The hook is meant to show how the author writes and give the reader a feel for the book itself.
A Tin Roof
"One more rainy season and our roof will be gone, says Ama.
My mother is standing on a log ladder, inspecting the thatch,
and I am on the ground, handing the laundry up to her so it
can bake dry in the afternoon sun. There are no clouds in
sight. No hint of rain, no chance of it, for weeks.
There is no use in telling Ama this, though. She is looking
down the mountain at the rice terraces that descend, step by
step, to the village below, at the neighbors' tin roofs winking
cruellly back at her.
A tin roof means that the family has a father who doesn't
gamble away the landlords' money playing cards in the tea
shop. A tin roof means the familt has a son working at the
brick kiln in the city. A tin roof means that when the rains
come, the fire stays lit and the baby stays healthy.
"Let me go to the city," I say. " I can work for a rich family like
Gita does, and send my wages home to you."
Ama strokes my cheek, the skin of her work-worm hand as
rough as the tongue of a newborn goat. "Lakshmi, my child,"
she says. "You must stay in school, no matter what your
stepfather says."
Lately, I want to tell her, my stepfather looks at me the same
way he looks at the cucumbers I'm growing in front of our
hut. He flicks the ash from his cigarette and squints. "You had
better get a good price for them," he says.
When he looks, he sees cigarettes and rice beer, a new vest
for himself.
I see a tin roof."
"One more rainy season and our roof will be gone, says Ama.
My mother is standing on a log ladder, inspecting the thatch,
and I am on the ground, handing the laundry up to her so it
can bake dry in the afternoon sun. There are no clouds in
sight. No hint of rain, no chance of it, for weeks.
There is no use in telling Ama this, though. She is looking
down the mountain at the rice terraces that descend, step by
step, to the village below, at the neighbors' tin roofs winking
cruellly back at her.
A tin roof means that the family has a father who doesn't
gamble away the landlords' money playing cards in the tea
shop. A tin roof means the familt has a son working at the
brick kiln in the city. A tin roof means that when the rains
come, the fire stays lit and the baby stays healthy.
"Let me go to the city," I say. " I can work for a rich family like
Gita does, and send my wages home to you."
Ama strokes my cheek, the skin of her work-worm hand as
rough as the tongue of a newborn goat. "Lakshmi, my child,"
she says. "You must stay in school, no matter what your
stepfather says."
Lately, I want to tell her, my stepfather looks at me the same
way he looks at the cucumbers I'm growing in front of our
hut. He flicks the ash from his cigarette and squints. "You had
better get a good price for them," he says.
When he looks, he sees cigarettes and rice beer, a new vest
for himself.
I see a tin roof."