undrgrnd Cliquez ici Toys NEWNEEEW nav-sa-clothing-shoes Cloud Drive Photos FIFA16 cliquez_ici Shop Fire HD 6 Shop Kindle Paperwhite cliquez_ici Jeux Vidéo
Swim Back to Me et plus d'un million d'autres livres sont disponibles pour le Kindle d'Amazon. En savoir plus
  • Tous les prix incluent la TVA.
Il ne reste plus que 2 exemplaire(s) en stock (d'autres exemplaires sont en cours d'acheminement).
Expédié et vendu par Amazon.
Emballage cadeau disponible.
Quantité :1
Swim Back to Me a été ajouté à votre Panier
+ EUR 2,99 (livraison)
D'occasion: Bon | Détails
Vendu par BetterWorldBooksFr
État: D'occasion: Bon
Commentaire: Ships from the UK. Former Library book. Shows some signs of wear, and may have some markings on the inside. 100% Money Back Guarantee. Your purchase also supports literacy charities.
Vous l'avez déjà ?
Repliez vers l'arrière Repliez vers l'avant
Ecoutez Lecture en cours... Interrompu   Vous écoutez un extrait de l'édition audio Audible
En savoir plus
Voir les 2 images

Swim Back to Me (Anglais) Broché – 8 mai 2012

Voir les formats et éditions Masquer les autres formats et éditions
Prix Amazon Neuf à partir de Occasion à partir de
Format Kindle
"Veuillez réessayer"
"Veuillez réessayer"
EUR 14,10
EUR 8,30 EUR 1,57
--Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Relié.

Livres anglais et étrangers
Lisez en version originale. Cliquez ici

Offres spéciales et liens associés

Descriptions du produit


Walk for Mankind •

September 1972. It was the first week of eighth grade, and I sat alone near the back of the school bus: a short, scrawny honor-roll boy with small hands and big ears. The route home meandered through Los Altos Hills, with its large houses sitting in the shadows of old oak trees and dense groves of eucalyptus. Finally we came down out of the hills and arrived in Stanford, where the last twenty or so of us lived, in houses built close together on land the University leased to its faculty. A couple of stops before mine, a clump of kids rose and moved up the aisle, and that’s when I saw her, a new girl sitting up near the front.

To my surprise, she shouldered her backpack at my stop. I waited until she was off the bus and then made my way up the aisle, keeping my eyes away from Bruce Cavanaugh and Tony Halpern, who’d been my friends back in elementary school. Down on the bright sidewalk, she was headed in the direction I had to go, and I followed after her, walking slowly so I wouldn’t overtake her. She was small-boned like me, with thick red hair spilling halfway down her back and covering part of her backpack, which was decorated with at least a dozen McGovern buttons, rather than the usual one or two. There was even a Nixon button with a giant red X drawn over his ugly face.

She stopped suddenly and turned, and I got my first glimpse of her face: pale and peppered with freckles. “Who are you?” she said.

“Sorry.” I was afraid she thought I was following her when I was just heading home.

She came forward and offered me her hand. “Hi, Sorry—I’m Sasha. Or maybe I should say ‘I’m New.’ We can call each other Sorry and New, and then when we get to know each other better we can switch to something else. Shy and Weird, maybe.”

I had never met anyone who talked like this, and it took me a moment to respond. “My name’s Richard.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know that. I didn’t mean who are you what’s your name—I meant who are you who are you. Your name is Richard Appleby and you live around the corner from me, in the house with all the ice plant.”

Now I got it: she was part of the family renting the Levines’ house. Teddy Levine was spending the year at the American Academy in Rome, and the Levine kids were going to go to some Italian school and come back fluent and probably strange. The Jacksons had spent a year in London, and afterward Helen Jackson had been such an oddball her parents had taken her out of public school.

The girl’s hand was still out, and though I’d never shaken hands with another kid before, I held mine out for her, and she pumped it up and down. She had blue-gray eyes with very light lashes, and a long, pointy noise.

