Goat Woman of Largo Bay

Zusatztext [Royes] does an outstanding job of creating a small Jamaican village it is so vivid that the reader feels part of the environment and deftly shows the social and political life on the island. The novel is an absorbing read and one that won't be forgotten quickly. Barbara Cothern! Portland Book Review Informationen zum Autor Gillian Royes Klappentext Royes begins the detective series featuring Shad, a bartender in a fishing village in Jamaica, who is the community problem-solver and right hand of Eric, an American who owns the bar and a hotel left in ruins by a hurricane. 320 pp. 30,000 print. The Goat Woman of Largo Bay CHAPTER ONE At first he thought she was a goat. Staring at the distant spot, Shad decided there was something about goats that had always irritated him. Nobody liked them, even if they were as common to Largo as fishing boats. But they were rude animals facety, his grandmother used to call theminvading your yard to eat your young tomatoes and glaring when you tried to shoo them away. The thought came only a minute after Eric had shouted his name and Shad had placed the glass he'd been wiping on a shelf and hurried around the counter of the bar. What happening, boss? he'd said. There's something on the island! Eric, his T-shirt and shorts flattened by the sea breeze, was pointing toward the tiny offshore island. I don't see nothing. Shad had squinted at the lump of rocks and its lone tree. Probably just a bird, or a shadow. I'm telling you, there's something out there. A tall man with the red-brown skin of a northerner who'd been in the tropics too long, Eric was standing statue-still, knees bent, a few feet from the edge of the cliff. Every part of him, the outstretched arm holding a pipe, the swirling white hair, the small paunch even, strained toward the island. Atop the five steps leading down to the grass, Shad had shielded his eyes against the setting sun. Golden-orange, the island looked like a prodigal son sitting a quarter mile offshore. The water that separated it from the cliff was striped turquoise and aqua, long waves rolling toward the shore, forever restless without a protective reef. I see it, Shad said. I told you so, Eric said, and straightened. What do you think it is? Look like a goat, boss. Eric agreed, because Shadrack Myers was known in Largo Bay as a smart-man , in the best sense of the term. He might be small and wiry, they said, but he was as bright as any Kingston professor and as wily as Anansi, the spider of the folk tales. The reason for this, according to the old ladies, was that he was born with a high forehead and the blackest skin a man could have. Who'd put a damn goat out there? Eric asked. It only take one renegade to cause confusion, Shad said. And the renegade knew that Eric wouldn't do anything, because a foreign man couldn't afford to make a fuss in a small Jamaican village. Why would they want to do that? Eric said, and put his hands on his hips. Probably to separate it from the herd. Must be sick. Sick? They can't just take a sick goat out and leave it. Don't they know the place is mine? Eric said, and raised his arms to heaven just as Shad turned away. Few people other than Eric noticed the little island anymore, and Shad tried to see it the way his neighbors did, as nothing more than background wallpaper, like the tall mountains behind the village. Looking at the roofless, paint-stripped walls on the island only left a sweet-and-sour feeling in his stomach. Behind the counter, Shad cut limes into thin slices and prodded the last of the cherries ...

[Royes] does an outstanding job of creating a small Jamaican village – it is so vivid that the reader feels part of the environment – and deftly shows the social and political life on the island. The novel is an absorbing read and one that won’t be forgotten quickly.

–Barbara Cothern, Portland Book Review

Auteur

Gillian Royes

Texte du rabat

Royes begins the detective series featuring Shad, a bartender in a fishing village in Jamaica, who is the community problem-solver and right hand of Eric, an American who owns the bar and a hotel left in ruins by a hurricane. 320 pp. 30,000 print.

Résumé
The Goat Woman of Largo Bay begins the detective series featuring Shad, a bartender in a fishing village in Jamaica, who is the community problem solver and right hand of Eric, an American who owns the bar and a hotel left in ruins by a hurricane.

When Shad sees movement on the island offshore, he thinks it’s just a goat. But it turns out to be Simone, an American who has run away from her professional and personal life in the U.S., an intriguing woman who captures Eric's heart. Always keeping his ear to the ground, Shad discovers that a gunshot heard near Simone’s place late one night isn’t exactly friendly fire, rather it’s tied to a plot to harm Simone and ultimately manipulate local elections. But why does someone want to harm Simone? And what does she have to do with the elections? Only Shad can find out.

An irresistible character is born in The Goat Woman of Largo Bay and Royes wonderfully blends suspense and the soul of the islands in this smart debut.

Échantillon de lecture
The Goat Woman of Largo Bay

CHAPTER ONE

At first he thought she was a goat. Staring at the distant spot, Shad decided there was something about goats that had always irritated him. Nobody liked them, even if they were as common to Largo as fishing boats. But they were rude animals—facety, his grandmother used to call them—invading your yard to eat your young tomatoes and glaring when you tried to shoo them away.

The thought came only a minute after Eric had shouted his name and Shad had placed the glass he’d been wiping on a shelf and hurried around the counter of the bar.

“What happening, boss?” he’d said.

“There’s something on the island!” Eric, his T-shirt and shorts flattened by the sea breeze, was pointing toward the tiny offshore island.

“I don’t see nothing.” Shad had squinted at the lump of rocks and its lone tree. “Probably just a bird, or a shadow.”

“I’m telling you, there’s something out there.”

A tall man with the red-brown skin of a northerner who’d been in the tropics too long, Eric was standing statue-still, knees bent, a few feet from the edge of the cliff. Every part of him, the outstretched arm holding a pipe, the swirling white hair, the small paunch even, strained toward the island.

Atop the five steps leading down to the grass, Shad had shielded his eyes against the setting sun. Golden-orange, the island looked like a prodigal son sitting a quarter mile offshore. The water that separated it from the cliff was striped turquoise and aqua, long waves rolling toward the shore, forever restless without a protective reef.

“I see it,” Shad said.

“I told you so,” Eric said, and straightened. “What do you think it is?”

“Look like a goat, boss.”

Eric agreed, because Shadrack Myers was known in Largo Bay as a smart-man, in the best sense of the term. He might be small and wiry, they said, but he was as bright as any Kingston professor and as wily as Anansi, the spider of the folk tales. The reason for this, according to the old ladies, was that he was born with a high forehead and the blackest skin a man could have.

“Who’d put a damn goat out there?” Eric asked.

“It only take one renegade to cause confusion,” Shad said. And the renegade knew that Eric wouldn’t do anything, because a foreign man couldn’t afford to make a fuss in a small Jamaican village.

“Why would they want to do that?” Eric said, and put his hands on his hips.

&…