By David Plante
An unique and radiant novel approximately grief, obsession, and the necessity for which means from the writer of The Family, a finalist for the nationwide publication Award.When his younger son dies in a freak twist of fate, Gerard struggles to discover a cause within the smallest of information, together with the scrap of paper containing the Sanskrit alphabet that's came upon on the website. Latching directly to this ultimate “clue,” he delves into the origins of Indo-European alphabets, his fascination taking him to England, Greece, and eventually, to an old website within the Syrian wasteland the place the alphabet was once born a few 4000 years in the past. alongside the best way he meets different grieving mom and dad, who accompany him on a trip that extends past ancient wisdom and correct into the center of affection and loss.
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Extra resources for ABC
Slade awoke her headache was gone; she remained lying stretched out on the seat. Just after sunset, when they were scarcely an hour from the capital, the ticket collector came in, and she sat upright. The man went back out into the corridor and shut the door. Still they did not speak, their heads nodding with the movement of the train as they looked out at the red landscape and the coming of dusk across it. " Mrs. " She shook her head with impatience. "I don't know any more than you do about it.
It was still night-the same night; her stomach burned and her head ached. Dr. Slade was knocking on the door. Suddenly she was fearful that Mrs. Rainmantle 38 would waken. She put her face near the panel of the door and said calmly, "Yes. " It stopped the knocking, and she heard him go back into his room. A moment later she hurried out toward the bathroom, cursing the plants as they rubbed against her face in the dark. Even before she got to the end of the balcony she realized that she was not going to take a shower.
Dr. Slade was knocking on the door. Suddenly she was fearful that Mrs. Rainmantle 38 would waken. She put her face near the panel of the door and said calmly, "Yes. " It stopped the knocking, and she heard him go back into his room. A moment later she hurried out toward the bathroom, cursing the plants as they rubbed against her face in the dark. Even before she got to the end of the balcony she realized that she was not going to take a shower. There would be nowhere to put the flashlight; it would get wet or fall off onto the floor, and she would be there in the dark with the water running over her.
ABC by David Plante