By W. D. Wetherell
Winner of the 2004 Michigan Literary Fiction Award for novelA haunting tale of the ability of demise, the ache of loss, and the potential of hope."Gripping, damning, and transfixing."---Entertainment Weekly" . . . possesses a time-bending gravity. . . . [A] small vintage of sleek language and earned emotion."---San Francisco Chronicle". . . a fantastically written novel of battle and the wrenching grief and unanswerable questions it leaves in its wake. . . . A Century of November is filled with specific, startling imagery and chic, richly poetic description---Wetherell turns out surely incapable of writing a lazy sentence---and this final component of the radical is as surreal, hypnotic and harrowing as any literature in fresh reminiscence. the whole lot, actually, is a jewel, an unforgettable historic novel that Wetherell has conscientiously (and artfully) seeded with a great deal of modern resonance." ---Star-Tribune (Minneapolis)"A poignant, probing tale. . . . Wetherell's prose and personality writing are unflinching . . . [and his] tackle a parent's discomfort is deeply moving."---Publishers Weekly "A well timed reminder of the devastation of mortal strive against. . . ."---Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Read Online or Download A Century of November PDF
Similar literary books
2012 Winner of the Andrew Carnegie Award for Excellence in Literature "This lovely novel through a Booker Prize winner . . . deals up its brilliance when it comes to astonishingly powerful storytelling. "―Booklist, starred evaluation "A new, unapologetic form of adultery novel. Narrated through the proverbial different woman―Gina Moynihan, a pointy, horny, darkly humorous thirtysomething IT worker―The Forgotten Waltz charts an extramarital affair from first come across to prepared, settled, daily domesticity.
Monsieur Monde is a winning middle-aged businessman in Paris. One morning he walks out on his existence, leaving his spouse asleep in mattress, leaving every thing. no longer lengthy after, he surfaces at the Riviera, protecting corporation with drunks, whores and pimps, with thieves and their marks. an entire new international, the place he feels strangely at home—at least for it slow.
Oral Poetics has produced insights which are proper not just for the learn of oral traditions, but additionally for our common realizing of language and cognition. Cognitive technological know-how has constructed theories with nice power for examine on poetics and oral functionality. This e-book explores how connections among the 2 disciplines can result in a Cognitive Oral Poetics, a brand new box for the examine of oral poetry as a window to the brain.
- What is coming? : a forecast of things after the war
- The Visitors
- August 1914 (The Red Wheel, Knot I)
- The Prophet Elijah in the Literature of the Second Temple Period: The Growth of a Tradition
Extra info for A Century of November
She pressed forward as rigidly, as hopefully, as the others, but there was some thing in her that wouldn't let her speak. She caught his eye once. Their joint silence, as if usual in such cases, became a bond that separated them from the others. The overdressed woman was talking now, the one who tried to get the introductions started. She had an accent that Marden thought might be of Boston, affected, mincing, and yet what she said was sincere 37 enough, bewildered enough, to stand as the summary of all they felt.
There was so much determination in her, so much energy, he was certain she would find it. Peace. Yes. A personal kind of peace. Peace for Susan Marshall. And yet these kinds of words made him feel uncomfort able-it wasn't far removed from talking of angels and fairies. "I saw a man killed by blast once," he said, speaking 42 very softly. "It was a logging train, a small-gauge loco motive with a boiler that jammed. It wasn't particularly horrible, the sight of him. What was horrible was how fate snapped its fingers and in an instant this man was nothing.
He hadn't written many letters, three or four in two years. Always, when he and Laura read them out loud to each other, they'd gotten the feeling he wasn't chary with words because he had none, but because he overflowed with too many, didn't know where to start. This last letter, for him, had been almost chatty. We're in billets in Wiltshire, he wrote. The local people have been wonderfully kind. Wonderfully. I walked with a girl along a country lane there. I told her about the island It was good, it brought everything back to me.
A Century of November by W. D. Wetherell