Of Time and the River & Look Homeward, Angel. Thomas Wolfe

Of Time and the River & Look Homeward, Angel - Thomas  Wolfe


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       Thomas Wolfe

      Of Time and the River & Look Homeward, Angel

      A Tale of Eugene Gant (Autobiographical Novels)

      Published by

      Books

      - Advanced Digital Solutions & High-Quality eBook Formatting -

       [email protected]

      2018 OK Publishing

      ISBN 978-80-272-4442-3

       Look Homeward, Angel

       Of Time and the River

      Look Homeward, Angel

       Table of Contents

       To the Reader

       Part One

       1

       2

       3

       4

       5

       6

       7

       8

       9

       10

       11

       12

       13

       Part Two

       14

       15

       16

       17

       18

       19

       20

       21

       22

       23

       24

       25

       26

       27

       Part Three

       28

       29

       30

       31

       32

       33

       34

       35

       36

       37

       38

       39

       40

      To the Reader

       Table of Contents

      This is a first book, and in it the author has written of experience which is now far and lost, but which was once part of the fabric of his life. If any reader, therefore, should say that the book is “autobiographical” the writer has no answer for him: it seems to him that all serious work in fiction is autobiographical — that, for instance, a more autobiographical work than “Gulliver’s Travels” cannot easily be imagined.

      This note, however, is addressed principally to those persons whom the writer may have known in the period covered by these pages. To these persons, he would say what he believes they understand already: that this book was written in innocence and nakedness of spirit, and that the writer’s main concern was to give fulness, life, and intensity to the actions and people in the book he was creating. Now that it is to be published, he would insist that this book is a fiction, and that he meditated no man’s portrait here.

      But we are the sum of all the moments of our lives — all that is ours is in them: we cannot escape or conceal it. If the writer has used the clay of life to make his book, he has only used what all men must, what none can keep from using. Fiction


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