Книжное
Джаспер Ффорди оказался прекрасен и абсолютно достоин сравнения с именитым коллегой Пратчеттом, всего-то нужно было проявить терпение. Превый том серии про Thursday Next я насилу одолела (не фанатка Шарлотты Бронте и совсем не люблю матёрых и неженственных тёток-спецназовок, а именно такой отталкивающей мне показалась главная героиня в первой книге), зато второй пошел удивительно бодро (видимо, благодаря примеси Диккенса и По), а от третьего - "The well of lost plots", гремучей смеси Джейн Остен и Льюиса Кэрролла и пр. - уже совершенно не оторваться. В двух словах, речь в серии идёт об оперативнице специального отдела полиции, охраняющего литературные произведения, в мире, где книги популярнее рок-музыки, а Шекспир - мегазвезда покруче Элвиса. Книжные персонажи могут мигрировать в объективную реальность, а некоторые живые люди - совершать экскурсии в книги или браконьерствовать внутри сюжетов. Вселенная подробно и вкусно описана, литературные аллюзии бывают очень хитро запрятаны, так что поразминать скрипучие извилины даже приятно, юмор сдержанный.
Вот для примера отрывок, над которым я похихикала полчаса назад.
'Heathcliff is due here any moment,' said another servant, who I assumed was Nelly Dean. 'His agent said he had to do some publicity. Can we not start without him?'
Miss Havisham looked at her watch.
'We could get past the introductions, I suppose,' she replied, obviously keen to finish this up and go home. 'Perhaps we could introduce ourselves to Miss Next and sum up our feelings at the same time. Edgar, would you mind?'
'Me? Oh, very well. My name is Edgar Linton, true owner of Thrushcross Grange, and I hate and despise Heathcliff because no matter what I do, my wife Catherine is still in love with him.'
'My name is Hindley Earnshaw,' slurred the drunk, 'old Mr Earnshaw's eldest son. I hate and despise Heathcliff because my father preferred Heathcliff to me, and later, because that scoundrel cheated me out of my birthright.'
'That was very good, Hindley,' said Miss Havisham, 'not one single swear word. I think we're making good progress. Who's next?'
'I am Hareton Earnshaw,' said a sullen-looking youth who stared at the table as he spoke and clearly resented these gatherings more than most, 'son of Hindley and Frances. I hate and despise Heathcliff because he treats me as little more than a dog - and it's not as though I did anything against him, neither; he punishes me because my father treated him like a servant.'
'I am Isabella,' announced a good-looking woman, 'sister of Edgar. I hate and despise Heathcliff because he lied to me, abused me, beat me and tried to kill me. Then, after I was dead, he stole our son and used him to gain control of the Linton inheritance.'
'Lot of rage in that one,' whispered Miss Havisham. 'Do you see a pattern beginning to emerge?'
'That they don't much care for Heathcliff?' I whispered back.
'Does it show that badly?' she replied, a little crestfallen that her counselling didn't seem to be working as well as she'd hoped.
'I am Catherine Linton,' said a confident and headstrong young girl of perhaps no more than sixteen, 'daughter of Edgar and Catherine. I hate and despise Heathcliff because he kept me prisoner for five days away from my dying father to force me to marry Linton - solely to gain the title of Thrushcross Grange, the true Linton residence.'
'I am Linton,' announced a very sickly looking child, coughing into a pocket handkerchief, 'son of Heathcliff and Isabella. I hate and despise Heathcliff because he took away the only possible happiness I might have known, and let me die a captive, a pawn in his struggle for ultimate revenge.'
'Hear, hear,' murmured Catherine Linton.
'I am Catherine Earnshaw,' said the last woman, who looked around at the small group disdainfully, 'and I love Heathcliff more than life itself!'
The group groaned audibly, several members shook their heads sadly and the younger Catherine did the 'fingers down throat' gesture.
Вот для примера отрывок, над которым я похихикала полчаса назад.
'Heathcliff is due here any moment,' said another servant, who I assumed was Nelly Dean. 'His agent said he had to do some publicity. Can we not start without him?'
Miss Havisham looked at her watch.
'We could get past the introductions, I suppose,' she replied, obviously keen to finish this up and go home. 'Perhaps we could introduce ourselves to Miss Next and sum up our feelings at the same time. Edgar, would you mind?'
'Me? Oh, very well. My name is Edgar Linton, true owner of Thrushcross Grange, and I hate and despise Heathcliff because no matter what I do, my wife Catherine is still in love with him.'
'My name is Hindley Earnshaw,' slurred the drunk, 'old Mr Earnshaw's eldest son. I hate and despise Heathcliff because my father preferred Heathcliff to me, and later, because that scoundrel cheated me out of my birthright.'
'That was very good, Hindley,' said Miss Havisham, 'not one single swear word. I think we're making good progress. Who's next?'
'I am Hareton Earnshaw,' said a sullen-looking youth who stared at the table as he spoke and clearly resented these gatherings more than most, 'son of Hindley and Frances. I hate and despise Heathcliff because he treats me as little more than a dog - and it's not as though I did anything against him, neither; he punishes me because my father treated him like a servant.'
'I am Isabella,' announced a good-looking woman, 'sister of Edgar. I hate and despise Heathcliff because he lied to me, abused me, beat me and tried to kill me. Then, after I was dead, he stole our son and used him to gain control of the Linton inheritance.'
'Lot of rage in that one,' whispered Miss Havisham. 'Do you see a pattern beginning to emerge?'
'That they don't much care for Heathcliff?' I whispered back.
'Does it show that badly?' she replied, a little crestfallen that her counselling didn't seem to be working as well as she'd hoped.
'I am Catherine Linton,' said a confident and headstrong young girl of perhaps no more than sixteen, 'daughter of Edgar and Catherine. I hate and despise Heathcliff because he kept me prisoner for five days away from my dying father to force me to marry Linton - solely to gain the title of Thrushcross Grange, the true Linton residence.'
'I am Linton,' announced a very sickly looking child, coughing into a pocket handkerchief, 'son of Heathcliff and Isabella. I hate and despise Heathcliff because he took away the only possible happiness I might have known, and let me die a captive, a pawn in his struggle for ultimate revenge.'
'Hear, hear,' murmured Catherine Linton.
'I am Catherine Earnshaw,' said the last woman, who looked around at the small group disdainfully, 'and I love Heathcliff more than life itself!'
The group groaned audibly, several members shook their heads sadly and the younger Catherine did the 'fingers down throat' gesture.