The Diaries of Adam and Eve

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"With his trademark charm and wit, Mark Twain (1835-1910) tells the Garden of Eden story in the first person, allegedly deciphering the newly discovered diaries of the legendary father and mother of the human race. In Twain's "translation" Adam comes across as the original couch potato, grumpily uninterested at first in his new female companion who keeps pestering him with her all-too-innovative ideas. Eve, by contrast, is the talkative, ever-curious experimenter whose inquisitive nature prompts her to name all the animals in the garden and leads ...
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Overview

"With his trademark charm and wit, Mark Twain (1835-1910) tells the Garden of Eden story in the first person, allegedly deciphering the newly discovered diaries of the legendary father and mother of the human race. In Twain's "translation" Adam comes across as the original couch potato, grumpily uninterested at first in his new female companion who keeps pestering him with her all-too-innovative ideas. Eve, by contrast, is the talkative, ever-curious experimenter whose inquisitive nature prompts her to name all the animals in the garden and leads her to the discovery of fire, among other things."--BOOK JACKET.
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Editorial Reviews

Brandon M. Stickney
If Adam could get Eve to stop talking for just one minute, he could appreciate her beauty and fall in love with her. So opens this curious set of intertwined diaries of Earth's first two human inhabitants as "translated" with humor, compassion and understanding by Twain. Written on and off in Twain's last years, the fascinating "Extracts from Adam's Diary" and "Eve's Diary" are combined here as a powerful and tender narrative exploring what it might have been like to be the first person(s) on the planet. Twain captures the silliness of the biblical concept with ease and broadens the story with the pair's dialogue and opinion - something left out by the writers of the Old Testament.
Eve and Adam couldn't be more different. Adam is a lazy lunkhead who's perfectly happy to live and not question anything. Eve, however, is scientific and considers herself "an experiment" placed on Earth by an unknown force. She pursues Adam with vigor, following him around the garden and thwarting his attempts to escape from her. "This new creature (Eve)," Adam relates, "is a good deal in the way. It is always hanging around and following me. I don't like this. I'm not used to company. I wish it would stay with the rest of the animals." She is trouble from the beginning. Eve enthusiastically involves herself in the lives of all the animals, including a talking snake she eagerly befriends. "She talks to it and it talks back. I can finally get some rest," Adam says, relieved. While Adam is away exploring one afternoon, he sees a field of peaceful animals suddenly turn on each other in battles to the death. He knows immediately what Eve has done back in the garden.
Eve contemplates her actions many years later, after the two have established a home and have had children. Their son Abel has died, which has left great a void for Eve, bringing her mind back to the day she sinned. She reflects, "We could not know it was wrong to disobey the command, for the words were strange to us and we did not understand them. We did not know right from wrong-how should we know? To punish us because we did not do as we were told-ah, how can that be justified?" The diaries are accompanied by biographical narration from celebrated newsman Walter Cronkite, who parallels Adam's expressions of love for Eve to Twain's love for his wife, Olivia Langdon. For Adam and Twain the company of both women was an inspiration and a security, just like being in Eden.
Foreword
From the Publisher
"The father of American literature."  —William Faulkner
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780872910126
  • Publisher: Coronado Press, Incorporated
  • Publication date: 1/1/1971
  • Pages: 91

Meet the Author

Samuel Langhorne Clemens (1835–1910), better known by the pen name Mark Twain, was an American humorist, satirist, social critic, lecturer, and writer. Twain is most noted for his novels The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

Biography

Mark Twain was born Samuel Langhorne Clemens on November 30, 1835, in Florida, Missouri; his family moved to the port town of Hannibal four years later. His father, an unsuccessful farmer, died when Twain was eleven. Soon afterward the boy began working as an apprentice printer, and by age sixteen he was writing newspaper sketches. He left Hannibal at eighteen to work as an itinerant printer in New York, Philadelphia, St. Louis, and Cincinnati. From 1857 to 1861 he worked on Mississippi steamboats, advancing from cub pilot to licensed pilot.

