“Isabel is a single, twentysomething thrift-store shopper and collector of remnants, things cast off or left behind by others. Glaciers follows Isabel through a day in her life in which work with damaged books in the basement of a library, unrequited love for the former soldier who fixes her computer, and dreams of the perfect vintage dress move over a backdrop of deteriorating urban architecture and the imminent loss of the glaciers she knew as a young girl in Alaska.
Glaciers unfolds internally, the action shaped by Isabel’s sense of history, memory, and place. For Isabel, the fleeting moments of one day can reveal an entire life. While she contemplates loss and the intricate fissures it creates in our lives, she accumulates the stories—the remnants—of those around her and she begins to tell her own story.”
I don’t feel particularly qualified to discuss this book. I’m certain there are layers of meaning that I left untouched; that there were connections to be made and I left the pieces on an outskirt, separated by miles. Perhaps it would be best, then, to not wade in at all. To add Glaciers to my list of books read and move on. If not for all of the creased corners, each dog-ear marking a page that dug through my admittedly shallow reading and curled up in my mind or heart, purring, I might have considered doing that. But I didn’t want to keep these words to myself, so I thought, why not do a post of favorite passages? If one slips its finger along your spine, you might want to try this slim novel of loss and longing and finding yourself in between.
Apologies, as always, for the blur. Cell phone and one hand trying in vain to hold the book fully open equal blurry around the edges.
In the picture below, all of the left page and above the page break on the right (click on picture to enlarge):