Dust: A Novel

Գրքի շապիկի երեսը
Random House Worlds, 26 դեկ, 2007 թ. - 368 էջ
On a broken ship orbiting a doomed sun, dwellers have grown complacent with their aging metal world. But when a serving girl frees a captive noblewoman, the old order is about to change....

Ariane, Princess of the House of Rule, was known to be fiercely cold-blooded. But severing an angel’s wings on the battlefield—even after she had surrendered—proved her completely without honor. Captive, the angel Perceval waits for Ariane not only to finish her off—but to devour her very memories and mind. Surely her gruesome death will cause war between the houses—exactly as Ariane desires. But Ariane’s plan may yet be opposed, for Perceval at once recognizes the young servant charged with her care.

Rien is the lost child: her sister. Soon they will escape, hoping to stop the impending war and save both their houses. But it is a perilous journey through the crumbling hulk of a dying ship, and they do not pass unnoticed. Because at the hub of their turning world waits Jacob Dust, all that remains of God, following the vapor wisp of the angel. And he knows they will meet very soon.

From inside the book

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Բովանդակություն

Բաժին 1
1
Բաժին 2
10
Բաժին 3
19
Բաժին 4
28
Բաժին 5
37
Բաժին 6
49
Բաժին 7
58
Բաժին 8
72
Բաժին 17
180
Բաժին 18
185
Բաժին 19
195
Բաժին 20
207
Բաժին 21
215
Բաժին 22
232
Բաժին 23
244
Բաժին 24
260

Բաժին 9
86
Բաժին 10
94
Բաժին 11
105
Բաժին 12
113
Բաժին 13
126
Բաժին 14
136
Բաժին 15
149
Բաժին 16
161
Բաժին 25
270
Բաժին 26
287
Բաժին 27
302
Բաժին 28
317
Բաժին 29
323
Բաժին 30
343
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Այլ խմբագրություններ - View all

Common terms and phrases

Սիրված հատվածներ

Էջ 232 - The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Էջ 19 - Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth ; I love your majesty According to my bond ; no more, nor less.
Էջ 244 - Those masterful images because complete Grew in pure mind, but out of what began? A mound of refuse or the sweepings of a street, Old kettles, old bottles, and a broken can, Old iron, old bones, old rags, that raving slut Who keeps the till. Now that my ladder's gone, I must lie down where all the ladders start, In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart.
Էջ 28 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Էջ 58 - DUST WHEN the white flame in us is gone, And we that lost the world's delight Stiffen in darkness, left alone To crumble in our separate night; When your swift hair is quiet in death, And through the lips corruption thrust Has stilled the labour of my breath — When we are dust, when we are dust! — Not dead, not undesirous yet, Still sentient, still unsatisfied, We'll ride the air, and shine, and flit, Around the places where we died, And...
Էջ 185 - Because these wings are no longer wings to fly But merely vans to beat the air The air which is now thoroughly small and dry Smaller and dryer than the will Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.
Էջ 287 - At the second turning of the second stair I left them twisting, turning below; There were no more faces and the stair was dark, Damp, jagged, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond repair, Or the toothed gullet of an aged shark.
Էջ 317 - FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ...
Էջ 94 - ... and on the shingle strewn, Her fluttering hand against her forehead pressed, Her scattered looks that trouble all the sky, Her rapid footsteps running down the west — Of all her altered state, oblivious lie! Whom earthen you, by deathless lips adored, Wild-eyed and stammering to the grasses thrust, And deep into her crystal body poured The hot and sorrowful sweetness of the dust: Whereof she wanders mad, being all unfit For mortal love, that might not die of it.

Հեղինակի մասին (2007)

Elizabeth Bear was born on the same say as Frodo and Bilbo Baggins, but in a different year. This, coupled with her childhood tendency to read the dictionary for fun, has led inevitably to penury, intransigence, and the writing of speculative fiction. Her hobbies include incompetent archery, practicing guitar, and reading biographies of Elizabethan playmenders.

She is the recipient of the John W. Campbell Award for best New Writer and the author of over a dozen published or forthcoming novels, including the Locus Award-winning Jenny Casey trilogy and the Phillip K. Dick Award-nominated Carnival. A native New Englander, she spent seven years near Las Vegas, but now lives in Connecticut with a presumptuous cat.

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