In this sense, Tiny Beautiful Things can be read as a kind of ad hoc memoir. But it’s a memoir with an agenda. With great patience, and eloquence, she assures her readers that within the chaos of our shame and disappointment and rage there is meaning, and within that meaning the possibility of rescue.
— Steve Almond from the Introduction to Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed
Our kitchen was a Coleman camp stove, a fire ring, an old-fashioned icebox Eddie built that depended on actual ice to keep things even mildly cool, a detached sink propped against an outside wall of the shack, and a bucket of water with a lid on it. Each component demanded just slightly less than it gave, needing to be tended and maintained, filled and unfilled, hauled and dumped, pumped and primed and stoked and monitored.
Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed
“I just don’t understand what you see in her,” Sim said carefully. “I know she’s charming. Fascinating and all that. But she seems rather,” he hesitated, “cruel.”
The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss
Alone had always felt like an actual place to me, as if it weren’t a state of being, but rather a room where I could retreat to be who I really was.
Wild by Cheryl Strayed
Bewildered Creatures 