أعيب على نفسي لو لمح لي فكري أو تبجحت ترجسيتي الغريزية لتنقد عمل كهذا ، هنا ومن خلال هذه الصفحة أقف وقفة تبجيل وإحترام أمام رواية زافون .... أي داهية كتب هذا العمل وأي ذائقية سوف ترضينا بعد ذلك الكاتب الذي سقف ابداعه السماء ... غبطت نفسي مرارآ لأن القدر استوقفني كي أكون أحد قارئي نص ريحه العاتية ولشرف الصدفة شاكرآ لأنه ساقني لهكذا اعجاز يخلط حيث الحدث المتماهي مع العاطفة والتشويق.... شكر خاص لمترجم العمل المبدع معاوية عبدالمجيد ولدار ميسكيلاني على هذا السبق في الدقة والإخراج .....ستة نجوم لعمل سوف يسقط في ذهنك حالما يسألك شخص ما هي أهم عشر نصوص قرأتها في حياتك..... رواية خارج التقييم

احساس می‌کردم با میلیون‌ها میلیون صفحات رهاشده به حال خود، جهان‌ها و ارواحی بی‌صاحب، غرق شده در اقیانوس ظلمانی عمارتی بی‌نام‌و‌نشان روبه‌رو هستم که رازهای تمام دنیا را در دل خود دارند در حالی که بیرون از آن دیوارها، درون قلب تپنده‌ی جامعه‌ای به ظاهر زنده، مردمی نادان و بی‌اطلاع، هر روز بیش از روز قبل، حافظه‌ی جمعی خود را از دست می‌دادند و همه‌چیز را فراموش می‌کردند. و گاه با خودم فکر می‌کردم که شاید حتی آن مردمان هم دانسته فراموش می‌کردند، شاید گذر از رنج‌ها و دردهای بشری به آن‌ها اثبات کرده بود که عاقل کسی است که کمتر بداند و بیشتر فراموش کند.
بخشی که در بالا از کتاب انتخاب کردم، به نظرم خلاصه‌ی قابل قبولی میتونه باشه. رازهای سر به مهری که در دل کلمات نهفته‌ن و با رمزگشایی‌ای که میکنیم پامون به دل ماجراهایی باز میشه. و بخاطر دانشی که کسب کردیم، باید بهاش هم بپردازیم. و بهای آگاهی آیا رنج نیست؟..
دانیل ۱۰ ساله شخصیت اصلی داستان هست. پسرکی که با اون سن کمش مسئولیت بزرگی رو تقبل میکنه. پا به مکان ناشناخته‌ای میذاره به نام گورستان کتاب‌های فراموش شده. و باید کتابی رو از بین قفسه‌های بی‌شمار انتخاب کنه، کتابی که بتونه ازش مراقبت کنه و با هر کسی درباره‌ش حرف نزنه، کتابی که از عهده‌ی نگهداریش بربیاد و به دست هر کس و ناکسی نسپارتش.
و دانیل سایه‌ی باد رو انتخاب میکنه. کتاب ناشناخته‌ای که اسمش هم به گوش پدر کتابفروشش نخورده. کتابی که نویسنده‌ی پرآوازه‌ای نداره‌. کتابی که سرآغاز معماهای کشف نشده‌ی دانیل میشه و به تدریج پای پسربچه رو به اتفاقات جدی باز میکنه. عواقبی که با کندوکاو کردن درباره‌ی آثار نویسنده و سرگذشتش، گریبان‌گیر خودش و اطرافیان میشه.

