By Terry McMillan
Much-heralded and lengthy awaited, Terry McMillan's tour-de-force novel introduces the fee family-matriarch Viola, her sometimes-husband Cecil, and their 4 grownup little ones, each one of whom sees life-and one another-through thick and skinny, and completely all alone phrases. together with her hallmark exuberance and forged of characters so sassy, resilient, and whole of lifestyles that they breathe, dream, and shout correct off the web page, the writer of the exceptional best-sellers ready to Exhale and the way Stella bought Her Groove again has given us a unique that takes us ever-further into the hearts, minds, and souls of America-and supplies us six extra neighbors we by no means are looking to go away. • Abridged. 4 cassettes, 6 hours
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They had their own destiny in mind, which was okay, except when ain't no clear path in front of 'em you kinda wonder where they headed. I've watched 'em make all kinda mistakes over the years. Been scared for 'em. Worried myself gray. Frayed like a beggar. But I done finally learned that you can't carry the weight for everything that happen to your kids. For the longest time I have. But not no more. I'm letting go of the coulda- woulda-shouldas and admit that I was not the perfect mother, but I broke my neck trying to be a good one.
Been going to college off and 011 for the past fifteen years and still don't have no degree in nothing. Hell, she should be the professor by now. Every time I turn around she taking another class. One minute it's stained glass. The next it's drapes and valances. But I think she was tired of being creative and now she wanna be a professional. Did she tell me she switched over to real estate? Who knows? Maybe all them years of comparing one child to another messed her up. Treating her like a baby is probably why she still act like one.
But I didn't expect it to come in the form it came in: Cecil. I used to close my eyes, laying right between my sisters: Suzie Mae on one side and Priscilla on the other. I'd smell bread baking and see red wine being poured in my glass and pale-yellow cheese bejng sliced and I could see the mist through those lace curtains and feel the cobblestone beneath my spiked heels. I heard accordions. Saw small wooden boats in dark-green water. But by the time I married Cecil and got pregnant-or, I should say, by the time I got pregnant and married Cecil-I knew th e c hances of me ever getting on a airplane going anywhere was slim to zero, so I named my daughter after the place I'd probably never see.