September 5, 2009
Henry Bech, a writer whose first book was his best, whose “reputation had grown while his powers declined. As he felt himself sink, in his fiction, deeper and deeper into eclectic sexuality and bravura narcissism, as his search for plain truth carried him further and further into treacherous realms of fantasy and, lately, of silence, he was more and more thickly hounded by homage …
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September 3, 2009
This is a thrilling story about a ritual handed down for generations. June 27th arrives and the townsfolk gather in the town square; men, women and children. Jackson paints a detailed picture of the nonchalant attitude of the citizenry. Everyone had things to do, so they wanted the whole affair speeded up. Few clues were given. Just the gathering of stones by the children before everyone took their positions for the rite.
Poor Tessie Hutchinson.
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