“Sasha Horowitz,” she said. “Happy to know you. I was waiting for you to come over, but it’s just as well we met like this—if you’d come over I’d’ve probably been a freak. Plus my parents would’ve co-opted the whole thing. Do your parents do that? Co-opt everything? When I was really little my dad would always try to play with me and my friends—he’d give us rides on his back like a horse, and he’d kind of buck sometimes, and one time a friend of mine fell off and broke her wrist. Her parents were really overprotective—she was never allowed to come over again.” Still looking at me, Sasha shrugged off her backpack and ran her fingers through her heavy, carrot-colored hair. She gathered it into a thick ponytail and secured it with a rubber band from her wrist. She said, “There, that’s better. So do you love San Francisco? We had a picnic in Golden Gate Park on Saturday, and we saw a guy on an acid trip—my little brother thought he was in a play. The only thing is, I’m expecting to be miserable about missing winter.”

“Are you from somewhere cold?” I said. “Did you have snow?”

“New Haven. And God, yes—we had mountains of it. It was a huge pain in the ass. Do you want to come over? You should, because my mother’ll ask me to tell her about school otherwise and I really don’t feel like talking to her.”

She stood there looking at me, waiting for me to answer, and I thought of my mother, in her shabby apartment across the bay in Oakland, where she had lived alone for the last seven months, an exile of her own making. I looked at my watch. In two and a half hours my father would bike home from his office on campus, and after he’d had a drink we would sit down to a dinner that Gladys, our new housekeeper, had left us in the oven. Telling him about school was my job, just as asking about it was his.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll come over. For a little while.”

Within two weeks I had eaten dinner at Sasha’s house three times, had gone with her and her father to buy tiki lamps for the backyard, had driven to San Francisco with all four Horowitzes to have Sunday morning dim sum. On election night, the five of us squeezed onto the living room couch and yelled at the television set together. In December I ate my first ever potato latkes at their house, and on New Year’s weekend my father allowed me to skip a visit to my mother in favor of an expedition with the Horowitzes to Big Sur.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. That first day, once I was home again and my father and I were in the kitchen just before dinner, I found out what had brought Sasha’s family to Stanford. According to my father, her father had been denied tenure by the English Department at Yale and had accepted a one-year renewable appointment at Stanford—which, my father said, was “quite interesting.”

“Usually you’d stay on for a year or two, try to publish some work, get your CV in order, then go on the job market for a tenure track position somewhere else.” He paused and drew his lips into his mouth, as he often did in thoughtful moments. He was a straight-backed man with neat gray hair and hazel eyes: handsome enough. But when he did this thing with his mouth his chin took over, and he looked like a ventriloquist’s dummy.

He let his lips go. “Maybe there was some bad blood. There often is in a case like this.”

I said, “Maybe he just wanted to leave.” I had met him—Dan—on my way out, and he’d seemed far too friendly for whatever my father might have in mind. “Richard Appleby!” he’d said. “Excellent to meet you! Tell me, are the natives amicable? May we count on you for guidance? You must tell us what the customs are. The customs of the country. You’ll help us, won’t you? Correct our clothing, teach us the vernacular?” And all the while Sasha stood there rolling her eyes but unable to keep from smiling.

“I could ask Hugh Canfield,” my father said. Hugh Canfield was my father’s closest—really, his only—friend outside the History Department. They’d been at Princeton together. Hugh was chair of the English Department and therefore someone who’d have information about Dan.

“You don’t have to ask,” I said. “I don’t care.”

“No, of course not,” my father said. “Though it’s curious. To have been at Yale, he must be very promising.”

He was far more than promising to me. He was promise fulfilled, one of those people who makes the most ordinary occasion brilliant. Build a blanket fort in the living room, which Peter, Sasha’s little brother, loved to do? With Dan’s help we built Peter a blanket civilization, with a theater and a civic center and a mausoleum for Peter’s stuffed hippopotamus, whom we named Hippocritz, the Czar-King of Egypt-Arabia.

