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WHO AM I?
Here are the rules. Here is the excerpt of the week:
The following year, in fifth grade, my own breasts began to develop. I discovered it while sitting on the edge of my bed in my underwear. There was a pain, or throb in my breasts, something that called me to them. With a fat dirty-nailed finger I rubbed and prodded until I found a large sore nut underneath the thin skin of each nipple. I called my sister in, she was fourteen, a flat-chested gymnast, on the precipice of anorexia.
“What’s this?” I asked, and I pushed her finger onto one nob.
[Who am I? Read more and find out!]
Last week: Naguib Mahfouz, author of the Cairo Trilogy.
It’s Jessica! Jessica!! I don’t even have to look to know.
And I’m guessing the picture is Eudora Welty, though I don’t know for sure.
I’m going to say Edith Hamilton, only because I must have been assigned her book five times in high school and recall that imperious visage.
But whether Jessica’s story is a re-telling of a myth from Hamilton’s work, I wish I knew. I probably would have paid more attention if it had been in there.