Storm Tide [NOOK Book]


After his dreams of playing baseball in the Majors fall short and his marriage ends, David Greene returns to his small hometown on Cape Cod. There he meets the eminent professor, Gordon Stone, and his beautiful wife, Judith Silver, with whom he soon falls into a passionate affair. Into this explosive mix, a young woman appears--a single mother at the end of her emotional rope. Crystal desperately needs David. Yet caught between two women, David bears witness to a heartbreaking turn of events that seems as ...
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Storm Tide

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After his dreams of playing baseball in the Majors fall short and his marriage ends, David Greene returns to his small hometown on Cape Cod. There he meets the eminent professor, Gordon Stone, and his beautiful wife, Judith Silver, with whom he soon falls into a passionate affair. Into this explosive mix, a young woman appears--a single mother at the end of her emotional rope. Crystal desperately needs David. Yet caught between two women, David bears witness to a heartbreaking turn of events that seems as inevitable as the push and pull of ocean waves. . . .

From the Trade Paperback edition.
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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Incendiary small-town politics and lethally tangled passions are the focus of this clunky, bloodless collaborative effort from two authors who have each produced better solo work. Piercy ("City of Darkness, City of Light") and her husband, Wood ("Going Public"), have created an irresolute protagonist in David Greene, once a local baseball legend who has now returned to the Cape Cod hamlet of Saltash in disgrace, leaving behind a failed minor league career and a broken marriage. His prospects are dim until he begins an unlikely affair with Judith Silver, a beautiful, talented lawyer whose husband, the eminent professor Gordon Stone, owns an eclectic island compound and is the town's leading progressive politico. Not only does Gordon condone the affair, he joins Judith in persuading David to run for a key seat on the board of selectmen. Their opposition is led by Johnny Lynch, an old-fashioned political boss who has controlled the town for decades. Since David is a congenital pawn with an overactive libido, he can't resist further complicating his situation by also having an affair with desperate, volatile Crystal Sinclair, who works for Lynch; and these oddly lifeless sexual complications combine with meteorological disaster for a predictably bad end. The authors aim for a tale of consuming political and romantic passions with David at its center, but his character is too weak (and the supporting players are too wooden) to execute this tricky game plan. Histrionics aside, the novel does succeed on a lesser scale in its perceptive, stinging depiction of a parochial seaside resort, but this feat is not enough to redeem the air of somnambulance that surrounds its scheming cast.
Library Journal
Piercy, the feminist poet ("What Are Big Girls Made Of", LJ 1/97) and novelist ("Gone to Soldiers", LJ 4/1/87), and husband Wood ("Going Public", LJ 5/1/91), offer a well-written novel, where imperfect people do foolish things with unfortunate results. Each author wrote separate chapters, which they meshed together seamlessly. David, a small-town hero who failed to make baseball's major leagues, returns to Cape Cod 15 years later. He works in his sister's nursery, where he meets Judith and falls under her spell. They begin an affair, one accepted by her cancer-riddled husband. When Judith asks David to run for town selectman, his opponent is backed by Johnny Lynch, who has run the town for years. Enter Crystal, an unstable young woman who uses sex as both reward and spider web. When David tries to break away from the trap, the inevitable tragedy occurs. The ending may be predictable, but getting there is a pleasure; the characters are real, and the well-constructed plot is different enough to hold one's attention. Recommended for popular fiction collections. Andrea Lee Shuey, Dallas P.L.
Kirkus Reviews
Two noted writers (Piercy's many novels include "City of Darkness, City of Light", 1996, and "The Longing of Women", 1994; Wood is the author of "Going Public", 1991) combine to write a seamless coming-of-age story in which a man must confront his past, his enemies, and the results of a tragic accident before he can finally settle into a new life. The story of David Greene, a native of Saltash, Cape Cod, is narrated in turn by David; by Judith Silver, a lawyer, and his adviser and lover; and by Johnny Lynch, the old politician who runs the town. While David is from Saltash, he has never really been a part of it; the townspeople, fearing and distrusting outsiders, had little to do with his Jewish family when he was growing up and still keeps David and summer people like Judith and her dying husband Gordon, a noted academic, at armþs length. Johnny, in fact, has played cunningly on this fear of outsiders to keep himself in power. David has now returned to Saltash after his marriage and his career in baseball have both ended. His life seems to be going nowhere until Judith and Gordon suggest he try politics. He does, and in the process begins to fall in love with Judith, who now practices in Saltash, and also finds himself being dangerously attracted to troubled single mother Crystal, who, with her lonely son Laramie, insinuates her way into his life. But Johnny fights dirty, and David, though elected, has to deal not only with the two women who love him but with Johnny's sly machinations. A storm and horrible accident help David realize that he can face down Johnny and that Saltash, and Judith, mean something essential to him. A wise tale, in a vividly rendered setting, of men andwomen learning to live and love more fully.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780307756206
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 5/19/2010
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 320
  • File size: 3 MB