ردپای جنگ
ثافون در سرتاسر کتاب با توصیفاتی که از مکان‌های واقعی در بارسلون میکنه، چهره‌ی جنگ‌زده‌ی اسپانیا رو به تصویر میکشه. به طور مثال بارها و بارها از قلعه‌ی مونیوئیک میگه. مکانی که زندانیان درش زندانی، شکنجه و یا اعدام می‌شدن و سرآخر در گورستانش به خاک سپرده می‌شدن. مکانی که پر از خفتگان شناسایی نشده و بی‌هویت بود.
ثافون به گذشته‌‌ی سرزمینش که دچار جنگ‌های داخلی شده بود، اشاره میکنه و رگه‌هایی ازش رو در زندگی مردمان بینوا نشون میده:

یکی از ساکنان ساختمان به ما گفت که مرد کلاهدوز از صدای تیراندازی و جنگ و گریزهای چند روز گذشته به‌شدت وحشت کرده و به همین دلیل خود را داخل مغازه‌اش محبوس کرده بود. هرچه در زدیم فایده‌ای نداشت؛ کلاهدوز در را باز نکرد. آن‌روز، بعدازظهر، فقط یک بلوک بالاتر از مغازه‌ی فورتونی تیراندازی شده بود و آثار خون تازه هنوز پهنه‌ی آن بخش از روندا دِ سَن آنتونیو را پوشانده بود. در گوشه‌ای از پیاده‌رو جسد اسبی دیده می‌شد که به لطف سگ‌های ولگرد حاضر در محل، شکمش دریده شده و محتویاتش بیرون ریخته بود. در حالی که کمی آن طرف‌تر، تعدادی کودک صحنه را تماشا می‌کردند و گاه به طرف سگ‌ها سنگ پرتاب می‌کردند.

کل کتاب توسط مه غلیظی محاصره شده که شخصیت ها و رمز و رازهاشون رو در بر گرفته. و به تدریج همه‌کس و همه‌چیز، از زیر سایه بیرون میان و حقیقت برملا میشه.

من دقیقا توصیف چنین صحنه‌ای را در کتاب سایه‌ی باد خوانده بودم. شخصیت اصلی داستان هر نیمه‌شب وقتی روی بالکن می‌رفت شاهد حضور غریبه‌ای در آن‌سوی خیابان بود که در سایه‌ها می‌ایستاد، خیره به او نگاه می‌کرد و بی‌وقفه سیگار می‌کشید. چهره‌ی مرد غریبه همواره در هاله‌ای از تاریکی فرو رفته بود فقط چشم‌هایش دیده می‌شدند که مثل اخگرهای سرخ زغال‌های افروخته می‌درخشیدند.

ثافون به جزئیات اهمیت میده. به طور مثال مکان هایی که در حال حاضر با یه سرچ ساده نمایان میشن و با تطبیق دادن تصاویر گوگل مپ با توصیفاتش، میشه پی برد چقدر همخوانی دارن.

با فرا رسیدن شب، چهره‌ی دو اژدهای سنگی، که گویی محافظان چراغ کم‌نور آویخته بر سردر کافه بودند، کم‌کم در میان سایه‌ها محو می‌شدند. درون کافه، زیر و بم صداها، مثل پژواک‌هایی بودند که زمان را درنوردیده باشند. مشتری‌ها از هر طیف، چه واقع‌گرا، چه آرمان‌خواه و چه محصلینی که می‌توانستند نوابغ و روشنفکران آینده باشند، همگی در آن ساعات ابتدایی شب در کافه جمع می‌شدند و میزهای خود را با روح کسانی که، خواه زنده یا مرده، تجسم اسپانیای جدید به‌شمار می‌آمدند به اشتراک می‌گذاشتند؛ با روح کسانی چون پابلو پیکاسو، ایزاک آلبنیز، فدریکو گارسیا لورکا و سالوادور دالی. در آن زمان، کافه‌ی اِل کواتره گَتس فضایی عجیب داشت که هر مشتری تازه‌وارد عامی و بی‌سوادی هم می‌توانست به ازای پرداخت پول یک فنجان کوچک قهوه از دروازه‌های تاریخ، ادبیات و هنر عبور کند و چیزهایی هرچند مختصر بیاموزد.

