Storm Glass by Jane Urquhart (English) Paperback Book

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With stunning virtuosity, the stories in Jane Urquhart's dazzling first book of fiction unearth universal truths as they reach across countries and eras. A woman runs away to a cottage in the English moors to escape a love affair; shards of glass reconcile a middle-aged wife to her husband's estrangement; a grandmother makes a startling confession from her youth; a young woman discovers herself through the life of an Italian saint; and, in a spellbinding story of artistic jealousy, we enter the mind of poet Robert Browning at the end of his life. In these beautifully crafted stories, ordinary objects brim with meaning and memories radiate with significance as Jane Urquhart illuminates the things that lie just beneath the surface of our lives.

FORMATPaperback LANGUAGEEnglish CONDITIONBrand New Author Biography

JANE URQUHART, one of Canada's best loved writers, was born in the north (in Little Longlac, Ontario), and grew up in Northumberland County and Toronto. She is the author of eight internationally acclaimed novels, which have received Le prix du meilleur livre étranger (Best Foreign Book Award) in France; the Trillium Award; and the Governor General's Award, and have been finalists or longlisted for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award; the Rogers Communications Writers' Trust Fiction Prize; the Orange Prize; The Giller Prize; the Booker Prize; and the Commonwealth Writers' Prize for Best Book, among others.

Review

"Urquhart combines the poet's passionate feeling for language and the material world with nearly a classicist's sense of form. . . . A lavishness of imagination is brought to bear on small moments, and the writing is of such intensity that a character is often revealed in one expression, a way of life disclosed in a single scene." –Toronto Star"A collection of mythic, dreamlike stories. . . . Description of her tales belittles their strength and cannot convey the elegance of her prose."–Kingston Whig-Standard"Urquhart has impressive talent. There's nothing simple and obvious here; concentric circles of meaning ripple out from the stories, and the prose shimmers like reflections in a deep pool."–Globe and Mail

Review Quote

"Urquhart combines the poet's passionate feeling for language and the material world with nearly a classicist's sense of form.…A lavishness of imagination is brought to bear on small moments, and the writing is of such intensity that a character is often revealed in one expression, a way of life disclosed in a single scene.…" Ken Adachi,Toronto Star "A collection of mythic, dreamlike stories.…Description of her tales belittles their strength and cannot convey the elegance of her prose." KingstonWhig-Standard "Urquhart has impressive talent. There's nothing simple and obvious here; concentric circles of meaning ripple out from the stories, and the prose shimmers like reflections in a deep pool.…" Globe and Mail

Excerpt from Book

I n December of 1889, as he was returning by gondola from the general vicinity of the Palazzo Manzoni, it occurred to Robert Browning that he was more than likely going to die soon. This revelation had nothing to do with either his advanced years or the state of his health. He was seventy-seven, a reasonably advanced age, but his physical condition was described by most of his acquaintances as vigorous and robust. He took a cold bath each morning and every afternoon insisted on a three-mile walk during which he performed small errands from a list his sister had made earlier in the day. He drank moderately and ate well. His mind was as quick and alert as ever. Nevertheless, he knew he was going to die. He also had to admit that the idea had been with him for some time - two or three months at least. He was not a man to ignore symbols, especially when they carried personal messages. Now he had to acknowledge that the symbols were in the air as surely as winter. Perhaps, he speculated, a man carried the seeds of his death with him always, somewhere buried in his brain, like the face of a woman he is going to love. He leaned to one side, looked into the deep waters of the canal, and saw his own face reflected there. As broad and distinguished and cheerful as ever, health shining vigorously, robustly from his eyes - even in such a dark mirror. Empty Gothic and Renaissance palaces floated on either side of him like soiled pink dreams. Like sunsets with dirty faces, he mused, and then, pleased with the phrase, he reached into his jacket for his notebook, ink pot and pen. He had trouble recording the words, however, as the chill in the air had numbed his hands. Even the ink seemed affected by the cold, not flowing as smoothly as usual. He wrote slowly and deliberately, making sure to add the exact time and the location. Then he closed the book and returned it with the pen and pot to his pocket, where he curled and uncurled his right hand for some minutes until he felt the circulation return to normal. The celebrated Venetian dampness was much worse in winter, and Browning began to look forward to the fire at his son''s palazzo where they would be beginning to serve afternoon tea, perhaps, for his benefit, laced with rum. A sudden wind scalloped the surface of the canal. Browning instinctively looked upwards. Some blue patches edged by ragged white clouds, behind them wisps of grey and then the solid dark strip of a storm front moving slowly up on the horizon. Such a disordered sky in this season. No solid, predictable blocks of weather with definite beginnings, definite endings. Every change in the atmosphere seemed an emotional response to something that had gone before. The light, too, harsh and metallic, not at all like the golden Venice of summer. There was something broken about all of it, torn. The sky, for instance, was like a damaged canvas. Pleased again by his own metaphorical thoughts, Browning considered reaching for the notebook. But the cold forced him to reject the idea before it had fully formed in his mind. Instead, his thoughts moved lazily back to the place they had been when the notion of death so rudely interrupted them; back to the building he had just visited. Palazzo Manzoni. Bello, bello Palazzo Manzoni! The colourful marble medallions rolled across Browning''s inner eye, detached from their home on the Renaissance fa

Details ISBN0771086237 Author Jane Urquhart Pages 184 Language English Year 2011 ISBN-10 0771086237 ISBN-13 9780771086236 Format Paperback Publication Date 2011-05-03 Imprint Emblem Editions Country of Publication Canada Publisher McClelland & Stewart Inc. Place of Publication Toronto UK Release Date 2011-05-03 DEWEY 813.54 Audience General We've got this

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