The title is ‘A Girl is a half formed thing’
Let me give you a random sample of her writing from page 49.
“And was there much blood? Yeah loads of that. And hospital and people passing out? Oh loads, and did they think you’d die? they did. Somehow I didn’t, you say. They never knew anyone nearly dead before grannies and grandfathers. Did they go to court? They got away. With It? From the country, thickorwhat, you say. Oh right. Oh right yeah.
I smelt it go around the school all day. In crannies in whispers in home economics behind me, before me, to right and to the left. Hey dimwit shitfit what happened your brother? What happened his head? Is that true? You so full of shite. It did not. It did not. Sweat me down my polyester pinafore. Don’t want to get into it. Don’t want to say Aye Yes nor no if I can help it. But I don’t want to burst your lie.
Bus home you were not tripped up. And no one said thicko duck-up shitehawk. And you did sit at the back of the bus. I went over and over each bump in my stomach. The luck of it. Bad luck of it to tell that lie. Of all. About that. That thick meander line below your hair.”
I don’t know what to make of it. I’ll will read the book. Her brain seems to be embedded in her key-board. The author is Eimear McBride.
Here is a bit by G.Oosterman out of “Almost There.”
“Even so we needed friends and invited them for an afternoon. He ate all of our peanuts. He must have been so hungry. His hand kept throwing those nuts back into his tilted upward mouth. It is strange how those memories keep sticking. I mean we did not mind the peanut frenzy, but were just somewhat surprised. Heaven knows what others make of us? “Gerard is really weird and strange,” they could well whisper behind closed doors!
Another couple we tried to befriend was a printmaker. I knocked on his door. He just poked his red face through a window and asked what I wanted. I explained we were from Australia seeking friendship. “I am an artists too,” I said bravely while nodding affirmatively and somewhat conspiratorially. “Oh, he said without hesitation, I am having a fight with my wife”, “I can’t see you.” He slammed the window shut. Marital fights in Holland are just as prevalent as anywhere. Just because they ride bikes, eat herrings and live abstemious lives, doesn’t mean they don’t suffer marital whiplash at times. It is universal.
We did keep a few couples as friends including the potter couple of stone-ware. He worked as a part time teacher and informed me the school for adult education was looking for a teacher in the creative arts especially painting and drawing. I got the job. This was the other good news I was alluding to at the beginning of this piece. But that wasn’t the end of happy and happier! I won a commission to make a mural for a yet to be built school in the small town where my daughters attended school. This town is named Westerbork.