Excerpt from The Lion Trees
In the beginning, when all he seemed to know of himself was what he did not have and what he wanted out of life, it was excruciating. It was excruciating to see her, to touch her shoulder, to hold her hand, tell jokes to her, dance with her, sing with her, to court her in earnest as though he were applying for a lifetime appointment, to bring her back in the evening, to bring her back here, to Engleman Hall, to kiss her goodnight, and yet, to not quite have her. Excruciating. Like his heart was made of paper. Excruciating.
For all our successes and triumphs, he thought, it is the wanting, it is the desperate longing for that which is not quite ours, the times in our lives when triumph eludes us, flirting with our very composure, that we seem to remember ourselves most vividly. With time, that torture becomes treasure; the excruciating becomes exquisite, and we would sever whole limbs if only to experience that agony again. It is yearning, not having, that is the essence of living. All success, all triumph, all acquisition, is ultimately self-defeating. It all dies on the mantel. We only really live in the yearning.
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U.S. Review of Books
“A sweeping literary saga in the traditional ‘Dr. Zhivago’, ‘Gone with the Wind’, and ‘The Thorn Birds’, this book has it all… original and stirring…”
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“[A] cerebral page turner…a powerful and promising debut.”
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“[A] great, original novel, full of characters so authentic and engaging that you begin to miss them even as you finish the final page.”
Mariel Hemingway
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