هم‌چنین سعی نمیکنه با اضافه کردن شخصیت‌ها گیجت کنه. اگر کسی رو در طول کتاب فراموش کردی، با حوصله فلش بک ریزی میزنه تا یه آن زیر لب بگی آها! پس این همون یارو بود. ولی محض اطمینان خاطر سعی کن گوشه ای درباره‌شون یادداشت کنی تا در ادامه به دردت بخورن.

و اما این بشر با بمباران سوالات بی‌جواب به امان خدا ولت میکنه! در طول کتاب از دیالوگ‌هایی که رد و بدل میشن و اتفاقاتی که میفتن، پی میبری که چطور گره ها باز میشن و دوباره در هم تنیده میشن. ولی خیالت رو راحت کنم، چون در نهایت با دندون بازش میکنه!

اما این هم بگم که قصد نداره با طرح کردن معماها از چیزهای دیگه غافل بشه. مثلا از اون دسته از کتاب‌هایی نیست که با اتفاقات پشت سر هم هیجان زده‌ت کنه و دچار فرود نشه. چون به آرومی قطعات پازل‌ رو کنار هم قرار میده. از سرگذشت شخصیت فرعی‌ای میگه که در زندگی شخصیت‌های اصلی تاثیرگذار بوده و تو باید صبر و حوصله به خرج بدی تا داستان آدم‌های مختلف رو بشنوی. برای اینکه در نهایت بتونی با لذت به پازل حل شده‌ش نگاه کنی و پی ببری چقدر جزئیات پیش‌پاافتاده در به تصویر کشیدن کل داستان مهم بوده.

از زیبایی های دیگه‌ی کتاب میتونم به رفاقت‌های خالصانه‌ش اشاره کنم که برای من از عشق های رومخش باارزش تر و تأمل ‌برانگیزتر بود. رابطه‌های بی چشمداشتی که می‌تونن مدهوشت کنن. و چقدر سرشون انگشت به دهن موندم.

از مسائلی که اذیتم کرد روابط عاشقانه‌ای بود که سر و ته یه کرباس بودن. و یکجورایی من رو یاد بلندی‌های بادگیر مینداخت. اسپویل نمیکنم درباره‌ی کدوم شخصیت ها حرف میزنم ولی به وضوح ردپای هیتکلیف رو می‌دیدم.

مورد دیگه ای که جای تشکر داره ترجمه‌ی خوب و پاورقی هایی هست که به درک بیشتر کتاب کمک میکنن. البته که به قدری واضح ترجمه شده که میشه پی برد کجاها سانسور شدن و بعد به فایل اصلی رجوع کرد.

راسیتش این اولین مواجهه من با ادبیات اسپانیایی بود. بدون هیچ پیش زمینه ای تو دل ماجرا رفتم و خوشحالم از اینکه شروع خوبی برای ادامه‌ی این راه شد.

و در آخر پیشنهاداتم برای لذت دوچندان از کتاب:
1.نوشتن اسامی شخصیت ها همراه خلاصه ای از بیوگرافی‌شون. حتی اگر به نظرتون میرسه اون شخص نقش چندانی هم نداشته باشه ولی این کار رو انجام بدین چون در ادامه امکان داره نقشش پررنگ تر شه و به کارتون بیاد.
2.برای اینکه از اشارات نویسنده به اماکن خسته نشین و اگر قوه‌ی تخیل خوبی هم ندارین، این لطف رو در حق خودتون بکنین و با یه سرچ ساده پا به خیابون‌های بارسلون بذارین و هم‌قدم دانیل شین. بدون شک از دیدن مناظر اسپانیا لذت می برین.
3.برای اینکه بیشتر با فضای حاکم بر کتاب ارتباط برقرار کنین، تو زمستون بخونینش. چون در این صورت تجربه ی زیستی ای از سرمای کتاب، خیابون‌های مه‌آلود و اون باد سردی که به صورتتون میخوره میتونین داشته باشین.
4.سعی کنین تو خوندن همین جلد وقفه نندازین تا به فراموشی دچار نشین.

