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By Anita Brookner

In Falling Slowly, Anita Brookner brilliantly inspires the origins, nature, and results of human isolation. As heart age settles upon the Sharpe sisters, remorse over possibilities now not taken casts a shadow over their contented lifestyles. Beatrice, a skilled if uninspired pianist, offers up appearing, a call encouraged through stiffening joints and the unexpected cognizance that her artwork hasn't ever introduced her anyone to like. Miriam, often calm and lucid, slides headlong into an affair with an enthralling, handsome--and very married--man. And as every one lady awakens to the urgency of her loneliness, disorder threatens to sever them either from the single happiness they've got grown to expect: one another. Painfully clever, the Sharpe sisters include the conflicting yearnings Jane Austen delineated in Sense and Sensibility.

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Sample text

Mhen one travels, one might "hit" a storm. The shoe must be tied to the ankle. As for we who "love to be astonished," McDonalds is the world's largest purchaser of beef eyeballs. They went out with bows and armbands to shoot at the hay. It's as easy as waves, slopping water. Tiaverse, watch, and cease. He had the hands of an artist. Penelope reworking the twill. " I'11just keep myself from picking up the telephone, in order to get some work done. What memory is not a "gripping" thought. Only fragments are accurate.

A healthy dialectic between poetry and prose. Good days go by fast, too fast. On the low rectangular coffee table was a rack for the postcard collection. A lot of questions, a few answers, the progress of questioning, the spot on the brain where these words will go. For example, I remember the blue coat with the red piping but I don't remember myself in it. There was green dust on the park bench, sanded by bottoms. " Raisins, cheese, the fapanese. I was stocking counter-convention in the localized world of the kitchen steam and rain.

As for we who "love to be astonished," the night is lit. Remarkably to learn to look. My father would say I've a "big day" tomor- a storm row. Words are not always adequate to the occasion, and my "probably" sounded hopeless. It's real, why, so, it's wrong. I mentioned my face because I am made that way wonderfully like a shadow I do not despise. But if I don't like the first dress I try on, I won't like any. It is only a coincidence. Whose shadow who's. At the circus the elephants were more beautiful than the horses, more touching than the clowns, and more graceful than the tigers trained to jump on their backs.

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