Welcome to First Chapter, First Paragraph Tuesday Intros,
hosted by Diane @
Every Tuesday, each participant
shares the first paragraph
shares the first paragraph
(sometimes two) from a book
they're reading,
they're reading,
or thinking about reading.
The book I've picked this week is...
Mark Helprin
Hardcover, 673 pages
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
September 20, 1983
Contemporary Fiction, Literary Fiction,
Magic Realism, Romance
About the Book
New York City is subsumed in arctic winds, dark nights, and white lights, its life unfolds, for it is an extraordinary hive of the imagination, the greatest house ever built, and nothing exists that can check its vitality. One night in winter, Peter Lake, orphan and master-mechanic, attempts to rob a fortress-like mansion on the Upper West Side.
Though he thinks the house is empty, the daughter of the house is home. Thus begins the love between Peter Lake, a middle-aged Irish burglar, and Beverly Penn, a young girl, who is dying.
Peter Lake, a simple, uneducated man, because of a love that, at first he does not fully understand, is driven to stop time and bring back the dead. His great struggle, in a city ever alight with its own energy and besieged by unprecedented winters, is one of the most beautiful and extraordinary stories of American literature.
A White Horse Escapes
There was a white horse on a quiet winter morning when snow covered the streets gently and was not deep, and the sky was swept with vibrant stars, except in the east, where dawn was beginning in a light blue flood. The air was motionless, but would soon start to move as the sun came up and winds from Canada came charging down the Hudson.
The horse had escaped from his master's small clapboard stable in Brooklyn. He trotted alone over the carriage road of the Williamsburg Bridge, before the light, while the toll keeper was sleeping by his stove and many stars were still blazing above the city. Fresh snow on the bridge muffled his hoof beats, and he sometimes turned his head and looked behind him to see if he was being followed. He was warm from his own effort and he breathed steadily, having loped four or five miles through the dead of Brooklyn past silent churches and shuttered stores. Far to the south, in the black, ice-choked waters of the Narrows, a sparkling light marked the ferry on its way to Manhattan, where only market men were up, waiting for the fishing boats to glide down through Hell Gate and the night.
The horse had escaped from his master's small clapboard stable in Brooklyn. He trotted alone over the carriage road of the Williamsburg Bridge, before the light, while the toll keeper was sleeping by his stove and many stars were still blazing above the city. Fresh snow on the bridge muffled his hoof beats, and he sometimes turned his head and looked behind him to see if he was being followed. He was warm from his own effort and he breathed steadily, having loped four or five miles through the dead of Brooklyn past silent churches and shuttered stores. Far to the south, in the black, ice-choked waters of the Narrows, a sparkling light marked the ferry on its way to Manhattan, where only market men were up, waiting for the fishing boats to glide down through Hell Gate and the night.
This is yet another novel
I've owned for years, and have
yet to read! And with such
a GORGEOUS cover, too!
I ADORE horses, and the color blue!!
I love the vivid, poetic prose,
so I think I'll be picking
this one up very soon!
(After I mentally kick myself
for not doing so, all this time.)
From what I've posted above,
would you say that
I should keep reading?
I've owned for years, and have
yet to read! And with such
a GORGEOUS cover, too!
I ADORE horses, and the color blue!!
I love the vivid, poetic prose,
so I think I'll be picking
this one up very soon!
(After I mentally kick myself
for not doing so, all this time.)
From what I've posted above,
would you say that
I should keep reading?