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Lädt ... The Old Gray Homesteadvon Frances Parkinson Keyes
Keine Lädt ...
Melde dich bei LibraryThing an um herauszufinden, ob du dieses Buch mögen würdest. Keine aktuelle Diskussion zu diesem Buch. The Old Gray Homestead doesn't have the extensive notes on F.P. Keyes's creative process and on-site research that I have come to expect from her books. It's her first book (1919) -- very well written, set in Vermont, drawing upon her life experience of 30-some years, 15 in rural New England. It reminds me of something by Gene Stratton Porter -- a poor farm boy / rich girl romance similar to Laddie, A True Blue Story but thankfully lacking the self-conscious whimsy of the latter; Austin calls his lady by her name, Laddie refers to "the Princess" until ... well. Far too often. Perhaps it's more like something by L. M. Montgomery. Keyes's characters would be at home and welcomed in Avonlea. My personal favourite minor character is a gossipy old lady by the name of Mrs Elliott, who sometimes had me laughing out loud. Here she is on the phone: '"Yes, this is Mrs Elliot -- Maybe if some of the folks on the line that's taken their receivers down so's they can know who I'm talkin' to an' what I'm sayin' will hang up, you can hear me a little more plain." (This timely remark resulted in several little clicks.)' ( ) keine Rezensionen | Rezension hinzufügen
Classic Literature.
Fiction.
HTML:From the book: "For Heaven's sake, Sally, don't say, 'Isn't it hot?' or, 'Did you ever know such weather for April?' or, 'Doesn't it seem as if the mud was just as bad as it used to be before we had the State Road?' again. It is hot. I never did see such weather. The mud is worse if anything. I've said all this several times, and if you can't think of anything more interesting to talk about, I wish you'd keep still." Sally Gray pushed back the lock of crinkly brown hair that was always getting in her eyes, puckered her lips a little, and glanced at her brother Austin without replying, but with a slight ripple of concern disturbing her usual calm. She was plain and plump and placid, as sweet and wholesome as clover, and as nerveless as a cow, and she secretly envied her brother's lean, dark handsomeness; but she was conscious of a little pang of regret that the young, eager face beside her was already becoming furrowed with lines of discontent and bitterness, and that the expression of the fine mouth was rapidly growing more and more hard and sullen. Austin had been all the way from Hamstead to White Water that day, stopping on his way back at Wallacetown, to bring Sally, who taught school there, home for over Sunday; his little old horse, never either strong or swift, was tired and hot and muddy, and hung its unkempt head dejectedly, apparently having lost all willingness to drag the dilapidated top-buggy and its two occupants another step. Austin's manner, Sally reflected, was not much more cheerful than that of his horse; while his clothes were certainly as dirty, as shabby, and as out-of-date as the rest of his equipage. Keine Bibliotheksbeschreibungen gefunden. |
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