By Lauren Belfer
Washington publish Best Novel of the Year
An NPR most sensible secret of the Year
“An engrossing and bold novel that vividly portrays a severe time in American history.” — Booklist (starred overview)
“Enthralling. A Fierce Radiance shines with interesting detail.... Belfer’s robust portrayal of ways everyone is replaced in pursuit of a miracle makes this ebook a particularly compelling read.” — Nancy Horan, writer of Loving Frank
Set through the doubtful early days of global conflict II, this suspenseful tale from the New York Times bestselling writer of City of Light follows the paintings of photojournalist Claire Shipley as she captures America’s race to strengthen life-saving antibiotics—an project that might contain blackmail, espionage, and homicide.
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They play at the Racquet and Tennis Club. Well, that’s the only place you can play court tennis. In Manhattan, I mean. When we’re in Tuxedo, they play at the club there. Anyway, it was just a slip. He stumbled when his shoes stuck to the floor. ” Claire nodded, although she didn’t know, had never played court tennis or squash, had never been to the Racquet and Tennis Club on Park Avenue, or visited the protected enclave of Tuxedo Park northwest of the city. She felt an unexpected tinge of class resentment.
Tia is my sister. She’s younger and much more brilliant than I am,” James Stanton said. “She’s willing to work here at the Institute even though she has to put up with me. ” Claire was an only child and thus not an expert in siblings, but she thought Tia looked at her brother with an unusual degree of trust and affection. Glancing between them, Claire saw that the two shared a familial link in their eyes and their coloring. Despite its appeal, Stanton resisted the urge to continue this conversation.
The “mama” Charlie called for was her. She heard footsteps in the hallway. A voice hushed Charlie. Comforted him. Took him from his crib. Claire’s own mother, here to care for them. Ever so softly, with a lifetime’s worth of gentleness, Claire pressed Emily’s eyelids shut. She kept her hand in place for long minutes. Beneath her fingers, she felt Emily’s brow, the tickle of her eyelashes, the tender perfection of her eyelids, the softness of her eyebrows. Emily’s eyebrows were darker than her hair, and Claire’s mother had predicted that Emily’s hair would turn dark as she grew older.