St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves (Vintage Contemporaries)

St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves (Vintage Contemporaries)

Karen Russell

Language: English

Pages: 256

ISBN: 0307276678

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves (Vintage Contemporaries)

Karen Russell

Language: English

Pages: 256

ISBN: 0307276678

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


A San Francisco Chronicle, Los Angeles Times, and Chicago Tribune Best Book of the Year

In these ten glittering stories, debut author Karen Russell takes us to the ghostly and magical swamps of the Florida Everglades. Here wolf-like girls are reformed by nuns, a family makes their living wrestling alligators in a theme park, and little girls sail away on crab shells. Filled with stunning inventiveness and heart, St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves introduces a radiant new writer.

Alpha's Tale (Survivors, Book 0.1)

Horse of a Different Color

The Size of the World: A Novel

Dubliners

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a jaguar bite. Also, she is in love. During her love spells, she rolls me off her shoulders with a mindless ox-twitch, and steps right over me. What is she going to do with Luscious? I wonder. What does she do out there with Luscious for hours every night? I’m more fearful than curious, and now she is waist-deep in the saw grass, an opal speck shrinking into the marsh. At odd intervals, rumbling above the insect drone, I hear one of the wild gators bellow. For a monster, it’s a strangely

you would expect to find a human settlement, there was nothing but a green vacuity. Unflattened Pasture! the caption read. Free for the takers! “Can you imagine, Asterion?” My mother smiled like a girl, letting her finger drowse over the page. “All that land, and no people.” You could tell that even my mother, in spite of her sallow practicality, was charmed by the idea. Easy winters, canyon springs. No one to tell the old stories about her husband, or to poke fun at his graying, woolly bull

floods—these are the occasions to find out how your father sees you, how strong and necessary he thinks you are. As it turns out, I am still just a buff-colored calf to Dad. I watched the older sons and brothers leaping off of the wagon tongues all around me, a shoeless stampede. There went Clem, in a peppery cloud of dust. There went Obadiah, eager to assist. But none of the fathers called me out of the wagon, least of all my own. I huddled with my mother, nuzzling into her neck, while the men

terrible look. As if she had just stumbled on a set of her own footprints in the snow, and realized that she was lost. “Well! It’s a good story, anyways! Let’s get ya cleaned up, huh!” Lady Yeti beat the wet flakes out of the woman’s hair. “You better sit this one out….” We followed the snow-drunk woman into the bathroom. They even had flurries going in the bathroom, a phony violet-blue, piped in through the high vents. Somebody—my pops?—had rigged up the hand dryers to spew translucence. It

purple and clobbered with stars. Lightning licks the palm fronds. The whole conch hums with the promise of rain. At first, Big Red is just pretending to be trapped. It isn’t until she tries to get out of the Giant Conch that she realizes she really is stuck. She can belly-crawl back down the spine of the shell, no problemo. But when she tries to pull herself onto the calcite ledge that angles up and out of the siphon, she keeps sliding back down. The opening of the Giant Conch seems to have

Download sample

Download