In the canon
Lincoln in the Bardo
- Form
- Form Novel
- Year
- Year 2017
- Pages
- Pages 340
Sick-box, they call the coffin, because none of them can bear the other word. In a Georgetown cemetery in February 1862, the dead mill about their graves convinced they are only ill and will soon go home: a printer struck by a beam on the night he was at last to share his young wife's bed, a man who cut his wrists and changed his mind too late, a reverend who knows more than he dares say.
I wish to do what I wish to do, and not what you are telling me to do.
The blurb, the gist, the why of the day and the work itself are in the app. The first button needs it on this device; the second gets it there.