Review of 'Sticks Angelica, folk hero' on Goodreads
4 stars
1) "'So! I'm Sticks Angelica. 49 years old. Former: olympian, poet, scholar, sculptor, minister, activist, Governor General, entrepreneur, line cook, headmistress, mounty, columnist, libertarian, cellist.
I have lived alone my entire adult life, which is my preference. I've never had a home outside of Ontario.
I currently reside in Monterey National Park. I moved here after the scandal surrounding my father's finances came to light. I wanted to spend some time away from the public eye.
The air is so crisp and so clean that you can see the molecules floating in the space around you – brushing against your face, even. You can pluck them out of the air and listen to them hum.'"
2) "'I wonder what my body looks like at this point...'
'How come those plants are growing around you? Fingerplants, mistletoe...'
'The warmth emitted from my body is allowing a small amount of wildlife to …
1) "'So! I'm Sticks Angelica. 49 years old. Former: olympian, poet, scholar, sculptor, minister, activist, Governor General, entrepreneur, line cook, headmistress, mounty, columnist, libertarian, cellist.
I have lived alone my entire adult life, which is my preference. I've never had a home outside of Ontario.
I currently reside in Monterey National Park. I moved here after the scandal surrounding my father's finances came to light. I wanted to spend some time away from the public eye.
The air is so crisp and so clean that you can see the molecules floating in the space around you – brushing against your face, even. You can pluck them out of the air and listen to them hum.'"
2) "'I wonder what my body looks like at this point...'
'How come those plants are growing around you? Fingerplants, mistletoe...'
'The warmth emitted from my body is allowing a small amount of wildlife to grow through the snow.
Many animals have come up to kiss me, despite my protests.'"
3) "On my thirteenth birthday, Christmas Day, a birthday I shared with my brother, I invited Ryan Carbon to our birthday party. I wasn't friends with Ryan. He was very stupid. But I knew he had a crush on me, so I felt bad for him.
He had beautiful, long curls. My father invited press to the party and had expressed concern about his 'look' when vetting the attendees the week before. At the time, beautiful curls were associated with the controversial Acadian separatist movement.
At the party, my brother's imbecile friends were over too. They didn't like Ryan's curls because they once mistook him for a girl and catcalled him at recess, which was apparently embarrassing.
Since he wasn't my actual friend, I ignored Ryan during the party. At some point, my brother and his goons took him to the game room. They held him down and shaved his head. When I walked in on the scene, I saw my father and his cabinet ministers there. They were laughing and filming the incident. Buddy Stone, the Minister of Health, was gluing chunks of Ryan's hair to his scalp, a toupée he still sports today.
I reported this to Élodie, the mounty stationed outside my bedroom since the day I was born. She rounded up the boys and arrested the men.
To avoid a scandal, my father enacted his famous 'No Laws Christmas' policy. In the spirit of the holidays, all crimes committed on Christmas are forgiven by the Crown. Élodie, my first friend, died in a military prison.
Christmas is a holiday for criminal men."