Read an Excerpt

When the winter was over and my nightmares had passed, when someone else's mistakes had become the subject of local gossip, I set out for the island. I made my way in increments, although the town was all of eighteen miles square. To the bluff overlooking the tidal flats. Down the broken black road to the water's edge. To the bridge where her car was found, overturned like a turtle and buried in mud.

The color of bleached bones, the shape of a crooked spine, the Squeer Island bridge was a product of willful neglect. Every ten years some town official proposed a new bridge and promptly fell into a hole full of lawyers. The beaches were private, the summer people moneyed, the year-rounders reclusive. No one wanted the sandy ways paved or the hedgerows cut back. Your deed bought more than seclusion on Squeer Island; here life as you knew it ceased to exist. There had been a family named Squeer, but only Stumpy was left. If you asked how the island got its name, people would say, "'Cause it's queer over there," and they didn't mean homosexual. They meant queer things happened. Peculiar things. Uncommon for a small town.

During high tide there was no access by land. The road to town flooded. Ducks paddled over the bridge. Fish darted through the guardrails. The summer people stocked their shelves with vodka and paperbacks and waited uneasily for the tide to recede. The residents lived for its return.

I left my car on the island side of the bridge. I slogged along the mud banks of the creek, driving fiddler crabs in front of me like herds of frightened crustacean sheep. The grasses were four feet high at the edge of the bank, an inch wide, sharp as razors. They mentioned lacerations across the palms; one in her right eyeball. I closed one eye. I wondered what it was like to sink in this bottomless liquid clay, this mud the fishermen called black mayonnaise. What did it feel like to die this way? They said her hair was encrusted with seaweed and crabs, that an eel had eaten into the armpit. They say she must have struggled to free herself, that as she grabbed at the grass her efforts only increased the suction of the mud. They still call it an accidental death.

*  *  *

Saltash, Massachusetts, was founded in 1672 and named for a village in Cornwall, England. Summer population: twenty thousand. Winter population: divide by ten. The economy is eighty percent tourism; the leading economic indicator: the number of pickups idling outside Barstow's Convenience at seven a.m. Like any quaint, postcard-perfect Cape Cod town, there are hundreds of stories to be ashamed of here. Only conscience dictates that I start with my own.

If you lived in Saltash, you'd know that I grew up here and had been famous for something--although you probably wouldn't remember what. You might have heard that I left town at eighteen, after having signed a contract for a small fortune, and returned twelve years later. You'd know that I live in a small white half Cape on Round Pond Road and drive a red pickup; that I run a landscaping business with my sister, which (no one forgets to mention) she owns. You might have voted for me for selectman. Everyone I talked to told me they did. (For the record, I received 578 votes.) You would say I wasn't the type to make promises or suck up to people; you might say I kept to myself. You would excuse me for my private life; 578 people obviously did. According to my backers (twelve old men who fancied themselves Saltash's political kingmakers) I had been drawn in by the Squeer Island crowd--a local epithet implying strange sexual practices and not far from the truth. "Seduced" was the explanation whispered most.

It happened in September, the night of the new moon. A storm was tracking our way. Judith warned me that we were facing one of the highest tides of the year. If I couldn't get over the bridge in time, I wouldn't get through at all. "Gordon expects you. He really wants you there," she said, just so I knew it wasn't her who did.

