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  • Format: ePub

Joe Burke is 50 and doesn't know what to do with the rest of his life. His daughter, Kate, by a first marriage, is doing well; his second marriage has ended in a friendly divorce. He is handsome, capable, and energetic, the kind of person who sees more clearly and is happier in motion. He puts clothes, tools, and a few boxes in his truck and leaves Maine hoping to sort things out on the road.
An attractive stranger tempts him to stay in Brattleboro, Vermont, but he continues to Woodstock, N.Y., where he grew up. He leaves boxes with his old friend, Morgan, and drives across the country. In
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Produktbeschreibung
Joe Burke is 50 and doesn't know what to do with the rest of his life. His daughter, Kate, by a first marriage, is doing well; his second marriage has ended in a friendly divorce. He is handsome, capable, and energetic, the kind of person who sees more clearly and is happier in motion. He puts clothes, tools, and a few boxes in his truck and leaves Maine hoping to sort things out on the road.
An attractive stranger tempts him to stay in Brattleboro, Vermont, but he continues to Woodstock, N.Y., where he grew up. He leaves boxes with his old friend, Morgan, and drives across the country. In Seattle, he visits Kate and gives her a painting from his father, an artist retired in Maine. He meets an interesting woman, Mo, in the Elliot Bay Book Company and decides to leave his truck with Kate and fly to Hawaii where he once lived.
Joe stays in Hawaii for the next few years, returning to the mainland for Kate's wedding in the San Juan Islands, and, later, flying to Maine when his father dies unexpectedly. Mo turns up. They begin a friendship. Morgan visits, as does Max, Joe's stepson from his second marriage. Joe falls in and out of a relationship with a conservative Christian. A nineteen year old, Rhiannon, tries to draw Joe scribbling in notebooks in a cafe that they both habituate. They become friends.
A true love from Joe's earliest adult days comes to Honolulu after the death of her husband. Their meeting brings into focus what Joe has learned since leaving Maine. He understands how he will make his last stand.
The novel is well written. The people are convincing, and the places are very real. It is a breakout book for the author who had previously published several collections of poetry. First novels offer the special pleasure of feeling the author finding his or her voice, gaining confidence on the way to the resolution of the need that impelled the story. Between the lines, this is an account of an artist's birth, a celebration of trusting life and confronting the unknown.


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Autorenporträt
Born in Greenwich Village, New York City, but raised, mostly, by my grandparents in Woodstock, a small town in the Catskill mountains. Midway through sophomore year at Hamilton College, an inner voice said, "Get out!" It seemed crazy, but I knew it was the right thing to do. A fraternity brother told me I'd have no trouble finding work on the shrimp boats in Key West.

A friend and I hitchhiked south. Near the New Jersey line we got a ride with another young guy, Pete. "Where you headed?"

"Florida."

"Me, too." He told us that he'd gotten up before dawn in a small Vermont town, thrown clothes and a baseball glove in the trunk, left a note on his girlfriend's porch, and taken off. We rocked on down the coast, listening to Brenda Lee, getting warmer each day.

I left my friends near Miami and went on to Key West. When I got there, I walked to the harbor and asked for a job on the first boat I found that had anyone on board. The captain said, "Shrimp season's over, kid." I think he felt sorry for me. He pointed to a rusty shrimper across the water. "He might take you."

I picked up my bag and ran around to the other jetty, arriving just as the boat began to pull away. A man on deck was doing something with a cable. He wore a sweatshirt and had a two-day growth. "I'm looking for work," I shouted over the engine.

"You a winch man?"

The winch occupied a large part of the deck, a complicated assembly of giant gears and levers. The strip of water below my feet widened. It was jump or forget it. I had a vision of winching the boat upside down in the Gulf. I shook my head and walked to the Southern Cross Hotel, a wooden building with white peeling paint and a sign declaring, The Southernmost Hotel in the United States.

I wrote it down in a notebook and have been writing ever since. Along the way I served in the Air Force, earned a degree in computer science from the University of Hawaii, married twice, and raised children. The adventures, the loves and betrayals, the teachers, the lessons---they are in my stories and poems, where, like all writers, I have tried to make of my deeper bio something worthwhile.