The Heart's Invisible Furies: A Novel by John Boyne (English) Paperback Book

Description: The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne "Originally published in the United Kingdom by Doubleday, an imprint of Transworld Publishers, a Penguin Random House company, London."--Title page verso. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Named Book of the Month Clubs Book of the Year, 2017Selected one of New York Times Readers Favorite Books of 2017Winner of the 2018 Goldsboro Books Glass Bell Award From the beloved New York Times bestselling author of The Boy In the Striped Pajamas, a sweeping, heartfelt saga about the course of one mans life, beginning and ending in post-war IrelandCyril Avery is not a real Avery -- or at least, thats what his adoptive parents tell him. And he never will be. But if he isnt a real Avery, then who is he?Born out of wedlock to a teenage girl cast out from her rural Irish community and adopted by a well-to-do if eccentric Dublin couple via the intervention of a hunchbacked Redemptorist nun, Cyril is adrift in the world, anchored only tenuously by his heartfelt friendship with the infinitely more glamourous and dangerous Julian Woodbead. At the mercy of fortune and coincidence, he will spend a lifetime coming to know himself and where he came from - and over his many years, will struggle to discover an identity, a home, a country, and much more.In this, Boynes most transcendent work to date, we are shown the story of Ireland from the 1940s to today through the eyes of one ordinary man. The Hearts Invisible Furies is a novel to make you laugh and cry while reminding us all of the redemptive power of the human spirit. Author Biography JOHN BOYNE is the author of 10 novels for adults, 5 for younger readers and a collection of short stories. His 2006 novel THE BOY IN THE STRIPED PAJAMAS was an international bestseller, selling over 7 million copies worldwide and being made into a film, a play, a ballet and an opera. In his native Ireland, he has won three Irish Book Awards and been shortlisted on 10 separate occasions. He has also won or been shortlisted for a host of international literary awards, including a Stonewall Honor Award and a Lambda Literary Award in the United States. A regular participant in internationl literary festivals, he has also been a member of the jury for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award and, in 2015, chaired the jury for Canadas Scotiabank Giller Prize. His novels are published in over 50 languages. Review Praise for The Hearts Invisible Furies:Finalist for the 2018 LAMBDA Literary AwardsFinalist for the 2018 Ferro-Grumley Award for LGBTQ Fiction"By turns whimsical and heartbreaking, Boynes sprawling novel treads Dickensian territory across seven decades of Irish history, ending with a redemption for both a country and a native son." – People"Bleak, bittersweet, and Irish to the bone... explore[s] the relationship between Catholicism and patriarchy in midcentury Ireland and beyond."– O, The Oprah Magazine"A picaresque, lolloping odyssey for the individual characters and for the nation that confines them…The book blazes with anger as it commemorates lives wrecked by social contempt and selfloathing…. a substantial achievement." – The Guardian"With intricate narrative precision, The Hearts Invisible Furies cuts to the heart of what family is, how it is chosen, and how it endures. And it is charming and funny, even as it dives down from the precipice of endearing humor into the very specific ironies and cruelties of real life…. characters are cinematically rendered, with a deft, decadent wit that will make you laugh aloud at least once. Searing heartbreak; loneliness; a quest for internal and external redemption, solace, and contentment are all there in The Hearts Invisible Furies."– The Millions"This is nothing less than the story of Ireland over the past 70 years, expressed in the life of one man…highly entertaining and often very funny…Big and clever." – The Times Sunday Review"An epic full of verve, humour and heart… sure to be read by the bucketload… deeply cinematic [and] extremely funny." – The Irish Times"Boyne writes scenes that will make a reader laugh and cry—without saccharine sentiment or flippancy. Infused with heart and humor, as well as a keen sense of mans capacity for cruelty, The Hearts Invisible Furies pulsates with lifes complexity and progress slow march." – Paste "A big, sweeping novel...Cyrils intelligent, witty voice takes us all the way through to the end of his life. The Hearts Invisible Furies is a brilliant, moving history of an Irishman, and of modern Ireland itself." – Minneapolis Star Tribune"The most inviting and completely spellbinding book this author has ever written...an outstandingly memorable achievement." – Christian Science Monitor"This in-depth look at the life of one adopted man in post-war Ireland will make you laugh, weep, and live-tweet at two in the morning." – Brit + Co"More than a coming-of-age story, The Hearts Invisible Furies is one mans journey from persecution to toleration….The novel… delights."