My tongue was the size and consistency of a mattress…

Reading time: Less than 2 minutes

I like to share interesting pieces of figurative language I encounter in my reading. I write today about a handful of similes and metaphors from Alexandra Fuller…

I used to belong to a book club and one of the first works we devoured was the 2003 memoir Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight. Written by Alexandra Fuller (pictured above), who was raised in white Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), the book recounts her growing up in middle of the Rhodesian Civil War. It’s a gripping story, surprisingly funny at times and, of course, tragic. It’s also very well told. This woman can really write, I thought.

I looked forward to the 2015 sequel, Leaving Before the Rains Comebecause I had enjoyed the first memoir so much. This one — the story of her marriage and its dissolution — doesn’t quite match the first in pacing or insight. But she’s still a very fine wordsmith with an acute eye and ear for figurative language. Here are the similes and metaphors I enjoyed most:

  • But the truth is, most of the things that change the course of our lives happen in fleeting unguarded moments; grief buckling us at the knees; fear shattering through us like buckshot; love pulling us out on an unseen tide.
  • By the glare of the bare bulb hanging above the veranda door, I could see where a lifetime of grief, worry, and fear had accumulated in a web of fine lines around her eyes the way dream-catchers are supposed to catch dreams.
  • Granny pushed herself up on her elbows, her face alight with expectation. It was obvious Granny’s mind was taking its final shaky flight; it flittered around like an elderly butterfly, perhaps still capable of fancy and beauty, but mostly notable for landing without conviction and taking off with unsteadiness.
  • I would be fine now, I was on the drugs I needed. But I didn’t feel fine. My tongue was the size and consistency of a mattress.
  • I was shown to a lonely waiting room, beige with the indifferent anonymity of sad public spaces, whirring with the accumulated energy of other people’s anxiety, grief and hope.

The mattress metaphor remains my favourite.

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