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Шепа врани
Като кестен съм кафява,
като трънка черноока,
като ручей бързонога,
като див звяр съм жестока.
„Балада за кафявото момиче“
Така започва една красива история за любов, загуба и отмъщение.
Следвайки смяната на сезоните, Джоан Харис черпи вдъхновение от природата и фолклора, за да преплете младост и зрялост, страст, мъдрост и мистика и да ги превърне в модерна приказка.Това е разказ за едно диво безименно момиче, което живее сред вълците, дърветата и билките – Странница без минало. Само любовта е в състояние да я привлече към различния и измамен свят на Хората, на нещата, които носят собствени имена. И когато капанът на този свят щраква зад нея и я откъсва от нейната природа, изглежда, само желанието за мъст ще е достатъчно силно, за да ѝ позволи да избяга.
като трънка черноока,
като ручей бързонога,
като див звяр съм жестока.
„Балада за кафявото момиче“
Така започва една красива история за любов, загуба и отмъщение.
Следвайки смяната на сезоните, Джоан Харис черпи вдъхновение от природата и фолклора, за да преплете младост и зрялост, страст, мъдрост и мистика и да ги превърне в модерна приказка.Това е разказ за едно диво безименно момиче, което живее сред вълците, дърветата и билките – Странница без минало. Само любовта е в състояние да я привлече към различния и измамен свят на Хората, на нещата, които носят собствени имена. И когато капанът на този свят щраква зад нея и я откъсва от нейната природа, изглежда, само желанието за мъст ще е достатъчно силно, за да ѝ позволи да избяга.
256 pages, Paperback
First published October 19, 2017
143 people are currently reading
5602 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 615 reviews
November 25, 2024
Generally, I prefer my books to be less whimsical and involve at least some brain action so I believed this would not merit an outstanding grade. The poetic treatment of this stupid, stupid love story wrapped with myth and fairy tale won me over: 5 entangling shining stars.
Let us all be true to ourselves!
Q:
The moon is ringed with silver – a sign. The air is sweet as summertime. (c)
Q:
The year it turns, and turns, and turns. Winter to summer, darkness to light, turning the world like wood on a lathe, shaping the months and the seasons. (c)
Q:
I am brown, and brisk, and wild. I hunt with the owl, and dance with the hare, and swim with the trout and the otter. (c)
Q:
Naked, I turn in the firelight; moon-silver, fire-golden. (c)
Q:
And now I can hear the sounds of the night: the lapping at the water’s edge; the squeak of a mouse in the long grass; the calling of owls in the branches. I can hear the tick-tick-ticking of a death-watch beetle in a beam over half a mile away; I can catch the sleepy scent of lilacs on the common. (c)
Q:
The vixen’s fur is warm and thick; I am no longer shivering. For a time I run alongside her, feeling her strength and the fierce joy of hunting under a blue milk moon, with the promise of blood in the air and summer no more than a heartbeat away. Then, in a moment, we are one. (c)
Q:
Wild creatures feel hunger differently. My own is deep as wintertime; frugal as old age. The vixen’s is joyous; exuberant; sniffing for frogs under the turf; snapping at moths in the shining air. (c)
Q:
I am brown, and brisk, and wild. I hunt with the owl, and dance with the hare, and swim with the trout and the otter. (с)
Q:
My people are the wolves, the hare, the wild bees in the forest. My people are the birch trees, the roe deer, and the otter. My people are the travelling folk that travel on the campfire smoke, and go into the fox, the wolf, the badger and the weasel. And I am not afraid. (c)
Q:
‘Do you have a name?’ he says.
Of course not. Names are for tame folk. Names are for those who are afraid of our kind of freedom. ...
I have been every bird, every beast, every insect you can name. And so I have no name of my own, and cannot be tamed or commanded. (c)
Q:
No one sees me, as a rule. Even when I show myself, no one really sees me. (c)
Q:
What sickness is this? Why do I not take pleasure in my freedom? The air is bright; the sky is blue; the wind is filled with promise. Why then do I feel so unlike myself, so restless and strange, so incomplete? Why then do I ache, and fret, and pine, and rage, and question? (c)
Q:
I heard it from a white-headed crow, who heard it from a black sheep, who heard it from a tabby cat that lives in a dry-moated castle. (c)
Q:
The travelling folk have no castles, no wealth. We do not hold lands or territories. Instead we have the mountains, the sea, the lakes and the moors and the rivers. This is our inheritance. (c)
Q:
And he will never once be mine, or look at me with love in his eyes, for who could love a brown girl who never stays in her own skin? (c)
Q:
Such a stone is a powerful charm, and looking through the hole in its heart by the light of a tallow candle, you can see as far as the ocean – even, perhaps, through castle walls. (c)
Q:
What a strange thing it must be, to be named. What a strange and terrible thing. No man will ever name me, not as a cat, and not as myself. ...
A named thing is a tamed thing. ... A named thing has a master. (c)
Q:
I shall sleep on your pillow, and purr, until you are mine for ever. (c)
Q:
Just for today, it feels good to be tame, and besides, who else but I need know? (c)
Q:
I sleep, and by your side I dream of things I never knew I wanted... (c)
Q:
And now I know that this feeling is not a curse, or a spell, or a dream. It is as real as the starry sky, and the hot blood of the rat I caught last night in the castle kitchens. This feeling, at once so strong and so sweet; so real, and yet insubstantial. I have been warned against it, and yet it does not seem so dangerous. (c)
Q:
I shall go into a cat, and sleep on his pillow all night long. Not because he is my love, but because I do as I please, and no one tells me what to do. (c)
Q:
Today I am a skylark, tumbling high among the clouds, flinging my song against the peaks, dancing with the rainbows. (c)
Q:
I have no need of silks and furs. I have no need of servants. I have the silk of the dragonfly’s wing, the snowy coat of the winter hare. I have the gold of the morning sun, the colours of the Northlights. And I can go into a horse, and run across the marshlands, or travel with the wild geese as they fly towards the sun— (c)
Q:
We do not try to change ourselves into what we should not be. (c)
Q:
And William loves the fine black silk that lines my legs and armpits, and the roundness of my breasts, and the soft broad curve of my hip, and would not see me change a thing. (c)
Q:
We could have the moors, and the lakes, and the open skies, and the mountains. We could live in the forest, alone, and be everything to each other. (c)
Q:
And as the rose month reaches its peak, and midsummer is upon us, I know that our joy will grow and grow, and fill the earth with roses. (c)
Q:
Sing a song of starlight,
A pocketful of crows.
