And the Dark Sacred Night
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Kit Noonan is an unemployed art historian with twins to support, a mortgage to pay, and a frustrated wife who insists that, to move forward, Kit must first confront a crucial mystery about his past. Born to a single teenage mother, he has never known the identity of his biological father.
Kit’s search begins with his onetime stepfather, Jasper, a take-no-prisoners Vermont outdoorsman, and ultimately leads him to Fenno McLeod, the beloved protagonist of Glass's award-winning novel Three Junes. Immersing readers in a panorama that stretches from Vermont to the tip of Cape Cod, And the Dark Sacred Night is an unforgettable novel about the youthful choices that steer our destinies, the necessity of forgiveness, and the risks we take when we face down the shadows of our past.
days a week at the farm. He survived the stage of inhaling gallons of dust and aerated rodent dung in Zeke’s enormous, neglected attic, bashing his head repeatedly on the roof’s raw interior as he removed box after box, trunk after trunk, and carted them out to the barn for sorting. There is a soothing monotony to the work—broken every so often by the discovery of startling treasures: most notably, a 1948 letter from Thomas E. Dewey to Zeke the Elder, floating the notion that Zeke might be
gallery above his desk. He had thirty-five postcards then. By the time he left for college, he had close to three hundred. After more than an hour of shivering among the Uglies and their cohorts, Kit rolls out of the bunk, careful not to strike his head on the frame supporting the upper mattress. He stands beside the bed for a moment, just to look at his son. Will is turned toward the wall, only a tangle of dark hair (Sandra’s hair) visible above the quilt. She thinks this is about you, he
can’t foresee, Jasper hands Kit the shovel, goes back in. Kyle is slouched at the table, a blanket over his shoulders, hands gripping his tiny furnace of coffee. “Glad you stayed?” “Not sure it’s much better in town, Dad.” Kyle points at the radio. “State of emergency.” “Oh that. Governors love national attention. Moment in the spotlight.” Kyle laughs, shakes his head. “I know you want people to think nothing fazes you.” Jasper considers scrambled eggs on the woodstove. Easier than toast.
answer to hand. “Us, too,” she says. “Was that a perfect storm or what?” Quoth the breathless bishop to the actress splayed on the fucking sheets. “Jasper? Are you still there?” “Here I am. Yup. Right here.” “Okay. I called because I’m trying to reach Kit. Sandra told me he’s with you. I hadn’t heard from him in weeks, and I just …” It’s finally hit her, how wrongheaded this conversation is, at the very least how absurd. She says primly, “I’m glad you’ve stayed in touch, the two of you.”
have to learn German instead? Will we eat things like bratwurst and cabbage?” Even when Lucinda’s brother shipped out, she didn’t think much about the possibility that he might die. Only decades later did she understand her mother’s wanderings through the downstairs rooms so late at night. Patrick had survived, of course, only to die of skin cancer in his sixties (all that Pacific sun, or so reasoned the doctor who failed to cure him). At least their parents were gone by then. Lucinda hears a