A brother, sister, and grandpa try to make a safe journey away from a deadly insidious smallpox. Scenes of fighting and shooting within this tale, menA brother, sister, and grandpa try to make a safe journey away from a deadly insidious smallpox. Scenes of fighting and shooting within this tale, men on horses, set in a time of the horse and cart, bandits, gunfighters and kidnappers.
There be some dust to dust, bullet and lust, and devilry along the way, in delivery of vengeance and salvation. Bad guys have in the wings, on the road, in pursuit of them, a motley crew in search of some good old justice and material gain.
The Parkers are made of tuff stock and desperate times put one boy through the hardest times of his life, he traverses through a period of coming of age on this road. There be a first for many a thing for him, in this darn good cinematic True Grit by Charles Portis like tale.
Lonsdale writing with great dialogue, memorable characters, great similes, thee picturesque, and great scenes of action. He is a darn good storyteller, his writing flows with qualities that keep you hooked in the narrative till the end, a Texas noir master.
Troy was an athlete, an artist, and a soldier. He had kin, brothers and sisters, his death brings grief upon the family concerned in this story. One sTroy was an athlete, an artist, and a soldier. He had kin, brothers and sisters, his death brings grief upon the family concerned in this story. One sister in particular, the narrator of this tale in first person narrative, the wonderful Annie, her voice, her world view, the world according to her, her keen perspective on the world as we know it is the stuff that makes this such a great tale, by the end you feel you know Annie, you’ve learned of her through her coming of age and family trials, the authors characterisation and empathy crafted in this work was spot on and he depicts her with great skill in showing her to us in this wonderful story. The story was set in testing times the great depression and Pearl Harbour. Though shall forever remember her, her journey, her love, her losses, her gains, and her struggle to find tears in a testing time that awaits its weeping in this tale. From her naievty of youth to her wisdom of age you will love this walk that this capable author has immersed you in. There is a presence of death and loss like that of his bestseller Gap Creek for me this novel had me hooked more than Gap Creek.
Read the excerpts and you can get a taste of the voice of Annie and her sometimes humorous understandings.
“Now when we got to the house, Papa walked straight to Mama where she set by the bread safe. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t even look up at him. I’d seen her do that before. She couldn’t stand to be comforted or show affection in front of anybody. He’d touch her, try to put his arm around her, and she’d just pay him no heed. I thought she was too shy to show her feelings when another person was looking. Maybe she thought her and Papa was too old to act intimate. But when she just set there paying no attention to Papa reaching out to her at that awful moment, I seen it was something else. She’d give her life to working for other people and caring for other people. She’d put up with Papas whims and rages, and all it had led to was this. She’d lived on grits and molasses when they was young down on Gap Creek. She’d give everything to raise her children, and she had lost her favorite child. She didn’t want to show no emotion anymore.”
“I never did understand why men was attracted to me. For I was never much attracted to them. Or I guess I was and I wasn’t. It was a kind of surprise when I was about thirteen and just beginning to show breasts and to have hips you could notice that I seen men watching me. It was a little scary to catch men and big boys always looking at my legs. My legs was just beginning to get their shape then. I was a skinny little thing when I was a girl, and the dresses we wore in those days went down to your ankles almost. But I’d see men looking at my ankles and calves. Men always look at a woman’s legs first. I reckon they can’t help it.
When you’re a little girl it don’t occur to you how fascinating a woman’s butt is to a man. And even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to talk about it. But it was shivery to find a man studying your behind, especially when you walked, like they couldn’t take their eyes off it. And if you caught them looking, most turned away, like they was ashamed of enjoying the sight of your rear end. But some didn’t care at all. They’d look you right in the eye and grin. The bold men was the scariest. They’d stare at you like they could see everything under your dress, like you didn’t have no clothes on at all.
There is a way in which men just seem like animals, compared to women. Most of the time all men think about is their bellies. The saying is that the way to a man’s heart is through his belly, and I reckon that’s true, as far as it goes. Men will set down at the table and eat like hogs, they will. And when nobody ain’t looking they’ll go out in the garden and eat four ripe tomatoes or half a watermelon that has cooled overnight and still has dew on it.”
“Oh, about fifty miles,” Papa said, and laughed.
The road went through a holler between thickets of laurel bushes deeper and deeper and I heard the roar of water. The noise of a waterfall is like a warning. It makes you shudder.
The road come out of the laurels beside a pool, and above the pool a long gray beard of water fell off the lip of rock and tumbled down a slope rough as a washboard. The roar by itself made you think it was something terrible, like the end of the world.
