Set over the course of one week in 1906, Divine Sarah reimagines the life of the legendary Sarah Bernhardt. Facing protests from the newly formed League of Decency, the controversial actress is forced to move her latest production from Los Angeles to the new development of Venice Beach. Though this battle is only the most recent skirmish in a tumultuous life, the sixty-two-year-old Sarah is exhausted and beginning to lose the will to fight.Plagued by maladies of the flesh and the spirit, she begins to search her soul, revealing the truths of her life, including the self-doubt and insecurity hidden beneath an extravagant and confrontational lifestyle. Yet Sarah is not alone in her battle. Vince Baker, an ambitious news reporter, faces his own demons even as he tries to uncover the truth about the greatest actress of the Victorian Age. This P.S. edition features an extra 16 pages of insights into the book, including author interviews, recommended reading, and more.

What is included with this book?

The New copy of this book will include any supplemental materials advertised. Please check the title of the book to determine if it should include any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.

The Used, Rental and eBook copies of this book are not guaranteed to include any supplemental materials. Typically, only the book itself is included. This is true even if the title states it includes any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.

Divine Sarah
A Novel

Chapter One

May 13, 1906

She barely noticed the blind man's cane lying by theside of the road. In fact if she were forced to describe it, SarahBernhardt might have said that she assumed it was white withthose little red soldier stripes near the top, although she couldn'tbe certain. She would recall that it was unusually long, a detailshe'd remember because it would seem almost impossible to losesomething of that size. The crook at the top formed a handle.Other than that, the only other notable aspect was that therewere two spent cigarettes beside the cane. One that had beenstamped and crushed, creased by the impatient imprint of aboot's sole. The other lay smoldering. Smoked down to the end,but with a corner still bright in ember red, and a disfi gured trailof smoke streaming out. It was hard to imagine that a blind manwould just lose his cane. He should be stumbling around, hisarms extended, fi ngers reaching for direction in Oedipus's fear.

She looked one way up Rose Street, then back down theother.

Empty.

She envied the thought of the mysterious blind manliberated from his cane, suddenly free to stumble and fall, withno hardwood guide clanking against metal streetlamps to keephim on track, as though he were actually seeing. She becamejealous imagining his discovery of accidentally stumbling alongthe rough face of a concrete wall, his virgin hands feeling theintense heat and sharpened cracks. Or the feeling of his heartskipping a beat as he stepped off the ledge of the sidewalk,momentarily uncertain at the sensation of falling, onlyto discover the pleasure of solid ground. Everything wouldbe new and free from constraint. He probably threw the caneaway, declaring freedom for the fi rst time in his monitoredand scripted life.

What she had really wanted to do was pick up the caneand smash it through the nearest window in intense anger,rewarded by the sound of shattered glass. Instead, Sarah leftthe cane by the side of the road as a sign of hope, praying thatthe blind man didn't fi nd that freedom was too deadly.

She tried to find a street sign. Sarah Bernhardt wassixty-one years old and again found herself walking downunfamiliar streets. She didn't want to get lost. Lord knowsshe was a compass with no needle. Practically blind herselfoutside of a theater or hotel or restaurant. She sometimeswished they would stencil in blocking patterns along everystreet she trudged, then she could just travel back and forthbetween white V'd line to white V'd line. Sarah looked overher shoulder at the King George Hotel, raising her stare untilit settled on the fifth floor, just beyond halfway, to the window in the center. She wanted to make sure she had left a light onas a beacon. A North Star to guide her back. She was so furiouswhen she had left, and she couldn't recall exactly what shehad or hadn't done, other than try to kick the newspaperacross the room, and when it wrapped stuck around her toe,she ripped it off and heaved it violently toward the mirror,where it sailed down in confused grace into little paper boatsand tunnels. When she slammed the door, she heard thepapers rustling in a discomforting little whisper. She waspretty sure she had turned on the light out of habit. She hadn'tcared. All she had wanted was to get away from the room, pastthe doting concierge, and out into the faceless night.

She was accustomed to playing Los Angeles -- where shealways played -- and she didn't need any beacons or stagemarks to find her way along Broadway, passing theaters likethe Merced, where she remembered seeing the booking onthe itinerary. Today had actually started last night in Tucson,Arizona, at the tail end of a restorative two-day retreat. Max hadreached her by phone, speaking with an almost conspiratoriallack of words, saying he was glad that he had found her, andthat he hated having to be fi ve hundred miles away right now."There has been a slight change of plans," he had said.

She asked him what.

"Venice." His voice was quieter than usual, void of theroutine banter.

"Italy?"

He had been kind enough not to laugh or condemn her forthe obviousness of her question. That should have been thefirst sign. "We're taking La Dame aux Camélias up the road toOcean Beach. Venice of America," he had said. "Things havegotten suddenly complicated in Los Angeles."

"Like what?"

"It is too much to explain by telephone, but it's all for thebetter, believe me. I'll be there a day and a half behind you."

"A day and a half by myself?"

"You won't even be there until tomorrow night. That'sreally only a day alone. I'm getting out of Santa Fe as fast as Ican. But it's all set. Terms are negotiated."

"But, Molly, I need you here to run through lines."

"Marguerite Gautier's? You have said those a thousand timesor more."

"It is the last part that is troubling me. The final scene.I can't manage to let the disease take her. I am too much incontrol of the sickness. I am giving it its life."

"You are overthinking it."

"It is a matter of control. Recently, Marguerite'sconsumption has lost the power and insidiousness. I just can'tfind it right now. The sickness just doesn't subsume me. It feelsso tangible."

"I will be there soon."

"Or perhaps I am bored with it."

"We will run through that fi nal scene as much as you needin your room."

"In my railcar?"

"You have a suite booked at the King George Hotel."

"An English place? Where is the car?"

Excerpted from Divine Sarah: A Novel by Adam Braver
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.