Cover

ALSO BY SEAN DESMOND

Adams Fall

Dedication

For my mother and father

September 18, 1987

[ SEPTEMBER 18, 1987 ]

“Odysseus is a man who is never at a loss. The gods strip him like bark, separate him from his men, exile him from his family. Yet he persists—travels to hell and back, always with a plan, without doubt, never baffled. He is ever at the ready despite his many trials.”

Mr. Oglesby looked over the class of sophomores, steadying himself in a lean against Teddy Boudreaux’s desk. The next quiver of questions was a deliberate digression from the lesson plan, and he shot them out rapid fire.

“So why does Homer ascribe contradictions to his hero? How can he never be at fault yet decide that taunting a Cyclops is a good idea? Why would someone smart enough to win the Trojan War be so stupid as to anger the gods?”

Oglesby returned to the blackboard, raising one of his many teaching sticks—this one named Keisaku—and pointed to the words he had written earlier: The myth of the hero.

“Mr. Humphrey, what kind of a hero is Odysseus?”

“Mythic?”

Oglesby shook his head and stared out the window at the faded green of the courtyard. “Don’t regurgitate, Mr. Humphrey. Mr. Atherton?”

“Uh . . . he’s a classic hero.”

“Next you’ll tell me he’s Greek.”

A discomforting five seconds passed as Oglesby stalked the center aisle of the classroom, punching Keisaku at the carpet like he was on a mountain trail.

“Gentlemen, stop guessing and start thinking. Can someone actually prove to me that they’ve read this book and not Dr. Cliff’s summary of the plot?”

Oglesby exhaled through his nose, his disappointment as subtle as a vaudeville act. He lowered his head and considered what remedial assignment he would have to resort to. A hand went up from the front row.

“Yes, Mr. Gilchrist.”

“He’s a hero because his greatness can contain contradictions.”

“Yes, and . . . ?”

“And he is searching for something he probably won’t find.”

“What do you mean?”

“The hero has a quest.”

“Thank you.” A wave of relief passed across the teacher’s face, and he started a peripatetic shuffle up and down the center aisle. “Gentlemen, Mr. Gilchrist is correct. The hero is defined by his journey. A hero isn’t perfect. Every man has flaws that he must confront and overcome. That is the internal quest of the hero. And the eternal quest of literature.”

Daniel Malone frowned. He knew that answer and should have raised his hand.