tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62382461720774566822024-03-13T01:21:24.732+01:00Libri qui, proprio quiUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-82526953183335790322016-11-07T10:49:00.001+01:002016-11-07T10:49:15.222+01:00SALINGER: 5 cose che non vorresti sapere<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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1. Fu scaricato da un'arrivista che appena compiuti 18 anni sposò Charlie Chaplin. <br />2. Finita la seconda guerra mondiale sposò una ragazza nazista che probabilmente avrebbe dovuto arrestare. <br />3. Era affascinato dalle adolescenti e...</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-28857764671096207342016-06-27T18:00:00.000+02:002016-06-27T18:00:04.226+02:00COME PARLARE SPORCO<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
L'ascesa al successo del comico Lenny Bruce viene continuamente
ostacolata dalle denunce per oscenità a causa del suo umorismo greve ed
il suo linguaggio volgare e provocatorio malcompreso dall'America
puritana a cavallo tra gli anni cinquanta e gli anni sessanta. Quella
che considera una persecuzione bigotta si ripercuote sulla sua vita
privata: i continui litigi con la moglie, spogliarellista in disarmo, i
tradimenti e le avventure senza sentimento, la vita sregolata e l'abuso
di alcool e droghe lo conducono a una morte tragica. ➢ Wikipedia<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-15747195681419777082016-06-24T14:00:00.000+02:002016-06-24T14:00:00.184+02:00IL CASO LETTERARIO ITALIANO<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Da Lorenza Ghinelli a Luca D'Andrea, passando per Leonardo Patrignani.<br />
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I libri presenti in questo video:<br />➢ La sostanza del male <a href="http://amzn.to/28UEOaP">http://amzn.to/28UEOaP</a><br />➢ Multiversum <a href="http://amzn.to/28UEVmI">http://amzn.to/28UEVmI</a><br />➢ Il divoratore <a href="http://amzn.to/28QN7Wm">http://amzn.to/28QN7Wm</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-39844515426619820252016-06-20T15:00:00.000+02:002016-06-20T15:00:06.376+02:00LO SCRITTORE (S)FUMATO<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Un libricino veloce e delle piccole considerazioni sull'editoria odierna.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-11205132965136817152016-06-14T15:00:00.000+02:002016-06-14T15:00:18.801+02:00INTERVISTA A JAMES DASHNER, L'AUTORE DI MAZE RUNNER<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Per un periodo della mia vita ho lavorato in un settimanale che in cambio di recensioni mi permetteva di andare alle anteprime cinematografiche e di ricevere a casa quasi qualsiasi libro volessi. Proprio in quegli anni intervistai James Dashner e il film Maze Runner era ancora un embrione.<br />
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Se volete leggere l'ìntervista, la trovate qui: <a href="http://libriqui.blogspot.it/2012/02/intervista-james-dashner.html">http://libriqui.blogspot.it/2012/02/intervista-james-dashner.html</a> <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-47746718524506223742016-06-13T15:38:00.000+02:002016-06-13T15:38:07.006+02:00COME LEGGERE UN ROMANZO<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Tra gli scaffali della biblioteca Pier Paolo Pasolini di Roma ho trovato “<a href="http://goo.gl/nyRlTX">Come leggere un libro</a>“,
un testo che cercavo anche per migliorare come autore. I suggerimenti
per me più interessanti (quelli che riguardavano la narrativa, i
racconti lunghi e così via) li ho riassunti nel seguente video.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-28599508316065283762016-06-12T15:35:00.002+02:002016-06-12T23:42:44.732+02:00Da autore a booktuber!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Citando un passaggio del filmato sottostante: “L’idea è quella di
registrare almeno un video a settimana dove commenterò spezzoni di
romanzi, saggi o sceneggiature. E vorrei sottolinearvi <i>spezzoni</i>
perché non amo quel tipo di critica che loda o distrugge un intero
libro in 100 parole. Preferisco quella costruttiva, specifica, che va a
marcare determinate pagine o addirittura singole righe.”<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-7923555846988806472015-01-25T17:19:00.001+01:002015-01-25T17:19:26.443+01:00Book contains vitamin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc31Eso9mRfWeXJQgWDsAVyl898_azRKW6FC6LQGoy7tmNz941YeaXM98uW6XvUauteWEfqt6Ur037rS13uTZfKYyVWhG-bs8jtq-cDefDn2r2m-hyLsyGwFtBPGTkxeHVUNOoThCuSv4/s1600/book+contains+vitamin+a+b+c+d+z+reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc31Eso9mRfWeXJQgWDsAVyl898_azRKW6FC6LQGoy7tmNz941YeaXM98uW6XvUauteWEfqt6Ur037rS13uTZfKYyVWhG-bs8jtq-cDefDn2r2m-hyLsyGwFtBPGTkxeHVUNOoThCuSv4/s1600/book+contains+vitamin+a+b+c+d+z+reading.jpg" height="640" width="497" /></a></div>
Questo poster è in vendita su <a href="http://society6.com/product/read-l9o_print#1=45">http://society6.com/product/read-l9o_print#1=45</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-58457000657744078512014-06-08T13:01:00.000+02:002014-06-08T13:12:39.327+02:00Conversando con Emanuela Valentini, l'autrice di Red Psychedelia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Emanuela Valentini, perlomeno qui sul web, non necessita di presentazioni: i suoi libri sono stati scaricati oltre 200.000 volte, etc, etc. Ma il bello deve ancora arrivare, perché con il talento che si ritrova ogni cima è raggiungibile.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjAHUhSQWqvUlzRqARyXrnP5BI4L4EGgSFp1S-GJNAb_E7XS4gn-X1JXca_de66Hbk2g0Lx6KtAb47dhNU0NFYVpIO-ILzGxiioTISG8HFpd7Sk1u_S1MCUxBimyfPA3t2FYl5_dzNmY/s1600/Red+Psychedelia+1+-+Emanuela+Valentini+-+Delos+-+Cappuccetto+Rosso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjAHUhSQWqvUlzRqARyXrnP5BI4L4EGgSFp1S-GJNAb_E7XS4gn-X1JXca_de66Hbk2g0Lx6KtAb47dhNU0NFYVpIO-ILzGxiioTISG8HFpd7Sk1u_S1MCUxBimyfPA3t2FYl5_dzNmY/s1600/Red+Psychedelia+1+-+Emanuela+Valentini+-+Delos+-+Cappuccetto+Rosso.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<b>- Come è nata l'idea di <i>Red Psychedelia</i>?</b><br />
- <i>Red</i> nasce dalla volontà di scrivere un urban fantasy spaziale per una raccolta. Poi, come appare evidente, non solo è uscito il mio animo punk, ma ho pure sforato di brutto con le battute e così...<br />
<b>- Sfori spesso con le battute... intendo col numero di battute. L'associazione a Cappuccetto Rosso è stata immediata o è avvenuta dopo?</b><br />
- Immediata. L'idea iniziale era proprio quella di riscrivere la favola orientandola in altre dimensioni.<br />
<b>- I personaggi, in testa ti sono arrivati a cascata, tutti insieme, o ci hai un attimo ragionato?</b><br />
- Halley è stata folgorante perché la conosco di persona. Per il nome - volevo un nome che fosse unico - mi ha dato una mano Leonardo (<a href="http://www.amazon.it/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&field-keywords=Leonardo%20Patrignani%20mondadori&linkCode=ur2&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3ALeonardo%20Patrignani%20mondadori&tag=micponsjou-21&url=search-alias%3Daps" target="_blank">Patrignani</a>, ndr) cedendomi quello di uno dei suoi personaggi ancora da utilizzare. Il resto è andato da sé. Il cacciatore, il lupo... non è stato difficile ma certo divertentissimo.<br />
<b>- Dopo aver letto <i>La sindrome di Cappuccetto Rosso</i> mi è venuto un dubbio...</b><br />
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<i>Parte censurata causa SPOILER ENORME</i><br />
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<b>- Più o meno, quanti anni ha il Lupo?</b><br />
- 20. Halley ne ha 17.<br />
<b>- È che mi pareva un po' giovane come infiltrato.</b><br />
- Lui l'ha salvata per finta da una precedente aggressione del.cacciatore. per conquistare la fiducia di Halley hanno mandato uno giovane.<br />
<b>- Comunque hai lasciato infinite possibilità, dopo <i>La sindrome</i> la storia è apertissima.</b><br />
- Sì. La storia è apertissima sempre. Anche dopo. Andando avanti scoprirai che però c'è una trama di fondo.<br />
<b>- C'è già una trama - Le faccio la linguaccia per prenderla in giro.</b><br />
- Una più larga. Una che riguarda i personaggi.<br />
<b>- La fantasia iniziale, quella delle prime pagine, l'hai ripresa da un film o sei golosa di tuo? Pensavo alla <i>Fabbrica di cioccolato</i> che ho sia letto che visto, e ci ho pensato spesso mentre leggevo le prime pagine</b><br />
