30-Day No-Hassle Returns
We guarantee your satisfaction on every purchase or rental with a full refund within 30 days of your purchase date.
Fast Customer Service
If you need help, our friendly customer service team is here to help!
The Best Prices on Textbook Rentals, Guaranteed
You can shop with confidence with the best rental prices at ValoreBooks.com. If you find a lower priced rental, we will match it.

Sharp Objects

Author: 


ISBN-13: 

9780307341549


ISBN: 

0307341542


Publisher:  Crown Publishing Group
Summary: Chapter One My sweater was new, stinging red and ugly. It was May 12 but the temperature had dipped to the forties, and after four days shivering in my shirtsleeves, I grabbed cover at a tag sale rather than dig through my boxed-up winter clothes. Spring in Chicago. In my gunny-covered cubicle I sat staring at the computer screen. My story for the day was a limp sort of evil. Four kids, ages two through six, were fou...nd locked in a room on the South Side with a couple of tuna sandwiches and a quart of milk. They'd been left three days, flurrying like chickens over the food and feces on the carpet. Their mother had wandered off for a suck on the pipe and just forgotten. Sometimes that's what happens. No cigarette burns, no bone snaps. Just an irretrievable slipping. I'd seen the mother after the arrest: twenty-two-year-old Tammy Davis, blonde and fat, with pink rouge on her cheeks in two perfect circles the size of shot glasses. I could imagine her sitting on a shambled-down sofa, her lips on that metal, a sharp burst of smoke. Then all was fast floating, her kids way behind, as she shot back to junior high, when the boys still cared and she was the prettiest, a glossy-lipped thirteen-year-old who mouthed cinnamon sticks before she kissed. A belly. A smell. Cigarettes and old coffee. My editor, esteemed, weary Frank Curry, rocking back in his cracked Hush Puppies. His teeth soaked in brown tobacco saliva. "Where are you on the story, kiddo?" There was a silver tack on my desk, point up. He pushed it lightly under a yellow thumbnail. "Near done." I had two inches of copy. I needed six. "Good. Fuck her, file it, and come to my office." "I can come now." "Fuck her, file it, then come to my office." "Fine. Ten minutes." I wanted my thumbtack back. He started out of my cubicle. His tie swayed down near his crotch. "Preaker?" "Yes, Curry?" "Fuck her." Frank Curry thinks I'm a soft touch. Might be because I'm a woman. Might be because I'm a soft touch. Curry's office is on the third floor. I'm sure he gets panicky-pissed every time he looks out the window and sees the trunk of a tree. Good editors don't see bark; they see leaves--if they can even make out trees from up on the twentieth, thirtieth floor. But for the Daily Post, fourth-largest paper in Chicago, relegated to the suburbs, there's room to sprawl. Three floors will do, spreading relentlessly outward, like a spill, unnoticed among the carpet retailers and lamp shops. A corporate developer produced our township over three well-organized years--1961-64--then named it after his daughter, who'd suffered a serious equestrian accident a month before the job was finished. Aurora Springs, he ordered, pausing for a photo by a brand-new city sign. Then he took his family and left. The daughter, now in her fifties and fine except for an occasional tingling in her arms, lives in Arizona and returns every few years to take a photo by her namesake sign, just like Pop. I wrote the story on her last visit. Curry hated it, hates most slice-of-life pieces. He got smashed off old Chambord while he read it, left my copy smelling like raspberries. Curry gets drunk fairly quietly, but often. It's not the reason, though, that he has such a cozy view of the ground. That's just yawing bad luck. I walked in and shut the door to his office, which isn't how I'd ever imagined my editor's office would look. I craved big oak panels, a window pane in the door--marked Chief--so the cub reporters could watch us rage over First Amendment rights. Curry's office is bland and institutional, like the rest of the building. You could debate journalism or get a Pap smear. No one cared. "Tell me about Wind Gap."

Flynn, Gillian is the author of Sharp Objects, published under ISBN 9780307341549 and 0307341542. Eighteen Sharp Objects textbooks are available for sale on ValoreBooks.com, seventeen used from the cheapest price of $2.62, or buy new starting at $51.62.
 [read more]

Marketplace Prices
1 New from $51.62 17 Used from $2.62
  • Used $2.62
  • New $51.62
Price + Shipping
Condition
Details
Recommended
Product Details
Sharp Objects

ISBN-13: 9780307341549


ISBN: 0307341542


Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
www.ValoreBooks.com is the top book store for cheap Sharp Objects rentals, or used and new condition books that can be mailed to you in no time.
Where's My Stuff?
Shipping & Returns