See the bonny brown girl
In her borrowed clothes.
See her in a vixen,
See her in a hare,
See her in her true love’s arms,
at sweet Midsummer’s fair. (c)
Q:
I know his heart, as he knows mine.
I need no charm to capture him; no adder-stone to watch him by. (c)
Q:
Our love is like the mountains. Our love is like the stormy sea. Our love is like the midnight sky. ...But I miss the peaks and the cold black lake, and the forest, and the islands. I miss the open sky, and the sun, and the song of the morning in my throat. (c)
Q:
My people were here when these mountains were ice, and these valleys were nothing but streamlets running down from the glacier. (c)
Q:
And now, for the first time, I have a name. Malmuira. Dark Lady. I wear it like a golden crown. I wear it like a collar. ...
I have a name. It binds me. I am no longer a child of the world, no longer one of the travelling folk, but a named thing. (c)
Q:
I wish I could tell him how I feel. But that would mean giving away secrets that are not mine to give. I cannot betray my heart, my blood. The travelling folk may have disowned me, but they are still my people. (c)
Q:
The prince should have recognised his love whatever she was wearing. ...
And why did the princess not speak out when the prince went looking for her? Why did she lurk in the kitchens, waiting to be saved? Why could she not save herself? ...
And why would one of the Faërie have given her three wishes? And why would she waste them on a dress, some dancing shoes and a coach and four? (c)
Q:
Sleep well, love, and dream of me. And know that, if I were to live for a thousand years, there would still not be enough nights in which to dream of you. (c)
Q:
Our love is as strong as the mountains, as endless as the oceans. (c)
Q:
One thing at a time. Wisdom must always be paid for. (c)
Q:
And then I lay down in the ferns and grass that grow around my hut, and watched the fragments of sky through the trees, and wondered how the sun still shone when my light had gone out for ever. ... Now I am as old as Old Age, and colder than ice, and harder than stone. (c)
Q:
And I shall dance barefoot on your grave, and sing like a lark with the joy of it, and soar into the stormy sky, and fill my throat with lightning. (c)
Q:
We are the travelling folk. We live. And we will live for ever. (c)
Q:
We may look like beggars by day, but on this night, we are kings and queens, and the world is our kingdom, our playground the night, and the starry night our canopy. (c)
Q:
Most people die an hour before dawn. It is the point of least resistance to the pull of the darkness. An hour before dawn, you can see the pale seam of the night sky starting to unravel: you can hear the birds as they awaken; there is hope. And that is the moment at which they fade, the old ones and the babes-in-arms, the ones that slip gently into the dark and those who struggle till the end. (c)
Q:
The two wolves come to me every night. Together, we sleep in safety. ... The wolves bring me food from their hunt, and sleep beside me, and give me strength, but I still miss my freedom. (c)
Q:
And though I still cannot travel, I can sometimes forget who I am, and dream that I am one of them, and in dreaming grow stronger. (c)
Q:
But when one has had so little love, even table scraps may serve. (c)
Q:
The time between Christmas and the New Year is a dark, uncertain time: a time when dogs howl, witches fly, and the dead watch the living. (c)
Q:
What’s a life or two, between friends? (c)
Q:
‘Is it so very obvious?’
Everything is very obvious when you’re as old as I am (c)
Q:
I know it is a lie, and yet my heart will not believe it so. Instead it dances like a star, and leaps like a salmon, and aches like a stone, and there is nothing I can do to still its wild and hopeful song. (c)
Q:
We take what we must, and never look back, and scatter our seeds to the four winds, and into the mountains, and over the sea, and all across the starry sky. (c)
Q:
I want to tell her the child still lives, safe in the arms of the travelling folk. Nameless, it will always be wild, and fly with the crow and the magpie. Soulless, it will never die, but go into the world again, until the world is ended. (c)
Q:
And the laughter was like a giant wave that swept me into the primrose sky, so that I was thistledown, and fireworks, and starlight. (c)
Q:
You called me ugly, and a slut. You lied and you betrayed me. Worse than that, you named me. (c)
Q:
He would have known and loved me wherever I chose to travel, and he would have wanted to be with me, whatever the cost to his heart or soul. (c)
Q:
Now I am in everything. Now I am the wind, the rain, the love-knots on the hawthorn tree. (c)
Q:
I have been tame, and I have been wild. And I swear I will never again be tame, or try to be like one of the Folk, or turn away from the ancient ways of the travelling people. (c)
Q:
‘Well met, sister. Blessed be.’ (c)
Let us all be true to ourselves!
Q:
The moon is ringed with silver – a sign. The air is sweet as summertime. (c)
Q:
The year it turns, and turns, and turns. Winter to summer, darkness to light, turning the world like wood on a lathe, shaping the months and the seasons. (c)
Q:
I am brown, and brisk, and wild. I hunt with the owl, and dance with the hare, and swim with the trout and the otter. (c)
Q:
Naked, I turn in the firelight; moon-silver, fire-golden. (c)
Q:
And now I can hear the sounds of the night: the lapping at the water’s edge; the squeak of a mouse in the long grass; the calling of owls in the branches. I can hear the tick-tick-ticking of a death-watch beetle in a beam over half a mile away; I can catch the sleepy scent of lilacs on the common. (c)
Q:
The vixen’s fur is warm and thick; I am no longer shivering. For a time I run alongside her, feeling her strength and the fierce joy of hunting under a blue milk moon, with the promise of blood in the air and summer no more than a heartbeat away. Then, in a moment, we are one. (c)
Q:
Wild creatures feel hunger differently. My own is deep as wintertime; frugal as old age. The vixen’s is joyous; exuberant; sniffing for frogs under the turf; snapping at moths in the shining air. (c)
Q:
I am brown, and brisk, and wild. I hunt with the owl, and dance with the hare, and swim with the trout and the otter. (с)
Q:
My people are the wolves, the hare, the wild bees in the forest. My people are the birch trees, the roe deer, and the otter. My people are the travelling folk that travel on the campfire smoke, and go into the fox, the wolf, the badger and the weasel. And I am not afraid. (c)
Q:
‘Do you have a name?’ he says.