He was tall and skinny, Dan, with Sasha’s frizzy red hair and a great beak of a nose. He played endless games of Risk with us, literally yelling when he lost hold of a continent; and he was fond of showing up at our school at dismissal time with the car packed full of quilts and announcing that he was taking us to the beach to watch the sunset. Joanie, Sasha’s mother, possessed quieter charms, but she had a knack for making things special, too: on Halloween night, a little too old for trick-or-treating ourselves, we shepherded Peter around the neighborhood wearing caps she’d made for us, with badges that said “Official Halloween Escort—Will Say Yes to Candy.” At home, she did quick charcoal sketches of anyone who happened to be nearby, and when she thought they were good she wrote a caption on them and taped them to the kitchen walls. There were a lot of Sasha and Peter, of course, but within a few months there were a couple of me, too, one in which I was holding a deck of cards in my hand, labeled “The Schemer,” and another, in which I was looking off to the side, that said “Richard waiting.” “He looks like a retard in that one,” Sasha said. “Take it down.” But Joanie didn’t, and though I didn’t say so to Sasha, I was glad.

Sasha. She had a little of each parent in her, Dan’s gaiety, Joanie’s warmth, plus something essential and not altogether pleasant that was entirely hers, like a back note of pepper in a rich chocolate dessert. It was a quality that made her—that gave her permission to—insist on what she wanted. We played Truth or Dare a lot, and her dares invariably had me taking risks that just happened to have as their end points some small reward for her: a stolen candy bar, the details of an overheard—an eavesdropped-upon—conversation.

“Someone has a sweetheart,” Gladys said, but it wasn’t that. For one thing, we hardly spoke at school, Sasha having found a niche among some... --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Relié .

Revue de presse

Praise for Ann Packer’s Swim Back to Me
“As funny as it is sad. . . . Full of revelations . . . near perfection. . . . [A] lovely, masterful collection.”
—Mameve Medwed, Boston Globe
“Most readers know Ann Packer from her best-selling debut novel. Swim Back to Me is even better, richer, more insightful. Packer can break your heart—and she can mend it, too. Easing readers in with recognizable characters facing familiar situations . . . she then injects a detail that makes us see the situations in a whole new light. . . . This fine work [is] surprising and absolutely true.”
—Karen Holt, O, The Oprah Magazine

“Astute. . . . Anyone intrigued by the ways we both fail and save one another will find ample food for thought here.”
—Kim Hubbard, People
“Ann Packer has a talent for creating authentic, absorbing characters—and it’s on full display in Swim Back to Me.’
Ladies’ Home Journal
“[Packer] illuminates the instant, in the darkest hour of grief, when the heart opens wider than ever before—and shows us a new way of being.”
—Pam Houston, More
“A novella and five stories limn with acuity and empathy the intricate negotiations and painful losses of family life. . . . [Packer’s] prose is deceptively simple, her insights always complex. . . . Touching, tender and true. . . . As rich and satisfying as Packer’s two fine novels.”
Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“[A] sterling collection. . . . Packer’s talents are evident. . . . Packer presents complex human relationships with unsentimental compassion.”
Publishers Weekly
“Stunning. . . . Well-crafted and engaging. . . . These California stories are expansive and open-ended. It’s hard to let them go.”
—Sue Russell, Library Journal

Praise for Songs Without Words
“Packer’s voice [has] extraordinary authority . . . Compassionate, rich in solace.”
—Liesl Schillinger, The New York Times Book Review
“Engrossing, forgiving and quietly wise, Songs Without Words never makes a false step as Packer keeps both the pages and her readers’ minds turning until the very end.”
—Jill Smolowe, People
“As in The Dive from Clausen’s Pier, Packer makes the ripples from one act so involving you can’t pull away.”
Good Housekeeping

Praise for The Dive from Clausen’s Pier
“Ann Packer knows just how to make a story build: the novel reveals a sure sense of pace and pitch, a brilliant ear for character . . . She has brought to intractable questions the energy of a humane novel that possesses, at its center, a searching emotional generosity.”
—Rob Nixon, The New York Times Book Review
“An intricately detailed, deeply felt, compelling and ultimately surprising portrait of a young woman . . . [whose] struggles with the demands of loyalty are moving and realistic . . . [A] wonderfully satisfying novel.”
—Jane Ciabattari, San Francisco Chronicle
“The trick to what Ms. Packer does lies in the utterly lifelike quality of her book’s everyday detail, and the secret, graceful ways in which that detail becomes revealing. . . . Her ear for dialogue is unerring.”
—Janet Maslin, The New York Times --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Relié .

