Category Archives: New Books Network Podcasts

D’Harlingue, Rebecca: The Lines Between Us

“It is more commonplace in story than in life that loved ones are witness to dying words that carry meaning or forgiveness. So it was with me, for though I heard my mother’s words, they served only to confound and injure.
“I am like Ana,” she had said. “I have failed Juliana.”
But I knew no Juliana, nor an Ana who had disappointed. I knew only that my mother had left me and would not now explain. In my profession I interpret others’ words within boundaries prescribed by a a meticulous author. That world is less than real, but there is no dire consequence for turning down a wrong path of understanding.”

Sparks, K.T. Four Dead Horses

“Martin Oliphant had always hated horses. Their staggering stupidity. Their unexplained, unexpected, and ever-explosive snorting. The way they twitched distinct patches of their skin to dislodge flies. The way they shied madly at the most innocuous occurrences: A golf umbrella at fifty feet; a leaf falling from, of all places, a tree; a bale of hay stacked exactly where it was supposed to be stacked and had been stacked for the last month. Martin Oliphant hated horses, but he didn’t, it must be said, wish horses dead. It must be said because horses died around him. Died or almost died….And it was horses, dead ones mostly, that blazed the trail to his life-forging passion. Horses brought Martin to cowboy poetry, and horses, live ones mostly, were cowboy poetry’s central theme.”

Moses, Jennifer: The Man Who Loved His Wife

“Three months after his aging daughter Rhonda gave him a one-year-old poodle-Lab-golden-retriever mix to keep as a pet, Felder came to believe that the dog — who looked at him mournfully whenever he went to the bathroom and waited for him by the door, as still as a statue, until he came out — was in fact none other than the reincarnation of his sister, Esther, may her name be a blessing. Esther, who was seven years his elder and his de facto mother, had been taken to Bergen-Belsen during the war and had never been heard from since.”

Rao, Veena: Purple Lotus

“It was almost dawn. A bird started to call from the church roof, and Tara could see the outlines of her apartment buildings opposite the road. It seemed like the beginning of just another day, but she had crossed a bridge that had collapsed after her. She sat spent, her tears dried up. She had to go back home, to her broken life; she had nowhere else to go. She pulled herself up and walked slowly out of the church compound. Her head throbbed with dull pain; the events of the night had triggered a migraine attack.”

Adams, Heather Bell: The Good Luck Stone

“Wearing the brooch was a risk, but surely no one would recognize it. Audrey Thorpe lingered by the wall in the lobby of Savannah’s Jepson Center for the Arts. Witers circulated with trys of champagne and bite-sied crab cakes while the museum’s donors mingled and congratulated themselves on another fine exhibition. Audrey leaned against a linen-skirted table for support and returned a friend’s wave across the crowd. At her age, the room’s pale stone floor was almost as treacherous as an ice rink.”

Gross, Max: The Lost Shtetl

“It was finally decided that Yankel Lewinkopf, the baker’s apprentice (who it happens was an orphan whom nobody would miss), should get on a horse and travel in the direction of Smolskie. Upon his arrival, he should find whatever official he could from the district and relate the whole case. As far as the elders of Kreskol were concerned, this might be too important not to get the gentile authorities involved.”

Sealy, Jon: The Merciful

“I know it well: the height of summer in the low country. The maddening swelter that in less civilized eras drove men to murder their wives and light out for the territories. Fortunately for the women of Overlook, those days were long gone. There were rules to abide by. The west had been tamed. There was nowhere for a man to go, which meant couples all over town had opened their Friday newspapers together to read about the hit and run, how the girl was riding her bicycle home from work when she was dragged a hundred feet down an unlit highway by an unknown motorist.”