A Spool of Blue Thread: A Novel by Anne Tyler:
“I guess Merrick must be feeling kind of tense these days,” Abby said after a moment.
“Oh, no, that’s just how she is,” Mrs. Whitshank said cheerfully. She had finished slicing the okra. She stirred the slices around in the milk, using a slotted spoon. “She was a snippy little girl and now she’s a snippy big girl,” she said. “Nothing much I can do about it.” She began transferring the okra slices to the cornmeal mixture. “Sometimes,” she said, “it seems to me there’s just these certain types of people that come around and around in our lives, know what I mean? Easy types and hard types; we run into them over and over. Merrick’s always put me in mind of my granny Inman. Disapproving kind of woman; tongue like a rasp. She never did think much of me. You, now, you’re a sympathizer, same as my aunt Louise.”
“Oh,” Abby said. “Yes, I see what you’re saying. It’s kind of like reincarnation.”
Mrs. Whitshank said, “Well …”
Post a Comment