It is, finally, our indulgence in a book called Crossroads by Jonathan Franzen, following backstory and run-up to the Hildebrandt family’s major catastrophes present day, 1971. Crossroads is a novel written in two sections. In the ‘Advent,’ section first, the workings of Russ Hildebrandt’s passion …
1. As Julixa was frying an egg for lunch, she had a vision: Torches flickered in her peripheral, the ground dropped away on all sides like stairs on a pyramid. Hands flew up to her face. In them, a halved coconut. Filled with blood. There …
“You say your name is Baltimore, huh?” She nodded, once. The barrel of his gun, staring at her, intently. “Well, what kind of a name is that?” “Not my real one.” She mumbled. “What?” “Baltimore is not my real name.” “Well, what’s your name then, …
The cello case was old. Its black lacquered wood, once polished to a shine, was now dulled by dozens of scratches and scuffs. Frayed duct tape covered a long split along its front. A weathered leather strap was wrapped around it like a belt. It …
When I was a child I knew a wonderful truth: there was only one red-breasted robin in the world, his name was Jack, and we shared a quiet friendship. When I woke up in the morning and looked out the window, Jack peered back from …