By Richard Russo
Louis Charles Lynch (also referred to as Lucy) is sixty years previous and has lived in Thomaston, manhattan, his whole lifestyles. He and Sarah, his spouse of 40 years, are approximately to embark on a holiday to Italy. Lucy's oldest buddy, as soon as a rival for his wife's affection, leads a lifestyles in Venice a long way faraway from Thomaston. probably accordingly Lucy is writing the tale of his city, his kin, and his personal lifestyles that makes up this wealthy and captivating novel, interspersed with that of the local son who left see you later in the past and hasn't ever appeared back.Bridge of Sighs, from the loved Pulitzer Prize-winning writer of Empire Falls, is a relocating novel approximately small-town the United States that expands Russo's commonly heralded fulfillment in methods either prevalent and dazzling.
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Extra info for Bridge of Sighs (Vintage Contemporaries)
I HAVE SCANT MEMORY of the journey home. My vague conviction that I now lived in some kind of dream was borne out by the nightscape. The Cayoga, which had run clear that afternoon, was scarlet now, which meant the night shift at the tannery upstream had introduced a new dye batch. The moon, nearly full, had risen, and it made the churning water look like blood, and twice, despite my care, I lost my footing on the rocks and splashed into the stream. I’d imagined we’d come a very long way—maybe a mile—from the footbridge, but in no time there were lights high up on both sides of the embankment, and rounding a bend, I identified the largest of the dark, looming shapes as the back of our own apartment house, clifflike, with my own lighted bedroom window impossibly high up its black summit.
Balanced as I was on my railroad tie, even a gentle nudge would have sent me over the edge of the plywood and down onto the dark, jagged rocks below. Fearing that either a yes or a no might have equally disastrous consequences, I said maybe. I’d ask my parents. See if it was okay. Well, you see, that’s the thing, I was told. Theirs was a secret society whose first rule was that no parents must ever learn about all the good deeds they performed. So I’d have to decide myself and if I joined I’d be made to swear a solemn oath never to tell anyone.
Then do as you’re told. ” “You don’t boss me. ” “Too late,” the man said, and I heard the woman draw in her breath, then for a while there were just grunting, animal sounds. After that came a quiet so deep I wondered if they could hear me breathing. ” the woman finally said. ” “He’s not such a bad egg,” the man offered. ” “Try not being such a cunt every minute of the day and night. ” I heard her rise, come back over to the trunk again and start getting dressed. Over in the direction of the man, there was the sound of a cap screwing off a bottle.
Bridge of Sighs (Vintage Contemporaries) by Richard Russo