Birdie’s keeping it together, of course she is. So she''s a little hungover sometimes on her shifts, and has to bring her daughter Emaleen to work while she waits tables at an Alaskan roadside lodge, but it''s a tough town to be a single mother and Emaleen never goes hungry. Still, she remembers happier times--trout fishing with her grandfather and hiking in the tundra--being free in the world of nature.; Arthur Neilsen is a soft-spoken recluse, with scars across his face, who brings Emaleen back to safety when she gets lost in the woods one day. He speaks with a strange cadence, appears in town only at the change of seasons, and most people avoid him. But for Birdie, he represents everything she’s ever longed for. He lives in a cabin in the mountains on the far side of the Wolverine River and tells Birdie about the caribou, marmots and wild sheep that share his untamed world. She falls in love with him and the land he knows so well. Against the warnings of those who care about her, Birdie moves to his isolated cabin. She and her daughter are alone with Arthur in a vast wilderness, hundreds of miles from roads, telephones, electricity or outside contact, but Birdie believes she has come prepared. She can start a fire and cook on a woodstove. She has her rifle and fishing rod. In the beginning, it is an idyllic life--the three of them catch salmon, pick berries and swim in sunlit waters. But soon Birdie realizes that she is not at all prepared for what lies ahead: Arthur harbors a dark secret unlike anything she’d ever imagined; and she learns that the Alaska wilderness is as mysterious and dangerous as it is beautiful. <Black Woods, Blue Sky <is a suspenseful novel with life-and-death stakes about the love between a mother and daughter, and about the lure of a wild life--about what we gain and what it might cost us....

Autorentext

Eowyn Ivey was raised in Alaska and continues to live there with her husband and two daughters. She worked for nearly a decade as a bookseller at independent Fireside Books in Palmer, Alaska, and prior to that as a reporter for the local newspaper, The Frontiersman.

Klappentext

**NATIONAL BESTSELLER • The author of the Pulitzer Prize finalist The Snow Child returns to the mythical landscapes of Alaska with an unforgettable dark fairy tale that asks the question: Can love save us from ourselves?

“No one writes like Eowyn Ivey.”—Geraldine Brooks
“You will find yourself in places you have never been.”—Louise Erdrich
“Ivey is an enthralling storyteller.”—The New York Times Book Review**

AN NPR AND SEATTLE TIMES BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR

Birdie’s keeping it together; of course she is. So she’s a little hungover, sometimes, and she has to bring her daughter, Emaleen, to her job waiting tables at an Alaskan roadside lodge, but she’s getting by as a single mother in a tough town. Still, Birdie can remember happier times from her youth, when she was free in the wilds of nature.

Arthur Neilsen, a soft-spoken and scarred recluse who appears in town only at the change of seasons, brings Emaleen back to safety when she gets lost in the woods. Most people avoid him, but to Birdie, he represents everything she’s ever longed for. She finds herself falling for Arthur and the land he knows so well.

Against the warnings of those who care about them, Birdie and Emaleen move to his isolated cabin in the mountains, on the far side of the Wolverine River.

It’s just the three of them in the vast black woods, far from roads, telephones, electricity, and outside contact, but Birdie believes she has come prepared. At first, it’s idyllic and she can picture a happily ever after: Together they catch salmon, pick berries, and climb mountains so tall it’s as if they could touch the bright blue sky. But soon Birdie discovers that Arthur is something much more mysterious and dangerous than she could have ever imagined, and that like the Alaska wilderness, a fairy tale can be as dark as it is beautiful.

Black Woods, Blue Sky is a novel with life-and-death stakes, about the love between a mother and daughter, and the allure of a wild life—about what we gain and what it might cost us.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Birdie knew her mistake as soon as she cracked open her eyes. She was wholly sick, like she had the flu or been clubbed all around her head and body and, in the confines of the one-room cabin, she was increasingly aware of her own stink, how her skin was emanating the odor of cigarette smoke, digested alcohol, and vomit. She slid her arm out from under her daughter’s head, and Emaleen rolled onto her other side but didn’t wake. Little Emaleen, with her messy blond hair and her warm, pink cheeks—Birdie wanted to cuddle with her and go back to sleep. But the pounding in her head was only getting worse. She eased into a sitting position on the side of the bed and slowly stood up. A cold sweat trickled down the small of her back and from her armpits. She put a hand on the wall when it felt like her knees might go out from under her. When she looked down, she saw she was still wearing her same blue jeans and T-shirt.

The Wolverine Lodge had been packed last night. A dozen or so of the regulars had driven from Alpine and Stone Creek, a couple of long-haul truckers had stopped for the night, and Charlie Coldfoot and his buddies had come out from Anchorage on their Harleys for the first ride of the season. Nearly twenty people crowded into the small roadside bar for no other reason than to chase away the darkness. The jukebox played Billy Idol and Emmylou Harris. Outside, the spring puddles had iced up and a light snow had fallen across the mountains, but Birdie remembered feeling on fire. Her hips brushed against the men’s legs as she handed out shots of hard liquor and cold bottles of beer. Everything she’d said, everything she’d done, had been effortless and flawless, like she was a perfect flame dancing across the wooden tables, a touch of heat reflected in the men’s faces. The music rose up into her feet through the plank floor. She’d let Roy twirl her like a ballerina. Even Della had laughed. Every single one of them—the entire goddamned world—golden and beautiful.

It was tempting to blame it on Roy, but it wasn’t a big deal, the cocaine. In fact, she’d hardly gotten a rush from it, so she and Roy had gone back a few more times. Each time they tumbled with laughter out of the bathroom, Della was watching them, unsmiling from behind the bar. Birdie remembered her tongue and nose going numb. Then even her teeth, so that her face felt like it belonged to someone else. It wasn’t the coke that tripped her up, though, as much as the drinking. It was as if she had been granted a superpower—the ability to down tequila like it was water.

And that’s when she’d made her mistake. She hadn’t stopped. When she should have called it a night, counted her tips and helped Della hustle everyone out of the bar, instead she had doubled down. True, she’d been goaded by Coldfoot or somebody calling her a lightweight, and the coke made it tricky to judge just how drunk she was getting. But the real problem was her bizarre sense of hope. Maybe, somehow, this time, she would be able to suspend herself in that perfect moment when you’ve had enough to fly, but not so much as to be sick with yourself.

In the cabin bathroom, Birdie put her lips to the faucet and drank several gulps of water and splashed some on her face. She needed a shower and a cup of hot coffee. First, she picked up her lighter and pack of cigarettes from the dresser and stepped outside in her bare feet. The single wooden step was cold and damp with dew. She folded…