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Ken Follet - THE PILLARS OF THE EARTH

epic The English cathedral stones: a haunting medieval thriller.

Ken Follett is known as a master of American thriller of the most traditional, well qu'haletants. These pages stakeholders in which FBI agents and Soviet spies to track down amid drug trafficking and political plots. With

The Pillars of the Earth , this master excel pen comes in a unique genre with a gusto that few can boast. He gives us indeed a historical thriller, a suspense novel River Electric in England in the thirteenth century.

Tom the Builder is a mason. He lost the site where he works and must take the journey with his pregnant wife, Agnes, and their two children. They travel the country in search of a site where Tom could achieve his dream of building his own cathedral. But soon the famine that is picked in the winter night. Even small sites are so rare that Tom relies on the forest to feed his family. Thus they will meet with Ellen and her son Jack, who lived alone in the forest. For his part, Philip is a monk since he was collected and raised by a brotherhood. It is now prior of a small monastery, St. John of the Forest. Itself, pious and pragmatic, quick-witted and brilliant must fulfill his destiny by avoiding all the dangers: the unparalleled cruelty of a noble family soon at the head of County Shiring, ambition without limits Waleran Bigod Archdeacon Bishop who soon will continually setting traps to Prior.

Many paths cross in the thousand pages of the pad that you can not sit on the bedside table. A decisive event every ten pages from hopeless situations in meetings and heartbreak, it is a work pure and brilliant, a bit raw, sometimes violent, but a realism that is portrayed in absolute rights, medieval society, ambition. It is also the tale of the difficulty of pursuing his ideals without ever turning his back on his principles. And every stone will build more than the most magnificent cathedrals of England.

The Pillars of the Earth is one of those books you lasting impression. Lecture, there are few who grow such literary qualities and philosophical.

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Back ...

After months without publication of a connection difficult some difficulties blog platform (a few tickets lost by the way) and a generalized lack of time ... In short, today I take this blog for new tickets, new readings and so many opinions to share.

A huge thank you to everyone who has continued to periodically review these electronic pages. See you soon here!

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Pierre Desproges - WOMEN WHO FALL

A diamond of social cruelty. A pure laugh.

Back from holiday in Spain (I know that I do not care but it makes me happy) I wanted, first and foremost, to deliver this pure moment of happiness.
Comedian
Desproges is known by everyone for his famous radio Tribunal indictments Flagrants Crazy alongside Luis Rego. Before being taken away too soon by cancer by storm, the most cynical of brilliant minds, the finest detective satire burlesque gave us a detective novel. Yes, officer. The evocative title to boot.

Women are decimated in a small village. The investigation is in full swing.

The pitch is well done. It is difficult to summarize Desproges. As far as the comment elsewhere. It remains only to give way. Whether we like it or not humor - Dark, cynical, caustic, borderline, sardonic - no one can deny the power of his words, the power of his images.

For those who do not know, and exceptionally like Gael, I will deliver the opening pages, the incipit for the purists, this pearl:

"Adeline Serpillon belonged to the overwhelming that most mortals barely assassinate.
She had no money, no love, no hatred, no attractions. His political beliefs led him to shout down gently increases in gas prices, but rarely beyond. She was of medium intensity with more than a common grave, and a full banality of nougat Montelimar. Apart from the soft gray cat who was sleeping on his bed, no one turned it on, much less below. For forty years, she was shrinking with little steps behind the counter of polished wood of his haberdashery that smelled of honey and fresh sawdust, without anyone ever take her in the act of good or bad mood. (...)
Thus it seemed unlikely everyone Serpillon Adeline died one day murdered.
However, on 9 May, the bus driver Nontron, who indulged his son and common buttons, found on the floor sewing in her display. Despite the large carving knife which had been bled white by punching plexus to the navel, and stood there in his belly sad, she kept in the death of the air con saleswomen measuring the elastic pants. "

A great moment of jubilation.