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The River Boat Pilot and the Shopping Mall Queen

The River Boat Pilot and the Shopping Mall Queen ¿m fr by Richard Lawson When he was sober, Dexter Hopkins the seventh one. It was after the seventh was quiet and sullen, a man who thought beer that he heard himself telling about he had been born and quickly forgotten. his adventures as river boat pilot. He saw himself as a lone figure standing The experience was almost pleasant if in an open field, and from his distant he found he was telling the story to a vantage point, he saw hardly more than a stranger. If there weren't any strangers, shadow on the landscape. He heard his Dexter heard himself telling the story voice, even in anger, coming out like the anyway, usually to someone who knew sound of melting snow dripping from an he was a liar. On these occasions, he eave. His life, he felt, was a dull and drank even more in an effort to dampen harmless aspect of reality. That's why his humiliation. he always forgave himself. In the absence of strangers, Dexter did, at least, maintain enough self respect to blamed on someone or something, and choose someone who looked as drunk as Dexter blamed the beer itself, especially himself or http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

The River Boat Pilot and the Shopping Mall Queen

Appalachian Review , Volume 9 (1) – Jan 8, 1981

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

¿m fr by Richard Lawson When he was sober, Dexter Hopkins the seventh one. It was after the seventh was quiet and sullen, a man who thought beer that he heard himself telling about he had been born and quickly forgotten. his adventures as river boat pilot. He saw himself as a lone figure standing The experience was almost pleasant if in an open field, and from his distant he found he was telling the story to a vantage point, he saw hardly more than a stranger. If there weren't any strangers, shadow on the landscape. He heard his Dexter heard himself telling the story voice, even in anger, coming out like the anyway, usually to someone who knew sound of melting snow dripping from an he was a liar. On these occasions, he eave. His life, he felt, was a dull and drank even more in an effort to dampen harmless aspect of reality. That's why his humiliation. he always forgave himself. In the absence of strangers, Dexter did, at least, maintain enough self respect to blamed on someone or something, and choose someone who looked as drunk as Dexter blamed the beer itself, especially himself or

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 1981

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