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Amazon.com review.
“Drawing on both her Appalachian roots and her background in biology, Kingsolver delivers a passionate novel on the effects of global warming.” — Booklist (starred review)
“With her powerful new novel, Kingsolver delivers literary fiction that conveys an urgent social message… a clarion call about climate change, too lucid and vivid for even skeptics to ignore.” — Publishers Weekly , Starred Review
"Enthralling…Dellarobia is appealingly complex as a smart, curious, warmhearted woman desperate to-no resisting the metaphor here-trade her cocoon for wings.” — O, the Oprah Magazine
“A dazzling page-turner” — Elle
“Kingsolver has written one of the more thoughtful novels about the scientific, financial and psychological intricacies of climate change. And her ability to put these silent, breathtakingly beautiful butterflies at the center of this calamitous and noisy debate is nothing short of brilliant.” — Washington Post
“The novel really soars in the exquisitely drawn scenes where a strapped woman feels claustrophobic in a dollar store or panicked during a job interview or wistful for her bright young son’s future. Dellarobia is a smart, fierce, messy woman, and one can’t help rooting for her to find her wings.” — Entertainment Weekly
“Dellarobia is appealingly complex as a smart, curious, warmhearted woman desperate to-no resisting the metaphor here-trade her cocoon for wings.” — O, the Oprah Magazine
“One of the gifts of a Kingsolver novel is the resplendence of her prose. She takes palpable pleasure in the craft of writing, creating images that stay with the reader long after her story is done…(a) majestic and brave new novel.” — New York Times Book Review
“An intricate story that entwines considerations of faith and faithlessness, inquiry, denial, fear and survival in gorgeously conceived metaphor. Kingsolver has constructed a deeply affecting microcosm of a phenomenon that is manifesting in many different tragic ways, in communities and ecosystems all around the globe. This is a fine and complex novel.” — Seattle Times
“So captivating is this grand, suspenseful plot and the many subplots rising and falling beneath it that it takes some time before we realize what this story is really about —climate change.” — Minneapolis Star Tribune
“Spirituality, a troubled marriage, global warming…Kingsolver’s latest is a bold mélange, but it works.” — People
“Kingsolver is a storyteller first and foremost, as sensitive to human interactions and family dynamics as she is to ecological ones.” — NPR
“A delicate symbiosis between the sacred and the scientific in this richly rewarding novel that will both entertain and incite its readers.” — BookPage
“FLIGHT BEHAVIOR is a book worth reading twice? first for the intricacies of character, second for the dense, beautiful language Kingsolver puts on the page. She’s a keen observer of the messiness and unexpected beauty of the quotidian.” — Cleveland Plain Dealer
“By the end of FLIGHT BEHAVIOR, it’s clear that Kingsolver’s passionate voice and her ability to portray the fragility of the natural world, and why we should care about it, are as strong as ever.” — San Francisco Chronicle
“Novelists like Kingsolver have a particular knack for making us empathize with lives that may bear little resemblance to our own…What lifts FLIGHT BEHAVIOR…is not just Kingsolver’s nuanced and funny prose; it’s Dellarobia’s awakening to the possibilities around her.” — Julia Ingalls, Salon
“A terrifically entertaining read about a spirited young woman you’ll miss the minute you reach the last page.” — USA Today
“Marvelous…This is fiction rich in empathy, wit and science. Like the butterflies that astonish Feathertown, Kingsolvian gifts are ‘fierce and wondrous,’ ‘colors moving around like fire.’” — New York Times
“[Kingsolver’s] keen grasp of delicate ecosystems-both social and natural-keeps the story convincing and compelling.” — The New Yorker
Flight Behavior transfixes from its opening scene, when a young woman's narrow experience of life is thrown wide with the force of a raging fire. In the lyrical language of her native Appalachia, Barbara Kingsolver bares the rich, tarnished humanity of her novel's inhabitants and unearths the modern complexities of rural existence. Characters and reader alike are quickly carried beyond familiar territory here, into the unsettled ground of science, faith, and everyday truces between reason and conviction.
