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Carol's Reviews > Jim the Boy
Jim the Boy
by
by
Leslie wrote this review @ it represents my thoughts so well.
Maybe it's because I'm finishing this book late at night in my quiet house, but it really has touched me, especially the last 5 pages or so. A really simply, yet powerfully told story of a young boy, Jim, whose life is small but whose challenges are startlingly big. Earley's style is lovely, I found beauty on every page. Would love to read more of his work.
This passage is from page 8.
"'There he is,' Mama said. 'The birthday boy.'
Jim's heart rose up briefly, like a scrap of paper on a breath of wind, and then quickly settled back to the ground. His love for his mother was tethered by a sympathy Jim felt knotted in the dark of his stomach. The death of Jim's father had broken something inside her that had not healed. She pulled the heaviness that had once been grief behind her like a plow. The uncles, the women of the church, the people of the town, had long since given up on trying to talk her into leaving the plow where it lay. Instead they grew used to stepping over, or walking inside, the deep furrows she left in her wake. Jim knew only that his mother was sad, and that he figured somehow in her sadness. When she leaned over to kiss him, the lilaced smell of her cheek was as sweet and sad at once as the smell of freshly turned earth in the churchyard."
Maybe it's because I'm finishing this book late at night in my quiet house, but it really has touched me, especially the last 5 pages or so. A really simply, yet powerfully told story of a young boy, Jim, whose life is small but whose challenges are startlingly big. Earley's style is lovely, I found beauty on every page. Would love to read more of his work.
This passage is from page 8.
"'There he is,' Mama said. 'The birthday boy.'
Jim's heart rose up briefly, like a scrap of paper on a breath of wind, and then quickly settled back to the ground. His love for his mother was tethered by a sympathy Jim felt knotted in the dark of his stomach. The death of Jim's father had broken something inside her that had not healed. She pulled the heaviness that had once been grief behind her like a plow. The uncles, the women of the church, the people of the town, had long since given up on trying to talk her into leaving the plow where it lay. Instead they grew used to stepping over, or walking inside, the deep furrows she left in her wake. Jim knew only that his mother was sad, and that he figured somehow in her sadness. When she leaned over to kiss him, the lilaced smell of her cheek was as sweet and sad at once as the smell of freshly turned earth in the churchyard."
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Reading Progress
Finished Reading
July 29, 2013
– Shelved
