Sarah Dessen: This Lullaby

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Sarah Dessen: This Lullaby» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. категория: Современная проза / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

Sarah Dessen This Lullaby
  • Название:
    This Lullaby
  • Автор:
  • Жанр:
    Современная проза / на английском языке
  • Язык:
    Английский
  • Рейтинг книги:
    3 / 5
  • Ваша оценка:
    • 60
    • 1
    • 2
    • 3
    • 4
    • 5
  • Избранное:
    Добавить книгу в закладки

This Lullaby: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «This Lullaby»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

"I had no illusions about love… It came, it went, it left casualties or it didn't. People weren't meant to be together forever, regardless of what the songs say." Remy doesn't believe in love. And why should she? Her romance novelist mother is working on her fifth marriage, and her father, a '70s hippie singer, left her with only a one-hit wonder song to remember him by. Every time Remy hears "This Lullaby," it feels like "a bruise that never quite healed right." "Wherever you may go / I will let you down / But this lullaby plays on…" Never without a boyfriend, Remy is a compulsive dater, but before a guy can go all "Ken" on her (as in "ultra boyfriend behavior") she cuts him off, without ever getting close or getting hurt. That's why she's stunned when klutzy, quirky, alterna-band boy Dexter inserts himself into her life and refuses to leave. Remy's been accepted to Stanford, and she plans on having her usual summer fling before tying up the loose ends of her pre-college life and heading for the coast. Except Dexter's not following Remy's tried-and-true rules of break-up protocol. And for the first time, Remy's questioning whether or not she wants him to. Author Sarah Dessen's ability to write novels that are both crowd pleasers and literary masterpieces of YA fiction is showcased beautifully in This Lullaby. Subtle yet completely absorbing, Lullaby is peopled with breathtakingly believable, three-dimensional characters, the very best of which is the bitter, broken Remy herself. An original love story about learning to love yourself first. *** This modern-day romance narrated by a cynical heroine offers a balance of wickedly funny moments and universal teen traumas. High school graduate Remy has some biting commentary about love, including her romance-writer mother's betrothal to a car dealer ("He put one hand on my shoulder, Dad-style, and I tried not to remember all the stepfathers before him that had done the same thing… They all thought they were permanent, too") and her brother's infatuation with self-improvement guru Jennifer Anne. But when rocker Dexter "crashes" into her life, her resolve to remain unattached starts to crack. Readers will need to hold on to their hats as they accompany Remy on her whirlwind ride, avoiding, circling and finally surrendering to Cupid's arrows. Almost as memorable as her summer romance with a heartwarmingly flawed suitor is the cast of idiosyncratic characters who watch from the sidelines. There's the trio of Remy's faithful girlfriends, all addicted to "Xtra Large Zip" Diet Cokes practical-minded Jess, weepy Lissa, and Chloe, who shares Remy's dark sense of humor as well as Dexter's entourage of fellow band members, as incompetent at managing money as they are at keeping their rental house clean. Those expecting a Cinderella finale for Remy will find a twist consistent with the plot's development. Contrary to any such implication in the title, this one will keep teens up reading. Ages 12-up.

Sarah Dessen: другие книги автора


Кто написал This Lullaby? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

This Lullaby — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система автоматического сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «This Lullaby», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Не бойтесь закрыть страницу, как только Вы зайдёте на неё снова — увидите то же место, на котором закончили чтение.

Sarah Dessen


This Lullaby

In the depth of winter,

I finally learned that

within me there lay

an invincible summer.

– Camus

She’ll be back soon.

She’s just writing.

– Caroline


June

Chapter One

The name of the song is “This Lullaby.” At this point, I’ve probably heard it, oh, about a million times. Approximately.

All my life I’ve been told about how my father wrote it the day I was born. He was on the road somewhere in Texas, already split from my mom. The story goes that he got word of my birth, sat down with his guitar, and just came up with it, right there in a room at a Motel 6. An hour of his time, just a few chords, two verses and a chorus. He’d been writing music all his life, but in the end it would be the only song he was known for. Even in death, my father was a one-hit wonder. Or two, I guess, if you count me.

Now, the song was playing overhead as I sat in a plastic chair at the car dealership, in the first week of June. It was warm, everything was blooming, and summer was practically here. Which meant, of course, that it was time for my mother to get married again.

This was her fourth time, fifth if you include my father. I chose not to. But they were, in her eyes, married-if being united in the middle of the desert by someone they’d met at a rest stop only moments before counts as married. It does to my mother. But then, she takes on husbands the way other people change their hair color: out of boredom, listlessness, or just feeling that this next one will fix everything, once and for all. Back when I was younger, when I asked about my dad and how they’d met, when I was actually still curious, she’d just sigh, waving her hand, and say, “Oh, Remy, it was the seventies. You know.”

My mother always thinks I know everything. But she’s wrong. All I knew about the seventies was what I’d learned in school and from the History Channel: Vietnam, President Carter, disco. And all I knew about my father, really, was “This Lullaby.” Through my life I’d heard it in the backgrounds of commercials and movies, at weddings, dedicated long-distance on radio countdowns. My father may be gone, but the song-schmaltzy, stupid, insipid-goes on. Eventually it will even outlive me.

