The Snowman's Children: A Novel

The Snowman's Children: A Novel

Glen Hirshberg

Language: English

Pages: 352

ISBN: 0786710829

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


The Snowman’s Children is a poignant, psychologically intense first novel that tells the story of an incident from one man’s childhood in the 1970s, when a serial killer called The Snowman stalked the streets of suburban Detroit. The incident, a result of good but woefully misguided juvenile intentions, forced his family to leave their home, and eventually forced him, at age twenty-nine, to return to his hometown in search of three old friends. Reminiscent of both To Kill a Mockingbird in its touching portrait of childhood, and the beautifully written brand of suspense that calls to mind Smilla’s Sense of Snow, The Snowman’s Children is an unusually controlled and original novel that establishes Hirshberg as an important new voice in American literature.

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more up days lately,” he says, “now that she’s back on medication. I have to take her word for it, of course. She doesn’t like to see me.” I can feel my cheeks redden, as if I’m facing into a wind. I have spent the better part of my life imagining myself as a sort of Gatsby in reverse. Instead of a mansion and a future, I have clung to a ruin and a past. But it has been my choice, all along. I had the opportunity to leave it all behind, whereas no one who stayed here ever did. Maybe that’s why I

It’s like the film’s stuck. That scene just keeps repeating. Spencer and me in doorways, Theresa wrecked and hurtling away. A long time goes by, enough for me to wonder if Spencer has left me here, with no way back to my car, no clear idea of where I am. I haven’t heard any noise beyond the curtain in quite some time, so maybe the bartender has gone too. If I’m alone, I am thinking, I might just lie down on this bench booth and spend the night here. The effort of throwing that curtain back,

halfway around the words. I think about it, then say, “I’m here for me. Of course I am. Is that what you’re waiting for me to say? You’re the public servant now, but I’m the same old selfish bastard? Okay. But I’m also here for my wife, my parents, maybe my brother, and the Foxes, Theresa, for sure. You, for sure. Plus Amy Ardell, the Cory twins, and James Sea.” “Don’t you say that name. I don’t want to hear it from you. As a matter of fact, get up; I want to take you home now.” Before I can

through the people clumped on couches in the TV lounge, and disappear into the laundry room and lock the door. Hours later, he would emerge with pieces of abstract art that positively vibrated color: veins of obscene orange snaking through reds and tans that gave out two-thirds of the way across the canvas. My favorite, called “Crush,” was a sort of collapsing iceberg of sea-greens swooning into blue, plunging toward black, and finally collapsing off the bottom of the frame. It used to hang over

“Mattie?” “Dr. Daughrety?” said Sergeant Ross. The Doctor continued to stare at me, ignoring the policemen. Then he inclined his head slightly. “Dr. Daughrety,” Sergeant Ross said, “we need to speak to you and your...” He glanced at Barbara. “Fiancée,” Dr. Daughrety said, his shoulders squaring out of their unaccustomed slump. He was beginning to look more like himself. “And your daughter.” Dr. Daughrety looked at Sergeant Ross. I thought he was going to laugh. “No,” he said, and turned

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