Dellarobia Turnbow is a restless farm wife who gave up her own plans when she accidentally became pregnant at seventeen. Now, after a decade of domestic disharmony on a failing farm, she has settled for permanent disappointment but seeks momentary escape through an obsessive flirtation with a younger man. As she hikes up a mountain road behind her house to a secret tryst, she encounters a shocking sight: a silent, forested valley filled with what looks like a lake of fire. She can only understand it as a cautionary miracle, but it sparks a raft of other explanations from scientists, religious leaders, and the media. The bewildering emergency draws rural farmers into unexpected acquaintance with urbane journalists, opportunists, sightseers, and a striking biologist with his own stake in the outcome. As the community lines up to judge the woman and her miracle, Dellarobia confronts her family, her church, her town, and a larger world, in a flight toward truth that could undo all she has ever believed.
Flight Behavior takes on one of the most contentious subjects of our time: climate change. With a deft and versatile empathy Kingsolver dissects the motives that drive denial and belief in a precarious world.
Barbara Kingsolver was born in 1955 and grew up in rural Kentucky. She earned degrees in biology from DePauw University and the University of Arizona, and has worked as a freelance writer and author since 1985. At various times she has lived in England, France, and the Canary Islands, and has worked in Europe, Africa, Asia, Mexico, and South America. She spent two decades in Tucson, Arizona, before moving to southwestern Virginia where she currently resides.
Her books, in order of publication, are: The Bean Trees (1988), Homeland (1989), Holding the Line: Women in the Great Arizona Mine Strike (1989), Animal Dreams (1990), Another America (1992), Pigs in Heaven (1993), High Tide in Tucson (1995), The Poisonwood Bible (1998), Prodigal Summer (2000), Small Wonder (2002), Last Stand: America’s Virgin Lands, with photographer Annie Griffiths (2002), Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life (2007), The Lacuna (2009), Flight Behavior (2012), Unsheltered (2018), How To Fly (In 10,000 Easy Lessons) (2020), Demon Copperhead (2022), and coauthored with Lily Kingsolver, Coyote's Wild Home (2023). She served as editor for Best American Short Stories 2001.
Kingsolver was named one the most important writers of the 20th Century by Writers Digest, and in 2023 won a Pulitzer Prize for her novel Demon Copperhead . In 2000 she received the National Humanities Medal, our country’s highest honor for service through the arts. Her books have been translated into more than thirty languages and have been adopted into the core curriculum in high schools and colleges throughout the nation. Critical acclaim for her work includes multiple awards from the American Booksellers Association and the American Library Association, a James Beard award, two-time Oprah Book Club selection, and the national book award of South Africa, among others. She was awarded Britain's prestigious Women's Prize for Fiction (formerly the Orange Prize) for both Demon Copperhead and The Lacuna , making Kingsolver the first author in the history of the prize to win it twice. In 2011, Kingsolver was awarded the Dayton Literary Peace Prize for the body of her work. She is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
She has two daughters, Camille (born in 1987) and Lily (1996). She and her husband, Steven Hopp, live on a farm in southern Appalachia where they raise an extensive vegetable garden and Icelandic sheep.
Flight behavior, harpercollins publishers.
The Measure of a Man
A certain feeling comes from throwing your good life away andit is one part rapture. Or so it seemed for now, to a woman withflame-colored hair who marched uphill to meet her demise.Innocence was no part of this. She knew her own recklessness andmarveled, really, at how one hard little flint of thrill could outweighthe pillowy, suffocating aftermath of a long disgrace. Theshame and loss would infect her children too, that was the worstof it, in a town where everyone knew them. Even the teenagecashiers at the grocery would take an edge with her after this,clicking painted fingernails on the counter while she wrote hercheck, eying the oatmeal and frozen peas of an unhinged familyand exchanging looks with the bag boy: She's that one. Howthey admired their own steadfast lives. Right up to the day whenhope in all its versions went out of stock, including the crummydiscount brands, and the heart had just one instruction left: run.Like a hunted animal, or a racehorse, winning or losing feltexactly alike at this stage, with the same coursing of blood andshortness of breath. She smoked too much, that was anothermortification to throw in with the others. But she had cast herlot. Plenty of people took this way out, looking future damagein the eye and naming it something else. Now it was her turn.She could claim the tightness in her chest and call it bliss, ratherthan the same breathlessness she could be feeling at home rightnow while toting a heavy laundry basket, behaving like asensible mother of two.
