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Quest
Excerpt from Quest
Life enclosed Jean as a drop of water holds an am ba. She felt it in its entirety; she could not as yet break it up into parts. Sometimes it was warm, pleasant, and the tiny nucleus of herself expanded, glowing. Sometimes it irritated her with harshness, coldness, and she contracted to shut away the pain from without. Later there were the sounds "good," and "bad." Good was when her self expanded. Bad was when she drew in tensely. Slowly she found that good and bad belonged to her. "Don't touch that, Jean." Her hands wanted to touch. Bad hands. If they touched, then the air around her lowered, difficult to breathe. She was no longer the amoeba; she knew dimly a relation between herself and her world. Struggles between her hands, her feet, and the tiny inner self that craved warm pleasantness about it. Swift alternations in the tone of the enclosing world.
The world split into parts: Mamma. Papa. Baby. Other people. Things.
Mamma was always in the world. Papa went out of it. Presently Jean learned to sit on the steps when mother said, "Time for papa to come home now." Waiting hurt. It held her suspended, breathless.
About the Publisher
Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works."
Life enclosed Jean as a drop of water holds an am ba. She felt it in its entirety; she could not as yet break it up into parts. Sometimes it was warm, pleasant, and the tiny nucleus of herself expanded, glowing. Sometimes it irritated her with harshness, coldness, and she contracted to shut away the pain from without. Later there were the sounds "good," and "bad." Good was when her self expanded. Bad was when she drew in tensely. Slowly she found that good and bad belonged to her. "Don't touch that, Jean." Her hands wanted to touch. Bad hands. If they touched, then the air around her lowered, difficult to breathe. She was no longer the amoeba; she knew dimly a relation between herself and her world. Struggles between her hands, her feet, and the tiny inner self that craved warm pleasantness about it. Swift alternations in the tone of the enclosing world.
The world split into parts: Mamma. Papa. Baby. Other people. Things.
Mamma was always in the world. Papa went out of it. Presently Jean learned to sit on the steps when mother said, "Time for papa to come home now." Waiting hurt. It held her suspended, breathless.
About the Publisher
Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works."
- GenresFiction
362 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1922
24 people want to read
About the author
Helen R. Hull
29 books1 followerHelen Rose Hull was brought up in Michigan, the eldest child of a schools superintendent and a former teacher. Early on she and her brother became financially responsible for their family. She went to Lansing High School and Michigan State University and was a schoolteacher; after graduate work she went to Wellesley College to teach creative writing. Here she met Mabel Louise Robinson with whom she lived for the rest of her life. Their home was in New York and, in summer, in North Brooklin, Maine. She joined the Department of English at Columbia in 1916 and taught there for the next forty years, becoming professor. In New York she was a key member of the Heterodoxy Club, a group of outstanding and unorthodox women. She published numerous short stories and the first of her 17 novels came out in 1922, the last in 1963.
- from the back cover of 'Heat Lightning' published by Persephone Books
- from the back cover of 'Heat Lightning' published by Persephone Books
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September 9, 2012
Jean Winthrop, the heroine of this 1922 book, is like a seed struggling to grow in a rocky place. Bright, sensitive and loving, she grows up in an atmosphere of emotional chaos, created by her parents' troubled relationship and financial difficulties. The day to day happenings of a young girl's life at the turn of the last century reveal an imperfect heroine who the reader cheers (and sometimes blushes) for.
Displaying 1 of 1 review