| Georgia Under Water: Stories Contributor(s): Sellers, Heather (Author) |
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ISBN: 1889330566 ISBN-13: 9781889330563 Publisher: Sarabande Books OUR PRICE: $12.56 Product Type: Paperback - Other Formats Published: May 2001 Annotation: Heather Seller's unpretentious, vernacular prose allows Georgia a persuasive mix of innocence and experience. These are miraculous stories of survival, perhaps even forgiveness. To some of us Georgia's life would be unthinkable. Sellers makes us believe it is well worth living. "Heather Sellers writes delicious, dangerous prose. She starts you twenty-three floors up in condo squalor, nips across for dysfunction in Disney country, threatens incest in Hotlanta, and comes to grief on the Gulf. The dead-credible life of Georgia Jackson-ineffably sweet, thoroughly in love with her own luscious body, half in love with her lush of a father-skids at the edge of the surreal. Her story had me laughing through the lump in my throat. An original. A knockout debut."-Janet Burroway Marketing Plans Heather Sellers was born and raised in Orlando, Florida and received a Ph.D. in Writing from Florida State University. Her work has appeared in "Indiana Review, New Virginia Review, The Hawaii Review, The Chattahoochee Review, The Women's Review of Books," and "Sonora Review," Her story "Fla. Boys" is anthologized in "New Stories from the South, 1999: The Year's Best," She received a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts in 1999. She currently lives in Holland, Michigan, where she's an associate professor of English at Hope College. Excerpt From "Georgia Under Water" From the short story, "Spurt"My knees weren't knobs anymore. My knees were lushtransitions. My thighs shone golden-brown; my shins, paler, but long and strong. My ankles were slim, bony in a fetching way, my feet suddenly inches too long for my slaps and sandals. My hair swung in a shiny curtain behind me; my legs were in constant motion, counterpoint. "You've had a growth spurt," my mother said. "Your shorts are way too short. When did this happen?" "I think yesterday and/or the day before," I said. We were in |
| Additional Information |
| BISAC Categories: - Fiction | Short Stories (single Author) - Fiction | Literary - Fiction | Women |
| Dewey: FIC |
| LCCN: 00058799 |
| Physical Information: 0.65" H x 6.03" W x 9" (0.79 lbs) 236 pages |
| Themes: - Cultural Region - Southeast U.S. - Geographic Orientation - Florida - Topical - Adolescence/Coming of Age - Geographic Orientation - Georgia - Cultural Region - South |
| Descriptions, Reviews, Etc. |
| Publisher Description: Heather Seller's unpretentious, vernacular prose allows Georgia a persuasive mix of innocence and experience. These are miraculous stories of survival, perhaps even forgiveness. To some of us Georgia's life would be unthinkable. Sellers makes us believe it is well worth living. Heather Sellers writes delicious, dangerous prose. She starts you twenty-three floors up in condo squalor, nips across for dysfunction in Disney country, threatens incest in Hotlanta, and comes to grief on the Gulf. The dead-credible life of Georgia Jackson--ineffably sweet, thoroughly in love with her own luscious body, half in love with her lush of a father--skids at the edge of the surreal. Her story had me laughing through the lump in my throat. An original. A knockout debut.-Janet Burroway Marketing Plans Heather Sellers was born and raised in Orlando, Florida and received a Ph.D. in Writing from Florida State University. Her work has appeared in Indiana Review, New Virginia Review, The Hawaii Review, The Chattahoochee Review, The Women's Review of Books, and Sonora Review. Her story Fla. Boys is anthologized in New Stories from the South, 1999: The Year's Best. She received a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts in 1999. She currently lives in Holland, Michigan, where she's an associate professor of English at Hope College. Excerpt From Georgia Under WaterFrom the short story, Spurt I spent those days watching myself in every reflective surface known to Daytona Beach. My knees weren't knobs anymore. My knees were lush transitions. My thighs shone golden-brown; my shins, paler, but long and strong. My ankles were slim, bony in a fetching way, my feet suddenly inches too long for my slaps and sandals. My hair swung in a shiny curtain behind me; my legs were in constant motion, counterpoint. You've had a growth spurt, my mother said. Your shorts are way too short. When did this happen? I think yesterday and/or the day before, I said. We were in |