OverDrive désire utiliser des fichiers témoins pour stocker des informations sur votre ordinateur afin d'améliorer votre expérience sur notre site Web. Un des fichiers témoins que nous utilisons est très important pour certains aspects du fonctionnement du site, et il a déjà été stocké. Vous pouvez supprimer ou bloquer tous les fichiers témoins de ce site, mais ceci pourrait affecter certaines caractéristiques ou services du site. Afin d'en apprendre plus sur les fichiers témoins que nous utilisons et comment les supprimer, cliquez ici pour lire notre politique de confidentialité.
#1 NEW YORK TIMES, WALL STREET JOURNAL, AND BOSTON GLOBE BESTSELLER • One of the most acclaimed books of our time: an unforgettable memoir about a young woman who, kept out of school, leaves her survivalist family and goes on to earn a PhD from Cambridge University
“Extraordinary . . . an act of courage and self-invention.”—The New York Times
NAMED ONE OF THE TEN BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW • ONE OF PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA’S FAVORITE BOOKS OF THE YEAR • BILL GATES’S HOLIDAY READING LIST • FINALIST: National Book Critics Circle’s Award In Autobiography and John Leonard Prize For Best First Book • PEN/Jean Stein Book Award • Los Angeles Times Book Prize
Born to survivalists in the mountains of Idaho, Tara Westover was seventeen the first time she set foot in a classroom. Her family was so isolated from mainstream society that there was no one to ensure the children received an education, and no one to intervene when one of Tara’s older brothers became violent. When another brother got himself into college, Tara decided to try a new kind of life. Her quest for knowledge transformed her, taking her over oceans and across continents, to Harvard and to Cambridge University. Only then would she wonder if she’d traveled too far, if there was still a way home.
“Beautiful and propulsive . . . Despite the singularity of [Westover’s] childhood, the questions her book poses are universal: How much of ourselves should we give to those we love? And how much must we betray them to grow up?”—Vogue ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: The Washington Post, O: The Oprah Magazine, Time, NPR, Good Morning America, San Francisco Chronicle, The Guardian, The Economist, Financial Times, Newsday, New York Post, theSkimm, Refinery29, Bloomberg, Self, Real Simple, Town & Country, Bustle, Paste, Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, LibraryReads, Book Riot, Pamela Paul, KQED, New York Public Library
#1 NEW YORK TIMES, WALL STREET JOURNAL, AND BOSTON GLOBE BESTSELLER • One of the most acclaimed books of our time: an unforgettable memoir about a young woman who, kept out of school, leaves her survivalist family and goes on to earn a PhD from Cambridge University
“Extraordinary . . . an act of courage and self-invention.”—The New York Times
NAMED ONE OF THE TEN BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW • ONE OF PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA’S FAVORITE BOOKS OF THE YEAR • BILL GATES’S HOLIDAY READING LIST • FINALIST: National Book Critics Circle’s Award In Autobiography and John Leonard Prize For Best First Book • PEN/Jean Stein Book Award • Los Angeles Times Book Prize
Born to survivalists in the mountains of Idaho, Tara Westover was seventeen the first time she set foot in a classroom. Her family was so isolated from mainstream society that there was no one to ensure the children received an education, and no one to intervene when one of Tara’s older brothers became violent. When another brother got himself into college, Tara decided to try a new kind of life. Her quest for knowledge transformed her, taking her over oceans and across continents, to Harvard and to Cambridge University. Only then would she wonder if she’d traveled too far, if there was still a way home.
“Beautiful and propulsive . . . Despite the singularity of [Westover’s] childhood, the questions her book poses are universal: How much of ourselves should we give to those we love? And how much must we betray them to grow up?”—Vogue ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: The Washington Post, O: The Oprah Magazine, Time, NPR, Good Morning America, San Francisco Chronicle, The Guardian, The Economist, Financial Times, Newsday, New York Post, theSkimm, Refinery29, Bloomberg, Self, Real Simple, Town & Country, Bustle, Paste, Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, LibraryReads, Book Riot, Pamela Paul, KQED, New York Public Library
En raison de restrictions imposées par l'éditeur, la bibliothèque n'est pas en mesure d'acheter des exemplaires supplémentaires de ce titre et nous vous présentons toutes nos excuses si la liste d'attente est longue. N'oubliez pas de regarder s'il existe d'autres exemplaires, car d'autres éditions sont peut-être disponibles.
En raison de restrictions imposées par l'éditeur, la bibliothèque n'est pas en mesure d'acheter des exemplaires supplémentaires de ce titre et nous vous présentons toutes nos excuses si la liste d'attente est longue. N'oubliez pas de regarder s'il existe d'autres exemplaires, car d'autres éditions sont peut-être disponibles.
