Words in Deep Blue
A Novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
In this beautiful love story from the author of "Graffiti Moon, " two teens find their way back to each other in a bookstore full of secrets and crushes, grief and hope--and letters hidden between the pages./16.
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In this beautiful love story from the author of "Graffiti Moon, " two teens find their way back to each other in a bookstore full of secrets and crushes, grief and hope--and letters hidden between the pages./16.Lese-Probe zu „Words in Deep Blue “
RachelI open my eyes at midnight to the sound of the ocean and my brother s breathing. It s been ten months since Cal drowned, but the dreams still escape.
I m confident in the dreams, liquid with the sea. I m breathing underwater, eyes open and unstung by salt. I see fish, a school of silver--bellied moons thrumming beneath me. Cal appears, ready to identify, but these aren t fish we know. Mackerel, he says, his words escaping in bubbles that I can hear. But the fish aren t mackerel. Not bream, not any of the names we offer. They re pure silver. An unidentified species, we say as we watch them fold and unfold around us. The water has the texture of sadness: salt and heat and memory.
Cal is in the room when I wake. He s milky--skinned in the darkness, dripping of ocean. Impossible, but so real I smell salt and apple gum. So real I see the scar on his right foot -a long--healed cut from glass on the beach. He s talking about the dream fish: pure silver, unidentified, and gone.
The room is dark except for the moonlight. I feel through the air for the dream, but instead I touch the ears of Cal s Labrador, Woof. He follows me everywhere since the funeral, a long line of black I can t shake.
Usually, he sleeps on the end of my bed or in the doorway of my room, but for the last two nights he s slept in front of my packed suitcases. I can t take him with me. You re an ocean dog. I run my finger along his nose. You d go mad in the city.
There s no sleeping after dreams of Cal, so I pull on clothes and climb out the window. The moon is three--quarters empty. The air is as hot as day. I mowed late yesterday, so I collect warm blades of grass on the soles of my feet as I move.
Woof and I get to the beach quickly. There s almost nothing between our house and the water. There s the road, a
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small stretch of scrub, and then dunes. The night is all tangle and smell. Salt and tree; smoke from a fire far up the beach. It s all memory, too. Summer swimming and night walks, hunts for fig shells and blennies and starfish.
Farther, toward the lighthouse, there s the spot where the beaked whale washed ashore: a giant at six meters, the right side of its face pressed against sand, its one visible eye open. There was a crowd of people around it later -scientists and locals studying and staring. But first there was Mum and Cal and me in the early cold. I was nine years old, and with its long beak it looked to me like it was half sea creature, half bird. I wanted to study the deep water it had come from, the things it might have seen. Cal and I spent the day looking through Mum s books and on the internet. The beaked whale is considered one of the least understood creatures of the sea, I copied into my journal. They live at depths so deep that the pressure could kill.
I don t believe in ghosts or past lives or time travel or any of the strange things that Cal liked to read about. But every time I stand on the beach, I wish us back -to the day of the whale, to any day before Cal died. With what I know, I d be ready. I d save him.
It s late, but there ll be people from school out, so I walk farther up to a quiet spot. I dig myself into the dunes, burying my legs past my hips, and stare at the water. It s shot with moon, silver leaking all over the surface.
I ve tried and tried to stop thinking about the day Cal drowned, but I can t. I hear his words. I hear his footsteps through the sand. I see him diving: a long, frail arc that disappears into sea.
Farther, toward the lighthouse, there s the spot where the beaked whale washed ashore: a giant at six meters, the right side of its face pressed against sand, its one visible eye open. There was a crowd of people around it later -scientists and locals studying and staring. But first there was Mum and Cal and me in the early cold. I was nine years old, and with its long beak it looked to me like it was half sea creature, half bird. I wanted to study the deep water it had come from, the things it might have seen. Cal and I spent the day looking through Mum s books and on the internet. The beaked whale is considered one of the least understood creatures of the sea, I copied into my journal. They live at depths so deep that the pressure could kill.
I don t believe in ghosts or past lives or time travel or any of the strange things that Cal liked to read about. But every time I stand on the beach, I wish us back -to the day of the whale, to any day before Cal died. With what I know, I d be ready. I d save him.
It s late, but there ll be people from school out, so I walk farther up to a quiet spot. I dig myself into the dunes, burying my legs past my hips, and stare at the water. It s shot with moon, silver leaking all over the surface.
I ve tried and tried to stop thinking about the day Cal drowned, but I can t. I hear his words. I hear his footsteps through the sand. I see him diving: a long, frail arc that disappears into sea.
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Autoren-Porträt von Cath Crowley
Cath Crowley
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Cath Crowley
- Altersempfehlung: Ab 14 Jahre
- 2018, 288 Seiten, Masse: 20,8 x 13,9 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Ember
- ISBN-10: 110193767X
- ISBN-13: 9781101937679
- Erscheinungsdatum: 18.09.2018
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
"Original, wise, and essential. . . . This love story is an ode to words and life." Kirkus Reviews, starred review "This poignant tale exquisitely chronicles the journey from hopelessness to learning to live again." School Library Journal, starred review
"...Crowley has built a warm cast of surprising and memorable characters and placed them in universal circumstances that slowly unfold into something extraordinary." Booklist, starred review
"Reading Words in Deep Blue feels a little bit like a slow dance, or falling in love, or swimming in the ocean on a rainy day. It's a stunning reminder of the power of words and books and stories that will leave your heart full and heavy and hungry for more. Cath Crowley is magic." Krystal Sutherland, author of Our Chemical Hearts
"A big-hearted, stunner of a novel. Cath Crowley's gorgeous prose will make you both tear up and swoon. A beautifully honest meditation on grief and love. Jasmine Warga, author of My Heart and Other Black Holes
"Words In Deep Blue is beautifully written. Laced with humor and poignancy, tragedy and joy, this story will break your heart and then piece it back together." Emma Mills, author of First & Then and This Adventure Ends
Praise for Graffiti Moon:
The character development is strong. . . . It s the kind of night you dream about, but it s very much grounded in reality. Buzzfeed.com
Laced with humor and sadness, longing and joy, this slice of life is satisfying and hopeful. Booklist
Richly and affectingly expressed. . . . [An] engrossing story with credible complexity. Publishers Weekly
An ALA-YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults Book
A Chicago Public Library Best of the Best Book for Teens
Praise for A Little Wanting Song:
Give this
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incredible, satisfying book to fans of Sarah Dessen, Karen Foxlee, Melina Marchetta actually, give it to any teen girl who longs a little and feels too much. . . . Unforgettable. School Library Journal, starred review
Crowley captures quiet moments with aching beauty and tenderness; her empathy for teen girls recalls Deb Caletti and Sarah Dessen. Booklist
An ALA-YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults Book
Crowley captures quiet moments with aching beauty and tenderness; her empathy for teen girls recalls Deb Caletti and Sarah Dessen. Booklist
An ALA-YALSA Best Fiction for Young Adults Book
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