The Original - The Prince and the Pauper - Mark Twain. Classic Historical Fiction. Top 100 Historical Fiction. The Prince and the Pauper is a novel by American author Mark Twain. On the same day in 16th century London were born Tom Canty, destined to become a street beggar, and Edward Tudor, son of Henry VII, a future king. Several years later, young Canty invades the royal precincts hoping to see the Prince. The boys discover they are identical in appearance and exchange clothes. Mistaken for the beggar boy, Prince Edward is thrown into the streets. Tom Canty, too frightened to confess his true identity, assumes the mantle of the Prince of Wales.

Continuarea bestsellerului Tuturor b?ie?ilor pe care i-am iubit Lara Jean nu se a?tepta s? se ?ndr?gosteasc? de-adev?ratelea de Peter. ?Doar se pref?ceau c? sunt iubi?i, dar apoi lucrurile au devenit serioase. Acum ea nu mai ?tie ce s? cread?. C?nd un b?iat din trecut se ?ntoarce ?n via?a ei, Lara Jean ??i reg?se?te sentimentele pentru el. Oare o fat? poate s? fie ?ndr?gostit? de doi b?ie?i ?n acela?i timp? ?n aceast? continuare sensibil? ?i emo?ionant? a bestsellerului interna?ional Tuturor b?ie?ilor pe care i-am iubit (Ed. Trei, 2015) vedem iubirea prin ochii frumoasei Lara Jean. Dragostea nu e niciodat? u?oar?, dar poate c? asta o face at?t de minunat? ?Felul de a fi al Larei Jean – cu capul ?n nori, timid?, capabil? de emo?ii puternice ?i complet naiv? c?nd vine vorba de b?ie?i – spore?te farmecul acestei pove?ti.“ – Publishers Weekly ?O emo?ionant? explorare a iubirii adolescentine.“ – Kirkus Reviews ?Oamenii vin ?i pleac? din via?a ta. Pentru o vreme, ei sunt ?ntregul t?u univers, sunt totul. ?i ?ntr-o zi ?nceteaz? s? mai fie a?a. N-ai de unde s? ?tii c?t timp ?i vei putea avea l?ng? tine.“

Una dintre cele mai intense poveti de dragoste despre adolesceni pe care le-am citit vreodat.“ – David Levithan De cnd se tie, elul lui Wren Gray a fost s-i mulumeasc prinii. Lucru care nu a deranjat-o, dimpotriv. Acum ns a mplinit 18 ani i simte nevoia s-i mplineasc propriile dorine... doar c nu prea tie care sunt. n schimb, Charlie Parker tie exact care e dorina sa cea mai mare. Charlie e un biat blnd cu un trecut dureros – i a iubit-o pe Wren de cnd a vzut-o prima dat. Dar o fat ca Wren nu s-ar ndrgosti niciodat de un tip ca el. i totui... unele lucruri sunt scrise n stele. Romantic, senzual i att de adevrat – o poveste de neuitat despre prima iubire de la una dintre cele mai bune autoare de adult fiction ale momentului. O poveste de dragoste n acelai timp delicat i plin de pasiune.“ – Kirkus Reviews Relaia dintre personajele lui Lauren Myracle e bazat pe dragoste, respect i ncredere.“ – Publishers Weekly Lauren Myracle mbin tandreea cu erotismul.“ – School Library Journal Miercuri, Charlie trecuse prin ultima zi de coal ca i cnd s-ar fi aflat ntr-o negur. Toi ceilali erau entuziasmai la gndul c vara ncepea n mod oficial, ns Charlie nu-i dorea s vin vacana. El i-o dorea pe Wren. ns, dac nu avea de gnd s prind curaj i s acioneze – de pild, s poarte o conversaie mai lung de cinci cuvinte cu ea, n numele lui Dumnezeu! –, era sortit eecului. Wren urma s-i vad de drumul ei imediat dup ceremonia de absolvire de smbt i exista posibilitatea ca Charlie s nu o mai vad niciodat.“

