This little book started as a short story in the New Yorker, and it still retains the short story's honed, compact style. Events are told in scenes that are more sketches than paintings. Some characters' names are never known (the girl who is the main character being one of them), while other nam...
This is one of the books I bought while in Ireland by and Irish author.Poignant. It caused me to smile and sigh and shed tears. Here's a quote to mull over:" 'Ah, the women are nearly always right, all the same,' he says. 'Do you know what the women have a gift for?' 'What?' 'Eventualities. ...
Une courte critique pour un court roman. Il ne faut pas y voir de désintérêt de ma part mais de ce roman lumineux (ou de cette nouvelle, à moins qu'il ne s'agisse finalement d'un conte...) moins on en dit, mieux c'est ! Car ici, Claire Keegan laisse le lecteur libre de ressentir le foisonnement d...
I originally drew this book for my monthly book club, but decided to go with another when I realized how difficult it is to get your hands on a copy of this. It seems the only way is to order it online (though I'm sure you can get it for an e-reader. I'm not the e-reader type). However, I was ...
Five days have passed since he left Cambridge to spend time with his mother on the Texas coast. Up here, the wind is strong. The plastic leaves of the tall, potted plants beat against the sliding glass. He does not care for the penthouse with its open-mouthed swordfish on the walls, the blue tile...
She rises, opens the window outward, hears the swoon of matinee music in the road. Winter air teems in on this, the last day of the twentieth century. Cordelia strips naked, pours water from the steel jug, half-fills the basin, wrings out the wash-cloth, soaps her hands, her face. When the pipes ...