The Last Battle
C.S. Lewis, 1956
Φαντασίας ΝεανικάΣύγχρονη πεζογραφίαΛογοτεχνική πεζογραφία
Ατμόσφαιρα: θαυμασμός, νοσταλγία και φόβος. Μιλά για την πίστη και τη μνήμη.
Μια σελίδα από το βιβλίο
I have been wandering to find him and my happiness is so great that it even weakens me like a wound. And this is the marvel of marvels, that he called me Beloved, me who am but as a dog. Βιβλία με παρόμοια αίσθηση
Περισσότερα βιβλία — C.S. Lewis
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
C.S. Lewis, 1950
The Horse and His Boy
C.S. Lewis, 1954
The Silver Chair
C.S. Lewis, 1953
Πού θα το βρεις
Από κάποιους από αυτούς τους συνδέσμους παίρνουμε μια μικρή προμήθεια, χωρίς επιπλέον κόστος για σένα. Έτσι το BookFeed μένει δωρεάν.
Ερωτήσεις αναγνωστών
- Πώς είναι το «The Last Battle»;
- Ατμόσφαιρα: θαυμασμός, νοσταλγία και φόβος. Μιλά για την πίστη και τη μνήμη.
- Τι να διαβάσω μετά το «The Last Battle»;
- Αν σου άρεσε το «The Last Battle», δοκίμασε «The Ocean at the End of the Lane» (Neil Gaiman), «The Night Circus» (Erin Morgenstern) και «Life of Pi» (Yann Martel).
Μια γεύση από τη ροή
The moment you decide something strange never happened.
I wondered where the illusion of the second moon had come from, but I only wondered for a moment, and then I dismissed it from my thoughts. Perhaps it was an afterimage, I decided, or a ghost: something that had stirred in my mind, for a moment, so powerfully that I believed it to be real, but now was gone, and faded into the past like a memory forgotten, or a shadow into the dusk.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane · Neil Gaiman
The strangest letter a magician receives is pinned to a five-year-old.
The man billed as Prospero the Enchanter receives a fair amount of correspondence via the theater office, but this is the first envelope addressed to him that contains a suicide note, and it is also the first to arrive carefully pinned to the coat of a five-year-old girl.
The Night Circus · Erin Morgenstern
What if death is not life's enemy but its jealous lover?
The reason death sticks so closely to life isn’t biological necessity — it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud.
Life of Pi · Yann Martel
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