The MillstoneHMH, 15 oct 1998 - 192 páginas The story of an upper-middle-class unwed mother in 1960s London, from a novelist who is “often as meticulous as Jane Austen and as deadly as Evelyn Waugh” (Los Angeles Times). In a newly swinging London, Rosamund Stacey indulges in a premarital sexual encounter—and soon thereafter finds herself pregnant. Despite her fierce independence and academic brilliance, Rosamund is in fact naïve and unworldly, and the choices before her are terrifying. But in the perfection and helplessness of her baby she finds an unconditional love she has never known before—and as she navigates a situation still considered scandalous in her circles, she may discover that motherhood and independence need not be mutually exclusive. From “one of Britain’s most dazzling writers,” the award-winning author of The Dark Flood Rises, The Millstone captures both a moment in history when women’s lives were changing dramatically and the timeless truths of the female experience (The New York Times Book Review). |
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... months. "Then," she said, "when I finally did post it off, the letter inside was three months old, so by the time they got round to reading it, it was six months old, so when I rang up after three months and told them they'd had it six ...
... months. "Then," she said, "when I finally did post it off, the letter inside was three months old, so by the time they got round to reading it, it was six months old, so when I rang up after three months and told them they'd had it six ...
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... months was the sheer unlikelihood of it all. It wasn't, after all, as though I had asked for it: I had asked for it as little as anyone who had ever got it. One reads such comforting stories of women unable to conceive for years and ...
... months was the sheer unlikelihood of it all. It wasn't, after all, as though I had asked for it: I had asked for it as little as anyone who had ever got it. One reads such comforting stories of women unable to conceive for years and ...
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... month, it became increasingly impossible to change my line of retreat. It took me some time to realize that I was pregnant: the possibility had of course crossed my mind fairly early on, but I had dismissed it as being too ridiculous ...
... month, it became increasingly impossible to change my line of retreat. It took me some time to realize that I was pregnant: the possibility had of course crossed my mind fairly early on, but I had dismissed it as being too ridiculous ...
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... months, before anyone but me knew what was happening: it seemed too much like a nightmare, like an hallucination, and I kept waking up each morning and thinking it must be a dream, the kind of dream that my non-conformist guilt might be ...
... months, before anyone but me knew what was happening: it seemed too much like a nightmare, like an hallucination, and I kept waking up each morning and thinking it must be a dream, the kind of dream that my non-conformist guilt might be ...
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