The End of the Rainy Season: Discovering My Family's Hidden Past in Brazil

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About The End Of The Rainy Season: Discovering My

Product Description Marian Lindberg grew up being told that Walter Lindberg, the man who raised her father, was a brave explorer who had been murdered in the Amazon. She took her father’s claims at face value, basking in her exotic roots, until she started to notice things. The unverified legend became a riddle she couldn’t solve. As Lindberg moved from journalism to law, fell in love, and sought a family of her own, her father repeatedly interfered. He had a closed vision of his family, and she—unlike the silent Walter—was breaking out. Yet her father’s story of the past haunted Lindberg. Long after her father’s death, Lindberg set off for the Amazon, determined to find out the truth about Walter. Aided by generous Brazilians who adopted her search as if it were their own, she discovered as much about herself and her family as about Walter, whose true role in Brazil’s history turned out to be unexpected and deeply troubling. Sharply observant, wrought with honesty, and sweeping in its ambitions, The End of the Rainy Season is a powerful examination of identity and human relationships with nature, and between one another. Review "A beautifully written, moving, and distinct work."—Library Journal "This intriguing journey of self-discovery reads as an exotic travel memoir as well."—Booklist "This ruminative family mystery brims with incident, from tropical trail-tracing to personal health crises, and, ultimately, both some disturbing revelations and a hard-won peace of mind."—Elle About the Author A lawyer and photographer as well as a writer, Marian E. Lindberg works in New York as Senior Staff Writer for The Nature Conservancy, an international environmental organization with programs throughout the United States and in over thirty countries, including Brazil, where much of The End of the Rainy Season takes place. Lindberg has lived in eastern Long Island with her son since 2005. She enjoys music and outdoor activities and has traveled extensively. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 3 - AMAZON JUNGLE, AMAZON GRAVE I had never thought our last name strange until a few elementary school classmates came to my birthday party and chased me from the yew hedge to the back-door steps shouting “limburger cheese, limburger cheese.” That’s what I was named after, they claimed, a really smelly cheese. “Am not,” I retorted, before seeking protection inside the house. In truth, I didn’t know where our name came from. Other than Mommy and Daddy, I had never met another Lindberg. I stood inside the door leading from the garage to the kitchen, listening for the sound of Daddy’s car pulling in from the train station. I often did that as a girl, waiting for the life Daddy brought into our quiet house—at 6’3” a lot of life. He set his briefcase down and hugged me, and I told him what the mean girls had said. After dinner, in the safety of our wood-paneled den, he assured me that we weren’t named after an odiferous dairy product. Quite to the contrary, the name “Lindberg” came directly from a hero. I listened rapt in my PJs that first evening Daddy deemed me old enough to hear about Walter Lindberg’s tragic death. Daddy took his usual position in the big chair next to the bar. I sat across from him on the maroon sofa. Mommy had her own chair, an upholstered rocker where she read at least two newspapers every evening, but her chair was empty the first time Daddy told me about Walter Lindberg. In classic early 1960s middle-class fashion, Mommy remained in the kitchen washing the dishes, a long process for her on account of the high standards of cleanliness set by the servants in the homes of her pre-marriage years. I knew virtually nothing about Mommy’s wealthy background as I sat in the den with Daddy. I knew only that it was more fun to be with him than helping Mommy clean up. Daddy explained in his clear voice, commanding enough to run meetings at the Manhattan bank where he worked, though softened in my