Larger Than Life (Novella) (Kindle Single)

Larger Than Life (Novella) (Kindle Single)

Jodi Picoult

Language: English

Pages: 79


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

From Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Storyteller and My Sister’s Keeper, comes a gripping and beautifully written novella, now available exclusively as an eBook. Set in the wilds of Africa, Larger Than Life introduces Alice, the unforgettable character at the center of Picoult’s anticipated new novel, Leaving Time.
A researcher studying memory in elephants, Alice is fascinated by the bonds between mother and calf—the mother’s powerful protective instincts and her newborn’s unwavering loyalty. Living on a game reserve in Botswana, Alice is able to view the animals in their natural habitat—while following an important rule: She must only observe and never interfere. Then she finds an orphaned young elephant in the bush and cannot bear to leave the helpless baby behind. Thinking back on her own childhood, and on her shifting relationship with her mother, Alice risks her career to care for the calf. Yet what she comes to understand is the depth of a parent’s love.
Praise for Jodi Picoult
“Picoult is a skilled wordsmith, and she beautifully creates situations that not only provoke the mind but touch the flawed souls in all of us.”—The Boston Globe
“Picoult is a rare writer who delivers book after book, a winning combination of the literary and the commercial.”—Entertainment Weekly
“Jodi Picoult’s novels do not gather dust on the bedside table. They are gobbled up quickly and the readers want more.”—Los Angeles Times

Against a Crimson Sky (2nd Edition) (Poland Trilogy, Book 2)


I'll Be Here All Week

The Stone Angel

Matterhorn: A Novel of the Vietnam War















all the books I’d left open specifically to the pages of organisms that I hadn’t yet seen under a microscope—mold and strawberries and hair cells. “This room is a disaster,” she said, frowning. “Didn’t I tell you to clean up?” “Please,” I begged, taking the books out of her arms, hoping to tamp down her anger. “Can you teach me how to make more slides?” I thought for a moment she was going to walk away. But then she rolled up the sleeves of her meter maid uniform and knelt on the carpet beside

just with rumbles and roars and gestures but also with sounds too low for us to hear.” Suddenly, my mind went blank. I could not remember a single word; I couldn’t find the familiar landmark of the next sentence. My breathing became the heartbeat of the world. I had practiced this presentation in the shower, while brushing my teeth, while riding on the bus. I had practiced this presentation until it was the first thing to pop into my head when I woke up in the morning. As it turned out, there

hesitate, expecting another yellow slip from Western Union, but this is a piece of camp stationery with a name scrawled across it. “Who’s Karen Trendler?” I ask. “She runs a sanctuary in South Africa. She’s very active in the fight against poaching elephants and rhinos.” He hesitates. “Your girl isn’t ever going back to the bush,” Grant says. “I think you and I both know that.” I had expected my mother to come to the party Dr. Yunque threw for me at Harvard to wish me well as I left for South

competing for the same resources. But things change. When the land blossoms and the rivers run flush again, the mother and daughter reunite. It’s a celebration, a fanfare. There is trumpeting, roaring, touching, stroking. It’s like they have never been apart. Sometimes, when I sit in my mother’s hospital room, watching her do the spider crawling exercises along the wall to build her range of motion—or weeks later, when I drive her to her chemo treatments, I look out the window and see Africa.

shook her head. “It’s priceless. Like my daughter.” Her words were like sun on a patch of ice; I could immediately feel myself softening at the edges. I watched her twist the wire cage at the neck of the bottle and pop the cork, so that the pink bubbles frothed over her hand. She poured two glasses—into juice cups, because that was all I had—and toasted me. “You know what they say—you can always tell a Vassar girl … but you can’t tell her much.” I didn’t want to speak. I was afraid I’d break

Download sample