After river shipping was interrupted by the Civil War, Twain headed west with his brother Orion, who had been appointed secretary to the Nevada Territory. Settling in Carson City, he tried his luck at prospecting and wrote humorous pieces for a range of newspapers. Around this time he first began using the pseudonym Mark Twain, derived from a riverboat term. Relocating to San Francisco, he became a regular newspaper correspondent and a contributor to the literary magazine the Golden Era. He made a five-month journey to Hawaii in 1866 and the following year traveled to Europe to report on the first organized tourist cruise. The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County and Other Sketches (1867) consolidated his growing reputation as humorist and lecturer.

After his marriage to Livy Langdon, Twain settled first in Buffalo, New York, and then for two decades in Hartford, Connecticut. His European sketches were expanded into The Innocents Abroad (1869), followed by Roughing It (1872), an account of his Western adventures; both were enormously successful. Twain's literary triumphs were offset by often ill-advised business dealings (he sank thousands of dollars, for instance, in a failed attempt to develop a new kind of typesetting machine, and thousands more into his own ultimately unsuccessful publishing house) and unrestrained spending that left him in frequent financial difficulty, a pattern that was to persist throughout his life.

Following The Gilded Age (1873), written in collaboration with Charles Dudley Warner, Twain began a literary exploration of his childhood memories of the Mississippi, resulting in a trio of masterpieces --The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876), Life on the Mississippi (1883), and finally The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885), on which he had been working for nearly a decade. Another vein, of historical romance, found expression in The Prince and the Pauper (1882), the satirical A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889), and Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc (1896), while he continued to draw on his travel experiences in A Tramp Abroad (1880) and Following the Equator (1897). His close associates in these years included William Dean Howells, Bret Harte, and George Washington Cable, as well as the dying Ulysses S. Grant, whom Twain encouraged to complete his memoirs, published by Twain's publishing company in 1885.

For most of the 1890s Twain lived in Europe, as his life took a darker turn with the death of his daughter Susy in 1896 and the worsening illness of his daughter Jean. The tone of Twain's writing also turned progressively more bitter. The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson (1894), a detective story hinging on the consequences of slavery, was followed by powerful anti-imperialist and anticolonial statements such as 'To the Person Sitting in Darkness' (1901), 'The War Prayer' (1905), and 'King Leopold's Soliloquy' (1905), and by the pessimistic sketches collected in the privately published What Is Man? (1906). The unfinished novel The Mysterious Stranger was perhaps the most uncompromisingly dark of all Twain's later works. In his last years, his financial troubles finally resolved, Twain settled near Redding, Connecticut, and died in his mansion, Stormfield, on April 21, 1910.

Author biography courtesy of Random House, Inc.

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    1. Also Known As:
      Samuel Langhorne Clemens (real name); Sieur Louis de Conte
    1. Date of Birth:
      November 30, 1835
    2. Place of Birth:
      Florida, Missouri
    1. Date of Death:
      April 21, 1910
    2. Place of Death:
      Redding, Connecticut

Read an Excerpt

The Diaries of Adam and Eve


By MARK TWAIN, F. Strothmann, Lester Ralph

Dover Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Dover Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-29609-8


CHAPTER 1

Extrarts From Adam's Diary

Translated from the original MS.


Monday


This new creature with the long hair is a good deal in the way. It is always hanging around and following me about. I don't like this; I am not used to company. I wish it would stay with the other animals.... Cloudy to-day, wind in the east; think we shall have rain.... We? Where did I get that word? ... I remember now—the new creature uses it.


Tuesday

Been examining the great waterfall. It is the finest thing on the estate, I think. The new creature calls it Niagara Falls—why, I am sure I do not know. Says it looks like Niagara Palls. That is not a reason; it is mere waywardness and imbecility. I get no chance to name anything myself. The new creature names everything that comes along, before I can get in a protest. And always that same pretext is offered—it looks like the thing. There is the dodo, for instance. Says the moment one looks at it one sees at a glance that it "looks like a dodo." It will have to keep that name, no doubt. It wearies me to fret about it, and it does no good, anyway. Dodo! It looks no more like a dodo than I do.


