By Ernest J. Gaines
An affectionate and shaggy dog story set within the “black quarter" of a Southern sugar cane plantation within the Nineteen Forties and advised through a toddler named Eddie, who watches his mom depart his father over his preoccupation together with his vehicle, which his father finally burns to the floor at the suggestion of a voodoo girl to get his spouse again.
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Additional resources for A Long Day in November
I ask Uncle Al. “In the kitchen,” Gran’mon says. ” I go back to the kitchen. “Come back here,” Gran’mon says. “I want see my mama,” I say. “You’ll see her when she come out,” Gran’mon says. “I want see my mama now,” I say. ” Gran’mon hollers. ” Mama asks. Mama comes out of the kitchen and Mr. Freddie Jackson comes out of there, too. I hate Mr. Freddie Jackson. I never did like him. He always want to be round my mama. “That boy don’t listen to nobody,” Gran’mon says. “Hi, Sonny,” Mr. Freddie Jackson says.
Daddy looks toward the house. “This the last straw,” he says. “I’m turning your Gran’mon in this minute. And you go’n be my witness. ” I ask. “To that preacher’s house,” Daddy says. ” Daddy grabs my hand and me and him go up the quarter. I can see all the children going back to school. “Step it up, Sonny,” Daddy says. “I’m coming fast as I can,” I say. “I’ll see about that,” Daddy says. ” When me and Daddy get to Reverend Simmons’s house, we go up on the gallery and Daddy knocks on the door. Mrs.
I seen him this morning when me and Mama was going down to Gran’mon’s house. I ain’t go’n eat dinner at us house because me and Mama don’t stay there no more. I’m go’n eat at Gran’mon’s house. I don’t know where Daddy go’n eat dinner. He must be go’n cook his own dinner. I can hear Bill and Juanita back of me. They whispering to each other, but I can hear them. Juanita’s some pretty. I wish I was big so I could love her. But I better look at my lesson and don’t think about other things. “First grade,” Miss Hebert says.
A Long Day in November by Ernest J. Gaines