Détails sur le produit

En savoir plus sur l'auteur

Découvrez des livres, informez-vous sur les écrivains, lisez des blogs d'auteurs et bien plus encore.

Commentaires en ligne

Il n'y a pas encore de commentaires clients sur Amazon.fr
5 étoiles
4 étoiles
3 étoiles
2 étoiles
1 étoiles

Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta)

Amazon.com: 48 commentaires
31 internautes sur 32 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Top Ten Things That are Great About "Swim Back to Me" 7 avril 2011
Par E. Burian-Mohr - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Relié Commentaire client Vine pour produit gratuit ( De quoi s'agit-il? )
"Swim Back to Me" is Ann Packer's new collection, featuring a novella and short stories. I am not usually a fan of short stories (I always want more), and Packer's structuring of the book satisfied that urge. Others have synopsized the 6 pieces, so I won't be redundant. Instead, here are the top ten things that are great about "Swim Back to Me."

10. Having spent my high school years in Palo Alto, in the late 60s, her descriptions of the place and time were spot-on. She captured the high schoolers trying to blend in with the Stanford students, the geography, the different areas of the town, the feel of the seasons, and the often effete snobbery of the professorial families. When she described an Eichler house, I knew I had been transported back in time.

9. Packer has conceived great characters, from angst-ridden teens to grieving mothers to narcissistic fathers to new fathers and loud-mouthed partners. Everyone in the stories has a unique personality with unique quirks.

8. Having just finished a book in which the death of an infant turned a family to a lifetime of alcoholism and despair, it was refreshing to see a woman move on after such an event, still cherish her lost baby, but move forward to love her new infant. I needed to hear that this was possible.

7. Best/worst description of a bladder infection. I hadn't read that before.

6. There are characters that come out of nowhere, for no apparent reason, yet stand out like jewels in the narrative: a man along the Walk for Mankind route, a mother of the bride with a To Do list that includes meditation for all the guests. These are the characters that keep stories from feeling contrived.

5. It's a lovely tour of California (and many places I know well, which made it especially entertaining to me): Palo Alto/Stanford in the 70s, the Bay Area, the shingled faculty club and homes of Berkeley, the foothills of Auburn. Go take a little literary tour. You'll enjoy it.

4. Some great relationships. Not great in that they work seamlessly, but great in their complexities and difficulties and concessions and refusals to concede. A daughter dealing with her crochety narcissistic father. Not fun, but dealing with it. A woman in her second marriage, having lost a child in her first, forging a new relationship with he new husband. A grieving mother trying to understand her lost son's best friend.

3. The affirmation that parents can learn to love (and see the poetry in) their kids' music.

2. Packer can turn a phrase with the best of them. Her sentences twist and turn smoothly. Her dialog is natural, yet unique to each character.

1. Packer ties the novella ("Walk for Mankind") with the final story ("Things Said or Done"), which, for me, gave it a continued life, some closure, and some new points to ponder. There are family jokes that transcend the decades, the things that bring warm moments even when it seems no warm moments are left. Does reading get any better than that?
14 internautes sur 14 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Par Red Rock Bookworm - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Relié Commentaire client Vine pour produit gratuit ( De quoi s'agit-il? )
I could probably give a quick synopsis of Ann Packer's latest offering SWIM BACK TO ME in five words...."it's about pain and loss". The pain involved is both physical and emotional and the loss is about every conceivable type of loss that leaves a gaping void in ones life from the loss of one's childhood, to the loss of a friend, a child, a spouse, a life-style, an unfulfilled dream....well you get the idea.