Wednesday

Built me a shelter against the rain, but could not have it to myself in peace. The new creature intruded. When I tried to put it out it shed water out of the holes it looks with, and wiped it away with the back of its paws, and made a noise such as some of the other animals make when they are in distress. I wish it would not talk; it is always talking. That sounds like a cheap fling at the poor creature, a slur; but I do not mean it so. I have never heard the human voice before, and any new and strange sound intruding itself here upon the solemn hush of these dreaming solitudes offends my ear and seems a false note. And this new sound is so Close to me; it is right at my shoulder, right at my ear, first on one side and then on the other, and I am used only to sounds that are more or less distant from me.


Friday

The naming goes recklessly on, in spite of anything I can do. I had a very good name for the estate, and it was musical and pretty—Garden-of-Eden. Privately, I continue to call it that, but not any longer publicly. The new creature says it is all woods and rocks and scenery, and therefore has no resemblance to a garden. Says it looks like a park, and does not look like anything but a park. Consequently, without consulting me, it has been new-named —Niagara Falls Park. This is sufficiently high-handed, it seems to me. And already there is a sign up:

KEEP OFF THE GRASS


My life is not as happy as it was.


Saturday

The new creature eats too much fruit. We are going to run short, most likely. "We" again—that is its word; mine too, now, from hearing it so much. Good deal of fog this morning. I do not go out in the fog myself. The new creature does. It goes out in all weathers, and stumps right in with its muddy feet. And talks. It used to be so pleasant and quiet here.


Sunday

Pulled through. This day is getting to be more and more trying. It was selected and set apart last November as a day of rest. I already had six of them per week, before. This morning found the new creature trying to clod apples out of that forbidden tree.


Monday

The new creature says its name is Eve. That is all right, I have no objections. Says it is to call it by when I want it to come. I said it was superfluous, then. The word evidently raised me in its respect; and indeed it is a large, good word, and will bear repetition. It says it is not an It, it is a She. This is probably doubtful; yet it is all one to me; what she is were nothing to me if she would but go by herself and not talk.


Tuesday

She has littered the whole estate with execrable names and offensive signs:

* This way to the Whirlpool.

* This way to Goat Island.

* Cave of the Winds this Way.


She says this park would make a tidy summer resort, if there was any custom for it. Summer resort—another invention of hers—just words, without any meaning. What is a summer resort? But it is best not to ask her, she has such a rage for explaining.


Friday

She has taken to beseeching me to stop going over the Falls. What harm does it do? Says it makes her shudder. I wonder why. I have always done it — always liked the plunge, and the excitement, and the coolness. I supposed it was what the Falls were for. They have no other use that I can see, and they must have been made for something. She says they were only made for scenery— like the rhinoceros and the mastodon.

I went over the Falls in a barrel-not satisfactory to her. Went over in a tub—still not satisfactory. Swam the Whirlpool and the Rapids in a fig-leaf suit. It got much damaged. Hence, tedious complaints about my extravagance. I am too much hampered here. What I need is change of scene.


Saturday

I escaped last Tuesday night, and travelled two days, and built me another shelter, in a secluded place, and obliterated my tracks as well as I could, but she hunted me out by means of a beast which she has tamed and calls a wolf, and came making that pitiful noise again, and shedding that water out of the places she looks with. I was obliged to return with her, but will presently emigrate again, when occasion offers. She engages herself in many foolish things: among others, trying to study out why the animals called lions and tigers live on grass and flowers, when, as she says, the sort of teeth they wear would indicate that they were intended to eat each other. This is foolish, because to do that would be to kill each other, and that would introduce what, as I understand it, is called "death"; and death, as I have been told, has not yet entered the Park. Which is a pity, on some accounts.


Sunday

Pulled through.


Monday

I believe I see what the week is for: it is to give time to rest up from the weariness of Sunday. It seems a good idea.... She has been climbing that tree again. Clodded her out of it. She said nobody was looking. Seems to consider that a sufficient justification for chancing any dangerous thing. Told her that. The word justification moved her admiration— and envy too, I thought. It is a good word.


Thursday

She told me she was made out of a rib taken from my body. This is at least doubtful, if not more than that. I have not missed any rib.... She is in much trouble about the buzzard; says grass does not agree with it; is afraid she can't raise it; thinks it was intended to live on decayed flesh. The buzzard must get along the best it can with what is provided. We cannot overturn the whole scheme to accommodate the buzzard.


