Download Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe PDF

By Thomas Wolfe

The vintage first novel from certainly one of America's maximum males of letters
"I don't be aware of but what i'm able to doing," wrote Thomas Wolfe on the age of twenty-three, "but, by way of God, i've got genius -- i do know it too good to blush at the back of it." Six years later, with the ebook of Look Homeward, Angel, Wolfe gave the area evidence of his genius, and he might proceed to take action all through his tumultuous existence.
Look Homeward, Angel is the coming-of-age tale of Eugene Gant, whose restlessness and craving to adventure existence to the fullest take him from his rural domestic in North Carolina to Harvard. via his wealthy, ornate prose and meticulous recognition to element, Wolfe inspires the peculiarities of small-town lifestyles and the ache and upheaval of leaving domestic. seriously autobiographical, Look Homeward, Angel is Wolfe's such a lot turbulent and passionate paintings, and a super novel of lasting effect.

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Example text

Now this is a very subtle tie. . " He taught m e the principal classifications: rep tie, neat tie, paisley tie. And the tie I wore for the job interview at the company o n the mezzanine w a s one he had pulled from a doorknob: it was made of a silk that verged o n crepe, and its pattern was composed of very small oval shapes, each containing a fascinating blob motif that seemed inspired by the hungry, pulsating amoebas that absorbed excess stomach acid in Rolaids' great dripping-faucet commercial, and w h e n you looked closely you noticed that the perimeter of each oval w a s made of surprisingly garishly colored rectangles, like suburban tract houses; a border so small in scale, however, that those instances of brightness only contrib­ uted a secret depth and luminosity to the overall somber, old-masters color­ ation of the design.

Right w h e n I suddenly h a d m o r e blue sky in front of m e t h a n green truck, I remembered that w h e n I was little I used to be very interested in the fact that anything, no matter h o w rough, rusted, dirty, or otherwise discredited it was, looked good if you set it d o w n o n a stretch of white cloth, or any kind of clean background. The thought came to m e with just that prefix: " w h e n I w a s little," along with the sight of a certain rusted railroad spike I h a d found a n d placed on an expanse of garage concrete that I h a d carefully swept smooth.

S apartment. I w a s extremely cheerful, and after a few m i n u t e s of reading, I stood u p with the decision that I w o u l d clean m y r o o m . , or the depressed w o m a n at work, did next. They swept. In the kitchen closet I found a practically n e w b r o o m (not o n e of the contemporary designs, with synthetic bristles uniformly cut at a n angle, but one just like the kind I h a d g r o w n u p with, with blond smocked twigs b o u n d to a blue h a n d l e by perfectly w r a p p e d silver wire) that o n e of m y h o u s e m a t e s h a d bought.

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