More than anyone I've ever known, Judith loved rituals. She loved to cook for people. They didn't have to be important people or the best of friends. A festive, well-set table surrounded by guests who weren't watching their weight would do: people who arrived on time and had interests other than themselves and remembered to thank her for her trouble. But tonight was special. There were over thirty guests at the table of Gordon Stone and Judith Silver. It was special because it was Rosh Hashanah, and Judith had instituted the celebrating of the Jewish holidays when she became Gordon's fourth wife thirteen years before I met her. Special because Gordon was dying of lung cancer, and he was saying goodbye.

He looked like a living skeleton. His color was grayish-blue and he could not sit up, but reclined, lying on a couch with heaped-up pillows that had been dragged to the table. Judith was wearing a short red shift tonight and her fine skin and dark hair shone. Her necklace and earrings were silver. Judith did not like gold. She once told me silver was a more human metal because it aged, it changed.

Judith had prepared traditional foods. Buckwheat groats with mushroom gravy and bow-tie noodles, roast chicken, potato kugel, gefilte fish, apples dipped in honey. Those friends who weren't Jewish--including two of Gordon's adult children whose mother wasn't--hummed the songs we taught them and bowed their heads as we blessed the wine, and followed everything we did with the curious respect of anthropologists at an Mbundu marriage ceremony in Angola. What they might have missed, however, was the fact that Judith wouldn't be caught alone in the same room with me, removing herself whenever I tried to pull her aside to talk.

No one on the island asked about Judith and Gordon and me. What was common knowledge was never uttered. What mattered was that Gordon had spent an entire summer vacation helping Stumpy Squeer rebuild his house after a fire; that Judith had had a troubling intuition about a high school girl's painful cramps and drove her through a snowstorm to a good Boston hospital in time to be treated for a tubal pregnancy. There were feuds and there were grudges. But judgments among the year-rounders were limited to practical problems: Whose dog had ripped through whose garden? Who rented to noisy college kids in July?

By the second course, the lights began to flicker. The surf was halfway up the dune. Judith had arranged housing for almost everyone, except of course for me. But after the summer of silence, I was determined to talk to her and, finally, finally caught her alone in the kitchen.

"What do you want with me, David?" She turned her back. "Talk to Crystal. You're going to marry her."

"I don't want to marry Crystal. Can we sit down and talk about this?"

"Not here. Not now. I have thirty people to settle in for the night. If you absolutely insist on talking, wait for me in my shack."

Judith's "shack" was an electronic cottage, part sanctum, part home office. It was fitted out with a computer, two printers, copier, scanner, and fax--as well as the double bed where we had made love many times. I lay back against the headboard, waiting, rehearsing my speech while the three cats who had been locked up there for the evening jumped from the dresser to my stomach and off again, taking out their anger on me. Sand pitted the glass and blew in through gaps in the jambs. You found sand in your shoes after nights like this, a film of sand like dust. Every shelf in the cottage shook. Wind lifted the shingles and smacked the roof. The joists shivered and sawdust trickled over the bed like snow. An hour passed. Water ran in sheets down the windows and poured from the downspout. Judith did not come.

When I heard the sound of a car horn, I knew something was wrong. One long drone, as if the driver was leaning on the wheel, and as it got closer, short blasts of pure panic. I ran for the main house, ran hard through the muddy courtyard in the pelting rain.

What I need to say is that I'm telling all this to get it straight, to reduce a tragedy to its parts and somehow understand. Call it an autopsy. A dissection of something that had once been alive; a determination as to the cause of death.


From the Trade Paperback edition.
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Reading Group Guide

1. Finding just the right title for a work of literature is important. Why Storm Tide? How do weather and seasonal changes function as metaphor in this novel?

2. Think about the places central to the novel. Which are most significant? Why?

3. Consider the importance of colors and textures in the authors' description of characters and places, including the names given to them.

4. Cooking and eating appear again and again in the novel. How does food help shape our understanding of the characters? Is it at all metaphorical?

5. In chapter 1, David tells us, "More than anyone I've ever known, Judith loved rituals." He's speaking specifically of the traditions of Judaism, but how is this insight into her also key to the novel's intricacies?

