Revolution Sunday
Wendy Guerra, Translated by Achy Obejas
"My father wasn’t executed. You’ve been given erroneous information. My father died in a car accident two summers ago."
"My father wasn’t executed. You’ve been given erroneous information. My father died in a car accident two summers ago."
"When it all happened, I was no longer a young girl, but I still had the romanticism and sense of adventure of the debutante whose bright, pre-ordained future had been hijacked by the war...."
"Those desperate words, that fearful hand, the bloody sawdust clinging to the rough nap of such cheap paper—all troubled me."
"Worm slept soundly that night, but he woke early in the morning thinking again of the lady he’d seen yesterday in the street. She had been frightened when she went with the two men."
"He felt a new respect for gravediggers who had to do this every working day. When all of this was over, you wouldn’t catch him doing that for a living."
"Who'd want me for a flatmate?"
"Each year, a little more deterioration—a sign gone, a door off its hinges, a windowpane shattered—until finally the wreckers appeared, and now we might never have existed at all."
"It’s not every day that you walk into your apartment and find that your cat has turned into a dog."
"Her daughter’s voice grates on her eardrums. Isabelle rubs her eyes. Tries to erase the incomprehensible sight. But it is still there, just like her daughter’s monotonous whine."
"He still had doubts about returning to work. How much of a cop could he be? He had been assured the arm would make ‘absolutely no difference to anyone or any aspect of the job’. Really?"
CrimeReads needs your help. The mystery world is vast, and we need your support to cover it the way it deserves. With your contribution, you'll gain access to exclusive newsletters, editors' recommendations, early book giveaways, and our new "Well, Here's to Crime" tote bag.