We Were the Mulvaneys

We Were the Mulvaneys
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Joyce Carol Oates. We Were the Mulvaneys

JOYCE CAROL OATES. We Were the Mulvaneys

COPYRIGHT

PRAISE

DEDICATION

EPIGRAPH

CONTENTS

STORYBOOK HOUSE

THE DOE

ST. VALENTINE’S 1976

RINGING THE COWBELL

FAMILY CODE

DIRTY GIRL

PROVIDENCE

STRAWBERRIES & CREAM

SECRETS

THE REVELATION

BABIES

DAMAGED GIRL

THE LOVERS

IMMINENT MORTALITY

EVERY HEARTBEAT!

THE ASSAULT

THE PENITENT

ASK DAD

BOYS WILL BE BOYS!

PHASE

GONE

ONE BY ONE

VALEDICTORY SPEECH

SNOW AFTER EASTER

“THE HUNTSMAN”

PLASTICA

DIGNITY

REVERSE PRAYER

THE ACCOMPLICE

BROTHERS

CROSSING OVER

THE HANDSHAKE

THE BOG

TEARS

GREEN ISLE

THE PILGRIM

THE PROPOSAL

RAG–QUILT LIFE

HARD RECKONING

ON MY OWN

THE WHITE HORSE

STUMP CREEK HILL

INTENSIVE CARE

GONE

EPILOGUE REUNION: FOURTH OF JULY 1993

If you enjoyed We Were the Mylvaneys, check out these other great Joyce Carol Oates titles

P.S. IDEAS, INTERVIEWS & FEATURES … About the Author

About the Book

Read On

ABOUT THE AUTHOR. The Continuity of Generations

LIFE at a Glance

ABOUT THE BOOK. What is a Family except Memories?

READ ON. Have You Read?

If You Liked This, Why Not Try More From The Perennial Collection

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

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A NOVEL

‘Oates’s finest … a major achievement’

.....

Molly-O was nine years old, and no longer young. She’d had respiratory infections, knee trouble. Like every horse the Mulvaneys had ever owned. (“A horse is the most delicate animal known to man,” Dad said, “—but they don’t tell you till it’s too late and he’s yours.”) She wasn’t a beautiful horse even by Chautauqua Valley standards but she was sweet-tempered and docile; with a narrow chest, legs that appeared foreshortened, knobby knees. Her coat was a rich burnishedred with a flaglike patch of white on her nose and four irregular white socks—Button’s horse, her twelfth birthday present. There is no love like the love you have for your first horse but that love is so easy to forget, or misplace—it’s like love for yourself, the self you outgrow.

Marianne hid her face in Molly-O’s mane whispering how sorry she was, oh how sorry!—since school had started she’d been neglecting Molly-O, and hadn’t ridden her more than a dozen times last summer. Her horse-mania of several years ago had long since subsided.

.....

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