000			01908namna22002535i 4500
005			20240528083325.0
008			190819s2020 mnu 000 0 eng
010			_a 2019948503
020			_a9780571340286
040			_cAE-ShPAA
042			_apcc
050			_aPR6116.O76 L36 2019
100	1		_aPorter, Max, _eauthor. _919046
245	1	0	_aLanny / _cMax Porter.
264		1	_aMinneapolis : _bGraywolf Press, _c2019
300			_apages cm
336			_atext _btxt _2rdacontent
337			_aunmediated _bn _2rdamedia
338			_avolume _bnc _2rdacarrier
501			_aP.B
520			_a"There's a village an hour from London. It's no different from many others today: one pub, one church, redbrick cottages, some public housing, and a few larger houses dotted about. Voices rise up, as they might anywhere, speaking of loving and needing and working and dying and walking the dogs. This village belongs to the people who live in it, to the land and to the land's past. It also belongs to Dead Papa Toothwort, a mythical figure that schoolchildren used to draw as green and leafy, choked by tendrils growing out of his mouth, who awakens after a glorious nap. He is listening to this twenty-first-century village, to its symphony of talk: drunken confessions, gossip traded on the street corner, fretful conversations in living rooms. He is listening, intently, for a mischievous, ethereal boy whose parents have recently made the village their home. Lanny. This chimerical, audacious, strange, and brilliant novel will enrapture readers with its anarchic energy, with its bewitching tapestry of fabulism and domestic drama. Lanny is a ringing defense of creativity, spirit, and the generative forces that often seem under assault in the contemporary world, and it solidifies Max Porter's reputation as one of the most daring and sensitive writers of his generation"--
910			_a2092
942			_cPL
999			_c1545 _d1545