Maestrul Benedict Blackthorn, membru de vaz? al Breslei Spi?erilor, este pe cale s? descopere cea mai de seam? re?et? a tuturor timpurilor: cea prin care se ob?ine Focul Arhanghelului – puterea suprem? pe P?m?nt. Pe urmele lui se afl? un coleg de breasl?, care vrea s? fure re?eta ?i s? foloseasc? Focul pentru ?nl?turarea regelui Carol de pe tronul Angliei. C?nd Maestrul Benedict simte c? este ?n pericol de moarte, ?i ?ncredin?eaz? ucenicului s?u Christopher Rowe misiunea de a salva re?eta ?i, totodat?, via?a ?i tronul lui Carol, precum ?i soarta Angliei. ?Un debut spectaculos. “- Kirkus Reviews ?Magie, aventur? ?i multe chestii care explodeaz? – ador cartea asta! “- Eoin Colfer ?Kevin Sands a creat un erou ambi?ios, inimos ?i plin de umor ?n Christopher Rowe, ucenicul spi?erului. Aceast? aventur? palpitant? v? va captiva. “- Ingrid Law ??ns? re?etele noi nu pic? din cer. Trebuie s? le descoperi. Asta cere zile, luni, chiar ani ?ntregi de munc? grea. ?i cost? o avere: ingredientele, instrumentele, c?rbunele pentru ?ntre?inut focul, ghea?a pentru r?cit. Mai presus de toate, era primejdios. Focuri p?rjolitoare. Metale topite. Elixiruri care miroseau dulceag, dar care ??i devorau m?runtaiele. Tincturi care p?reau inofensive, ca apa, dar emanau vapori invizibili. La fiecare experiment nou, ??i primejduiai via?a. A?adar, o re?et? care func?iona era mai pre?ioas? dec?t aurul." ?Debutantul Sands a scris o poveste incitant? despre alchimie ?i secrete ad?nc ?ngropate. Kevin Sands alterneaz? abil p?r?ile mai ?ntunecate ale romanului cu momente de umor ?i destindere, ad?ug?nd detalii picante ?n descrierea personajelor ?i a contextului istoric. To?i cei interesa?i de chimie, istorie, puzzle-uri complicate ar trebui s? citeasc? romanul. “- Publishers Weekly

Al treilea volum al seriei Clubul fetelor dependente de ciocolat? ?nc? o poveste delicioas? din seria Clubul fetelor dependente de ciocolat?, al?turi de Pasiunea lui Cherry ?i Cuf?rul lui Skye. Summer s-a visat dintotdeauna dansatoare ?i, c?nd apare un loc la ?coala de balet, ?i-l dore?te dureros de tare. Gimnaziul se termin? ?i ?ncepe vacan?a dar, spre deosebire de geam?na Skye ?i de celelalte surori, Summer nu are timp de petreceri pe plaj?. Audi?ia devine noua ei obsesie, iar lucrurile ?ncep s? scape grav de sub control... Cu c?t ?ncearc? mai mult s? ating? perfec?iunea, cu at?t se pierde mai tare. Va realiza Summer – cu ajutorul b?iatului care vrea s?-i fie mai mult dec?t prieten – c? visurile vin ?n tot felul de forme ?i m?rimi? ?Emo?ionant, tandru, de neuitat.“ – The Guardian ?Fiica mea era o cititoare foarte selectiv?, a?a c? am vrut s? scriu c?r?i pe care s? nu le lase din m?n?, pove?ti care s? o fac? s? viseze, s?-?i pun? ?ntreb?ri, s? mediteze ?i – de ce nu? – s? ?n?eleag? mai bine via?a.“ – Cathy Cassidy ?Sora mea ro?e?te p?n? ?n albul ochilor ?i pare c? ?i-a pierdut cu des?v?r?ire darul vorbirii. (...) Apoi r?de cu gura p?n? la urechi, iar Finch ?i ?ntoarce un z?mbet la fel de luminos. ?n clipa ?n care noi celelalte sim?im miros de ars, e greu de spus dac? acesta vine de la privirile lor electrizate, ori de la fierul de c?lcat pe care Skye l-a abandonat pe unul dintre cele mai bune furouri vintage ale ei.“

