Last Night in Twisted River: A Novel by John Irving

By John Irving

In 1954, within the ship's galley of a logging and sawmill cost in northern New Hampshire, an frightened twelve-year-old boy errors the neighborhood constable’s female friend for a endure. either the twelve-year-old and his father turn into fugitives, compelled to run from Coos County–to Boston, to southern Vermont, to Toronto–pursued through the implacable constable. Their lone protector is a fiercely libertarian logger, as soon as a river driving force, who befriends them.

In a narrative spanning 5 a long time, Last evening in Twisted River–John Irving’s 12th novel–depicts the new half-century within the usa as “a residing copy of Coos County, the place deadly hatreds have been typically accredited to run their course.” From the novel’s taut starting sentence–“The younger Canadian, who couldn't were greater than fifteen, had hesitated too long”–to its elegiac ultimate bankruptcy, Last evening in Twisted River is written with the ancient authenticity and emotional authority of The Cider condominium Rules and A Prayer for Owen Meany. it's also as violent and aggravating a narrative as John Irving’s step forward bestseller, The international in accordance with Garp.

What extra distinguishes Last evening in Twisted River is the author’s unmistakable voice–the inimitable voice of an complete storyteller. close to the top of this relocating novel, John Irving writes: “We don’t continuously have a call how we get to understand each other. occasionally, humans fall into our lives cleanly–as if out of the sky, or as though there have been a right away flight from Heaven to Earth–the comparable unexpected means we lose humans, who as soon as appeared they might regularly be a part of our lives.”

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Additional info for Last Night in Twisted River: A Novel

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I shall leave you the name of my bank in Switzerland. When they tell me the first two hundred and fifty thousand dollars has been deposited, or when I am fully ready, whichever is the later, I shall move. I will not be hurried beyond my own judgement, nor will I be subject to interference. » «D'accord. But our undercover men in France are in a position to offer you considerable assistance in the way of information. » The Englishman considered this for a moment. «All right, when you are ready send me by mail a single telephone number, preferably in Paris so that I can ring that number direct from anywhere in France.

At the top he paused and glanced down the only corridor available. At the far end was room 68. He counted back down the corridor to what must be AA although the figures were out of sight. Between himself and the door of 64 was twenty feet of corridor, the walls being studded on the right by two other doors before 64, and on the left a small alcove partially curtained with red velours hanging from a cheap brass rod. He studied the alcove carefully. From beneath the curtain, which cleared the floor by four inches, the toe of a single black shoe urged slightly.

Whatever thoughts did go on behind the smoke-screen, nothing came through, and Rodin felt a worm of unease. Like all men created by systems and procedures, he did not like the unpredictable and therefore the uncontrollable. «We know who you are,» he began abruptly. «I had better introduce myself. » «I know,» said the Englishman, «you are chief of operations of the OAS. » He stared at each of the men in turn as he spoke, and reached for a cigarette. «You seem to know a lot already,» interjected Casson as the three watched the visitor light up.

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