I’m standing on the red railway car that sits abandoned next to the barn. The wind soars, whipping my hair across my face and pushing a chill down the open neck of my shirt. The gales are strong this close to the mountain, as if the peak itself is exhaling. Down below, the valley is peaceful, undisturbed. Meanwhile our farm dances: the heavy conifer trees sway slowly, while the sagebrush and thistles quiver, bowing before every puff and pocket of air. Behind me a gentle hill slopes upward and stitches itself to the mountain base. If I look up, I can see the dark form of the Indian Princess.
The hill is paved with wild wheat. If the conifers and sagebrush are soloists, the wheat field is a corps de ballet, each stem following all the rest in bursts of movement, a million ballerinas bending, one after the other, as great gales dent their golden heads. The shape of that dent lasts only a moment, and is as close as anyone gets to seeing wind.
Turning toward our house on the hillside, I see movements of a different kind, tall shadows stiffly pushing through the currents. My brothers are awake, testing the weather. I imagine my mother at the stove, hovering over bran pancakes. I picture my father hunched by the back door, lacing his steel-toed boots and threading his callused hands into welding gloves. On the highway below, the school bus rolls past without stopping.
I am only seven, but I understand that it is this fact, more than any other, that makes my family different: we don’t go to school.
Dad worries that the Government will force us to go but it can’t, because it doesn’t know about us. Four of my parents’ seven children don’t have birth certificates. We have no medical records because we were born at home and have never seen a doctor or nurse.* We have no school records because we’ve never set foot in a classroom. When I am nine, I will be issued a Delayed Certificate of Birth, but at this moment, according to the state of Idaho and the federal government, I do not exist.
Of course I did exist. I had grown up preparing for the Days of Abomination, watching for the sun to darken, for the moon to drip as if with blood. I spent my summers bottling peaches and my winters rotating supplies. When the World of Men failed, my family would continue on, unaffected.
I had been educated in the rhythms of the mountain, rhythms in which change was never fundamental, only cyclical. The same sun appeared each morning, swept over the valley and dropped behind the peak. The snows that fell in winter always melted in the spring. Our lives were a cycle—the cycle of the day, the cycle of the seasons—circles of perpetual change that, when complete, meant nothing had changed at all. I believed my family was a part of this immortal pattern, that we were, in some sense, eternal. But eternity belonged only to the mountain.
There’s a story my father used to tell about the peak. She was a grand old thing, a cathedral of a mountain. The range had other mountains, taller, more imposing, but Buck’s Peak was the most finely crafted. Its base spanned a mile, its dark form swelling out of the earth and rising into a flawless spire. From a distance, you could see the impression of a woman’s body on the mountain face: her legs formed of huge ravines, her hair a spray of pines fanning over the northern ridge. Her stance was commanding, one leg thrust forward in a powerful movement, more stride than step.
My father called her the Indian Princess. She emerged each...
Au sujet de l’auteur-
Tara Westover was born in Idaho in 1986. She received her BA from Brigham Young University in 2008 and was subsequently awarded a Gates Cambridge Scholarship. She earned an MPhil from Trinity College, Cambridge, in 2009, and in 2010 was a visiting fellow at Harvard University. She returned to Cambridge, where she was awarded a PhD in history in 2014. Educated is her first book.
March 26, 2018 Actor Whelan chooses a simple, straight reading of Westover’s memoir about growing up in a dysfunctional, abusive fundamentalist family. It’s a wise choice, partly because there are so many dramatic scenes throughout the book that it would exhaust the listener to have them dramatized, and partly because Westover portrays herself as a passive and compliant family member until the day she enters a classroom for the first time at the age of 17. Whelan creates an angry, gravelly voice for Westover’s paranoid, fundamentalist Mormon father, a controlling and abusive man terrified of the influence of teachers and doctors. While preparing for the imminent end of the world, he homeschools his children and keeps them ignorant of all events outside their isolated Idaho home. Some family members are maimed by hideous accidents, and physical fights are common in the household. Still struggling with the ingrained need to be loyal to her family, Westover eventually attends college and earns a Ph.D. from Cambridge University. Whelan smoothly guides listeners through Westover’s physical and emotional traumas as she powerfully conveys Westover’s transform from “a wicked thing” to a scholar. A Random House hardcover.
