![]() ![]() The houses on this street were tall, ornate. ![]() Whitb” “beloved son, brother, rest in” “All things bright and” “lieu of flowers, donation.” All of which, Yale supposed, did tell Nico’s fortune. This one had no flaps, but each quadrant bore words, some upside down, all truncated by the folds: “Father George H. ![]() Yale found the bulletin from last night’s vigil in his pocket and folded it into something resembling the cootie catchers his childhood friends used to make on buses-the ones that told your fortune (“Famous!” or “Murdered!”) when you opened a flap. If there were sandwiches laid out in some reception room, most were going to waste. It must only be relatives up at the church, the parents’ friends, the priest. Some were dressed nicely, as if this were the funeral itself others wore jeans, leather jackets. The closer they got to Richard’s house, the more friends they spotted heading the same way. He said to Charlie, “How empty do you think that church is?” Yale checked his watch as they walked up Belden. Twenty miles from here, twenty miles north, the funeral mass was starting. The novel is already a staff favorite at Parnassus, and you can get your copy here. The following excerpt comes from the opening pages of The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai. This engaging and heartbreaking novel alternates between two storylines - one centered around a group of friends in Chicago during the AIDS crisis of the 1980s and one set in 2015 Paris as a woman searches for her adult daughter. ![]()
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