- Non l'ho ripresa da un film e non sono golosa. Mi sono semplicemente calata nel trip di un goloso che assume una droga capace di regalargli l'illusione del suo più grande sogno. Da li nasce la città dolce.<br />
Un pò Hansel e Gretel, se vogliamo.<br />
<b>- Eh?!</b><br />
- La casa è di marzapane<br />
<b>- Ah, la strega nel bosco</b><br />
- Esatto. La casa della strega è di marzapane e pan di spagna. Ma è una trappola...<br />
<b>- Come tutte le cose troppo attraenti.</b><br />
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<i>Parte censurata per LA SALUTE MENTALE DEI LETTORI</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rbSW3HAr9nnt_2CetjoMX78SehFeeCqchp-nMRWdfyYaU-wZ0BcXmOYnPgZDkxo2r8KNhLHknK3mi56wMU3JZ8x3DJ-vkqdI9Q5N6iu7xurTz3sqqjdFTEbgGxsf7bLK6iELd5KgYpk/s1600/Ophelia+e+le+officine+del+tempo+-+Emanuela+Valentini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rbSW3HAr9nnt_2CetjoMX78SehFeeCqchp-nMRWdfyYaU-wZ0BcXmOYnPgZDkxo2r8KNhLHknK3mi56wMU3JZ8x3DJ-vkqdI9Q5N6iu7xurTz3sqqjdFTEbgGxsf7bLK6iELd5KgYpk/s1600/Ophelia+e+le+officine+del+tempo+-+Emanuela+Valentini.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
<b>- Comunque, che diavolo te volevo di'?</b><br />
- Eh, a sapello.<br />
<b>- Che ne pensi dei romanzi a puntate? È un po' come tornare indietro nel tempo. O il tuo non lo vedi come un romanzo a puntate?</b><br />
- Certo che lo vedo come un romanzo a puntate, e lo adoro. Mi fa pensare al feuilleton ottocentesco. Alla fine saranno oltre 500.000 battute.<br />
<b>Sorrido</b><br />
- Mi piace pensare che chi ama quello che scrivo ne abbia per un bel po'. Cinque puntate bisettimanali è un bel modo di stare insieme. E siccome sono anche appassionata di fumetti apprezzo la cosa.<br />
<b>- Che fumetti leggi?</b><br />
- Dylan Dog da sempre. Topolino. Witch. Manga.<br />
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<i>Parte censurata... CON MANU FINISCE SEMPRE COSÌ</i><br />
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<b>- ... e con la Delos?</b><br />
- Per ora l'accordo riguarda le cinque puntate di <i>Red</i>. Poi si vedrà. Forse una seconda stagione, o magari...<br />
<b>- Magari il cartaceo della prima! Tu l'hai letto o visto <i>Cappuccetto Rosso sangue</i>? Sono contento che nella tua versione la storia cambia totalmente ed è presa solo da spunto, invece di trasformare giusto il lupo in un lupo mannaro.</b><br />
- L'ho visto. Copiare non ha senso. Io scrivo per inventare.<br />
<b>- Vabbè, ora possiamo tornare a parlare di...</b><br />
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<i>Parte censurata</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Acquista <i>Red Psychedelia </i>su <a href="http://www.amazon.it/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&field-keywords=Emanuela%20Valentini%20Red%20Psychedelia&linkCode=ur2&tag=micponsjou-21&url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text" target="_blank">amazon.it</a>, <a href="http://www.bookrepublic.it/books/authors/Emanuela%20Valentini/" target="_blank">bookrepublic.it</a>, <a href="http://www.ibs.it/ebook/ser/serfat.asp?site=ebook&xy=emanuela+valentini" target="_blank">ibs.it</a> o dove preferisci.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-5819760139378084882014-03-15T16:38:00.000+01:002014-03-15T16:38:53.997+01:00Rispettabili lavori - Buongiorno Roma, vol. I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg98n2EYlyAvklwDquVD6HEK7TXHHIBSjEITJhcgV_mrbUhBF3NZ7qMjSS81sx8pIT7_5-CrDae_nqglzOr3UX2N29N3HC55uMPgyPkgTJFa0wGYXp6cSQPmnFFTXTuMH_kcaQ62BDawsU/s1600/bookcover2.1.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg98n2EYlyAvklwDquVD6HEK7TXHHIBSjEITJhcgV_mrbUhBF3NZ7qMjSS81sx8pIT7_5-CrDae_nqglzOr3UX2N29N3HC55uMPgyPkgTJFa0wGYXp6cSQPmnFFTXTuMH_kcaQ62BDawsU/s1600/bookcover2.1.1.jpg" height="320" width="226" /></a></div>
<b>Provo a raccontarvi Roma, un pezzetto alla volta.</b><br />
Quello che mi interessa sono le storie delle persone che in questa città ci vivono, ci soffrono, si divertono, fanno l'amore, ci vengono in vacanza.<br />
Mi interessano le genti, i loro comportamenti, le loro reazioni.<br />
Roma è piena di storie, e di storia. Un grande romanzo non sarebbe bastato: non si può venire a Roma e provare tutta la cucina in un'unica cena, ma si può farlo un pasto alla volta, un racconto alla volta, giorno dopo giorno.<br />
<br />
<b>Proverò a conquistarvi ogni due settimane, il 15 e il 30 di ogni mese.</b> Per rimanere aggiornati potete seguirmi attraverso uno dei seguenti link:<br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/BuongiornoRM">http://www.facebook.com/BuongiornoRM</a><br />
<a href="http://buongiornorm.blogspot.it/">http://buongiornorm.blogspot.it</a><br />
<a href="http://twitter.com/micheleponte">http://twitter.com/micheleponte</a><br />
<br />
In giro si dice: «I racconti non vendono, non li compra nessuno.» Dimostriamogli il contrario. Aiutatemi a scalare le classifiche e forse un agente letterario o un buon editore si farà sentire per la pubblicazione cartacea.<br />
<br />
Leggi le prime pagine su: <a href="http://buongiornorm.blogspot.it/2014/03/le-prime-pagine-di-rispettabili-lavori.html">http://buongiornorm.blogspot.it/2014/03/le-prime-pagine-di-rispettabili-lavori.html </a><br />
<br />
<b>Acquistalo a soli 99 centesimi su:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/B00IYX15EU/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=B00IYX15EU&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SfjegLd4JMCRZeMNRGJSfQgy_2X5FtHs4tG_pB04KfzNRo6GBmDWqIJClJS4K0PiPKKHq3WlXZrkjT53Ba_51QgHv-NfG4kazVp6B8Uss4vu6UDVaH30g5wdmzMjaozyjHiXwNrgrSw/s1600/a_it_logo_RGB.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/it/book/rispettabili-lavori-buongiorno/id839729191?mt=11"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2qcxNTEXq6vtYEM2akggrtMEk0JQ6o93f-S0K1OUqnTZZR3qCn63SIMEZa3VyOu1h4GAT12ZjaFFtv5m6BLbfLBAFDXwWOc55ZV5ym_vRuB_DFOl6tvDqwyPNDamrKCDbd2aKrykwg0/s1600/Download_on_iBooks_Badge_IT_110x40_090513.png" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.bookrepublic.it/book/9788869090622-rispettabili-lavori-buongiorno-roma-vol-i/"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNPJBB-rWTUhTNscByiqhgGtTIzzESelbptucVZbgKahEw6cdNnBpWYM4ImCXxUHjTLAZZaL_ezyHmU-gQoE5amwOP7EwPjrdMNY0p6K3-xGbTccQi9NwmRoVtHOXL5URyVOwYGQB6uo/s1600/logo-bookrepublic.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.inmondadori.it/Rispettabili-lavori-Michele-Ponte/eai978886909062/"><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZEavWAsQCqNfHq0LCO1FoWXbXD8_3PT8bZVngwkQYCiq7XZ99dK3zn4-Wyuao9De7r0nRY8bzw1R1GJOkSu2R8xo_fk-rBUf_nkYhis_89LuIlUlpALmeh0RZMTgzoBUqTskYH7vwZ0/s1600/logo-in-mondadori.jpg" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-8680673669490030712014-03-14T09:23:00.001+01:002014-03-14T09:28:54.056+01:00La gatta di Varsavia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Io sono uno di quei malati di libri che appena vedono un testo che ha a che fare qualcosa con la Polonia, pensano: Lo compro. Così è andata con <i>La gatta di Varsavia</i>, e non è che i gatti mi stanno proprio simpatici, ma la parola "Varsavia" nel titolo era troppo forte, risplendeva. Poi ho controllato chi era l'autrice, Slavenka Drakulić, ed ho visto che era croata; lì ho chiuso un occhio ricordami di un'amica conosciuta a Cracovia, papà croato e mamma polacca, che mi stava proprio simpatica. Poi ho visto che l'autrice risiede in Svezia; due pensieri su un amico mezzo svedese e mezzo italiano, <i>et voilà</i>, ho comprato l'eBook, che oggi è in offerta a 1,99 € invece di 4,99.<br />
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<i>Cosa racconterebbero un cane, una gatta, un topolino, una talpa, un pappagallo, un corvo, una maialina e un orso della loro vita sotto il comunismo? Charlie, un cane romeno, rilascia un'intervista alla stampa lamentando come la distruzione del centro storico di Bucarest ordinata da Ceausescu per costruire la "Casa del Popolo" abbia gettato per strada due milioni di randagi. Bohumil, un topolino di Praga, accompagnando un parente nella visita al museo del comunismo, gli spiega i motivi della caduta del regime e il valore di ciò che il museo rappresenta. Una "creatura di origini feline" scrive al pubblico ministero che deve processare Jaruzelski per i suoi crimini nell'era comunista, chiedendo di poter testimoniare a favore del generale. Il racconto della leggenda del muro di Berlino è affidato a una talpa appassionata di archeologia. Il pappagallo Koki, appartenuto al maresciallo Tito, definisce il suo padrone "un comunista di gran classe". Un orso ballerino di nome Tosho racconta la propria storia e quella del popolo bulgaro. Sono solo alcune di queste singolari voci che a più di vent'anni di distanza dalla caduta dei regimi comunisti in Europa si interrogano - a modo loro - su democrazia e capitalismo, giustizia sociale e responsabilità collettiva, cercando di interpretare quella storia per capire le ragioni dell'oggi. </i><br />
