Summer Crossing: A Novel (Modern Library Paperbacks)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Thought to be lost for over 50 years, here is the first novel by one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century.
Set in New York during the summer of 1945, this is the story of a young carefree socialite, Grady, who must make serious decisions about the romance she is dangerously pursuing and the effect it will have on everyone involved.
Fans of Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Capote’s short stories will be thrilled to read Summer Crossing.
that why it never rang? Poor Mrs. Manzer, weeping, and Ida, shouting, and Clyde: go home, I’ll call you later, those were his exact words, and how long could she endure it, alone among stopped clocks and heat-hushed sounds that faded at the windows? She sank on the bed, her blue-flooded head slipping sleepily downward. “Christ, McNeil, doesn’t the bell work? I’ve been standing here a half-hour.” “I’m asleep,” she said, peering at Peter with sleep-sullen, disappointed eyes. She wavered at the
the sudden effect of unifying them all; they were a family: Lucy glowed, her husband, her daughters, she was a proud woman, and Grady, for all her stubborn oddness was, let anyone say whatever they would, a wonderful child, a real person. “Darling,” Lucy said, “I’m going to miss you.” Apple, who was walking ahead, turned around. “Did you drive your car in this morning, Grady?” Grady was slow in answering; lately everything Apple said seemed suspicious; why care, really? What if Apple did know?
were the physical papers and that the publication rights belonged to the Trust. Just to make sure, I asked my son John Burnham Schwartz, a novelist in his own right and someone who knew Truman since he was a little boy, to check at Sotheby’s to see that all was in order. The amazing conclusion to all of this was that apparently no one bid at the auction. This could have been for a couple of reasons. First, the price estimates were too high, and second, they were put off by the publication
was pocketing change at the cigar counter. As he went toward her, she going half-way to meet him, he walked with the easy grace of one who expects always to know the best things of life. “Aren’t you pretty, McNeil?” he said, and gave her a confident hug. “But not as pretty as me: I’ve just been to the barber shop.” The impeccable freshness of his clean neat-featured face showed as much; and a fresh haircut lent him that look of defenseless innocence that only a haircut can. Grady gave him a
you’re Manzer’s girl, huh? We saw the picture of you in the magazine. That was a good picture. My girl Winifred (Manzer tell you about Winifred?), she liked that picture a lot. You think the guy that took it would take one of her? It’d give her a big kick.” Grady could only look at him; and that, hardly: for he was like a fat quivering baby grown with freakish suddenness to the size of an ox: his eyes popped and his lips sagged. “I’m Mink,” he said, and pulled out a cigarette which Grady allowed