That is not the question.
Visiting Carl Sandburg’s home last October was the highlight of our trip, so it came as no surprise to Brian when we began making plans for this month’s getaway to the mountains, I went in search of another author’s home to tour.
Enter Thomas Wolfe. I’d read bits and pieces about him over the past couple of years, but nothing more. One visit to his site this week, however, and I was hooked.
I’ve set out to read his largely autobiographical novel, “Look Homeward, Angel”, in hopes of becoming better acquainted with his work, as well as the history that surrounds his home place in Asheville.
After reading the following paragraph found on page 84, there wasn’t a smidgen of doubt that completing the remaining 424 pages would not only be possible prior to our upcoming tour, but a pure delight:
“And they would go across the Square to the cool depth of the drugstore, stand before the onyx splendor of the fountain, under the revolving wooden fans, and drink chill gaseous beverages, limeade so cold it made the head ache, or foaming ice-cream soda, which returned in sharp delicious belches down his tender nostrils.”
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