We Ride Upon Sticks
A Novel (Alex Award Winner)
(Sprache: Englisch)
In the town of Danvers, Massachusetts, home of the original 1692 witch trials, the 1989 Danvers Falcons will do anything to make it to the state finals even if it means tapping into some devilishly dark powers.
Against a background of...
Against a background of...
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In the town of Danvers, Massachusetts, home of the original 1692 witch trials, the 1989 Danvers Falcons will do anything to make it to the state finals even if it means tapping into some devilishly dark powers. Against a background of irresistible 1980s iconography, Quan Barry expertly weaves together the individual and collective progress of this enchanted team as they storm their way through an unforgettable season.
Helmed by good-girl captain Abby Putnam (a descendant of the infamous Salem accuser Ann Putnam) and her co-captain Jen Fiorenza (whose bleached blond Claw sees and knows all), the Falcons prove to be wily, original, and bold, flaunting society s stale notions of femininity. Through the crucible of team sport and, more importantly, friendship, this comic tour de female force chronicles Barry s glorious cast of characters as they charge past every obstacle on the path to finding their glorious true selves.
Lese-Probe zu „We Ride Upon Sticks “
Danvers vs. MasconometTwo minutes into the second half, Masco s #19 took an indirect shot on our goal. For a moment we lost sight of the ball in the scrum of players huddled in front of the net, the air blurry with sticks as if a hundred defenders were trying to clear it and a hundred others were trying to score. Considering how the first half went down, there really wasn t any reason for those of us on offense to keep watching, our defense porous as a broken window. True, our opponents, the Masconomet Chieftains, hadn t officially put it in the net, but it was a foregone conclusion, the ball already as good as in, another Masco goal adorning the scoreboard. Girl Cory turned and started the humiliating trek back to midfield. A few of us began to follow.
Come on, guys, pleaded Abby Putnam as she watched our offense retake its positions on the center line, readying ourselves for yet another back pass that restarts play after a goal. Masco hasn t even scored yet. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the ball found daylight, shooting out of the throng and right through our own Mel Boucher s heavily padded feet.
Abby hung her head, temporarily deflated. An empty potato-chip bag went sailing by, a tumbleweed in the wind. Quickly she pulled herself together and jogged back to midfield where the rest of our offense was already waiting, our forward line fanning ourselves with our sticks like a flock of overheated southern belles.
Come here often? offered Jen Fiorenza snidely from her position at left forward, but we were all too tired to tell her to cram it.
The Chieftains didn t even cheer. It was 92° in the shade. If we could ve rolled over and offered our throats, our pale underbellies flashing in the July sun, we would ve, each of us a white flag. There were twenty-eight minutes of play left. It was hard to know who was having less fun us or them. Mel Boucher stood in the goal, whacking the
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earth with her stick like a guitar god trashing his Stratocaster. Even at midfield you could hear what we knew by then was a string of invectives pouring out of her helmet. Tabarnaque! Je m en câlisse! All first half Mel had been complaining about the sun being in her eyes, but we d switched sides at halftime, so now it was God s fault. Baptême! she shouted. From the looks of it there was a girl on the other team who was also French Canadian. You could tell by the smirk on her face. The referee just looked puzzled, unsure of whether or not she should throw a yellow card for sportsmanship, though honestly she wasn t sure what she was hearing.
Why had we thought this year would be any different? Wasn t that the very definition of insanity standing around with our sticks in the air, not marking our man, playing everything but the angles, yet expecting things to be better, the ball effortlessly sailing into the opponent s net? Usually when people talk about tradition, they mean the good things people pass down to whoever s around to take up the mantle. Usually tradition doesn t refer to stuff like whole seasons without a single win, or untold handfuls of broken fingers, split lips, or the time the bus got a flat on the way home from an away game double-digit drubbing and we sat by the side of Route 1 for the better part of an hour inhaling the world s exhaust.
It was Monday afternoon, our first full day at Camp Wildcat on the University of New Hampshire campus, this atrocity our first scrimmage of the week. There would be other scrimmages every afternoon, other chances to have our asses served to us on a silver platter with a sprig of garni. Had we each really paid $375 to live in the dorms and spend our m
Why had we thought this year would be any different? Wasn t that the very definition of insanity standing around with our sticks in the air, not marking our man, playing everything but the angles, yet expecting things to be better, the ball effortlessly sailing into the opponent s net? Usually when people talk about tradition, they mean the good things people pass down to whoever s around to take up the mantle. Usually tradition doesn t refer to stuff like whole seasons without a single win, or untold handfuls of broken fingers, split lips, or the time the bus got a flat on the way home from an away game double-digit drubbing and we sat by the side of Route 1 for the better part of an hour inhaling the world s exhaust.
