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By the time Esti arrived home, only thirty-four minutes remained
before the start of Sabbath. (* The small package in her hand [a pregnancy
tester] spoke of its reliable results in only one minute. *) (* BUT THE SOUP
MUTTERED COLDLY, WITH ROUND SYLLABLES of fat on its surface. AND THE
CHICKENS, knowing their own incompleteness, ruffled non-existent
feathers, DEMANDING a perfect brown to replace their own.*) ... She
worked, warming the soup, roasting the chickens, ... Friday marked off
the moments more and more clearly: tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Slow
and steady, (* neither aggrieved nor impatient,*) but inexorable as the
tide. Tick-tock, tick-tock.
[[Text: p.173]]
{Personification metaphor in several places, two arguably involving IDEAS AS
EXTERNAL UTTERANCES in that the ideas that the soup and the chicken need
cokkign is Esti's.}
I marched through Golders Green, passing by the rows of Jewish
stores. The little world my people have built here. (* The kosher
butchers' shops frowned at me, ASKING WHY I hadn't tried their chopped
liver, now only £2.25 a quarter. The recruitment agency smiled
widely, INVITING ME to apply for a job with a Sabbath-observant company,
half-day Fridays in the winter. Moishe's salon raised an eyebrow at my
hairstyle and WONDERED if I wouldn't like something, maybe, a bit more
like everyone else? *)
[[Text: p.121]]
{Combined with personification metaphor about the shops, plus (via some
sort of METONYMIC link?) ascription to them of thoughts of the
narrator.}
How many books were there [in the house of her recently deceased
father]? I estimated ... : 5,922, give or take. I wondered if I'd read
5,922 books in total in my life. (* But you weren't supposed to read us,
THE QUIET BOOKS MURMURED, you were supposed to get married and have
children. You were to bring grandchildren to this [p.75] house. Have you
done so, wayward and rebellious daughter?*..) (..* Be quiet, I said,
stop talking.*..)
[NP]
This is the problem with having been brought up in an Orthodox Jewish
home, with those ancient stories about (..* Torah SCROLLS THAT DEBATE WITH
EACH OTHER, ... There's still a part of me that believes that BOOKS CAN TALK. That
isn't surprised when they start to do it. And, naturally, BOOKS IN MY
FATHER'S HOUSE WOULD BE HYPER-CRITICAL. I could HEAR THEM, in that room,
WHISPERING TO EACH OTHER: no grandchildren, they said, not even a
husband. ...*)
[NP]
So I took the only route open to me. [Puts a radio on loud with pop
music.]
[[Text: p.74/5]]
{The personification metaphor the narrator is using is not just
a way she is thinking of the books, but she actually feels them
talking to her, to the extent that she has to put on radio to block out
the sound.}
{See the Text for a METONYMIC connection between the books and her father etc.}
{NB: at one point, embedding of idea that books can talk within a use of
MIND PARTS AS PERSONS.}
[START OF A STORY] Sharon pulled herself out of her jeans, (* the words `How could
he? How could he?' jumping about her wearied brain.*) Senseless, leaving
her empty, cold, helpless. (* ANOTHER VOICE, ANGRY AND VINDICTIVE, SHOUTED IN
HER EAR, `Serves you right, you silly fool: ... '[.]*)
[[Text: source]]