Of course not. Names are for tame folk. Names are for those who are afraid of our kind of freedom. ...
I have been every bird, every beast, every insect you can name. And so I have no name of my own, and cannot be tamed or commanded. (c)
Q:
No one sees me, as a rule. Even when I show myself, no one really sees me. (c)
Q:
What sickness is this? Why do I not take pleasure in my freedom? The air is bright; the sky is blue; the wind is filled with promise. Why then do I feel so unlike myself, so restless and strange, so incomplete? Why then do I ache, and fret, and pine, and rage, and question? (c)
Q:
I heard it from a white-headed crow, who heard it from a black sheep, who heard it from a tabby cat that lives in a dry-moated castle. (c)
Q:
The travelling folk have no castles, no wealth. We do not hold lands or territories. Instead we have the mountains, the sea, the lakes and the moors and the rivers. This is our inheritance. (c)
Q:
And he will never once be mine, or look at me with love in his eyes, for who could love a brown girl who never stays in her own skin? (c)
Q:
Such a stone is a powerful charm, and looking through the hole in its heart by the light of a tallow candle, you can see as far as the ocean – even, perhaps, through castle walls. (c)
Q:
What a strange thing it must be, to be named. What a strange and terrible thing. No man will ever name me, not as a cat, and not as myself. ...
A named thing is a tamed thing. ... A named thing has a master. (c)
Q:
I shall sleep on your pillow, and purr, until you are mine for ever. (c)
Q:
Just for today, it feels good to be tame, and besides, who else but I need know? (c)
Q:
I sleep, and by your side I dream of things I never knew I wanted... (c)
Q:
And now I know that this feeling is not a curse, or a spell, or a dream. It is as real as the starry sky, and the hot blood of the rat I caught last night in the castle kitchens. This feeling, at once so strong and so sweet; so real, and yet insubstantial. I have been warned against it, and yet it does not seem so dangerous. (c)
Q:
I shall go into a cat, and sleep on his pillow all night long. Not because he is my love, but because I do as I please, and no one tells me what to do. (c)
Q:
Today I am a skylark, tumbling high among the clouds, flinging my song against the peaks, dancing with the rainbows. (c)
Q:
I have no need of silks and furs. I have no need of servants. I have the silk of the dragonfly’s wing, the snowy coat of the winter hare. I have the gold of the morning sun, the colours of the Northlights. And I can go into a horse, and run across the marshlands, or travel with the wild geese as they fly towards the sun— (c)
Q:
We do not try to change ourselves into what we should not be. (c)
Q:
And William loves the fine black silk that lines my legs and armpits, and the roundness of my breasts, and the soft broad curve of my hip, and would not see me change a thing. (c)
Q:
We could have the moors, and the lakes, and the open skies, and the mountains. We could live in the forest, alone, and be everything to each other. (c)
Q:
And as the rose month reaches its peak, and midsummer is upon us, I know that our joy will grow and grow, and fill the earth with roses. (c)
Q:
Sing a song of starlight,
A pocketful of crows.
See the bonny brown girl
In her borrowed clothes.
See her in a vixen,
See her in a hare,
See her in her true love’s arms,
at sweet Midsummer’s fair. (c)
Q:
I know his heart, as he knows mine.
I need no charm to capture him; no adder-stone to watch him by. (c)
Q:
Our love is like the mountains. Our love is like the stormy sea. Our love is like the midnight sky. ...But I miss the peaks and the cold black lake, and the forest, and the islands. I miss the open sky, and the sun, and the song of the morning in my throat. (c)
Q:
My people were here when these mountains were ice, and these valleys were nothing but streamlets running down from the glacier. (c)
Q:
And now, for the first time, I have a name. Malmuira. Dark Lady. I wear it like a golden crown. I wear it like a collar. ...
I have a name. It binds me. I am no longer a child of the world, no longer one of the travelling folk, but a named thing. (c)
Q:
I wish I could tell him how I feel. But that would mean giving away secrets that are not mine to give. I cannot betray my heart, my blood. The travelling folk may have disowned me, but they are still my people. (c)
Q:
The prince should have recognised his love whatever she was wearing. ...
And why did the princess not speak out when the prince went looking for her? Why did she lurk in the kitchens, waiting to be saved? Why could she not save herself? ...