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Acquista l'eBook su <a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/B00GFUQQAM/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=B00GFUQQAM&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Amazon</a> o su <a href="http://www.bookrepublic.it/book/9788868652999-la-gatta-di-varsavia/" target="_blank">BookRepublic</a>.<br />
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PS: forse c'è stato anche il pensiero: Baldini&Castoldi è una casa editrice appena risorta (era fallita), finanziamola un pochino.<br />
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PPS: forse c'è stato anche un pensiero collegato a quello che sta combinando Putin questi giorni<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Post pubblicato anche su: <a href="http://polacche.blogspot.it/2014/03/la-gatta-di-varsavia.html" target="_blank">polacche.blogspot.it/2014/03/la-gatta-di-varsavia.html</a> </span></div><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-52924864151310239212014-03-08T20:48:00.002+01:002014-03-10T15:02:30.341+01:00"Mondo9" di Dario Tonani, mmm, merita!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Avete presente quando vi capita di leggere un libro e vi chiedete "com'è possibile che io questo autore ancora non l'avevo scoperto?" Be', è proprio quello che ho pensato leggendo <i><a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8865303247/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8865303247&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Mondo9</a> </i>di Dario Tonani. Ed io non è che l'avevo snobbato perché sono un tipo che disprezza la fantascienza (un tempo mi comprai in blocco degli Urania così, sull'istinto) e che non ha assolutamente idea di cosa sia lo steampunk (tra poco controllo su Wikipedia, e magari scopro che già lo sapevo), semplicemente non l'avevo mai sentito nominare.<br />
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E qui, come sempre in quest'epoca, arriva Facebook. Un autore, <a href="http://www.amazon.it/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&field-keywords=Leonardo%20Patrignani&linkCode=ur2&tag=micponsjou-21&url=search-alias%3Daps" target="_blank">Leonardo Patrignani</a>, che su un post afferma di voler leggere <i>Mondo9</i>.<br />
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<i>Mondo9</i>?, mi sono chiesto<i>, </i>Che diavolo è <i>Mondo9</i>?<br />
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Un po' di ricerche e, mmm, forse è un libro interessante, mmm, 'sto Dario Tonani è stato pubblicato pure in Giappone, mmm, in biblioteca non c'è, vabbé lo compro.<br />
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Il libro arriva a casa e sul comodino trova una concorrenza spietata: <i>Utopia</i> di Patrignani che il giorno dopo sarei andato a farmelo firmare (e poi sono finito pure a cena con l'autore, insieme a Emanuela Valentini, un'altra autrice); <i><a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8817072060/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8817072060&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Il gran Diavolo</a></i> di Sacha Naspini, un amico appena pubblicato da Rizzoli; <i><a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8868366851/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8868366851&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Pieno giorno</a> </i>di J. R. Moehringer, un autore che ha vinto il Pulitzer; <i><a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8806217488/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8806217488&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Troppa felicità</a></i> della Munro, autrice che ha vinto il Nobel e ultimo non per ordine di importanza, Charles Bukowski con <i><a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8807880555/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8807880555&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Storie di ordinaria follia</a></i>, libro che sto amando.<br />
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Non chiedetemi perché leggo tutti 'sti libri assieme, e comunque visto che ho appena finito <i>Mondo9</i> sto per iniziare <i><a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/B00BQZCGNM/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=B00BQZCGNM&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Ophelia e le officine del tempo</a></i> della sopracitata Emanuela Valentini... sarò strano.<br />
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Arriviamo al libro, diciamo qualcosa del libro, dato che se lo merita. Sono quattro racconti inizialmente pubblicati singolarmente in <a href="http://www.amazon.it/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&field-keywords=dario%20tonani%20mondonove&linkCode=ur2&tag=micponsjou-21&url=search-alias%3Daps" target="_blank">eBook dall'editore 40k</a>, poi in edizione cartacea da <a href="http://www.amazon.it/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&field-keywords=Delos%20Books&linkCode=ur2&tag=micponsjou-21&url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks" target="_blank">Delos Books</a>. Ogni racconto ha il nome di una nave (nave è davvero riduttivo, credetemi) che solca Mondo9, un posto desertico, pieno di dune, dove ogni cosa che si tocca, sabbia compresa, è infetta.<br />
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In questi quattro racconti separati ma collegati, Dario Tonani ci fa piano piano conoscere questo mondo e, perlopiù, gli umani e la macchine che vi abitano. Macchine che - preferirei non rivelarvi nulla - hanno particolari abilita e una "forza motrice" non ben definita almeno sino alle ultime pagine dell'ultimo racconto (cosa ottima, dato che ti spinge ad andar avanti fino alla fine). Le macchine, come tutte le macchine, hanno bisogno di assistenza tecnica, e ciò è molto importante durante tutto il corso dei racconti. Inoltre, come ogni macchina, hanno uno scopo: la partecipazione a una guerra. E quel bastardo di Dario Tonani (senza offesa, eh, Da') riesce a farci rimanere incollati alle pagine senza mostrarci neanche un briciolo di guerra (forse lo farai nel prossimo libro? Dimmi di sì, ritiro il "bastardo"), ma non solo, la cosa che mi ha sorpreso è la sua grandissima capacità a livello di scrittura! Prendendo il libro in mano mi immaginavo una buona storia, non un maestro della parola. Tra me e me, un po' scherzando un po' no, mi dicevo: guarda se questo adesso mi deve far tirare fuori il vocabolario. Ho avuto e ho una totale ammirazione per come scrive, mi ha davvero colpito e affondato in quel dannato deserto.<br />
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<i>Mondo9</i> ha anche avuto degli effetti collaterali sulla mia vita. Vi è mai capitato di andare all'ufficio postale e di sperare che ci sia più fila possibile per avere più tempo per leggere? A me questa volta è capitato. Vi è mai capitato di andare al lavoro con le occhiaie perché vi siete sparati le prime 88 pagine di un libro? Spero di sì, eh.<br />
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Comunque, alla fine, di <i>Mondo9 </i>c'è una cosa che non ho letto... rullo di tamburi... la prefazione di Salvatore Proietti. Rimedierò.</div></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-79557823769356790272014-03-03T08:10:00.000+01:002014-03-10T15:07:08.455+01:00"Morfina" di Szczepan Twardoch sarebbe un peccato non vederlo tradotto in italiano<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Un editore, o un agente letterario, o un traduttore che voglia portare questo libro in Italia c'è?<br />
È forse il più bel romanzo uscito in Polonia negli ultimi 10 anni. Per ora i diritti sono stati venduti in Germania e in Francia, qui no.<br />
<a name='more'></a>È la storia di un uomo terribile, il peggiore degli anti eroi. Un cinico, un farabutto, un marito infedele, un cattivo padre, un donnaiolo, un egoista disposto a tutto pur di non andare in guerra.
