Emily Gunther carries the weight of her memories in that deep pit she fills with occupation and avoidance, running and conversation; lover of underrated weeds and the thick feel of hot cocoa on the back of your throat, as if your body is creating it’s own connection to the clotted sweetness; long-departed big sister; a rowboat circling in the doldrums

Emily Gunther lost her sister in a school fire. Details: Emily was absent due to being sick, she can’t help that. Eliza died where her safety was assumed, no one can help that. Eleven years flash forward, Emily can’t sleep.

Mandy Ronan witnessed the assault on wholly vulnerable circumstances. In dealing with this tragedy and the distrust accompanying it, she writes. Mandy doesn’t refashion to forget. Mandy is writing beauty from gruesome events.

Emily and Mandy attempt to handle the gaping holes left by their pasts and present.

“You’re a shadow. You slip out of your own skin, like molting, shedding your own history and your own future, leaving behind everything you ever were or wanted or believed in.”


2 Responses to “”

  1. erinkgall said

    O’Brien, Tim. The Things They Carried. New York: Broadway Books, 1990.

  2. Brea Dearing said

    SO GOOD.

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