And why would one of the Faërie have given her three wishes? And why would she waste them on a dress, some dancing shoes and a coach and four? (c)
Q:
Sleep well, love, and dream of me. And know that, if I were to live for a thousand years, there would still not be enough nights in which to dream of you. (c)
Q:
Our love is as strong as the mountains, as endless as the oceans. (c)
Q:
One thing at a time. Wisdom must always be paid for. (c)
Q:
And then I lay down in the ferns and grass that grow around my hut, and watched the fragments of sky through the trees, and wondered how the sun still shone when my light had gone out for ever. ... Now I am as old as Old Age, and colder than ice, and harder than stone. (c)
Q:
And I shall dance barefoot on your grave, and sing like a lark with the joy of it, and soar into the stormy sky, and fill my throat with lightning. (c)
Q:
We are the travelling folk. We live. And we will live for ever. (c)
Q:
We may look like beggars by day, but on this night, we are kings and queens, and the world is our kingdom, our playground the night, and the starry night our canopy. (c)
Q:
Most people die an hour before dawn. It is the point of least resistance to the pull of the darkness. An hour before dawn, you can see the pale seam of the night sky starting to unravel: you can hear the birds as they awaken; there is hope. And that is the moment at which they fade, the old ones and the babes-in-arms, the ones that slip gently into the dark and those who struggle till the end. (c)
Q:
The two wolves come to me every night. Together, we sleep in safety. ... The wolves bring me food from their hunt, and sleep beside me, and give me strength, but I still miss my freedom. (c)
Q:
And though I still cannot travel, I can sometimes forget who I am, and dream that I am one of them, and in dreaming grow stronger. (c)
Q:
But when one has had so little love, even table scraps may serve. (c)
Q:
The time between Christmas and the New Year is a dark, uncertain time: a time when dogs howl, witches fly, and the dead watch the living. (c)
Q:
What’s a life or two, between friends? (c)
Q:
‘Is it so very obvious?’
Everything is very obvious when you’re as old as I am (c)
Q:
I know it is a lie, and yet my heart will not believe it so. Instead it dances like a star, and leaps like a salmon, and aches like a stone, and there is nothing I can do to still its wild and hopeful song. (c)
Q:
We take what we must, and never look back, and scatter our seeds to the four winds, and into the mountains, and over the sea, and all across the starry sky. (c)
Q:
I want to tell her the child still lives, safe in the arms of the travelling folk. Nameless, it will always be wild, and fly with the crow and the magpie. Soulless, it will never die, but go into the world again, until the world is ended. (c)
Q:
And the laughter was like a giant wave that swept me into the primrose sky, so that I was thistledown, and fireworks, and starlight. (c)
Q:
You called me ugly, and a slut. You lied and you betrayed me. Worse than that, you named me. (c)
Q:
He would have known and loved me wherever I chose to travel, and he would have wanted to be with me, whatever the cost to his heart or soul. (c)
Q:
Now I am in everything. Now I am the wind, the rain, the love-knots on the hawthorn tree. (c)
Q:
I have been tame, and I have been wild. And I swear I will never again be tame, or try to be like one of the Folk, or turn away from the ancient ways of the travelling people. (c)
Q:
‘Well met, sister. Blessed be.’ (c)
October 15, 2017
Joanne Harris has written a powerfully magical and fantastical tale brimful of folklore that draws on the The Child Ballads. It is beautifully written, poetic and lyrical, and a short read. It reads like a dark fairytale. An unnamed wild brown girl roams the forests, free to transport herself into birds and other wildlife. She savours her freedom and is loyal to her people, who are treated with contempt and sneered by others in society. We follow the seasons, echoing the aging process. The wild girl takes an adderstone love token left by a woman with the name William on it. This is the story of innocence, love, betrayal, loss and revenge.
Our wild girl encounters William MacCormac, a man of privilege and power, the son of a influential lord and saves him. Neither can forget each other, and William persuades her to come live with him and names her Malmuira, the dark lady of the mountains. There are ominous signs and portents but the girl ignores them. Naming means taming, and despite the warnings of her community, she gives up her freedoms to stay, all for love. She is treated with contempt and sneered at by others in William's household, whilst rumours abound of her being a wicked witch who has bewitched the young lord. William's love proves to be less than enduring. This is a wondrous and mythic story that weaves a spell over the reader. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Orion for an ARC.
Our wild girl encounters William MacCormac, a man of privilege and power, the son of a influential lord and saves him. Neither can forget each other, and William persuades her to come live with him and names her Malmuira, the dark lady of the mountains. There are ominous signs and portents but the girl ignores them. Naming means taming, and despite the warnings of her community, she gives up her freedoms to stay, all for love. She is treated with contempt and sneered at by others in William's household, whilst rumours abound of her being a wicked witch who has bewitched the young lord. William's love proves to be less than enduring. This is a wondrous and mythic story that weaves a spell over the reader. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Orion for an ARC.
February 21, 2023
I have no name.
The travelling folk have neither name nor master. When I die, no stone will be laid. Mo flowers will be scattered. When I die, I will become a thousand creatures: beetles, worms. And so I shall travel on, for ever, till the End of the Worlds. This is the fate of the travelling folk.
We would not have it otherwise.
Wow, what a lovely little piece of literature!
This adult fairytale will break your heart, build it back together and then fill it with life, passion and love for nature.
Thanks to the pacing, I loved and hated (and suffered) along with the bonny brown girl, and the gorgeous illustrations that pepper the pages are so perfect and in tune with the tone of the story that you can't help but feel dragged in.
Though, I think it's fair to say that its whimsical, dark and gut-wrenching writing is without a doubt the main character.
Poetry without poetry is my favorite.
On Bonnie Helen Hawkins' blog you can find some of the illustrations she made for the book. Give it a look. Her art is extraordinary!
July 3, 2017
What a lovely little book. I actually read it in a couple of hours one lazy Sunday morning. The synopsis says it all really. Based on the poem 'The Child Ballads' this is a lovely poetic piece of writing weaving folklore and nature into one beautiful piece of prose. The young girl (not named as naming means taming) is a wild child living in the forest who finds a love token for the local lords son. Taking it, she then stops the boy from being trampled by his horse, falling in love with him and he with her. Or so she thinks. Bitterly betrayed by him she sets about getting her life back and seeking revenge on all who have hurt her.
One of the things I enjoyed most were the times when the girl leaves her body to go travelling in the bodies of local animals. How she sees the world through their eyes, whether soaring above in the sky or scuttling around the castle listening for gossip. You are taken along with every step of the girls journey. It really is magnificent. One of my new favourites by this author.
Free arc from netgalley
Wordpress review scheduled for release day
January 8, 2020
Every typical tale has a prince who saves the girl at the end of the story. But what if the girl does not want to be saved, what if the girl does not wait for the prince to be saved. Yeah, the charming save-from-everything kind of prince is tempting and sometimes you can't resist, but ...
