By Tom Wolfe
Tom Wolfe, the grasp social novelist of our time, the spot-on chronicler of all issues modern and cultural, offers a sensational new novel approximately existence, love, and learning--or the shortcoming of it--amid today's American colleges.
Our tale unfolds at fictional Dupont collage: these Olympian halls of scholarship housing the cream of America's formative years, the roseate Gothic spires and manicured lawns suffused with culture . . . Or so apparently to attractive, superb Charlotte Simmons, a sheltered freshman from North Carolina. yet Charlotte quickly learns, to her mounting dismay, that for the upper-crust coeds of Dupont, intercourse, cool, and kegs trump educational success each time.
As Charlotte encounters the paragons of Dupont's privileged elite--her roommate, Beverly, a Groton-educated Brahmin in lusty pursuit of lacrosse avid gamers; Jojo Johanssen, the one white beginning participant on Dupont's godlike basketball group, whose place is threatened by way of a hotshot black freshman from the initiatives; the younger Turk of Saint Ray fraternity, Hoyt Thorpe, whose heady feel of entitlement and social domination is clinched by way of his unintentional brawl with a bodyguard for the governor of California; and Adam Geller, one of many Millennial Mutants who run the university's "independent" newspaper and who ponder themselves the final bastion of highbrow undertaking at the sex-crazed, jock-obsessed campus--she is seduced by way of the heady glamour of recognition, betraying either her values and upbringing ahead of she grasps the ability of being different--and the unique attract of her personal innocence.
With his trademark satirical wit and famously sharp eye for telling element, Wolfe attracts on vast observations at campuses around the kingdom to immortalize the early-21st-century college-going adventure.
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Additional resources for I am Charlotte Simmons
He sized them up and determined what their contents could possibly bear: a hand-carved bed frame made in Dubai; a pair of woman’s shoes, preferably Italian and a size 6 with adjustable leather straps for an ankle that may have grown an inch or two larger; two arms, half a torso, and one right leg of a thirty-five-year-old man who stood five-foot-ten and had been reduced to one hundred thirty-four pounds by a combination of hunger and illness. He had learned by practice and observation how to measure the strength and interior scale of any one box simply by looking 40 D I N AW M E N G E S T U at it.
Of course I’m listening,” I told her. “That’s what I’ve been doing. ” I learned after that to never try to placate her with what she knew to be simple, generic words of comfort. A s angry as Angela may have been that night, she was calm and rational once again a day later. There were other concerns on which she could focus her energy. I had lost my job, and after the following week, when my last paycheck arrived, I would no longer be able to help with the rent or the massive debt that Angela had assumed putting herself through college and law school.
While she claimed to have forgiven me for lying to her, the damage remained. Her trust in me, and our relationship, was far from repaired, and I knew that a part of her was constantly on the lookout for any sign of deception. During the weeks I spent at home before I eventually began teaching at the academy, I felt obliged to send her messages several times a day to assure her that I was either at home or diligently searching for a new job. I told her frequently that I loved her, and couldn’t have been happier than where I was right now with her.