While the author's writing style initially pulls you into each of the six stories it does not compensate for the unfulfilled feeling you get as a reader. There is truly no satisfactory resolution to any of the scenarios. It is as if the author were writing in her diary and relating events from her personal life experiences.......short little vignettes that unfold with no true beginning or end. Perhaps the reason Packer chose SWIM BACK TO ME as the title of her book is because the reader is left swimming in a sea of questions and must make it back to shore (and solutions) without any assistance from the writer. Guess that this reader is in dire need of some additional swimming lessons.
9 internautes sur 10 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Interesting, Moving, and Well Written Stories 5 mars 2011
Par Mary Lins - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Relié Commentaire client Vine pour produit gratuit ( De quoi s'agit-il? )
It is my practice to try not to read too much about a book (back covers, fly-leafs, detailed reviews, etc.) before reading it; I like to let the author reveal the plot and characters to me. So I started Ann Packer's new book, "Swim Back To Me", thinking it was a novel of 6 chapters. It begins in 1972 with precocious eight graders, Richard Appleby and Sasha Horowitz. Richard is our narrator recalling this pivotal time in his life his early teens in San Francisco during the "Hippy" years. But he's a bit of an innocent and so it takes him a while to understand what dangerous choices his friend Sasha is making with a much older pot dealer. This section of the novel is very evocative of being a teen in the early-mid 1970s - almost historical fiction! Packer's descriptions recall what it was like back then when things were so quickly changing in American culture; divorce was starting to be common and "free love" and permissiveness were practiced by some "cool" parents.

When Richard's 1970s story ended, I found that the story seemed to completely start over but I read on thinking it would relate back to the previous chapter. When it didn't, I checked the publisher's notes and, silly me, THIS IS NOT A NOVEL, it's a "collection of narratives" (why not call them short stories?) So THAT explained it and I continued on enjoying the stories. Maybe when it comes out in April it will have "Stories" on the cover.

There are six stories and I enjoyed each. "Molten" told of Kathryn who is deep in grief over her teen son, Ben's, tragic death. She tries to make sense of it all by listening to his CD collection. "Her Firstborn" is a beautifully written story about a couple expecting their first baby. I won't give away the plot line, but I must say that Packer skillfully writes the tale straddling the line between pathos and suspense. "Jump" is about a Urinary Tract Infection and how you can't always be sure you know who your coworkers are.

My favorite of the collection is "Dwell Time"; why hasn't Laura's new husband come home yet? Here Packer does an excellent writing job describing Laura's inner-narrative and fights of magical thinking while her worry and dread builds and builds.

The final story, "Things Said and Done" ties back to the first story of Richard and Sasha, but I won't reveal how because I wouldn't want to spoil how well Packer unfolds it all for the reader. What I found in "Swim Back To Me" was a wonderful set of interesting, moving, and well written stories.
5 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
An Engaging and Brilliant Collection 5 avril 2011
Par Bonnie Brody - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Relié
Ann Packer's newest book, Swim Back to Me, is comprised of a novella and five short stories. They are all "emotionally searing stories" dealing with issues of intimacy, misunderstandings that cause distancing, betrayals, and the problems that people have with understanding and knowing one another. Each story is strong and brilliant.

`Walk for Mankind', the novella in this collection, just sings. It is a coming of age story but to just describe it as that would be like saying it's a beautiful day and to leave out what makes it beautiful: the smell of the greenery, the feel of a breeze, the sensation of the the sun on your skin and the overall feeling of beauty and abundance inspired by being part of this world.

The novella takes place in 1972 Palo Alto, California close to the Stanford campus. It is told from fifty-year old Richard's memories of his fourteenth summer. Sasha and Richard are both fourteen years old and are friends, the kind of friends who play scrabble, go to the beach, ride bikes together and play truth and dare. They have fun. Sasha is the more dominant one in the relationship and she has a real independent and wild streak to her that Richard lacks. Sasha decides that she and Richard should do a 20-mile Walk for Mankind and raise so much money that they are `heroes' of a sort. Just before the walk, Sasha meets Cal and begins a sexual relationship with him. Since Cal is a drug dealer, pot also enters the picture. Sasha starts smoking a lot of weed and Richard soon embraces it as well. Pot becomes a big deal for Richard as he "laughs the ocean-wave laughter of the stoned, up and down and down and up, and it was incredibly intense and at the same time locked away from the real world, safe behind a wall of glass".

