White Resin - Wilhelmy, Audree
17,99 €
inkl. MwSt.

Sofort lieferbar
payback
9 °P sammeln
  • Broschiertes Buch

White Resin is an ethereal love story of the almost-impossible reconciliation between the manufactured world and the haunting and feminine nature that envelops it.
In this impassioned and wildly imagined story of creation, a girl named Dãa, is born to "twenty-four mothers," the sisters of a convent at the edge of the Quebec taiga. Nearby, at the Kohle mining company, a woman dies giving birth to Laure, a child with albinism, in the workers' canteen. What follows is a dream-like recounting of their love affair and the family they bear, a captivating magic-realist tale of origins and…mehr

Andere Kunden interessierten sich auch für
Produktbeschreibung
White Resin is an ethereal love story of the almost-impossible reconciliation between the manufactured world and the haunting and feminine nature that envelops it.

In this impassioned and wildly imagined story of creation, a girl named Dãa, is born to "twenty-four mothers," the sisters of a convent at the edge of the Quebec taiga. Nearby, at the Kohle mining company, a woman dies giving birth to Laure, a child with albinism, in the workers' canteen. What follows is a dream-like recounting of their love affair and the family they bear, a captivating magic-realist tale of origins and opposites, that would be fantastical if it did not ring so true to the boreal north. White Resin is at once a dream-like romance and an homage to gorgeous, feral, and fecund nature as it both stands against and entwined with the industrial world.
Hinweis: Dieser Artikel kann nur an eine deutsche Lieferadresse ausgeliefert werden.
Autorenporträt
AUDRÉE WILHELMY was born in 1985 in Cap-Rouge, Quebec, and now lives in Montreal.She is the winner of France¿s Sade Award, has been a finalist for the Governor General¿s Literary Award, and was shortlisted for the Prix France-Québec and the Quebec Booksellers Award.
Rezensionen
There is something about Audrée Wilhelmy I cannot find anywhere else. It's in her style, of course. In her method, certainly. In her inventiveness, no doubt. But it goes beyond all that. With Wilhelmy, it lies in the pact she makes with the reader, as if the singularity of the universe she offers us does not come so much from literature, as from witchcraft. An ode to all-powerful freedom: of the body, of the land, of language, and of the feminine. Voir.ca