By Larry Watson
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There’s a very funtastic additional for fogeys and grandparents who grew up with this story—and their teenagers too: large photographs of Arthur Pig from front and the again that express the place he can locate his nostril, eyes, neck, waist, and curlytail! little toddlers like to find out about themselves, and this celebrates the glorious humans they're and everything they could do—from operating and leaping to brushing their the teeth.
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These contradictions fascinated me—not only the shabby attire coupled with her regal beauty, but also the good looks with no apparent attempt to adorn or enhance them. And then there was the fact that she was a waitress, but seemed completely indifferent to pleasing people.... No matter how those of us boys sitting at the soda fountain teased or interrogated her (the girls pretended not to notice her), she wouldn’t say much of anything beyond what her work required. And she always refused to disclose where she was from or why she had come to our town.
Chapter 21. Acknowledgments MORE FICTION FROM MILKWEED EDITIONS Copyright Page Also by Larry Watson In a Dark Time Leaving Dakota Montana 1948 Justice White Crosses Laura Orchard Sundown, Yellow Moon To Susie I WAS SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD when I first saw a woman’s bare breasts, in itself an unremarkable occurrence. But when you consider that I also saw my first bullet wound on that same body, you have a set of circumstances truly rare. And if the boy standing beside me that day had not already been as close as a brother, the experience would have bound us to each other in a way even blood would find hard to match.
Dunbar came to town there were never hockey games. He had played hockey in high school and college, he loved the sport, and he wasn’t about to give it up just because the residents of our town had wobbly ankles and didn’t know a hip check from a glove save. Every year then, once the cold weather came to stay, Dr. Dunbar converted a carefully measured section of their big backyard into a skating rink. And while the children in Willow Falls were welcome to use the rink to practice figure eights or to play crack-the-whip during the week, on weekends the ice was reserved for hockey games.
American Boy by Larry Watson