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Description
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Informations
Publié par | Marshall Cavendish International |
Date de parution | 15 mai 2018 |
Nombre de lectures | 0 |
EAN13 | 9789814828000 |
Langue | English |
Poids de l'ouvrage | 1 Mo |
Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0450€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.
Extrait
This is a love story whose basic ingredients spell tragedy. Girl meets boy, boy dies before his 25th birthday. But this was no ordinary guy. Daniel s defective, failing heart is matched by an instinct to lift others with his positive spirit. It could be worse, Daniel tells his mother when they hear he only has a few more months to live. His mother is incredulous: What could be worse? To go through it alone, without the support of family and friends, he replies. Clara Lock s beautifully written paean to her late friend pays tribute to our capacity, underused by most of us, to live full lives by being there for others.
- Cherian George, Professor, Hong Kong Baptist University and author of Singapore, Incomplete
Midway through this excellent book, I had to put it down, compose myself for days, before I found the strength to continue. Clara Lock s vivid and authentic writing brought me to tears on numerous occasions. Yet the optimism of the protagonist gave the narrative an uplifting arc, offering hope and belief when none seemed possible. Stay Gold is a touching story which will keep you engaged, emotional and exhilarated. Keep the Kleenex near.
- Peh Shing Huei, Singapore Literature Prize-winning author of When the Party Ends
Every so often, a book comes along that gives us strength, that inspires us, that reminds us of how lucky we are to be given the gift of life and the tremendous good we can do with the limited time we have. Daniel s story teaches us just that. It is a must-read book to nourish your soul and inspire your heart.
- Adam Khoo, bestselling author of I Am Gifted, So Are You!
Ill, but not ill. Believing, while not believing. Touching, though detached. That s how the living faces the thought of dying. When Daniel was born, doctors said he would not live long. He thought he would not fall in love. But he did fall in love, and lived beyond his allotted time. He lived two weeks short of just one more precious, precarious year. In her ode to Daniel, a love that might have been, Clara Lock is evasive and therefore most revealing.
- Margaret Chan, Associate Professor, Singapore Management University
This book is all heart. It tells of an extraordinary individual determined to embrace life in abundance, beyond physical limitations. Narrated in a voice that is refreshingly personal and compelling, the story drew me in with each carefully chosen and placed word. A heart-warming and timely read to urge us to value people without qualifiers.
- Monica Lim, author of The Good, the Bad and the PSLE
A beautiful story about an amazing young man who was born with a medically imperfect heart, yet lived life more wholeheartedly than most. Clara weaves together an emotionally powerful narrative with an important lesson: Live every day fully.
- Gaurav Keerthi, author of Think, Speak, Win
With the support of
2018 Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Private Limited
Text Clara Lock
Published by Marshall Cavendish Editions
An imprint of Marshall Cavendish International
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Requests for permission should be addressed to the Publisher, Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Private Limited, 1 New Industrial Road, Singapore 536196. Tel: (65) 6213 9300. E-mail: genref@sg.marshallcavendish.com
Website: www.marshallcavendish.com/genref
The publisher makes no representation or warranties with respect to the contents of this book, and specifically disclaims any implied warranties or merchantability or fitness for any particular purpose, and shall in no event be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damage, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages.
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National Library Board, Singapore Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
Name(s): Lock, Clara.
Title: Stay gold : an almost healthy boy in a mostly healthy world / Clara Lock.
Description: Singapore : Marshall Cavendish Editions, 2018 | With the support of National Arts Council Singapore --Title page verso.
Identifier(s): OCN 1030618378 | e-ISBN: 978 981 4828 00 0
Subject(s): LCSH: Tetralogy of Fallot--Patients--Biology. | Grief. | Courage.
Classification: DDC 362.196120092--dc23
Printed in Singapore
This is a story based on actual events recreated from the author s memories, interviews with the people involved and conversations with Daniel. Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. Certain incidents and characters have been altered for storytelling purposes, and certain characters may be composites.
