Young
by Miriam Colwell
$15.95
Softcover, Regional Fiction
ISBN: 978-1-934031-16-2
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Also by Miriam Colwell:
Contentment Cove
REVIEWS
"It is risque and sexy, as well as funny, poignant, sad, suspenseful, and full of wacky characters and goofy situations ... (A) literary treat to readers who enjoy a good story, well-told."
The Times Record
ABOUT THE BOOK
Young is a lively and moving story of one young woman's restlessness and
struggle with life in a small Maine coastal town during the 1950s. Young's timeless
themes still resonate as Evelyn, a recent high school graduate, confronts the question: What is she going to do with her life? All she knows for sure is that she is ready to escape a place where people know her every move and where her mother bakes bread that Evelyn delivers to the
increasing number of summer residents. Young (originally published in 1955) follows Evelyn and her best friend, the naive and intelligent Susan, as they con their way through a rowdy and ultimately tragic twenty-four hours. And by the end of that day Evelyn chooses her path for right or wrong.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Miriam Colwell was born in Prospect Harbor in 1917 and still lives in the house built by her great-great-great grandfather in 1817. Colwell also wrote Wind off the Water (1945), Day of the Trumpet (1947) and Contentment Cove (2006). Those novels earned her attention at the time and prompted The Puckerbrush Review to write recently, "Everyone who wants to get acquainted with the whole body of Maine literature in the twentieth century should read Miriam Colwell."
EXCERPT
“
It made me quietly steam, the way Ma knocked herself out with that bread. And expected me to act like getting it delivered was a sacred trust. Brother! Nobody was a tin god to me just because they were summer people. All it takes to own a Cadillac is a few thousand dollars. Actually, they must have had their stupid side. The way they used to let their help get away with robbery. We ate the Ogdens' sugar and lard and stuff all winter in the g.o.d.'s. And one year when Dad
chauffeured for them, we rode on their tires. Our car took the same size. But try to argue with my mother. They were summer people, so they were a breed apart, even if they didn't furnish free rides anymore.
”