By Sheila O'Connor
Winner 2003 Michigan Literary Fiction Award for unique novelWinner of Minnesota publication Award"Written with precision and notion, this can be a hugely steered paintings from a author to watch."---Library Journal"O'Connor . . . continues to be a consummate artist, real to her imaginative and prescient of a piece that's bleak, fair, and missing any overt sentimental overtures. Her eye, a poet's eye, misses nothing."---three candles". . . a touching odyssey of a woman poised among the emotional abyss and the reader's heart."---Minneapolis Star-Tribune"A delicate, usually disquieting ebook that jewelry precise all through. . . . it is the ability of an entire author that we see Faina's striking spirit, whereas concurrently experiencing her soreness and melancholy. the outcome is an uplifting, even inspiring publication with none of the sugarcoating frequently present in tales like this."---California Literary ReviewWhere No Gods got here is writer Sheila O'Connor's compelling tale of Faina McCoy, a tender lady stuck in a deadly scheme of tricky lies created for her personal harrowing procedure of survival. Enmeshed in a tangled relations internet, Faina is without warning uprooted opposed to her will from her father and unearths herself part a continent away at the doorstep of a mom who deserted her years before-but who cannot reside with out Faina now. by myself, persecuted, and exploited, Faina needs to fend for herself as she searches for romance and solutions, navigating the streets of an odd urban and forging bonds of feeling with liars and outlaws.
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While she comes back to earth in peace, without my childish chatter, I run downstairs to the bakery for her marmalade twist. ” Frances says to me. Frances always calls me “the new girl,” her greeting half-scolding, half-friendly. When business is slow, she visits with me. All of our conversations are quizzes, a series of questions too long and complicated for me to answer. It happens everywhere I go—the bookmobile, Border Drug, Kenny’s Grocery—everyone wants to know something about who I am, why I’m here, where I’ve come from.
Wasn’t trying to save her again, just to have the cops nipping at my ass. She could drink herself to death without me. I wasn’t her little girl. The street was my family. I breathed the exhaust fumes, sour piss in empty alleys, and felt my blood rush. Tony lit my cigarettes and tangled my hair between his ‹ngers. People were afraid of him, his temper and his rep. They stayed away from me. It was months before he slapped me, his hand burning a mark on my cheek. He’d been drinking heavy, dope never made him so crazy.
He’s down below, in the alley, hands hidden in the pockets of his loose leather jacket, staring straight up at me. ” I wrap my ‹ngers around the cold metal rail, peer over the edge of the ‹re escape. ” “Yeah. ” “I got one inside. ” I tiptoe back into Lenore’s room, sneak out a Salem cigarette she’ll never miss. Then I hurry back to the ‹re escape to get there before he disappears. When I step outside, he’s still there, grinning. ” he asks. ” I throw it down, and he catches it gracefully, one-handed in midair.