The children were with her mother-in-law. She'd dropped offthose babies this morning on barely sufficient grounds and itmight just kill her to dwell on that now. Their little faces turnedup to her like the round hearts of two daisies: She loves me, loves menot. All those hopes placed in such a precarious vessel. Realistically,the family could be totaled. That was the word, like awrecked car wrapped around a telephone pole, no salvageableparts. No husband worth having is going to forgive adultery ifit comes to that. And still she felt pulled up this incline by thehand whose touch might bring down all she knew. Maybe sheeven craved the collapse, with an appetite larger than sense.
At the top of the pasture she leaned against the fence to catchup on oxygen, feeling the slight give of the netted woven wireagainst her back. No safety net. Unsnapped her purse, countedher cigarettes, discovered she'd have to ration them. This hadnot been a thinking ahead kind of day. The suede jacket waswrong, too warm, and what if it rained? She frowned at theNovember sky. It was the same dull, stippled ceiling that had beenup there last week, last month, forever. All summer. Whoeverwas in charge of weather had put a recall on blue and nailed upthis mess of dirty white sky like a lousy drywall job. The pasturepond seemed to reflect more light off its surface than thesky itself had to offer. The sheep huddled close around its shineas if they too had given up on the sun and settled for secondbest. Little puddles winked all the way down Highway 7 towardFeathertown and out the other side of it, toward Cleary, a longtrail of potholes glinting with watery light.
The sheep in the field below, the Turnbow family land, the white framehouse she had not slept outside for a single night in ten-plus yearsof marriage: that was pretty much it. The wide screen version of her lifesince age seventeen. Not including the brief hospital excursions,childbirth related. Apparently, today was the day she walked out of the picture.Distinguishing herself from the luckless sheep that stood down therein the mud surrounded by the deep stiletto holes of their footprints,enduring life's bad deals. They'd worn their heavy wool through themuggy summer and now that winter was almost here, theywould be shorn. Life was just one long proposition they neversaw coming. Their pasture looked drowned. In the next fieldover, the orchard painstakingly planted by the neighbors lastyear was now dying under the rain. From here it all looked fixedand strange, even her house, probably due to the angle. She onlylooked out those windows, never into them, given the companyshe kept with people who rolled plastic trucks on the floor.Certainly she never climbed up here to check out the domesticarrangement. The condition of the roof was not encouraging.Her car was parked in the only spot in the county that wouldn'tincite gossip, her own driveway. People knew that station wagonand still tended to think of it as belonging to her mother. She'drescued this one thing from her mother's death, an unreliable setof wheels adequate for short errands with kids in tow. The priceof that was a disquieting sense of Mama still coming along forthe ride, her tiny frame wedged between the kids' car seats,reaching across them to ash her cigarette out the open window. Butno such thoughts today. This morning after leaving the kids atHester's, she had floored it for the half mile back home, feelinghigh and wobbly as a kite. Went back into the house only to brushher teeth, shed her glasses and put on eyeliner, no other preparationsnecessary prior to lighting out her own back door to wreckher reputation. The electric pulse of desire buzzed through herbody like an alarm clock gone off in the early light, setting inmotion all the things in a day that can't be stopped.
She picked her way now through churned up mud along thefence, lifted the chain fastener on the steel gate and slippedthrough. Beyond the fence an ordinary wildness of ironweed andbriar thickets began. An old road cut through it, long unused,crisscrossed by wild raspberries bending across in tall arcs. Inrecent times she'd come up here only once, berry picking with herhusband Cub and some of his buddies two summers ago, and itdefinitely wasn't her idea. She'd been barrel round pregnantwith Cordelia and thinking she might be called on to deliver thechild right there in the brambles, that's how she knew whichJune that was. So Preston would have been four. She rememberedhim holding her hand for dear life while Cub's hotdogfriends scared them half to death about snakes. These raspberrycanes were a weird color for a plant, she noticed now, not thatshe would know nature if it bit her. But bright pink? The colorof a frosted lipstick some thirteen-year old might want to wear.She had probably skipped that phase, heading straight forImmoral Coral and Come-to-Bed Red.
The saplings gave way to a forest. The trees clenched the lastof summer's leaves in their fists, and something made her thinkof Lot's wife in the Bible, who turned back for one last look athome. Poor woman, struck into a pile of salt for such a smalldisobedience. She did not look back, but headed into the woodson the rutted track her husband's family had always called theHigh Road. As if, she thought. Taking the High Road to damnation;the irony had failed to cross her mind when she devisedthis plan. The road up the mountain must have been cut forlogging in the old days. The woods had grown back. Cub andhis dad drove the all terrain up this way sometimes to get to thelittle shack on the ridge they used for turkey hunting. Or theyused to do that, once upon a time, when the combined weightof the Turnbow men senior and junior was about sixty poundsless than the present day. Back when they used their feet forsomething other than framing the view of the television set.The road must have been poorly maintained even then. Sherecalled their taking the chain saw for clearing windfall.