Saturday

She fell in the pond yesterday, when she was looking at herself in it, which she is always doing. She nearly strangled, and said it was most uncomfortable. This made her sorry for the creatures which live in there, which she calls fish, for she continues to fasten names on to things that don't need them and don't come when they are called by them, which is a matter of no consequence to her, as she is such a numskull anyway; so she got a lot of them out and brought them in last night and put them in my bed to keep warm, but I have noticed them now and then all day, and I don't see that they are any happier there than they were before, only quieter. When night comes I shall throw them out-doors. I will not sleep with them again, for I find them clammy and unpleasant to lie among when a person hasn't anything on.


Sunday

Pulled through.


Tuesday

She has taken up with a snake now. The other animals are glad, for she was always experimenting with them and bothering them; and I am glad, because the snake talks, and this enables me to get a rest.


Friday

She says the snake advises her to try the fruit of that tree, and says the result will be a great and fine and noble education. I told her there would be another result, too — it would introduce death into the world. That was a mistake—it had been better to keep the remark to myself; it only gave her an idea—she could save the sick buzzard, and furnish fresh meat to the despondent lions and tigers. I advised her to keep away from the tree. She said she wouldn't. I foresee trouble. Will emigrate.


Wednesday

I have had a variegated time. I escaped that night, and rode a horse all night as fast as he could go, hoping to get clear out of the Park and hide in some other country before the trouble should begin; but it was not to be. About an hour after sunup, as I was riding through a flowery plain where thousands of animals were grazing, slumbering, or playing with each other, according to their wont, all of a sudden they broke into a tempest of frightful noises, and in one moment the plain was in a frantic commotion and every beast was destroying its neighbor. I knew what it meant—Eve had eaten that fruit, and death was come into the world.... The tigers ate my horse, paying no attention when I ordered them to desist, and they would even have eaten me if I had stayed—which I didn't, but went away in much haste.... I found this place, outside the Park, and was fairly comfortable for a few days, but she has found me out. Found me out, and has named the place Tonawanda—says it looks like that. In fact, I was not sorry she came, for there are but meagre pickings here, and she brought some of those apples. I was obliged to eat them, I was so hungry. It was against my principles, but I find that principles have no real force except when one is well fed.... She came curtained in boughs and bunches of leaves, and when I asked her what she meant by such nonsense, and snatched them away and threw them down, she tittered and blushed. I had never seen a person titter and blush before, and to me it seemed unbecoming and idiotic. She said I would soon know how it was myself. This was correct. Hungry as I was, I laid down the apple half eaten—certainly the best one I ever saw, considering the lateness of the season—and arrayed myself in the discarded boughs and branches, and then spoke to her with some severity and ordered her to go and get some more and not make such a spectacle of herself. She did it, and after this we crept down to where the wild-beast battle had been, and collected some skins, and I made her patch together a couple of suits proper for public occasions. They are uncomfortable, it is true, but stylish, and that is the main point about clothes.... I find she is a good deal of a companion. I see I should be lonesome and depressed without her, now that I have lost my property. Another thing, she says it is ordered that we work for our living hereafter. She will be useful. I will superintend.


Ten Days Later

She accuses me of being the cause of our disaster! She says, with apparent sincerity and truth, that the Serpent assured her that the forbidden fruit was not apples, it was chestnuts. I said I was innocent, then, for I had not eaten any chestnuts. She said the Serpent informed her that "chestnut" was a figurative term meaning an aged and mouldy joke. I turned pale at that, for I have made many jokes to pass the weary time, and some of them could have been of that sort, though I had honestly supposed that they were new when I made them. She asked me if I had made one just at the time of the catastrophe. I was obliged to admit that I had made one to myself, though not aloud. It was this. I was thinking about the Falls, and I said to myself, "How wonderful it is to see that vast body of water tumble down there!" Then in an instant a bright thought flashed into my head, and I let it fly, saying, "It would be a deal more wonderful to see it tumble up there!"—and I was just bout to kill myself with laughing at it when all nature broke loose in war and death, and I had to flee for my life. "There," she said, with triumph, "that is just it; the Serpent mentioned that very jest, and called it the First Chestnut, and said it was coeval with the creation." Alas, I am indeed to blame. Would that I were not witty; oh, would that I had never had that radiant thought!


