“By nightfall, one corner of the living room was jammed with items Ruth had decided her mother would not miss: a rotary Princess phone, sewing patterns, piles of old utility bills, five frosted iced-tea glasses, a bunch of mismatched coffee mugs bearing slogans, a three-pod lamp missing one pod, the old rusted clam-shaped patio chair, a toaster with a frayed cord and curves like an old Buick fender, a kitchen clock with a knife, fork, and spoon as hour, minute, and second hands, a knitting bag with its contents of half-finished purple, turquoise, and green slippers, medicines that had expired, and a spidery thatch of old hangers.”

I enjoyed but didn’t love The Bonesetter’s Daughter by Amy Tan, mostly because I felt the big push of the plot, the puzzle to be solved, wasn’t integral to, well, the plot, or the characters. It was like an extra thread woven in, which didn’t hurt anything and added a little extra color to what was happening, except that it wasn’t allowed to be subtext. It had to be the main thing, the most important thread, highlighted, emphasized… and it just didn’t work.

Otherwise, great book. 🤷‍♀️

And it had this superb example, quoted above, of one of my very things: the ultra-specific random list.

I love these. I am delighted whenever I come across them. And this was a good one.