Friendswood

Informationen zum Autor Rene Steinke Klappentext A big! moving! critically acclaimed novel of one tight-knit Texas community and the events that alter its residents' lives forever. Friendswood! Texas! is a small Gulf Coast town of church suppers! high school football games ! oil rigs on the horizon! and hurricane weather. When tragedy rears its head with an industrial leak that kills and sickens residents! it pulls on the common thread that runs through the community! intensifying everything. From a confused fifteen-year-old girl beset by visions! to a high school football star tormented by his actions! to a mother galvanized by the death of her teen daughter! to a morally bankrupt father trying to survive his mistakes! René Steinke explores what happens when families are trapped in the ambiguity of history's missteps-when the actions of a few change the lives and well-being of many. Driving the narrative powerfully forward is the suspenseful question of the fates of four Friendswood families! and Steinke's striking insight and empathy. Inspired in part by the town where she herself grew up! this layered! propulsive! psychologically complex story brings to vivid life a tight-knit Texas community and the events that alter its residents' lives forever. Leseprobe Copyright © 2014 by René Steinke 1993 * Rosemont One of those evenings, before they knew, Lee walked past the Clarks' ranch house, as sunlight shattered through the leaves overhead. The fan of a lawn sprinkler bowed down again in the green yard, and a few drops dotted her shoulder. Jess ran in front, dark hair splayed against the narrow back of her shirt, sneakers snapping against the concrete. Lee followed her around the bend, where the Bordens had planted an orange plastic Texas on a wooden stake right there in the garden among the marigolds. In the flat distance, another crop plane droned low in the sky, a silver spray trailing behind it, though nothing grew out where the refinery used to be. Jess waited at the stop sign. She was twelve, and her teeth seemed too big for her delicate mouth, her arms extra long, as if they grew ahead of the rest of her skinny body. It's okay, right? We figured, yes, said Lee. But, listen, don't show off, just ride the horse like you've practiced. I don't know why he worries. I'm a good riderDad knows that. Jess took her hand, and Lee held some lost part of herself just returned. Yeah, said Lee. But let's not push it. They turned the corner, and the sunset spread before them, two spar- rows perched on a fence, radio jangling out from someone's window. In one yard, a man stood holding a garden hose that shot at a row of hedges; his white T-shirt glowed phosphorescent in the dimness, as if he were trying hard not to disappear. Can we hurry it up? said Jess. They walked over the footbridge, over the cold, steely noise of crickets. On their street, Jess let go of her hand and ran around to the back of the neighbor's house, where the horse was tied to the gate. Lee called after her, I'll be out there in a minute. At home, Lee found Jack in the kitchen, smoking by the open window, squinting, face turned to the bright orange sun. They'd made up in bed that afternoon, but she was afraid, when he saw Jess on that horse, that he might get angry again. I like that dress, he said, eyeing her. It's not a dress, it's a skirt. Whatever. He smiled. She went over and touched his forearm, kissed his sweaty, stubbled cheek. You smell good. It's a wonder what a bath will do. He pulled his shirt away from his chest and fanned himself a little. Hot though. He sighed, tapped his ashes into the sink. Let's go on outside then, I guess. With that limp he wore as a strut, Jack went to set up the lawn chairs in the backyard. She took off her shoes to feel her f...

Autorentext

Rene Steinke

Klappentext

A big, moving, critically acclaimed novel of one tight-knit Texas community and the events that alter its residents' lives forever.

Friendswood, Texas, is a small Gulf Coast town of church suppers, high school football games , oil rigs on the horizon, and hurricane weather. When tragedy rears its head with an industrial leak that kills and sickens residents, it pulls on the common thread that runs through the community, intensifying everything. From a confused fifteen-year-old girl beset by visions, to a high school football star tormented by his actions, to a mother galvanized by the death of her teen daughter, to a morally bankrupt father trying to survive his mistakes, René Steinke explores what happens when families are trapped in the ambiguity of history's missteps-when the actions of a few change the lives and well-being of many.

Driving the narrative powerfully forward is the suspenseful question of the fates of four Friendswood families, and Steinke's striking insight and empathy. Inspired in part by the town where she herself grew up, this layered, propulsive, psychologically complex story brings to vivid life a tight-knit Texas community and the events that alter its residents' lives forever.

Leseprobe
Copyright © 2014 by René Steinke

1993

Rosemont

One of those evenings, before they knew, Lee walked past the Clarks’ ranch house, as sunlight shattered through the leaves overhead. The fan of a lawn sprinkler bowed down again in the green yard, and a few drops dotted her shoulder. Jess ran in front, dark hair splayed against the narrow back of her shirt, sneakers snapping against the concrete. Lee followed her around the bend, where the Bordens had planted an orange plastic Texas on a wooden stake right there in the garden among the marigolds. In the flat distance, another crop plane droned low in the sky, a silver spray trailing behind it, though nothing grew out where the refinery used to be.

Jess waited at the stop sign. She was twelve, and her teeth seemed too big for her delicate mouth, her arms extra long, as if they grew ahead of the rest of her skinny body. “It’s okay, right?”

“We figured, yes,” said Lee. “But, listen, don’t show off, just ride the horse like you’ve practiced.”

“I don’t know why he worries. I’m a good rider—Dad knows that.” Jess took her hand, and Lee held some lost part of herself just returned.

“Yeah,” said Lee. “But let’s not push it.”

They turned the corner, and the sunset spread before them, two spar- rows perched on a fence, radio jangling out from someone’s window. In

one yard, a man stood holding a garden hose that shot at a row of hedges; his white T-shirt glowed phosphorescent in the dimness, as if he were trying hard not to disappear.

“Can we hurry it up?” said Jess. They walked over the footbridge, over the cold, steely noise of crickets. On their street, Jess let go of her hand and ran around to the back of the neighbor’s house, where the horse was tied to the gate. Lee called after her, “I’ll be out there in a minute.”

At home, Lee found Jack in the kitchen, smoking by the open window, squinting, face turned to the bright orange sun. They’d made up in bed that afternoon, but she was afraid, when he saw Jess on that horse, that he might get angry again. “I like that dress,” he said, eyeing her.

“It’s not a dress, it’s a skirt.” “Whatever.” He smiled.

She went over and touched his forearm, kissed his sweaty, stubbled cheek. “You smell good.”

“It’s a wonder what a bath will do.” He pulled his shirt away from his chest and fanned himself a little. “Hot though.” He sighed, tapped his ashes into the sink. “Let’s go on outside then, I guess.”

With that limp he wore as a strut, Jack went to set up the lawn chairs in the backyard. She took off her shoes to fee…