Where are all the young Brazilian writers?
An achingly beautiful fictional account of the rise and fall of the Emperor Napoleon
Preussler’s storytelling mastery and gift for atmosphere render this Bildungsroman-meets-Gothic horror both timeless and splendidly, creepily original.
Authors writing in Czech have always had plenty to say.
The older you are, the less exposure you can tolerate.
I even had erotic dreams in which the chess pieces lusted after each other.
The leg I don’t have is what hurts.
Krakow in my childhood didn’t belong to anyone.
We should’ve sorted it out when he was nine, when he hung the neighbor’s cat.
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