Daughter of Smoke & Bone
My friend Sarah is an avid book reader—and by avid, I mean she puts the somewhat lofty (IMO) goal of reading 100 books a year to shame. She also happens to have the same quirky taste in books as me (I literally have a folder on my kindle called Sarah Recommends), so when she not only recommended, but gushed about this book, I put it at the top of my queue.
Well, I finished it this morning and am still pretty starry-eyed. The author created a world with magical creatures, seraphs and a parallel earth—it’s a well-crafted story. But what makes this such a delightful read is her mastery of language—the book is so beautifully written it reads more like poetry than a novel. I give it 5 stars!
Here’s an excerpt from her site, and it’s available in bookstores (like Powells).
“The streets of Prague were a fantasia scarcely touched by the twenty-ﬁrst century—or the twentieth or nineteenth, for that matter. It was a city of alchemists and dreamers, its medieval cobbles once trod by golems, mystics, invading armies. Tall houses glowed goldenrod and carmine and eggshell blue, embellished with Rococo plasterwork and capped in roofs of uniform red. Baroque cupolas were the soft green of antique copper, and Gothic steeples stood ready to impale fallen angels. The wind carried the memory of magic, revolution, violins, and the cobbled lanes meandered like creeks. Thugs wore Mozart wigs and pushed chamber music on street corners, and marionettes hung in windows, making the whole city seem like a theater with unseen puppeteers crouched behind velvet.”