Under the roof of a downtown Manhattan warehouse building, Hannah Burden, an orphaned cowgirl heiress, has transformed her loft into a slice of the Nebraska heartland (complete with live cattle). In the lush jungles of Nicaragua, a 465-year-old elder purported to be the conquistador Cristóbal de Olid is kidnapped. From central Italy, Olid’s abductor, the hapless anarchist Matteo Lupi (who sees the whole world as a spaghetti western), sets out with his charge through New York City and on toward the Hudson Valley, where Owen Berkeley, collector and gerontologist, has sacrificed family and fortune to the pipe dream of immortality. Orchestrating and choreographing the wild and epic journey that ties these people together is an ironic, enigmatic con artist named Krieger—“a modern archetype,” as William S. Burroughs, one of the earliest fans of this dynamic debut novel, describes him—who represents the best and very worst of the American dream.
Come Sunday unravels the events of three days in November while whisking us across decades, even centuries, and half the globe — in search of love, eternal life, and that elusive, sometimes illusive, collective known as family.