It was in the middle of the second chorus that Don Davis of Don Davis Motors stuck his head out of his office and saw me. “Remy, honey, sorry you had to wait. Come on in.”

I got up and followed him. In eight days, Don would become my stepfather, joining a not-so-exclusive group. He was the first car salesman, the second Gemini, the only one with money of his own. He and my mother met right there in his office, when we came in to buy her a new Camry. I’d come along because I know my mother: she’d pay the list price right off the bat, assuming it was set, like she was buying oranges or toilet paper at the grocery store, and of course they’d let her, because my mother is somewhat well known and everyone thinks she is rich.

Our first salesman looked right out of college and almost collapsed when my mother waltzed up to a fully loaded new-year model, then poked her head inside to get a whiff of that new-car smell. She took a deep gulp, smiled, and announced, “I’ll take it!” with characteristic flourish.

“Mom,” I said, trying not to grit my teeth. But she knew better. The entire ride over I’d been prepping her, with specific instructions on what to say, how to act, everything we needed to do to get a good deal. She kept telling me she was listening, even as she kept fiddling with the air-conditioning vents and playing with my automatic windows. I swear that was what had really led to this new-car fever: the fact that I had just gotten one.

So after she’d blown it, it was up to me to take over. I started asking the salesman direct questions, which made him nervous. He kept glancing past me, at her, as if I was some kind of trained attack dog she could easily put into a sit. I’m used to this. But just as he really started to squirm we were interrupted by Don Davis himself, who made quick work of sweeping us into his office and falling hard for my mother in a matter of about fifteen minutes. They sat there making googly eyes at each other while I haggled him down three thousand bucks and got him to throw in a maintenance plan, a sealant coat, and a changer for the CD player. It had to be the best bargain in Toyota history, not that anyone noticed. It is just expected that I will handle it, whatever it is, because I am my mother’s business manager, therapist, handyman, and now, wedding coordinator. Lucky, lucky, me.

“So, Remy,” Don said as we sat down, him in the big swiveling leather throne behind the desk, me in the just-uncomfortable-enough-to-hurry-the-sale chair opposite. Everything at the dealership was manufactured to brainwash customers. Like memos to salesmen encouraging great deals just casually “strewn” where you could read them, and the way the offices were set up so you could easily “overhear” your salesman pleading for a good deal with his manager. Plus the fact that the window I was now facing opened up to the part of the lot where people picked up their brand-new cars. Every few minutes, one of the salesmen would walk someone right to the center of the window, hand them their shiny new keys, and then smile benevolently as they drove off into the sunset, just like in the commercials. What a bunch of shit.

Now, Don shifted in his seat, adjusting his tie. He was a portly guy, with an ample stomach and a bit of a bald spot: the word doughy came to mind. But he adored my mother, God help him. “What do you need from me today?”

“Okay,” I said, reaching into my back pocket for the list I’d brought. “I double-checked with the tux place and they’re expecting you this week for the final fitting. The rehearsal dinner list is pretty much set at seventy-five, and the caterer will need a check for the rest of the deposit by Monday.”

“Fine.” He opened a drawer and pulled out the leather binder where he kept his checkbook, then reached into his jacket pocket for a pen. “How much for the caterer?”

I glanced down at my paper, swallowed, and said, “Five thousand.”

He nodded and started writing. To Don, five thousand bucks was hardly any money at all. This wedding itself was setting him back a good twenty, and that didn’t seem to faze him either. Add to it the renovation that had been done on our house so we could all live together like one happy family, the debt Don was forgiving on my brother’s truck, and just the day-to-day maintenance of living with my mother, and he was making quite an investment. But then again, this was his first wedding, first marriage. He was a rookie. My family, however, had long been of pro status.

He ripped out the check, slid it across the desk, and smiled. “What else?” he asked me.

I consulted my list again. “Okay, just the band, I think. The people at the reception hall were asking-”

“It’s under control,” he said, waving his hand. “They’ll be there. Tell your mother not to worry.”

I smiled at this, because he expected me to, but we both knew she wasn’t worrying at all about this wedding. She’d picked out her dress, decided on flowers, and then pushed the rest off on me, claiming she needed absolutely every free second to work on her latest book. But the truth was, my mother hated details. She loved to plunge into projects, tackle them for about ten minutes, and then lose interest. All around our house were little piles of things that had once held her attention: aromatherapy kits, family tree software, stacks of Japanese cookbooks, an aquarium with four sides covered in algae and one sole survivor, a fat white fish who had eaten all the others.

Читать дальше

Похожие книги на «This Lullaby»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «This Lullaby» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Jess Walter: The Zero
The Zero
Jess Walter
Thomas Sniegoski: Where Angels Fear to Tread
Where Angels Fear to Tread
Thomas Sniegoski
Katy Evans: Remy
Remy
Katy Evans
Carole Remy: Twelve Nights
Twelve Nights
Carole Remy
Shane Jones: Crystal Eaters
Crystal Eaters
Shane Jones
Отзывы о книге «This Lullaby»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «This Lullaby» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.