Mag ik u nog een tip geven. Het boek uit de titel van de hand van Reif Larsen, is een waar pareltje. Origineel, witty, ontroerend.

Een smaakmakertje of twee.

De hoofdpersoon, een heel slimme twaalfjarige jongen, die illustraties maakt voor onder andere Science, over zijn ouders. Hij noemt zijn moeder Dr. Clair, sat op zich vond ik eigenlijk al geweldig, meer zelfs ik kreeg er de slappe lach van. Coppertop is de naam van hun racnch in Montana.

The genesis and sustenance of their love got filed away with the rest of the unspoken subjects on the Coppertop, materializing only in tiny trinkets: the horseshoe ornament in the cab of the pickup, a single picture of my father as a young man standing next to a railroad crossing that Dr. Clair had pinned to the wall of her study; those quiet moments of contacts that I occasionally saw them have in hallways, where their hands briefly met, as though they were exchanging secret pile of seeds.

of nog, als T.S. Spivet (de twaalfjarige jongen) het heeft over de plastieken speelgoedjes die je krijgt bij een Happy Meal:

Before I slipped back into the night through the automatic doors, I quickly checked to see what toy had come with my Happy Meal. Inside a sealed plastic bag was a crappy, nonmovable pirate figurine. I unwrapped it and ran my thumb over the pirate’s face. There was a kind of comfort in the toy’s crappiness- particularly in how the Chinese machine that colored these figurines had painted the pirate’s pupils just off the bulge of where his ayes should have been, so that it seemed as if he was looking downward, with a mournful pensiveness that was decidedly unpiratelike.

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