Barbara Goodson - Audiobook

Transcript

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Barbara Goodson. Smilla's Sense of Snow By Peter Hogue When the first large shipments of Greenland has began arriving in Denmark in the 19 thirties, one of the first things they wrote home was that Danes of such pigs, they keep dogs in their houses for a moment. I think it's a dog lying on the stairs. Then I see that it's a child in on this particular day, that is not much better. Beat it, you little ****, I say. Isaiah looks up beat, he says. Beat it yourself. There aren't many Danes who can tell by looking at me. They think there's a trace of something Asian, especially when I put a shadow under my cheekbones. But the boy on the stairs looks right at me with a gaze that cuts straight through to what he and I have in common. It's the kind of look you see in newborns. Later it vanishes, sometimes reappearing in extremely old people. This could be one reason I never burdened my life with Children. I thought too much about why people lose the courage to look each other in the eye. Will you read me a story? I have a book in my hand. That's what prompted his question. He might say that he looks like a forest elf, but since he is filthy dressed only in underpants and glistening with sweat, you might also say he looks like a seal pup. **** off, I say. Don't you like kids? I eat kids. He steps aside so you would eat your lying, he says, Is I go past. At that moment, I see two things in him that somehow link us together. I see that he is alone the way someone in exile will always be. And I see that he's not afraid of solitude. What's the book? He shots after me? You cleanse elements, I say. Slamming the door. The Smart Girl's Guide to Sports by Liz Hartman. MUSIC ER Hockey, Marshmallow Men or hockey hotties? One thing that distinguishes hockey players from other pro athletes is that they were these big, puffy Pillsbury Doughboy style costumes. I mean, uniforms starting from the top down. They were a helmet, shoulder pads, elbow pads, a girdle, not the kind that makes the tummy look smaller. These padded girdles protect the hips, size and kidneys Gloves. An athletic supporter with protective cup and shin guards. Those are just the basics. The goaltenders were even Mawr equipment about £20 more, including large shin pads that can be up to nearly a foot wide. Hockey players have to wear all this because without a lot of padding, Ah, puck travelling at, say, 105 miles an hour becomes a lethal weapon. In fact, there have been a few major mishaps with fans in the stands that have resulted in death. But I'll say that for the depressed girl's guide to the dark side of everything, the real tragedy is that because of the padding, we can't see who's buff and who is not among the players, although we can safely assume that they are all in fantastic shape, since they skate at remarkable speeds and take very rough hits continually. If you're particularly found of the scarred bad boy look, hockey players are for you. Off course. The scars might be accompanied by toothless nous, which isn't cute, passed the third grade, but maybe you're into that sort of thing to so motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem. Come here, Lionel, she said without turning around. Zip me up as I reached out, I was compelled to tap each of her shoulders twice. Gently. She didn't seem to mind. Then I took hold of the zipper tab, eased it upward. I kept hold of the tab halfway up a back. Don't stop, she said. Sexual excitement stills my Tourette's brain Not by numbing me dimming the world like or apple Klonopin, those muffling medications but instead by setting up a deeper attentiveness in May. Ah, fine of vibration, which gathers and encompasses might urgent chaos enlisted in a greater course, like a chorus of voices, somehow drawing a shriek in the harmony, I'm still myself and still in myself, a rare and precious combination. Yes, I like sex very much. I don't get it very often. When I do, I find I want to slow it down to a crawl. Live in that place, get to meet my still self, give him a little time to look around. Instead, I'm hurried along by the conventional urgencies by those awkward, alcohol fueled juxtapositions of persons that have so far provided my few glimpses of arousal. Slaven. But oh, if I could have just spent a week. So with my hands on Julia's breasts then I could think straight. Heidi, by Joanna Spire E. Peter felt quite giddy at the thought of being able to have anything he wanted the annual fair. It may infield flashed before his eyes with all the beautiful things he had admired so often and never hope to possess. They were the red whistles which could use for his goats and the fascinating knives. Peter was deeply absorbed in his thoughts and could not decide which of the two he would like the better. Suddenly he had a brainwave, a penny, he said. The grand mama left. That is not an extravagant fish, he said. Come here. She pulled out her purse and took from it. Four bright round shillings, and on top of them she put four pennies. Here are just as many pennies as they are weeks in the year, and so you will be able to spend a penny every week for whole year All my life? Asked Peter innocently. Oh, yes, my boy, that passage for my ville, said the old lady. Have you put it down? A penny of it to Peter, as long as he lives, Hair, Sesame nodded his agreement and laughed too. Peter looked once more at the present in his hand. He still could hardly believe his eyes. Then he said, God bless you and off he went running and leaping. All fear and anxiety gone after dinner. Clara took her father aside and said to him, If you only knew Papa, what the grandfather has done for me, I shall never forget it all my life. And I keep wondering, What could I give him or do for him that would give him half the pleasure he has given me? That is my dearest wish to come, my child. Let us ask him, he replied. No, listen.