و در نهایت برای کسایی که میخوان بدونن آیا نیاز به خوندن باقی جلدها هست باید بگم داستان دانیل با تمام رمز و رازهاش در این جلد به اتمام رسیده و جای سوالی رو تقریبا باقی نمیذاره.
اگر با همین جلد شیفته‌ی قلم نویسنده شدین باقی مجموعه رو تهیه کنین. اگرچه شاید در ادامه باز هم به ماجرای دانیل بپردازه..

I found this novel by accident, while quickly browsing shelves at the local library, and let me just say it was the best accidental find i've had in years. From the very first line to the end i loved it, and as a reader i am not easily pleased by anything. I love stories out of the ordinary that captivate my imagination and run away with it. That is exactly what The Shadow of The Wind did.

Right off the bat the plot intrigued me, Daniel Sempere is taken to the a secret labyrinth of forgotten books - the place where books are brought for their final rest after the world has forgotten their existence - and told by his father to pick one to always care for and protect. He chooses The Shadow of The Wind and his life is forever changed by his fascination with the book, its author and his determination to uncover the mystery surrounding the doomed fate of all other works by the author.

What fascinated me most as Daniel started to get entangled in the mysterious web of the book and its author's history, was how Daniels life began to mirror Carax (the author of the book). The writing is almost poetic yet simple to follow and enjoy, their are subplots that run alongside the major plot so the book isn't one dimensional and boring.

Overall this is a fascinating read that is sure to take you on an adventure that will make you wish there were more pages to read after you turn the last page. Highly recommended for those who are not afraid to explore other worlds or allow a book to engulf their senses completely.

Exquisite is a word I have reserved for that extra special gem and the “…enchanted sense of promise” that comes with stories like “The Shadow of the Wind”. I savoured the pages, and was mesmerised and captivated with this book that will remain in my mind for a long time. With its beautiful writing, and gorgeous storytelling, it is a story of love, of hate, of tragedy and the dreams that live and disappear in the shadow of the wind.

The Plot

An antique book dealer takes his son Daniel to the secret and mysterious cemetery of Forgotten books, a labyrinth of obscure and forgotten book titles that have since gone out of print but have soul that live on in the people that read them.

“… you only see in them what you already have inside you.... Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it.”

In choosing a book called the Shadow of the Wind by Julian Carax, Daniel embarks on a dangerous path of discovery, when he makes a chilling encounter with who he believes is Laín Coubert the name of a character in the book he has just read; and it is the name of the Devil himself. Faced by this strange and dark person from the shadows, Daniel refuses to give up or sell the book and so a ten-year journey begins and a literary hunt for the Carax’s story and those he loved and lost. The story takes us to Barcelona, into towering mansions and eerie back-streets, and to Paris where Carax wrote most of his novels whilst longing for his lost love, and then back to Spain for the climatic ending.

Review and Comments

The Shadow of the Wind is an impressively accomplished and stunning novel that captures your imagination and carries you through a story or passion and hatred, of heart and soul, of beauty and of longing with an abundance of anticipation, adventure and thrill as Daniel seeks to discover the life and story behind the author Carax.

The standout quality of the book has to be the authors writing style and his extraordinary command over language. There is a dreamlike quality to the writing, that was so enchanting and beautiful, I felt totally captivated and almost bewitched by the story and trapped inside the world the author created for us.

However, the attributes of the book don’t stop there, the characters are superb, so well developed and compelling, that they come alive in the storytelling and with well-crafted dialogue. The plot is superb, however, if there was one negative to add, the flow of the book and structure of the book was not perfect in my opinion because it wasn’t always clear who was narrating the story. Yet any negative is certainly overshadowed by the book’s brilliance, the soul and enchanting but heart-breaking story linking two generations.

I love the quote, “books are like mirrors, you only see in them what you already have inside you”

I could not recommend highly enough. I would give 6 stars if I could.