– BookPage"Enchanting... Boyne explores Cyrils life in luscious detail… With evocative descriptions of each city and fateful plot turns that twist the narrative in surprising ways, Boyne adroitly captures Cyrils shifting identity as he grapples with nationality, class, and sexuality. The book becomes both an examination of Cyrils life and a catalogue of Western societys evolution from post-war to present day, with all its failings, triumphs, complexities, and certainties… The life of Cyril Avery is one to be relished." – Publishers Weekly"Boyne, who has a wonderful gift for characterization, does a splendid job of weaving these various lives together in ways that are richly dramatic, sometimes surprising, and always compelling… Often quite funny, the story nevertheless has its sadness, sometimes approaching tragedy. Utterly captivating and not to be missed." – Booklist (starred review)"With quick strokes and bitter humor, Boynes opening scene encapsulates the Irish churchs hypocrisy… Boyne continues his crusading ways with the quiet keening of this painful, affecting novel" – Kirkus (starred review)"Cyrils life story is extraordinary, tragic, and triumphant… Boyne dedicates his wise, beautiful 15th novel to John Irving. This tribute fits a story calling to mind the humane sagas of T.S. Garp, Owen Meaney, and the humble tale of Piggy Sneed. Readers will fall in love with Boynes characters, especially Mrs. Goggin and Cyrils adoptive mother, Maude Avery, in this heartbreaking and hilarious story." – Library Journal "By turns savvy, witty, and achingly sad…This is a novelist at the top of his game." – Mail on Sunday "An epic novel…. The Hearts Invisible Furies proves that John is not just one of Irelands best living novelists but also one of the best novelists of Ireland." – Express "Boyne creates lightness out of doom, humour out of desperately sad situations… a terrific read." – Press Association Review Quote Praise for The Hearts Invisible Furies : Finalist for the 2018 LAMBDA Literary Awards Finalist for the 2018 Ferro-Grumley Award for LGBTQ Fiction "By turns whimsical and heartbreaking, Boynes sprawling novel treads Dickensian territory across seven decades of Irish history, ending with a redemption for both a country and a native son." - People "Bleak, bittersweet, and Irish to the bone... explore[s] the relationship between Catholicism and patriarchy in midcentury Ireland and beyond." - O, The Oprah Magazine "A picaresque, lolloping odyssey for the individual characters and for the nation that confines them...The book blazes with anger as it commemorates lives wrecked by social contempt and selfloathing.... a substantial achievement." - The Guardian "With intricate narrative precision, The Hearts Invisible Furies cuts to the heart of what family is, how it is chosen, and how it endures. And it is charming and funny, even as it dives down from the precipice of endearing humor into the very specific ironies and cruelties of real life.... characters are cinematically rendered, with a deft, decadent wit that will make you laugh aloud at least once. Searing heartbreak; loneliness; a quest for internal and external redemption, solace, and contentment are all there in The Hearts Invisible Furies ." - The Millions "This is nothing less than the story of Ireland over the past 70 years, expressed in the life of one man...highly entertaining and often very funny...Big and clever." - The Times Sunday Review "An epic full of verve, humour and heart... sure to be read by the bucketload... deeply cinematic [and] extremely funny." - The Irish Times "Boyne writes scenes that will make a reader laugh and cry--without saccharine sentiment or flippancy. Infused with heart and humor, as well as a keen sense of mans capacity for cruelty, The Hearts Invisible Furies pulsates with lifes complexity and progress slow march." - Paste "A big, sweeping novel...Cyrils intelligent, witty voice takes us all the way through to the end of his life. The Hearts Invisible Furies is a brilliant, moving history of an Irishman, and of modern Ireland itself." - Minneapolis Star Tribune "The most inviting and completely spellbinding book this author has ever written...an outstandingly memorable achievement." - Christian Science Monitor "This in-depth look at the life of one adopted man in post-war Ireland will make you laugh, weep, and live-tweet at two in the morning." - Brit + Co "More than a coming-of-age story, The Hearts Invisible Furies is one mans journey from persecution to toleration....The novel... delights." - BookPage "Enchanting... Boyne explores Cyrils life in luscious detail... With evocative descriptions of each city and fateful plot turns that twist the narrative in surprising ways, Boyne adroitly captures Cyrils shifting identity as he grapples with nationality, class, and sexuality. The book becomes both an examination of Cyrils life and a catalogue of Western societys evolution from post-war to present day, with all its failings, triumphs, complexities, and certainties... The life of Cyril Avery is one to be relished." - Publishers Weekly "Boyne, who has a wonderful gift for characterization, does a splendid job of weaving these various lives together in ways that are richly dramatic, sometimes surprising, and always compelling... Often quite funny, the story nevertheless has its sadness, sometimes approaching tragedy. Utterly captivating and not to be missed." - Booklist (starred review) "With quick strokes and bitter humor, Boynes opening scene encapsulates the Irish churchs hypocrisy... Boyne continues his crusading ways with the quiet keening of this painful, affecting novel" - Kirkus (starred review) "Cyrils life story is extraordinary, tragic, and triumphant... Boyne dedicates his wise, beautiful 