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Quote by Susan Wiggs

“Let's get lunch at Aunt Carrie's." She looked away, trying to hide her vivid memories of the outdoor café. She and Alex had gone there as kids, sunburnt, their hair stiff with salt and their bare feet, to eat clam cakes and blueberry pie.”

Quote by Susan Wiggs

Work

Summer by the Sea

This book is a poignant tale that unfolds against the backdrop of a picturesque seaside town. It delves into the complexities of human emotions, as characters navigate through the joys and sorrows of life's journey. The narrative weaves a tapestry of personal growth and the enduring power of relationships. more

Author

Susan Wiggs
Susan Wiggs

Susan Wiggs is an American author born on May 17, 1958. Her works primarily focus on family, love, and community life, and she is beloved by readers for her warm emotional descriptions and profound character portrayals. more

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“Rachael Ray was in the middle of making small lemon bars, which reminded me almost immediately of a new recipe for lemon drop cookies I'd been wanting to try and maybe serve at an upcoming children's birthday party I had scheduled. Like I say, cooking can be like therapy for me when I'm real upset, and no sooner had I grabbed a bag of lemon drop candy in the cabinet, wrapped the nuggets in a towel, and begun beating them to bits with a hammer than I calmed down and concentrated on making the batter just right. Butter, sugar, grated lemon rind, heavy cream, an egg, flour baking powder and salt, the crushed candy- the ingredients couldn't have been simpler. What I wondered about was whether the candy would melt during the baking, and I got my answer after the cookies had been in the oven about twelve minutes, and I finally bit into a cooled one, and noticed a slight crunch that was one of the most wonderful sensations I'd ever experienced. Yeah, the cookies were out of this world, and I knew the kids would love 'em, but since I personally like most of my cookies to be kinda chewy, I did decide then and there that the next time I baked a batch, I'd test the texture after only ten minutes of baking- or till just the edges of the cookies browned. I also decided these cookies could give Miss Rachael Ray's lemon bars a good run for their money, and that they should have me on that program doing something a little different. I mean, anybody can make ordinary lemon bars.”

“In my hand sat three dime-store lemon drops---the bright yellow candy shaped like lemons and sanded on the outside with sugar. The kind of candy grandmas kept in jars for years because no one ever eats them. "Oh...thank you." I glanced up at her, trying to hide my surprise. What a strange gift. "They're not what you think." Aunt Gert sat down in the opposite chair. She met my eyes, her own gaze intent. "These are special. They can show you the life you could have had. They can show you your true path.”

“It tasted different from the candies of my youth, not the standard fake lemon flavor but a brighter, more... puckery flavor. Like real lemonade. It reminded me of my mom, of how her hands always smelled. Perhaps these drops really did contain a little bit of kitchen magic. This thought made me smile. I popped the candy in my mouth and got back into bed, then lay there staring up at the ceiling of my tiny dormer room, sucking on the hard ball, waiting for it to dissolve so I could go to sleep. It was the best lemon drop I'd ever had, the flavor just straddling sour and sweet. It tasted of bright July afternoons, of lemonade stands and paper cups and crunching ice cubes, of wading in the frigid water of Puget Sound, of laughter and a fizzle of joy in my chest for no reason at all.”

“On the plate was a tall, glistening slice of lemon meringue pie, vivid yellow and fluffy white. He pulled up a chair opposite me and straddled it backward, eagerly digging his fork into the tremulous tower of meringue. "You know I dream about this slice of pie all week long, right?" he said, taking a big bite. "And me. You also dream about me," I teased him. He raised an eyebrow. "Of course I dream about you... giving me this pie." I rolled my eyes at him, and he grinned, mouth full of pie. Every Saturday I made two lemon meringue pies and served them to the first lucky handful of customers through the doors of our flagship Tampa location. The last piece of pie I always saved for Rory. I'd modified my mom's now-not-so-secret recipe, adding an element all my own---a lemon drop melted into the lemon-sugar mixture. I wasn't convinced it changed the taste that much, but Rory said it was the best pie he'd ever had. He swore the lemon drop added a touch of kitchen magic, but I knew better. It wasn't magic at all. It was revelation.”

“By [patriarchy] I mean to imply not simply the tracing of descent through the father, (...) but any kind of group organization in which males hold dominant power and determine what part females shall and shall not play, and in which capabilities assigned to women are relegated generally to the mystical and aesthetic and excluded from the practical and political realms. (...) At the core of patriarchy is the individual family unit with its division of roles, its values of (...) unpaid domestic services of the wife, obedience to authority, judgment and punishment for disobedience, Within this family children learn the characters, sexual and otherwise, that they are to assume, in their turn, as adults. (...) The sacreness of the family in the patriarchy -sacred in the sense that it is heresy to question its ultimate value- relieves the titular head of it from any real necessity to justify his behavior.”

“Seeing your past - or a person from your - can for me at least be physically painful. I'm overwhelmed by a melancholic ache - and I want the past back, not matter the cost. It doesn't matter that it won't come back; that it never even actually existed as I remember it - I want it back. I want things to be like they were, or like I remember them having been: Whole. But she doesn't remind me of the past, for some reason, she feels present tense”