ايه يا عم الفُجر ده!! يخربيت الجمال يعني :)

I read the opening few pages and instantly knew 3 things:
1. I was going to love this book.
2. I needed a whole pad of post-its to mark quotes.
3. I wanted to read this in Spanish for the rich poetry the language would add.

A young boy Daniel is taken by his father to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books and told to salvage a book which he must take stewardship over. He choses a novel—or maybe it chose him—that touches him, stirs his desire for literature, and forever entangles him with the fate of the book and its author. The strange author died in poverty but now someone is seeking out all remaining copies of his unsuccessful novels to burn. Daniel embarks on a mission to solve the mystery of the author's story being watched by a revengeful cop and the book burner himself. As the story twists and slowly unravels he doesn't know whose account to trust or how it will affect his life.

Wrapped up in the mystery is a message of death: do we live a full life or wander through it numb? The Shadow of the Wind is an allegory for death in a fictitious novel by the same title. Shadow is a perfect symbol for death evoking images of how death can be metaphorical instead of literal—living shadows of lives, chasing shadows of dreams, being shadows of others, letting memories shadow life. Every character had shadows which could engulf them or they could overcome. In this sense death becomes a fate we chose ourselves. For death is not always the worst thing that can happen ("words are not always the worst prison"). Every time the word shadow was used I considered its illusion of death. It was with much thought that the word was scattered throughout the book.

Spoilers
Just as the fictitious novel was an echo of the book and Julian's life, I loved watching Daniel's life parallel Julian's. Both grew up poor without an ideal family life, fell in love with a rich girl who was the adoration of her father and whose brother was a best friend, evoked murderous anger from her father after impregnating her, and when they have a brush with death, extremes of hate and love anchored their fight to survive. As Julian's story unfolds, Daniel unwittingly finds himself in the exact same point of their duel destiny.

Once Daniel is aware of the correlation, the comparison stops. Is it because Daniel consciously chooses to chance his path or has fate dealt him a better hand? Julian wrote "There are no coincidences. We are the puppets of our subconscious desires." But while the message is clear that we chose our own fate, it seems there was no fate but failure for Julian. The sad thing is I believed Julian's love for Penelope as it grew in obsession more than Daniel's love for Beatriz which seemed a happy chance of lust.

Themes of devils and angels are prevalent as characters save and ruin each others' lives. Clara is a physical angel who is blind while Fumero an emotional devil blinded by hate. While women tended to be described as angel and men devil, most characters held both in different shades. Take Julian the angel child bringing life (love, novels) who turned into the devil Lain Coubert bringing death (destruction, fear). But the characters pick whether to accept the destiny allotted them. Fermin was living death in the shadows of the street who had to get over his demons to find life worth living. The shadows for Nuria, Julian, Fortuny, even Fumero didn't have to give them a reason to quit living. They chose shadows.

The book reminded me of The 13th Tale thematically, linguistically, and in delivery, although I loved this book so much more. The way the mystery unfolds finding tidbits from different perspectives enhanced the mystery and aided the depth of characterization. When I can see the vicious wife beater, deceived husband, and regretful father all in Antonio Fortuny I get a more well rounded sense of his motives. I enjoyed how the characters played different roles for each other.

I love Barcelona as the setting. If you've been to the artistically enchanting city, you know it's the perfect backdrop to this eloquently enchanting tale with a gothic feel. The Spanish have a way of making all things metaphorically beautiful. The vivid romantic passages had me smiling and at times laughing out loud. I highly enjoyed the writing and it wasn't until two-thirds of the way into the book that the story finally stole my complete attention. Julian was my initial guess and while the story kept me questioning, it was the best solution and I was happy with the conclusion.

But no novel is perfect; my issues are these:
1. The readymade quotes are extreme. Zafon salvages this by calling himself out on the commentary. He sets the comments up in dialogue and then uses another character to mock the snippets.

