The Snow Train: A Novel

by Cummins, Joseph

• ISBN13: 9781888451238
• ISBN10: 1888451238
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2001-09-01
• Publisher: Consortium Book Sales & Dist

Summary

"A groundbreaking first novel that tackles nothing less daunting than the fragile psyche of early childhood."-Kaylie Jones, author of A Soldier's Daughter Never Cries "The Snow Train is intimate, imaginative and, by the startling conclusion, blissful."-Melvin Jules Bukiet, author of After This exceptional debut novel begins in 1952, and tells the story of a young boy whose sister is killed in a car accident, and who is haunted for years to come by her death. Possessed of that rarity-an authentic child's voice-Cummins's novel is a masterly work reminiscent of such 20th-century classics as Dorothy Allison's Bastard out of Carolina and Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. Joseph Cummins was born in Detroit and lives in New Jersey with his wife and daughter.

Excerpts

Chapter One

    "Look at the baby demon," Rosemary said.

    She was holding me under the arms. I could barely stand. I looked into the mirror. The baby demon stared back at me with his big round head and his flat eyes, his bad light-colored eyes. It looked like he had red jam all around his mouth and cheeks. His ears had little scabs on them and his forehead had cuts and scratches.

    "Mommy," I said.

    "Don't even think about crying," said Rosemary. She gave me a little spank on my pajamas. "Mommy can't hear you. Mommy's in her room. I'm in charge now."

    We were standing on the old green couch, looking into the mirror behind it. Rosemary was hurting me under the arms, pinching me. I struggled and she let go and I fell over onto the cushion.

    Rosemary sat down next to me and stuck her legs out over the edge of the couch and kicked them up and down.

    Book , I said, but it wouldn't come out.

    "When you were first born I said, `Put him in the garbage can!' but they didn't listen to me. Now look at you."

    "Book," I said.

    "No book now."

    She got off the couch and pulled me down to the floor with her. The dark furniture crowded around us.

    "Let me see," she said.

    "No."

    "Just let me see a little bit."

    She pulled up my pajama leg. The rash prickled as the air came on it.

    Rosemary stared.

    "You've been scratching."

    She took her finger and lightly touched a red sore, a bad red sore. It was hard at the center.

    "If I was a nurse, I could make it all better."

    She pressed the sore gently.

    "I can hear you scratching all night. I can't stand that sound. I wish we didn't have to sleep in the same room."

    I heard steps. Mommy was there with her skirts all around me.

    "What are you two doing?"

    "I think he scratched," said Rosemary. Her hands left me and she stood up. "I heard him when he was taking his nap."

    "Rosie, he's not a plaything. He's a little boy."

    I thought I was going to cry. Mommy picked me up and I buried my head in her neck. We rocked and bumped to her room. She put me down on the big bed and unbuttoned my pajamas.

    "Shhhh," she said.

    There was much more light in her room and I watched it. It grew out of the window and I saw that it came from the sky. Gretl jumped up on the bed to see me.

    "Shoo," Mommy said. She was frowning.

    My clothes were all off and I was a naked little boy now.

    "Baby demon," I said.

    "Babdeem to you, too," Mommy said. "What are we going to do with you? Wait here."

    She went away. I lay there in the center of the big bed. I was sailing through the world. The sky outside the window rushed through me. We were flying.

    Mommy came back and bent down. She had my big jar of cream. Her face was so close. I put my arms up. My legs kicked.

    "Oh, it's bad today." She made her sound: "Tcch, tchhh, tcchh."

    I closed my eyes. Mommy put the cream all along my arms and slid her hands up and down my chest. My skin shivered. She turned me over and rubbed me on the backs of my legs and behind my knees and on my bum. She took my feet in her hands and rubbed them.

    All over. All over me. My skin rose up and drank. I sighed and squirmed.

    Her face hovered close to my face. She put little dabs on my forehead and my cheeks and my ears. I could feel her breath on my eyelids, puffing on me.

    "Gently," she whispered. "Very gently."

    She moved away from me and I shivered all over. I heard the birdies crying outside the window. She came back with my blanket and puppy and wrapped me up and then lay down next to me. I didn't move. I was falling and we were sailing. In the dark I could feel her sing and I arched up to her:

Little bird, have you heard?

There's a happy sky, happy sky

Somewhe-eere ...

Excerpted from THE SNOW TRAIN by Joseph Cummins. Copyright © 2001 by Joseph Cummins. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.