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S'està carregant… The Hut Builderde Laurence Fearnley
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Apunta't a LibraryThing per saber si aquest llibre et pot agradar. No hi ha cap discussió a Converses sobre aquesta obra. Given that Laurence Fearnley is a woman, she has an uncanny ability to write convincingly in a masculine voice. Boden Black is the youngest son of a butcher in small town Fairlie. His world is narrow and close. He draws a picture of a mother who is depressed following the loss of all her other children through multiple miscarriages and eventually war. Boden seeks solace and laughter with a neighbouring family. It is with Dudley that Boden experiences true joy for the first time on seeing the MacKenzie Basin. Here begins Boden's love of words, his poetry which provides an avenue to express his innermost thoughts. We follow Boden as a shocking revelation is made, as he learns his father's trade and as he forges new friendships on the slopes of Mount Cook. This is a reflective tale which conjures the remarkable views in this area of the South Island and also the solitariness that can be experienced there. This is so beautifully written that one experiences the shocks and surprises as Boden does. This book explores how upbringing moulds our ability to relate to others and yet nature provides the outlet for the inner soul. Sense ressenyes | afegeix-hi una ressenya
It was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen and I didn't have the words to describe it. It felt it though. I let out an incredible whoop of joy and skipped into the air, laughing and laughing; there was so much joy inside me. For the first time in all my memory, I could not contain myself. As a boy in the early 1940s, young Boden Black f... No s'han trobat descripcions de biblioteca. |
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Sir Edmund Hillary (yes the real life person has a cameo appearance) has just taken Boden on his one and only mountain climb up one of the easier routes on Mt Cook:
“…The first rays of sun touched the peaks and ridges and the sky was suddenly drenched in salmon pink. As far as the eye could see, the tops were bathed in warm skin tones whereas on the snow slopes and cliff faces beneath us everything was slate-black. I couldn’t believe that anyone – not even a man who had climbed the highest mountain in the world – could ever grow blasé about being, simply, in the mountains…”