She and Cub used to come up here by themselves in those days,too, for so called picnics. But not once since Cordie and Prestonwere born. It was crazy to suggest the turkey blind on the familyproperty as a place to hook up. Trysting place, she thought, wordsfrom a storybook. And: No sense prettying up dirt, words from amother-in-law. So where else were they supposed to go? Herown bedroom, strewn with inside out work shirts and a onelegged Barbie lying there staring while a person tried to get inthe mood? Good night. The Wayside Inn out on the highwaywas a pitiful place to begin with, before you even started deductingthe wages of sin. Mike Bush at the counter would greether by name: How do, Mrs. Turnbow, now how's them kids?The path became confusing suddenly, blocked with branches.The upper part of a fallen tree lay across it, so immense she hadto climb through, stepping between sideways limbs with clammyleaves still attached. Would he find his way through this orwould the wall of branches turn him back? Her heart bumpedaround at the thought of losing this one sweet chance. Onceshe'd passed through, she considered waiting. But he knew theway. He said he'd hunted from that turkey blind some seasonsago. With his own friends, no one she or Cub knew. Younger,his friends would be.
She smacked her palms together to shuck off the damp gritand viewed the corpse of the fallen monster. The tree was intact,not cut or broken by wind. What a waste. After maybe centuriesof survival it had simply let go of the ground, the wide fist of itsroot mass ripped up and resting naked above a clay gash in thewooded mountainside. Like herself, it just seemed to have comeloose from its station in life. After so much rain upon rain thiswas happening all over the county, she'd seen it in the paper,massive trees keeling over in the night to ravage a family'sroof line or flatten the car in the drive. The ground took wateruntil it was nothing but soft sponge and the trees fell out of it.Near Great Lick a whole hillside of mature timber had plummetedtogether, making a landslide of splintered trunks, rock and rill.People were shocked, even men like her father-in-law who tendedto meet any terrible news with "That's nothing," claiming alreadyto have seen everything in creation. But they'd never seenthis and had come to confessing it. In such strange times, theymay have thought God was taking a hand in things and wouldthus take note of a lie.
The road turned up steeply toward the ridge and petered outto a single track. A mile yet to go, maybe, she was just guessing.She tried to get a move on, imagining that her long, straight redhair swinging behind her might look athletic, but in truth herfeet smarted badly and so did her lungs. New boots. There wasone more ruin to add to the pile. The boots were genuine calfskin,dark maroon, hand-tooled uppers and glossy pointed toes,so beautiful she'd nearly cried when she found them at SecondTime Around while looking for something decent for Prestonto wear to kindergarten. The boots were six dollars, in like newcondition, the soles barely scuffed. Someone in the world hadsuch a life, they could take one little walk in expensive newboots and then pitch them out, just because. The boots weren'ta perfect fit but they looked good on, so she bought them, herfirst purchase for herself in over a year, not counting hygieneproducts. Or cigarettes, which she surely did not count. She'dkept the boots hidden from Cub for no good reason but to keepthem precious. Something of her own. In the normal course offamily events, every other thing got snatched from her hands:her hairbrush, the TV clicker, the soft middle part of hersandwich, the last Coke she'd waited all afternoon to open.She'd once had a dream of birds pulling the hair from her headin sheaves to make their red nests.
Not that Cub would notice if she wore these boots, and notthat she'd had occasion. So why put them on this morning towalk up a muddy hollow in the wettest fall on record? Blackleaves clung like dark fish scales to the tooled leather halfway upher calves. This day had played in her head like a movie onround-the-clock reruns, that's why. With an underemployedmind clocking in and out of a scene that smelled of urine andmashed bananas, daydreaming was one thing she had in abundance.
