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Anne Østby Books

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“They had read a fantastic book, a doorstop novel from India with colors and spices and music and poetry spilling out into the margins, a seven-course literary feast. After reading a brief biographical note about the author, they always went around the table. When it was Maya's turn, she was ready with yellow Post-its stuck in between the pages that held the paragraphs she wanted to read aloud. "I thought this book was like a tapestry," she'd begun, hearing her own voice sounding excited but focused. "Poetic and romantic descriptions of nature and art combined with a social message that's both brutal and- provocative”

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Book:Pieces of Happiness
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“It's like fårikål." Maya's tone is matter-of-fact recalling the traditional pungent dish of boiled cabbage and mutton with bone, seasoned with whole black peppercorns. "There's nothing better when you only get it once in a while. Seasonally. But if it were on your plate every day, you'd eventually start to lose your appetite for mutton. Sometimes the smell is enough. Or just the thought of it fills you up." Lisbeth is not the only one grinning now, she knows Kat and Sina are picturing the same thing she is: a naked Steinar with twisted ram's horns covering his ears. His pointy nose quivering, sniffing boiled cabbage and peppercorns.”

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“Make sure you wear it on the left side. That means you're single and ready for new adventures. 'Left is for looking, right is for cooking.'" Lisbeth giggles, almost blushes, and lifts her hand to her head reflexively. She's seen women on the street with flowers behind their ears, along the road, in stores, on their way home from the fields carrying baskets of cassava, the yellowish white root that's used in every meal. She's seen the red hibiscus, the bulging ginger blossom, the bewitchingly aromatic frangipani behind the ears of men too, but she wasn't aware of this secret code for courting.”

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“Did you take part in the chocolate production directly?" she asks, without quite knowing why. Maybe because she can't imagine his bulky fists tinkering with soft caramel and finely ground licorice powder. "Oh, yes. Every step in the process. White chocolate, milk chocolate, dark chocolate." A much younger man smiles through the wrinkles surrounding his brown eyes. "There isn't a sweet temptation that doesn't lure me in." Ingrid has to smile back, feels the optimism like a gust breezing through her. No, like a taste on her tongue! Wildrid can feel the saliva pooling behind her teeth: soft mint spreading out on the back of her tongue, salty caramel sticking to her molars. Chili chocolate burning the inside of her cheeks, rum cream with ginger melting down her throat. "Pineapple truffle!" she says. "Mango nougat! Marzipan-covered kiwi!" Johnny looks at her and chuckles. "I thought you said you wanted to start slowly and carefully?" The others grow quiet and Ingrid stops, embarrassed by her outburst. An erotic poem wrapped in cellophane.”

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Book:Pieces of Happiness
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“The North Star is the brightest star in that constellation. Stella Polaris in Latin. But did you know it was also called Stella Maris in the Middle Ages? Star of the Sea? That's actually one of the names they used to call the Virgin Mary." Lisbeth looked at her with interest. "Really? That's exactly what she said. That little girl. She said her name was Star of the Sea." Maya nodded. "Yes, exactly. 'Our lady, star of the sea' was one of the Holy Virgin's names.”

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“She painted this one for me. We were playing ocean. Can't you see what it is?" Two dark oval shapes in the middle of the page; hard, glittering shells. Two turtles stretching their heads toward the shore. The translucent sea above the flickering seabed. Brownish black mangrove trees against warm sand. The figures on the beach are tiny, with long, flowing hair. The song floats away from them, out over the ocean; in gold and lurid pink it strikes the dark shapes of the creatures in an extravagance of light. "Those are the princesses," I say. Maraia nods. "The big song is taking them up into the light.”

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Book:Pieces of Happiness
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“The chocolate mass is perfectly silky and stays at the right temperature; it slides, soft and supple, into the molds. Smooth, shiny bars of chocolate, eight millimeters thick; they glisten up at us, dark and inviting: Bite us, taste us, swallow us! Let us melt in your mouth! The promise-laden snap when I break off a piece of happiness is like music, Chocolate Symphony No. 1. I let it rest on my tongue and wait as long as I can to swallow. The taste of the gods in the brownish purple beans fills my mouth until it flows over and spills down my throat.”

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“Piper methysticum, the intoxicating pepper, is hammered into submission before it is mixed into the brew that's guzzled, seeps into the blood, and becomes part of the stories and songs at the tip of everyone's tongue. The bitter brown drink that bears holy truths and keeps honorable myths alive. The thud of the pestle in the kava mortar is the echo of the waves, Ingrid thinks. The rhythm of the dance underneath it all.”

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“Just before she passes the harbor the sun begins to swoop down the sky, piercing holes in the clouds and forming columns of light. "Our Lord's fingers"- she suddenly recalls her mother's name for the slender rays that pierced through gray skies and reinvigorated the earth after soggy afternoons of rain. The columns melt as they reach the water, dissolving into a quivering glitter. It grows dark around her as the light is sucked into the sea; patches of pink and orange dance a few last, passionate steps across the sky. Maya remains standing as the dance keeps twirling inside her. How lovely just to stand here and let herself be overwhelmed, to let the lyrics fade and surrender to the melody.”

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Book:Pieces of Happiness
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