For Daniel
Nature s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
- Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay
Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold.
- S. E. Hinton, The Outsiders
Contents
_______
Prologue: The Wake
Quite Healthy
Better Together
Courage Doesn t Always Roar
Thinkers Circle
Be Here Now
Live Full, Love Hard, Be Grateful and Own that Shit
Epilogue: Love in a Time of Travelling
About TOF
Prologue: The Wake
It occured to Angela that they ought to turn the music down. It was approaching 11pm, and the steady stream of neighbours walking past the Pasir Ris void deck had dwindled into a trickle. The neighbours upstairs would probably not appreciate Jay-Z and Kanye West preaching about rolleys that don t tick tock . But it was Daniel s party, and Angela chafed at the idea that anyone might find Daniel s playlist too loud.
Tonight this party wasn t going anywhere. Or, as Ke ha was now singing, tonight imma fight till we see the sunlight, tik tok on the clock but the party don t stop .
She had scoffed at Niggas in Paris too - that s noise, not music , she had said, rolling her eyes at the bling-bling bravado - the first time Daniel played it over their living room sound system.
He called it the shitz , and proceeded to do a little jig as he ironed a white shirt in his underwear while getting ready to meet his friends for dinner. Angela had come to understand it was code for clubbing, at Zouk or Kyo or Attica, one of those white lies he told to protect her. In letting it slide she didn t know who was doing whom a favour.
Eventually Angela came to know Niggas in Paris as a party staple, and one New Year s Eve when Daniel took her to Altimate and popped a bottle of champagne in honour of his very special guest , the chorus had become familiar, and she even found herself shimmying a little to its insistent refrain.
That shit cray
That shit cray
That shit cray
____________
Cans of half-drunk Heineken perspired onto white plastic tablecloths, condensation making their bases sticky.
Seven boys sat around the foldable wooden table, work shirts rumpled and untucked, mobile phones propped against the stacks of poker chips arranged neatly in front of each player. There was an ease with which they read each other, each one anticipating the next person s moves; the swift soundlessness of money changing hands across the table; the years of inside jokes that were only funny because they had been there.
Columns of ones, twos, fives and tens added up to a 50 buy-in they all would guard jealously, even though they had been playing together for so long that all knew how the game would turn out.
They knew who would bet big on the first hand; who never raised unless he had at least a pair of aces; who rarely thought twice about an all-in because he could easily afford the stakes. They could even be fairly certain who would be bled out in a matter of rounds, and when half the table was similarly broke they knew who would be left standing to collect the remaining chips.
Poker, tonight, had been Daniel s mother s idea. You guys should play poker, Angela said, stopping by their table round midnight.
Alwyn had begun to protest. It wouldn t be proper to gamble, it was Daniel s wake, they ought to be respectful.
Angela considered this for a second. Then she said quietly, Daniel would have wanted to play, and they all knew it was true.
Ben raised his beer. For Daniel, he said. They all drained their cans, and Bryan dealt the first hand.
Two to stay, three to raise. Alwyn, you in?
He should have been paying attention, but he hadn t really been thinking about his cards. Fatigue and beer had melded the game into a single, hazy round that Alwyn was struggling to keep up with. Poker is about consistency, he could hear Daniel saying, it s about winning a little bit in every round rather than once on a big hand. But Alwyn was constantly looking for his one fell swoop, discarding every hand that did not look promising and that, he supposed, was why he never really won at poker.
Fold, he said, sliding his cards across the table and leaning back in his chair. He took a long swig of beer, downing the last few drops before crumpling the can.
____________
Melissa stayed up too, scrolling through hundreds of Facebook albums and Instagram photos.
There was her brother as a toddler, his chubby torso covered with wires and stickers for the electrocardiogram he did every year. Daniel with a gap-toothed grin in front of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, bathing an elephant in Chiang Mai,