The price was right. She thought about the kissingmostly, when she sat down to manufacture a fantasy in earnest,but other details came along, setting and wardrobe. This mightbe a difference in how men and women devised their fantasies,she thought. Clothes: present or absent. The calfskin boots werea part of it, as were the suede jacket borrowed from her bestfriend, Dovey, and the red chenille scarf around her neck, thingshe would slowly take off of her. She'd pictured it being cold like this,too. Her flyaway thoughts had not blurred out the inconveniencesaltogether. Her flushed cheeks, his warm hands smoothingthe orange hair at her temples, all these were part and parcel.She'd pulled on the boots this morning as if she'd received writteninstructions. (Continues...) Excerpted from Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver . Copyright © 2012 by Barbara Kingsolver. Excerpted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Barbara kingsolver.
Her books, in order of publication, are: The Bean Trees (1988), Homeland (1989), Holding the Line: Women in the Great Arizona Mine Strike (1989), Animal Dreams (1990), Another America (1992), Pigs in Heaven (1993), High Tide in Tucson (1995), The Poisonwood Bible (1998), Prodigal Summer (2000), Small Wonder (2002), Last Stand: America's Virgin Lands, with photographer Annie Griffiths (2002), Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life (2007), The Lacuna (2009), Flight Behavior (2012), Unsheltered (2018), How To Fly (In 10,000 Easy Lessons) (2020), Demon Copperhead (2022), and coauthored with Lily Kingsolver, Coyote's Wild Home (2023). She served as editor for Best American Short Stories 2001.
Kingsolver was named one the most important writers of the 20th Century by Writers Digest, and in 2023 won a Pulitzer Prize for her novel Demon Copperhead. In 2000 she received the National Humanities Medal, our country's highest honor for service through the arts. Her books have been translated into more than thirty languages and have been adopted into the core curriculum in high schools and colleges throughout the nation. Critical acclaim for her work includes multiple awards from the American Booksellers Association and the American Library Association, a James Beard award, two-time Oprah Book Club selection, and the national book award of South Africa, among others. She was awarded Britain's prestigious Women's Prize for Fiction (formerly the Orange Prize) for both Demon Copperhead and The Lacuna, making Kingsolver the first author in the history of the prize to win it twice. In 2011, Kingsolver was awarded the Dayton Literary Peace Prize for the body of her work. She is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
She has two daughters, Camille (born in 1987) and Lily (1996). She and her husband, Steven Hopp, live on a farm in southern Appalachia where they raise an extensive vegetable garden and Icelandic sheep.
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Book Review: 'Flight Behavior,' By Barbara Kingsolver Barbara Kingsolver's seventh novel addresses global warming and the failings of public education through the story of a Tennessee woman whose ...
Book Review Today's Paper ... FLIGHT BEHAVIOR. By Barbara Kingsolver. 436 pp. Harper/HarperCollins Publishers. $28.99. Dominique Browning is the senior director of MomsCleanAirForce.org. She ...
In 2004 Barbara Kingsolver moved from Tucson, where she had lived since 1978, to southern Appalachia. This marked a return to her roots, migrating back to an ancestral place, like the butterflies in her latest novel, Flight Behavior might once have done. She must feel right at home there as she has written a wonderful book set in the fictional Appalachian town of Feathertown, Tennessee.
Yet the forces set loose in this way will be nothing to those that will be sweep the world as it gets warmer and warmer, Kingsolver is telling us. In general, Flight Behaviour is an impressive ...
ISBN: -375-70376-4. Page Count: 704. Publisher: Pantheon. Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010. Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2000. Categories: LITERARY FICTION. Share your opinion of this book. A young woman discovers her rural Tennessee community has been invaded by monarch butterflies in this effective tear-jerker cum environmental jeremiad ...
Barbara Kingsolver's paradoxical solution is to set her story on a sheep farm in the depressed Bible Belt. By recruiting traditional images of Heaven, Hell and sacrificial lambs to convey the ...
Ms. Kingsolver was a biologist before she was an author and is still a farmer and resident of Appalachia. "Flight Behavior" is ambitious in its scope, marrying Dellarobia's wisenheimer ...
Book Summary. Flight Behavior takes on one of the most contentious subjects of our time: climate change. With a deft and versatile empathy Kingsolver dissects the motives that drive denial and belief in a precarious world. Flight Behavior transfixes from its opening scene, when a young woman's narrow experience of life is thrown wide with the ...
The New York Times Sunday Book Review. All sorts of 'crazy wanting,' both prosaic and earth-shattering, are shot through the intricate tapestry of Barbara Kingsolver's majestic and brave new novel, Flight Behavior. Her subject is both intimate and enormous, centered on one woman, one family, one small town no one has ever heard of ...