2. Perspective, particularly in Nuria's letter, is off. How could she know what Miquel looked at when dying? The chapters of her letters change from direct commentary to Daniel to third-party narrative. Elsewhere in the novel Daniel summarizes conversations in italics but I wondered from whence the interruption of her narrative with Fumero's story came.

3. I always hope historical fiction will showcase a more accurate moral setting, but it rarely happens. While I believed the sex about Zafon's characters, done in secret and with fathers chasing down the culprits, how could they find out they were pregnant the next day? I was also disappointed that all marriages were displayed as wrong and wives disregarded. Oh well. I guess it added to the Spanish flavor of the book.

4. American authors tend to impose unrealistic happy endings while Europeans favor poignant sad ones. At one point it seemed bad things happened to Julian for nothing else than this love of tragedies. It seemed Zafon was going to ruin the characters lives to make a point. But he makes his point with Julian and leaves Daniel to gives us a satisfied ending. A story about the living dead cannot be all bliss but we still find redemption as the characters step out of the shadows and live their lives.

Quotes:
Few things leave a deeper mark on a reader than the first book that finds its way into his heart.
I believed, with the innocence of those who can still count their age on their fingers, that if I closed my eyes and spoke to her, she would be able to hear me wherever I was.
A secret's worth depends on the people form whom it must be kept.
Women have an infallible instinct for knowing when a man has fallen madly in love with them, especially when the male in question is both a complete dunce and a minor.
Death was like a nameless and incomprehensible hand...like a hellish lottery ticket. But I couldn't absorb the idea that death could actually walk by my side, with a human face and a heart that was poisoned with hatred.
The eternal stupidity of pursuing those who hurt us the most.
Paris is the only city in the world where starving to death is still considered an art.
Arrogant as only idiots can be.
I felt myself surrounded by millions of abandoned pages, by worlds and souls without an owner sinking in an ocean of darkness, while the world that throbbed outside the library seemed to be losing its memory.
Presents are made for the pleasure of who gives them, not for the merits of who receives them.
Television...is the Antichrist...our world will not die as a result of the bomb...it will die of laughter, of banality, of making a joke of everything.
I realized how easily you can lose all animosity toward someone you've deemed your enemy as soon as that person stops behaving as such.
People talk too much. Humans aren't descended from monkeys. They come for parrots.
God, in His infinite wisdom, and perhaps overwhelmed by the avalanche of requests from so many tormented souls, did not answer.
Silencing their hearts and their souls to the point where...they forgot the words with which to express their real feelings.
People are evil. Not evil, moronic, which isn't quite the same thing. Evil presupposes a moral decision.
The words with which a child's heart is poisoned, through malice or through ignorance, remain branded in his memory, and sooner or later they burn his soul.
Marriage and family are only what we make of them.
Sometimes what matters isn't what one gives but what one gives up.
Destiny is usually just around the corner. But what destiny does not do home visits. You have to go for it.
Just an innocent boy who thought he had conquered the world in an hour but didn't yet realize that he could lose it again in an instant.
Keep your dreams. You never know when you might need them.
Fools talk, cowards are silent, wise men listen.
Waiting is the rust of the soul.
Sometimes we think people are like lottery tickets, that they're there to make our most absurd dreams come true.
While you're working you don't have to look life in the eye.
Most of us have the good or bad fortune of seeing our livs fall apart so slowly we barely notice.
Time goes faster the more hollow it is.
I learned to confuse routine with normality.
The world war, which had polluted the entire globe with a stench of corpses that would never go away.
The clear, unequivocal lucidity of madmen who have escaped the hypocrisy of having to abide by a reality that makes no sense.
A story is a letter the author writes to himself to tell himself things he would be unable to discover otherwise.
The art of reading is slowly dying, that it's an intimate ritual, that a book is a mirror that offers us only what we carry inside us, that when we read, we do it with all our heart and mind, and great readers are becoming more scarce by the day.
[speaking of television:] The novel is dead and buried...there'll be no more need for books, or churches, or anything.