Starred review from December 11, 2017 A girl claws her way out of a claustrophobic, violent fundamentalist family into an elite academic career in this searing debut memoir. Westover recounts her upbringing with six siblings on an Idaho farm dominated by her father Gene (a pseudonym), a devout Mormon with a paranoid streak who tried to live off the grid, kept four children (including the author) out of school, refused to countenance doctors (Westover’s mother, Faye, was an unlicensed midwife who sold homeopathic medicines), and stockpiled supplies and guns for the end-time. Westover was forced to work from the age of 11 in Gene’s scrap and construction businesses under incredibly dangerous conditions; the grisly narrative includes lost fingers, several cases of severe brain trauma, and two horrible burns that Faye treated with herbal remedies. Thickening the dysfunction was the author’s bullying brother, who physically brutalized her for wearing makeup and other immodest behaviors. When she finally escaped the toxic atmosphere of dogma, suspicion, and patriarchy to attend college and then grad school at Cambridge, her identity crisis precipitated a heartbreaking rupture. Westover’s vivid prose makes this saga of the pressures of conformity and self-assertion that warp a family seem both terrifying and ordinary.
Informations sur le titre+
Éditeur
Books on Tape
OverDrive Listen
Date de publication:
OverDrive MP3 Audiobook
Date de publication:
Informations relatives aux droits numériques+
OverDrive MP3 Audiobook
Gravure sur CD:
Autorisé
Transfert sur un appareil:
Autorisé
Transfert sur un appareil Apple®:
Autorisé
Lecture en public:
Non autorisé
Partage de fichier:
Non autorisé
Utilisation entre pairs:
Non autorisé
Tous les exemplaires de ce titre, y compris ceux qui ont été transférés sur des appareils portables et autres supports, doivent être supprimés ou détruits une fois la période d'emprunt écoulée.
Recommandez à votre bibliothèque qu'elle ajoute ce titre à la collection numérique.
Plus de détails
Disponibilité limitée
La disponibilité peut changer durant le mois selon le budget de la bibliothèque.
est disponible pendant jours.
Une fois que la lecture débute, vous avez heures pour visionner le titre.
Permission
Le format OverDrive de ce livre électronique comporte ne narration professionnelle qui joue pendant que vous lisez dans votre navigateur. Apprenez-en plus ici.
Réservations
Nombre total de retenues:
Accès restreint
Certaines options de formatage ont été désactivées. Il est possible que vous voyiez d'autres options de téléchargement en dehors de ce réseau.
Bahreïn, Égypte, Hong Kong, Iraq, Israël, Jordanie, Koweït, Liban, Mauritanie, Maroc, Oman, Palestine, Qatar, Arabie saoudite, Soudan, République arabe syrienne, Tunisie, Turquie, Émirats arabes unis, et le Yémen
Vous avez atteint votre limite de commandes à la bibliothèque pour les titres numériques.
Pour faire de la place à plus d'emprunts, vous pouvez retourner des titres à partir de votre page Emprunts.
Limite d'emprunts atteinte
Vous avez emprunté et rendu un nombre excessif d'articles sur votre compte pendant une courte période de temps. Essayez de nouveau dans quelques jours.
Il ne reste plus d'exemplaire de cette parution. Veuillez essayer d'emprunter ce titre de nouveau lorsque la prochaine parution sera disponible.
| Se connecter
Sur la prochaine page, on vous demandera de vous connecter à votre compte de bibliothèque.
Si c'est la première fois que vous sélectionnez « Envoyer à mon NOOK », vous serez redirigé sur une page de Barnes & Noble pour vous connecter à (ou créer) votre compte NOOK. Vous devriez n'avoir qu'à vous connecter une seule fois à votre compte NOOK afin de le relier à votre compte de bibliothèque. Après cette étape unique, les publications périodiques seront automatiquement envoyées à votre compte NOOK lorsque vous sélectionnez « Envoyer à mon NOOK ».
La première fois que vous sélectionnez « Send to NOOK » (Envoyer à mon NOOK), vous serez redirigé sur la page de Barnes & Nobles pour vous connecter à (ou créer) votre compte NOOK. Vous devriez n'avoir qu'à vous connecter une seule fois à votre compte NOOK afin de le relier à votre compte de bibliothèque. Après cette étape unique, les publications périodiques seront automatiquement envoyées à votre compte NOOK lorsque vous sélectionnez « Send to NOOK » (Envoyer à mon NOOK).
Vous pouvez lire des publications périodiques sur n'importe quelle tablette NOOK ou dans l'application de lecture NOOK gratuite pour iOS, Android ou Windows 8.
Votre appareil n’aura plus accès à la bibliothèque numérique après le 30 octobre.
Nous apportons les mises à jour de sécurité nécessaires qui empêcheront cet appareil d’avoir accès à la bibliothèque numérique à partir du 30 octobre 2020.