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The Mathematics of Love
by Emma Darwin
ISBN-10: 0061140260
ISBN-13: 9780061140266
William Morrow
$24.95 Hardcover
January 2007
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What's It About? |
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An English country manor where two unlikely souls divided by time are united by tragedy, memory, and love. Teenager Anna Ware discovers a bundle of letters written in 1819 by a veteran of the Battle of Waterloo, and as she unravels his mysteries, she creates a heartbreaking secret of her own.
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Who's Talking About It? |
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“Darwin will be an author to watch.”--Library Journal
"Emma Darwin's prose is golden and convincing. The book is an addictive, engaging foray into historical fiction."--Express
"This is that rare thing, a book that works on every conceivable level...An uncommonly good read.... A real achievement."--The London Times
"A novel rapturous with the joys of history.... Anna's story is told in a wonderfully convincing, brittle, adolescent voice."--The Australian
“Emma Darwin, happily, seems able to immerse herself in 19th Century England.... Both eerie and intriguing.”--Australian Financial Review
The Mathematics of Love is a January Book Sense pick.
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How Can I Promote It? |
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Yes, as in Charles Darwin. Emma Darwin is the great-great-granddaughter of the world-famous scientist and his wife, Emma Wedgewood. Get customers' attention by displaying The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin alongside The Mathematics of Love for a literary family affair.
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From The Mathematics of Love: |
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Time and again, as I sat shivering with fever by the fire, or gazed over barren fields or down muddy lanes, or saw the same dull, good-natured faces sitting about some dinner table, or ranked in Church with their scrubbed and fidgeting children about them, my memories of Spain came before my mind. It was not the Spain of dusty olive groves that I saw, where bare mountains rear up in air that trembles with the weight of its own heat, nor the Spain of black monks and gold-encrusted toreadors and ladies tossing flowers. No, it was not Wellington's Spain at all. Rather I thought of the small, comfortable smells and noises of my life in San Sebastian after the War: the tarry, salty scent of ships and wharves, the chatter of the girls as they washed and dressed and compared the night's takings, the cry of a water-carrier in the street, a hundred church bells tolling high and low for the Mass, a whining beggar, the squawk of seagulls and the flap of clean, wet washing in the sea wind.
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