Next Year

We have named it Cain. She caught it while I was up country-trapping on the North Shore of the Erie; caught it in the timber a couple of miles from our dug-out — or it might have been four, she isn't certain which. It resembles us in some ways, and may be a relation. That is what she thinks, but this is an error, in my judgment. The difference in size warrants the conclusion that it is a different and new kind of animal —a fish, perhaps, though when I put it in the water to see, it sank, and she plunged in and snatched it out before there was opportunity for the experiment to determine the matter. I still think it is a fish, but she is indifferent about what it is, and will not let me have it to try. I do not understand this. The coming of the creature seems to have changed her whole nature and made her unreasonable about experiments. She thinks more of it than she does of any of the other animals, but is not able to explain why. Her mind is disordered—everything shows it. Sometimes she carries the fish in her arms half the night when it complains and wants to get to the water. At such times the water comes out of the places in her face that she looks out of, and she pats the fish on the back and makes soft sounds with her mouth to soothe it, and betrays sorrow and solicitude in a hundred ways. I have never seen her do like this with any other fish, and it troubles me greatly. She used to carry the young tigers around so, and play with them, before we lost our property; but it was only play; she never took on about them like this when their dinner disagreed with them.


Sunday

She doesn't work Sundays, but lies around all tired out, and likes to have the fish wallow over her; and she makes fool noises to amuse it, and pretends to chew its paws, and that makes it laugh. I have not seen a fish before that could laugh. This makes me doubt.... I have come to like Sunday myself. Superintending all the week tires a body so. There ought to be more Sundays. In the old days they were tough, but now they come handy.


Wednesday

It isn't a fish. I cannot quite make out what it is. It makes curious, devilish noises when not satisfied, and says "goo-goo" when it is. It is not one of us, for it doesn't walk; it is not a bird, for it doesn't fly; it is not a frog, for it doesn't hop; it is not a snake, for it doesn't crawl; I feel sure it is not a fish, though I cannot get a chance to find out whether it can swim or not. It merely lies around, and mostly on its back, with its feet up. I have not seen any other animal do that before. I said I believed it was an enigma, but she only admired the word without understanding it. In my judgment it is either an enigma or some kind of a bug. If it dies, I will take it apart and see what its arrangements are. I never had a thing perplex me so.


Three Months Later

The perplexity augments instead of diminishing. I sleep but little. It has ceased from lying around, and goes about on its four legs now. Yet it differs from the other four-legged animals in that its front legs are unusually short, consequently this causes the main part of its person to stick up uncomfortably high in the air, and this is not attractive. It is built much as we are, but its method of travelling shows that it is not of our breed. The short front legs and long hind ones indicate that it is of the kangaroo family, but it is a marked variation of the species, since the true kangaroo hops, whereas this one never does. Still, it is a curious and interesting variety, and has not been catalogued before. As I discovered it, I have felt justified in securing the credit of the discovery by attaching my name to it, and hence have called it Kangaroorum Adamiensis.... It must have been a young one when it came, for it has grown exceedingly since. It must be five times as big, now, as it was then, and when discontented is able to make from twenty-two to thirty-eight times the noise it made at first. Coercion does not modify this, but has the contrary effect. For this reason I discontinued the system. She reconciles it by persuasion, and by giving it things which she had previously told it she wouldn't give it. As already observed, I was not at home when it first came, and she told me she found it in the woods. It seems odd that it should be the only one, yet it must be so, for I have worn myself out these many weeks trying to find another one to add to my collection, and for this one to play with; for surely then it would be quieter, and we could tame it more easily. But I find none, nor any vestige of any; and strangest of all, no tracks. It has to live on the ground, it cannot help itself; therefore, how does it get about without leaving a track? I have set a dozen traps, but they do no good. I catch all small animals except that one; animals that merely go into the trap out of curiosity, I think, to see what the milk is there for. They never drink it.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Diaries of Adam and Eve by MARK TWAIN, F. Strothmann, Lester Ralph. Copyright © 2012 Dover Publications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
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.

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Sort by: Showing all of 12 Customer Reviews
  • Posted August 22, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    READ IT!!! EXCELLENT BOOK!!!!

