Więcej o książce
“Years ago, by sheer luck, I attended a reading by Mr. Pitsios in Mobile, Alabama. It was delightful, funny and wise and strange in the best way, and so I wasn’t surprised when I heard about his first novel. And I’m glad to be among the first to report that this luminous tale surpasses my hopes. I congratulate him. And you, the reader, on the journey you are about to undertake.” — Tom Franklin, author of Poachers, Hell at the Breech & Smonk […The sun was sinking behind the village of Xourihti; the last rays brightened the golden leaves of the chestnut tree-tops and brushed orange patches on the light blue sea. A sailboat was passing in the distance, cutting a path through an orange patch. A soft old song was coming from a distant radio. A group of children were playing war on top of the ruins of the Venetian castle. The bell of Agios Taxiarhis started to toll, announcing it was time for vespers; its heavy sound rolled down the mountainside and spread out to sea. Everything
Zakup książki
The Bellmaker's House, Theodore Pitsios
- Język
- Rok wydania
- 2007
- Oprawa
- (twarda)
Metody płatności
Brakuje nam tutaj Twojej recenzji.
- Tytuł
- The Bellmaker's House
- Język
- angielski
- Autorzy
- Theodore Pitsios
- Wydawca
- Attica Editions
- Rok wydania
- 2007
- Oprawa
- twarda
- Liczba stron
- 256
- ISBN10
- 1932455140
- ISBN13
- 9781932455144
- Seria
- Kategorie
- Ocena
- 4 z 5
- Opis
- “Years ago, by sheer luck, I attended a reading by Mr. Pitsios in Mobile, Alabama. It was delightful, funny and wise and strange in the best way, and so I wasn’t surprised when I heard about his first novel. And I’m glad to be among the first to report that this luminous tale surpasses my hopes. I congratulate him. And you, the reader, on the journey you are about to undertake.” — Tom Franklin, author of Poachers, Hell at the Breech & Smonk […The sun was sinking behind the village of Xourihti; the last rays brightened the golden leaves of the chestnut tree-tops and brushed orange patches on the light blue sea. A sailboat was passing in the distance, cutting a path through an orange patch. A soft old song was coming from a distant radio. A group of children were playing war on top of the ruins of the Venetian castle. The bell of Agios Taxiarhis started to toll, announcing it was time for vespers; its heavy sound rolled down the mountainside and spread out to sea. Everything
