By Frederick Buechner
An acclaimed writer interweaves heritage and legend to re-create the lifetime of a posh guy of religion fifteen hundred years in the past. Winner of the 1987 Christianity and Literature e-book Award for Belles-Lettres.
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Extra resources for Brendan: A Novel
He and Cara sat there silent with their thin boy between them. ” Brendan 30 The Cry in the Cave cried out when he told me the tale later. “My father knew what Erc was leading to. That was his pain. My mother’s pain was for my father as well as herself. Erc saw their pain too and the pain of it half killed him for his heart was tender as a girl’s though few ever guessed it for the great size of him. My pain came later only. ” I could see his pain still there in the blue shipwreck of his eyes as he went on with his tale.
It was to such a dark pass my thoughts took me that I made the blessed sign on myself with my greasy hand to keep the Devil off and maybe that was the very thing caught Ita’s eye and made her say I was peeling off pig lips like I was laying the holy table for mass. We both did Ita’s bidding in any case, Brendan and me—Brendan to see his bit of the world and me to see it alongside him should he need me. When she set her mind to pair the two of us there was none could stop her. Even Erc minded her though she could have passed under his hairy arm and never grazed her head.
The next day Brendan gathered them at the ring of stones, Brendan in the middle and the rest all about. There was no need for a speech again. We waited in the dark for daybreak. The kindred shuffled their feet some and mumbled but they was orderly enough. Little by little it got where you could make out faces. You could hear the birds waking. A breeze come up out of the glens and bent the grass. Just when the edge of the sun first showed, Brendan took up a stout club studded with iron. The veins of his neck swelled as he raised it in both hands.
Brendan: A Novel by Frederick Buechner