Ce ai face dac? ai g?si o carte ce te-ar provoca la un joc de-a v-a?i ascunselea cu indicii? Ai accepta provocarea sau ai pune cartea ?napoi ?n raft? ? Lily a l?sat ?n raftul libr?riei preferate din New York un jurnal plin de provoc?ri, care a?teapt? s? fie g?sit de b?iatul potrivi. Acesta este Dash, un adolescent ?n v?rst? de 17 ani, pasionat de c?r?i ?i cu o repulsie nem?rginit? fa?? de tot ce ?nseamn? s?rb?toarea Cr?ciunului. El accept? regulile jocului fetei. Dar sunt ei f?cu?i unul pentru cel?lalt? De?i par a se potrivi perfect ?n ceea ce prive?te exprimarea ?n scris, ?nt?lnirile lor nu sunt lipsite de surprize ?i le pun ?n pericol rela?ia ?nc? dinainte ca aceasta s? se ?nfiripe. ? Rachel Cohn ?i David Levithan au scris o poveste de dragoste care ?i va face pe tineri s? scotoceasc? prin rafturile libr?riilor, c?ut?nd ?i t?njind dup? o iubire (?i un jurnal) care s? fie numai a lor. ? “Cititorii vor fi ?nc?nta?i de limbajul spumos ?i de r?sturn?rile amuzante de situa?ie.“ Publishers Weekly ? “Sim?eam nevoia s?-i absorb numele, ?n timp ce cl?titele absorbeau untul ?i siropul. Abia dac?-mi mai aminteam cum ar?ta; imaginea lui era ?nconjurat? de o p?cl? de culoarea ?ampaniei, dulceag? ?i difuz?, neclar?. ?mi aminteam c? era mai degrab? ?nalt, cu p?rul bine tuns ?i proasp?t piept?nat, c? purta blugi ?i o jachet? marin?reasc? de l?n?, posibil de epoc?, ?i c? mirosea a b?iat, dar la modul pl?cut, nu la cel sc?rbos. ?i mai avea ?i cei mai alba?tri ochi din lume, ?i gene lungi, negre, aproape ca ale unei fete.“

A?i auzit de statul Khalaab al Amouk? Fi?i pe pace, nici San Antonio nu auzise ?nainte de noua lui misiune. Cu at?t mai pu?in fidelul s?u Bérurier, totu?i un fin cunosc?tor al at?tor lucruri, precum soiurile franceze de br?nz? ?i deloc elegantele lovituri pugilistice, ?mp?r?ite cu m?rinimie, ?i unele, ?i celelalte, b??tina?ilor (khalaabagii, pe numele lor). Imaginea Enormit??ii-Sale Béru c?lare pe c?mil?, str?b?t?nd de?ertul, ?l va face de ru?ine pe Don Quijote. ?inta le este palatul emirului Obolan, care nu i ascunde numai pe cei doi agen?i francezi care trebuie elibera?i, ci ?i un a????tor harem, ?n care, dup? cum lesne pute?i b?nui, glorio?ii salvatori vor fi ispiti?i s? dea iama. Cum, vai, nu i pute?i urma ?n desf?t?rile sexuale, v? r?m?n, deloc de lep?dat, cele textuale.Mai multe detalii pe san-antonio.ro

Dac? ?nc? nu a?i aflat la ce folose?te o linie de metrou care nu duce nic?ieri, dac? sunte?i curio?i s? ?ti?i de ce unii oameni ??i devoreaz? soacrele ?n ziua nun?ii lor de argint ?i ?n ce const? deosebirea fundamental? dintre englezi ?i francezi, e timpul s? c?l?tori?i pe insula Miserupe din Arhipelagul Mitocanilor. ?mpreun? cu San-Antonio ?i Bérurier, afla?i de data asta ?n ?nalta societate a mini?trilor ?i a sini?trilor, a unui vraci ?i a unei regine de dimensiuni apocaliptice care-l face pe Enormul s? par? un b?rbat sub?ire. Iar dac? vi se pare c? intriga acestui roman e prea ingenioas?, r?sturn?rile de situa?ie prea nea?teptate, comisarul prea simpatic, iar limbajul lui Bérurier de un comic delirant, nu pute?i ?nvinui pe nimeni – doar ?ine?i ?n m?n? o carte de San-Antonio.Mai multe detalii pe san-antonio.ro

O t?n?r? care ??i pune prietenul s-o ?ncuie ?ntr-o cu?c? ?n propria ei buc?t?rie; un b?rbat locuind singur pe o planet? ?ndep?rtat? dintr-o galaxie necunosct?; un scriitor ?nc?run?it, ?ntr-un pat cu gratii, devenit piesa principal? a arhivei propriei sale opere postume; ?i mai e ?i Lilly, care, ?dup? o zi lung? ?i grea la birou, a constatat c? i-au crescut aripi pe omopla?i: ni?te excrescen?e de piele roz murdar, cu un aspect vulnerabil, care-i d?deau m?nc?rimi ca acelea ale ?n?ep?turilor de ??n?ar“. Sunt doar c?teva dintre personajele stranii ale acestui volum de proz? scurt? al t?n?rului scriitor austriac Clemens J. Setz. La apari?ie, Dragostea ?n vremea Copilului din Mahlstadt a fost o revela?ie pentru critic? ?i public deopotriv?, prin fine?ea ?i rafinamentul limbajului, prin iscusin?a cu care scriitorul ??i pune personajele s? se descurce ?n situa?ii bizare sau de-a dreptul grote?ti, prin inser?iile nea?teptate de fantastic ?i comic ?ntr-un cotidian marcat de banalitatea ?i stresul obliga?iilor sociale.

