Now that you've read the interview with Wilson and my rave review, I decided that today I would share with you a few quotes from the fantastical book above... Each displays a certain aspect of the book and of Wilson's writing that I loved.
The original architect of the Archer Motel had blueprinted a full dining room and an enormous kitchen capable of producing three spectacular roadside buffets per day. Where the architect had dreamed his kitchen, the builders had put a broom closet. Where they had drawn his expansive dining room, they had put a small square with green carpet and fake wood paneling. There was enough space for one round table, one giggling refrigerator, and one pink Formica counter bolted into the wall. The counter held a chrome four-slot toaster and an oversize waffle iron built like an antique printing press.
- Chapter 1, page 12
He was wearing a tight white tank top tucked into a pair of army-green, much-too-large, much-too-pocketed fatigues, cinched around his waist with a rope. His paper-pale arms were knotted with muscle and tied with blue popping veins. His short hair was the color of dust and unevenly cropped around his skull. His face was smooth and young and unsunned, but somehow it didn't match his eyes.
Cyrus stared into the boy's eyes, and the boy's eyes stared into his. What Cyrus saw, he didn't know. What he felt was layer upon layer of ancient. The boy's faint green irises looked like they had been beaten and polished more than the smoothest river rock, like they could see by nothing more than starlight - and they no longer cared to see at all.
- Chapter 8, page 166
Bantering between siblings:
Antigone looked away. "Those girls with the guns were even younger than you. Like that's safe."
Cyrus grinned. "Dad gave me a BB fun when I was six."
"And then took it away when you shot yourself in the forehead."
"Nope. Wrong. Try again. He took it away when I tried to shoot the neighbor's cat."
"And that's better?"
"And," Cyrus said, "he gave it back one month later. I didn't lose it until I fell off the cliff when I was nine."
- Chapter 8, page 156
Action and danger galore:
Maximilien laughed. The scar around his pale neck flushed red. "No," he said. "No. You cannot. The keys, Smith boy. Give them to me. Now. Before you die."
Cyrus felt a shadow move above him, and the window exploded with a roar.
Maxi staggered backward and fell. Glass rained down on Cyrus's face and neck and chest, bouncing like crystal hail on the table. Above him, Cyrus saw a long gun barrel fire again and again, spitting wide flame, but he heard nothing.
And then Horace dove over him and out the window. Antigone pulled him up and drove him out the gaping window hold. His knee caught the sill, singing with pain, and the two of them were falling together, tumbling onto an old bicycle, through tall grass, and onto gravel.
- Chapter 6, page 108
If that's not enough to do you in, then I don't know what is... Want to win this book? I've got three copies (2 US, 1 INT) just waiting to be won!!