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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
Achat du livre
The Bellmaker's House, Theodore Pitsios
- Langue
- Année de publication
- 2007
- Reliure
- (rigide)
Modes de paiement
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- Titre
- The Bellmaker's House
- Langue
- Anglais
- Auteurs
- Theodore Pitsios
- Éditeur
- Attica Editions
- Publié
- 2007
- Format
- rigide
- Pages
- 256
- ISBN10
- 1932455140
- ISBN13
- 9781932455144
- Séries
- Catégories
- Mots clés
- Thème historique, La nature, Aventure, Famille, Amitié
- Évaluation
- 4 sur 5
- Description
- “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