15th novel to John Irving. This tribute fits a story calling to mind the humane sagas of T.S. Garp, Owen Meaney, and the humble tale of Piggy Sneed. Readers will fall in love with Boynes characters, especially Mrs. Goggin and Cyrils adoptive mother, Maude Avery, in this heartbreaking and hilarious story." - Library Journal "By turns savvy, witty, and achingly sad...This is a novelist at the top of his game." - Mail on Sunday "An epic novel.... The Hearts Invisible Furies proves that John is not just one of Irelands best living novelists but also one of the best novelists of Ireland." - Express "Boyne creates lightness out of doom, humour out of desperately sad situations... a terrific read." - Press Association Excerpt from Book Part I SHAME 1945 The Cuckoo in the Nest The Good People of Goleen Long before we discovered that he had fathered two children by two different women, one in Drimoleague and one in Clonakilty, Father James Monroe stood on the altar of the Church of Our Lady, Star of the Sea, in the parish of Goleen, West Cork, and denounced my mother as a whore. The family was seated together in the second pew, my grandfather on the aisle using his handkerchief to polish the bronze plaque engraved to the memory of his parents that was nailed to the back of the woodwork before him. He wore his Sunday suit, pressed the night before by my grandmother, who twisted her jasper rosary beads around her crooked fingers and moved her lips silently until he placed his hand atop hers and ordered her to be still. My six uncles, their dark hair glistening with rose--scented lacquer, sat next to her in ascending order of age and stupidity. Each was an inch shorter than the next and the disparity showed from behind. The boys did their best to stay awake that morning; there had been a dance the night before in Skull and theyd come home moldy with the drink, sleeping only a few hours before being roused by their father for Mass. At the end of the row, beneath a wooden carving of the tenth station of the cross, sat my mother, her stomach fluttering in terror at what was to come. She hardly dared to look up. The Mass began in the typical fashion, she told me, with the priests wearied discharge of the Introductory Rites and the congregations discordant singing of the Kyrie. William Finney, a neighbor of my mothers from Ballydevlin, made his way in all his pomposity to the pulpit for the first and second liturgical readings, clearing his throat into the heart of the microphone before pronouncing every word with such dramatic intensity that he might have been performing on the stage of the Abbey Theater. Father Monroe, perspiring noticeably under the weight of his vestments and the intensity of his anger, followed with the Acclamation and the Gospel before inviting everyone to be seated, and three red--cheeked altar boys scurried to their side--bench, exchanging excited glances. Perhaps they had read the priests notes in the sacristy beforehand or overheard him rehearse his words as he pulled the cassock down over his head. Or maybe they just knew how much cruelty the man was capable of and were happy that on this occasion it was not being directed toward them. "My family are all Goleen as far back as records go," he began, looking out at one hundred and fifty raised heads and a single bowed one. "I heard a terrible rumor once that my great--grandfather had family in Bantry but I never saw any evidence to justify it." An appreciative laugh from the congregation; a bit of local bigotry never hurt anyone. "My mother," he continued, "a good woman, loved this parish. She went to her grave having never left a few square miles of West Cork and didnt regret it for a moment. Good people live here , she always told me. Good, honest, Catholic people. And do you know something, I never had cause to doubt her. Until today." There was a ripple around the church. "Until today," repeated Father Monroe slowly, shaking his head in sorrow. "Is Catherine Goggin in attendance this morning?" He looked around as if he had no idea where he might find her, even though she had been seated in the same pew every Sunday morning for the past sixteen years. In a moment, the head of every man, woman and child present turned in her direction. Every head, that is, except for those of my grandfather and six uncles, who stared resolutely forward, and my grandmother, who lowered hers now just as my mother raised her own in a see--saw of shame. "Catherine Goggin, there you are," said the priest, smiling at her and beckoning her forward. "Come on up here to me now like a good girl." My mother stood up slowly and made her way toward the altar, a place she had only ever been before to take Communion. Her face was not scarlet, she would tell me years later, but pale. The church was hot that day, hot with the sticky summer and the breath of excited parishioners, and she felt unsteady on her feet, worrying that she might faint and be left on the marble floor to wither and rot as an example to other girls her age. She glanced at Father Monroe nervously, meeting his rancorous eyes for only a moment before turning away. "As if butter wouldnt melt," said Father Monroe, looking out at his flock and offering a half--smile. "How old are you now, Catherine?" he asked. "Sixteen, Father," said my mother. "Say it louder. So the good people at the back of the church can hear you." "Sixteen, Father." "Sixteen. Now lift your head