SOMe Starry Night
Under the pale glow of a Parisian spring in 1886, two restless souls move toward the same horizon-unaware that their meeting will ignite a love as luminous and fleeting as the stars themselves.
Vincent van Gogh arrives in Paris with little more than paint-stained hands and an aching determination to create something worthy of the world. Living in the cramped apartment of his brother Theo, he struggles against poverty, doubt, and the relentless pull of his own restless mind.
Across the ocean in Amherst, Emily Dickinson receives news that changes everything. Faced with the nearness of death, the reclusive poet does the unthinkable: she leaves the quiet safety of the Homestead and sails for Paris, determined to taste life before it slips beyond her reach.
When Emily agrees to sit for Vincent's portrait, their worlds collide in a blaze of color, poetry, and dangerous intimacy. Through letters, poems, and whispered confessions, the two artists discover in one another a fierce, unguarded understanding-one that will shape their art, their faith, and the fragile hours they have left.
But love between stars is never simple. As time grows short and darkness gathers, Vincent and Emily must decide whether beauty is meant to last...or simply to burn bright enough to change the night forever.
Some Starry Night is a sweeping, lyrical imagining of the hidden story behind Vincent van Gogh's most iconic painting – an unforgettable tale of love, creativity, and the courage to live fiercely, even in the shadow of the end.
Excerpt
[when Emily first sees Vincent at the Louvre]
When she next looked up from her work, a group of three men caught her eye. She could only hear bits of their conversation, but their gestures indicated an intense discussion. One man in particular aroused her curiosity. He wasn’t tall, but he was stocky and solid. Red-haired with a smattering of freckles. He radiated passion and intensity, like a bullfighter ready to dance. His French wasn’t exactly French—he had an accent Emily couldn’t recognize. He brought his face so close to the paintings that the guard warned him back not once, but three times! On the third time, he threw up his arms. “I know what I want to do. I know what I must do.” He tipped his hat.
“Thank you, Bernard, Henri. I shall go home now and paint.”
Emily watched as the man strode toward the exit, his steps fast and sure. A painter with purpose. The other two men—Bernard and Henri—leaned into one another once their friend was gone. Their heads bobbed together as they whispered to one another, their brows no longer tense and furrowed. They were relieved their friend was gone.
Emily sighed. She suspected that’s the way some people felt about her. Thomas had said in a letter how much she overwhelmed and exhausted him. Well, those weren’t his exact words, but Emily was pretty sure that’s what he meant.
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Irene Latham
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