“Returning to bed, Rachel strokes Zachariah's black curls as he drifts into sleep and appreciates the shape and fractal geometry there, the self-similarity and infinity of scale. She breathes in at his scalp, then presses her ear to his, listening… — Emma Richler Copy Share
“Rachel thinks, What long fingers Mama has, like wands in fairy tales. All the better to conduct with my dear! Ekaterina Wolff has conduits for fingers. Rachel muses on the conducting of music and the conducting of electricity, and of… — Emma Richler Copy Share Image
“Away from Lev, she craves his need for her. When with him, it enervates. Why is that? She cannot help it. Nothing to be done. Only with her sister is she unfettered. Tasha never makes her think about it, the terrible stature of love. Its shape, size, weight, the long shadows it casts. With Tasha she never goes cold as… — Emma Richler Copy Share
“I know so little, she tells herself again, searching her mother's face. In the end, we know so little. ” — Emma Richler Copy Share Image
“Returning to bed, Rachel strokes Zachariah's black curls as he drifts into sleep and appreciates the shape and fractal geometry there, the self-similarity and infinity of scale. She breathes in at his scalp, then presses her ear to his, listening for the clamour of voices within, to the long line of fighting men who made him, his head a seashell.… — Emma Richler Copy Share
“Who is this grave and pretty young woman? Not pretty. Beautiful. Yes, I think so. Who is she? I know so little. In the… — Emma Richler Copy Share Image
“ The Life of Samuel Alexander, His Strange Surprizing Adventures , starts out like a song.” — Emma Richler Copy Share Image
“Rachel watches Zachariah and often, quite regularly, her heart skips a beat. If you map the ECG of the heart in phase space, its strange attractor resembles a spider. When Lev tutors Rachel in the principles of complexity, he has a dream of determinism, immanence. Through chaos, he shapes her. Through it he owns her. . . . When he… — Emma Richler Copy Share
“Katya, for Lev, is a vortex, by turn alluring and animal, icy and disaffected, often in one same day. Katya is symmetry-breaking.” — Emma Richler Copy Share Image
“And as he recalls the old soldier's wisdom regarding bullets and fate, how pointless evasion is when each shot has a man's name on… — Emma Richler Copy Share Image