Girls, sometimes you just need to save yourselves at the end.
Girls, sometimes you just need to save yourselves at the end.
February 13, 2018
I am glad I listened to this one as the author reads it herself and if she ever wants to stop writing books she will definitely get work as an audio narrator. On the other hand, I think I missed out on the illustrations that accompany the printed version.
The chapters follow the months of the year with a short rhyme from the 'Child Ballads' or some old folk saying as an introduction.
The brown girl with no name is one of the traveling folk. She can take the form of a fox, a crow, a hare, any animal she wants and travel, see, experience anything she wants. But then she meets William, a strapping young lad from the village. Falling in love makes her give up more than what she gains but that’s a hard lesson she must learn on her own.
It felt like I was listening to a beautiful poem. The essence of the story is one that has been done in various guises many many many many times and although the writing was lyrical and evocative I didn’t feel as if I experienced anything new.
If you are going to read this only for the evocative writing, then I think you will like it.
The chapters follow the months of the year with a short rhyme from the 'Child Ballads' or some old folk saying as an introduction.
The brown girl with no name is one of the traveling folk. She can take the form of a fox, a crow, a hare, any animal she wants and travel, see, experience anything she wants. But then she meets William, a strapping young lad from the village. Falling in love makes her give up more than what she gains but that’s a hard lesson she must learn on her own.
It felt like I was listening to a beautiful poem. The essence of the story is one that has been done in various guises many many many many times and although the writing was lyrical and evocative I didn’t feel as if I experienced anything new.
If you are going to read this only for the evocative writing, then I think you will like it.
February 10, 2018
This book is absolutely stunning! A beautifully crafted fairy tale for a new age full of whimsy, charm and the most fantastical illustrations..... it all makes for one of the loveliest books I have ever read.
Amazing.... just amazing!
Amazing.... just amazing!
November 23, 2017
“My people are the wolves, the hare, the wild bees in the forest. My people are the birch trees, the roe deer, and the otter. My people are the travelling folk that travel on the campfire smoke, and go into the fox, the wolf, the badger and the weasel. And I am not afraid.”
A wonderful magical story told within the cycle of a year. A tale of love, betrayal, revenge and rebirth. Entrancing and timeless.
Recommended.
A wonderful magical story told within the cycle of a year. A tale of love, betrayal, revenge and rebirth. Entrancing and timeless.
Recommended.
April 13, 2022
O amor.
Esta é uma história sobre o amor, sobre a questão do que é o amor e sobre o que é amar alguém e entregar-se ao amor. Amor esse que entra sem esperarmos, que nos conquista, que nos salva , que nos ensina a cuidar, a confiar e a respeitar.
O Feitiço da Lua Azul, da-nos a conhecer uma viajante do tempo sem nome, uma Morena, dona de si própria, bravia como um tordo, mas meiga como uma garça e desprendida como uma raposa. Rapariga essa que vive no coração da floresta, tem uma vida simples e é livre. Esta Rapariga sem nome, é uma personagem inocente que descobre o amor no coração de um rapaz com quem se cruza, que se entrega perdidamente aos belos olhos de William, do seu olhar cúmplice e das suas palavras com gosto a mel.
E ao apaixonar-se deixa a sua vida, muda quem é... tudo por causa de alguém.
Esta história não só nos ensina o que é amar alguém (dessa entrega incondicional e corajosa) mas também ensina que o amor é fundamentalmente amar-nos a nós mesmos, a celebração das nossas qualidades, a aceitação dos nossos defeitos. E a Rapariga sem nome aprende isso, talvez da pior maneira, quando a liberdade dela é lhe roubada ou quando descobre que o amor de William não é tão verdadeiro quanto o dela, mas há uma evolução tremenda, desde a inocente rapariga dos bosques, que ama incondicionalmente à mulher que aprende que o amor pode ser traiçoeiro , que pode trazer tristeza no peito, que pode criar cicatrizes e marcas para o resto da vida.
A cumplicidade e a elegância da escrita da autora foi o que mais me fascinou nesta obra, a história é divida segundo as estações e os meses do ano, desde a Primavera (a metáfora ideal para o desabrochar de um relacionamento), acompanhado pelo verão (o auge desse amor) até ao Inverno (a busca fria da vingança de um amor e de uma liberdade perdida).
Também tenho que realçar as belíssimas ilustrações que é nos brindado com esta obra, que não só aguça a vista, como faz querer avançar ainda mais pela leitura a dentro.
No fundo é um conto bastante simples, mas o crescimento da personagem é soberbo e magnifico, embora o final não tenha tido a magnitude do resto da obra. É fundamentalmente uma história sobre amor, sobre uma rapariga que ama alguém, que comete erros, que cresce, se fortalece e aprende a amar-se a si própria. Pois não há lição mais valiosa e incrível do que é aprender a amar e o que é o amor, esse feitiço que todos nós poderemos estar reféns um dia.
Esta é uma história sobre o amor, sobre a questão do que é o amor e sobre o que é amar alguém e entregar-se ao amor. Amor esse que entra sem esperarmos, que nos conquista, que nos salva , que nos ensina a cuidar, a confiar e a respeitar.
O Feitiço da Lua Azul, da-nos a conhecer uma viajante do tempo sem nome, uma Morena, dona de si própria, bravia como um tordo, mas meiga como uma garça e desprendida como uma raposa. Rapariga essa que vive no coração da floresta, tem uma vida simples e é livre. Esta Rapariga sem nome, é uma personagem inocente que descobre o amor no coração de um rapaz com quem se cruza, que se entrega perdidamente aos belos olhos de William, do seu olhar cúmplice e das suas palavras com gosto a mel.
E ao apaixonar-se deixa a sua vida, muda quem é... tudo por causa de alguém.