De la autorul bestsellerului Zi dup? zi. Pentru Rhiannon fiecare zi este la fel. S-a resemnat cu via?a ei, convins? fiind c? ?l merit? pe Justin, iubitul ei distant ?i temperamental. P?n? ?ntr-o diminea?? c?nd totul se schimb?. Pentru prima dat?, Justin pare s? o vad? cu adev?rat, s? fie ?mpreun? cu ea – ?i petrec o zi perfect? – o zi pe care Justin nu ?i-o mai aminte?te ?n diminea?a urm?toare. Trist? ?i confuz?, Rhiannon pune totul la ?ndoial?. Pe nea?teptate, un str?in ?i spune c? acel Justin cu care a petrecut o zi perfect? ?i care a f?cut-o s? se simt? special?... nu e deloc Justin. ?nc? o zi, cartea-pereche a bestsellerului New York Times Zi dup? zi, spune povestea din perspectiva lui Rhiannon, care ?ncearc? s? descopere adev?rul despre dragoste ?i felul cum acest adev?r te poate schimba pentru totdeauna. ?O poveste ce ne face s? p?trundem ad?nc ?n min?ile personajelor. De?i Levithan consider? c? ?nc? o zi e geam?nul romanului s?u precedent, Zi dup? zi, noua sa carte are o identitate separat?, bine definit? ?i poate fi citit? independent.“ – Booklist ?Nu simt nicio ?ntrebare – doar r?spunsuri. Nu simt fric?, ci ?mplinire. ?l s?rut ?i balansul nostru perfect continu?, r?sufl?rile noastre se fac una. ?nchid ochii ?i simt ap?sarea familiar? a buzelor lui, gustul familiar al gurii lui. ?nsa acum ceva e altfel. Nu doar ne s?rut?m cu trupurile noastre ?ntregi, ci ?i cu ceva mai mare dec?t trupurile, cu ceea ce suntem ?i cu ceea ce vom fi.“

Nominalizat la Carnegie Award 2009, c??tig?tor al Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize 2008, James Tiptree Junior Award ?i Booktrust Teenage Prize 2008. Todd Hewitt e ultimul b?iat din Prentisstown, un ora? mai pu?in obi?nuit. Oamenii pot auzi ce g?ndesc ceilal?i. Tot timpul. Via?a lor se desf??oar? ?ntr-un cople?itor ?i ne?ncetat Vacarm; nu exist? intimitate, nici secrete. Chiar cu o lun? ?nainte de a ?mplini 13 ani, dat? la care ar urma s? devin? b?rbat, Todd descoper? ?nt?mpl?tor un loc lini?tit. F?r? Vacarm. ?ns? un asemenea loc nu poate exista! ?nseamn? c? locuitorii din Prentisstown l-au min?it. ?i acum va trebui s? fug? ca s? se salveze de la moarte... Dar unde s? fugi dac? cei care te urm?resc pot auzi TOT ce g?nde?ti? Un roman ?n tradi?ia Aventurilor lui Huckleberry Finn ?i a capodoperei De veghe ?n lanul de secar?, despre un adolescent care fuge, ?mpreun? cu c?inele s?u vorbitor, Manchee, spre o lume normal?. Chiar dac? asta ?nseamn? s? mearg? p?n? la cap?tul lumii... ?i mai departe. Ness e un scriitor foarte ?nzestrat, de o imprevizibilitate care-?i d? fiori. – The Times Sf?r?itul plin de suspans are efectul unui glon? tras direct ?n stomac. – Booklist Un roman care curge ?ntr-un ritm furios, ?nsp?im?nt?tor, captivant ?i, uneori, sf??ietor. Este o carte care-?i b?ntuie imagina?ia. –Sunday Telegraph ?Nu exist? nimic pe lumea asta ?n afar? de Vacarm, nimic altceva dec?t g?ndurile permanente ale oamenilor ?i toate lucrurile venind la tine ?i la tine ?i la tine, din clipa ?n care spac?ii au dat drumul virusului Vacarmului ?n timpul r?zboiului, un virus care-a ucis jum?tate din b?rba?i ?i toate femeile, inclusiv pe mama mea, un virus care i-a ?nnebunit pe restul b?rba?ilor ?i care a ?nsemnat sf?r?itul pentru tot neamul spac?ilor ?n momentul c?nd oamenii, ?n nebunia lor, au ridicat armele.“

