Download Darling, ich bin deine Tante Mame!: Roman by Patrick Dennis PDF

By Patrick Dennis

Charleston, Champagner und ein Spritzer Chanel

Gerade zehn Jahre alt ist der kleine Patrick, als er Ende der 20er Jahre in die Obhut seiner New Yorker Tante Mame kommt. Mame führt das schillernde Leben der Boheme – extravagant, wild und gar nicht kindgerecht. Aber nun stürzt sie sich mit Feuereifer auf die Erziehung des Waisenknaben – so, wie sie alles im Leben angeht: voller Enthusiasmus, oft leichtsinnig, aber immer mit den besten Absichten. Und auch nach vielen Jahren, nachdem Mame durch den Börsenkrach arm und durch eine glückliche Heirat wieder wohlhabend wurde, nachdem Patrick durch ihr unberechenbares Wirken immer wieder in die haarsträubendsten Situationen geriet, kann er sich keinen liebenswerteren Menschen vorstellen. Aber auch keinen verrückteren ...

Nostalgisch und charmant – eine bezaubernde Reise in das big apple der 30er Jahre

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Extra info for Darling, ich bin deine Tante Mame!: Roman

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75. I found that to be outrageous. 25. The ladies crowded around the table, calling out their orders. Frank, behind the table, couldn’t keep up. His stomach brushed up against the chocolate on the top of the éclairs and stripped some off. No one noticed but me. The edges of the éclairs were now smeared and missing chocolate. I wanted one to top off the hot dog but I saw bits of Frank’s shirt fuzz captured in the remaining chocolate and just couldn’t do it. He smiled at me and winked. He thought I didn’t notice, or maybe did and he wanted me to keep quiet about it.

She had not stopped her winning streak. Ten dollars and a Twizzler. Single stick. Not a pack. She was diabetic. I didn’t understand the Holy Virgin sometimes. All these women were diabetic. Still with the Twizzlers every week. I walked down to the concession table and saw éclairs, hot dogs, and bags of potato chips. The low rent kind. 25. 75. I found that to be outrageous. 25. The ladies crowded around the table, calling out their orders. Frank, behind the table, couldn’t keep up. His stomach brushed up against the chocolate on the top of the éclairs and stripped some off.

Those cars were speeding back and forth trying to escape the ash. I walked down Sunset toward the up-lit billboards advertising booze and women and jeans and dresses and everything I wanted and my unemployment check could not afford me. I walked past the roads leading up into the hills and the houses slanting down the hills. The Chateau – Los Angeles’s own castle, and past the fraying palm trees. They were dropping fruit and fronds all along the boulevard, down on girls holding down their dresses and plastic bags careening through the air.

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