Oola

Oola
Авторы книги: id книги: 2894403     Оценка: 0.0     Голосов: 0     Отзывы, комментарии: 0 896,15 руб.     (8,9$) Читать книгу Купить и скачать книгу Купить бумажную книгу Электронная книга Жанр: Правообладатель и/или издательство: HarperCollins Дата добавления в каталог КнигаЛит: ISBN: 9780008209803 Скачать фрагмент в формате   fb2   fb2.zip Возрастное ограничение: 0+ Оглавление Отрывок из книги

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Описание книги

‘It's the kind of book you want to linger in and never leave; the kind of book that DOES things to you . . . I adored it’ Emma Jane Unsworth, author of AnimalsOOLA is a very different kind of love story.Oola and Leif meet at a party in East London, two Americans at a loose end. The insouciant music school dropout and aimless young writer fix on one another, grab hands and fall head-first down love’s rabbit hole.Leif’s summer plans soon become Oola’s too and the pair find themselves mansion-sitting their way across the States, drinking the liquor cabinets dry and emptying the walk-in wardrobes to play dress-up. But when they decide to play house in a Big Sur cabin, where the clapboards quiver in the heat, boredom breeds an idea that could extinguish their love and even destroy them both.This is a love story like no other. A savagely brilliant exploration of what it is to adore, own and inhabit your beloved. OOLA takes you to the line and shows you how to cross it.From an electrifying new voice, this astonishing debut is as juicy and provocative as it is beautiful.

Оглавление

Brittany Newell. Oola

Copyright

Dedication

X

Beach House

London

Arizona

On the Road

Big Sur

Public Pool

Nude Beach

Bad Days

Day Trip

Super 8

The Clinic

Homeward Bound

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

About the Author

About the Publisher

Отрывок из книги

To my rats and my worm: forever, my love

Title Page

.....

It’s impossible, of course, to wholly return to that first impression, even as I recall the heat and clamor of the party with frightening veracity, the love songs on the stereo, how dashing Tay looked all in black. Too many associations clog the path to that first, virgin instance, to the unassuming tingle I felt when I caught sight of her shoulder blades. I can’t think about her shoulders, clothed or bare, without a thousand other moments in which they played a part surging to the forefront—a memory of her playing piano (Saint-Saëns) in a beige lace bra battles for precedence. I can’t be sure of what I really thought of her in those first few seconds, because I would have to empty my mind of all things Oola to get back to that stage, and to do so now, after all that we’ve been through and all the time that I’ve spent, would be virtually suicidal. All I know for certain of that moment is that I was surprised to see her walking toward me, this tall, tall girl, and as she neared, I did my best to stand up straight.

“What’s up?” she said.

.....

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