By Elizabeth Hay
From a few injuries of affection and climate we by no means really recuperate. on the worst of the Prairie airborne dirt and dust bowl of the Nineteen Thirties, a tender guy looks out of a snow fall and endlessly alters the lives of 2 sisters. there's the gorgeous, fastidious Lucinda, and the difficult and tenacious Norma Joyce, initially a wierd, self-possessed baby, later a girl who learns whatever of self-forgiveness and of the redemptive nature of artwork. Their contention units the degree for all that follows in a story spanning over thirty years, starting in Saskatchewan and relocating, within the a long time following the struggle, to Ottawa and long island urban. Disarming, vividly instructed, unforgettable, this can be a tale concerning the blunders we make that by no means leave, approximately how the issues we wish to preserve vanish and the issues we wish to lose go back to hang-out us.
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Extra resources for A Student of Weather
A thing is in I's mouth. Why, it is stick-meat. End of he come soft like shit, and lick of meat thick on I's tongue. All prickling is I's cheek, and is I not glean where of I, yet glean I now of flower, and girl, of hut and pig-keep that stand by, and glean I's way of coming here. There cross of pig-keep is stand white-skin hut, where by is I hear noise of man say many things, and noise of girl say back to he. Glean I that Hob is come here back from doings with they setting-kine. N o w all come quiet.
The track is wider, coming up by way of valley's edge. H o w many dead men's feet does it demand to make it so? It is a fury and misery to think of being one day in my grave and yet this track still here. Its deep ruts, older than our great-fathers. Its flood pools, all the frightening straightness of its line, still here. Still here. It rises steep before me, firm beneath my tread, and yet the walking's hard. Sharp pebbles cut my feet, the mud upon them drying to a sun-split hide. Shifting my bag from one hand to other, muttering, telling myself to leave the track atop this hill and walk upon soft grass about the rim, so as to come down upon Bridge-in-Valley from the east.
I's face is cold. A grey is come in dark by other 52 way of river-setting, as like many whiles is go they by. Sniff flowers, and hear quiet-say of girl from out of pig-keep, by of wood-stop holes which open stands. It is not yet first bright, she say, and she is here with many food. C o m e out, she say, that may we eat, where after journey we a-ways. N o w is I glean on all that we is say for do, and is with goodfright in I's belly. Walk of world with girl. With girl find food, and lie with girl.
A Student of Weather by Elizabeth Hay