49. the ANGEL'S GAME

Carlos Luis Zafon 2008
translated by Lucia Graves 2009

This author is such an imaginative storyteller and just like his first book, this second book is a web of intricate plots and subplots of complex and dark stories set in Barcelona and stitched together by the protagonist David Martin's love for books and a woman named Cristina.

"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 poson 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 most: his name printed on a iserable piece of paper that surely will outlive him."

"Envy is the religion of the mediocre. It comforts them, it soothes their worries, and finally it rots their souls, allowing them to justify their meanness and their greed until they believe these to be virtues."

"Dear David, Life is filled with great expectations. When you are ready to make yours come true, get in touch with me. I'll be waiting. Your friend and reader, A.C."

"The whole of Barcelona stretched out of my feet and I wanted to believe that when I opened those windows--my new windows--each evening its streets would whisper stories to me, secrets in my ear, that I could catch on paper and narrate to whomever cared to listen."

"The only way you can truly get to know an author is through the trail of ink he leaves behind him. The person you think you see is only an empty character: truth is always hidden in fiction."

"I stepped into the bookshop and breathed in that perfume of paper and magic that strangely no one had ever thought of bottling."

"Ignatius B. Samson, welcome to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books...Article two: upon adopting a book you undertake to protect it and do all you can to ensure it is never lost. For life."

"Some like to believe that it's the book that chooses the person. Destiny, in other words. What you see here is the sum of centuries of books that have been lost and forgotten, books condemned to be destroyed and silenced forever, books that preserve the memory and soul of times and marvels that no one remembers anymore."

"Every book, every volume you see, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and the soul of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens."

"Everything is a tale, Martin. What we believe, what we know, what we remember, even what we dream. Everything is a story, a narrative, a sequence of events with characters communicating an emotional content. We only accept as true what can be narrated."

"Isabella, if you really want to devote yourself to writing, or at least to writing something others will read, you're going to have to get used to sometimes being ignored, insulted, and despised and to almost always being considered with indifference. It's an occupational hazard."

"Every work of art is aggressive, Isabella. And every artist's life is a small war or a large one, beginning with oneself and one's limitations. To achieve anything you must first have ambition and then talent, knowledge, and finally opportunity."

"An intellectual is usually someone who isn't exactly distinguished bu his intellect...The incompetent always present themselves as experts, the cruel as pious, sinners as devout, usurers as benefactors, the small-minded as patriots, the arrogant as humble, the vulgar as elegant, and the feeble-minded as intellectual."

"As life advances and we have to give up the hopes, dreams, and desires of our youth, we acquire a growing sense of being a victim of the world and of other people. There is always someone else to blame for our misfortunes or failures, someone we wish to exclude. Embracing a doctrine that will turn this grudge and this victim mentality into something positive provides comfort and strength."

"One of the first expedients of the professional writer that Isabella had learned from me was the art of procrastination. Every veteran in the trade knows that any activity, from sharpening a pencil to cataloging daydreams, takes precedence over sitting down at one's desk and squeezing one's brain."

"Normal people bring children into the world; we novelists bring books. We are condemned to put our whole lives into them, even though they hardly thank us for it. We are condemned to die in their pages and sometimes even to let our books be the ones who, in the end, will take our lives."

"The most despicable humans are the ones who always feel virtuous and look down on the rest of the world."