It was Monday afternoon, our first full day at Camp Wildcat on the University of New Hampshire campus, this atrocity our first scrimmage of the week. There would be other scrimmages every afternoon, other chances to have our asses served to us on a silver platter with a sprig of garni. Had we each really paid $375 to live in the dorms and spend our m
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Autoren-Porträt von Quan Barry
Raised in the coastal town of Danvers, Massachusetts, Quan Barry is the author of the novel She Weeps Each Time You re Born and of four books of poetry, including the collection Water Puppets, which won the AWP Donald Hall Prize for Poetry and was a PEN Open Book finalist. She lives in Wisconsin and teaches at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Quan Barry
- 2021, 384 Seiten, Maße: 13,1 x 20,2 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: VINTAGE
- ISBN-10: 0525565434
- ISBN-13: 9780525565437
- Erscheinungsdatum: 22.03.2021
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: NPR TIME BOOK RIOT LITHUB KIRKUS REVIEWS Quirky, comic, and painstakingly detailed. . . . Barry writes with a sustained, manic energy. The New York Times Book Review
A fresh coming-of-age story. Time
Spellbinding, wickedly fun. . . . Each sentence fizzes like a just-opened bottle of New Coke. O, The Oprah Magazine
You may come for the sizzle of genre elements here, but you ll stay for the rich bond forged by friendships on the field, the memories of misguided youth and the power of belief. Variety
A delightful, hilarious ode to the 80s. Ms. Magazine
A perfect blend of aesthetic and narrative pleasure. . . . Very funny and a little angry and a lot of fun. Maris Kreizman
The prose style is neon and the laughs do not stop. I feel like the author wrote the entire book with an evil grin on her face. Molly Young, Vulture
A charming novel that combines the beats of a sports movie with the dramas of teenagers coming of age. . . . There s plenty of 80s nostalgia . . . but Barry also delivers an earnest look at the divisions and secrets that can bubble up in a close group in any era. The AV Club
Surprising and ultimately delightful. . . . The narration is playful, making the emotional crescendos even more satisfying. . . . Barry is a skilled storyteller and sentence artist who embraces irreverence where irreverence is due. Minneapolis Star-Tribune
Almost too much fun to be allowed. . . . Truly a delight in every way. Literary Hub
In a story filled with friendship, femininity and 80s iconography, Barry will keep you laughing with every turn of the page. TODAY
Charming. . . . But Barry is . . . careful not to let nostalgia paper over the real ways in which things were worse in the 1980s, particularly for queer people and people of
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color. NPR
Riotously entertaining. . . . A witty, unruly ode to female empowerment and camaraderie. The Capital Times
Quan Barry writes of [her characters] lovingly, tracing their coming-of-age with sardonic wit and generous indulgence. The Washington Times
As many '80s references as a Stranger Things fan could desire and a group of unforgettable female characters make this a delightful read. BookPage
Funny and inventive. Bookreporter
Touching, hilarious, and deeply satisfying. . . . Readers will cheer [the team] on because what they re really doing is learning to be fully and authentically themselves. Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
A playful, nostalgic run through 1980s suburbia. . . . Barry handles a large cast of characters nimbly and affectionately, allowing each to take a turn or two in the spotlight. Publishers Weekly
Riotously entertaining. . . . A witty, unruly ode to female empowerment and camaraderie. The Capital Times
Quan Barry writes of [her characters] lovingly, tracing their coming-of-age with sardonic wit and generous indulgence. The Washington Times
As many '80s references as a Stranger Things fan could desire and a group of unforgettable female characters make this a delightful read. BookPage
Funny and inventive. Bookreporter
Touching, hilarious, and deeply satisfying. . . . Readers will cheer [the team] on because what they re really doing is learning to be fully and authentically themselves. Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
A playful, nostalgic run through 1980s suburbia. . . . Barry handles a large cast of characters nimbly and affectionately, allowing each to take a turn or two in the spotlight. Publishers Weekly
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