Teaser Tuesday 2/22 The Dry Grass of August by Anna Jean Mayhew

Submitted by Barbara on Mon, 02/21/2011 - 21:55

Teaser Tuesday

"One of the deacons stood and said to the preacher's back, "She were beaten down by hate."
"By hate," someone agreed.
"Killed in the street."
The preacher turned to look at the man. 'That's the truth, Deacon Hull. Hate killed our sister. But the love she lived will triumph over the sin that took her away." -- p. 228. The Dry Grass of August by Anna Jean Mayhew (April 2011)

I think this will be a great reading group pick.

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following: Grab your current read, open to a random page, share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page. Share the title & author.

What is your TT, today?

Comments

Teaser Tuesday

Submitted by Arlee Bird (not verified) on Tue, 02/22/2011 - 22:13.

Yes, but who hated her enough to kill her?

Lee

TT

Submitted by Karen (not verified) on Tue, 02/22/2011 - 20:47.

This sounds intriguing so I'll have to check it out. Thanks!

Sounds like an interesting

Submitted by The Bookish Snob (not verified) on Tue, 02/22/2011 - 11:00.

Sounds like an interesting book you're reading :)
You can find mine at The Bookish Snob

Teaser Tuesdays

Submitted by Laurel-Rain Snow (not verified) on Tue, 02/22/2011 - 08:33.

Awesome teaser...and I LOVE that cover...thanks for sharing.

Here's MY TEASER TUESDAYS POST

Makes me wonder where the

Submitted by kaye (not verified) on Tue, 02/22/2011 - 07:47.

Makes me wonder where the title fits in the story. Have a great week and happy reading! Here is my Teaser

a lot of hoops to go thru just to leave a comment

The title of my novel

Submitted by Anna Jean Mayhew (not verified) on Wed, 02/23/2011 - 13:57.

Took me 18 years to write the novel; during that time I had half a dozen titles...I read lines in a poem ("Star-Fall") by Robert Penn Warren. -- Begin quote: We lay on the dry grass of August… We did not lie close, and for hours/The only contact was fingers, and motionless they./For what communication is needed if each alone/Is sunk and absorbed into/The mass and matrix of Being that defines/Identity of all? We lay in the moonless night,/Felt earth beneath us swing,/Watched the falling stars of the season. They fell/Like sparks in a shadowy, huge smithy, with/The clang of the hammer unheard./Far off in the sea’s matching midnight,/The fishing lights marked their unfabled constellations. -- End quote. I trust that readers of my book will get why I chose that line for my title.