The Dying Game
A Novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
A masterly locked-room mystery set in a near-future Orwellian state-for fans of Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale, Dave Eggers' The Circle, and Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games
Do you live to play? Or play to live?
The year...
Do you live to play? Or play to live?
The year...
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A masterly locked-room mystery set in a near-future Orwellian state-for fans of Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale, Dave Eggers' The Circle, and Suzanne Collins' The Hunger GamesDo you live to play? Or play to live?
The year is 2037. The Soviet Union never fell, and much of Europe has been consolidated under the totalitarian Union of Friendship. On the tiny island of Isola, seven people have been selected to compete in a forty-eight-hour test for a top-secret intelligence position. One of them is Anna Francis, a workaholic bureaucrat with a nine-year-old daughter she rarely sees and a secret that haunts her. Her assignment: to stage her own death and then to observe, from her hiding place inside the walls of the house, how the six other candidates react to the news that a murderer is among them. Who will take control? Who will crack under pressure? But then a storm rolls in, the power goes out, and the real game begins. . . .
Combining suspense, unexpected twists, psychological gamesmanship, and a sinister dystopian future, The Dying Game conjures a world in which one woman is forced to ask, "Can I save my life by staging my death?"
Lese-Probe zu „The Dying Game “
Copyright ©2017 Asa Avdic A first step toward the Union of Friendship was taken following the Wall Coup in 1989 and the unrest that ensued. Sweden and Finland have been under a state of martial law and the alliance of defense since 1992. Norway followed later on. On February 17, 1995, the parliament of the Protectorate of Sweden declared itself a full member of the Union of Friendship. The Western bloc does not accept this declaration and many UN countries still consider the Protectorate of Sweden an independent country. The Protectorate of Sweden has de facto and de jure control over its entire territory, but it is simultaneously subject to the common laws of the Union of Friendship, which preempt local statutes.[9] The International Court of Justice in The Hague does not regard the country's incorporation into the Union of Friendship to be a violation of international law.[10][11][12][13]
The Protectorate of Sweden is no longer a member of the UN and left the former European Communities before its dissolution.[14]
The Protectorate of Sweden is bordered to the east by the Protectorate of Finland under the Union of Friendship, to the west by the Protectorate of Norway, and to the southwest by Denmark, where the border has been closed since 1992. The capital city of the Protectorate of Sweden is Stockholm.
International Encyclopedia, 2016
Stockholm
The Protectorate of Sweden
March 2037
Anna
One afternoon, the unit secretary came into my office.
"He wants to see you on the fourteenth floor of the Secretariat Building."
"Who does?"
"He wants to see you!"
The unit secretary looked extremely excited. Her thick glasses bobbed on the tip of her nose and she frantically shoved them back up, at which point they immediately slid down again. I could understand why she was so worked up. It was rare for those in
... mehr
the Secretariat Building to take an interest in our activities, much less in one of us personally. When I returned home from Kyzyl Kum for good, the Chairman had sent a bouquet of flowers to the office, with my name spelled wrong on the card, so I assumed they didn't care. Apparently I was mistaken. This made me feel both flattered and anxious. "When?"
"This afternoon."
She looked at my wrinkled shirt for one second too long and appeared to be weighing something. "You have time to go home and change," she said, then turned on her heel and walked off so quickly that I didn't even have time to pretend I wasn't offended.
Three hours later, I was plodding through biting wind and freezing rain across the courtyard to the Secretariat Building. Great sheets of half-frozen sleet were blowing straight sideways and whipping at my face, only to suddenly change directions and attack from the other side. It was one of those March days where everything is gray and wet and cold and the light is never more than a hope. There had been many such days that winter. It was mentioned each day on the news that we had never had so few hours of sunlight as during the past year. Maybe it was emissions, maybe it was climate change, maybe it was both. Or something even worse, but of course they didn't say that on the news. That was the sort of thing people talked about only when they were sure that no one else was listening.
The building towered up ahead of me as I ascended the stairs, as if I were walking into the maw of a giant whale, and the wind nearly hurled me through the doors. Inside the foyer, I signed in at the reception desk, received a visitor badge, was passed through various security doors, handed over my coat and purse to the guard, and was shown to an elevator. The walls and ceiling of the elevator were covered in smoke-colored mirrors, which made me feel painfully self-conscious in my brand-new jacket and bland, old-lady booties from the off-the-rack clothing chain closest to my office. The jacket fit well, but it
"This afternoon."
She looked at my wrinkled shirt for one second too long and appeared to be weighing something. "You have time to go home and change," she said, then turned on her heel and walked off so quickly that I didn't even have time to pretend I wasn't offended.
Three hours later, I was plodding through biting wind and freezing rain across the courtyard to the Secretariat Building. Great sheets of half-frozen sleet were blowing straight sideways and whipping at my face, only to suddenly change directions and attack from the other side. It was one of those March days where everything is gray and wet and cold and the light is never more than a hope. There had been many such days that winter. It was mentioned each day on the news that we had never had so few hours of sunlight as during the past year. Maybe it was emissions, maybe it was climate change, maybe it was both. Or something even worse, but of course they didn't say that on the news. That was the sort of thing people talked about only when they were sure that no one else was listening.
The building towered up ahead of me as I ascended the stairs, as if I were walking into the maw of a giant whale, and the wind nearly hurled me through the doors. Inside the foyer, I signed in at the reception desk, received a visitor badge, was passed through various security doors, handed over my coat and purse to the guard, and was shown to an elevator. The walls and ceiling of the elevator were covered in smoke-colored mirrors, which made me feel painfully self-conscious in my brand-new jacket and bland, old-lady booties from the off-the-rack clothing chain closest to my office. The jacket fit well, but it
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Åsa Avdic
Asa Avdic is a journalist who for years was a presenter for Swedish Public Service Radio and Television and is currently a host of Sweden's biggest morning current events program. She lives with her family in Stockholm, Sweden. The Dying Game is her first novel.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Åsa Avdic
- 2017, 288 Seiten, Masse: 12,6 x 19,5 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: PENGUIN BOOKS
- ISBN-10: 0143131796
- ISBN-13: 9780143131793
- Erscheinungsdatum: 19.07.2017
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
"A deliciously creepy novel revolving around a terrific paradigm shift: The job you think you're doing? That's not the job you're really doing." -Chris Pavone, New York Times bestselling author of The Expats"Agatha Christie meets George Orwell in journalist Avdic's unsettling first novel. . . . Avdic not only constructs a fascinating and original plot but makes her imagined reality chillingly plausible." -Publishers Weekly, starred review
"A high-stakes test of survival and betrayal . . . Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None crossed-pollinated with 'The Most Dangerous Game' . . . An unsettling portrait of our possible future." -Kirkus Reviews
"An Orwellian debut novel that never lets up . . . A heady mix of And Then There Were None and The Hunger Games [and] a supremely competitive struggle for survival." -Booklist
"Intriguing . . . Reminiscent of classic 'locked room' mysteries by writers like Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers and P. D. James. But its near-future setting and Orwellian setup make it feel almost chillingly forward-looking as well." -Bookreporter
"With a scary dystopia core and a foreboding that lurks on every page, this is terrifying stuff." -Heat
"Resembling Agatha Christie at her zaniest, this fascinating, ever-changing scenario is deftly and grippingly handled." -The Sunday Times (London)
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