The Shadow of the Wind
(Sprache: Englisch)
"Anyone who enjoys novels that are scary, erotic, touching, tragic and thrilling should rush right out to the nearest bookstore and pick up The Shadow of the Wind...
Leider schon ausverkauft
versandkostenfrei
Buch (Gebunden)
Fr. 52.90
inkl. MwSt.
- Kreditkarte, Paypal, Rechnungskauf
- 30 Tage Widerrufsrecht
Produktdetails
Produktinformationen zu „The Shadow of the Wind “
Klappentext zu „The Shadow of the Wind “
"Anyone who enjoys novels that are scary, erotic, touching, tragic and thrilling should rush right out to the nearest bookstore and pick up The Shadow of the Wind. Really, you should." Michael Dirda, The Washington PostWondrous...masterful...The Shadow of the Wind is ultimately a love letter to literature, intended for readers as passionate about storytelling as its young hero. Entertainment Weekly, Editor's Choice
This is one gorgeous read. Stephen King
"I still remember the day my father took me to the Cemetary of Forgotten Books for the first time..."
Barcelona, 1945: A city slowly heals in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, and Daniel, an antiquarian book dealer s son who mourns the loss of his mother, finds solace in a mysterious book entitled The Shadow of the Wind, by one Julián Carax. But when he sets out to find the author s other works, he makes a shocking discovery: someone has been systematically destroying every copy of every book Carax has written. In fact, Daniel may have the last of Carax s books in existence. Soon Daniel s seemingly innocent quest opens a door into one of Barcelona s darkest secrets an epic story of murder, madness, and doomed love.
Lese-Probe zu „The Shadow of the Wind “
1. A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept. My first thought on waking was to tell my best friend about the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. Tomsss Aguilar was a classmate who devoted his free time and his talent to the invention of wonderfully ingenious contraptions of dubious practicality, like the aerostatic dart or the dynamo spinning top. I pictured us both, equipped with flashlights and compasses, uncovering the mysteries of those bibliographic catacombs. Who better than Tomsss to share my secret? Then, remembering my promise, I decided that circumstances advised me to adopt what in detective novels is termed a different modus operandi. At noon I approached my father to quiz him about the book and about Julissn Carax-both world famous, I assumed. My plan was to get my hands on his complete works and read them all by the end of the week. To my surprise, I discovered that my father, a natural-born librarian and a walking lexicon of publishers' catalogs and oddities, had never heard of The Shadow of the Wind or Julissn Carax. Intrigued, he examined the printing history on the back of the title page for clues.
"It says here that this copy is part of an edition of twenty-five hundred printed in Barcelona by Cabestany Editores, in June 1936."
"Do you know the publishing house?"
"It closed down years ago. But, wait, this is not the original. The first edition came out in November 1935 but was printed in Paris....Published by Galiano & Neuval. Doesn't ring a bell."
"So is this a translation?"
"It doesn't say so. From what I can see, the text must be the original one."
"A book in Spanish, first published in France?"
"It's not that unusual, not in times like these," my father put in. "Perhaps Barcel= can help us...."
... mehr
Gustavo Barcel= was an old colleague of my father's who now owned a cavernous establishment on Calle Fernando with a commanding position in the city's secondhand-book trade. Perpetually affixed to his mouth was an unlit pipe that impregnated his person with the aroma of a Persian market. He liked to describe himself as the last romantic, and he was not above claiming that a remote line in his ancestry led directly to Lord Byron himself. As if to prove this connection, Barcel= fashioned his wardrobe in the style of a nineteenth-century dandy. His casual attire consisted of a cravat, white patent leather shoes, and a plain glass monocle that, according to malicious gossip, he did not remove even in the intimacy of the lavatory. Flights of fancy aside, the most significant relative in his lineage was his begetter, an industrialist who had become fabulously wealthy by questionable means at the end of the nineteenth century. According to my father, Gustavo Barcel= was, technically speaking, loaded, and his palatial bookshop was more of a passion than a business. He loved books unreservedly, and-although he denied this categorically-if someone stepped into his bookshop and fell in love with a tome he could not afford, Barcel= would lower its price, or even give it away, if he felt that the buyer was a serious reader and not an accidental browser. Barcel= also boasted an elephantine memory allied to a pedantry that matched his demeanor and the sonority of his voice. If anyone knew about odd books, it was he. That afternoon, after closing the shop, my father suggested that we stroll along to the Els Quatre Gats, a cafT on Calle Montsi=, where Barcel= and his bibliophile knights of the round table gathered to discuss the finer points of decadent poets, dead languages, and neglected, moth-ridden masterpieces.