Da quel che mi dicono i miei amici polacchi, è il più amato degli anti eroi. È un libro culto.<br />
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Su Goodreads una ragazza lo ha recensito in inglese: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/484790879?book_show_action=true&page=1">https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/484790879?book_show_action=true&page=1</a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-12636823785555458662014-02-27T20:08:00.001+01:002014-03-10T15:07:35.327+01:00"To jest", questo è, a spasso con Fabio Izzo.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Quattro stelline e mezzo su cinque.<br />
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Un libro particolare, difficilmente collocabile sulla linea editoriale di un grosso editore. Potrebbe esssere un cult dell'underground, descrivendolo all'inglese. All'inzio bisogna farci il callo, che Izzo ha uno stile tutto suo; poi ci abitua e, puff, si viene folgorati. La storia è davvero originale, e più si conoscono i personaggi e più si sorride.<br />
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Incontrai l'autore in Polonia, mentre lavoravo a Danzica, dove è ambientata una parte del libro. Quindi il mio giudizio potrebbe essere compromesso da questo incontro, ma chi lo sa... <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-36773124908064753982014-02-04T18:43:00.001+01:002014-03-10T15:07:53.714+01:00 "Il gran diavolo" di Sacha Naspini, il romanzo del 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Il 26 febbraio esce quello che spero sarà il miglior libro dell'anno, "Il gran diavolo" di Sacha Naspini (Rizzoli editore). Sono già pronto a comprare copie su copie, per me ed i miei amici.<br />
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I colpi d’artiglieria sovrastano il fracasso del metallo delle armature e le grida dei soldati all’attacco. Della guerra e della morte, però, non ha paura Giovanni: lui è un Medici, nelle sue vene scorre sangue nobile, ma combattivo e fiero, e ogni giorno affronta il nemico alla testa delle più feroci truppe mercenarie d’Italia, le Bande Nere.Il campo di battaglia è grigio, freddo, immerso nella nebbia, eppure i suoi uomini lo seguirebbero anche all’inferno. Tra questi marcia Niccolò, un giovane soprannominato il Serparo per l’inquietante abitudine di tenere tre o quattro serpenti avvolti intorno al braccio. Custode di una sapienza antica, si affida loro per conoscere il futuro. Perciò gli altri soldati lo tengono a distanza, ma presto conquisterà la fiducia del Capitano, riuscendo a penetrarne lo sguardo severo. E dove Giovanni lo avesse posato, là Niccolò si sarebbe fatto trovare, al suo fianco, in mezzo alla mischia. Sempre. Sacha Naspini, con una lingua affilata che si misura con il dolore, il male, la morte, racconta di un’amicizia e di quello scorcio di ’500 che fu uno tra i momenti più tumultuosi della Storia d’Italia, quando ogni cosa stava cambiando, e tutti tradivano tutti. E lo fa attraverso un personaggio che incarna perfettamente il suo tempo, quel Gran Diavolo disposto a tutto per dominare la sorte e gli uomini. E continuare a combattere.<br />
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IL SECONDO EBOOK DELLA SERIE "I SIGNORI DELLA GUERRA".<br />
AMBIZIOSI, CORAGGIOSI, SENZA SCRUPOLI. SONO LE ANIME NERE DELLA STORIA D'ITALIA: CONDOTTIERI, POLITICI, SOLDATI AUDACI E SPREGIUDICATI MOSSI DA UN'INARRESTABILE SETE DI POTERE.<br />
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Gli altri titoli della serie:<br />
- Il crociato infedele, di Davide Mosca<br />
- Il falco nero, di Mauro Marcialis<br />
- Il principe del male, di Francesco Ongaro </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-69173583757611522092014-02-04T11:44:00.002+01:002014-03-10T15:08:17.379+01:00Cosa provano gli scrittori?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
David Foster Wallace prende il pensiero di Don DeLillo e lo espande ricavandone un'opera d'arte. Ogni suo/loro pensiero lo condivido pienamente, è proprio quello che si prova.<br />
<a name='more'></a>Foto tratta da <i><a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8806214799/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8806214799&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Di carne e di nulla</a></i> (Giulio Einaudi Editore, 2013).
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-10824781363212513672013-12-24T16:43:00.001+01:002014-03-10T15:08:49.086+01:00Regalino di Natale? Un eBook!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Per Natale mi sono regalato <i>Pensa un numero</i> di Anders Bodelsen (Iperborea Casa Editrice). Solo per oggi l'eBook è in promozioni a 1.49 €, vedete un po' che volete fa'.<br />
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Io l'ho preso su BookRepublic (<a href="http://www.bookrepublic.it/book/9788870913156-pensa-un-numero/" target="_blank">qui</a>), ma se preferite Amazon, ecco <a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8870914100/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8870914100&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">il link</a>.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-6151706233587134562013-12-21T16:58:00.000+01:002014-03-10T15:08:34.959+01:00Jennifer Egan e la scatola nera... Harry Potter e... vabbè.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Probabilmente non è il primo racconto/romanzo breve scritto su Twitter, ma dato che l'autrice è un premio Pulitzer non poteva fare a meno a di farsi meritevolmente notare. Basta abituarsi al tipo di scrittura, e la storia scorre che è un piacere. Fate un tentativo.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Lo trovi in biblioteca, su <a href="http://www.bookrepublic.it/book/9788875214807-scatola-nera/" target="_blank">BookRepublic</a> e su <a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8875215383/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8875215383&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">Amazon</a>.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-64662164898538283672013-12-21T15:30:00.002+01:002014-03-10T15:09:08.712+01:00Addio a Pual Torday, cancro<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Foto presa in prestito dai tizi dell'<a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/news/paul-torday-dead-salmon-fishing-in-the-yemen-authors-race-against-time-9016626.html" target="_blank">Indipendent</a></td></tr>
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L'autore di <a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8861922155/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8861922155&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank"><i>Pesca al salmone nello Yemen</i></a>, portato in Italia da Simone Caltabellota per Elliot edizioni se ben ricordo, è deceduto qualche giorno fa. precisamente il 18 dicembre. Da anni Paul Torday portava avanti la sua lotta contro il cancro, e molti critici si erano chiesti come facesse a scrivere un libro dopo l'altro a un ritmo serrato, ma la spiegazione era semplice: non aveva più tempo. <br />
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Non mi ricordo mica se lo scorso anno, il 2012, Torday fosse presente alla manifesta Più libri più liberi di Roma, eppuro ho assistito alla presentazione!, e qui mi vien la certazza che in futuro avrò l'alzheimer... boh, mi pare che alla presentezione non c'era, ma chi lo sa.<br />
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I suoi libri per qualche motivo mi hanno sempre attirato, eppure non ne ho mai preso davvero in mano uno con lo scopo di leggerlo. Magari in futuro. E questo post è un po' pure per ricordarmi di farlo, nel caso in cui l'alzheimer mi sconfigga. Ok, se non vi piace questo tipo d'ironia, allontanatevi da 'sto blog.<br />
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Scrivici dall'altro mondo, se esite, Paul!<br />
<br />
I suoi libri, se non li prendi in biblioteca, <a href="http://www.amazon.it/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&field-author=Paul%20Torday&linkCode=ur2&search-alias=stripbooks&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">comprali</a>.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-404603063410224332013-09-19T14:03:00.000+02:002014-03-10T15:09:39.573+01:00Un estratto da "The Wind of Winters", il prossimo libro de "Le cronache del ghiaccio e del fuoco"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Nota: da qui all'uscita per Harper Collins il testo potrebbe cambiare numerose volte.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">ARIANNE</span></b></div>
<br />
They struck out north by northwest, across drylands and parched plains and pale sands toward<br />
Ghost Hill, the stronghold of House Toland, where the ship that would take them across the Sea of<br />
Dorne awaited them." "Send a raven whenever you have news," Prince Doran told her, "but report only<br />
what you know to be true." We are lost in fog here, besieged by rumors, falsehoods, and traveler’s tales."<br />
I dare not act until I know for a certainty what is happening."<br />
<i>War is happening</i>, though Arianne, <i>and this time Dorne will not be spared</i>. "Doom and death<br />
are coming," Ellaria Sand had warned them, before she took her own leave from Prince Doran." "It is<br />
time for my little snakes to scatter, the better to survive the carnage."" Ellaria was returning to her<br />
father’s seat at Hellholt." With her went her daughter Loreza, who had just turned seven." Dorea<br />
remained at the Water Gardens, one child amongst a hundred." Obella was to be dispatched to<br />
Sunspear, to serve as a cupbearer to the wife of the castellan, Manfrey Martell."<br />