Una maravilla de libro.Me la he pasado tan bien con Fermín y el conjunto de su verbo,su frescura, su atrevimiento y sus ocurrencias mundanas,que incluso ya le estoy extrañando. No deseo escribir reseña alguna porque seguramente las haya por doquier y de una alta calidad descriptiva.Un excelente libro, y un grandioso/genio el poseedor de la pluma que le dio vida a esta historia.Es una gran lástima que este se haya ido tan joven...tan temprano.Bravo, Zafón...dondequiera que estes.

Well, after eight years, I finally reread my "favorite book" and all I can say is ... THIS. WASN'T. IT. And since I'm unhauling my copy I don't feel like writing an in-depth review because ... who has the time for that?

Basically, every single character in Shadow of the Wind annoyed the hell out of me. None of the characters were complex. We either had good angels (mainly the women in the story, who were written in such an appalling way, it truly reminded me that this was written by a man in the early 2000s... I mean, yes, let's totally shame women for enjoying sex, we really need more of that in our lives *eye roll*), very baaaad people who were basically monsters (like the police officer Fumero whose horrendous actions serving under the Franco regime truly get downplayed by the fact that he is not portrayed as a human but rather an evil monster... like, that is not the point. It doesn't serve us anything to keep portraying people who served under oppressive regimes as monsters, they're not, that's what makes their actions so much more worse) and then there were people who were a little bit in between, like not perfect-perfect, but who had overall good morals and were therefore on the good side (Daniel ... you don't know how much I hate this guy, his school friends, Julian Carax etc.).

On top of not liking the characters, I also hated the plot... because it was so cheap. It's a plot (and mystery) that is completely based off coincidences and "fate" ... nah, you can't fool me with that. It's just lazy writing. Zafón tried to create many parallels between Daniel's life and the life of Julian Carax - the man who wrote Shadow of the Wind, the book that Daniel found as a little boy at the Cemetery of Forgotten Books and that would stick with him for the rest of his life – and due to these forced parallels the plot became downright ridiculous ...

So, yeah, I don't really know what to say. I reread this for my book club. Otherwise, I would've finished it around the 100-page mark. This book is no longer for me. Whilst the flowery language could impress 16-year-old me, I hated it this time around... everything was so over the top and dramatic, I was over the language real quickly. Let's just say, I was super annoyed by the antics and the drama. This was such a male-centred story, I don't think it would pass the Bechdel test... and this book has nearly 600 pages, so, ight, imma head out!

ظل الريح

هذا هو الجزء الأول من رباعية (مقبرة الكتب المنسية) للإسباني كارلوس رويث زافون، الرباعية منفصلة يمثل كل جزء منها كتاباً مستقلاً، صدر حتى الآن ثلاثة أجزاء، ترجم الجزء الأول وسيصدر قريباً وبانتظار الثاني والثالث والتي أتمنى ألا تتأخر كثيراً، فقد تركني الكتاب الأول مذهولاً، هل تعرفون الكتب اللذيذة؟ تلك الكتب التي تذكرك عندما تفرغ منها بلمَ أحببت القراءة من البداية!! تلك الكتب التي تشبه حلماً جميلاً، قصص متشابكة تدور في أجواء محببة، هذا ما صنعه لنا زافون، برشلونة ما بعد الحرب، شاب يدعى دانيال سيمبري يقوده والده إلى مكان غريب يدعى مقبرة الكتب المنسية حيث تحفظ الكتب التي تقترب من الاندثار، يختار صاحبنا الكتاب الذي سيتكفل بحفظه، رواية بعنوان (ظل الريح) لروائي برشلوني مجهول يدعى خوليان كاراكس، من هنا تنطلق القصة من هو الرجل الغامض الذي يفتش عن كتب خوليان ويحرقها، ما هي قصة خوليان ولماذا فر من برشلونة؟ هل هو حي أم قتل في مبارزة غامضة؟ قصص صغيرة تتكشف لنا، نلج متاهة لذيذة، نتعرف على شخصيات رائعة، من منا لن يحب فيرمين روميرو؟ هذه الشخصية الطريفة والمجنونة.

