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Kim Edwards

Kim Edwards Books

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“Rows and rows of books lined the shelves and I let my eyes linger on the sturdy spines, thinking how human books were, so full of ideas and images, worlds imagined, worlds perceived; full of fingerprints and sudden laughter and the sighs of readers, too. It was humbling to consider all these authors, struggling with this word or that phrase, recording their thoughts for people they'd never meet. In that same way, the detritus of the boxes was humbling - receipts, jotted notes, photos with no inscriptions, all of it once held together by the fabric of lives now finished, gone.”

ImaginationBooksAuthors
Book:The Lake of Dreams
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“Some dreams matter, illuminate a crucial choice or reveal some intuition that's trying to push its way to the surface. Other, though, are detritus, the residue of the day reassembling itself in some disjointed and chaotic way ... Frantic dreams, they left me tired, and I woke grouchy to another rainy day, the sky so densely gray and the rain so thick that I couldn't that I couldn't see the opposite shore [p, 166]”

Dreams
Book:The Lake of Dreams
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“Though Lexington is not a small town, it sometimes feels like one, with circles of acquaintance overlapping once, then again; the person you meet by chance at the library or the pool may turn out to be the best friend of your down-the-street neighbor. Maybe thats why people are so friendly here, so willing to be unhurried.”

PeopleFeelsMayPersonsSometimesTurnsChanceStreetsWillingTownsLibraryNeighborCirclesBeing The BestFriendlyPoolSmall TownAcquaintanceOverlappingLexington
Author:Kim Edwards
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“He carried Paul inside and up the stairs. He gave him a drink of water and the orange chewable aspirin he like and sat with him on the bed, holding his hand...This was what he yearned to capture on film: these rare moments where the world seemed unified, coherent, everything contained in a single fleeting image. A spareness that held beauty and hope and motion - a kind of silvery poetry, just as the body was poetry in blood and flesh and bone.”

WorldKindMomentsBodyHandsFilmFatherWaterBloodDrinkBedBonesFleshSatCaptureOrangeFleetingStairsUnifiedAspirinRare Moments
Author:Kim Edwards
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“Norah looked at her son’s tiny face, surprised, as always, by his name. he had not grown into it yet, he still wore it like a wrist band, something that might easily slip off and disappear. She had read about people – where? she could not remember this either – who refused to name their children for several weeks, feeling them to be not yet of the earth, suspended still between two worlds.”

PeopleWorldChildrenStillsTwoFeelingsMightEarthRememberFacesFatherNamesWeekSonBandDisappearTinySlipsWristsSuspendedTwo Worlds
Author:Kim Edwards
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“Her voice, high and clear, moved through the leaves, through the sunlight. It splashed onto the gravel, the grass. He imagined the notes falling into the air like stones into water, rippling the invisible surface of the world. Waves of sound, waves of light: his father had tried to pin everything down, but the world was fluid and could not be contained.”

WorldLightFallFatherSoundVoiceWaterClearAirStonesMovedNotesWaveSurfaceInvisibleGrassSunlightPinsFluidGravelSound Waves
Book:The Memory Keeper's Daughter: A Novel
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