And Elia Sand, oldest of the four girls that Prince Oberyn had fathered on Ellaria, would cross<br />
the Sea of Dorne with Arianne." "As a lady, not a lance," her mother said firmly, but like all the Sand<br />
Snakes, Elia had her own mind.<br />
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They crossed the sands in two long days and the better part of two nights, stopping thrice to<br />
change their horses." It was a lonely time for Arianne, surrounded by so many strangers." Elia was her cousin, but half a child, and Daemon Sand… things had never been the same between her and the<br />
Bastard of Godsgrace after her father refused his offer for her hand. <i>He was a boy then, and bastard</i><br />
<i>born, no fit consort for a princess of Dorne, he should have known better.! And it was my father’s will, not mine.</i> The rest of her companions she hardly knew at all.<br />
Arianne missed her friends." Drey and Garin and her sweet Spotted Slyva had been a part of<br />
her since she was little, trusted confidants who had shared her dreams and secrets, cheered her when<br />
she was sad, helped her face her fears." One of them had betrayed her, but she missed them all the<br />
same." It was my own fault." Arianne had made them part of her plot to steal off with Myrcella<br />
Baratheon and crown her queen, an act of rebellion meant to force her father’s hand, but someone’s<br />
loose tongue had undone her." The clumsy conspiracy had accomplished nothing, except to cost poor<br />
Myrcella part of her face, and Ser Arys Oakheart his life."<br />
Arianne missed Ser Arys too, more than she ever would have thought. <i>He loved me madly</i>,<br />
she told herself, yet I was never more than fond of him. I made use of him in my<i> bed and in my plot,</i><br />
<i>took his love and took his honor, gave him nothing but my body.! In the end he could not live with what </i><i>we’d done.</i> Why else would her white knight have charged right into Areo Hotah’s longaxe, to die the<br />
way he did? <i>I was a foolish willful girl, playing at the game of thrones like a drunkard rolling dice.</i><br />
The cost of her folly had been dear." Drey had been sent across the world to Norvos, Garin<br />
exiled to Tyrosh for two years, her sweet silly smiling Slyva married off to Eldon Estermont, a man old<br />
enough to be her grandsire." Ser Arys had paid with his life’s blood, Myrcella with an ear."<br />
Only Ser Gerold Dayne had escaped unscathed. <i> Darkstar</i>. If Myrcella’s horse had not shied<br />
at the last instant, his longsword would have opened her from chest to waist instead just taking off her<br />
ear." Dayne was her most grievous sin, the one that Arianne most regretted." With one stroke of his<br />
sword, he had changed her botched plot into something foul and bloody." If the gods were good, by<br />
now Obara Sand had treed him in his mountain fastness and put an end to him.<br />
She said as much to Daemon Sand that first night, as they made camp." "Be careful what you<br />
pray for, princess," he replied." "Darkstar could put an end to Lady Obara just as easily."<br />
"She has Areo Hotah with her."" Prince Doran’s captain of guards had dispatched Ser Arys<br />
Oakheart with a single blow, though the Kingsguard were supposed to be the finest knights in all the<br />
realm." "No man can stand against Hotah."<br />
"Is that what Darkstar is? A man?" Ser Daemon grimaced. "A man would not have done<br />
what he did to Princess Myrcella." Ser Gerold is more a viper than your uncle ever was." Prince Oberyn<br />
could see that he was poison, he said so more than once." It’s just a pity that he never got around to<br />
killing him."<br />
<i>Poison</i>, thought Arianne. <i>Yes</i>. Pretty poison, though." That was how he’d fooled her." Gerold<br />
Dayne was hard and cruel, but so fair to look upon that the princess had not believed half the tales<br />
she’d heard of him." Pretty boys had ever been her weakness, particularly the ones who were dark and<br />
dangerous as well." <i>That was before, when I was just a girl</i>, she told herself. <i>I am a woman now, my</i><br />
<i>father’s daughter.! I have learned that lesson.</i><br />
Come break of day, they were off again." Elia Sand led the way, her black braid flying behind<br />
her as she raced across the dry, cracked plains and up into the hills." The girl was mad for horses, which<br />
might be why she often smelled like one, to the despair of her mother." Sometimes Arianne felt sorry<br />
for Ellaria." Four girls, and every one of them her father’s daughter."<br />
The rest of the party kept a more sedate pace." The princess found herself riding beside Ser<br />
Daemon, remembering other rides when they were younger, rides that often ended in embraces." When<br />
she found herself stealing glances at him, tall and gallant in the saddle, Arianne reminded herself that<br />
she was heir to Dorne, and him no more than her shield." "Tell me what you know of this Jon<br />
Connington," she commanded.<br />
"He’s dead," said Daemon Sand." "He died in the Disputed Lands." Of drink, I’ve heard it<br />
said."<br />
"So a dead drunk leads this army?"<br />
"Perhaps this Jon Connington is a son of that one." Or just some clever sellsword who has<br />
taken on a dead man’s name."<br />
"Or he never died at all."" Could Connington have been pretending to be dead for all these<br />
years?" That would require patience worthy of her father." The thought made Arianne uneasy." Treating<br />
with a man that subtle could be perilous." "What was he like before he… before he died?"<br />
"I was a boy at Godsgrace when he was sent into exile." I never knew the man."<br />
"Then tell me what you’ve heard of him from others."<br />
"As my princess commands." Connington was Lord of Griffin’s Roost when Griffin’s Roost<br />
was still a lordship worth the having." Prince Rhaegar’s squire, or one of them." Later Prince Rhaegar’s<br />
friend and companion." The Mad King named him Hand during Robert’s Rebellion, but he was<br />
defeated at Stoney Sept in the Battle of the Bells, and Robert slipped away." King Aerys was wroth, and<br />
sent Connington into exile." There he died."<br />
"Or not."" Prince Doran had told her all of that. <i>There must be more</i>. "Those are just the<br />
things he did." I know all that." What sort of man was he?" Honest and honorable, venal and grasping,<br />
proud?"<br />
"Proud, for a certainty." Even arrogant." A faithful friend to Rhaegar, but prickly with others."<br />
Robert was his liege, but I’ve heard it said that Connington chafed at serving such a lord." Even then,<br />
Robert was known to be fond of wine and whores."<br />
"No whores for Lord Jon, then?"<br />
"I could not say." Some men keep their whoring secret."<br />
"Did he have a wife?" A paramour?"<br />
Ser Daemon shrugged." "Not that I have ever heard."<br />
That was troubling too." Ser Arys Oakheart had broken his vows for her, but it did not sound<br />
as if Jon Connington could be similarly swayed.<i> Can I match such a man with words alone?</i><br />
The princess lapsed into silence, all the while pondering what she would find at journey’s end."<br />
That night when they made camp, she crept into the tent she shared with Jayne Ladybright and Elia<br />
Sand and slipped the bit of parchment out of her sleeve to read the words again.<br />
<br />
To Prince Doran of House Martell,<br />
You will remember me, I pray." I knew your sister well, and was a leal servant of your good-brother." I grieve for them as you do." I did not die, no more than did your sister’s son." To save his life we kept him hidden, but the time for hiding is done." A dragon has returned to Westeros to claim his birthright and seek vengeance for his father, and for the princess Elia, his mother.<br />
In her name I turn to Dorne." Do not forsake us."<br />
Jon Connington<br />
Lord of Griffin’s Roost<br />
Hand of the True King<br />
<br />
Arianne read the letter thrice, then rolled it up and tucked it back into her sleeve." A dragon<br />
has returned to Westeros, but not the dragon my father was expecting." Nowhere in the words was there<br />
a mention of Daenerys Stormborn… nor of Prince Quentyn, her brother, who had been sent to seek the<br />
dragon queen." The princess remembered how her father had pressed the onyx cyvasse piece into her<br />
palm, his voice hoarse and low as he confessed his plan. <i>A long and perilous voyage, with an</i><br />
<i>uncertain welcome at its end</i>, he had said. <i>He has gone to bring us back our heart’s desire.! Vengeance.!</i><br />
<i>Justice.! Fire and blood.</i><br />
Fire and blood was what Jon Connington (if indeed it was him) was offering as well." Or was<br />
it?" "He comes with sellswords, but no dragons," Prince Doran had told her, the night the raven came."<br />
"The Golden Company is the best and largest of the free companies, but ten thousand mercenaries<br />
cannot hope to win the Seven Kingdoms." Elia’s son… I would weep for joy if some part of my sister<br />
had survived, but what proof do we have that this is Aegon?"" His voice broke when he said that."<br />
"Where are the dragons?" he asked." "Where is Daenerys?" and Arianne knew that he was really<br />
saying, "Where is my son?"<br />
In the Boneway and the Prince’s Pass, two Dornish hosts had massed, and there they sat,<br />
sharpening their spears, polishing their armor, dicing, drinking, quarreling, their numbers dwindling by<br />
the day, waiting, waiting, waiting for the Prince of Dorne to loose them on the enemies of House<br />
Martell. <i>Waiting for the dragons.! For fire and blood.! For me</i>. One word from Arianne and those<br />
