“We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, ‘I survived’.”
― Chris Cleave, Little Bee
Book Title: Little Bee
Author: Chris Cleave
Publication Date: 2010
Genres: Adult Fiction, Cultural Fiction
How I Found It: Sale Table at Barnes and Noble
Goodreads Rating: 3.63 Stars
My Rating: 4 Stars
We don’t want to tell you what happens in this book. It is a truly special story and we don’t want to spoil it. Nevertheless, you need to know enough to buy it, so we will just say this.
This is the story of two women.
Their lives collide one fateful day, and one of them has to make a terrible choice, the kind of choice we hope you never have to face. Two years later, they meet again–the story starts there…
One you have read it, you’ll want to tell your friends about it. When you do, please don’t tell them what happens. The magic is in how the story unfolds.
When I read the back of this book, I had no idea what to expect. I mean, really, the back cover doesn’t say anything. But it was on sale at Barnes and Noble, and it caught my attention, so I figured I could try it.
I’m so glad I did. This story had two points of view, which is something I love in books. Part of it was written by Sarah. The other part was written by Little Bee.
This story really surprised me and opened my eyes to different worlds. I won’t say much more, because I really don’t want to give away any of the plot details. Just know that this book is emotionally heavy, but worth the read. It will inspire you and bring out your faith in humanity.
“I could not stop talking because now I had started my story, it wanted to be finished. We cannot choose where to start and stop. Our stories are the tellers of us. ”
“Horror in your country is something you take a dose of to remind yourself that you are not suffering from it.”
“I planned how I would kill myself in the time of Churchill (stand under bombs), Victoria (throw myself under a horse), and Henry the Eighth (marry Henry the Eighth)”
“Still shaking, in the pew, I understood that it isn’t the dead we cry for. We cry for ourselves, and I didn’t deserve my own pity.”