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324 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2007
“Some on the other hand have heard the official story of the boy’s unknowable origins, and some even believe it. This footloose and misbegotten child, with his fortunate pale skin and his experimental corncob pipe, with his intimacy with slave lore and his confounded gift for looking ragged even in clothing freshly pressed by none other than a white woman or so they say, this child can surely be no positive influence on their young, no positive influence at all. By denying him they make him irresistible, and like a sturdy weed he thrives upon their neglect.”
“As the days go by he watches her in the manner of a naturalist making observations, as if fearing that at any moment she could molt and reveal some alternate self beneath the skin, some raw beast damp and ready for transformation into a different sort of creature altogether. Everything she touches she touches in a manner different from the ways of his mother and the ways of dead Petersen’s dead wife. There is about her a grace and an ineffable sadness that conspire to retard her movements and make them thereby into something almost musical, transforming every act into a kind of prayer or languorous meditation. She seems always to be preparing-not merely his supper or a bucket of washwater or some other common thing, but herself, for that part of her life which is yet to come.”
“Perhaps his kinfolk would uphold him in his efforts. He would readily pledge to reform and swear upon a goddamn bible if they required it. And yet to be truthful with himself he recognises these ideas for the pipedreams that they are, since regardless of such other faults as he may have he is not entirely lacking in self-awareness.”