By John Burnham Schwartz
Whilst Alec Stern arrives in Japan, he discovers a land of chance. for under in Tokyo may perhaps an impressionable younger guy clean out of school locate, in a single stroke, a brand new activity, a brand new relations, and a society that lavishes awareness on Japanese-speaking gaijin. but, at the same time Alec claims a spot during this new global, he's haunted through stories of the only he left behind—a global as soon as infinitely safe yet which disintegrated with the breakup of his mom and dad' marriage.In this incandescently saw novel, John Burnham Schwartz introduces readers to at least one of the main attractive protagonists in modern fiction whereas mesmerizing them with the fervour of his eye and the aptness of his voice. via its exquisitely rendered scenes—a fishing journey of Zen-like serenity; an evening at a intercourse membership the place guffawing businessmen dive into the action—and vividly imagined characters—the giggling mom who taught Alec to trip a bicycle; the attractive unhappy jap girl who teaches him how one can love—Bicycle Days surprises, strikes, and enlightens us as only a few books do.
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The dog started chewing Alec’s right foot. Alec was still trying to get his sneakers off. The pain started just below his knees and went shooting up into his thighs. Alec looked around the low table at his new family. They were all dressed as if they might be going out for an evening at the theater. Exhausted, far away from himself, he sensed that he was smiling and saying small things in Japanese every once in a while. He remembered the many times he had been to Japanese restaurants at home, how he had always liked the idea of sitting at a low table, liked how simple it was.
The face had the warmth he wanted, and he stepped in front of the man, but couldn’t speak when he tried, because he was crying too hard. The man stopped walking then and bent down. Alec felt the long arm come around his shoulders, sheltering him from the people rushing by, soothing him with the gray softness. He felt himself being lifted up onto the man’s shoulders and knew that he was connected to the world again. There was too much happening at once, and he could only point when he saw his mother at the edge of the sidewalk, his mitten held tightly in one hand.
The confusing bus ride from the airport, much more than the flight from New York, had robbed him of all sense of time. He had woken with the sense that something was wrong. His first thought was that he had missed his stop. Terrified, he looked around him. It was the same bus he had been on before he had fallen asleep, filled with the same people, the driver wearing the exact same pale blue hat. The bus looked like every other bus Alec had ever been on. The red vinyl seats reminded him of the Greyhound he used to ride to his aunt’s house in Vermont.