By Lynn C. Miller
In loss of life of a division Chair, protagonist Miriam Held recounts the occasions of the former fall whilst she was once suspected of killing Isabel Vittorio, the chair of her division and her former lover. The debatable and opposite Vittorio used to be, on the time of her loss of life, trying to block the rent of a super African American lady professor. Already less than siege for her makes an attempt to extend variety on campus, Miriam is pressured to guard her recognition and her lifestyles. As she searches for the reality, Miriam amasses facts that leaves few acquaintances and co-workers unfastened from suspicion. either a vintage whodunit and a witty satire, dying of a division Chair dramatizes how groups can create the very weather of distrust and paranoia that victimizes them.
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Additional info for Death of a Department Chair: A Novel
Try to ask nicely. All the while tracing a line from her navel to her collarbone. Lovely. My head in one place. Body in another. H. surprised by my question. ” Her skin ﬂushes a pretty pink. ” Hmm. So she has a sentimental side. Don’t know what to say. ” Then sadness. Do I really seem so hard? Not always. Not with Mama. Back when we lived in Virginia. The old white house with woods all around. Her voice from the back porch: “Bella! Bellisima! Bellaluna—where are you? I’m coming to get you . ” & then she crouches & lunges & hunts for me all over the yard.
I didn’t know you were such a prude. Miss Prim, Mir-i-am,” she chanted and laughed. “I don’t think you’re a drunk,” Miriam said, exasperated. Although, the truth was, she disliked surly drinkers and this evening prompted the thought that Isabel appeared to be one of those. ” “To leave or not to leave. ” Isabel said almost dreamily, staring at the sky. Miriam had noticed that Isabel’s moods could change unpredictably, but she’d never seen her behave so erratically before. ” “Go ahead, leave,” Isabel said, as she sloshed more bourbon into her glass.
Miriam’s round face rotated from side to side slowly as she refused to accept Daphne’s consoling words. “It’s not that simple. I comforted myself . . ” And she explained about the beginning of her novel and her eagerness over writing it. ” Daphne sat back and shut her eyes. “This was poor timing, I suppose, in your eyes. ” A few moments passed. ” Miriam found herself jarred, as she always was, by Daphne’s gaze, one eye piercingly blue and the other a tawny cat’s eye. ” “I can’t think. I need help.