Esta história não só nos ensina o que é amar alguém (dessa entrega incondicional e corajosa) mas também ensina que o amor é fundamentalmente amar-nos a nós mesmos, a celebração das nossas qualidades, a aceitação dos nossos defeitos. E a Rapariga sem nome aprende isso, talvez da pior maneira, quando a liberdade dela é lhe roubada ou quando descobre que o amor de William não é tão verdadeiro quanto o dela, mas há uma evolução tremenda, desde a inocente rapariga dos bosques, que ama incondicionalmente à mulher que aprende que o amor pode ser traiçoeiro , que pode trazer tristeza no peito, que pode criar cicatrizes e marcas para o resto da vida.
A cumplicidade e a elegância da escrita da autora foi o que mais me fascinou nesta obra, a história é divida segundo as estações e os meses do ano, desde a Primavera (a metáfora ideal para o desabrochar de um relacionamento), acompanhado pelo verão (o auge desse amor) até ao Inverno (a busca fria da vingança de um amor e de uma liberdade perdida).
Também tenho que realçar as belíssimas ilustrações que é nos brindado com esta obra, que não só aguça a vista, como faz querer avançar ainda mais pela leitura a dentro.
No fundo é um conto bastante simples, mas o crescimento da personagem é soberbo e magnifico, embora o final não tenha tido a magnitude do resto da obra. É fundamentalmente uma história sobre amor, sobre uma rapariga que ama alguém, que comete erros, que cresce, se fortalece e aprende a amar-se a si própria. Pois não há lição mais valiosa e incrível do que é aprender a amar e o que é o amor, esse feitiço que todos nós poderemos estar reféns um dia.
July 18, 2018
what a beautiful short story it remembered me so much of an old fairy tales like Hans Christian Andersen’s dark and hunting, and will stay will you for a long time. i would love too re-read this in the autumn it has that feel too perfect for a october night's read.
February 2, 2019
Крайно време е да се науча, че Джоан Харис просто не я бива във фентъзито. Поне илюстрациите бяха симпатични.
June 27, 2018
This was such a joy to read. The writing style and the narrator were amazing. The art was beautiful. This book took me to another world and made me travel into the mind and the feelings the character was feeling. ⼼
October 19, 2017
In brief - A wonderful read and I loved it. Real 5 star stuff for me.
I confess I wasn't really sure what sort of a book this was nor whether it was my sort of book. I very quickly discovered it was my sort of book even if I don't recall reading anything quite like it before. It's inspired by, and takes its story from, "The Brown Girl" which is one of the Child Ballads. While these were collected together in the 19th century they are far older than that. This and the other ballads are essentially old folk tales a number of which have become folk songs. It is about a wild girl, unnamed, who lives in the woods and falls in love. She calls herself a traveller.
Depending which version of the ballad you look at there is a maximum of 16 four line verses. To transfer that into this book seems remarkably creative. It weaves myth, legend and folk stories into a tale about love over the course of one year. For me it also asks if the wild can be tamed and what happens then; is madness a possibility.
The writing is really beautiful as I read it - poetic and magical. It also gives a real sense of time and place while being timeless and unbound. I don't recall reading anything quite like this before. It manages to be light and dark and compelling and engaging and much more all at the same time. I guess I'm not absolutely sure who the target audience is however if it appeals to you, I think you are the target and you should enjoy this wonderfully rich tale. I rarely re-read books these days - this one may well be an exception. I was simply blown away by this and would love to read another from this author if it was anything like this.
Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review
http://viewson.org.uk/fantasy/pocketf...
I confess I wasn't really sure what sort of a book this was nor whether it was my sort of book. I very quickly discovered it was my sort of book even if I don't recall reading anything quite like it before. It's inspired by, and takes its story from, "The Brown Girl" which is one of the Child Ballads. While these were collected together in the 19th century they are far older than that. This and the other ballads are essentially old folk tales a number of which have become folk songs. It is about a wild girl, unnamed, who lives in the woods and falls in love. She calls herself a traveller.
Depending which version of the ballad you look at there is a maximum of 16 four line verses. To transfer that into this book seems remarkably creative. It weaves myth, legend and folk stories into a tale about love over the course of one year. For me it also asks if the wild can be tamed and what happens then; is madness a possibility.
The writing is really beautiful as I read it - poetic and magical. It also gives a real sense of time and place while being timeless and unbound. I don't recall reading anything quite like this before. It manages to be light and dark and compelling and engaging and much more all at the same time. I guess I'm not absolutely sure who the target audience is however if it appeals to you, I think you are the target and you should enjoy this wonderfully rich tale. I rarely re-read books these days - this one may well be an exception. I was simply blown away by this and would love to read another from this author if it was anything like this.
Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review
http://viewson.org.uk/fantasy/pocketf...
December 12, 2018
Things I liked:
◘ The writing was very whimsical, and that aspect felt very fairytale-esque.
◘ The illustrations throughout were a nice addition.
◘ The cover is beautiful, and the synopsis is vague but piqued my interest. This miiight’ve been a cover buy.
◘ Annnnd...... I liked nothing else.
Things I disliked:
◘ Okay SO at the beginning, two characters meet and within 2.318 seconds they’re completely besotted with each other.
◘ They then proceed to “fall madly, truly, deeply in love”. But they were both being very fickle. They were quick to assume and believe the worst of each other, and pettiness and jealousy tainted their relationship.
◘ From there, the tale morphs into one of revenge. This is supposedly a modern fairytale, but if the main character’s revenge was supposed to be empowering, I think that’s complete tosh.
◘ When you’re wronged by someone, your response should not be that person and everyone who gets in your way. That’s an awful message to convey.
◘ SO much harm came to people who were undeserving and unlucky to be in the firing line, too.
◘ I greatly dislike the love interest, but safe to say that I detest the main character more than I detest vacuuming my house or finding dead mice (”gifts”) from my cats outside my bedroom door.
Overall rating: ★☆☆☆☆½ (the half a star is just for the writing, mind you)
◘ The writing was very whimsical, and that aspect felt very fairytale-esque.
◘ The illustrations throughout were a nice addition.
