“Riddled his body with bullets”—my da talked like that. Mam was always shushing him, but he waved her off. “It’s important they… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“Something inexorable seeds itself in the place of your origin. You can never escape the bonds of family history, no matter how… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“A store-bought trinket with no history, no story. I knew, deep down, when he gave it to me that he didn't understand… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“You can never escape the bonds of family history, no matter how far you travel. And the skeleton of a house can… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“Over the years, certain stories in the history of a family take hold. They're passed from generation to generation, gaining substance and… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“In American History they’ve been studying how the United States was founded on indentured servitude. The teacher, Mr. Reed, said that in… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“Mr. Grote shows me how he grows wild rice in the stream and collects the seeds. The rice is nutty and brown. He plants… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“I try to forget the horror of what happened. Or—perhaps forget is the wrong word. How can I forget? And yet how can I… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“don’t know how much of my memory of this time is affected by my age now and how much is a result of the… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“The stark gray sky and bare tree limbs feel more suited to her than the uncomplicated promise of sunny spring days.” — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“Sometimes these spirits have been more real to me than people, more real than God. They fill silence with their weight, dense and warm,… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“Every Easter she and her mother planted those crocuses near the fence beside the driveway, and soon enough a whole cluster of them, white… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“Mr. Kaminski pulled a chain hanging from the pressed-metal kitchen ceiling, and light seeped from a bulb, casting a wan glow over a scarred… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“Before we leave the gravesite, Mary sings Mother's favorite gospel hymn ... Mary's lovely voice rises and lingers in the air, and by the… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“for the first time since the fire, my worries are gone. I feel a joy so strong it’s almost painful—a knife’s edge of joy.” — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“What was it the teacher in her Legal Issues class said the other day? Never bring up a point you don’t have an answer… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
“Mrs. Scatcherd raps Dutchy's knuckles several times with a long wooden ruler, though it seems to me a halfhearted penalty. He barely winces, then… — Christina Baker Kline Copy Share Image
