By James Agee
The vintage American novel, re-published for the a centesimal anniversary of James Agee's birth
Published in 1957, years after its author's loss of life on the age of forty-five, A dying within the Family remains a near-perfect murals, an autobiographical novel that includes some of the most evocative depictions of loss and grief ever written. As Jay Follet hurries again to his domestic in Knoxville, Tennessee, he's killed in a vehicle accident—a tragedy that destroys not just a existence, but in addition the household happiness and contentment of a tender relations. a unique of serious braveness, lyric strength, and strong emotion, A loss of life within the Family is a masterpiece of yankee literature.
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Extra info for A Death in the Family (Penguin Classics)
The phone rang again. He hurried out in the dark, barefooted, tiptoe, cursing under his breath. Hard as he tried to beat it, it rang again just as he got to it. He cut it off in the middle of its cry and listened with savage satisfaction to its death rattle. Then he put the receiver to his ear. ” he said, forbiddingly. ” It was Ralph. “Hello,” he said. ” “Ralph? Yeah. Hello. ” For there was something wrong with his voice. Drunk, I reckon, he thought. “Jay? Can you hear me all right? ” Crying too, sounds like.
Course they’re so much in the habit of it (he stepped into his drawers) that sometimes they overdo it. But most of the time if you think even a second before you get annoyed (he buttoned his undershirt), there is good common sense behind it. He shook out his trousers. His moment of reflection and light-heartedness was overtaken by shadow, and he felt a little foolish, for he couldn’t be sure there was anything to worry about yet, much less feel solemn about. That Ralph, he thought, hoisting the trousers and buttoning the top button.
When he was nearly asleep Rufus heard once more the crumpling of freight cars, and deep in the night he heard the crumpling of subdued voices and the words, “Naw: I’ll probly be back before they’re asleep”; then quick feet creaking quietly downstairs. But by the time he heard the creaking and departure of the Ford, he was already so deeply asleep that it seemed only a part of a dream, and by next morning, when his mother explained to them why his father was not at breakfast, he had so forgotten the words and the noises that years later, when he remembered them, he could never be sure that he was not making them up.
A Death in the Family (Penguin Classics) by James Agee