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Monday, April 15, 2013

The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon: First Page Mondays

Reading this absolute stunner of  a novel called The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Ever since I chanced onto The Shadow of the Wind by the same author, I realised he's definitely one of my most favourite authors ever - with that dreamy, magical, mystical and somewhere-else kind of thing to his works.....I was waiting to get my hands on this one and finally did....So as I gobble it up, here's a look at the first page...enjoy..

The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

Act One
City of The Damned

1

A writer never forgets the first time he accepted a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story. He will never forget the sweet poison of vanity in his blood, and the belief that, if he succeeds in not letting anyone discover his lack of talent, the dream of literature will provide him with a roof over his head, a hot meal at the end of the day, and what he covets the most: his name printed on a miserable piece of paper that surely will outlive him. A writer is condemned to remember that moment, because from then on he is doomed and his soul has a price.


 My first time came one faraway day in December 1917. I was seventeen and worked at The Voice of Industry, a newspaper which had seen better days and now languished in a barn of a building that had once housed a sulphuric acid factory. The walls still oozed the corrosive vapour that ate away at furniture and clothes, sapping the spirits, consuming even the soles of shoes. The newspaper's headquarters rose behind the forest of angels and crosses of the Pueblo Nuevo Cemetery; from afar, its outline merged with the mausoleums silhouetted against the horizon - a skyline stabbed by hundreds of chimneys and factories that wove a perpetual twilight of scarlet and black above Barcelona.

 On the night that was about to change the course of my life, the newspaper's deputy editor, Don Basilio Moragas, saw fit to summon me, just before closing time, to the dark cubicle at the far end of the editorial staff room that doubled as his office and cigar den. Don Basilio was a forbidding-looking man with a bushy moustache who did not suffer fools and who subscribed to the theory that the liberal use of adverbs and adjectives was the mark of a pervert or someone with a vitamin deficiency. Any journalist prone to florid prose would.......

- Debolina Raja Gupta