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Informationen zum Autor Erika Johansen grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. She went to Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania, attended the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and eventually became an attorney, but she never stopped writing. She lives in England. Klappentext "Light and dark: this is the destiny placed upon Natasha and Clara, the birthright bestowed by their godfather, the mysterious sorcerer Drosselmeyer. Clara, the favorite, grows into beauty and ease, while Natasha is cursed to live in her sister's shadow. But one fateful Christmas Eve, Natasha gets her chance at revenge. For Drosselmeyer has brought the Nutcracker, an enchanted present that offers entry into a deceptively beautiful world: the Kingdom of Sweets. In this land of snow and sugar, Natasha is presented with a power far greater than Drosselmeyer: the Sugar Plum Fairy, who is also full of gifts--and dreadful bargains"-- Leseprobe 1 Anastasia, can I ask you a question?" Our cook cursed, levering a tray of buns from the oven. The kitchen was her unquestioned domain, but still she always seemed slightly harried, even in her element. She put the tray on the cooling rack and turned back to me, wiping her hands. "Ask quickly, girl." "You know how to mix . . . medicine." She had told me never to call it what it was; even the floorboards had ears in our house. "Aye, medicine," Anastasia replied, tipping me a wink. Above our heads, the wind hooted in the rafters. A storm was on the way for Christmas, such a fearsome storm that the railroads had been shut down, the sailors on the river forced to spend Christmas Eve lashing ships to the dock. "Do you know how to make other things?" "Like what?" "Like-" I swallowed. "Like a love potion?" She froze in the act of glazing a joint of beef, fixing me with a cold glare. "And if I did know such a thing?" "I don't know. I just thought-" "Thought what? Would you be like your mother, gazing into a crystal ball for what you can't have? Would you seek by foul means what you cannot get by fair?" I shook my head, feeling my cheeks burn. "I know you've lost all sense about that Liebermann boy, but only the foolish meddle with love magic, child. Being adored is for pretty girls; you must be content with what you are." "Were you a pretty girl, Tasia?" The moment I asked, I regretted it. Anastasia was old, with whitening hair and a spinster's sticklike body. But she didn't seem to take offense. She dipped the brush into the sauce and made slow, deliberate strokes with it, as though she were painting a masterpiece rather than glazing a side of beef. "No, not pretty, Nat. Not unloved, but never adored. And I'll tell you something else: a man like your Conrad may like a plain girl, may even come to care for one. But she'll always be the one he settles for in place of the beautiful woman he can't have. And when the opportunity presents, he will not hesitate." I shrank from her words, the hopelessness in them. Conrad didn't love me, I knew that. But he could. He could. If I could only do the right thing, say the right thing, find the lever that made him look at other girls with such admiration, things might change. "Are men really so terrible, Tasia?" "Not terrible. Not even bad-hearted, most of them. But fools, girl . . . men are such fools for beauty." "It seems unfair." Anastasia snorted, hefting the tray of beef toward the oven. "You'll find no fairness in my kitchen. Whatever you feel for that boy will only end in grief; leave him behind." "I've tried to leave him behind. I tried so hard." "Try harder, then." Feeling myself dismissed, I left the kitchen. I shouldn't have ventured in there at all on a day when Anastasia was preparing for a party, and I certainly should never have asked her about a lo...
About the author
Erika Johansen grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. She went to Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania, attended the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and eventually became an attorney, but she never stopped writing. She lives in England.
