The Bridge of San Luis Rey (Perennial Classics)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
This beautiful new edition features unpublished notes for the novel and other illuminating documentary material, all of which is included in a new Afterword by Tappan Wilder.
"On Friday noon, July the twentieth, 1714, the finest bridge in all Peru broke and precipitated five travelers into the gulf below." With this celebrated sentence Thornton Wilder begins The Bridge of San Luis Rey, one of the towering achievements in American fiction and a novel read throughout the world.
By chance, a monk witnesses the tragedy. Brother Juniper then embarks on a quest to prove that it was divine intervention rather than chance that led to the deaths of those who perished in the tragedy. His search leads to his own death -- and to the author's timeless investigation into the nature of love and the meaning of the human condition.
This new edition of Wilder’s 1928 Pulitzer Prize winning novel contains a new foreword by Russell Banks.
own old hours he was re-living. He was the awkwardest speaker in the world apart from the lore of the sea, but there are times when it requires a high courage to speak the banal. He could not be sure the figure on the floor was listening, but he said: ‘We do what we can. We push on, Esteban, as best we can. It isn’t for long, you know. Time keeps going by. You’ll be surprised at the way time passes.’ They started for Lima. When they reached the bridge of San Luis Rey the Captain descended to the
Similarly I sent word to the Café Pizarro asking them to send Uncle Pio to see me if he dropped in before sunset. I shall give him that old bent salad fork with the turquoise in it, and he will bring me a copy of the new ballad that everyone is singing about the d – q – a of Ol – v – s. My child you shall have the best of everything and you shall have it first.’ And in the next letter: ‘My dear, Uncle Pio is the most delightful man in the world, your husband excepted. He is the second most
performance Camila, peering out between the folds of the curtain, had Uncle Pio point out to her the little middle-aged woman worn with the cares of penury and a large family; but it seemed to Camila that she was looking at all the beauty and dignity in the world. As she waited for the lines that preceded her entrance she clung to Uncle Pio in reverent silence, her heart beating loudly. Between the acts she retired to the dusty corner of the warehouse where no one would find her and sat staring
audience that she frequented the great world about whom the dramatists wrote. She had a new way of fingering a wine-glass, of exchanging an adieu, a new way of entering a door that told everything. To Uncle Pio nothing else mattered. What was there in the world more lovely than a beautiful woman doing justice to a Spanish masterpiece? – a performance (he asks you) packed with observation, in which the very spacing of the words revealed a comment on life and on the text – delivered by a beautiful
the sisters of Santo Tomás peddle from door to door. Whether it be of much use I know not. It can do no harm. I am told that in the convent the silly sisters inhale it so diligently that one cannot smell the incense at Mass. Whether it be worth anything I know not; try it. ‘Rest easy, my love, I am sending His Most Catholic Majesty the perfect gold chain.’ (Her daughter had written her: ‘the chain arrived in good condition and I wore it at the christening of the Infante. His Most Catholic