📘 ❞ The Summons ❝ رواية ــ John Grisham اصدار 2002
Stories and novels - 📖 رواية ❞ The Summons ❝ ــ John Grisham 📖
█ _ John Grisham 2002 حصريا رواية ❞ The Summons ❝ عن New York : Doubleday 2024 Summons : Summons It came by mail, regular postage, the old fashioned way since Judge was almost eighty and distrusted modern devices Forget e mail even faxes He didn't use an answering machine had never been fond of telephone pecked out his letters with both index fingers, one feeble key at a time, hunched over his old Underwood manual on rolltop desk under portrait Nathan Bedford Forrest The Judge's grandfather fought Shiloh throughout Deep South, to him no figure in history was more revered For thirty two years, the Judge quietly refused hold court July 13, Forrest's birthday It another letter, magazine, invoices, routinely placed law school mailbox Professor Ray Atlee recognized it immediately such envelopes part life for as long he could remember It from lather, man too called Professor studied envelope, uncertain whether should open it right there or wait moment Good news bad, knew Judge, though the old dying good rare thin appeared contain only sheet paper; nothing unusual about that frugal the written word, he'd once known windy lectures bench business much certain not small talk, hated gossip idle chitchat, written spoken Ice tea the porch would be refighting Civil War, probably Shiloh, where would once again lay all blame Confederate defeat shiny, untouched boots of General Pierre G T Beauregard, hate heaven, if chance they met there He'd dead soon Seventy nine years cancer stomach was overweight, diabetic, heavy pipe smoker, bad heart survived three attacks, host lesser ailments tormented twenty and were now finally closing kill pain constant During their last phone call three weeks earlier, call initiated because thought long distance rip off, sounded weak strained They talked for less than minutes Stories novels مجاناً PDF اونلاين هذا القسم يحتوي علي العديد من القصص والروايات باللغة الإنجليزية This section contains many stories English (Stories novels) والروايات: الرواية هي سرد نثري طويل يصف شخصيات خيالية أو واقعية وأحداثاً شكل قصة متسلسلة كما أنها أكبر الأجناس القصصية حيث الحجم وتعدد الشخصيات وتنوع الأحداث وقد ظهرت أوروبا بوصفها جنساً أدبياً مؤثراً القرن الثامن عشر والرواية حكاية تعتمد السرد بما فيه وصف وحوار وصراع بين وما ينطوي عليه ذلك تأزم وجدل وتغذيه A novel is relatively work narrative fiction, normally prose form, which typically published book present English word fiction derives Italian novella "new", "news", "short story something new", itself Latin novella, singular noun use neuter plural novellus, diminutive novus, meaning "new" Walter Scott made distinction between novel, (as saw it) "events are accommodated ordinary train human events state society" romance, defined "a fictitious verse; interest turns upon marvellous uncommon incidents"
The Summons
It came by mail, regular postage, the old-fashioned way since the Judge was
almost eighty and distrusted modern devices. Forget e-mail and even faxes. He didn't
use an answering machine and had never been fond of the telephone. He pecked out
his letters with both index fingers, one feeble key at a time, hunched over his old
Underwood manual on a rolltop desk under the portrait of Nathan Bedford Forrest.
The Judge's grandfather had fought with Forrest at Shiloh and throughout the Deep
South, and to him no figure in history was more revered. For thirty-two years, the
Judge had quietly refused to hold court on July 13, Forrest's birthday.
It came with another letter, a magazine, and two invoices, and was routinely
placed in the law school mailbox of Professor Ray Atlee. He recognized it
immediately since such envelopes had been a part of his life for as long as he could
remember. It was from his lather, a man he too called the Judge.
Professor Atlee studied the envelope, uncertain whether he should open it right
there or wait a moment. Good news or bad, he never knew with the Judge, though the
old man was dying and good news had been rare. It was thin and appeared to contain
only one sheet of paper; nothing unusual about that. The Judge was frugal with the
written word, though he'd once been known for his windy lectures from the bench.
It was a business letter, that much was certain. The Judge was not one for small
talk, hated gossip and idle chitchat, whether written or spoken. Ice tea with him on the
porch would be a refighting of the Civil War, probably at Shiloh, where he would
once again lay all blame for the Confederate defeat at the shiny, untouched boots of
General Pierre G. T. Beauregard, a man he would hate even in heaven, if by chance
they met there.
He'd be dead soon. Seventy-nine years old with cancer in his stomach. He was
overweight, a diabetic, a heavy pipe smoker, had a bad heart that had survived three
attacks, and a host of lesser ailments that had tormented him for twenty years and
were now finally closing in for the kill. The pain was constant. During their last phone
call three weeks earlier, a call initiated by Ray because the Judge thought long
distance was a rip-off, the old man sounded weak and strained. They had talked for
less than two minutes.
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