[1] "She is pretty. A gentle, fragile soul. Not the sort who would intentionally bring about the catastrophic unraveling that is only, this moment, beginning. In my multifold years of life, I have learned that most people get along as best they can. They don't intend to hurt anyone. It is merely a terrible by-product of surviving." (3)
[2] "Life is not unlike cinema. Each scene has its own music, and the music is created for the scene, woven to it in ways we do not understand. No matter how much we may love the melody of a bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance within the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around in something that doesn't suit the moment. I let go of the river's song and found the music of that big house. I found room for a new life, a new mother who cared for me, and a new father who patiently taught me not only how to play music, but how to trust. He was as good a man as ever I've known. Oh, it was never like the Arcadia, but it was a good life. We were loved and cherished and protected." (315)
[3] "I lose myself in the smell of woodsmoke and morning fog so thick it cloaks the opposite bank and turns the river into a sea. I run along the sandbars with my sisters, and hide in the grass, and wait for them to come find me. Their voices weave soft through the mist, so that I can't tell how close or far they are.
On the Arcadia, Queenie sings a song. I sit stone still in the grass and listen to my mama's voice.
When the blackbird in the spring,
On the willow tree,
Sat and rocked, I heard him sing,
Singing, Aura Lee,
Aura Lee, Aura Lee,
Maid with golden hair,
Sunshine came along with thee..." (181)
[4] "A woman's past need not predict her future. She can dance to new music if she chooses. Her own music. To hear the tune, she must only stop talking. To herself, I mean. We're always trying to persuade ourselves of things." (317)
[5] "For the hundreds who vanished and for the thousands who didn't.
May your stories not be forgotten.
For those who help today's orphans find forever homes.
May you always know the value
of your work
and your love." (1)
4.5/5. Lisa Wingate has bravely created an absolute masterpiece. Her writing is important. Her writing is poetic, and the past and present are weaved masterfully into this tapestry of heart-wrenching historical fiction. I couldn't put it down. What Georgia Tann did makes me physically ill, and is not for the faint of heart. I wept. The characters seemed so real they could have been breathing right off the page. For something so horrific that there really are no words, Lisa Wingate found a way to put it into just that. And somehow she left me feeling hopeful, that we can learn from our past and make sure not to allow history to repeat itself. For that I am so grateful.
Take note, the subject matter is for mature readers only.
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