Brookland

“At the narrative center of Brookland, Emily Barton’s second novel, is a drawing—a sketch of the bridge that gin manufacturer Prue Winship dreams of erecting between Manhattan and Brooklyn at the dawn of the 19th century; however, it doesn’t so much depict a would-be architect’s invention as represent the fundamental need to invent in the first place. As it turns out, the willingness of its illustrator, Prue’s mute sister Pearl, to conform to Prue’s detailed specifications is finite; only too late does it become clear that Pearl has her own ideas about the way the world works, and an equally fierce capacity for expressing them. It’s not just that our creative urges define us; Brookland suggests that, even more than love, imagination makes or breaks us—or does both, even in the same moment. . . . Barton’s gift with Brookland, as with [The] Testament [of Yves Gundron], is to immerse you gradually in a part-historical, part-mythical world.” — Ruth Tobias in the Weekly Dig

Brookland is the remarkable story of a determined and intelligent woman in eighteenth-century Brooklyn, who is consumed by a vision of a bridge, a gargantuan construction of timber and masonry she devises to cross the East River in a single, magnificent span.

Since her girlhood, Prudence Winship has looked across the tidal straits from her home in Brooklyn to Manhattan and yearned to traverse the distance. Now, established as the owner of the enormously successful gin distillery she inherited from her father, she can begin to realize her dream. With the help of the local surveyor, Benjamin Horsfield, and her sisters–the high-spirited, obstreperous Tem, who works with her in the distillery, and the silent, uncanny Pearl–she fires the imaginations of the people of Brooklyn and New York, promising them both a bridge to meet their most pressing practical needs and one of the most ambitious public works ever attempted. Prue’s own life and the life of the bridge become inextricably bound together as the costs of the bridge, both financial and human, rise beyond her direst expectations.

Beautifully written and breathtaking in its scope, Brookland confirms Emily Barton’s reputation as one of the finest writers of her generation, whose work, said Thomas Pynchon, is “blessedly post-ironic, engaging and heartfelt.”

The Testament of Yves Gundron

“Blessedly post-ironic, engaging and heartfelt--a story that moves with ease and certainty, deeply respecting the given world even as it shines with the integrity of dream.” — Thomas Pynchon

Here is Yves Gundron’s account of the strange events to befall Mandragora. It is a desperate, primitive place—plowing, candles, even numbers larger than twenty are all considered modern innovations. Nevertheless, there was little conflict before Yves’s invention—the harness–irrevocably transformed the Mandragorans’ lives.

Yves’s manuscript, which bears witness to these changes, has been prepared for publication by an academic named Ruth Blum—her notations supplement Yves’s story. But what at first seems a historical document proves to be something else entirely. Yves’s brother, Mandrik le Chouchou, the town mystic, regales his fellow villagers with exotic tales of his travels to “Indo-China.“And when Yves recalls the words of a song that is recognizably a blues lyric, we know that either Ruth Blum is up to something or Mandragora is not what it seems. In this sharply witty and adventurous debut novel, Emily Barton explores the two-edged sword of technology, asking what is lost in our fervent pursuit of modernity.