n 1950 Boris Vian public, sub pseudonimul Vernon Sullivan, Femeile nu-i dau seama, un roman-pasti al prozei i stilului de via american ale mijlocului secolului XX. ntr-un discurs n care se vede clar intenia parodic, Vian povestete aventura ntins pe cteva zilei a tnrului de bani gata Francis Deacon, din care nu lipsesc drogurile, femeile, promiscuitatea fr limite, interveniile FBI, urmririle pe ap i pe uscat, travestiul i toate beneficiile materiale pe care America aflat n plin dezvoltare le poate oferi unui tnr dispus s nu fac nicio economie cnd vine vorba de distracie i senzaii tari.

Un nou thriller din seria Helen Grace Cadavrul unui b?rbat este g?sit ?ntr-o cas? goal?. Inima i-a fost scoas? din piept ?i trimis? so?iei ?i copiilor lui. E prima victim?, iar inspectoarea Helen Grace ?tie c? nu va fi ultima. Dar de ce s-ar afla un b?rbat cu o via?? ?mplinit? departe de cas? ?n toiul nop?ii? Presa ?l nume?te Jack Spintec?torul ?n sens invers: un criminal ?n serie, v?n?nd b?rba?i ?nsura?i care duc vie?i duble. Helen simte furia din spatele crimelor. Dar ceea ce nu poate ea s? prevad? este c?t de schimb?tor e criminalul - sau ce o a?teapt? la cap?tul cursei... ?Alert, tensionat, cu adev?rat impresionant!“ – Sun ?Arlidge creeaz? o poveste ce te captiveaz? ?i te ?nsp?im?nt? ?n acela?i timp.“ – Daily Mail ?Un thriller macabru pe care nu-l po?i l?sa din m?n?!“ – Woman and Home ?Deodat? capul i s-a dus pe spate. L-a s?getat o durere insuportabil? – era tras de p?r foarte str?ns, tras ?napoi cu for?a, tot ?napoi. Deja nu mai putea s? respire – o c?rp? ?i astupa gura ?i nasul. O duhoare ?n?ep?toare i-a inundat n?rile, iar reflexele i s-au declan?at prea t?rziu. Se lupta s? tr?iasc?, dar ??i pierdea deja cuno?tin?a. Apoi s-a f?cut ?ntuneric.“

De la autorul bestsellerurilor Ierusalim ?i ?ntr-o noapte de iarn?. O poveste zguduitoare despre pasiune ?i tr?dare, descoperit? ?n arhivele secrete KGB Iarna lui 1916: Sankt Petersburg. Rusia e ?n pragul revolu?iei. ?n fa?a Institutului Smoln?i pentru Fete din ?nalta Societate, Sa?enka, fiica de doar ?aisprezece ani a baronului Zeitlin, este a?teptat? de c?tre guvernanta sa, dar ?i de poli?ia secret? a ?arului... Frumoas? ?i aprig?, Sa?enka este captivat? de noua ideologie bol?evic? ?i intr? ?n jocul periculos al conspira?iei ?i seduc?iei. Dou?zeci de ani mai t?rziu, e c?s?torit? cu un membru de seam? al partidului comunist ?i are doi copii. ?ns? idila interzis? cu un scriitor are consecin?e devastatoare pentru familia sa. ?Aceast? saga surprinde at?t zbuciumul unei elite bol?evice c?zute ?n dizgra?ie, c?t ?i paradoxurile istoriei pe care avem impresia c? o cunoa?tem.“ – The Independent ?Cu frumuse?ea ireal?, cu distinc?ia care trece dincolo de avere sau clas? social? ?i cu idealurile sale sincere care au costat-o at?t de mult, Sa?enka reu?e?te s? ne cucereasc? definitiv.“ – The Spectator ?Montefiore se dovede?te a fi un povestitor inegalabil, cu un stil precis, care te marcheaz?.“ – Wall Street Journal ?Pe coridoarele acestei aripi a ?nchisorii era un du-te-vino continuu: b?rba?i ?i femei erau arunca?i ?n celulele lor, adu?i la interogatorii, trimi?i ?n lunga c?l?torie din exilul siberian. Unii pl?ngeau cu sughi?uri, al?ii dormeau; ?ntreg spectrul vie?ii era adunat aici. Jandarmul din spa?tele ghi?eului ??i tot ?ndrepta privirea c?tre Sa?enka, de parc? aceasta ar fi fost un p?un ?ntr-o cocin? de porci.“

