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Going to See the Elephant "Signed": Fishburne, Rodes Going to See the Elephant "Signed": Fishburne, Rodes Going to See the Elephant "Signed": Fishburne, Rodes

Going to See the Elephant "Signed"

Fishburne, Rodes

333 valoraciones por Goodreads
ISBN 10: 038534239X / ISBN 13: 9780385342391
Editorial: U.S.A.: Delacorte Press, 2008
Condición: As New Encuadernación de tapa dura
Librería: Gambits Collectibles (Colorado Springs, CO, Estados Unidos de America)

Librería en AbeBooks desde: 7 de mayo de 2014

Cantidad: 1

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Book Condition: As New. Dust Jacket Condition: As New. Delacorte Random House, 2009. Hardcover. Signed by author on title page. Signing in San Francisco. Fishburne's acclaimed debut novel. Opened only for signing. Set in San Francisco. "Rodes Fishburne is onto something here. If you've ever been young you'll recognize the wide-eyed innocence he serves up, if you've ever lived in a city you'll recognize the funhouse he mirrors, and the madcap ambition, the roll of the brave and shaky dice, the lightning-chord changes that leave everyone gleaming, and the luminous sucker punch of first love and first loss- all that's our own. The close you get to Going to See the Elephant the more we all see ourselves."- Danieal Handler, author of A Series of Unfortunate Events. N° de ref. de la librería 0000660

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Detalles bibliográficos

Título: Going to See the Elephant "Signed"

Editorial: U.S.A.: Delacorte Press

Año de publicación: 2008

Encuadernación: Hardcover

Condición del libro:As New

Condición de la sobrecubierta: As New

Ejemplar firmado: Signed by Author(s)

Edición: 1st Edition

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On a windy September day, twenty-five-year-old Slater Brown stands in the back of a bicycle taxi hurtling the wrong way down the busiest street in San Francisco. Slater has come to “see the elephant,” to stake his claim to fame and become the greatest writer ever. But this city of gleaming water and infinite magic has other plans in this astounding first novel—at once a love story, a feast of literary imagination, and a dazzlingly original tale of passion, ambition, and genius in all their guises...

Slater Brown lays siege to San Francisco like Achilles circling Troy—until he crashes headlong into reality. Out of money and prospects, he applies for a job at a moribund weekly newspaper called the Morning Trumpet—and, as if by fate, is given a very special parting gift from a moonlighting mystic.

Suddenly Slater has an exclusive on every story in the city. With his uncanny knack for finding scoops, he’s bringing the Trumpet back to life, infuriating a corrupt mayor and falling in love with the woman destined to become his muse. But it is the astonishing inventor Milo Magnet—a man obsessed with harnessing the weather—who will force Slater to navigate the most dangerous straits.

For as Milo unleashes his power on San Francisco and the ravishing Callio de Quincy entrances Slater with hers, as storm clouds gather literally overhead, Slater will become at once a pawn, a savior, and the last best hope for a city that needs him—and his knack for the truth—more than ever before.


Amazon Best of the Month, January 2009: Veering from the sublime to the sublimely ridiculous, Rodes Fishburne's Going to See the Elephant is a story backed by an orchestra, saturated with a mystic glow that tints Technicolor a city full of fantastic personalities. From the moment Slater Brown and his trunk of first-edition 19th-century novels arrive in San Francisco, he stands poised for a "synchronous explosion of fate and destiny." He wants to devour the city ("preferably with both hands"), and to employ its more savory bits in a novel that will live for generations. When financial necessity drives him to a reporting post with the third-rate Morning Trumpet, a marvelous coincidence offers him a private line to the city's secrets, which Slater parlays into sensational stories that save the Trumpet--and enrage the nefarious mayor. While Slater falls for a brilliant and lovely chess champion (who miraculously loves him back), the mayor plots his undoing and an eccentric genius's weather experiments imperil the city. Happiness that seemed inevitable must be pursued as if Slater's life depends on it (as indeed it does), and a story that seemed larger-than-life winds up movingly human. --Mari Malcolm

Amazon Exclusive: "How to Tune in the Universe" by Rodes Fishburne

When I was 23-years-old I worked as a fly-fishing guide in southwestern Alaska. I lived alone in a remote tent camp on the edge of a river called the Nushagak (nush-a-gack). It was 100 miles by floatplane to the nearest town, otherwise known as electricity.

Which made the tent I lived in all the more important. It was large, with a wooden platform, steel ribs, and a tough, white vinyl tent covering. In one corner was a little cot. And in another a cook stove. And in another a little library, which contained two things: a copy of War and Peace, and an old Playboy magazine.

One night at 2 a.m. the tent started shaking violently. A wicked storm had descended onto my little nirvana from a place appropriately named "Cold Bay." I learned later that at its peak, the storm’s winds reached 75 mph. But at that moment my main concern was that the tent was going to be ripped from its foundation, Wizard of Oz-style.

I grabbed the steel ribs and used my weight to anchor the tent. I was holding down the fort, literally. Every couple of minutes another super-gust would come along and the tent would swell up as if inhaling while contemplating where to launch itself into the dark wet night sky. Then another wave of wind and rain would snap the tent and send me rocking, like a side of beef, as I hung from the tent’s frame.

