Castelul de sticlă este o autobiografie unică și plină de imagini care te revoltă și te amuză în același timp. Autoarea ne povestește despre viața ei în sânul familiei sale non-conformiste și prețul pe care ea și frații săi au trebuit să îl plătească în urma unui stil de viață nomad și lipsit de reguli adoptat de părinții lor.
Nu vreau să vă mai dezvălui mai multe despre carte, deoarece vreau să vă ofer mai multe detalii într-o postare viitoare. Pentru moment, vreau să vă prezint în rândurile care urmează primele “100 de cuvinte” din această carte.
The Glass Castle
I was sitting in a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a Dumpster. It was just after dark.
A blustery March wind whipped the steam coming out of the manholes, and people hurried along the sidewalks with their collars turned up. I was stuck in traffic two blocks from the party where I was heading.
Mom stood fifteen feet away. She had tied rags around her shoulders to keep out the spring chill and was picking through the trash while her dog, a black-and-white terrier mix, played at her feet.
Mom’s gestures were all familiar – the way she tilted her head and thrust our her lower lip when studying items of potential value that she’d hoisted out of the Dumpster, the way her eyes widened with childish glee when she found something she liked.
Her long hair was streaked with gray, tangled and matted, and her eyes had sunk deep into their sockets, but still she reminded me of the mom she’d been when I was a kid, swandiving off cliffs and painting in the desert and reading Shakespeare aloud.