Little Fires Everywhere: The New York Times Top Ten Bestseller

Pearl had understood the hierarchy: her mother’s real work was her art, and whatever paid the bills existed only to make that art possible.

who thought the best way to push students out of their comfort zones was to bulldoze them into rubble during critiques.

what a thing, to choose between hunger and darkness.

Betsy Manwill, Mrs. Richardson thought, had always been timid. She’d always needed a good push to do anything, even things she wanted to do. You had to give her permission for every little thing: to wear lipstick, to buy a pretty dress, to put her hand up in class. Wishy-washy. She needed a firm hand.

Part of her wanted to scream, so she slid a Tori Amos CD into the player, turned up the volume, and let it do the screaming for her.

She had, in short, done everything right and she had built a good life, the kind of life she wanted, the kind of life everyone wanted. Now here was this Mia, a completely different kind of woman leading a completely different life, who seemed to make her own rules with no apologies. Like the photograph of the spider-dancer, Mrs. Richardson found th

They were so artlessly beautiful, even right out of bed. Where did this ease come from? How could they be so at home, so sure of themselves, even in pajamas?

Mostly, however, she had felt relief: that she could slide out of this life and begin anew, like a snake shedding its skin.

“I don’t have a plan, I’m afraid,” she said, lifting the knife again. “But then, no one really does, no matter what they say.”