by
Donna Tartt
meh/style
Sarah Rose Etter,
Lydia Kiesling,
Ellen Pao,
Claire Stanford,
Gabriela Garcia,
Adelle Waldman,
Natasha Brown,
Sam Byers,
Yaa Gyasi,
Jennifer Egan
“Right,” I said politely, going into the kitchen and pouring myself a huge vodka. [...]
this is in response to an annoying guy talking about his kid ... i feel like the punchline could be a little more subtle. like instead of a huge vodka, something a little more comical and deadpan. refilled my water glass with straight vodka or something. dont put the 'huge' part in front of the punchline etc
That weekend, Jamie and I went camping. He had been in the office all month—no fieldwork—and said he wanted to get outdoors. I wasn’t sure that car camping counted, but it was the best we could do, so we drove to a campground, set up our tent on a pre-groomed square of dirt, built a fire in the premade fire pit, and grilled some steaks that we had purchased at the grocery store down the road—steaks that were decidedly not local or organic or grass-fed but came in a Styrofoam tray, bloody and absurdly cheap, the product of farm subsidies that we paid for with our tax dollars because farmland fit our vision of America as a place of plenty.
what????
I heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway, down the stairs. I lifted the next item out of the box, a gray wool skirt suit. The fabric felt soft and luxe, a subtle pinstripe running top to bottom. But when I held up the matching jacket, I could tell that something about it was no longer right, theshoulders too big, the lapels too wide. This had probably been my mother’s nicest suit, the one she wore to court when she argued a big case. I held the jacket and I pictured her standing in front of judge and jury. She had been so full of life, so full of joy. How was it possible that I still had this jacket, and yet I didn’t have her?
this just feels so cliched im sorry
We entered a vast windowless space, seemingly a ballroom, though who would want to host a ball in this windowless space was a mystery. The room was filled with hundreds of booths, each with a table and a sign, a salesperson or two shilling product that was at least tangentially related to happiness. A guard at the door checked our badges; only conference attendees were allowed in.
so blah. the last sentence especially feels clunky
“I wish I could, but I have to get to class. I’ve done maybe half the reading. The only thing I have going for me is my punctuality and attendance.”
“I doubt that,” Sam said. Sadie was one of the most brilliant people he knew.
christ