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White Oleander

Oh my, haven't read anything that affected me this much and on so many different levels in a very, very long time... Go to your library -- get this book. I'd planned to see the movie, but won't now because it's bound to spoil the spell Janet Fitch cast. Right now, there just aren't actors good enough to play the women in this book properly...

She weaves words in a way I can only dream of, and her use of language is only a small part of what I love in this book.


Others are luckier. They dream of men with gentle hands, eloquent with tenderness, fingers that brushed along a cheek, that outlined open lips in the lovers' braille. Hands that sculpted sweetness from sullen flesh, that traced breast and ignited hips, opening, kneading. Flesh becomes bread in the heat of those hands, braided and rising

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