Concha Cardeñoso Sáenz de Miera Ordre des livres

Hidden between distant cliffs, in some remote place visited by wolf hunters, bandits, ambushers, Carlists, sorceresses, maquis, rally drivers, ghosts, beasts and demons, the Clavell farmhouse clings to the earth like a tick. It is a house inhabited by women, and where a single day contains centuries of memories. Those of Joana, who made a pact to find a husband that inaugurated an apparently cursed progeny. Those of Bernadeta, whose eyelashes are missing, and who ended up seeing what she shouldn't. Those of Margarida, who instead of a whole heart has one of three quarters. Or those of Blanca, who was born without a tongue, and she doesn't speak, she just watches. These women, and more, are preparing a party today.

"Someone jolted my elbow as I drank and said, 'Je vous demande pardon, ' and as I moved to give him space he turned and stared at me and I at him, and I realized, with a strange sense of shock and fear and nausea all combined, that his face and voice were known to me too well. I was looking at myself." Two men--one English, the other French--meet by chance in a provincial railway station and are astounded that they are so much alike that they could easily pass for each other. Over the course of a long evening, they talk and drink. It is not until he awakes the next day that John, the Englishman, realizes that he may have spoken too much. His French companion is gone, having stolen his identity. For his part, John has no choice but to take the Frenchman's place--as master of a chateau, director of a failing business, head of a large and embittered family, and keeper of too many secrets. Loaded with suspense and crackling wit, The Scapegoat tells the double story of the attempts by John, the imposter, to escape detection by the family, servants, and several mistresses of his alter ego, and of his constant and frustrating efforts to unravel the mystery of the enigmatic past that dominates the existence of all who live in the chateau. Hailed by the New York Times as a masterpiece of "artfully compulsive storytelling," The Scapegoat brings us Daphne du Maurier at the very top of her form.