◘ The cover is beautiful, and the synopsis is vague but piqued my interest. This miiight’ve been a cover buy.
◘ Annnnd...... I liked nothing else.
Things I disliked:
◘ Okay SO at the beginning, two characters meet and within 2.318 seconds they’re completely besotted with each other.
◘ They then proceed to “fall madly, truly, deeply in love”. But they were both being very fickle. They were quick to assume and believe the worst of each other, and pettiness and jealousy tainted their relationship.
◘ From there, the tale morphs into one of revenge. This is supposedly a modern fairytale, but if the main character’s revenge was supposed to be empowering, I think that’s complete tosh.
◘ When you’re wronged by someone, your response should not be that person and everyone who gets in your way. That’s an awful message to convey.
◘ SO much harm came to people who were undeserving and unlucky to be in the firing line, too.
◘ I greatly dislike the love interest, but safe to say that I detest the main character more than I detest vacuuming my house or finding dead mice (”gifts”) from my cats outside my bedroom door.
Overall rating: ★☆☆☆☆½ (the half a star is just for the writing, mind you)
July 26, 2020
This book is a beautifully rewritten ballad tale; but it felt slightly shallow at times. It did not immerse me as much as I wished it had.
The female protagonist of our story falls in love with a young boy, a boy who is not one of her travelling folk kind. She loves him truly, but he uses her and abandons her for one more suitable to his father’s approval.
Her revenge and retribution continue the rest of the story. It was well justified and a wonderful journey to read about - especially when it focussed primarily on female independence and the need for respect and sisterhood amongst women.
The book just skimmed along at some places - it felt more like the fairytale the story originally was than a novel I could sink my teeth into.
The female protagonist of our story falls in love with a young boy, a boy who is not one of her travelling folk kind. She loves him truly, but he uses her and abandons her for one more suitable to his father’s approval.
Her revenge and retribution continue the rest of the story. It was well justified and a wonderful journey to read about - especially when it focussed primarily on female independence and the need for respect and sisterhood amongst women.
The book just skimmed along at some places - it felt more like the fairytale the story originally was than a novel I could sink my teeth into.
August 30, 2017
You know sometimes you read a book and you love it so much that you want to eat it, so you can carry it around inside you? That's how I felt about this book.
I just chaired Joanne Harris's event at the book festival in Edinburgh, and she mentioned that she's working on another book in this series – and it's about selkies! Honestly, it's like she's writing specifically for me. I can't wait.
I just chaired Joanne Harris's event at the book festival in Edinburgh, and she mentioned that she's working on another book in this series – and it's about selkies! Honestly, it's like she's writing specifically for me. I can't wait.
April 25, 2019
Не е моята книга и мой тип дарк фентъзи, мистична история, но ми хареса и, както е тъничка, изсмуках я до костен мозък за една вечер преди сън. Написана поетично, пр��ведена магично :) , книгата е чаровно-оплетена, обърната с хастара навън история, традиционна за приказките: принцът среща загадъчното момиче в гората, принцът се влюбва и си отдава душата... и загадъчното момиче остава негова пленница не толкова телом, колкото духом. Добре позната приказка, от Магарешката кожа и до Малката русалка. Само дето ни дебне неочакван край. Само това ще кажа :)
May 14, 2019
Que livro maravilhoso. Nem tenho palavras para descrever o quanto gostei.
February 22, 2019
Hmmmm...this was a different Joanne Harris read. I've read and loved quite a few of her books (Chocolat, The Lollipop Shoes, Five Quarters of the Orange, Jigs and Reels, A Cat, A Hat and A Piece of String) but I didn't love this.
APOC is beautifully written, incredibly descriptive and poetic but the lack of dialogue made it a bit flat. The characters weren't that fleshed out either and I found myself indifferent to them.
APOC isn't a bad read, it just wasn't really for me and I probably wouldn't read it again.
2.5 stars
APOC is beautifully written, incredibly descriptive and poetic but the lack of dialogue made it a bit flat. The characters weren't that fleshed out either and I found myself indifferent to them.
APOC isn't a bad read, it just wasn't really for me and I probably wouldn't read it again.
2.5 stars
June 2, 2018
4,5
«I am as brown as brown can be.»
A Pocketful of Crows is a beautiful fairy tale about life, love and revenge. I'm a huge fan of Joanne Harris, partly because her writing is always beautiful, but here it is even better. Both her writing and this novella are a delightful piece of magic.
A nameless girl from the travelling folk falls in love with William, the son of a lord, defying her own kind and becoming what they're not, a named and tamed thing, until the day William betrays her, and the only feeling she's able to focus on is revenge.
I found the «brown girl» naïve and without much experience in life in the beginning, but her arc is stunning. She's blind with her love for William, but life is hard, and everything she experiences helps her growing.
I loved how Harris explored the differences between the societies -the travelling folk and the 'normal' folk- through their relationship, and the impact it had in the story. If we think about that, we realize that in real life it isn't different.
One of my favorite aspects of the travelling folk is the ability to transform into animals, and adding the astonishing narrative to that, the author created great moments full of vivid details.
A Pocketful of Crows is the perfect book to start reading Joanne Harris. It's wonderful.
«I am as brown as brown can be.»
A Pocketful of Crows is a beautiful fairy tale about life, love and revenge. I'm a huge fan of Joanne Harris, partly because her writing is always beautiful, but here it is even better. Both her writing and this novella are a delightful piece of magic.
A nameless girl from the travelling folk falls in love with William, the son of a lord, defying her own kind and becoming what they're not, a named and tamed thing, until the day William betrays her, and the only feeling she's able to focus on is revenge.
I found the «brown girl» naïve and without much experience in life in the beginning, but her arc is stunning. She's blind with her love for William, but life is hard, and everything she experiences helps her growing.
I loved how Harris explored the differences between the societies -the travelling folk and the 'normal' folk- through their relationship, and the impact it had in the story. If we think about that, we realize that in real life it isn't different.