Mai mult viu dec?t mort, comisarul San-Antonio asist? la propria-nmorm?ntare. Apoi, mai mult cu umor dec?t cu ?nd?rjire, b?ntuie Parisul ?n c?utarea celor care l-au ucis un pic, temporar. Semi-asasinii nu se las? u?or prin?i, p?n? c?nd fac gre?eala s-o supere pe mama semi-victimei. ?i gata, soarta lor e pecetluit?: nu te iei de mama lui San-Antonio ?i speri s? scapi basma curat?! E o b?tr?nic? prea simpatic?. San-Antonio e convins c? ea e mai ?nger dec?t dolofanii ?ia mici, picta?i cu aripioare prin biserici.Vremuri grele! Nimic nu mai e ce pare a fi: trafican?ii de droguri sunt patrio?i, spioanele sunt fiice care ?tiu de frica ta?ilor. Nevestele sunt un fel de amante costisitoare, iar culmea rafinamentului pervers ar fi s?-?i iei o amant? doar ca s? te ui?i la ea cum tricoteaz?, dup? ce ?i-a servit o sup?.San-Antonio e de savurat pe ?ndelete, o delicates? pentru adev?ra?ii degust?tori ai genului, cei care ?tiu c? un roman poli?ist te poate cuceri ?i prin umor, rafinamente de limbaj, inteligen?? ?i cultur?, nu doar prin suspans, urm?riri ?i ?mpu?c?turi, chiar dac? are – din bel?ug chiar – ?i aceste ingrediente.Mai multe detalii pe san-antonio.ro

High into air are the great New York buildings lifted by a ray whose source no telescope can find.It seemed only fitting and proper that the greatest of all leaps into space should start from Roosevelt Field, where so many great flights had begun and ended. Fliers whose names had rung—for a space—around the world, had landed here and been received by New York with all the pomp of visiting kings. Fliers had departed here for the lands of kings, to be received by them when their journeys were ended. Of course Lucian Jeter and Tema Eyer were disappointed that Franz Kress had beaten them out in the race to be first into the stratosphere above fifty-five thousand feet. There was a chance that Kress would fail, when it would be the turn of Jeter and Eyer. They didn't wish for his failure, of course. They were sports-men as well as scientists; but they were just human enough to anticipate the plaudits of the world which would be showered without stint upon the fliers who succeeded. The warship simply vanished into the night sky. "At least, Tema," said Jeter quietly, "we can look his ship over and see if there is anything about it that will suggest something to us. Of course, whether he succeeds or fails, we shall make the attempt as soon as we are ready.""Indeed, yes," replied Eyer. "For no man will ever fly so high that another may not fly even higher. Once planes are constructed of unlimited flying radius ... well, the universe is large and there should be no end of space fights for a long time."

The Metamorphosis (German: Die Verwandlung, also sometimes translated as The Transformation) is a novella by Franz Kafka, first published in 1915. It has been cited as one of the seminal works of fiction of the 20th century and is studied in colleges and universities across the Western world. The story begins with a traveling salesman, Gregor Samsa, waking to find himself transformed (metamorphosed) into a large, monstrous insect-like creature. The cause of Samsa's transformation is never revealed, and Kafka never did give an explanation. The rest of Kafka's novella deals with Gregor's attempts to adjust to his new condition as he deals with being burdensome to his parents and sister, who are repulsed by the horrible, verminous creature Gregor has become. Part I: One day, Gregor Samsa, a traveling salesman, wakes up to find himself transformed into a "ungeheures Ungeziefer", literally "monstrous vermin", often interpreted as a giant bug or insect. He believes it is a dream, and reflects on how dreary life as a traveling salesman is. As he looks at the wall clock, he realizes he has overslept, and missed his train for work. He ponders on the consequences of this delay. Gregor becomes annoyed at how his boss never accepts excuses or explanations from any of his employees no matter how hard working they are, displaying an apparent lack of trusting abilities. Gregor's mother knocks on the door and he answers her. She is concerned for Gregor because he is late for work, which is unorthodox for Gregor. Gregor answers his mother and realizes that his voice has changed, but his answer is short so his mother does not notice the voice change. His sister, Grete, to whom he was very close, then whispers through the door and begs him to open the door. All his family members think that he is ill and ask him to open the door. He tries to get out of bed, but he is incapable of moving his body. While trying to move, he finds that his office manager, the chief clerk, has shown up to check on him. He finally rocks his body to the floor and calls out that he will open the door shortly.

