Colin McAdam

Language: English

Pages: 368


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

In the tradition of A Separate Piece, a masterpiece of adolescent perspective, emotion, impulse, and relationships: the riveting story of two male roommates at a co-ed boarding school and what happens when the girlfriend of one of them goes missing during their final year.

From an internationally acclaimed, prizewinning author, whom critics have compared to Dave Eggers and Michael Ondaatje, comes a tour de force: a mesmerizing novel that is at once a spellbinding psychological thriller and a brilliant portrait of adolescence that goes deep into the heads of two very different boys.

Awkward Noel thinks he's been allowed into the inner circle of his elite boarding school when he discovers his senior-year roommate is to be handsome, athletic Julius. Julius, in turn, cares only for the fleeting joys of teenage life: sneaking out to parties, playing pranks with friends, and most of all, spending the night with his girfriend, Fall. As Noel narrates this fateful semester from a perspective of many years, interwoven is Julius's own in-the-moment experiences of first love and male camaraderie.

Always an outsider, Noel develops an unhealthy fascination with Julius, and his crush on Fall begins to border on a dangerous obsession. As Julius experiences all the pleasures of an eighteen-year-old in love, we watch as Noel self-consciously analyzes his interactions with Julius and Fall, convincing himself of a deep connection that might not exist. When Fall disappears close to winter break, Julius and Noel are forced to face their own inner desires, a confrontation that ushers the two boys out of the innocence of adolescence and into adulthood.

A tremendous literary page-turner that perfectly captures the agonies and delights of adolescence, Fall is the exhilaration and angst of teenage love and friendship- and the ultimate transience of those feelings.


Les Souliers de Mandela

Exit Lines

No New Land

L'Indomptable (Docteure Irma, Tome 2)











for the rest of the day. I kept myself from thinking about my dreams of Meg. I felt guilty and disrespectful for having thought about her naked and told myself, to calm myself, that she was just a new friend I was meeting on the beach. It was another hot night. I didn’t want to wear shorts. I wanted to dress up a little, but not too much. I hadn’t worn jeans in months because they weren’t allowed that year at St. Ebury and it had been too hot in Sydney. Our maid had ironed a pair and folded them

totally is. I mean. I didn’t know you, I didn’t know Canada. But we’re on the floor of the toolshed. I know she says. It’s weird. It’s weird I say. It’s this feeling like I came here because I thought it would be cool to see a bigger world and we’re actually in this tiny space, and this space is supposed to be America and Canada’s out there and we can’t go out there together because we actually live in a little school. I can’t get my little head around it. Right. I know she says. But we’re

was a letter of such simplicity, vanity, vacuity, and obscenity. I never could have imagined those things being said by one real person to another. She talked of meeting by the tree on Sunday before dinner. By then, she said, they would have had their anniversary. She loved the idea of looking ahead, she said. And she would have a little present. I assumed, quite rightly I believe, that everyone was different depending on the company they kept, and if she were with me she would be a little less

the world. Every house, street, and story is a lie. If we were as honest as hyenas our cities would be smaller. That job you do. I wish I could slough this fat. I wish I could be honest. I wish I could bite the meat off everyone I hate. I haven’t been honest with myself. It’s a depressing realization at the age of thirty. I feel like so much has calcified already. The responsibility of being honest with oneself should, naturally, be borne by oneself alone, but I am happy to blame others.

now she’s far away. I don’t remember that plant. William’s coins and his tie clip. Those are my feet getting hugged by the rug. I don’t think we made that stain. I’m touching the counter and looking at this room. Something happened here. I can’t hear the neighbour. This is me alone. I will never eat a breakfast that I have to clean up. I will never wash another frying pan. I will eat glue before I eat another egg. I will never touch steel wool. I’m not gonna smoke so much.

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