One of my favorite aspects of the travelling folk is the ability to transform into animals, and adding the astonishing narrative to that, the author created great moments full of vivid details.
A Pocketful of Crows is the perfect book to start reading Joanne Harris. It's wonderful.
December 28, 2018
Oh, what absolutely glorious witchy goodness! 🎃 Good for the turn of the year or next Halloweentime...
I need to get myself a physical copy ASAP for the sake of the illustrations (and yes, also sitting pretty on my shelf).
I need to get myself a physical copy ASAP for the sake of the illustrations (and yes, also sitting pretty on my shelf).
August 22, 2018
DNF at 65%
I guess the fact that the narrator doesn’t learn from her mistakes as fast I wish she would kinda turned me off.
I guess the fact that the narrator doesn’t learn from her mistakes as fast I wish she would kinda turned me off.
December 30, 2018
Ако сте едно от онези пораснали деца, които все още копнеят по приказното, то най-вероятно ще се прехласнете по „Шепа врани” на Джоан Харис (изд. „Сиела”). Авторката е забъркала магическа отвара от думи, която да изпиете на един дъх. Съставките? Романтика и фентъзи, фолклорни мотиви и съвременни теми, приказни тропи и красив, поетичен изказ. Прочетете ревюто на "Книжни Криле": https://knijnikrile.wordpress.com/201...
April 7, 2019
Страхотни илюстрации и красиво писане (някои описания бяха прекрасно магични), но като история... изобщо не можа да ме грабне. 3/5 звезди и оставам с по-големи надежди за "Шоколад" :)
November 4, 2017
A twisted little fairy tale that gets deeper as it moves. A simple story on the surface but on with layers, the main story mearly feeding into a larger story.
Strong well worked hints of celtic mythology and interesting twist really make this stand out.
Strong well worked hints of celtic mythology and interesting twist really make this stand out.
September 17, 2019
Just read the summary.
Well written. Not really my favorite kind of story but a talented author can weave a tale, both unforgettable and compelling. I wanted to keep coming back and find out what was going to happen next. Beautiful artwork added to the modern fairytale format of the story.
Well written. Not really my favorite kind of story but a talented author can weave a tale, both unforgettable and compelling. I wanted to keep coming back and find out what was going to happen next. Beautiful artwork added to the modern fairytale format of the story.
October 13, 2017
Received to review via Netgalley; publication date 19th October 2017
A Pocketful of Crows is based on one of the Child ballads — specifically, ‘The Brown Girl‘. I have to say, I was pleased to see a retelling that isn’t based on one of the most well known stories or songs. The Child ballads are a huge resource of stories, some of which totally need retelling to make proper sense of them, but people often go for retelling the same stories over and over again. I haven’t seen anyone play with ‘The Brown Girl’ before, and it’s refreshing.
Joanne Harris’ writing has a lovely clarity to it; this book is just a dream to read, with a strong narrative voice. The things that frustrated me are things that frustrate me about the ballad as well — how does the girl not realise her lover’s insincere? Harris manages to make me believe it at times, but I still find it frustrating that she’s so naive. Mind you, it also makes sense, given the extra narrative Harris draws in: the story of Mother, Maiden, Crone. I love the way she weaves the ballad into that shape and makes it more than it is on the surface.
Definitely enjoyable, and I have a feeling the physical copy is going to be gorgeous.
Reviewed for The Bibliophibian.
A Pocketful of Crows is based on one of the Child ballads — specifically, ‘The Brown Girl‘. I have to say, I was pleased to see a retelling that isn’t based on one of the most well known stories or songs. The Child ballads are a huge resource of stories, some of which totally need retelling to make proper sense of them, but people often go for retelling the same stories over and over again. I haven’t seen anyone play with ‘The Brown Girl’ before, and it’s refreshing.
Joanne Harris’ writing has a lovely clarity to it; this book is just a dream to read, with a strong narrative voice. The things that frustrated me are things that frustrate me about the ballad as well — how does the girl not realise her lover’s insincere? Harris manages to make me believe it at times, but I still find it frustrating that she’s so naive. Mind you, it also makes sense, given the extra narrative Harris draws in: the story of Mother, Maiden, Crone. I love the way she weaves the ballad into that shape and makes it more than it is on the surface.
Definitely enjoyable, and I have a feeling the physical copy is going to be gorgeous.
Reviewed for The Bibliophibian.
April 13, 2019
Read it in an hour. Gorgeous.
May 22, 2018
A dark, whimsical tale about why you should never let someone tame you if you’re a wild thing. A story of love, betrayal and vengeance.
Our unnamed protagonist is one of the traveling folk. Called such as they can travel within anything in nature. She has survived the wilds by herself her whole life, until one day when a handsome boy comes along and steals her heart. As boys do, he proceeds to break it. Not only that, but he has done the worst thing, he has named her. Being named takes away her abilities to travel, to be free. The only way to become unnamed again, is for your name to be forgotten. Oh, and sprinkle that with a little vengeance on the bastard that betrayed you.
I really enjoyed the writing style and the artwork was great too. It was an easy read and I recommend giving it a try. I’m not sure if I would run off and attempt some of the author’s other works or not but this one is worth the time.
Our unnamed protagonist is one of the traveling folk. Called such as they can travel within anything in nature. She has survived the wilds by herself her whole life, until one day when a handsome boy comes along and steals her heart. As boys do, he proceeds to break it. Not only that, but he has done the worst thing, he has named her. Being named takes away her abilities to travel, to be free. The only way to become unnamed again, is for your name to be forgotten. Oh, and sprinkle that with a little vengeance on the bastard that betrayed you.
I really enjoyed the writing style and the artwork was great too. It was an easy read and I recommend giving it a try. I’m not sure if I would run off and attempt some of the author’s other works or not but this one is worth the time.
October 30, 2017
5 Words: Nature, community, folklore, love, betrayal.
Beautifully lyrical! I absolutely loved it.
Review to come.
Beautifully lyrical! I absolutely loved it.
Review to come.
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