black swan green

I just finished the David Mitchell book, Black Swan Green, and my mind is still humming with dreamy pleasure. He weaves the bittersweet realities of life as a thirteen-year-old boy with childhood wonder, capturing the character so well in his first-person narrative. Matt and I read a review of the book last year in the New Yorker and our interest was piqued. I haven't read a really great book of fiction in some time so this was refreshing. Here is a quote from the book where Jason is describing how his stammering problem began:

"Miss Throckmorton'd been playing Hangman on the blackboard one afternoon with sunlight streaming in. On the blackboard was NIGH_ING__E. Any duh-brain could work that out, so I put up my hand. Miss Throckmorton said, "Yes, Jason?" and that was when my life divided itself into Before Hangman and After Hangman. The word "nightingale" kaboomed in my skull but it just wouldn't come out. The n got out okay, but the harder I forced the rest, the tighter the noose got. I remember Lucy Sneads whispering to Angela Bullock, stifling giggles. I remember Robin South staring at this bizarre sight. I'd've done the same if it hadn't been me. When a stammerer stammers their eyeballs pop out, they go trembly-red like an evenly matched arm wrestler, and their mouth guppergupperguppers like a fish in a net. It must be quite a funny sight.

It wasn't funny for me though. Miss Throckmorton was waiting. Every kid in the classroom was waiting. Every crow and every spider in Black Swan Green was waiting. Every cloud, every car on every motorway, even Mrs. Thatcher in the House of Commons'd frozon, listening, watching, thinking, What's wrong with Jason Taylor?"