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Con un barco teatro que recorre el río Ohio durante el siglo XIX como telón de fondo, El Teatro Flotante es la emocionante historia de una costurera encantadoramente sincera e ingenua que, víctima de un chantaje, tendrá que ayudar a salvar a esclavos prófugos, poniendo en riesgo su libertad, su modo de vida y un nuevo amor.
Cuando la joven costurera May Bedlow se queda sola y sin un centavo en un pueblo a las orillas del río Ohio, encontrará trabajo en el famoso Teatro Flotante de Hugo y Helena que navega llevando su espectáculo a ambas orillas del río. Su creatividad y su maestría con la aguja la hacen inmediatamente imprescindible y se convertirá en una más de la colorida troupe de artistas. Por primera vez en su vida May parece haber encontrado amigos y quizás algo más…
Pero la frontera entre el Sur Confederado y el Norte libre está lleno de peligros... Para saldar una deuda que nunca podrá pagar, May se verá obligada a colaborar en el transporte secreto de pasajeros, cruzando el río al abrigo de la oscuridad de la noche. Para May mentir nunca ha sido fácil, pero ahora se ve obligada a quebrantar la ley, engañar a todos sus nuevos amigos. A medida que los secretos de May se van enredando y se vuelven más difíciles de guardar, el Teatro Flotante se prepara para la función más importante que la compañía haya representado nunca. Para salvar las vidas de los demás, May deberá arriesgar la suya.
364 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 15, 2017
"Think back on when you’re sitting in an audience. At first you’re aware that you’re on a plush seat, or a hard bench, or maybe you’re standing in the pit, but in any case there are people around you who, just like you, paid to be in this place, and you spend some time looking at them, what they’re wearing, who they’re talking to, and so forth, maybe even listening to what they’re saying.” He went to the next curtain and began rolling it up. “You might know some of them, but even if you don’t, you know that you are all from the same place and speak the same language and so on. Then the bell rings and the actors come out on the stage and the scene begins—let’s say it’s a country scene and maybe it’s in Italy or somewhere else far off—and for a moment, even as the players start their speeches, you are still you and the town you live in is still just outside the closed theater doors. But then, rather quickly if the actors are any good, something happens and somehow you drop into the fiction of the Italian countryside, and there you are. You forget all about the people around you because the only people that exist are the actors onstage, and the only world is the world they are playing out for you. You’ve lost yourself in the fiction. Afterwards, do you feel cheated? No. You might have liked the performance, you might have hated it, but it doesn’t strike you as a lie . . . it’s more like a window. And you’re complicit. You wanted to look in that window and you did."