عظيمة هذه الرواية، لا تفوت!!

Dire. The writing is along Dan Brown lines, with flowery metaphors mixed until they become meaningless. From page 1: "My father sighed, hiding behind the sad smile that followed him like a shadow all through his life." How can he be hiding behind it if it's following him? Then on the next page someone is described as having "vulturine features", but in the following sentence he has an "aquiline gaze". This sloppiness is everywhere.

The whole thing feels like it desperately wants be seen as some kind of profound parable, but the only result is that the characters are just implausible symbols. They are too bland even to hate – unlike the book itself, which I loathed.

There's probably nothing much I "learned" in the introspective sense, but this is a novel like a novel ought to be. This is an epic film on paper, gloomy and engaging, smokey, noir with crumbling ruins, young love, disfigurment, lust, torture...the stuff of Dumas, DuMauier and, as of late, The Historian. I woke up at five a.m. and had to sweet talk myself back to sleep: all I wanted to do was read. One Friday, after work, I took sanctuary in The Hotel Biron, those little tables in the dark, pages flickering with candles and drank a glass of wine in solitude, completely enthralled in the world of 1940's Barcelona.
I walked home from the train at night and found myself saying the characters names beneath my umbrella, hoping no one would hear me talking to myself, but they were, quite simply, too beautiful to ignore: Julian Carax, Daniel Semepere, Beatriz...Tomas, Penelope Aldaya and Nuria Monfort.
In a movie this would be too many people, but for this novel they were perfectly seamed, each point of view more entralling and taxing than the one before.
Most refreshing, clearly the author wasn't poisoned with the desire to simply keep the reader in the dark: instead this story, with attention, was something you could figure out--because that's the way life is. The mystery itself isn't supposed to shock you intensely into thinking a book is good, that's a dirty trick. Instead, the STORY carried you. You cared about the story and it was a tragity and mystery all the same, simply because you were invested in these people and what became of them. To know them so intimately from childhood to adulthood and old age, to know them through various degrees of point of view seperation--to hear there is no Penelope, and then to know she is a sister, a love, but to some non-existant...well, it's gothic literature at it's very best.
With a book like this I am almost, ALMOST tempted to give up my most pedantic and pretentious thoughts, paralells and character development--this story is a story and it's just that good. It is the Phantom of the Opera, those dark tunnels and pressure points, a lake with candles or drawing rooms with no fire in the grate and crazy wives being stored in attics over head. This is, quite literally a timeless tale, and yes, reading it will make you smarter, more interested, more cultured (the back of the book includes a walking tour of Barcelona. I missed Barcelona but I am quite determined to go now, with my copy of A Shadow of the Wind in hand, just like wanting desperately to visit Eastern Europe after I finished The Historian and see it all), but more importantly real life simply fades to black as you become completely, totally and fantastically helpless and wrapped up in the lives of others.
While there are fun hybrids--Crash Topics in Calamity Physics, for one, which combine a courses, authors, quotes and plot lines from a thousand famous novels, this book really makes that unnecessary. This is a classic without any help, no cheat cheats necessary. Read it. Read it. Read it.

**I write on books and other stuff at www.snapshotnarrative.tumblr.com

Here is one for those of us who absolutely adore great literature. It is almost as though The Shadow of the Wind was written for book lovers everywhere. An adrenaline laced, pulse pounding, suspense filled, dark and romantic, gothic adventure, peopled with brilliantly developed, colourful, charismatic and ultimately,unforgetable characters. It really should come with a warning as it will keep you reading late into the night and long after you should have put it down. Fantastic! A must read folks. Make room on your book shelves for this one.