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My days are full. They last one hour. It is the hour that they give me light. There are pests to be hunted and killed. Cracks in the walls need to be filled with a mortar I compose from loose pebbles and sand. My body needs inspection. My nails need to be filed down against the block wall. An ingrown hair scraped clean. Small ways that bring some order to my life.
When my work is through, I allow myself to languish and think about the times when I was a boy. I like to tilt my face to the light and close my eyes. I can feel the heat of the sunlight then and hear the swish of waves lapping the stones and the trees whispering secrets. I can feel the planks of wood beneath my towel. I hang my arm over the edge of the dock and press just the tips of my fingers into the water's pliant skin without breaking its surface.
I can smell the woodsmoke from the cobblestone fireplace in our small cabin and an occasional whiff of balsam. I can hear the bang of aluminum against the dock and my father asking me to go for a canoe ride. I say yes so as not to disappoint him even though I don't want to leave my mother's side. Her fingertips slide down the back of her page and her thumb snaps its edge as she turns to the next. I can hear the rattle and clang of the dinner bell.
Then my day ends.
I begin by allowing myself to vent, having somehow latched on to the notion that it's good for me. I have screamed myself mute. I have cried myself dry. I have laughed until my stomach convulses in painful knots. I have jabbered insanely to myself, reasoning with, arguing, begging, scolding, and mocking God. Eventually, I grow tired and I am ready to behave. Then I'm like everyone else, struggling to stay busy enough with what I have so I won't think about all the things I don't.
I still take pride in the long hard muscles, taut beneath the bronze skin of my six-foot frame. I have more positions for push-ups than a sex manual has for copulation. Push-ups on my fingertips. Push-ups upside down. Push-ups with my feet braced halfway up the wall. There is a thin metal seam above the door casing. I have calluses on my fingertips that fit nicely into that groove. I do pull-ups four different ways. Frontward with a narrow grip. Frontward with a wide grip. Same thing backward.
I can do five thousand sit-ups. I can run in place. I can jump on one leg and jump on two. I can shuffle from side to side the length of my world six thousand times without stopping. I know eighteen katas from Okinawa and I can do them all, ten times in succession without stopping. Then I sleep.
When I wake up, it's still night. Always. If I can, I go back to sleep. If I can't, I exercise my mind to keep from thinking of her. The velvety handfuls of dark hair in a curtain over my bare chest. The smooth pencil-line scar on her hip.
I can multiply and divide seven-digit numbers in my head. I can integrate and differentiate formulas I make up at random. I can regurgitate the meaning behind every mnemonic device from Pieper's New York State Bar Review.
I need to be strong.
Every sixty days, they come for me. Sixty days is as long as they can put someone into solitary confinement without giving him the opportunity to show that he is ready to behave. When they come for me, I will attack the first person I can get my hands on. I will do as much damage to him as I can because I know I'll get it all back and then some whether I spit in someone's face or tear out an eyeball.
At first, they try to beat it out of you. One at a time, the meanest guards get a chance to claim you from the hole. Then, when they realize that you are strong and that you will never stop, they begin to send the rookies. They will watch from behind the bars and laugh until they've had enough or until they get nervous. It takes six years to work through the digestive system of a maximum-security prison in New York. I am in my third different prison. After today, I believe they will send me to a fourth.
My life didn't used to be like this. There was a time when I had everything.
Excerpted from Exact Revenge by Tim Green Copyright © 2005 by Tim Green . Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Posted May 16, 2005
Twenty years is a long time to wait. It's an eternity when you're confined to a maximum security prison, incarcerated for a crime you didn't commit. That's the dark hole Raymond White finds himself in, and he doesn't know whether he'll ever be able to climb out. White tumbled from the top. He was one of the best, a young lawyer with a high powered firm, a gorgeous girl, and an almost sure road to Congress. Then, he's framed for murder. Once convicted and jailed he has lots of time to figure out who framed him and why. But, there's not much he can do about it when he's held in solitary confinement. Or, is there? He finds a mentor and friend in Lester Cole who's serving life. Together they plan an escape through underground sewers with the promise of a billion dollars they can split once they're on the outside. Cole doesn't get to see freedom, but White does and the actions zooms from there as he follows Cole's advice and exacts revenge. Broadway and film actor Stephen Lang gives an artful performance in this story of a wronged man who's going to make things right - his way. Lang perfectly captures both despair and daring as listeners follow this jet speed adventure. - Gail Cooke
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Posted May 22, 2014
I was told I would not be able to put this book down... I put it down a lot. I found the entire book to be quite slow with no climax. It was not a book that I needed to keep reading to find out what happens next (which usually murder mystery/thriller books are) very disappointed.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted January 2, 2010
First of all, I did not finish this book. No matter how hard I tried, I could not force myself to read all of this terrible terrible book. I'm a huge Count of Monte Cristo fan. I'm not a purist and have enjoyed quite a few re-interpretations. This one is just awful. I realize that in this day and age, the original Count of Monte Cristo may seem full of quirky melodrama and ridiculous characters, but it is important to remember that at the time it was written all of it was new and original. Exact Revenge is full of characters that are so sickeningly stereotypical that I found myself laughing. The worst part of the book is easily the writing style. I felt like I was reading a seventh grader's short story.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 3, 2007
Posted June 15, 2006
I listened to the book on CDs and really enjoyed it. Like another reviewer said, it is really the Count of Monte Christo for modern day readers, but this is what I liked about it. This book really kept me listening, not wanting to stop until the very end. Very good!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 19, 2006
This si the first book i have read by this author and it was REALLY good. I love the way everything was put together and i look foreward to reading some of his other books such as his new novel Kingdom comeWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted December 17, 2005
Posted July 28, 2005
Just finished with 'Exact Revenge'. Have read his other works and this is his finest work todate. I could not put this book down. Brilliant plot, well devloped characters. A must have for Tim Green fans.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 9, 2005
Posted October 13, 2010
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Posted August 17, 2009
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Posted March 7, 2011
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