armies would march… so long as that word was<i>dragon</i>. If instead the word she sent was war, Lord<br />
Yronwood and Lord Fowler and their armies would remain in place." The Prince of Dorne was nothing<br />
if not subtle; here warmeant wait."<br />
At mid-morning on the third day Ghost Hill loomed up before them, its chalk-white walls<br />
shining against the deep blue of the Sea of Dorne." From the square towers at the castle’s corners flew<br />
the banners of House Toland; a green dragon biting its own tail, upon a golden field." The sun-andspear<br />
of House Martell streamed atop the great central keep, gold and red and orange, defiant.<br />
Ravens had flown ahead to warn Lady Toland of their coming, so the castle gates were open,<br />
and Nymella’s eldest daughter rode forth with her steward to meet them near the bottom of the hill."<br />
Tall and fierce, with a blaze of bright red hair tumbling about her shoulders, Valena Toland greeted<br />
Arianne with a shout of, "Come at last, have you?" How slow are those horses?"<br />
"Swift enough to outrun yours to the castle gates."<br />
"We will see about that."" Valena wheeled her big red around and put her heels into him, and<br />
the race was on, through the dusty lanes of the village at the bottom of the hill, as chickens and<br />
villagers alike scrambled out of their path." Arianne was three horse lengths behind by the time she got<br />
her mare up to a gallop, but had closed to one halfway up the slope." The two of them were side-by-side<br />
as they thundered towards the gatehouse, but five yards from the gates Elia Sand came flying from the<br />
cloud of dust behind them to rush past both of them on her black filly.<br />
"Are you half horse, child?" Valena asked, laughing, in the yard." "Princess, did you bring a<br />
stable girl?"<br />
"I’m Elia," the girl announced." "Lady Lance."<br />
<i>Whoever hung that name on her has much to answer for.</i> Like as not it had been Prince<br />
Oberyn, though, and the Red Viper had never answered to anyone but himself.<br />
"The girl jouster," Valena said." "Yes, I’ve heard of you." Since you were the first to the yard,<br />
you’ve won the honor of watering and bridling the horses."<br />
"And after that find the bath house," said Princess Arianne." Elia was chalk and dust from<br />
heels to hair."<br />
That night Arianne and her knights supped with Lady Nymella and her daughters in the great<br />
hall of the castle." Teora, the younger girl, had the same red hair as her sister, but elsewise could not<br />
have been more different." Short, plump, and so shy she might have passed for a mute, she displayed<br />
more interest in the spiced beef and honeyed duck than in the comely young knights at the table, and<br />
seemed content to let her lady mother and her sister speak for House Toland."<br />
"We have heard the same tales here that you have heard at Sunspear," Lady Nymella told them<br />
as her serving man poured the wine." "Sellswords landing on Cape Wrath, castles under siege or being<br />
taken, crops seized or burned." Where these men come from and who they are, no one is certain."<br />
"Pirates and adventurers, we heard at first," said Valena." "Then it was supposed to be the<br />
Golden Company." Now it’s said to be Jon Connington, the Mad King’s Hand, come back from the<br />
grave to reclaim his birthright." Whoever it is, Griffin’s Roost has fallen to them." Rain House, Crow’s<br />
Nest, Mistwood, even Greenstone on its island." All taken."<br />
Arianne’s thoughts went at once to her sweet Spotted Slyva." "Who would want Greenstone?"<br />
Was there a battle?"<br />
"Not as we have heard, but all the tales are garbled."<br />
"Tarth has fallen too, some fisherfolk will tell you," said Valena." "These sellswords now hold<br />
most of Cape Wrath and half the Stepstones." We hear talk of elephants in the rainwood."<br />
"Elephants?"" Arianne did not know what to think of that." "Are you certain?" Not dragons?"<br />
"Elephants," Lady Nymella said firmly.<br />
"And krakens off the Broken Arm, pulling under crippled galleys," said Valena." "The blood<br />
draws them to the surface, our maester claims." There are bodies in the water." A few have washed up<br />
on our shores." And that’s not half of it." A new pirate king has set up on Torturer’s Deep." The Lord of<br />
the Waters, he styles himself." This one has real warships, three-deckers, monstrous large." You were<br />
wise not to come by sea." Since the Redwyne fleet passed through the Stepstones, those waters are<br />
crawling with strange sails, all the way north to the Straights of Tarth and Shipbreaker’s Bay." Myrmen,<br />
Volantenes, Lyseni, even reavers from the Iron Islands." Some have entered the Sea of Dorne to land<br />
men on the south shore of Cape Wrath." We found a good fast ship for you, as your father commanded,<br />
but even so… be careful."<br />
<i>It is true, then.</i> Arianne wanted to ask after her brother, but her father had urged her to watch<br />
every word." If these ships had not brought Quentyn home again with his dragon queen, best not to<br />
mention him." Only her father and a few of his most trusted men knew about her brother’s mission to<br />
Slaver’s Bay." Lady Toland and her daughters were not amongst them." If it were Quentyn, he would<br />
have brought Daenerys back to Dorne, surely." Why would he risk a landing on Cape Wrath, amongst<br />
the stormlords?"<br />
"Is Dorne at risk?" Lady Nymella asked." "I confess, each time I see a strange sail my heart<br />
leaps to my throat." What if these ships turn south?" The best part of the Toland strength is with Lord<br />
Yronwood in the Boneway." Who will defend Ghost Hill if these strangers land upon our shores?"<br />
Should I call my men home?"<br />
"Your men are needed where they are, my lady," Daemon Sand assured her." Arianne was<br />
quick to nod." Any other counsel could well lead to Lord Yronwood’s host unravelling like an old<br />
tapestry as each man rushed home to defend his own lands against supposed enemies who might or<br />
might not ever come." "Once we know beyond a doubt whether these be friends or foes, my father will<br />
know what to do," the princess said.<br />
It was then that pasty, pudgy Teora raised her eyes from the creamcakes on her plate." "It is<br />
dragons."<br />
"Dragons?"" said her mother." "Teora, don’t be mad."<br />
"I’m not." They’re coming."<br />
"How could you possibly know that?" her sister asked, with a note of scorn in her voice." "One<br />
of your little dreams?"<br />
Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling." "They were dancing." In my dream." And everywhere<br />
the dragons danced the people died."<br />
"Seven save us."" Lady Nymella gave an exasperated sigh.<br />
"If you did not eat so many creamcakes you would not have such dreams." Rich foods are not for girls<br />
your age, when your humors are so unbalanced." Maester Toman says — "<br />
"I<i> hate</i> Maester Toman," Teora said." Then she bolted from the table, leaving her lady mother<br />
to make apologies for her.<br />
"Be gentle with her, my lady," Arianne said." "I remember when I was her age." My father<br />
despaired of me, I’m sure.""<br />
"I can attest to that."" Ser Daemon took a sip of wine and said, "House Toland has a dragon on<br />
its banners.""<br />
"A dragon eating its own tail, aye," Valena said." "From the days of Aegon’s Conquest." He did<br />
not conquer here." Elsewhere he burned his foes, him and his sisters, but here we melted away before<br />
them, leaving only stone and sand for them to burn." And round and round the dragons went, snapping<br />
at their tails for want of any other food, till they were tied in knots."<br />
"Our forebears played their part in that," Lady Nymella said proudly." "Bold deeds were done,<br />
and brave men died." All of it was written down by the maesters who served us." We have books, if my<br />
princess would like to know more."<br />
"Some other time, perhaps," said Arianne.<br />
As Ghost Hill slept that night, the princess donned a hooded cloak against the chill and and<br />
walked the castle battlements to clear her thoughts." Daemon Sand found her leaning on a parapet and<br />
gazing out to sea, where the moon was dancing on the water." "Princess," he said." "You ought to be<br />
abed."<br />
"I could say the same of you." Arianne turned to gaze upon his face. <i>A good face</i>, she<br />
decided. <i>The boy I knew has become a handsome man</i>. His eyes were as blue as a desert sky, his hair<br />
the light brown of the sands they had just crossed." A close-cropped beard followed the thin of a strong<br />
jaw, but could not quite hide the dimples when he smiled. <i>I always loved his smile</i>.<br />
The Bastard of Godsgrace was one of Dorne’s finest swords as well, as might be expected<br />
from one who had been Prince Oberyn’s squire and had received his knighthood from the Red Viper<br />
himself." Some said that he had been her uncle’s lover too, though seldom to his face." Arianne did not<br />
know the truth of that." He had been <i>her</i> lover, though." At fourteen she had given him her maidenhead."<br />
Daemon had not been much older, so their couplings had been as clumsy as they were ardent." Still, it<br />
had been sweet."<br />
Arianne gave him her most seductive smile." "We might share a bed together."<br />
Ser Daemon’s face was stone." "Have you forgotten, princess?" I am bastard born."" He took<br />
her hand in his." "If I am unworthy of this hand, how can I be worthy of your cunt?"<br />
She snatched her hand away." "You deserve a slap for that.<br />
"My face is yours." Do what you will."<br />