June 3, 2014 by Midge Raymond. Barbara Kingsolver's Flight Behavior does all that a great work of eco-fiction should, addressing the issues (climate change) without sacrificing the story (a woman whose small-town world is broken wide open by a mysterious act of nature). Dellarobia Turnbow, married at seventeen due to a pregnancy in which she ...
At the beginning of Barbara Kingsolver's new novel, Flight Behavior, a bored young woman wants to torpedo her life.Twenty-eight-year-old Dellarobia leaves her two kids with her mother-in-law and ...
Flight Behavior is a 2012 novel by Barbara Kingsolver. ... Reviewing the book in The New York Times, Dominique Browning wrote of "the intricate tapestry of Barbara Kingsolver's majestic and brave new novel", adding, "Her subject is both intimate and enormous, centered on one woman, one family, one small town no one has ever heard of — until ...
Flight Behavior: A Novel. Paperback - Deckle Edge, June 4, 2013. by Barbara Kingsolver (Author) 4.3 9,258 ratings. Editors' pick Best Literature & Fiction. See all formats and editions. Save 50% on 1 when you buy 2 Shop items. New York Times Bestseller. "An intricate story that entwines considerations of faith and faithlessness, inquiry ...
Barbara Kingsolver's Flight Behavior shows how different social and economic groups view global warming and related environmental issues. Flight Behavior allows readers to go inside the southern Appalachian landscape that Barbara Kingsolver has held in a literary embrace over the last few years with works like Prodigal Summer and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.
Flight Behavior Barbara Kingsolver, 2012 HarperCollins 464 pp. ISBN-13: 9780062124272 Summary Flight Behavior transfixes from its opening scene, when a young woman's narrow experience of life is thrown wide with the force of a raging fire. In the lyrical language of her native Appalachia, Barbara Kingsolver bares the rich, tarnished humanity of her novel's inhabitants and unearths the modern ...
Flight Behavior. by Barbara Kingsolver. Publication Date: June 4, 2013. Genres: Fiction. Paperback: 464 pages. Publisher: Harper Perennial. ISBN-10: 0062124277. ISBN-13: 9780062124272. A site dedicated to book lovers providing a forum to discover and share commentary about the books and authors they enjoy.
Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver is a quiet, subtle kind of novel that worms its way under your skin before you know it. It follows a young mother, Dellarobia, who is coming to the realization that the dreams she had for her future are drifting further and further from her reach as she raises her two children as a quite reluctant stay-at-home mother.
Book Review: 'Flight Behavior,' By Barbara Kingsolver | Giving Wing To A Story Of Climate Change Barbara Kingsolver's new novel starts when millions of monarch butterflies alight on a mountain in ...
The New York Times Sunday Book Review. All sorts of 'crazy wanting,' both prosaic and earth-shattering, are shot through the intricate tapestry of Barbara Kingsolver's majestic and brave new novel, Flight Behavior. Her subject is both intimate and enormous, centered on one woman, one family, one small town no one has ever heard of ...
Barbara Kingsolver returns to native ground in her fourteenth book, Flight Behavior. The novel is a heady exploration of climate change, along with media exploitation and political opportunism that lie at the root of what may be our most urgent modern dilemma. Set in Appalachia, a region to which Kingsolver has returned often in both her ...
Flight Behavior is a brilliant and suspenseful novel set in present day Appalachia; a breathtaking parable of catastrophe and denial that explores how the complexities we inevitably encounter in life lead us to believe in our particular chosen truths. Kingsolver's riveting story concerns a young wife and mother on a failing farm in rural ...
Barbara Kingsolver's 2012 novel Flight Behavior presents a compelling symbolic connection between Dellarobia Turnbow, an unhappy farm wife who secretly dreams of running away from it all, and a surprising migration of monarch butterflies that alight upon her in-law's property in Feathertown, Tennessee. As the butterflies struggle to survive and reproduce to continue their species ...
Amazon Best Books of the Month, November 2012: In what may be the first novel to realistically imagine the near-term impact of "global weirding," Barbara Kingsolver sets her latest story in rural Appalachia . In fictional Feathertown, Tennessee, Dellarobia Turnbow--on the run from her stifling life--charges up the mountain above her husband ...
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