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THE LEFTOVERS BOOK PDF

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Editorial Reviews. myavr.info Review. Amazon Best Books of the Month, August Author Tom Perrotta is a master at exposing the quiet desperation. The Leftovers. Home · The Leftovers Author: Tom Perrotta. 27 downloads Views KB Size Read more · Leftovers. Read more · Leftovers · Read more. propels the narrative of Tom Perrotta's novel The Leftovers (): two per cent of the world population .. accessed in a PDF format by the viewers. Kevin's.


The Leftovers Book Pdf

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She developed a close I. She used to be a dermatologist. She sold her practice and donated the proceeds to the organization. Laurie had read an article about the Guilty Remnant in the local paper, so she knew that there were at least sixty people living in their compound on Ginkgo Street, an eight-house subdivision that had been deeded to the organization by the developer, a wealthy man named Troy Vincent, who was now living there as an ordinary member, with no special privileges.

Laurie asked. You gonna sell the house? Not right away. Rosalie shook her head, as if amazed by her own boldness.

I kind of wish it was blue or gray or something. Rosalie grimaced. She was one of those hard-line nonsmokers, the kind of person who waved her hand frantically in front of her face whenever she got within twenty feet of a lit cigarette.

You have to do it. Your poor lungs. Not really. You should come with me. Maybe we could be roommates or something. Family: She felt bad even saying the word out loud.

Rosalie had no family to speak of. Rosalie gave a small shrug of resignation.

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It was a beautiful day, full of sunshine and birdsong. The houses looked imposing—sprawling three-story colonials with half-acre lots that probably would have sold for a million dollars or more when they were built. Wow, Pretty swanky.

I know. Rosalie smiled nervously. Almost a year passed before Laurie returned to Ginkgo Street.

Love and Leftovers

It was another spring day, a little cooler, not quite as sunny. This time she was the one dressed in white, carrying a small suitcase. Despite the anxiety that had dogged him all morning, Mayor Kevin Garvey found himself gripped by an unexpected mood of nostalgia as he walked down Washington Boulevard toward the high school parking lot, where the marchers had been told to assemble.

It was half an hour before showtime, the floats lined up and ready to roll, the marching band girding itself for battle, peppering the air with a discordant overture of bleats and toots and halfhearted drumrolls.

Afterward there were softball games and cookouts, a sequence of comforting rituals culminating in the big fireworks display over Fielding Lake, hundreds of rapt faces turned skyward, oohing and wowing at the sizzling pinwheels and slow-blooming starbursts that lit up the darkness, reminding everyone of who they were and where they belonged and why it was all good. Kevin could sense the somber mood as soon as he arrived at the high school, the invisible haze of stale grief and chronic bewilderment thickening the air, causing people to talk more softly and move more tentatively than they normally would at a big outdoor gathering.

On the other hand, he was both surprised and gratified by the turnout, given the cool reception the parade had received when it was first proposed. Some critics thought the timing was wrong Too soon! These objections had faded over time, either because the organizers had done a good job winning over the skeptics, or because people just generally liked a parade, regardless of the occasion.

He hesitated for a moment just inside the line of police barricades, marshaling his strength for what he knew would be a long and difficult day. Everywhere he looked he saw broken people and fresh reminders of suffering. He waved to Martha Reeder, the once-chatty lady who worked the stamp window at the Post Office; she smiled sadly, turning to give him a better look at the homemade sign she was holding.

It featured a poster-sized photograph of her three-year-old granddaughter, a serious child with curly hair and slightly crooked eyeglasses. Kevin felt a sudden powerful urge to flee, to run home and spend the afternoon lifting weights or raking leaves—anything solitary and mindless would do—but it passed quickly, like a hiccup or a shameful sexual fantasy.

Expelling a soft dutiful sigh, he waded into the crowd, shaking hands and calling out names, doing his best impersonation of a small-town politician. Then, just last year, out of the blue, he was presented with a petition signed by two hundred fellow citizens, many of whom he knew well: We, the undersigned, are desperate for leadership in these dark times.

