Welcome to another installment of If My Book, the Monkeybicycle feature in which authors shed light on their recently released books by comparing them to weird things. This week Neile Parisi writes about her novel, Today My Name Is Billie, out now from Green Writers Press.
If Today My Name Is Billie were a porch, it would be a wrap-around porch that hugged the side of the building like two enormous hands enveloping me, assuring me that everything would be alright.
If my book were a cloud, it would be a huge ominous black storm cloud with slivers of sunlight shining through, professing that the future would be bright.
If my book were a cocoon, it would represent the metamorphosis, the changing state of the worm that develops into an exquisite butterfly depicting how I would rise again and become beautiful once more.
If my book were a location, it would be Hades or Dantes Inferno the darkest deepest saddest place to reside in or be exiled to.
If my book were a house, it would be a long-forgotten dilapidated one that neared foreclosure but was approaching a rehabilitation stage and would be repaired, made glorious again and returned to a valued position, a rebirth, a reinvention, a new entity.
If my book were a tree, it would be a palmetto tree that survives the harsh winds and storms, that bends with the wind but always returns triumphant and survives.
If my book were a car, it would be a Lincoln SUV with tinted windows so you could never see my tears rolling down my cheeks, and massive interior space to hold all the burdens of the world.
If my book were a fairy tale, I wouldn’t be a realtor now; I would still be teaching in my classroom, surrounded by my students, loving my career and basking in the joy of being an educator.
If my book were a song, it would be “I Will Survive,” because that’s what I had to do to have peace and power.
If my book were a church, I would not have to stand and prove my innocence, because the truth shall set me free.
If my book were a flower, it would be a sunflower, always turning to face the sun, looking for better days, filled with hundreds of seeds to indicate there will be life again, that joy comes in the morning and that there is hope in the future.
If my book were a classroom, I would be there, ever present, ever trying to make a difference, ever teaching.
If my book were a stained glass, it would reflect all the beauty of the world, continuously piercing the light with every turn, and promising to become prettier and brighter with each reflection.