Видано 45 мовами! Донна Тартт — лауреат Пул?тцер?всько? прем?? № 1 у списку 100 видатних книжок за верс??ю The New York Times Отямившись п?сля вибуху в музе?, тринадцятир?чний Тео ще не розум??, що там, п?д уламками, залишилися його мат?р ? його дитинство. Пробираючись до виходу, повз кам?ння та т?ла, в?н п?дбира? безц?нну картину фламандського майстра, яку так любила його мати. Дивний старий, вмираючи, в?дда? йому свого персня та просить винести картину зв?дси... Тео буде кидати ?з родини в родину, ?з Нью-Йорка до Амстердама, ?з глибин в?дчаю до ейфор??. Викрадений ?Щиголь? стане його прокляттям та над??ю на порятунок... Vidano 45 movami! Donna Tartt — laureat Pul?tcer?vs'ko? prem?? № 1 u spisku 100 vidatnih knizhok za vers??ju The New York Times Otjamivshis' p?slja vibuhu v muze?, trinadcjatir?chnij Teo shhe ne rozum??, shho tam, p?d ulamkami, zalishilisja jogo mat?r ? jogo ditinstvo. Probirajuchis' do vihodu, povz kam?nnja ta t?la, v?n p?dbira? bezc?nnu kartinu flamands'kogo majstra, jaku tak ljubila jogo mati. Divnij starij, vmirajuchi, v?dda? jomu svogo persnja ta prosit' vinesti kartinu zv?dsi... Teo bude kidati ?z rodini v rodinu, ?z N'ju-Jorka do Amsterdama, ?z glibin v?dchaju do ejfor??. Vikradenij ?Shhigol'? stane jogo prokljattjam ta nad??ju na porjatunok...

Underground* *The author of the diary and the diary itself are, of course, imaginary. Nevertheless it is clear that such persons as the writer of these notes not only may, but positively must, exist in our society, when we consider the circumstances in the midst of which our society is formed. I have tried to expose to the view of the public more distinctly than is commonly done, one of the characters of the recent past. He is one of the representatives of a generation still living. In this fragment, entitled "Underground," this person introduces himself and his views, and, as it were, tries to explain the causes owing to which he has made his appearance and was bound to make his appearance in our midst. In the second fragment there are added the actual notes of this person concerning certain events in his life.--AUTHOR'S NOTE. II am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; I know better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite. My liver is bad, well--let it get worse! I have been going on like that for a long time--twenty years. Now I am forty. I used to be in the government service, but am no longer. I was a spiteful official. I was rude and took pleasure in being so. I did not take bribes, you see, so I was bound to find a recompense in that, at least. (A poor jest, but I will not scratch it out. I wrote it thinking it would sound very witty; but now that I have seen myself that I only wanted to show off in a despicable way, I will not scratch it out on purpose!) When petitioners used to come for information to the table at which I sat, I used to grind my teeth at them, and felt intense enjoyment when I succeeded in making anybody unhappy. I almost did succeed. For the most part they were all timid people--of course, they were petitioners. But of the uppish ones there was one officer in particular I could not endure. He simply would not be humble, and clanked his sword in a disgusting way. I carried on a feud with him for eighteen months over that sword. At last I got the better of him. He left off clanking it. That happened in my youth, though. But do you know, gentlemen, what was the chief point about my spite? Why, the whole point, the real sting of it lay in the fact that continually, even in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was inwardly conscious with shame that I was not only not a spiteful but not even an embittered man, that I was simply scaring sparrows at random and amusing myself by it. I might foam at the mouth, but bring me a doll to play with, give me a cup of tea with sugar in it, and maybe I should be appeased. I might even be genuinely touched, though probably I should grind my teeth at myself afterwards and lie awake at night with shame for months after. That was my way.