"What I will you will not, it seems." So be it." Talk with me instead." Could this truly be Prince<br />
Aegon?"<br />
"Gregor Clegane ripped Aegon out of Elia’s arms and smashed his head against a wall," Ser<br />
Daemon said." "If Lord Connington’s prince has a crushed skull, I will believe that Aegon Targaryen<br />
has returned from the grave." Elsewise, no." This is some feigned boy, no more." A sellsword’s ploy to<br />
win support."<br />
<i>My father fears the same.</i> "If not, though… if this truly is Jon Connington, if the boy is<br />
Rhaegar’s son… "<br />
"Are you hoping that he is, or that he’s not?"<br />
"I… it would give great joy to my father if Elia’s son were still alive." He loved his sister<br />
well."<br />
"It was you I asked about, not your father."<br />
<i>So it was</i>. "I was seven when Elia died." They say I held her daughter Rhaenys once, when I<br />
was too young to remember." Aegon will be a stranger to me, whether true or false."" The princess<br />
paused." "We looked for Rhaegar’s sister, not his son."" Her father had confided in Ser Daemon when<br />
he chose him as his daughter’s shield; with him at least she could speak freely." "I would sooner it were<br />
Quentyn who’d returned."<br />
"Or so you say," said Daemon Sand." "Good night, princess."" He bowed to her, and left her<br />
standing there.<br />
<i> What did he mean by that?</i> Arianne watched him walk away. <i>What sort of sister would I be,</i><br />
<i>if I did not want my brother back?</i> It was true, she had resented Quentyn for all those years that she<br />
had thought their father meant to name him as his heir in place of her, but that had turned out to be just<br />
a misunderstanding." She was the heir to Dorne, she had her father’s word on that." Quentyn would<br />
have his dragon queen, Daenerys.<br />
In Sunspear hung a portrait of the Princess Daenerys who had come to Dorne to marry one of<br />
Arianne’s forebears." In her younger days Arianne had spent hours gazing at it, back when she was just<br />
a pudgy flat-chested girl on the cusp of maidenhood who prayed every night for the gods to make her<br />
pretty. <i>A hundred years ago, Daenerys Targaryen came to Dorne to make a peace.! Now another</i><br />
<i>comes to make a war, and my brother will be her king and consort.! King Quentyn.</i> Why did that sound<br />
so silly?"<br />
Almost as silly as Quentyn riding on a dragon." Her brother was an earnest boy, well-behaved<br />
and dutiful, but dull. <i>And plain, so plain.</i> The gods had given Arianne the beauty she had prayed for,<br />
but Quentyn must have prayed for something else." His head was overlarge and sort of square, his hair<br />
the color of dried mud." His shoulders slumped as well, and he was too thick about the middle." <i>He</i><br />
<i>looks too much like Father.</i><br />
"I love my brother," said Arianne, though only the moon could hear her." Though if truth be<br />
told, she scarcely knew him." Quentyn had been fostered by Lord Anders of House Yronwood, the<br />
Bloodroyal, the son of Lord Ormond Yronwood and grandson of Lord Edgar." In his youth her uncle<br />
Oberyn had fought a duel with Edgar, had given him a wound that mortified and killed him." Afterward<br />
men called him ‘the Red Viper,’ and spoke of poison on his blade." The Yronwoods were an ancient<br />
house, proud and powerful." Before the coming of the Rhoynar they had been kings over half of Dorne,<br />
with domains that dwarfed those of House Martell." Blood feud and rebellion would surely have<br />
followed Lord Edgar’s death, had not her father acted at once." The Red Viper went to Oldtown, thence<br />
across to the narrow sea to Lys, though none dared call it exile." And in due time, Quentyn was given to<br />
Lord Anders to foster as a sign of trust." That helped to heal the breach between Sunspear and the<br />
Yronwoods, but it had opened new ones between Quentyn and the Sand Snakes… and Arianne had<br />
always been closer to her cousins than to her distant brother.<br />
"We are still the same blood, though," she whispered." "Of course I want my brother home." I<br />
do."" The wind off the sea was raising gooseprickles all up and down her arms." Arianne pulled her<br />
cloak about herself, and went off to seek her bed.<br />
Their ship was called the <i>Peregrine</i>." They sailed upon the morning tide." The gods were good<br />
to them, the sea calm." Even with good winds, the crossing took a day and a night." Jayne Ladybright<br />
grew greensick and spent most of the voyage spewing, which Elia Sand seemed to find hilarious."<br />
"Someone needs to spank that child," Joss Hood was heard to say… but Elia was amongst those who<br />
heard him say it."<br />
"I am almost a woman grown, ser," she responded haughtily." "I’ll let you spank me, though…<br />
but first you’ll need to tilt with me, and knock me off my horse."<br />
"We are on a ship, and without horses," Joss replied.<br />
"And ladies do not joust," insisted Ser Garibald Shells, a far more serious and proper young<br />
man than his companion.<br />
"I do." I’m Lady Lance."<br />
Arianne had heard enough." "You may be a lance, but you are no lady." Go below and stay<br />
there till we reach land."<br />
Elsewise the crossing was uneventful." At dusk they spied a galley in the distance, her oars<br />
rising and falling against the evening stars, but she was moving away from them, and soon dwindled<br />
and was gone." Arianne played a game of cyvasse with Ser Daemon, and another one with Garibald<br />
Shells, and somehow managed to lose both." Ser Garibald was kind enough to say that she played a<br />
gallant game, but Daemon mocked her." "You have other pieces beside the dragon, princess." Try<br />
moving them sometime."<br />
"I like the dragon."" She wanted to slap the smile off his face." Or kiss it off, perhaps." The<br />
man was as smug as he was comely. <i>Of all the knights in Dorne, why did my father chose this one to</i><br />
<i>be my shield?! He knows our history.</i> "It is just a game." Tell me of Prince Viserys."<br />
"The Beggar King?"" Ser Daemon seemed surprised."<br />
"Everyone says that Prince Rhaegar was beautiful." Was Viserys beautiful as well?"<br />
"I suppose." He was Targaryen." I never saw the man."<br />
The secret pact that Prince Doran had made all those years called for Arianne to be wed to<br />
Prince Viserys, not Quentyn to Daenerys." It had all come undone on the Dothraki sea, when he was<br />
murdered." <i>Crowned with a pot of molten gold</i>." "He was killed by a Dothraki khal," said Arianne."<br />
"The dragon queen’s own husband."<br />
"So I’ve heard." What of it?"<br />
"Just… why did Daenerys let it happen?" Viserys was her brother." All that remained of her<br />
own blood."<br />
"The Dothraki are a savage folk." Who can know why they kill?" Perhaps Viserys wiped his<br />
arse with the wrong hand."<br />
<i>Perhaps</i>, thought Arianne, <i>or perhaps Daenerys realized that once her brother was crowned</i><br />
<i>and wed to me, she would be doomed to spend the rest of her life sleeping in a tent and smelling like a</i><br />
<i>horse.</i> "She is the Mad King’s daughter," the princess said." "How do we do know — "<br />
"We cannot know," Ser Daemon said." "We can only hope."</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-41409906868395984442013-07-14T14:38:00.000+02:002014-03-10T15:10:11.973+01:00Robert Galbraith aka J. K. Rowling<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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La notizia è di quelle da mozzare il fiato: J.K. Rowling ha già pubblicato un nuovo romanzo, e lo ha fatto usando uno pseudonimo!<br />
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“Speravo di poter mantenere il segreto per ancora un po’. Essere Robert Galbraith è stato molto liberatorio” ha dichiarato J.K. Rowling, scoperta dal <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/10178344/JK-Rowling-unmasked-as-author-of-acclaimed-detective-novel.html" target="_blank">The Telegraph</a>.<br />
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Il libro è stato accolto benissimo prima ancora che venisse rivelato il nome dell'autrice. Scrivere con uno pseudonimo è stato un po' un banco di prova per la Rowling e adesso ci si aspettano traduzioni in tutto il mondo.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Il bello è che secondo l’etimologia Robert Galbraith corrisponde a “famoso estraneo". Amo questa autrice.<br />
<br />
The Cuckoo's Calling, se non ce la fate ad aspettare la traduzione, <a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/1408703998/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=1408703998&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21" target="_blank">potete comprarlo su Amazon</a>.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-21553046030555349602013-05-28T14:30:00.001+02:002014-03-10T15:10:26.354+01:00Comprare libri di case editrici fallite, o sull'orlo del fallimento<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Comprare libri di case editrici fallite, o sull'orlo del fallimento, con la speranza che prima o poi risorgano dalle loro ceneri.<br />
<br />
L'unica sistema per comprare questo libro è <a href="http://www.amazon.it/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&field-keywords=marco%20tropea%20editore&linkCode=ur2&tag=micponsjou-21&url=search-alias%3Daps" target="_blank">prenderlo online</a>, che purtroppo la distribuzione sta ritirando tutte le copie cartacee dalle librerie.
L'edizione è molto bella, elegante e con alette bianche. Il costo è di 13 €, ma qui su Internet si trova anche a di meno. Un prezzo fattibile.
