The Stone Diaries: 15th Anniversary Edition (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

The Stone Diaries: 15th Anniversary Edition (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

Carol Shields

Language: English

Pages: 221

ISBN: 2:00361558

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


In celebration of the fifteenth anniversary of its original publication, Carol Shields's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel is now available in a Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition

One of the most successful and acclaimed novels of our time, this fictionalized autobiography of Daisy Goodwill Flett is a subtle but affecting portrait of an everywoman reflecting on an unconventional life. What transforms this seemingly ordinary tale is the richness of Daisy's vividly described inner life--from her earliest memories of her adoptive mother to her awareness of impending death.

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that when he might have chosen the fence-post just as well. And that wagon, all broken down and shabby, so that it hardly deserved to be called a wagon, the way it rattles, and creaks as it jerks along its way, scattering the very crows in the fields. His arrival is everywhere dreaded, for almost invariably he asks for the refreshment of coffee or a swallow of cold water, and then there are the cups and glassware to be scalded after him. Traveling in winter, in the remote countryside around

like one person sitting around in the same body, breathing in the same wafts of air and coming out with the same larky thoughts. This has been going on forever, all the years they were at Tudor Hall in Indianapolis, and then going off to Long College together, and pledging the same sorority and getting their diplomas on the same June morning. And whenever Daisy stops and thinks about her honeymoon, about actually standing in front of the Eiffel Tower or the Roman Coliseum, she always somehow

Bank Building, her head striking the edge of the corner stone. If only that stone had been rounded, but, alas, it was sharp as a knife. My life has been altered as a result. I’ve prayed to my Lord, I’ve tried in my way to serve others, and I’ve thought long and hard about a suitable monument.” (Here he pulled out a handkerchief that was truly snowy, and blew into its starched folds a loud, prideful honk.) “Always, always I came back to the fact that your mother had loved flowers. You might say

fertilizers too. Yours, Doris Griswold P.S. I’m with you one hundred percent on the question of pastels mixed with pures. Climax, Saskatchewan, June 25, 1955 Dear Auntie, I’ve been keeping my fingers crossed for a letter from you, but the days go by and no luck so far. I guess, truth to tell, I’m getting sort of nervous, and the reason is, I might as well tell you straight out, I’m in the family way, only nobody around here knows about it, especially my folks who would go up in smoke if

despair. She cooks herself a proper dinner, doesn’t she?—a chop or a chicken breast, green vegetables. She doesn’t take pills; she doesn’t hear noises. She does lie on her bed, though, in the early morning, her eyes turned toward the window, staring at the hard Florida light that creeps in between the slats of her blinds, and feeling its unforgiving brilliance. Sometimes she bunches her fists; sometimes tears crowd her eyes as she lies there thinking: another day, another day, and attempting to

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