Richard loves to go to Sasha's house where her free-wheeling parents are fun and exuberant. Richard lives with his stodgy father, a history professor, and a housekeeper. His mother left them ten months ago to `find herself' and Richard sees her once a month for a weekend. Richard's relationship with his father is distant and he loves Sasha's family as much as being with Sasha. There comes a time in their relationship, however, when sexuality enters and they begin to distance, not understanding one another and their new roles.

The underlying theme of this beautiful novella is the distance and pursuit of two adolescents who do not know themselves or each other and are trying to navigate the world of intimacy. This quickly turns into perceived betrayals which distance the two friends, leaving them in a place of anomie. They learn to perceive the treacheries, dreams and misfortunes that comprise life, songs in a dissonant key.

In `Things Said and Done' Sasha's family is revisited during the festivities of her brother's marriage to a woman much younger than him. Her parents are long divorced and Sasha has come to realize that her father is a narcissist. She is his emotional caretaker. She has left her wildness behind her and lives a staid life as an academic.

In `Molten' a mother grieves the death of her teen-aged son. "Her body had become a scale, a device for measuring grief." She has lost her grasp on life and tries to relive her son's days by listening to his rock music non-stop and finding meaning in the music and instrumentation he once listened to. She has moved away from her family and at a bereavement group "she felt molten. She didn't want friends, compassionate or otherwise. She wanted to scream in a padded room, scratch her arms till they bled."

`Jump' is a story about a shift supervisor at a copy store who has a urinary tract infection. Her car won't start and a co-worker drives her home. On the drive she finds out he is not who she thought he was and that they are both trying to escape from certain parts of their lives without success.

In `Dwell Time', a newly married woman has to deal with her husband's habit of just disappearing for days at a time, something he did in his first marriage but she did not know about. Should she leave him or can she find a way to make this marriage work? Interestingly, `dwell time' "is how long soldiers have between deployments". Could her husband think of their marriage as a war zone, and these disappearances be his way to find peace?

`The Firstborn' is a poignant story of a woman whose firstborn son died at five months from crib death. This destroyed her marriage. She is remarried now, pregnant and about to give birth to a child. The couple's fears and hopes are examined, along with her memories of her firstborn.

I am a lover of short stories to begin with, but I gather light when I read something as engaging and brilliant as this collection. Ann Packer has matured so much in her writing since The Dive From Clausen's Pier. She is well on her way to becoming a master.
5 internautes sur 6 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Psychological explorations of the everyday 6 mars 2011
Par Ginahmk - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Relié Commentaire client Vine pour produit gratuit ( De quoi s'agit-il? )
Are you a fan of books like "Olive Kitteridge?" Well, then this set of six short stories should appeal. First off, there are no monumental heroes. There is no action packed, suspense. Rather we enter middle-class family life, where Packer maps the little ups and downs that serve as mile markers on life's journey. These stories follow a similar formula. Their strength lies in the intense examination of the "humaness" of the characters, their limitations and well meaning motives until, bam, there is a sudden realization of what really may be going on. The first story is the longest and most intricate and brings back memories of 1972 California. Two 13-year olds from two very different families become friends over the summer. A budding romance between them is blighted as Sasha seeks thrills with independence, lies, pot, and sex, while Richard is dragged along. A serious youngster, he takes his first step into adulthood when he learns the depths of deception. My favorite story was "Dwell Time," the only page-turner for me. A husband disappears. The wife's gripping terror and love end in cold resolution when she is faced with the final revelation. Some of the characters were sympathetic, some a bit bizarre, such as the depressed mother listening to her dead son's music. Some of the stories felt a bit unfinished, maybe like life. Overall a solid set of stories which you can wander through at a leisurely pace over a cup of tea, like sitting with an old gossipy friend.
Ces commentaires ont-ils été utiles ? Dites-le-nous


Souhaitez-vous compléter ou améliorer les informations sur ce produit ? Ou faire modifier les images?