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Gregory Phipps
Goodreads Author
Born
in London, Canada
February 10
Website
Twitter
Genre
Influences
Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Updike, Roth, Steinbeck, John Irving, Michener,
...more
Member Since
November 2018
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/gregoryphipps
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The Hermit of Carmel
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
Catching up
[image error]Wow! It just occurred to me how long it’s been since I updated this site. Time flies… Spring came and went. Summer languished hot and long, and Autumn didn’t let me down: it’s my favourite of the four seasons. So where have I been? After the commercial launch of Hermit of Carmel, I bought an old home in the seaside town of Mahone Bay, in Nova Scotia. Some magazine or another named it
Read more of this blog post »
“A single, perfectly executed drive, out to 250 yards, can make up for twenty flubbed, duffed, hooked, sliced, shanked, and pulled drives that end up in the woods. Every amateur golfer knows and embraces this theology. For many, it’s the only thing that keeps them coming back to this game again and again. You remember the great holes or entire courses that you’ve played out successfully and conveniently forget the bad ones. Psychologists call it motivated forgetting. Psychology aside, I suspect this rationalization, by golfers, falls into the same category of things from which God saves idiots. Without it, I suspect there would be exponentially fewer golf enthusiasts in the world. - The Hermit of Carmel”
― The Hermit of Carmel
― The Hermit of Carmel
“With a rage that surprised even him, Robert swung the club with all his might into the adjacent drywall. The club missed the two-by-fours and plunged deeply between the studs, leaving a dark, gaping hole in the garage wall. He pulled out the club like a swordsman and struck the wall again and again and again. Robert’s screams — intense, guttural and primal — drowned out the sound made by the impact and penetration of each thrust at the drywall enemy. On the fifth stroke, the surprisingly tough club found an intransigent wall stud, and the shaft and head of the club finally surrendered. Rather than bending, it splintered into a jagged mess, rendering the entire club useless. The garage wall, now pockmarked with deep holes, suffered a similar fate.
Panting from the exertion and uncontrolled release of emotion, Robert dropped the remains of the club and stared blankly at the cratered wall. He took a deep breath and held it. Anguish and grief were family relations who had invited pain to join them in his home. Pain evidently had an angry cousin. None were welcome. He wished the family reunion to be over.”
― The Hermit of Carmel
Panting from the exertion and uncontrolled release of emotion, Robert dropped the remains of the club and stared blankly at the cratered wall. He took a deep breath and held it. Anguish and grief were family relations who had invited pain to join them in his home. Pain evidently had an angry cousin. None were welcome. He wished the family reunion to be over.”
― The Hermit of Carmel
“A single, perfectly executed drive, out to 250 yards, can make up for twenty flubbed, duffed, hooked, sliced, shanked, and pulled drives that end up in the woods. Every amateur golfer knows and embraces this theology. For many, it’s the only thing that keeps them coming back to this game again and again. You remember the great holes or entire courses that you’ve played out successfully and conveniently forget the bad ones. Psychologists call it motivated forgetting. Psychology aside, I suspect this rationalization, by golfers, falls into the same category of things from which God saves idiots. Without it, I suspect there would be exponentially fewer golf enthusiasts in the world. - The Hermit of Carmel”
― The Hermit of Carmel
― The Hermit of Carmel
“With a rage that surprised even him, Robert swung the club with all his might into the adjacent drywall. The club missed the two-by-fours and plunged deeply between the studs, leaving a dark, gaping hole in the garage wall. He pulled out the club like a swordsman and struck the wall again and again and again. Robert’s screams — intense, guttural and primal — drowned out the sound made by the impact and penetration of each thrust at the drywall enemy. On the fifth stroke, the surprisingly tough club found an intransigent wall stud, and the shaft and head of the club finally surrendered. Rather than bending, it splintered into a jagged mess, rendering the entire club useless. The garage wall, now pockmarked with deep holes, suffered a similar fate.
Panting from the exertion and uncontrolled release of emotion, Robert dropped the remains of the club and stared blankly at the cratered wall. He took a deep breath and held it. Anguish and grief were family relations who had invited pain to join them in his home. Pain evidently had an angry cousin. None were welcome. He wished the family reunion to be over.”
― The Hermit of Carmel
Panting from the exertion and uncontrolled release of emotion, Robert dropped the remains of the club and stared blankly at the cratered wall. He took a deep breath and held it. Anguish and grief were family relations who had invited pain to join them in his home. Pain evidently had an angry cousin. None were welcome. He wished the family reunion to be over.”
― The Hermit of Carmel
