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Katharine McGee Books

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American Royals

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Majesty

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“She couldn’t take it anymore—she flung herself into Atlas’s arms and kissed him, over and over, and this time Atlas returned the kisses, returned them wildly and passionately, and it made Avery’s heart break because she knew deep down that he was kissing her good-bye. She clung tighter to him, pressing her body the whole length of his, trying to hold him so close that he could never leave, as if she might anchor him here through sheer force of will. She wished she could snatch each kiss from the air and tuck it away somewhere safe, because each kiss was one kiss closer to the final kiss of all.”

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Book:The Dazzling Heights
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“And beneath her bare feet lay the biggest structure on earth, a whole world unto itself. How strange that there were millions of people below her at this very moment, eating, sleeping, dreaming, touching. Avery blinked, feeling suddenly and acutely alone. They were strangers, all of them, even the ones she knew. What did she care about them, or about herself, or about anything, really?”

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Book:The Thousandth Floor
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“Inside was a miniature incandescent, one of the genetically engineered flowers that attracted light the way magnets attract metal. Already it was drawing some of the light from the room toward it, taking on a sort of ghostly glow, though it generated none of the light itself. Incandescents were funny; they’d become much cheaper since they were first bred decades ago, because they only lasted a few hours before dying. But they were truly beautiful if you caught them in the one night they bloomed.”

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Book:The Thousandth Floor
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“Rylin’s arms fell to her sides as she turned slowly to face him. You can stop this, she reminded herself, but she didn’t, she couldn’t, or maybe she just didn’t want to. It seemed to Rylin that she was in a sort of trance, that time had halted and the whole world was holding its breath. Cord’s lips on hers felt like fire. Without another thought she was rising on tiptoe to kiss him back, clinging tight to his shoulders as the only solid thing in a dizzying world. She knew this was wrong, but everything else felt so far away, like something she’d imagined in another life. A splash sounded in the water behind them, as another pair of lovers tossed a key off the bridge and into the night.”

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Book:The Thousandth Floor
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“It was all the same, wasn’t it? The same women moving across the terraces in a familiar click of heels, the same men murmuring to one another in low tones about the same things they always discussed, their eyebrows drawn together in the same clichéd expression of concern. It all struck Avery as futile, and purposeless. Here they were, halfway around the world, and yet everyone was stuck in their little loops—engaging in the old tired flirtations, doomed to the same disappointments.”

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Book:The Dazzling Heights
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“Despite how progressive America claimed to be, there was still a sexist double standard quietly underpinning everything. She and Jeff were proof of it, like in those scientific studies where they treated twin babies the same except for one key variable, then tracked how it affected them. The variable here was that Jeff was a boy and Sam was a girl, and even when they did the exact same thing, people reacted to them differently. If the paparazzi caught Jeff on an expensive shopping spree, he was splurging for a special occasion, while Samantha was spoiled. If pictures surfaced of Jeff visibly drunk and stumbling out of a bar, he was blowing off some much-needed steam. Samantha was a wild party girl. If Jeff talked back to the paparazzi, he was simply being firm, protecting his privacy. Samantha was a ruthless bitch.”

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Book:American Royals
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“Verhalen vormen de enige echte magie. Een verhaal kan de onmogelijke afstand tussen individuen overbruggen, ons uit ons eigen leven tillen en in dat van iemand anders zetten, al is het maar voor even. Onze honger naar verhalen maakt ons tot mens. We verlangen in het bijzonder naar verhalen die ons blij maken. Verhalen slaan ergens op, terwijl dat voor de echte wereld niet geldt. Want verhalen zijn de opgeschoonde versie van het echte leven, een gedestilleerde versie van het menselijke gedrag die komischer, tragischer en perfecter is dan het echte leven. In een goed gemaakte holo zitten geen doodlopende verhaallijnen of willekeurige opnames. Als de camera op een detail inzoomt, moet je opletten, want dat detail heeft een cruciale betekenis, die nog duidelijk zal worden. Zo is het echte leven niet. In het echte leven leiden de aanwijzingen niet per definitie tot iets. Wegen lopen dood. Geliefden maken geen heroïsche romantische gebaren. Mensen zeggen lelijke dingen en vertrekken zonder afscheid te nemen en lijden op onzinnige manieren. Verhaallijnen worden zonder ontknoping losgelaten. Soms hebben we een verhaal nodig - één dat goed in elkaar steekt, opbeurend is - om de wereld te helpen weer ergens op te slaan. Er zijn geen gelukkige eindes in het echte leven, omdat er in het leven geen eindes zijn, alleen momenten van verandering. Er is altijd een nieuw avontuur, een nieuwe uitdaging, een nieuwe mogelijkheid om geluk te vinden of weg te jagen. Ik wil holografie studeren omdat het mijn droom is om verhalen te creëren. Ik hoop dat mijn holo's mensen op een dag inspireren om de wereld beter achter te laten dan ze hem aantroffen. Om in ware liefde te geloven. Om dapper genoeg te zijn om voor geluk te vechten.”

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Book:The Towering Sky
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