Will you help us take back our town? As much as he disliked the flesh-pressing, backslapping aspect of his new job, Kevin felt an obligation to make himself accessible to his constituents, even the cranks and malcontents who inevitably came out of the woodwork at public events.

Mayor, he drawled, smirking as though there were something inherently ridiculous about the title. You never answer my e-mails. Morning, Ralph.

Sorrento folded his arms across his chest and studied Kevin with an unsettling combination of amusement and disdain. He was a big, thick-bodied man with a buzz cut and a bristly goatee, dressed in grease-stained cargo pants and a thermal-lined hoodie. Even at this hour—it was not yet eleven—Kevin could smell beer on his breath and see that he was looking for trouble. A beagle had been killed on the spot, but a shepherd-lab mix had hobbled away with a bullet in its hind leg, dripping a three-block trail of blood before collapsing on the sidewalk not far from the Little Sprouts Academy on Oak Street.

Watch your language, Kevin warned him, uncomfortably aware of the heads turning in their direction. Nobody likes the dogs, But next time call Animal Control, okay?

Animal Control. Sorrento repeated the words with a contemptuous chuckle. Kevin forced a polite smile. We all are. He leaned in close, his breath sour, his voice low and intimate. Do me a favor, okay? He grinned, trying to look like a badass, but Kevin could see the pain in his eyes, the glassy, pleading look behind the bluster.

If he remembered correctly, Sorrento had lost a daughter, a chubby girl, maybe nine or ten. Tiffany or Britney, a name like that.

Kevin patted him gently on the shoulder. Kevin promised he would, then hurried off, trying to ignore the lump of dread that had suddenly materialized in his gut.

Unlike some of the neighboring towns, Mapleton had never experienced a suicide by cop, but Kevin sensed that Ralph Sorrento was at least fantasizing about the idea. All he could do was raise both hands in a futile attempt to fend off the gossip rag the Reverend was thrusting in his face. Take it, the Reverend said.

The front page featured a photograph of Dr. Kevin had known and admired Dr. Edgers, whose twin sons were the same age as his daughter. People buttonholed her all the time at the soccer field and the supermarket, fishing for free medical advice, but she never seemed resentful about it, or even mildly impatient.

Jesus, Matt. Is this necessary? Reverend Jamison seemed mystified by the question. He was a trim, sandy-haired man of about forty, but his face had gone slack and pouchy in the past couple of years, as if he were aging on an accelerated schedule. Her role was to follow certain individuals around and stare at them to remind them that God was watching. Laurie cut off all contact with her family. He became involved with another cult called The Healing Hug.

The Leftovers: A Novel

The leader of this cult claimed to have the ability to take the pain of the Sudden Departure away from leftovers and absorb it himself. Tom became a follower and initially lost contact with his family. As time passed, Tom realized that their charismatic leader, Holy Wayne, was corrupt and was sexually exploiting young female followers.

Tom ultimately realizes that the cult is not for him. Holy Wayne abandons Christine and his other young wives. A devastated Christine runs off and leaves Tom with her baby. Tom follows hoping for a future with her. She is a leftover who misses her mother and brother and was traumatized when her girlfriend evaporated on October 14th while she was sitting right next to Jill. She had been a conservative straight-A student but took up with Aimee who introduced her to drinking, drugs and sex play.

Kevin is extremely concerned about the welfare of the only member of his family who is left.

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Kevin becomes involved with Nora who lost her husband and two young children on the Day of Departure.He made a face, disapproval mingled with forbearance. Ultimately, the Preacher the author of Ecclesiastes tells us that there is an appointed time for everything Only Kevin's teenaged daughter, Jill, remains, and she's definitely not the sweet "A" student she used to be.

At this point in the story, Job is caught between his faith in the Lord and his desire to charge God with wrongdoing. Christianity is literally and figuratively off the map.

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