6. How does the convoluted time structure of the novel affect our experience of the events? How does the movement between first person and third person affect the flow of the narrative and our identification with the characters?

7. The novel's structure is a dance among the central characters' lives. How does this kind of shifting work for you? How would the book be different if it were David's monologue throughout, or entirely from Judith's point of view? Can you imagine the whole story being told from Crystal's perspective, or Gordon's, or Johnny's, or even Holly's or Laramie's or Mattie's?

8. Chapter 1 ends with David's claim that he is telling this story in order to understand what happened, in order to determine the cause of death for something that had once been alive. To what and whom might he be referring, besides Crystal?

9. Judith felt invisible--"a shameful secret"--when she was a child. Davidhas felt invisible since his glory days as a baseball player. Who else in the novel struggles with invisibility? What does it mean to be acknowledged, accepted, "validated" in life? Ira Wood has said that David is an "outsider" in Saltash. Who else is, and why? What does it mean to be "part" of a town, to "belong" there?

10. Compare Saltash to your own town or city. Do the people around you resemble any of the characters? What political issues are alienating and allying members of the community? Can Saltash be considered a microcosm of the human race, or are its stories determined by its being a small New England town?

11. How many--and what kind of--love stories help to shape this book? Compare and contrast: (1) David's love for Judith and his love for Crystal; (2) Judith's love for Gordon and her love for David; (3) Crystal's love for Laramie and her love for David. How much self-love do these characters--and others--have?

12. What is the weight and pull of money in each of the central characters' lives?

13. David does a pretty thorough job of telling us and showing us his weaknesses, while his early assessment of Judith is that she is "miniature perfection." What are Judith's weaknesses? How does David's assessment hold or change as he gets to know her? Given your insights into her through the narrator, what is your assessment of her?

14. Could Crystal's death be considered a kind of murder, as David seems to feel? How might her accident be suicide? Might some readers view her fate as a just punishment for immoral behavior? Might others be glad she was put out of her misery as an unenlightened woman? Could some see her as the most virtuous character of all? How do you feel about her and her fate?

15. At one point Crystal calls herself an "anything girl." How might David be an "anything boy"? Could Judith ever be considered an "anything woman"?

16. While visiting France as a young woman, Judith committed herself to work hard to achieve "a graceful life . . . that satisfies the senses and the brain." Did she realize her dream, with Gordon? Might David have a similar dream? What is your definition of "a graceful life"? Do you long for one? Have you achieved one?

17. Consider the importance of past and present family members to the central characters. What kind of family life can you imagine Judith and David forging, if they do get back--and stay--together? After talking with her dying father, Natasha tells her stepmother that Gordon "wants to have an afterlife" in Judith's life. His hopes for Brian did not work out, but what about his role in bringing Judith and David together? Will his "ghost" always make a ménage à trois in the Compound?

18. Both Marge Piercy and Ira Wood have expressed concern that a co-authored novel is judged as inferior by many because it does not offer a singularity of vision. What has been your experience in reading this book's duality of vision?

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Sort by: Showing all of 10 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 7, 2013

    Hey stormclan leader!!


    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 16, 2012

    tp mate finders

    go to mates only and write description of yourself in the first result. In second result talk to cats to see who wants to be your mate! Good luck

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 14, 2012

    What clan?

    Is this?

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 13, 2012


    Im on frequently my name is fireflower. I am a silvery she cat go to march 23 if u wanna contact me also there is a new rp at result first result it is were rp go there for more info we need ppl! Thx c u there!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 12, 2012

    Join Oceanclan!!

    I am Beachstar, and i need more members badly! All positions are open except for leader and deputy! Search Beach resort, all results. Hope to see you there!

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 5, 2012


    Can i join. I NEED a mate. I am a tom. If u r interested go to popcorn result 6 right away.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 5, 2012

    A stone angel

    * an angel made of stone appeared before them.....its hands were covering its face making it look like it was weeping

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 17, 2012

    Stristar Important

    Go to the storm 1 result. Camp has been moved to bigger acomadations.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 3, 2012


    "I saw." The she cat said.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 8, 2012


    Hey this is my clan any true members need to come to stormy 1 result

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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