Evening Snow Will Bring Such Peace

Evening Snow Will Bring Such Peace

David Adams Richards

Language: English

Pages: 125

ISBN: 0771034857

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Cindi and Ivan Basterache have been married only twenty months. There is a disagreement over a loan, and rumours of violence in the ensuing quarrel begin to spread throughout the northern New Brunswick mill town in which they live, setting in motion a series of events and misunderstandings. As Ivan struggles to reconcile with Cindi, the community turns against him, fuelled by his father’s self-deluded lies and misguided attempts to set things right, exposing the other side of good intentions and leading to the novel’s powerful conclusion. Disturbing, tender-hearted, and at times darkly humorous, Evening Snow Will Bring Such Peace reveals the strange unrecognized power in us all to shape one another’s destinies.

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against the wall and sat on the couch. “Don’t blame me,” Antony said. “No one’s gonna take a goat unless they want to, so why blame me for that?” Antony looked at his son. He looked particularly put out at this moment, as if he had always had the best intentions – and was now all at once reconciled to being misunderstood by everyone. “Is Nannie down there?” Ivan said. “Vera needed some help.” Antony shook his head. “No, she isn’t,” he said. “Why not?” “I can’t have an old woman going down

aside and said: “We can save the child but we can’t save her.” The husband had just come from work. He had gotten a call that his wife had been taken to the hospital. “Well, she won’t stay here,” the young man said, almost immediately. “She’s been to you before and nothing was wrong. And now yer tellin me – telling us – about it and everything,” he said, losing control, and looking about. “She won’t stay here – she’ll go down to Moncton.” And at the word Moncton, he broke down and started to

say: “It’s better.” “It’s better,” Fortune nodded in a peculiar way. He thought his brother would deny it. But Armand, looking up at him over the top of a magazine, only said: “It’s better.” He told him that there were lots of young girls now who got pregnant, and had no other recourse – some were raped or molested, or unmarried. But at any rate they did not want to bring unwanted children into the world, and anyway, it was better – he had always agreed with it. Besides, he only did fifteen or

“And I’m going to Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupre – I’m going by myself.” She paused. “Some time soon.” Ivan had taken the day to scout where the coyotes were behind the fields. Then, having decided where he would place his traps, he walked through the woods – this was just at dark – and came out on a dirt road. The air smelled of heavy leaves and sandpiles on the side of the road. Limp telephone lines hung in the dusk on lime-coated poles, and the air seemed to tick and fill with pleasant sounds.

room was lighted up by the TV set. A planter sat in the dark atop a rickety metal bookshelf. A large, coloured picture of the Pope and a crucifix hung above the couch, with yellow palm leaves stuck in the picture frame. The whole room smelled of toast. The telephone table, directly in front of Nevin, was littered with crime magazines, Two Girls and the Robbery Suspect and The Case of the Clever Cleaver – which little Valerie continually snuck up to her room – and a big cardboard box filled with

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