Se vi dovessero interessare i libri di Marco Tropea Editore sbrigatevi a comprarli, il catalogo era davvero niente male e sarebbe uno spreco mandare tutta questa cultura al macero.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
PS: su Facebook c'è un albergo che sulla fan page (l'ultimo aggiornamento risale a un milione di anni fa) prova a chiedere a questo editore i soldi della loro permanenza a Torino. Ciò è tristissimo.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-66498776968977776362013-04-25T16:44:00.001+02:002014-01-15T10:57:17.414+01:00L'8x8 sbarca a Bologna prima della finale al Salone internazionale del libro di Torino<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In un futuro non troppo remoto non mi dispiacerebbe vedere l'8x8 in tv insieme a tutti i più conosciuti talent show, perché alla fine di questo si tratta, un talent show. Lo immagino con gli autori seduti su una sedia di fianco a degli attori che leggono i loro scritti che ha sua volta a fianco hanno un accompagnamento musicale di un qualche artista anch'esso emergente. Sarebbe una bella vetrina per tutti: lo scrittore, l'attore e il cantante. Sogno ad occhi aperti, lo so.<br />
<br />
Ho perso il conteggio del numero delle volte che ho seguito questo evento, e ogni volta ci vado con la seguente motivazione: i consigli che gli esperti del settore danno sono utilissimi. Non mi fido troppo delle scuole di scrittura - argomento che genera tantissime polemiche; io preferirei chiamarle "scuole di tecniche di scrittura", perché ti possono insegnare come impostare un romanzo o un racconto, ma scriverlo è un'altra cosa - e gli unici soldi che spendo per questo tipo di informazioni li do ad una rivista che mi faccio spedire dagli USA, il <a href="http://www.writersdigest.com/" target="_blank">Writer's Digest</a>. Quindi quando tra le mani mi capita di riuscire ad ottenere qualcosa di qualità gratuitamente, non mi lascio sfuggire l'occasione.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Leggi i racconti <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/136892411/8x8-quinta-serata-2013" target="_blank">qui</a>.<br />
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<a href="http://www.oblique.it/eventi_8x8.html">www.oblique.it/eventi_8x8.html</a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Francesca Ricci, <i>Francesco</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxym_18yboqgYxhV93AGzOEqAP_KWGJANQaDiMxEp1Sqglmb94_EyegxgDkfeQfQinwFocKOYh9U2oqXSdW0tyPEs0wANEtb_0iQ0v7CPoY5TOljIbzJVYacf20QTp5pBrlP1JSiHwO1A/s1600/IMG_7455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxym_18yboqgYxhV93AGzOEqAP_KWGJANQaDiMxEp1Sqglmb94_EyegxgDkfeQfQinwFocKOYh9U2oqXSdW0tyPEs0wANEtb_0iQ0v7CPoY5TOljIbzJVYacf20QTp5pBrlP1JSiHwO1A/s400/IMG_7455.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susanna Bacci, <i>Le signorine Biagiotti</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikus3EZT9Qp-ROSirArELll7UJZqAOU9pqjNTgiSvMV4Cp00QiEkg7uK9YpfvxNewo43t_fLIHs2sx8lwOU29dVoqj5y8fr0c0_zkXdhycGpXM0TVGEmh8rmNgEuFnmKNe8MjeCj3P5Bo/s1600/IMG_7461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikus3EZT9Qp-ROSirArELll7UJZqAOU9pqjNTgiSvMV4Cp00QiEkg7uK9YpfvxNewo43t_fLIHs2sx8lwOU29dVoqj5y8fr0c0_zkXdhycGpXM0TVGEmh8rmNgEuFnmKNe8MjeCj3P5Bo/s400/IMG_7461.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elvis Malaj, <i>Mrika</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrea Cavalieri, <i>La cena</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Domitilla Pirro, <i>Sote'</i>, <b>LA VINCITRICE DELLA SERATA</b></td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-38554476787757564772013-04-18T13:15:00.000+02:002014-03-10T15:10:40.683+01:00Le cover di "Paranormalmente" di Kiersten White<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Questa saga non l'ho mai letta, né ho tra i piani di leggerla: troppi impegni, libri accumulati e anche con la scusa che è <i>vagamente</i> rivolta a un pubblico femminile la snobbo un po', però mi tocca ammettere che le cover sono stupende. <b>Bisognerebbe stringere la mani ai grafici e ai disegnatori Giunti uno ad uno.</b> Qualsiasi loro libro è attraente, e quando si tratta di una saga danno il meglio: stessa impostazione grafica per tutti i romanzi e qualità eccellente. Te ne ricordi uno e nel mucchio riconosci tutti gli altri.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3UwhF7qB4ltOnpx4t2hR5IskrlJQit4pm_Jfz6rEkkArkvtYyAMr5Q88yyJ2Y3M_hVGuezU7ybhyphenhyphen_xgvb_QgoDyE_RlWguXWSuwvfGHQmZtS7klCGS24rteCJ9VvrLe0Nw0UcH4EIwac/s1600/senza_fine_Paranormalmente-Kiersten_White.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3UwhF7qB4ltOnpx4t2hR5IskrlJQit4pm_Jfz6rEkkArkvtYyAMr5Q88yyJ2Y3M_hVGuezU7ybhyphenhyphen_xgvb_QgoDyE_RlWguXWSuwvfGHQmZtS7klCGS24rteCJ9VvrLe0Nw0UcH4EIwac/s400/senza_fine_Paranormalmente-Kiersten_White.jpg" width="280" /></a><a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8809770757/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8809770757&linkCode=as2&tag=micponsjou-21"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKtww2Jt8E4orCnLDzZCqGZN98Rsg4pEzKFOqXH5bolFH5S12h4smNBmoXDCZRv2HODN1s-FSsTs09CPXff8IA6ay_QShlnD4vm7Jdvjm7kZQCMHGoctnqX90XLI489L5n-fXiFSq3A44/s400/caccia+alle+fate_Paranormalmente-Kiersten_White.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOqVu5vYlSHoLhC0Ckp8bMymaHeWYIPFQixLUz7gD-R2H5jhaoteJZHeICJ_1S_SXjoMzbv4sjKwlHjIwUitAbe6VyB2_OrNfSazSVjFR_SoDF65vVNgXPNOfEzoV9k0ZWM7YD4NIGoQU/s400/paranormalcy-Paranormalmente-Kiersten_White.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6238246172077456682.post-3175816705548137152013-04-17T15:44:00.005+02:002014-03-10T15:10:55.167+01:00Recensione de "Il peso del tempo"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><i>Il peso del tempo </i></b>è
la prima prova di narrativa dello scrittore Lutz Seiler, in origine
poeta (e vincitore anche di numerosi premi) e saggista (di opere
ritenute molto romanzate).<br />
Come mai la scelta di passare al racconto? Molto semplice, racconta
durante la presentazione romana: tre anni prima di riuscire nella
stesura e pubblicazione di questa raccolta, leggendo romanzi di altri
autori si accorse che la sfida è alla sua portata. Tutt’altra cosa si
rivelò, però, la scrittura: pur dotato degli strumenti per creare poesie
e dell’abilità per scrivere saggi, apprendere e usare con disinvoltura
le tecniche della narrazione e della narrativa non è stato il gioco da
ragazzi che potrebbe spesso e erroneamente sembrare. “Infatti – ha
aggiunto durante il reading – per scrivere questo libro ci ho messo due
anni”.<br />
<b>Con grande maestria, Seiler riesce a raccontare e a mischiare
un po’ di storia, un po’ di autobiografia, un po’ di finzione. I
racconti ne giovato quanto il panorama letterario italiano: splendide
storie ambientate</b> nella Germania dell’est prima e dopo la
caduta del muro di Berlino o un improbabile viaggio su un treno diretto
verso il Kazakistan, brevi narrazioni per un’antologia d’esordio
particolarmente convincente.<br />
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<b>La maggiore qualità di Seiler, tuttavia, è riuscire a raccontare storie all’interno di altre storie</b>, cosa che si può subito notare nel racconto più lungo, <i>Il bacio sul cappuccio</i>,
dove il protagonista, tra improbabili attese prima di entrare a scuola,
si immerge in se stesso e nei propri pensieri, senza che il filo della
trama vada perso. Negli intensi scritti di Seiler c’è una tale ricchezza
tematica che ci si aspetta che le pagine continuino a crescere fino a
assumere lo spessore di un romanzo. Chissà che non sarà questo un nuovo
traguardo da raggiungere. Inoltre tutti i suoi personaggi hanno la colpa
di essere diversi, come accadeva nei grandi classici di inizio ’900.<br />
In Italia, come nel resto del mondo, i racconti difficilmente entrano nelle classifiche dei bestseller. Nonostante ciò <b>Del Vecchio editore</b> ha
deciso di scommettere andando a creare una collana, inaugurata proprio
da questo volume. Il prossimo titolo, in uscita il 18 febbraio 2012,
sarà <i><a href="http://www.delvecchioeditore.it/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=176&Itemid=24" target="_blank">Prigioni e paradisi</a></i>, di <a href="http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colette">Sidonie Gabrielle Colette</a> (Saint–Sauveur–en–Puisaye
1873 – Parigi 1954), una delle maggiori scrittrici del novecento
francese. Auguriamo fortuna e longevità… editoriale.<br />
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<i><b>Il peso del tempo</b></i><br />
<i>Die Zeitwaage<br />
</i>Traduzione: Paola Del Zoppo<br />
Pagine: 240<br />
Editore: <a href="http://www.delvecchioeditore.it/" target="_blank">Del Vecchio</a>, 2011<br />
Prezzo: 15,00 €<br />
<br />
<i>Compra il libro <a href="http://www.amazon.it/gp/product/8861100414/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=micponsjou-21&linkCode=as2&camp=3370&creative=24114&creativeASIN=8861100414" target="_blank">qui</a>.</i><br />
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Scrissi questo articolo tanto tempo fa per il settimanale <a href="http://www.fuorilemura.com/" target="_blank"><i>Fuori le mura</i></a>.<i> </i><br />
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PS: il libro autografato lo regalai all'amica che era venuta alla presentazione con me.<i> </i> </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0