and look out at your neighbors. At your own mother and father who have lived decent, Christian lives and been credits to the parents who went before them. At your brothers, whom we all know to be fine upstanding young men, hard workers who have led no girl astray. Do you see them, Catherine Goggin?" "I do, Father." "If I have to tell you to speak up again, Ill hit you a slap across this altar and theres not a soul in the church that would blame me for it." "I do, Father," she repeated, louder now. " I do. That will be the only time you ever utter those words in a church, do you realize that, little girl? Therell never be a wedding day for you. Your hands are going to your fat belly, I see. Is there a secret that youre hiding?" A gasp from the pews now. This was what the congregation had suspected, of course---what else could it have been?---but they had waited for confirmation. Eyes flitted back and forth between friends and enemies alike, conversations already being prepared in their heads. The Goggins , they would say. I would expect nothing less from that family. He can barely write his name on a scrap of paper and shes a peculiar article. "I dont know, Father," said my mother. "You dont know. Of course you dont know. Sure arent you just an ignorant wee slut who has no more sense than a rabbit in a hutch? And the morals to match, I might add. All you young girls out there," he said now, raising his voice as he turned to look out at the people of Goleen, who sat still in their seats as he pointed at them. "All you young girls are to take a look at Catherine Goggin here and learn what happens to girls who play fast and loose with their virtue. They find themselves with a child in their belly and no husband to take care of them." A roar went around the church. There had been a girl who got herself pregnant on Sherkin Island the previous year. It was a wonderful scandal. The same had happened in Skibbereen the Christmas before last. Was Goleen to earn the same mark of shame? If so, the news would be all around West Cork by teatime. "Now, Catherine Goggin," continued Father Monroe, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing the bone tightly between his fingers. "Before God and your family and all the good people of this parish, youre to name the pup who lay down with you. Youre to name him now so he can be made to give his confession and be forgiven in the eyes of the Lord. And after that youre to get out of this church and this parish and blacken the name of Goleen no more, do you hear me?" She looked up and turned to my grandfather, whose face was set like granite as he stared at the statue of the crucified Jesus hanging behind the altar. "Your poor daddy cant help you now," said the priest, following the direction of her gaze. "Sure he wants nothing more to do with you. He told me so himself last night when he came to the presbytery to report the shameful news. And let no one here blame Bosco Goggin for any of this, for he brought up his children right, he brought them up with Catholic values, and how can he be held to account for one rotten apple in a barrel of good ones? Give me the pups name right now, Catherine Goggin, give me his name so we can cast you out and not have to look at your filthy face anymore. Or do you not know his name, is that it? Were there too many of them for you to be certain?" A low murmur of discontent could be heard around the pews. Even in the midst of gossip, the congregation felt this might be going a step too far, for it implicated all of their sons in the immorality. Father Monroe, who had given hundreds of sermons in that church over the course of two decades and who knew well how to read a room, pulled back a little. "No," he said. "No, I can tell that theres still a shred of decency inside you and there was only one lad. But youll give me his name right now, Catherine Goggin, or Ill know the reason why." "I wont say," said my mother, shaking her head. "Whats that?" "I wont say," she repeated. "You wont say? The time for timidity is long since past; do you not realize that, no? The name, little girl, or I swear before the cross that I will whip you from this house of God in shame." She looked up now and glanced around the church. It was like a film, she would later tell me, with everyone holding their breath as they wondered to whom she might point the finger of blame, each mother praying that it would not be her son. Or worse, her husband. She opened her mouth and seemed to be on the verge of an answer but changed her mind and shook her head. "I wont say," she repeated quietly. "Get on with you so," said Father Monroe, stepping behind her and giving her an almighty kick in the back with his boot that sent her stumbling down the altar steps, her hands outstretched before her, for even at that early stage of my development she was ready to protect me at all costs. "Get on out of here, Details ISBN152476079X Author John Boyne Short Title HEARTS INVISIBLE FURIES Pages 592 Publisher Hogarth Press Language English ISBN-10 152476079X ISBN-13 9781524760793 Format Paperback DEWEY 823.92 Year 2018 Publication Date 2018-03-06 Subtitle A Novel Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2018-03-06 NZ Release Date 2018-03-06 US Release Date 2018-03-06 UK Release Date 2018-03-06 Imprint Hogarth Press Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:117766103;

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