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448 pages, Paperback
First published April 3, 2012
…death is better because death is the end of fear, isn’t it? [p.431]
It’s not the monsters who are so completely different that are scary, Sanjit reflected. It’s the ones who are too human. They carry with them the warning that what happened to them might happen to you, too. [p.150]
‘Most of human history people huddled, scared in the dark. Living in little huts with their animals. Believing the woods around them were haunted by spirits. Wolves and werewolves. Terrors. People would hold onto each other. So that way they wouldn’t be so afraid.’ [p.170]
…they assumed all fear must come from a thing or a place. An event. Cause and effect. Like fear was part of an algebra equation.
No, no, no, so not getting the point of fear. Because fear wasn’t about what made sense. Because fear wasn’t about what made sense. Fear was about possibilities. Not things that happened. Things that might.
Things that might … Threats that might be there. Murderers. Madmen. Monsters. Standing just a few inches from him, able to see him, but his eyes useless. The threats, they could laugh silently at him. They could hold their knives, guns, claws right in his face and he wouldn’t be able to see.
The threat could be. Right. There. [p415-416]
‘Ah. Like that?’ Her silence was confirmation. ‘Lots of people, they go through bad times, they lose their faith. But they come back to it.’
‘I didn’t lose my faith, Edilio. I killed it. I held it up to the light and I stared right at it and for the first time I didn’t hide behind something I’d read somewhere, or something I’d heard. I didn’t worry about what anyone would think. I didn’t worry about what anyone would think. I didn’t worry about looking like a fool. I was all alone and I had no one to be right to. Except me. So I just looked. And when I looked …’ She made a gesture with her fingers, like things blowing away, scattering in the wind. ‘… There was nothing there.’
Edilio looked very sad.
‘Edilio,’ she said, ‘you have to believe what’s right for you, what you feel. But so do I. It’s hard for someone who has had to carry the nickname “Astrid the Genius” to admit she was wrong.’ She made a wry smile. ‘But I found out that I was … not happier, maybe; that’s not the right word … It’s not about happy. But … honest. Honest with myself.’
’So you think I’m lying to myself?’ Edilio asked softly.
Astrid shook her head. ’Never. But I was.’ [p.110]