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George Saunders: Lincoln in the Bardo

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George Saunders Lincoln in the Bardo

Lincoln in the Bardo: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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The captivating first novel by the best-selling, National Book Award nominee George Saunders, about Abraham Lincoln and the death of his eleven year old son, Willie, at the dawn of the Civil War On February 22, 1862, two days after his death, Willie Lincoln was laid to rest in a marble crypt in a Georgetown cemetery. That very night, shattered by grief, Abraham Lincoln arrives at the cemetery under cover of darkness and visits the crypt, alone, to spend time with his son’s body. Set over the course of that one night and populated by ghosts of the recently passed and the long dead, is a thrilling exploration of death, grief, the powers of good and evil, a novel — in its form and voice — completely unlike anything you have read before. It is also, in the end, an exploration of the deeper meaning and possibilities of life, written as only George Saunders can: with humor, pathos, and grace.

George Saunders: другие книги автора


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mrs. elizabeth crawford

Being harassed all the while by Longstreet, that wretch who resides near the askew bench.

roger bevins iii

Mark you, gentlemen, my subtle understanding of the significant aspects of the costuming: the hooks-and-eyes, the Ellis-In, the intricate Rainy Daisy skirt, I tell you, Scudder, it’s like peeling an onion: unlacing, unhooking, cajoling, until one gets, at last, hardly at a fast pace, to the center of the drama, the jewel — as one would say — its bosky dell—

sam “smooth-boy” longstreet

Who groped and pawed her continually as we went along, Mrs. Crawford remaining blessedly oblivious to his disgusting attentions.

the reverend everly thomas

The lad, overawed, followed close behind us, looking this way and that.

hans vollman

Well now I will give you A part of, or all of, if you like it, a Song my dear husband used to sing. Cauld it Adam and Eaves wedding Song. This Song was Sung by him at my sister’s wedding. He was much in the habit of making Songs and Singing of them and—

Oh no, I won’t go no closer.

Good day to you, sirs.

mrs. elizabeth crawford

We had reached the edge of an uninhabited wilderness of some several hundred yards that ended in the dreaded iron fence.

hans vollman

That noxious limit beyond which we could not venture.

roger bevins iii

How we hated the thing.

hans vollman

The Traynor girl lay as usual, trapped against, and part of, the fence, manifesting at that moment as a sort of horrid blackened furnace.

roger bevins iii

I could not help but recall her first day here, when she uninterruptedly manifested as a spinning young girl in a summer frock of continually shifting color.

the reverend everly thomas

I called out to her and asked her to speak to the lad. About the perils of this place. For the young.

hans vollman

The girl was silent. The door of the furnace she was at that moment only opened, then closed, affording us a brief glimpse of the terrible orange place of heat within.

roger bevins iii

She rapidly transmuted into the fallen bridge, the vulture, the large dog, the terrible hag gorging on black cake, the stand of flood-ravaged corn, the umbrella ripped open by a wind we could not feel.

the reverend everly thomas

Our earnest pleadings did no good. The girl would not talk.

hans vollman

We turned to go.

roger bevins iii

Something about the lad had touched her. The umbrella became the corn; the corn the hag; the hag the girl.

hans vollman

She gestured for him to step forward.

roger bevins iii

The lad approaching cautiously, she began to speak in a low voice we could not hear.

hans vollman

XIII.

Younge Mr Bristol desired me, younge Mr Fellowes and Mr Delway desired me, of an evening they would sit on the grass around me and in their eyes burned the fiercest kindest Desire. In my grape smock I would sit in the wikker chair amid that circle of admiring fierce kind eyes even unto the night when one or another boy would lay back and say, Oh the stars, and I would say, O yes, how fine they look tonight, while (I admit) imagining reclining there beside him, and the other boys, seeing me looking at the reklining one, would also imagine going down to recline there beside me.

It was all very

Then Mother would send Annie to come get me.

I was too early departed. From that party, from that

Brite promise of nights and nights of that, culminating in a choise, and the choise being made, it would be rite, and would become Love, and Love would become baby, and that is all I ask

I want ed so much to hold a dear Babe.

I know very wel I do not look as prety as I onseh. And over time, I admit, I have come to know serten words I did not formerly

Fuk cok shit reem ravage assfuk

And to know, in my mind, serten untoward kwarters where such things

Dim rum swoggling plases off bakalleys

Kome to love them

Crave them plases. And feel such anger.

I did not get any. Thing.

Was gone too soon

To get

Only forteen.

Yrs of aje

Plese do come again sir it has been a pleasure to make your

But fuk yr anshient frends (do not bring them agin) who kome to ogle and mok me and ask me to swindle no that is not the werd slender slander that wich I am doing. Wich is no more than what they are doing. Is it not so? What I am doing, if I only cary on fathefully, will, I am sure, bring about that longed-for return to

Green grass kind looks.

elise traynor

XIV.

Leaving that place the lad went quiet.

That will happen to me? he said.

It most certainly will, Mr. Vollman said.

It is — it is somewhat happening already, the Reverend added delicately.

roger bevins iii

We had reached the place where the dirt path drops down.

the reverend everly thomas

Near Freeley. Near Stevens. Near the four infant Nesbitts and their head-bent Angel.

roger bevins iii

Near Masterton. Near Ambusti. Near the obelisk and the three benches and the high-mounted bust of arrogant Merridale.

hans vollman

I believe, then, that I must do as you say, the boy said.

Good lad, said Mr. Vollman.

roger bevins iii

XV.

We embraced the boy at the door of his white stone home.

hans vollman

He gave us a shy smile, not untouched by trepidation at what was to come.

the reverend everly thomas

Go on, Mr. Bevins said gently. It is for the best.

hans vollman

Off you go, Mr. Vollman said. Nothing left for you here.

roger bevins iii

Goodbye then, the lad said.

Nothing scary about it, Mr. Bevins said. Perfectly natural.

hans vollman

Then it happened.

roger bevins iii

An extraordinary occurrence.

hans vollman

Unprecedented, really.

the reverend everly thomas

The boy’s gaze moved past us.

hans vollman

He seemed to catch sight of something beyond.

roger bevins iii

His face lit up with joy.

hans vollman

Father, he said.

the reverend everly thomas

XVI.

An exceedingly tall and unkempt fellow was making his way toward us through the darkness.

hans vollman

This was highly irregular. It was after hours; the front gate would be locked.

the reverend everly thomas

The boy had been delivered only that day. That is to say, the man had most likely been here—

roger bevins iii

Quite recently.

hans vollman

That afternoon.

roger bevins iii

Highly irregular.

the reverend everly thomas

The gentleman seemed lost. Several times he stopped, looked about, retraced his steps, reversed course.

hans vollman

He was softly sobbing.

roger bevins iii

He was not sobbing. My friend remembers incorrectly. He was winded. He did not sob.

hans vollman

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