Beyond the falls the road wound on around the hill and plunged down again so steep Papa had to pull on the wagon brake and you could hear the wheel scrubbing on the wood of the brake. My knees got sore from going down the steep hill.
Finally we come to a field and the road run along the edge of the field and dropped into the river. Papa stopped the horse right at the bank. He told Velmer to tie the cows rope to the back of the wagon. Then he pointed up the river to a foot log and told us to cross there.
Now I’d crossed little foot logs over Gap Creek that bounced and swayed but wasn’t too long. But this was a big foot log high up over the river. There was a handrail to hold on to, but I stepped up on the end of the log and stopped. The swirl of water far below made me dizzy. I watched Effie walk across the swaying log and my knees felt weak. Leaves floated by on the water below. Birch trees and maple trees leaned out over the river. I thought of getting down and crawling across the log. Papa had already drove the wagon across the ford and stopped on the other side.”
“I DON’T RECKON anybody could see the Depression coming on, unless it was the preachers. Preachers kept saying the world was coming to an end or coming to a terrible punishment for the sins that people had done. It was a terrible time of bootlegging and gangsters and wild parties in the cities, and girls that cut off nearly all their hair and acted like they’d gone crazy, wearing lipstick and rouge and smoking cigarettes in public. But preachers talk that way, don’t they? Preachers always sec doom and tribulation. That’s how they get people to come up to the altar and get saved and join their church and give their money to the collection. They get them scared and then they keep them scared.
But nobody I knew could tell what was going to happen when we heard the stock market way up north crashed and people jumped out of windows. I thought a stock market was a place where they sold horses and cattle. It sounded like a whole building that had burned and fell down. I was in my last year of high school and everybody seemed to be talking about the Wall Street Panic.”
“When we got outside and walked down the steps the sunlight was almost blinding. It was not a sunny day, but the light in the clouds was glaring. It seemed almost strange to me to come out of the church and see the trees and feel the wind. I was almost surprised to see the road and the fields, the parked cars and cattle in the pasture, and the gray and blue mountains, and everything going on about its business, like nothing had happened in the church, nothing had been said. There seemed little connection between the words inside the church and what went on outside. But the strangeness was not bad. In fact it was comforting, to see the peacefulness of the shrubbery and parking lot, going on in time as always. It was both good and scary to see that time didn’t stop for nothing. We might all be getting older, and a dear one was gone, but life and time went on, no matter about the talk of hell and heaven, sin and getting saved.”
This author has successfully created an inferno here on earth amidst people, characters you know and sPrepare yourself for a poetic inferno of a ride.
This author has successfully created an inferno here on earth amidst people, characters you know and see everyday, characters whom whilst not quite understanding the real deal trapped in a vicious circle of love, pain, submission and rebellion.
Betrayal, murder, revenge, ties that bond with serious consequences, parents failing their kids, parents that want control and order, others that had lost it, young girls, sisters in rebellion whom want to understand each other and find someone who attains control over them, this someone insidiously spins a web and has them seeing things very foggily.
In this seat of power lays Justinian, he seeks to have those around him find pleasure through pain and power through submission and wisdom through doing stupid things.
The author has you total immersed in these believable characters she has cast, tied in viscerally with great writing, sentencing, and the dying need to know how they all end up in their little bubble of finding themselves through the lies, betrayal and darkness.
A story that will have you thoroughly satisfied in what being caught up in a great tale was once like.
One for the must reads of 2013 list.
“Here, with Justinian and his people, was the only place she would ever feel safe again.”
”I’m not normal. I’m not like them. I’m like you. This is where I belong.”
Good citizen and bad citizen, Nuclear weaponary, War games, KGB, CIA, Russia and America, presidents, secrets and defections. These all feature somewheGood citizen and bad citizen, Nuclear weaponary, War games, KGB, CIA, Russia and America, presidents, secrets and defections. These all feature somewhere in this storys timeline. The author tells the tale of two young girls in America, rather wealthy ones, who find a war with Russia quite scary and decide to due the good deed of writing to the Russian president with a letter of concern. The main character who as already lost her sister to illness has forged a relationship with one particular schoolmate who catches the hearts of Russian officials in her letter and soon finds that she is also lost to a tragic accident. The writing never bored with all the Americans in Russia storytelling it held my interest to the end, the story edges around the spy field and defecting it does not go deep undercover but does a good job showing how some citizens defect in its storytelling. The tv series The American is doing well in the ratings, the Russian and American story seems to still pull in interest and so this tale may provide some decent entertainment in its reading, a story that has some historical significance....more