I swallowed this book whole in one bite. Sad, airy in a way that contradicts its sorrow. This passage at the end of page 132 (only a handful of chapters make it to the verso) struck me:
“And so there are a few things left to her:
To stop lying.
To (open her eyes and) remove the veil.
To light a candle for all the deaths and spirits she can’t remember—including her own.

Very brief, very short pages, some worthwhile insights, IMHO. It is largely about the distortions experienced by a woman who moved to a different country that was different even in climate than that to which she was accustomed, with a recurring theme of the death of an infant who would have been her older sister. This theme illustrates the profound effect this death had on her family, her upbringing and her inner experience throughout her life. ( )

Thoughtful and meditative and migraine-experiential. ( )

Once I started reading this I could not put it down. Really, I was crying in the school pick-up line waiting on my son, and quickly rearranged my dinner plans so that I could go home and sit down and read the rest. The subject resonated with me, as both my husband and my youngest son were babies the would not have been born had not older siblings died at birth or miscarried. Haunting and poetic. ( )

White is the color of death and the thread of a dying child winds all through this contemplation? study? meditation? on the color white and the associations related to white things. Is stream of consciousness still a thing? I understand The White Book is considered flash fiction. From the white of a rice cake, to a babies face, to the color of the blossoms of a shrub planted to honor the dead, the emotional meaning of those things and events is pondered. This is best read in small snippets because it's a lot to take in and ruminate upon. Wonderfully thoughtful. ( )