I could see a slight shimmer in the air around Felurian, some shred of her power returning. I ignored it as I struggled frantically to keep some part of what I had learned. But it was like trying to hold a handful of sand. If you have ever dreamed of flying, then some awake, dismayed to realize you had lost the trick of it, you have some inkling how I felt.
The Wise Man’s Fear er bok nummer to i Patrick Rothfuss’ The Kingkiller Chronicle og ukens smakebit. Flere smakebiter finner du hos Mari. Ha en strålende lesesøndag!
Forfatter: Patrick Rothfuss
Forlag: Penguin Group
Kilde: Paperback, 662 sider, kjøpt
«I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep. My name is Kvothe. You may have heard of me.» (fra bokens bakside).
The Name of the Wind er første bok av The Kingkiller Chronicle. Hos meg falt den veldig, veldig godt i smak. Forfatteren bruker et vakkert språk, og selv om boken er en såkalt «murstein» er historien veldig fengende og det er vanskelig å la være å lese «bare et kapittel til». Bok nummer to er allerede på vei i posten til meg. Anbefales!
Patrick Rothfuss’ The Kingkiller Chronicle har jeg hørt mye bra om og hatt lyst å lese lenge. I forgårs kom den første boken, The Name of the Wind, i posten og jeg begynte selvsagt å lese med en gang.
It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was at hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamour one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music … but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.
Slik starter boken. Snakk om å sette stemningen da. Dette er en sånn som dro meg inn helt fra starten av, og det liker jeg 🙂
Husk i stikke innom Mari for flere smakebiter!