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Scar Lover is a miraculous, true-to-the-bone story of love and redemption, at once a classic southern novel and purely, unmistakably, Harry Crews.
Running from a past that has scarred and blamed him, and a tragic accident that has destroyed his family, Pete Butcher avoids all personal contact. Then Sarah Leemer, the oddly beautiful girl next door, walks into his life. Slowly, sweetly, and with a determination almost Faulknerian in its ferocity, Sarah pulls Pete back into life and into the ever increasing complications of love, family, death, and deliverance. For Sarah has made Pete her own, and as she takes her claim, we see the miraculous power of love without boundaries or fear.
out here in the middle of the bridge. For God’s sake, Sarah.” “You’ll have to help me. I’m sick on my stomach.” He walked back to stand beside her and she put her arm around his shoulder. He took her hand and they started slowly off toward the end of the bridge, she sagging against him. Her face had been flushed red but now was leached to the color of salt. Her drooping eyelids had turned black. He tried to quicken the pace but she resisted. It scared Pete. What if she dropped dead out here on
to be done, that will be done, is right in here. He didn’t hold with leaving nothing to chance,” said Mrs. Leemer. “Pete and every last one of us was only trying to protect you, Mama,” Sarah said. “Protect me from what?” demanded her mother. “You’ve been sick and we—” “Don’t you think I know I’ve been sick, goddammit. I’m missing a little something up front here to remind me in case I forget.” “We was trying to do what was best for you,” Pete said. “That’s true,” said Mr. Winekoff. “They
willing to risk being caught in them. Thank God for his brain, or his cock would have killed him a hundred times over by now. “She some more strong, mon,” said George to Pete. “Linga hab much mon in her.” Linga glanced briefly at George, her smile going ugly in a snarling kind of way, and then back to Pete, where she held his gaze with her eyes—eyes that were now clearly showing a kind of fierce anger. But she said nothing. Has much man in her. Is that what George had said? Whatever, Pete was
“They cut my tits off, not my arms and legs. I’ve always been strong when it was any need for me to be strong. This is the last thing I can do for Henry and I mean to do it right. He could be a son of a bitch at times—who can’t?—and he rubbed me the wrong way more than he had to… .” She stopped for a moment and stared back to where Henry lay covered with the sheet on the door, her brow drawn in upon itself, and she seemed to be in deep thought. “By God, now that he is lying over there dead and I
thought, looking directly at him. Pete knew it had to be his imagination, or perhaps his terror, or maybe only his most profound hope for the future, but he felt the skull knew and approved what had passed between Sarah and him even while its flesh was making the final passage to the place where all flesh must end. There was a curious pleasure and elation rising in his chest. He did not for an instant question that the dead knew what the living did not know, could not know. This impossibility