After awhile I started talking to the storm, trying to sooth her, “C’mon sweetheart, it’s really late and we’re both tired, and wouldn’t it be better if we talked about this in the morning?”

THWWAAAAAAAP... came the hissed response.

Two hours later I collapsed into bed. The storm had quieted for a moment, my arms were numb, and the only sound was of big rain drops stinging the tent. I called the lodge on the two-way radio. Any guide living in a remote tent camp was instructed to call the lodge twice a day. “Do it alive or dead,” the head guide had told me when the floatplane had dropped me off.

The storm had hit the lodge as well, throwing one of the float planes onto the dock and breaking off a wing.

"Sorry to hear that," I said into the two-way radio.

"You should be sorry," said the voice on the other end, "because that was the plane that was coming to get you. We’ll try to get out there in the next couple of days."

I thought I’d be on my own for three or four days. Being alone for a few days was no big deal. Not getting supplies from the lodge made it more challenging, but self-reliance was part of the job. It turned out I would be on my own for 21 days. I read War and Peace twice. Strangely, I only read the Playboy once...

A lot of strange and interesting things happened to me during that time. Here’s one of them.

I had a little walkman radio, and one cassette tape: Creedence Clearwater Revival’s "Greatest Hits." Even now, during a quiet moment in traffic I sometimes hear the opening guitar riff of "Fortunate Son" in my head. Other than the cassette tape, I could pick up one radio station, from Dillingham, Alaska, where the local DJ said things like, "Steve Pickering has a back-hoe with a broken piston he’d be willing to trade for a used snow mobile. Come around his garage tonight, but beware the pet wolf."

One night, as I was falling asleep in my cot with the headphones on, listening to the melody that was the classified ad radio hour, my head, very gently, touched the steel ribs of the tent.


In an instant my little radio was flooded with sounds, and foreign voices, and lively music like I’d never heard before. It was as if I had tuned into frequencies from another planet.

And then I realized the language was Russian... I was picking up a Russian radio station!

By accidentally touching the steel frame with my metal headphones I had unintentionally turned the tent’s entire steel structure into the Nushagak river’s largest radio antenna. I moved the little tuning dial on the radio and my ears feasted on rock-n-roll, opera, salsa, oldies, coming from stations as far away as Chicago, New York City, and Miami.

I was so excited I jumped out of bed, quickly realizing that in order for the radio to pick up these frequencies I had to be touching the metal frame of the tent with the headphones. Which meant that to go make a cup of hot tea I had to trace the pattern of the tent’s steel ribs with my head, or risk losing contact with the outside world.

In an instant I’d been transformed from a starving man to a starving man standing in front of a banquet of delicious... sounds. I could listen to the BBC, to sports scores, and to a marathon Rolling Stone session. As I lay very still in my bed, listening to the outside world, it felt like my little existence was on the receiving end of a magician’s encore.

At 1 a.m. I moved the tuner knob on the radio and heard a high-pitched voice say "I’m Truman Capote." For the next 60 minutes he told of how he’d thrown the greatest party of the 20th century, the Black and White Ball, in New York City in 1966. And although Capote was long dead, there was some kind of crazy symmetry about a young writer, who had literally found himself up Shit’s Creek, pressing his head against the tent in order to hear another writer tell his story into the ether.

Years later I would write a novel, Going to See the Elephant where the main character, Slater Brown, discovers a way to learn the secret stories of San Francisco. And now that you know this story, you know the story behind the story of how Slater Brown, and you too, can tune in the universe. --Rodes Fishburne

"Sobre este título" puede pertenecer a otra edición de este libro.

Descripción de la librería

GAMBIT'S Collectibles Hi, my wife and I recently founded GAMBIT'S Collectibles on line business. We decided to name the business after one of our family members. We first met Gambit at an -Adopt a pet- show held by a pet store as a community services event. We were actually looking for a small dog, a lap dog if you will for her. As we looked at the puppies and older dogs we had a difficult time deciding. Gambit was sitting quietly in the corner as the other puppies yipped and barked as all the strangers coming by to look at them. I don't know if you believe in an emotional bond but there was definitely an immediate connection between Gambit and I. At first I just wanted to pick him up and take a closer look. When I did Gambit did something I will never forget. He held on to my arm with his paws wrapped around -clinging- to me. This connection created a strong bond between us. My wife tells people that I hogged the puppy and wandered off into a corner of the pet store with him so no one else could have a chance to pick him. I have to admit it is true. However, because we came for a different breed of dog we decided to wait until more dogs were brought to the event. So we went to lunch with plans to come back in an hour or so. I told myself that the puppy I liked so much would be long gone by then. Someone would pick him for sure. Who could resist? So with some trepidation I left it up to fate. Well, we ate our lunch and came back to the event in time to see the new dogs arriving at the pet store. We looked them over and considered a couple but I could not get Gambit out of my mind. So, I went to see if he was still in the pen they had for the puppies. Amazingly he was still there. I picked him up and we have been faithful friends every since. Our family loves Gambit and I am thankful for his unconditional love for our family every day. So, when we decided to create an on line business we needed a CEO and Gambit was elected. His bark is worse than his bite! Some of the proceeds from our sales will go the local animal shelter here in Colorado to give others a chance to adopt a pet and maybe they will be as lucky as we were. We are proud contributors to the local Humane Society and the business makes monthly contributions via the PAWS system.

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