#burntcoat

[jayceens]

Burntcoat Nova Scotia where the sea bed shows it’s self 12 hrs

[iansssoper]

Tides wayy out... Burntcoat Head, Bay of Fundy NS.

[jenlynnemc]

BurntCoat Head Park

[quirkycatsfatstacks]

Review: Burntcoat by Sarah Hall

Review: Burntcoat by Sarah Hall

Author: Sarah HallPublisher: Custom HouseReleased: November 2, 2021Received: Library Burntcoat wins the award for one of the most graphic novels I’ve read in 2022. And I don’t necessarily mean graphic in the gory sense. It’s a bit hard to describe – but anyone who has read Sarah Hall’s latest novel probably knows exactly what I’m talking about. A virus is spreading through the city and possibly…

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[lilianeruyters]

Sarah Hall || Burntcoat

Disturbing and intriguing novel about a sculptor who, towards the end of her life, finds love a final time.

Exposure Spoiler alert Sarah Hall has written a disturbing novel. Disturbing because it is quite apparent neither the main character nor the world are in good shape. Disturbing because of the unorthodox upbringing of the main character. Combined with beautiful writing and a well-thought of plot the result is an impressive novel. Main character Edith makes sculptures, huge ones of burnt wood, a…

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[the-phooey]

There's blindness to new lovers. They exist in the rare atmosphere of their own colony, trusting by sense and feel, creatures consuming each other, building shelters with their hopes. Other worlds cease. I know I felt something as it began, an understanding, foreboding, ordinance, even. Love is never the oldest story. It grows in the rich darkness.

Sarah Hall, Burntcoat

[opulentquotes]

I'm the wood in the fire. I've experienced, altered in nature. I am burnt, damaged, more resilient. A life is a bead of water on the black surface, so frail, so strong, its world incredibly held.

Burntcoat by Sarah Hall

[opulentquotes]

There's blindness to new lovers. They exist in the rare atmosphere of their own colony, trusting by sense and feel, creatures consuming each other, building shelters with their hopes. Other worlds cease. I know I felt something as it began, an understanding, foreboding, ordinance, even. Love is never the oldest story. It grows in the rich darkness.

Burntcoat by Sarah Hall