An Orange Prize Finalist
A Man Booker Prize Nominee
Winner of the 2009 Betty Trask Prize
A Guardian First Book Award Nominee
Jake is in the tailspin of old age. His wife has passed away, his son is in prison, and now he is about to lose his past to Alzheimer’s. As the disease takes hold of him, Jake’s memories become increasingly unreliable. What happened to his daughter? Is she alive, or long dead? Why is his son imprisoned? And why can’t he shake the memory of a yellow dress and one lonely, echoing gunshot?
Like Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead, The Wilderness holds us in its grip from the first sentence to the last with the sheer beauty of its language and its ruminations on love and loss.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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|Title of eBook: The Wilderness|
|Release Date: 02-17-2009|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Doubleday Publishing|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||The Wilderness|
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|Note||ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it.|
In amongst a sea of events and names that have been forgotten, there are a number of episodes that float with striking buoyancy to the surface. There is no sensible order to them, nor connection between them. He keeps his eye on the ground below him, strange since once he would have turned his attention to the horizon or the sky above, relishing the sheer size of it all. Now he seeks out miniatures with the hope of finding comfort in them: the buildings three thousand feet below, the moors so black and flat that they defy perspective, the prison and grounds, men running in ellipses around a track, the stain of suburbia.
The pilot shouts something and points to the right. In the distance a wood is being felled and they can see a tree lean and crash, then another, like matches.
"Surreal from here!" the pilot shouts.
"Yes," he replies. "Quail Woods. Falling."
He leans forward and touches the shoulder of the pilot without knowing what he means by the gesture. A sense of grounding perhaps--he wishes to be back on the ground, and feels nauseous, and a little afraid. In any case the pilot must mistake his hand for a flapping neck scarf or even a bird gone off course, because he doesn't turn.
"My son!" he shouts. "Down there, in the prison!"
The pilot nods and puts his thumb up; maybe he has not understood.
"I built that prison, the new part, back in the sixties," he calls into the wind.
"Yes," the pilot returns. "It's awful, I agree. Blight on the landscape."
He leans as far out as he dare. Can he see his son? Can they see each other? He eyes with dim envy the mechanical, ...