New York: The Novel

New York: The Novel

Edward Rutherfurd

Language: English

Pages: 880

ISBN: 0345497422

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Winner of the David J. Langum, Sr., Prize in American Historical Fiction
Named one of the best books of the year by The Washington Post and “Required Reading” by the New York Post

Edward Rutherfurd celebrates America’s greatest city in a rich, engrossing saga, weaving together tales of families rich and poor, native-born and immigrant—a cast of fictional and true characters whose fates rise and fall and rise again with the city’s fortunes. From this intimate perspective we see New York’s humble beginnings as a tiny Indian fishing village, the arrival of Dutch and British merchants, the Revolutionary War, the emergence of the city as a great trading and financial center, the convulsions of the Civil War, the excesses of the Gilded Age, the explosion of immigration in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the trials of World War II, the near demise of New York in the 1970s and its roaring rebirth in the 1990s, and the attack on the World Trade Center. A stirring mix of battle, romance, family struggles, and personal triumphs, New York: The Novel gloriously captures the search for freedom and opportunity at the heart of our nation’s history.

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a boat to her, she had almost lost her breath, but she’d kept quite still so he shouldn’t notice. On the way back, he’d mentioned that the next time they got together, there was a young lady that he’d like them all to meet. And Gretchen had whispered to her that she already knew that Hans and the girl were likely to get married. So after Mary had smiled and said she looked forward to it, and overcome the sudden cold sensation in her stomach, she’d told herself that she was glad, and happy for

important even than that. So he was anxious to complete the errand as quickly as possible. It had been his mother’s idea to send him to the priest’s house. Not their own parish priest, but the silver-haired old man who’d come to say Mass in their church the week before. And where did he live? In the Jewish quarter, of all places. It wasn’t far. You only had to cross the Bowery and you were in it—the Lower East Side’s tenth and thirteenth wards, which ran across to the river just below the old

and I’m certainly not going to stop listening to Beethoven or reading Goethe and Schiller because of the war. That would be absurd. Why, I even speak German.” “Really?” said William. “Yes. My father could hardly speak a word, but a few years ago I got interested in German literature and wanted to read it in the original, so I started taking lessons. I speak it almost fluently now.” From there the conversation turned to the temperance movement, which had been becoming increasingly strident

you,” he said. “And clever,” he added. “Charlie was really grateful, you know.” “Well, I’m glad,” she said. The time had come. Everything that had been said at the dinner just strengthened her resolve all the more. “William, my dear,” she said gently, “I need you to do something for me.” “Anything.” “I want to do some work on the Newport cottage. I want to make it really special.” “You have a decorator in mind?” “Actually, dear, I’m going to need an architect. And I’m going to need some

book, but felt too light. He opened it carefully. Then stared, amazed. It was a drawing by Robert Motherwell. “I thought it might go over there,” she said, and pointed to a space on the living-room wall. “If you like it, that is,” she added. “Like it?” He was still staring at the drawing, almost unable to speak. It was a simple abstract, black on white, which reminded him of a piece of Chinese calligraphy. And so beautiful. “Don’t move,” she said, and taking the drawing from him, she went

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