Kornwolf: A Novelby Tristan Egolf
Tristan Egolf's new novel is a book about the return of an old curse the Kornwolf, a ferocious werewolf whose nocturnal rampaging becomes increasingly impossible to ignore. Kornwolf takes the reader for a good old-fashioned romp in the stubble a journey through the slums and honky tundra of rural Pennsylvania, where nothing quite passes for/i>… See more details below
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Tristan Egolf's new novel is a book about the return of an old curse the Kornwolf, a ferocious werewolf whose nocturnal rampaging becomes increasingly impossible to ignore. Kornwolf takes the reader for a good old-fashioned romp in the stubble a journey through the slums and honky tundra of rural Pennsylvania, where nothing quite passes for good or bad, sublime or dismal, discrete or brash. And then the monotony breaks. Something a freak of creation is running amok in the fields. To solve the mystery, three generations of prodigal sons a writer and hometown boy who swore he'd never come back to Penn's Woods; a middle-aged former pugilist who runs a decrepit boxing gym; and a misfit, mute, beaten-down Amish boy are brought together by the light of a blue moon, in a town called Blue Ball. On one level this is a masterfully orchestrated, hilarious, and compelling take on the classic horror yarn, on another, Kornwolf is a social satire of suburban sprawl, closed minds, and all manners and varieties of self-satisfaction Amish, civilian, or... other in the best tradition of Tom Robbins and George Saunders.
- Grove/Atlantic, Inc.
- Publication date:
- Sold by:
- Barnes & Noble
- NOOK Book
- File size:
- 2 MB
Read an Excerpt
By Tristan Egolf
Grove Atlantic, Inc.Copyright © 2005 Tristan Egolf
All right reserved.
Chapter OneAt once, it was clear Ephraim and Jonathan had made a mistake. And terribly, irreversibly so-there was no way to angle the buggy around with a full lane of steadily oncoming traffic. Their own lane, devoid of an adequate shoulder, was backed up for three hundred yards from the Sprawl Mart-a ten-acre superstore complex-ahead.
An oncoming tour bus gradually slowed to a crawl on approaching Jonathan's buggy. Ephraim looked up to see walleyed Redcoats staring down on them. One of them slammed his head to the tinted window in mute incapacitation. The driver's voice came over the intercom: "Don't worry folks, these people are guaranteed nonviolent. Just try to remember: The camera steals their souls. So, if you must, try and shoot on the sly."
Flashbulbs exploded. Ephraim winced. He singled out one of the cameras and pointed. The Redcoat blinked, apparently startled. Ephraim threw him a middle finger and whirled on Jonathan, agitated, motioning: "Where's the stereo?" Jonathan glanced over one of his shoulders, into the boot. Ephraim followed his gesture and, presently, pulled up the battery-powered player. Then he inserted Reign in Blood.
Jonathan reached for the stereo, desperately trying to silence the roar.
But Ephraim, inwhite-knuckled rapture, blocked his attempt with a sweep of one leg and then went on, much to the shock of surrounding motorists (if equally geared to the protesters' cheering) to tighten the reigns, angle the buggy out into the oncoming lane, and charge.
Excerpted from Kornwolf by Tristan Egolf Copyright ©2005 by Tristan Egolf. Excerpted by permission.
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