    This is one of the best stories by Mark Twain I've ever read.
    This is always my 'go to' book when I want a book that I can just fall into and forget about everything except laughing and enjoying myself.

    I have read this story (the Diary of Adam and Eve) at least 15 times and will likely read it at least 100 more in my life. :)

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  • Posted December 26, 2008

    The last great valentine gift of mankind

    To understand this book it is in the best interest of the reader to step away from the absolute destruction of Genesis and all the other biblical stories and read this from the point of view of the worst pick-up line ever uttered in a bar "If I was the last man on earth and you were the last women on earth, we would...". This book is what I consider the greatest valentine gift to ever give a women in you life. This book conveys the very essence of love from a totally brilliant man's point of view... Thank god for Sunday's, "I pulled through". I will mutter when laying in bed with my wife "whereever shall be Eve, shall be Eden", conveys a meaning of love that I cannot express in words, but as I gave this book to my wife when we were dating, she TOTALLY understands what I am meaning. When Eve gives her last statement, and if you are not feeling sentimental, I feel sorry for you.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 25, 2008

    A beautiful book for all Twain lovers to enjoy

    The Diaries of Adam and Eve by Mark Twain is an enchanting account of a biblical tale told in the most non-biblical fashion imaginable. Twain inserts his unmistakable wit in a hilarious story, and throws the reader completely off guard in the friendliest way possible: he takes Adam, the lazy, boring male looking for relaxation and enjoyment and pairs him up with Eve, the inquisitive, curious girl who is searching constantly through her thoughts and is looking for a deep connection with Adam. There is a constant humorous interplay between the two figures, as Eve is constantly croaching upon Adam and dying to know whats going on in his mind, while Adam just wants a day off and wants Eve to stop nagging him. This book is also a touching love story. Adam and Eve find themselves to be the only human beings around, and are a constant symbol for the traits of a typical male-female relationship. There are countless misunderstandings through gender roles, and disagreements so big that they make the earth shake (quite literally, the disagreement over the apple did exactly that)...they even find a baby and have disagreements over him and what their goals are to nurse him. The book, in many ways, is also a comment on Mark Twain's perception of religion. He takes the very traditional and elemental story of Adam and Eve, the ultimate story of man and woman and their traditional places in society, and throws it out of proportion, making it funny, enjoyable, and truly as nonreligious as possible. Religion is scarcely mentioned in the book, if at all, which is one of the main reasons Mark Twain so daringly chose the topic of Adam and Eve to express his disinterest in religion. In fact, the characters, specifically Eve, question their existence and the perception of religion themselves, mostly substituting Mark Twain's own thoughts on the topic. Naturally, both the accounts of Adam and Eve are incredibly different, Adam's being a short, lazy description of his days in the Garden of Eden, and Eve's being a meticolously detailed description and fascination with the environment around her. However, despite the shocking differences between the two, the final conclusion of the book is one of complete and total love from both sides, closing the book in a wonderfully pleasant and heartwarming way.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 21, 2007

    Amazing!

    An outstanding piece of literature written by Twain, creating believable points of view of Adam and Eve. I was put on an emotional roller coaster, laughing, crying, sympathizing and reasoning. I think this is a classic masterpiece one that should be a school requirement even! You will surely enjoy this quick read and soon be passing it along to others!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 29, 2007

    I had ...

    never even heard of the book before I saw it in the library. I got it and read it within a couple of hours. Amazing book. I love how Twain's mind works and how he understood the thinking of both men and women.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 29, 2004

    huh.....never knew......

    Loved this audio book! Funny, Insightful, and enticing! This book held me captive and could not put it down for a second. Twains creativeness is awesome. At times, I'd forget Adam and Eve were the very first couple. Twain describes Eve, and all woman kind, wonderfully and to a T. An awareness came over me about how we (women) truly are. No mention of Gods scoldings or conversations with Adam and Eve. I would have liked to have heard HIS voice calling.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 15, 2002

    classic

    This is a literary classic not to be missed. Easily read over just a few hours, it is delightful and thought provoking. A great introduction to Twain if you haven't read him before.

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    Posted April 6, 2010

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    Posted January 15, 2010

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    Posted November 20, 2008

    No text was provided for this review.

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    Posted December 10, 2008

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 6, 2011

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