I have not written a review (yet) for Lily King's The English Teacher.
And like all good books choosing quotes is hard. Here tho are two:

p. 103

"MEMORY DOES ITS WORK UNDERGROUND. BENEATH CONSCIOUSNESS, A PAST
moment finds its kin all at once. Like a fish returned to its school,
it frolics in remembered waters, and stirs up others. Above the
surface, at first, there are only a few brief innocuous ripples which
are all you can allow yourself to know of the commotion below: a
checked shirt, the white rim of a porcelain sink. The fluid sequence
of moments seems, luckily, irretrievable; there is no line to follow
with a finger, no story she feels able to tell. Yet even awful,
unlivable memories want to be relived; the fragments yearn to be whole
once more."

Following this observation, we find Vida, the main character in the
book, watching the cottage she and her son Peter have lived in for 16
years getting "renovated," i.e. ripped apart, and she is despondent.

A little later in the book we learn the school she teaches at has just
had a computer room added. For a half million bucks. The gung ho geek
Mark asks her to type in a paragraph. She picks something from
Othello.

Of course the spell/grammar checker goes crazy.

She tells him

"You can't expect a machine to have a sensitivity to the rhythms and
nuances of the English language. Sometimes the least grammatically
correct sentence is the best choice. I don't want a computer holding
back my students' creativity."

Mark:

"In fifty years, these babies are going to be writing better books
than anything you've ever taught them."

"You can't believe that."

"I don't have to believe it. I know it, my friend."

Before the creation of this room, Mark had been a geography teacher.
Vida watched him now, pacing the length of the royal-blue carpet,
gazing with possessive pleasure at his hot droning monsters. She
thought of the threshing machine, Hardy's symbol of the Industrial
Age, that despotic contraption that forced an inhuman pace on
fieldworkers, separating their souls from the land forever. Her chest
tightened. She felt it, right here, right now, what Hardy had felt,
the ache of modernism.