Going to the Sun

by James McManus

Book Overview

Seven years ago, Penny's boyfriend was savagely attacked by a bear, setting off a chain of tragic events. Now, fighting a debilitating illness and haunted by her past, she finds herself incapable of... This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0060173742
• ISBN13: 9780060173746
• Release Date: January 1996
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
• Length: 341 Pages
• Weight: 1.30 lbs.
• Dimensions: 1.1" x 6.4" x 9.6"

Customer Reviews

Inside a Woman?

Here's what I liked about GOING INTO THE SUN. First, James McManus seems to have great insight into womanhood. My female friend who recommended this novel agreed. In this respect, the book is artful and ingenious. The internal talk within the main character is utterly fascinating. Second, McManus has a rare command of the English language. He is able to put words together that creates such a vivid portrayal of the characters, they do NOT appear to be fictional. Reading this book is more like watching a movie. McManus creates pictures in my mind.Now, I don't like many of the outcomes that happened in the book. I suspect my uneasiness is related to McManus vivid writing style. I would describe many passages in the book as "unnerving" and "distressing." McManus' writing can put the reader on edge. You're not going to like it, but you won't be able to stop reading.At the beginning, I had a great admiration for the heroine, Penny Culligan. I was astounded with this disabled woman's courage. My admiration for her grew stronger and stronger by each passing page. However, in the end I felt "let down." She chickened out! But then again, after some reflection (and this book WILL make you reflect), it couldn't have ended any other way. My admiration was renewed.

Excellent book

This book was "booktalked" at the WA Library Association meeting this year, so I got hold of it right away. What a beautifully written story. I can't believe someone would call it a "Judy Blume" book - gee, I don't see that at all. The fragile and yet resilient nature of Penny makes her very intriguing. James McManus has written a poetic, intelligent novel which shouldn't be missed.

I love this book--quirky, compassionate, unexpected

I've read this book twice now and have found it special both times--the language and the content both are unique. Each time, though, I've reread the ending over and over trying to ascertain what happens (maybe I just don't want to admit it). If someone would email me with their opinion (or certainty) as to what happens to Penny, I'd appreciate it.

loved it

This book was so good it hurt.Going to look for more by this author

Engaging tale of love, death and chronic illness

This novel snaked its way around my heart, and its characters have been lingering in my head for days. I'm hesitant to start in on another book because I don't want the world of Penny, the Saint and Ndele to be edged out of my consciousness. I'm curious to know what the author's personal experience with chronic illness is, because he has so perfectly captured what it feels like to inhabit a broken down body. The novel's protagonist, Penny, has a severe case of juvenile-onset diabetes. Living with a pervasive chronic illness is living with an ornery beast inside of you. Some days he leaves you alone and sleeps, but most of the time he's hungry and wants to devour your energy and spirit from the inside. You wrestle him, sometimes tame him, often ignore him as he gnaws on your leg--it's a chaotic cycle of confrontation and denial, victory and defeat. Penny is so drawn into the struggle with her diabetes that she finds it difficult to establish a positive sense of self, to identify herself as anything but a failure. The illness feels like punishment, evidence of her unworthiness. This makes it difficult for her to connect with other people. And then the first person she starts to connect with--a college boyfriend she calls the Saint--gets literally devoured by a beast, an Alaskan bear. For the next seven numb years, she stumbles around academia back in Chicago. She decides to embark on a summertime cross-country bike trek back to Alaska, both to escape and to confront. To escape the stultifying academic environment, an overbearing dissertation advisor and a way-overdue dissertation. And to confront her body's decay and her mind's obsession with how and why her boyfriend died. The bulk of the novel chronicles her journey and the dialogue that runs through her head as the bike wheels tick off Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana... It's not a glamorized journey: cheesy motels, aggressive road-hogging trucks, dubious road conditions, and sweaty t-shirts abound. But along the way she learns that something as little as a pothole can change your life. And that healing comes not from a syringe, but from the power of connecting with another human being--the healing of human kindness, the healing of human touch. What's amazing is that within this beautiful story, the author integrates provocative issues like racism and euthanasia seamlessly. They come up naturally, as part of the story, rather than stick out as "this-is-a-novel-of-the-90's" issues du jour. As someone living with a beast of a chronic illness myself, I can testify that the author's treatment of illness is spot-on. The book will linger on my nightstand, and in my heart, for quite some time, as I reread passages and smile again at how a cranky protagonist not unlike myself finds what she needs in the unlikeliest of ways.