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“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
Acquisto del libro
The Bellmaker's House, Theodore Pitsios
- Lingua
- Pubblicato
- 2007
- Rilegatura
- (Copertina rigida)
Metodi di pagamento
Qui potrebbe esserci la tua recensione.
- Titolo
- The Bellmaker's House
- Lingua
- Inglese
- Autori
- Theodore Pitsios
- Editore
- Attica Editions
- Pubblicato
- 2007
- Formato
- Copertina rigida
- Pagine
- 256
- ISBN10
- 1932455140
- ISBN13
- 9781932455144
- Serie
- Categoria
- Tag
- Tema stórico, Natura, Avventura, Famiglia, Amicizia
- Valutazione
- 4 su 5
- Descrizione
- “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