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Informationen zum Autor Ruta Sepetys Klappentext #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A gut-wrenching, startling historical thriller about a young man in communist Romania who dared to resist the spy network that devastated a nation, from the award-winning author of Salt to the Sea and Between Shades of Gray . * "Sepetys brilliantly blends a staggering amount of research with heart, craft, and insight in a way very few writers can. Compulsively readable and brilliant."— Kirkus Reviews (starred review) WINNER OF THE CARNEGIE MEDAL Romania, 1989. Communist regimes are crumbling across Europe. Seventeen-year-old Cristian Florescu dreams of becoming a writer, but Romanians aren’t free to dream; they are bound by rules and force. Amidst the tyrannical dictatorship of Nicolae Ceau?escu in a country governed by isolation and fear, Cristian is blackmailed by the secret police to become an informer. He’s left with only two choices: either betray everyone and everything he loves, or use his position to creatively undermine the most notoriously evil dictator in Eastern Europe. Cristian risks everything to unmask the truth behind the regime, give voice to fellow Romanians, and expose to the world what is happening in his country. He eagerly joins the revolution to fight for change when the time arrives. But what is the cost of freedom? Master storyteller Ruta Sepetys is back with a historical thriller that examines the little-known history of a nation defined by silence, pain, and the unwavering conviction of the human spirit. Leseprobe 1 Unu Fear arrived at five o’clock. It was October. A gray Friday. If I had known? I would have run. Tried to hide. But I didn’t know. Through the dim half-light of the school corridor I spotted my best friend, Luca. He walked toward me, passing the tedious sign shouting from the concrete wall. New Men of Romania: Long live Communism—the bright future of mankind! At the time, my mind churned on something far from communism. Something more immediate. School dismissed at 7:00 p.m. If I left at the right moment, I’d fall into step with her—the quiet girl with the hair hiding her eyes. It would feel coincidental, not forced. Luca’s tall, thin frame edged in beside me. “It’s official. My stomach’s eating itself.” “Here.” I handed him my small pouch of sunflower seeds. “Thanks. Did you hear? The librarian says you’re a bad influence.” I laughed. Maybe it was true. Teachers referred to Luca as “sweet” but said I was sarcastic. If I was the type to throw a punch, Luca was the type to break up a fight. He had an eagerness about him, while I preferred to evaluate and watch from afar. We paused so Luca could talk to a group of loud girls. I waited, impatient. “ Hei , Cristian,” smiled one of the girls. “Nice hair, do you cut it with a kitchen knife?” “Yeah,” I said softly. “Blindfolded.” I gave Luca a nod and continued down the hall alone. “Pupil Florescu!” The voice belonged to the school director. He lingered in the hallway, speaking with a colleague. Comrade Director shifted his weight, trying to appear casual. Nothing was ever casual. In class, we sat erect. Comrade Instructor lectured, bellowing at our group of forty students. We listened, stock still and squinting beneath the sickly light. We were marked “present” in attendance but were often absent from ourselves. Luca and me, we wore navy suits and ties to liceu . All boys did. Girls, navy pinafores and white hair bands. Embroidered badges sewn onto our uniforms identified which school we attended. But in the fall and winter, our school uniforms weren’t visible. They were covered by coats, knitted mufflers, and gloves to combat the bitter cold of the unheated cement building.
