Lincoln in the Bardo : A Novel
-- Lincoln in the Bardo 'A luminous feat of generosity and humanism.''Colson Whitehead, The 'A masterpiece.''Zadie Smith
Other Formats
Browse Related Items
Genre |
Electronic books. |
- ISBN: 9780812995350
-
Physical Description
remote
1 online resource
368 pages - Publisher [Place of publication not identified] : Random House Publishing Group, 2017.
Content descriptions
General Note: | Electronic book. GMD: electronic resource. |
Reproduction Note: | Electronic reproduction. [S.l.] Random House Publishing Group 2017 Available via World Wide Web. |
System Details Note: | Format: Adobe EPUB Requires: cloudLibrary (file size: 3.8 MB) |
Additional Information
Lincoln in the Bardo : A Novel
Click an element below to view details:
Excerpt
Lincoln in the Bardo : A Novel
 XXI.  Mouth at the worm's ear, Father said: We have loved each other well, dear Willie, but now, for reasons we cannot understand, that bond has been broken. But our bond can never be broken. As long as I live, you will always be with me, child. Then let out a sob Dear Father crying   That was hard to see   And no matter how I patted & kissed & made to console, it did no You were a joy, he said. Please know that. Know that you were a joy. To us. Every minute, every season, you were a--you did a good job. A good job of being a pleasure to know. Saying all this to the worm!   How I wished him to say it to me   And to feel his eyes on me   So I thought, all right, by Jim, I will get him to see me And in I went It was no bother at all   Say, it felt all right  Like I somewhat belonged in In there, held so tight, I was now partly also in Father And could know exactly what he was Could feel the way his long legs lay   How it is to have a beard    Taste coffee in the mouth and, though not thinking in words exactly, knew that the feel of him in my arms has done me good. It has. Is this wrong? Unholy? No, no, he is mine, he is ours, and therefore I must be, in that sense, a god in this; where he is concerned I may decide what is best. And I believe this has done me good. I remember him. Again. Who he was. I had forgotten some- what already. But here: his exact proportions, his suit smelling of him still, his forelock between my fingers, the heft of him familiar from when he would fall asleep in the parlor and I would carry him up to-- It has done me good. I believe it has. It is secret. A bit of secret weakness, that shores me up; in shoring me up, it makes it more likely that I shall do my duty in other matters; it hastens the end of this period of weakness; it harms no one; therefore, it is not wrong, and I shall take away from here this resolve: I may return as often as I like, telling no one, accepting whatever help it may bring me, until it helps me no more. Then Father touched his head to mine. Dear boy, he said, I will come again. That is a promise. willie lincoln Excerpted from Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.