Els Quatre Gats was just a five-minute walk from our house and one of my favorite haunts. My parents had met there in 1932, and I attributed my one-way ticket into this world in part to the old cafT's charms. Stone dragons guarded a lamplit fatade anchored in shadows. Inside, voices seemed shaded by the echoes of other times. Accounta
Gustavo Barcel= was an old colleague of my father's who now owned a cavernous establishment on Calle Fernando with a commanding position in the city's secondhand-book trade. Perpetually affixed to his mouth was an unlit pipe that impregnated his person with the aroma of a Persian market. He liked to describe himself as the last romantic, and he was not above claiming that a remote line in his ancestry led directly to Lord Byron himself. As if to prove this connection, Barcel= fashioned his wardrobe in the style of a nineteenth-century dandy. His casual attire consisted of a cravat, white patent leather shoes, and a plain glass monocle that, according to malicious gossip, he did not remove even in the intimacy of the lavatory. Flights of fancy aside, the most significant relative in his lineage was his begetter, an industrialist who had become fabulously wealthy by questionable means at the end of the nineteenth century. According to my father, Gustavo Barcel= was, technically speaking, loaded, and his palatial bookshop was more of a passion than a business. He loved books unreservedly, and-although he denied this categorically-if someone stepped into his bookshop and fell in love with a tome he could not afford, Barcel= would lower its price, or even give it away, if he felt that the buyer was a serious reader and not an accidental browser. Barcel= also boasted an elephantine memory allied to a pedantry that matched his demeanor and the sonority of his voice. If anyone knew about odd books, it was he. That afternoon, after closing the shop, my father suggested that we stroll along to the Els Quatre Gats, a cafT on Calle Montsi=, where Barcel= and his bibliophile knights of the round table gathered to discuss the finer points of decadent poets, dead languages, and neglected, moth-ridden masterpieces.
Els Quatre Gats was just a five-minute walk from our house and one of my favorite haunts. My parents had met there in 1932, and I attributed my one-way ticket into this world in part to the old cafT's charms. Stone dragons guarded a lamplit fatade anchored in shadows. Inside, voices seemed shaded by the echoes of other times. Accounta
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Carlos Ruiz Zafón
Carlos Ruiz Zafón was one of the world s most read and best-loved writers. His work has been translated into more than forty languages and published around the world, garnering numerous international prizes and reaching millions of readers. He was the author of The Shadow of the Wind, The Angel's Game, The Prince of Mist, The Midnight Palace, The Prisoner of Heaven, and, most recently, The City of Mist, published posthumously. He died in 2020. Lucia Graves is the author and translator of many works and has overseen Spanish-language editions of the poetry of her father, Robert Graves.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Carlos Ruiz Zafón
- 2014, 528 Seiten, Masse: 14,3 x 19,8 cm, Gebunden, Englisch
- Übersetzer: Lucia Graves
- Verlag: Penguin US
- ISBN-10: 0143126393
- ISBN-13: 9780143126393
- Erscheinungsdatum: 07.10.2014
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
"If you thought the true gothic novel died with the nineteenth century, this will change your mind...This is one gorgeous read." Stephen KingGabriel Garcia Marquez meets Umberto Eco meets Jorge Luis Borges for a sprawling magic show....We are taken on a wild ride that executes its hairpin bends with breathtaking lurches. The New York Times Book Review
"Once again I have encountered a book that proves how wonderful it is to become immersed in a rich, long novel...This novel has it all: seduction, danger, revenge, and a mystery that the author teases with mastery. Zafon has outdone even the mighty Charles Dickens." The Philadelphia Inquirer
Anyone who enjoys novels that are scary, erotic, touching, tragic and thrilling should rush right out to the nearest bookstore and pick up The Shadow of the Wind. Really, you should. Michael Dirda, The Washington Post
Wonderous . . . masterful . . . The Shadow of the Wind is ultimately a love letter to literature, intended for readers as passionate about storytelling as its young hero. Entertainment Weekly, Editor's Choice
Kommentar zu "The Shadow of the Wind"
0 Gebrauchte Artikel zu „The Shadow of the Wind“
Zustand | Preis | Porto | Zahlung | Verkäufer | Rating |
---|
Schreiben Sie einen Kommentar zu "The Shadow of the Wind".
Kommentar verfassen