Review From User :
EXCERPT: When I graduated college, I came back to Brunswick, bought an acre along the Altamaha and a sailboat named Gone Fiction at the annual police auction. She was a thirty-six-foot Hunter and had been confiscated during an offshore drug raid. The SWAT guys at the auction said they'd busted some Florida writer running drugs along the coast. When his books didn't sell, he traded his pen for a habit and joined the dark side. I didn't know a thing about sailing, but she looked cozy-had a bed, toilet, shower, small kitchen, and a bow big enough for a folding chair. Not to mention a rope railing where I could prop up my feet. I sized her up, imagined myself perched on her nose watching the tide roll in and out, and raised my hand. Sold! I got her in the water, motored her upriver to my acre of land, and dropped anchor in water deep enough not to ground her when the tide ran out. She sits about eighty yards offshore, which means when I tell people I live on the water, I'm not kidding.
Unc sat in a black, four-door 1970-something Cadillac hearse pulling a double-axle trailer he'd bought at a U-Haul auction. As a farrier, he uses the trailer as his workshop and his home away from home. He bought the hearse, which he calls Sally, more than a decade ago when a nearby funeral home needed an upgrade. It's the joke he plays on the world, and given the life he's lived, a joke is helpful.
A single fishing pole stuck out the back, the line tip dangling with a redheaded jig. Unc tipped his hat back, raised his eyebrows above his polarized Costa Del Mars, and smiled a guilty grin. He lifted his seat belt buckle, popped the top on a Yoo-hoo, stuffed an entire MoonPie into his mouth, and then sucked down the Yoo-hoo like it was the last on earth. I shook my head. Sometimes I wonder how a man like that raised a kid like me. Then I remember.
He dropped his glasses down on his chest. "You look like the dog's been keeping you under the porch."
Maybe I did look a bit disheveled.
I walked up to the car and began pulling on the ID tag they'd put on my wrist three days ago. It's like one of those plastic bands they give you when you check into the hospital. When they booked me, I told them, "I don't really need this. I already know my name." Problem is-that's not entirely true.
ABOUT THIS BOOK: They have one summer to find what was lost long ago.
"Never settle for less than the truth," she told him.
But when you don't even know your real name, the truth gets a little complicated. It can nestle so close to home it's hard to see. It can even flourish inside a lie. And as Chase Walker discovered, learning the truth about who you are can be as elusive--and as magical--as chasing fireflies on a summer night.
A haunting story about fishing, baseball, home cooking, and other matters of life and death...from the author of The Dead Don't Dance and When Crickets Cry.
MY THOUGHTS: I was not sure about this book when I first started it. By the time I got to the end, it had become one of my firm favourites. I listened to an audio version. I am going out to buy a copy. Chasing Fireflies is a book I know I am going to read more than once.
This is a book about fathers and sons. How you don't have a blood relationship to be a 'dad'. How cruel father's can be to their children. It is about abandoned and unloved children and fostering. It is about love and giving. It is about the deceit and love in families, and the things we do to one another, the way we treat each other, both bad and good.
There are a lot of wonderful life lessons in this book. I don't think anything I can say will convey the magnitude of Chasing fireflies.
Just get a copy and read it.
All opinions expressed in this review are entirely my own personal opinions.
Please refer to my Goodreads.com profile page or the 'about' page on sandysbookaday.wordpress.com for an explanation of my rating system. This review and others are also published on my blog sandysbookaday.wordpress.com
They have one summer to find what was lost long ago.
“Never settle for less than the truth,” she told him.
But when you don’t even know your real name, the truth gets a little complicated. It can nestle so close to home it’s hard to see. It can even flourish inside a lie. And as Chase Walker discovered, learning the truth about who you are can be as elusive–and as magical–as chasing fireflies on a summer night.
A haunting story about fishing, baseball, home cooking, and other matters of life and death…from the author of The Dead Don’t Dance and When Crickets Cry.