Resultados para "Furia" en Narrativa femenina

«Intanto io sogno che quello costa quasi niente.» Potrebbe essere il riassunto di una vita e in un certo senso lo è: una delle vite che schizzano fuori da queste pagine, racconti di donne i cui destini, diversissimi tra loro, si somigliano però nelle mille sfumature affilate del coraggio, della rabbia, della nostalgia, dell’amore. Dentro a interni metropolitani invasi da bucce di cipolla e mariti violenti, borsette in finta pelle e madri disapprovanti, si muovono le protagoniste e come si muovono sbagliano, ma non per questo si adattano a star ferme.

Una mujer vive en la ladera de la montaña, entre la neblina que baja y el follaje feraz. Su misión es cuidar los linderos, avisar al celador de cualquier anomalía. En sus cuadernos escribe sobre su rutina parsimoniosa y los recuerdos de una infancia marcada por una madre brutal y por el deseo insatisfecho de aprender. Al fondo, se escuchan la cantera y el ruido de las camionetas blindadas sobre la destapada. Un día aparece en su jardín un cuerpo, y turbados y cuidadosos de no llamar la atención, con el celador deciden enterrarlo. Pero aparece otro. Y otro y otro y otro...

Elise, a street-smart girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and Jamey, the golden boy scion of a wealthy and powerful East Coast family, make an unlikely couple. At first theirs is a tale of sexual obsession and wanting to have something you shouldn't. Jamey is both attracted by Elise and repelled by her - she is gritty, uncouth, abrupt and a million miles from his rarefied social circle. In some ways he hates her, yet he keeps coming back for more. For Elise, the attraction to Jamey is visceral.

Carolina Brown couldn’t be more different than her mama if she tried - and truthfully most of us believe she worked hard at precisely that. She worked hard at everything else, too, and set off to college to accomplish big things in the wide world. Unfortunately, God called her right back to Charleston when her mama suffered a near fatal accident that left her requiring round the clock care.

Some folks are born with a silver spoon jutting right out of their mouths. Others are a bit more like Miss Harmony King. That poor thing bounced in and out of so many foster homes growing up, that even my head spun circles trying to keep track of them all. Once Harmony hit 18, though, she disappeared from Charleston altogether. Fast forward nearly a decade, and now she’s back, bent over a pew, and praying like her life depends on it. I’d reckon that just maybe it does.