“All you can do, I suppose, is to remember” I like that Dorothy. But then it begs the question in relation to Vera and the narrator, when does remembering get in the way of living? When does holding onto the past keep us from living in the present? And when does not having a sense of the past, a memory, leave us rootless and floating?

Well, those are tough questions!  I suppose that brings us right back to questions of interpretation—do we think Vera is trapped by the past and by memory, or is she living peacefully with them?  Or is there some sort of tension between the two?

So, to change the subject, what will our next book be?  Litlove, it’s tradition for the last one who chose to pick the next person to choose—any thoughts?  Or does someone want to be the next chooser?

Because there is so much left unsaid, the book is like a mobius strip, you always end up back right where you began!