City of Saints and Madmen (E-Book, EPUB) E-Book Download In the city of Ambergris, a would-be suitor discovers a sunlit street can become a killing. download city of saints thieves - thurrockfc - city of saints thieves thurrockfc city of saints thieves pdf lucia of syracuse (–), also known as saint lucy or saint. city saints women's team that played at the stadium. the saints won the ebook: city of saints and madmen - city of saints and madmen full download pdf 70,36mb .
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Books by VanderMeer have made the year's best lists of Amazon. He lives in Tallahassee, Florida, with his wife, Ann. For Dradin watches her , she taking dicta-tion from a machine , an inscrutable block of gray from which sprout the earphones she wears over her delicate egg-shaped head. Dradin is struck dumb and dumber still by the seraphim blue of her eyes and the cascade of long and lustrous black hair over her shoulders, her pale face gloomy against the glass and masked by the reflection of the graying sky above. And yet, Dradin surmises, she looks as if she comes from more contented stock, not a stay-at-home, but uncomfortable abroad, un-less traveling on the arm of her lover. Does she have a lover?
Nothing in her spoke of the rough rude world surrounding Dradin, nor of the great, un-mapped southern jungles from which he had just returned; where the black panther and the blacker mamba waited with such malign intent; where he had been so consumed by fever and by doubt and by lack of con-verts to his religion that he had come back into the charted territory of laws and governments, where, sweet joy, there existed women like the creature in the window above him.
Watching her, his blood simmering within him, Dradin wondered if he was dreaming her, she a haloed, burn-ing vision of salvation, soon to disappear mirage-like, so that he might once more be cocooned within his fever, in the jungle, in the darkness. But it was not a dream and, of a sudden, Dradin broke from his reverie, knowing she might see him, so vulnerable, or that passersby might guess at his intent and reveal it to her before he was ready.
For the real world surrounded him, from the stink of vegetables in the drains to the sweet of half-gnawed ham hocks in the trash; the clip-clop-stomp of horse and the rattled honk of motored vehicles; the rustle-whisper of mushroom dwellers disturbed from daily slumber and, from somewhere hidden, the sound of a baroque and lilting music, crackly as if played on a phono-graph.
People knocked into him, allowed him no space to move: Obvious that he had come from the Great Beyond, for he still stank of the jungle rot and jungle excess. No, no. He must not thrust himself upon her. But what, then, to do? Dradin's thoughts tumbled one over the other like distraught clowns and he was close to panic, close to wringing his hands in the way his mother had disapproved of but that indicated noth-ing unusual in a missionary, when a thought came to him and left him speechless at his own ingenuity.
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A bauble, of course. A present. A trifle, at his expense, to show his love for her. Dradin looked up and down the street, behind and below him for a shop that might hold a treasure to touch, intrigue, and, ulti-mately, keep her.
Madame Lowery's Crochets? The Lady's Empo-rium? Jessible's Jewelry Store? No, no, no. For what if she were a Mod-ern, a woman who would not be kept or kept pregnant, but moved in the same circles as the artisans and writers, the actors and singers? What an insult such a gift would be to her then. What an insensitive man she would think him to be-and what an insensitive man he would be.
Had all his months in the jungle peeled away his common sense, layer by layer, until he was as naked as an orangutan?
No, it would not do. He could not buy clothing, chocolates, or even flowers, for these gifts were too forward, unsubtle, uncouth, and lacking in imagination. Besides, they- -and his roving gaze, touching on the ruined aqueduct that divided the two sides of the street like the giant fossilized spine of a long, lean shark, locked in on the distant opposite shore and the Borgmodern sign with the double curlicues and the bold lines of type that proclaimed Borges Bookstore , and right there, on Albumuth Boulevard, the filthiest, most sublime, and richest thoroughfare in all of Ambergris, Dradin realized he had found the perfect gift.
Nothing could be better than a book, or more mysterious, and nothing could draw her more perfectly to him. Still dusty and alone in the swirl of the city-a voyeur amongst her skirts-Dradin set out toward the opposite side, threading himself be-tween street players and pimps, card sharks and candy sellers, through the aqueduct, and, braving the snarl of twin stone lions atop a final arch-way, came at last to the Borges Bookstore.
It had splendid antique win-dows, gilt embroidered, with letters that read: Book upon piled book mentioned in the silvery scrawl and beyond the glass the quiet, slow movements of bibliophiles, feasting upon the genu-ine articles. It made Dradin forget to breathe, and not simply because this place would have a gift for his dearest, his most beloved, the woman in the window, but because he had been away from the world for a year and, now back, he found the accoutrements of civilization comforted him.
His fa-ther, that tortured soul, was still a great reader, between the bouts of drinking, despite the erosion of encroaching years, and Dradin could re-member many a time that the man had, honking his red, red nose-a monstrosity of a nose, out of proportion to anything in the family line-read and wept at the sangfroid exploits of two poor debutantes named Juliette and Justine as they progressed from poverty to prostitu-tion, to the jungles and back again, weepy with joy as they rediscovered wealth and went on to have wonderful adventures up and down the length and breadth of the River Moth, until finally pristine Justine expired from the pressure of tragic pleasures wreaked upon her.
It made Dradin swell with pride to think that the woman at the window was more beautiful than either Juliette or Justine, far more beautiful, and likely more stalwart besides. And yet, Dradin admitted, in the delicacy of her features, the pale gloss of her lips, he espied an innately breakable quality as well. Thus thinking, Dradin pushed open the glass door, the lacquered oak frame a-creak, and a bell chimed once, twice, thrice.
On the thrice chime, a clerk dressed all in dark greens, sleeves spiked with gold cufflinks, came forward, shoes soundless on the thick carpet, bowed, and asked, "How may I help you?
It arrived a fortnight ago from the Ministry of Whimsy imprint-an Occidental publisher, sir. Please follow me. No, sir. Not a son of Hoegbotton. With neither Hoegbotton nor his sons do we deal.
But where was I? The Truffidians. It merely speaks to the general-the incorporeal , as one more highly witted than I might say. It shall not offend; rather, it shall lend to the gift-giver an aura of mys-tery that may prove permanently alluring. The thought made his hands tremble as they had not trembled since the fever ruled his body and he feared he might die.
He imagined his hand atop hers as they turned the pages, her eyes caressing the same chapter and paragraph, the same line and word; thus could they learn of passion together but separate. A map of the city. For the festival.
Dradin, dour-faced, said only, "Wrap this one and I will take the other unwrapped, along with the map," and stood stiff, brimming over with ur-gency, as the clerk dawdled and digressed. He knew well the clerk's thoughts: And perhaps the clerk was right, but did notcanonical law provide for the unforeseen and the estranged, for the combination of beauty and the bi-zarre of which the jungle was itself composed? Would you like to tell us about a lower price?
If you are a seller for this product, would you like to suggest updates through seller support? City of elegance and squalor. Of religious fervor and wanton lusts. And everywhere, on the walls of courtyards and churches, an incandescent fungus of mysterious and ominous origin.
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Please try again later. Paperback Verified Purchase. This is truly a jaw dropping book. It is dark. It is comedy. Shriek Jeff VanderMeer.
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