But Saturdays were football and cereal and Daddy’s hand in her hair. He laughed at the commercials, and she laughed, too, even when she didn’t understand. Daddy cheered or groaned over plays and calls, and she did, too, even if the screen was just a confusing jumble of men in burnt orange who seemed to like to hurt anyone who wasn’t dressed like them.
Seriously, I can't describe how much I love this paragraph. It shows so much about Tyra and her dad, and what it all means to little Tyra. And this:
By that time, Tyra was old enough to realize there were two addictions Dillon had that were going to suck the town dry and break its spirit: oil and football. She saw grown men who thought they owned the world because of a huge ugly ring on their fingers. She saw teenage boys crack under the weight of a whole town’s expectations. She saw families split apart by Dillon’s two passions.
Because Tyra is so much more perceptive than anyone in Dillon wants to admit, and all the more so when the push her to the outside, so this bit just *fits.* Tyra, her dad, Dillon, and football, all in one little section, and it's lovely.
Mama’s daddy died when she was seven, and Tyra tells herself that that explains it, even if it doesn’t excuse it. Mama’s always had to have a man look at her like she’s beautiful, and Tyra knows this from the stories she heard growing up.
And there you go, again, summing things up so clearly and cleanly, in a few sentences, what should take you at least a couple paragraphs
He was too busy making sure they didn’t get evicted or have to eat canned chili for dinner for the tenth time in a row.
I really like this line--because Tyra's dad isn't perfect in the way we like to expect, with flowers and special personal attention, but he's doing it "wrong" for the right reasons, because they are just barely getting by, and he's working hard for even that, and it's all so much of life rather than Angela's fancies.
Tyra sticks up for her because she’s blood and that’s what you do for family and because she’s still grasping hold of the idea that someday they’ll be a real family again and Mama will look at her and see her.
And, hi!, it's Tyra and her mom. Although, I don’t think that Angela is completely blind to Tyra--if it comes down to it, Angela is still a mom somewhere down there with all the other parts--but I can see, overall, where this comes from, because Tyra really has to drag it out of Angela.
When Lyla visited, she played, too (because Lyla used to be Tyra’s best friend, before high school and hierarchies and hatred), though she didn’t want to get her dresses dirty—she’d get in trouble.
I just...cannot see Lyla and Tyra being best friends. It hurts my brain, even putting aside how much I kind of hate Lyla. But, it's your writing, and you make me *want* to buy it. This is fundamentally unfair :p
long review, pt. 1
But Saturdays were football and cereal and Daddy’s hand in her hair. He laughed at the commercials, and she laughed, too, even when she didn’t understand. Daddy cheered or groaned over plays and calls, and she did, too, even if the screen was just a confusing jumble of men in burnt orange who seemed to like to hurt anyone who wasn’t dressed like them.
Seriously, I can't describe how much I love this paragraph. It shows so much about Tyra and her dad, and what it all means to little Tyra. And this:
By that time, Tyra was old enough to realize there were two addictions Dillon had that were going to suck the town dry and break its spirit: oil and football.
She saw grown men who thought they owned the world because of a huge ugly ring on their fingers. She saw teenage boys crack under the weight of a whole town’s expectations. She saw families split apart by Dillon’s two passions.
Because Tyra is so much more perceptive than anyone in Dillon wants to admit, and all the more so when the push her to the outside, so this bit just *fits.* Tyra, her dad, Dillon, and football, all in one little section, and it's lovely.
Mama’s daddy died when she was seven, and Tyra tells herself that that explains it, even if it doesn’t excuse it. Mama’s always had to have a man look at her like she’s beautiful, and Tyra knows this from the stories she heard growing up.
And there you go, again, summing things up so clearly and cleanly, in a few sentences, what should take you at least a couple paragraphs
He was too busy making sure they didn’t get evicted or have to eat canned chili for dinner for the tenth time in a row.
I really like this line--because Tyra's dad isn't perfect in the way we like to expect, with flowers and special personal attention, but he's doing it "wrong" for the right reasons, because they are just barely getting by, and he's working hard for even that, and it's all so much of life rather than Angela's fancies.
Tyra sticks up for her because she’s blood and that’s what you do for family and because she’s still grasping hold of the idea that someday they’ll be a real family again and Mama will look at her and see her.
And, hi!, it's Tyra and her mom. Although, I don’t think that Angela is completely blind to Tyra--if it comes down to it, Angela is still a mom somewhere down there with all the other parts--but I can see, overall, where this comes from, because Tyra really has to drag it out of Angela.
When Lyla visited, she played, too (because Lyla used to be Tyra’s best friend, before high school and hierarchies and hatred), though she didn’t want to get her dresses dirty—she’d get in trouble.
I just...cannot see Lyla and Tyra being best friends. It hurts my brain, even putting aside how much I kind of hate Lyla. But, it's your writing, and you make me *want* to buy it. This is fundamentally unfair :p