Amy and Isabelle: A Novel (Vintage Contemporaries)

Once or twice, oddly, she had even sat behind her typewriter and simply felt free—there was no simpler way to put it. It was like after a thunderstorm when the air seemed suddenly relieved of a headache. Such a feeling, such clarity, took her by surprise. How different not to have life oppressive! To not be frightened by the sight of Barbara Rawley

Wally Brown

BUT THE WEATHER was perfect. “Perfect weather,” people said to each other, shaking their heads. The sky was vast and blue, lawns vibrant with their tender shoots of grass. Barbecue grills got rolled out of garages, and people ate supper on their front porches; there were the summer sounds of screen doors banging and ice cubes clinking, while childr

she was little; hepaticas, trillium, jack-in-the-pulpit.

recrudescence