Wish You Were Here Audiobook

Wish You Were Here Audiobook
special invitation from audible

Jodi Picoult Wish You Were Here Audiobook 🎧 

Diana O’Toole is on the right track. She’ll be married by thirty, finished having kids by thirty-five, and settled in the New York City suburbs, all while climbing the professional ladder in the cutthroat art auction world. She’s currently an associate specialist at Sotheby’s, but her boss has hinted at a promotion if she can close a deal with a high-profile client. She isn’t engaged yet, but she knows her boyfriend, Finn, a surgical resident, is about to propose on their romantic trip to the Galapagos Islands—just days before her thirtyth birthday. On time.

But then a virus from another world appears in the city, and on the eve of their departure, Finn breaks the news: it’s all hands on deck at the hospital. He has to remain at home. He assures her that she should still go because it would be a shame to waste their nonrefundable trip. So she goes, reluctantly.

Diana’s dream vacation quickly unravels. Her luggage is missing, the Wi-Fi is almost non-existent, and the hotel they’d reserved is closed due to the pandemic. In fact, the entire island is now quarantined, and she is stranded until the borders reopen. She must push herself beyond her comfort zone because she is completely isolated. Slowly, she forges a bond with a local family when a teenager with a secret confides in Diana, despite her father’s suspicion of outsiders.

Diana finds herself examining her relationships, her choices, and herself in the Galápagos Islands, where Darwin’s theory of evolution by natural selection was formed—and wondering if when she returns home, she, too, will have evolved into someone completely different.

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Jodi Picoult Bio

Jodi Picoult

Jodi Picoult was born on May 19, 1966, in Long Island, New York, where she resided for 13 years in the ‘The Storybook’ complex. She believes she became a writer as a result of a self-fulfilling prophecy. When she was five years old, she wrote her first narrative, ‘The Lobster Who Was Misunderstood.’ Picoult’s family relocated to New Hampshire when she was 13, where she still lives and where many of her books are set. She also read Gone with the Wind at the age of 13 and memorized full chapters. That’s when she realized she wanted to be a writer, so she could «create worlds out of words.»

Picoult attended Princeton University after graduating from high school and had two stories published in Seventeen magazine while still a student. She graduated in 1987 and worked in a variety of fields, including technical writing, copywriting, textbook editing, and eighth-grade English teaching, before opting to pursue a master’s degree in education at Harvard University.

Picoult went on to write five issues of Wonder Woman for DC Comics after graduating from Harvard. While pregnant with their first child, she married Timothy Warren van Leer and penned her first novel, Songs of the Humpback Whale. Samantha, Kyle, and Jake are her three children with her spouse.

Picoult is active with a number of charity organizations, including the Writer’s Council for the National Writing Project, Positive Tracks/Hospital Children’s at Dartmouth, and the New Hampshire Coalition Against the Death Penalty. She founded the Trumbull Hall Troupe, a young theater company.

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Wish You Were Audiobook Excerpt Transcript

I painted a corner of the sky when I was six years old. My father was working as a conservator one of a handful restoring the zodiac ceiling on the main hall of the grand central terminal, an aqua sky strung with shimmering constellations. It was late way past. My bedtime, my father took me to work because my mother, as usual, was not home. He helped me carefully climb the scaffolding where I watched him working on a cleaned patch of the turquoise paint.

I looked at the stars representing the smear of the milky way. The golden wings of pegasus Orion’s raised club, the twisted fish of Pisces, the original mural, had been painted. In 1913, my father told me: roof leaks, damaged the plaster and in 1944 it had been replicated on panels that were attached to the arched ceiling. The original plan had been to remove the boards for restoration, but they contained asbestos, and so the conservators left them in place and went to work with cotton, swabs, and cleaning solution erasing decades of pollutants. They uncovered historical signatures and inside jokes and notes left behind by the original artists were revealed.

Tucked in among the constellations there were dates commemorating weddings and the end of world war ii. There were names of soldiers. The birth of twins was recorded near Gemini. An error had been made by the original artists so that the painted zodiac was reversed from the way it would appear in the night sky. Instead of correcting it, though, my father was diligently reinforcing the error that night, he was working on a small square of space.

Gilding stars he had already painted over the tiny, yellow dots with adhesive. He covered these with a piece of gold leaf light as breath. Then he turned to me, Diana. He said holding out his hand, and I climbed up in front of him caged by the safety of his body. He handed me a brush to sweep over the foil fixing it in place.

He showed me how to gently rub at it with my thumb so that the galaxy he’d created was all that remained when all the work was finished. The conservators kept a small dark spot in the northwest corner of the grand central terminal where the pale blue ceiling meets the marble wall. This 9×5-inch section was left that way intentionally. My father told me that conservators do that. In case historians need to study the original composition.

The only way you can tell how far you’ve come is to know where you started every time, I’m in grand central terminal, I think about my father of how we left that night hand in hand our palms glittering like we had stolen the stars. It is Friday, the 13th, so I should know better getting from Sotheby’s on the upper east side to the Ansonia on the upper west side means taking the q train to times square and then the one up town. So I have to travel in the wrong direction before I start going in the right one. I hate going backward normally, I would walk across the central park, but I am wearing a new pair of shoes that are rubbing a blister on my heel shoes. I never would have worn it if I’d known that I was going to be summoned by kitomi it, so instead, I find myself on public transit but something’s off, and it takes me a moment to figure out what it’s quiet.

Usually, I have to fight my way through tourists who are listening to someone singing for coins or a violin quartet. Today, though, the platform is empty. Last night, Broadway theaters had shut down performances for a month after an usher tested positive for covid out of an abundance of caution. That’s what Finn said anyway. New york presbyterian, where he is a resident, has not seen the influx of coronavirus cases that are appearing in Washington, state and Italy, and France.

There were only 19 cases in the city. Finn told me last night, as we watched the news when I wondered out loud. If we should start panicking yet wash our hands and don’t touch our faces, he told me it’s going to be fine.

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