An Unfortunate Woman A Journey
- 7 Jul 2001
- 9781841951461
- £9.99
- 128 pp
- 129×198mm
- 3 Apr 2014
- 9781782114840
- £7.99
- 128 pp
Achingly elliptical and sometimes stunning . . . It is heavy with introspective reflection and dark themes, yet remains buoyant with lyrical nature poetry and brilliant, electric humour.
He was an absolute original who found cause for celebration in the most unlikely places
Achingly elliptical and sometimes stunning . . . It is heavy with introspective reflection and dark themes, yet remains buoyant with lyrical nature poetry and brilliant, electric humour.
He was an absolute original who found cause for celebration in the most unlikely places
More about
the book
An Unfortunate Woman, An Unforgettable Journey was the final book written by Richard Brautigan before his death in 1984 and lay unpublished for sixteen years.
Originally written in the 160 pages of a loose-leaf notebook, the narrator of the book is trying to come to terms with the death of a friend by going on a personal odyssey which zigzags through time and landscapes, from Oakland to Hawaii, and the wilds of Montana.
An Unfortunate Woman, An Unforgettable Journey walks a fine line between fiction and memoir, between dark introspection and a lust for life, and in the last pages in particular, marks a gut-wrenching, intense, and ultimately tragic exit from fiction and life itself for the troubled author.
More about
the book
An Unfortunate Woman, An Unforgettable Journey was the final book written by Richard Brautigan before his death in 1984 and lay unpublished for sixteen years.
Originally written in the 160 pages of a loose-leaf notebook, the narrator of the book is trying to come to terms with the death of a friend by going on a personal odyssey which zigzags through time and landscapes, from Oakland to Hawaii, and the wilds of Montana.
An Unfortunate Woman, An Unforgettable Journey walks a fine line between fiction and memoir, between dark introspection and a lust for life, and in the last pages in particular, marks a gut-wrenching, intense, and ultimately tragic exit from fiction and life itself for the troubled author.
One of the last of the beat genertion, Brautigan's frequently autobiographical work [contains] strikingly poignant childhood memories and even the occasional foray into magic realism . . . quite wonderful.
Richard Brautigan's An Unfortunate Woman is not only vintage Brautigan but is among his best, filled with breathtaking insights about our life now.
One of the last of the beat genertion, Brautigan's frequently autobiographical work [contains] strikingly poignant childhood memories and even the occasional foray into magic realism . . . quite wonderful.
Richard Brautigan's An Unfortunate Woman is not only vintage Brautigan but is among his best, filled with breathtaking insights about our life now.
Richard Brautigan
View profileRichard Brautigan was born in Tacoma, Washington where he spent much of his youth, before moving to San Francisco where he became involved with other writers in the Beat Movement. During the Sixties he became one of the most prolific and prominent members of the conter-cultural movement, and wrote some of his most famous novels including Trout Fishing in America, Sombrero Fallout and A Confederate General from Big Sur.
He was found dead in 1984, aged 49, beside a bottle of alcohol and a .44 calibre gun.
His daughter, Ianthe Brautigan, has written a biography of her father, You Can’t Catch Death .
Richard Brautigan
View profileRichard Brautigan was born in Tacoma, Washington where he spent much of his youth, before moving to San Francisco where he became involved with other writers in the Beat Movement. During the Sixties he became one of the most prolific and prominent members of the conter-cultural movement, and wrote some of his most famous novels including Trout Fishing in America, Sombrero Fallout and A Confederate General from Big Sur.
He was found dead in 1984, aged 49, beside a bottle of alcohol and a .44 calibre gun.
His daughter, Ianthe Brautigan, has written a biography of her father, You Can’t Catch Death .
