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Sto caricando le informazioni... Kataniadi Lara Vapnyar
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This story captured me early on, when the seven-year-old narrator admires the fit a classmate has thrown about being offered the wrong teacup:
"Don't you just hate it when you have to drink your tea from the wrong cup?" she said.
I nodded respectfully, as if I were very familiar with the difficulty of this situation. But what I admired was her courage. I would never have had the guts to throw a tantrum. And my mother would never have taken it so calmly. Just a few days before, she had kicked me in the ribs simply for crawling around on the floor and meowing while she was on the phone. I didn't blame her. I had tried to meow into the receiver, even though I knew that she was talking to her boss.
* * * * *
I'm still making up my mind about the ending. Is it pat? Or inevitable? But I'm so captured by this telling of a formative childhood friendship that I shouldn't quibble about details. If you read it, I'd love to know what you think. ( )