-
“We could easily have been abject strangers with no history of brief unsatisfying cinematic sex between us.”
T. R. Pearson -
“The husk of a man in the woods below me bled into a creek that fed into a river that sparkled gaily in the winter sun.”
T. R. Pearson
-
For most people who write, writing is a compulsion. If I could be healed of it, I would, and I think a lot of people who write feel the same way.
T. R. Pearson -
“The southbound motorists crawled past, eyeing the conflagration and the quartet of cops who had arrived to eye it as well.”
T. R. Pearson -
It's a chore for a fellow to fear for his life more than once in an evening.
T. R. Pearson -
“He was accustomed to paying measurable heed only to those details that bore upon him most directly.”
T. R. Pearson -
There is a difference between writing and being an author. Authors talk. I'm standing here talking now. This has nothing to do with writing.
T. R. Pearson -
“Our grown-up was dinged and damaged. One of us was only thirteen and knew far less than he thought he did, and the eleven-year-old among us had to work to keep from whining. I wanted my mother in a powerful way, which I made a brave attempt to hide.”
T. R. Pearson
-
A seamlessly told and scrupulously detailed history of the Hartsoe clan of Haw County, North Carolina, Love and Lament is that rare novel that brings the gritty, rural past to vivid life. I could very nearly smell the moonshine (the moonshiners too!). Pass a few hours with Mary Bet Hartsoe and family. You won't regret it.
T. R. Pearson -
“It was one of those temporary situations with a whiff of forever about it.”
T. R. Pearson -
“A helplessly devoted student of human frailty”
T. R. Pearson