You must, Adeline sobs, forgive me, I do miss him so awfully badly ... She takes a handkerchief from her sleeve, presses it to one coon eye, then the other, staunching her uselessness, her passivity. Audrey, whose own hands fret with the myriad shocks following on from her work, has at least this consolation: that she is a part of the giant - an infinitesimally small part, perhaps a hair twisting on the muscled expanse of his back, but for all that, a part - whereas this fine lady is nothing at all.
--Will Self, Umbrella
Just finished the book above. I'm too tired to write a review longer than, "worth reading." Which it is.