I don’t remember who it was who recommended I read this book, but I DO remember that it was more than one person. So good job, all of you.
The thing about well-translated works is that they sing in
the second language as well as in the first, and this is a VERY well translated
work. As an at-one-time fluent Spanish speaker, I have a soft spot in my heart
for Spanish idioms and expressions, which Lucia Graves has maintained to my
UTTER DELIGHT.
I dunno what you might have heard, or whether you might have
(like I did) mixed this book up with Patrick Rothfuss’s The Name of the Wind, which is an honest mistake because seriously,
authors, get your naming conventions together. But if what you probably have
heard is anything like what I heard about this book, you might be shocked to
find out that the somewhat fantastical novel you expected – full of Cemeteries
of Forgotten Books and whimsical quests to keep books alive is, in fact, NOT
THAT THING. Instead, you will discover a Gothic romance complete with what may
as well be Laurentina’s skeleton behind a tattered curtain.
 |
| Soooo scaaaaary! |
In 1945, Daniel chooses a book on his 10th
birthday from the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. He is promptly accosted by many
people who want the book, for mostly nefarious reasons, and the plot unfolds
from there like the Marauder’s Map – all bits over here and a folded part over
there, that come together to make a whole picture, but not of Hogwarts.
 |
| More's the pity. |
Daniel goes along, finding stuff out about the author of the
book and falling in and out and in and out of love along the way as he grows
older. And it’s so, so beautifully written that when it drags about 2/3 of the
way through you won’t mind much, and when you slowly narrow down the various
culprits juuuust ahead of Daniel, you’ll be smug, and when it ends, you’ll be
pleased to know that it’s part of a trilogy.
The second book of which is waiting for me at el biblioteca
right now.
8 of 11 Brains Rotted by Reading, Just Like that Sancho
Panza
