Little Fires Everywhere: The New York Times Top Ten Bestseller

Pearl, for a moment, imagined herself transforming into a tree. Rooting herself so deeply on that spot that nothing could displace her.

Inside were their portraits, inverted and reversed, all the dark made light and the light made dark.

It was as if instead of entering a house she was entering the idea of a house, some archetype brought to life here before her.

the plush greenness that comes with affluence

Each room had been painted a different color – the kitchen a sunny yellow, the living room a deep cantaloupe, the bedrooms a warm peach – and the overall effect was of stepping into a box of sunlight, even on a cloudy day.

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

that would be the idea just beginning to sparkle in Mia’s mind as she flicked on the headlights, a wisp of an idea, not yet coalesced into an image, let alone words.

there had also been an intense comfort in being close together, like small animals sheltered deep in their den.

and she held this knowledge inside her like a splinter, something she was careful not to touch.