In these times of ours, though concerning the exact year there is no need to be precise, a boat of dirty and disreputable appearance, with two figures in it, floated on the Thames, between Southwark bridge which is of iron, and London Bridge which is of stone, as an autumn evening was closing in. The figures in this boat were those of a strong man with ragged grizzled hair and a sun-browned face, and a dark girl of nineteen or twenty, sufficiently like him to be recognizable as his daughter. The girl rowed, pulling a pair of sculls very easily; the man, with the rudder-lines slack in his hands, and his hands loose in his waistband, kept an eager look out. He had no net, hook, or line, and he could not be a fisherman; his boat had no cushion for a sitter, no paint, no inscription, no appliance beyond a rusty boathook and a coil of rope, and he could not be a waterman; his boat was too crazy and too small to take in cargo for delivery, and he could not be a lighterman or river-carrier; there was no clue to what he looked for, but he looked for something, with a most intent and searching gaze. The tide, which had turned an hour before, was running down, and his eyes watched every little race and eddy in its broad sweep, as the boat made slight head-way against it, or drove stern foremost before it, according as he directed his daughter by a movement of his head. She watched his face as earnestly as he watched the river. But, in the intensity of her look there was a touch of dread or horror. Allied to the bottom of the river rather than the surface, by reason of the slime and ooze with which it was covered, and its sodden state, this boat and the two figures in it obviously were doing something that they often did, and were seeking what they often sought. Half savage as the man showed, with no covering on his matted head, with his brown arms bare to between the elbow and the shoulder, with the loose knot of a looser kerchief lying low on his bare breast in a wilderness of beard and whisker, with such dress as he wore seeming to be made out of the mud that begrimed his boat, still there was a business-like usage in his steady gaze. So with every lithe action of the girl, with every turn of her wrist, perhaps most of all with her look of dread or horror; they were things of usage. 'Keep her out, Lizzie. Tide runs strong here. Keep her well afore the sweep of it.' Trusting to the girl's skill and making no use of the rudder, he eyed the coming tide with an absorbed attention. So the girl eyed him. But, it happened now, that a slant of light from the setting sun glanced into the bottom of the boat, and, touching a rotten stain there which bore some resemblance to the outline of a muffled human form, coloured it as though with diluted blood. This caught the girl's eye, and she shivered. 'What ails you?' said the man, immediately aware of it, though so intent on the advancing waters; 'I see nothing afloat.' The red light was gone, the shudder was gone, and his gaze, which had come back to the boat for a moment, travelled away again. Wheresoever the strong tide met with an impediment, his gaze paused for an instant. At every mooring-chain and rope, at every stationery boat or barge that split the current into a broad-arrowhead, at the offsets from the piers of Southwark Bridge, at the paddles of the river steamboats as they beat the filthy water, at the floating logs of timber lashed together lying off certain wharves, his shining eyes darted a hungry look. After a darkening hour or so, suddenly the rudder-lines tightened in his hold, and he steered hard towards the Surrey shore. Always watching his face, the girl instantly answered to the action in her sculling; presently the boat swung round, quivered as from a sudden jerk, and the upper half of the man was stretched out over the stern.

Чортова дванадцятка — досить змстовна й влучна характеристика збрки жахв за редакцю неперевершеного Ствена Джонса! Пд одню обкладинкою збран 12 гостроцкавих оповдань менитих майстрв горору. Дж. Гаррс, К. Ньюман, М. рей, Р. Кемпбелл та нш гарантують вам безсонну нч в атмосфер тамничост й мстики… Подейкують, що в паризькому Театр Жаху влаштовують кривав вистави. Тридцятидвохрчна Кейт Рд пдбралася надто близько до розгадки… (Гньоль) Вдомий актор Даррен Ловр на пку популярност… був, аж доки не розгнвав вдьму! (Забуття)Chortova dvanadcjatka — dosit' zmstovna j vluchna harakteristika zbrki zhahv za redakcju neperevershenogo Stvena Dzhonsa! Pd odnju obkladinkoju zbran 12 gostrockavih opovdan' menitih majstrv gororu. Dzh. Garrs, K. N'juman, M. rej, R. Kempbell ta nsh garantujut' vam bezsonnu nch v atmosfer tamnichost j mstiki… Podejkujut', shho v pariz'komu Teatr Zhahu vlashtovujut' krivav vistavi. Tridcjatidvohrchna Kejt Rd pdbralasja nadto bliz'ko do rozgadki… (Gn'ol') Vdomij aktor Darren Lovr na pku populjarnost… buv, azh doki ne rozgnvav vd'mu! (Zabuttja)