Restless Heart

T. William Phillips

Description

Leaving behind the aristocratic life for which he had been groomed, Konrad Quintero de Leon ventures into America’s wild frontier in search of meaning and adventure.

HIS RESTLESS HEART BEAT TO A RHYTHM OF ITS OWN— a rhythm that had once been so prevalent in the core of his soul, but had long been lost under the thick layers of routine, expectation, and responsibility created by a quiet, civilized life. Konrad Quintero de Leon, a young American man, having just returned home to New York after his schooling at Oxford University, decides to venture west to rediscover that lost rhythm and peel off the layers that have muffled it for so long.

Set in the 1840s, some of America’s most restless years, Konrad begins an endless journey in search of his own “manifest destiny.” He embarks on a westward expedition with the famous explorer John C. Fremont and legendary mountain man Kit Carson. He roams the wild Texas frontier with the Texas Rangers and fights in the bloody Battle of Monterrey under the command of General Zachary Taylor. But the life of a restless wanderer is not an easy one, as Konrad discovers when he falls in love with the beautiful and exciting Anastasia Carriere—the fiancée of another man. He is cast into a desperate battle where he must choose between the woman he loves and the adventure that he craves.

WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING

"Only out a few weeks this novel is already getting rave reviews. You might want to give this one a shot." - from BookTalk.org

"Phillips fills the reader's hearts with their own desire to rediscover something new and exciting in their lives." - from Barnes & Noble reader review

Pacific Book Review, August 10, 2010, August 9, 2010

By www.pacificbookreview.com (California, USA)

This review is from: Restless Heart (Paperback)

Reviewed by: Barbara Miller, Pacific Book Review

Title: Restless Heart: A Novel

T. William Phillips emerges on the literary stage of greatness with his destined-to-be-epic novel "Restless Heart." "To thine own self be true," echoes from William Shakespeare, whereas "Justice by God. Truth by will. Duty by heart," will be etched in the memory of the readers of T. William Phillips' exquisite novel.

The book is appropriately titled "Restless Heart," as "restless" is indeed the proper adjective to describe the heart of Konrad Quintero de Leon. The reader is taken on a journey throughout the expanding United States of America during the mid 19th Century, a formative era often overlooked in contemporary literature. Written in the first person, as if it were an ambrosial diary professing the most intimate thoughts and observations of Konrad, the reader gets immersed within this novel. It is fair to say the book is written within Konrad's mind. The events are seen through his eyes, the dialog from his words or to his ears, his destiny chosen by his thoughts, revealed only to him as well as to the privileged readers. This creates a most memorable experience, transporting one into a surrealistic zone laying witness to this man's life from within his mind, through the words of his narration, as honest as a confession to God.

"What if I die here today? I asked myself. What if this is the last thing I ever do? Has my time come so soon? Could it be? Is it possible that my fate is to die here in the walls of this Mexican city? If it is my fate to die now, will I be happy with the life I leave behind? No! There is so much more I must do! So much I don't know!"

T. William Phillips has certainly done his research establishing his characters with complete credibility, conviction and confidence. Paralleling history with exact adherence to people and events which helped shaped this country; he interlaced human conduct within his characters with an inherent wisdom beyond his years. The self-evident amount of work that has gone into his creation shows a humble respect for those fortunate enough to find the opportunity to read his novel. My advice to all is if you can't fine the opportunity to read this - make it. This book should be required reading by English Literature courses and novelist's workshops. Impeccable in presentation, T. William Phillips is by all accounts destined to become renown in our day as a contemporary literary force and an inspiration to all writers.

Sujets

• Westerns
• Nueva York
• Mardi Gras en Nueva Orleans
• Absenta
• Nueva Orleans
• Vudú
• Universidad de Oxford
• La Habana
• Río Misisipi
• México
• Mexican?American War
• Culinary art
• Santa Fe Trail
• New York City
• Steamboat
• Moonshine
• Manifest Destiny
• New Orleans
• Mardi Gras
• University of Oxford
• Mississippi River
• Gymnastics
• Fencing
• Poetry
• Kit Carson
• Frontier
• Havana
• Mexico
• Masquerade
• Cuba
• Piste de Santa Fe
• Absinthe
• Texas Rangers
• Voodoo
• Bateau à vapeur
• Grand Tour
• Destinée manifeste
• Torture
• La Nouvelle-Orléans
• Université d'Oxford
• San Antonio
• Opera
• Fiction
• Piano
• Escrime
• Monterrey
• Texas
• New York

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 09 juin 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781450232531
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

RESTLESS HEART
T. William Phillips

iUniverse, Inc.
New York Bloomington

Restless Heart
 
Copyright © 2010 T. William Phillips
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
iUniverse
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Bloomington, IN 47403
www.iuniverse.com
1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
ISBN: 978-1-4502-3251-7 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-4502-3252-4 (cloth)
ISBN: 978-1-4502-3253-1 (ebk)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010907689
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 6/2/2010
Contents
Book 1: Duty by Heart
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
Book 2: Justice by God
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
Book 3: Truth by Will
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX

To my brother, Wesley, whose res tless heart still beats in my own…
 
and to my beloved aunt, Cindy, who dances on the stars.
BOOK I
Duty by Heart
I
MY RESTLESS HEART BEATS to a rhythm of its own. A rhythm that has been lost in time and nature and has become so deeply hidden that few ever hear it.
It took me eighteen years to finally hear the strange, offbeat drum in my chest. I could always feel it but was too ignorant and too deaf to listen to it. Aristocracy and expectation had created layer upon layer of fat that had muffled and softened the true beat of my heart.
My restless heart is a map with no end. It does not tell me where to go or how to get there, but it tells me when to move one foot forward and when to move the other foot in front of it. These steps are never rhythmic.
Training myself to break the rhythm was the hardest part. After living my life being taught to do all things to a rhythm, even if the rhythm was of my own creation, it takes great strength and discipline to un-train something that is not just taught but is ingrained in our minds from birth.
My restless heart began beating its inconsistent beat on December 21, 1820, when I forced my mother into labor one month before I was supposed to be born. I nearly killed her in the process, but she was a strong woman of strong German blood and recovered very quickly. My premature birth gave my mother an excuse to use such phrases as, “You were impatient coming into the world, and you’re impatient to leave it,” when I would do something dangerous and thoughtless, or she’d say, “Just because you were impatient coming into this world doesn’t mean you are allowed to be impatient while you’re in it.”
I was no more restless as a child than most other children, and like all children do, I eventually grew up. I had to become mature and responsible. I had to go to school and learn manners and discipline. I lost my innocence and therefore lost the ability to listen to my heart, and for years I lived in an ignorant deafness.
It wasn’t until the spring of 1838 that I began to hear the arrhythmic beat of my heart once again. As a child, I did not think about what my heart told me; I simply followed it blindly and without hesitation. As I was approaching the mature age of eighteen, I started to decipher the beats and ponder what they meant.
My friends were preparing to enter institutions of higher learning, and some of my more privileged friends had already begun apprenticeships at the businesses of their fathers, family friends, or distant connections made by family influence. I was being urged by my father to study at Harvard. I longed for a higher education, but not for the same reasons as my friends. Their families had made grandiose plans for them, and, like sheep, they were following these plans blindly and contentedly. They had grown accustomed to the luxuries and spoils, which their parents had provided for them, and their only goal was to be able to continue living in that fashion free of their parents. They would go on to their universities and receive great educations, and thus they would graduate to high-profile, high-paying jobs. Their jobs would not have them doing something they loved, for they did not even know what they loved. They loved what their parents and society told them to love, and what they loved was money, luxury, laziness, work, and conformity. I don’t know how or why I started seeing these things in this light, but I knew I wanted something more. I did not want education; I wanted knowledge. I wanted to see the world and learn from experience as well as from books.
I longed to see Europe; after all, my mother, Lenora, came from the Mann family in Berlin, and my father, Rafael, came from the Quintero de Leon family in Spain; therefore, I decided to leave America to attend Oxford University in England. I wrote my father a three-page letter of why and how I had come to my decision. He read the letter and did not say a word about it for two days. Finally, he told me that he supported my decision and that I would leave for Oxford in the fall.
My leaving for Oxford was bittersweet, as I would come to learn is true of all partings, some more bitter or more sweet than others. In this case it was sweeter, for I was full of excitement for the unknown. I had never seen the world outside New York City except to go to the countryside a few times when I was younger, but I took comfort in the fact that for the first time in my life, I was following my heart, not simply because I listened to what it told me, but because I understood what it told me.
I arrived in London in September of 1838, after a long journey across the Atlantic Ocean, from which I learned that I do not get seasick, even after watching others lean over the ship’s railing. I was met by my uncle, Friedrich Mann, whom I had never met before. He was not quiet and stone-faced, as I had imagined all Germans to be. In fact, he had kind, inviting blue eyes and a charming smile with which he greeted me. He shook my hand firmly, patted me on the back, and told me how pleased he was to finally meet his sister’s son. He told me how much I looked like my mother, which I took as a great compliment, for I found his resemblance to my mother uncanny, and he was a handsome man. His cheekbones were high and sharp, resting symmetrically on either side of his gradual, pointed nose, and his long face ended upon a defined jaw line and a subtle chin.
We spent the night in London so he could show me around the city. I thought it was fantastic. I saw, of course, The Queen’s House, where Britain’s newest monarch, Queen Victoria, resided. However, what I found most interesting was the remains of The Palace of Westminster, which had been mostly destroyed by a fire in 1834. Friedrich told me that they had debated for two years what kind of design they would use to rebuild the House of Parliament. Neoclassical was the popular style of the time, but Britain associated it with America, revolution, and Republicanism. They finally decided in 1836 that they would go with a Gothic style. I thought it would be grand. Neoclassical and Elizabethan were boring to me. To me, Gothic was the height of man’s architectural creativity and intellect.
The next day, we rode in a carriage to Oxford. I immediately fell in love with the city. I had never seen such buildings and structures except in paintings. I tried to contain my excitement as I thought about all that I would see over the next four years.
The carriage dropped us off in front of the building where Friedrich had reserved a flat for us on the River Thames, which in Oxford they called “The Isis”. We met with the landlord, and I paid the rent for the first six months with the money my father had given me for room, board, and food.
My mother had written to Friedrich after the decision of my education had been made. She told him that his nephew had been accepted at Oxford and would be attending in the late fall. She told him that she thought it would be a great opportunity for us to get to know each other and that my father would pay for him to move to Oxford and live with me. Friedrich happily accepted the offer. I was a little uncomfortable and slightly irritated at first, for I was looking forward to the romantic solitude of living alone, and living with a man I had never met would be awkward. When I learned that my Uncle Friedrich was a master in the art of fencing, my mood changed completely as I thought of all that he could teach me.
Uncle Friedrich had owned a fencing school in Wiesbaden, which had been very successful and had brought him much money. An Italian fencing master had offered him a great deal for the school, and Friedrich had leaped at the opportunity to retire. He