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| So Brad wrote this novel about this boy .... |
Photographs from Eaden: A
Montana Story
The novel chronicles the life of Marcus
Andrews, a boy who is seeking his slice of
personal glory in his small hometown of Eaden,
Montana. He is entering his senior year of high
school and has fallen short of the athletic fame
of which he has dreamed his entire life. His
struggles are compounded by the burden of his
father’s crippling obsessive behavior and the
sacrifices his mother has been forced to make
to support their family.
Montana Story
The novel chronicles the life of Marcus
Andrews, a boy who is seeking his slice of
personal glory in his small hometown of Eaden,
Montana. He is entering his senior year of high
school and has fallen short of the athletic fame
of which he has dreamed his entire life. His
struggles are compounded by the burden of his
father’s crippling obsessive behavior and the
sacrifices his mother has been forced to make
to support their family.
When Marcus’s history teacher assigns him and his fellow seniors an extremely
demanding Montana History writing project, Marcus’s intense desire to write the best
paper ever seen in Eaden leads him to George O’Sullivan, an old man known around
Eaden for his expert knowledge of local Native American history, rumors about his
sexuality, and his self-imposed isolation from the rest of the community. As Marcus’s
friendship with George grows throughout Marcus’s final year of high school, George
shares knowledge and secrets with Marcus that will change Marcus’s life and impact
his entire family.
Photographs from Eaden follows Marcus’s twelve-year journey from central Montana
to San Francisco. The story is one of seeking adventure, understanding what it
means to be a part of a closely knit community, and finding the value and strength of
family.
demanding Montana History writing project, Marcus’s intense desire to write the best
paper ever seen in Eaden leads him to George O’Sullivan, an old man known around
Eaden for his expert knowledge of local Native American history, rumors about his
sexuality, and his self-imposed isolation from the rest of the community. As Marcus’s
friendship with George grows throughout Marcus’s final year of high school, George
shares knowledge and secrets with Marcus that will change Marcus’s life and impact
his entire family.
Photographs from Eaden follows Marcus’s twelve-year journey from central Montana
to San Francisco. The story is one of seeking adventure, understanding what it
means to be a part of a closely knit community, and finding the value and strength of
family.
He found his own basketball under a pine tree near his hoop and shot baskets in solitude
under the faint glow of the street light in the yard. He tried to get the rhythm of his feet,
legs, arms, wrists, and fingers to fall into the perfect cadence so that a graceful and
accurate jump shot would result. With each miss, he took mental notes and fine-tuned
the offending instrument in his athletic percussion section. He did this over and over and
over and over, focusing on perfection with each movement of his body—each footstep,
each square-up to the basket, each leap, each grip, each release.
Well past midnight a chill came over him and he could go on no longer. The music of
his jump shots fell silent, and the voice it had been drowning out all night whispered in
his ear, Eric is dead. Marcus grabbed the basketball off of the concrete court and hurled it
against the thin metal wall of the equipment shed, creating a crash that sent small
animals scurrying in the darkness all around him. He watched as the ball rolled into the
shadows before he finally walked back to the house.
under the faint glow of the street light in the yard. He tried to get the rhythm of his feet,
legs, arms, wrists, and fingers to fall into the perfect cadence so that a graceful and
accurate jump shot would result. With each miss, he took mental notes and fine-tuned
the offending instrument in his athletic percussion section. He did this over and over and
over and over, focusing on perfection with each movement of his body—each footstep,
each square-up to the basket, each leap, each grip, each release.
Well past midnight a chill came over him and he could go on no longer. The music of
his jump shots fell silent, and the voice it had been drowning out all night whispered in
his ear, Eric is dead. Marcus grabbed the basketball off of the concrete court and hurled it
against the thin metal wall of the equipment shed, creating a crash that sent small
animals scurrying in the darkness all around him. He watched as the ball rolled into the
shadows before he finally walked back to the house.
Book Excerpt