Paper Moon: A Novel - Softcover

Brown, Joe David

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1568582307 ISBN 13: 9781568582306

Verlag: Thunder's Mouth Press, 2002

Inhaltsangabe

"Enchanting . . . 24-carat fun!" -- New York Times Book Review

The classic tale of a female Huck Finn, Peter Bogdanovich's film version of the book was nominated for four Academy Awards. Set in the darkest days of the Great Depression, this is the timeless story of an 11-year-old orphan's rollicking journey through the Deep South with a con man who just might be her father. Brimming with humor, pathos, and an irresistible narrative energy, this is American storytelling at its finest. Paper Moon is tough, vibrant, and ripe for rediscovery.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Joe David Brown was the author of numerous books, including Kings Go Forth, which was made into a film starring Frank Sinatra, Natalie Wood, and Tony Curtis. He died in 1976.

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The classic tale of a female Huck Finn, Peter Bogdanovich's film version of the book was nominated for four Academy Awards. Set in the darkest days of the Great Depression, this is the timeless story of an 11-year-old orphan's rollicking journey through the Deep South with a con man who just might be her father. Brimming with humor, pathos, and an irresistible narrative energy, this is American storytelling at its finest. Paper Moon is tough, vibrant, and ripe for rediscovery.

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PAPER MOON
By Joe David Brown

Four Walls Eight Windows

Copyright © 2000 Joe David Brown.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1-56858-230-7

Chapter One

They say my mama, Miss Essie Mae Loggins, was the wildest girl in Marengo County, Alabama. I couldn't say about that. There's not much I remember about her at all. What I can recall are mostly little things. Like how after she put polish on her fingernails, she would spread her fingers wide, hold out her arms, and go waltzing around the room while it dried. I used to try to do the same thing and we both would laugh and laugh because I would get dizzy and tumble down. I remember one time a man she didn't like came to the house, and she took off her shoe and chased him right out the door.

    I've heard tell that little memories are the fondling kind. Maybe so, but I'm glad I have one memory about Mama that I know is important and worth keeping. It was the last time I saw her. That was two days before I was six years old. I was in the backyard with Callie, the colored girl, when she came out to kiss me goodbye. Maybe I only made it up, but I've always told myself I remember her exact words: "Be a good girl and mind Callie, and I'll bring you home a baby rabbit for your birthday." I do know she was wearing a green dress and had on a perfume that smelled like cape jasmine. When I smell cape jasmine today I think of her.

    She was killed in an automobile wreck the next night, coming home from a house party down on the Black Warrior River. A man named Joe Clay Powell was driving the car, and he was killed too. He was a married man, so there was a big scandal. That's what started me traveling around with Long Boy Pray and helping him do business. But that's a long story, and I'll tell you about it later.

    The time I'm talking about, mind you, was a few years before and after Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected President for the first time. I know you've heard about the Depression we had back then. Well, I don't think times were nearly so bad as some people put on. For one thing, in those days folks in small places were accustomed to being poor and didn't expect to get rich, like they do now. For another, when people are working hard for the grit essentials?like enough to eat, and clothes for their kids, and a roof that's tolerably sound?they're apt to be goodhearted and understanding of one another. It's only when they start flogging themselves to get things they don't really need?like big cars, and fancy clothes, and a house bigger than the one next door?that they get aggravated and mean. At least, that's the way it appears to me.

    Besides, lots of people did have some money in those days. I don't think there was hardly a place Long Boy and I went that we couldn't find somebody to do business with. Anybody who was working usually had a cash reserve of some kind, and that's sure not true today.

    Long Boy and I never stayed more than a couple of days in one place. We traveled in Alabama mostly, but Long Boy was liable to strike out in any direction. The only thing I could be sure of was that at least once a month he would head toward Decatur. I didn't like it, but there wasn't much I could say, being a girl and all. The first time I let him know I knew what was going on was when I was eleven. I don't know what possessed me, but I reckon I just was cranky and out of sorts. That happened a lot when I was eleven. It was the year I became a woman, and for a long time it scared me nearly to death every month when you know what happened. There wasn't anybody around to explain to me what was going on.

    Anyway, on this day, Long Boy was tooling the old Hudson up Route 31 toward Decatur. He was humming and looking pleased with himself. It must have been late summer because there were a lot of big old wagons on the road hauling cotton to the gin. It seemed like every mile or so we would pass a bunch of men working on WPA. Every time, Long Boy would say something like, "Lookit them pore scutters," or "I wouldn't work with a shovel less'n I was drown'ding in manure." I was used to Long Boy talking this way. He never had much use for anybody who did ordinary work for a living.

    Finally, he turned to me and said, "How much money we got in the box, honeybunch?"

    "Enough for you to get your pole greased, I reckon," I said.

    He couldn't have been more surprised, like the old saying goes, if I had hit him in the face with a wet cat. He got red in the face and blinked his eyes and forgot to shut his mouth. He yelled, "Where'd you hear that kinder talk?"

    "I heard," I said.

    "You oughter be shamed of yourself, talking thataway," he said, "a ten-year-old girl."

    "Eleven," I said. "You talk that way."

    "I ain't never ..." he started. He worked his mouth like he always did when he couldn't think of what to say. "You ain't too big for me to take a hickory to, missy," he said.

    "Poo!" I said.

    That made him mad. "I swear," he said, "I'm gonna do it for sure! I'm gonna put you in a home! You need a good woman to take the sass outer you."

    I didn't say anything, just sort of scooched down in the seat and looked out the window at the red dirt and pine trees. It was five, maybe six, minutes before he spoke again, like I knew he would.

    "Hon," he said, sounding sorry, "I didn't mean that about the home. I was just a-talking." He coughed and made clearing noises in his throat. He said, loudly, "Sure, I go to Aunt Kate's now and then. Lots of men go to Aunt Kate's, specially men that ain't married. Ain't nothing-well, you ain't old enough to know about it, hon.... One of these days you'll understand."

    If I hadn't been out of sorts, I might have giggled. I had been knowing about Aunt Kate's house ever since I was seven. One night when Long Boy was there, I went and stood across the street. I never will forget how disappointed I was. Aunt Kate's looked like the other houses in the block, except all the lights were on. Somebody had told me houses like that had a red light out front. But that wasn't so. I had a lot of imagination in those days. I suppose I expected to hear a lot of laughing and singing and carrying on. Except for the katydids, all I could hear was a victrola playing real low, and I couldn't be sure it was in Aunt Kate's.

    I wasn't about to tell Long Boy all this. I just turned and stared at him like I did when I wanted to make him uneasy.

    He got red in the face again. "Well, now ..." he said, opening and shutting his mouth. He bent over the wheel and peered at the road, like he couldn't see three feet ahead. I let him wiggle a little before I turned and looked out the window again.

    After a while he reached over and gave my shoulder a little push. He tried to sound like nothing had happened. "What say I buy you a little ol' new dress in Decatur? You like a new dress, Addle sugar?"

    "Ain't enough money," I said.

    "Why, shoot," he said, "that ain't no problem. We'll just do a little business this afternoon. A little quick business before the stores close."

    "What kind of business?" I asked right away. I couldn't help it. Everytime we talked about business, I got that little crawly feeling of excitement.

    Long Boy knew it, too. He cut his eyes at...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Thunder's Mouth Press
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2002
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1568582307
• ISBN 13: 9781568582306
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 320
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: HACHETTE LIVRE SA; https://www.hachette.fr/; ; 1 AVENUE GUTENBERG; MAUREPAS CEDEX; 78319; Frankreich