Many kids, it seemed, would find out that their parents were flawed, messed-up people later in life, and I didn’t appreciate getting to know it all so strong and early.
AIMEE BENDERIt’s a pleasure to dive into Hirshberg’s storytelling skills in American Morons.
More Aimee Bender Quotes
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We’re all getting too smart. Our brains are just getting bigger and bigger, and the world dries up and dies when there’s too much thought and not enough heart.
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I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
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It was a fleeting statement, one I didn’t think she’d hold on to; after all, she had birthed us alone, diapered and fed us, helped us with homework, kissed and hugged us, poured her love into us.
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It was like we were exchanging codes, on how to be a father and a daughter, like we’d read about it in a manual, translated from another language, and were doing our best with what we could understand.
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Listen. Look. Desire is a house. Desire needs closed space. Desire runs out of doors or windows, or slats or pinpricks, it can’t fit under the sky, too large. Close the doors. Close the windows.
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We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.
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I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
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I peeled the skin off a grape in slippery little triangles, and I understood then that I would be undressing every item of food I could because my clothes would be staying on.
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But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
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Glen Hirshberg’s stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content.
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I have had with novel writing, and I have put to bed big chunks of work that just didn’t sustain my interest.
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Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
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Pouring over me, but it was a different kind, siphoned from a different, and tamer, body of water. I was her darling daughter; Joseph was her it.
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I admired that stride; it was like he folded space in two with it.
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Large meadows are lovely for picnics and romping, but they are for the lighter feelings. Meadows do not make me want to write.
AIMEE BENDER






