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Zusatztext "Goss upends fantasy tropes to bring to life characters who would have been ignored in the period works that inspired them! and the result is a fantastic! gripping read that feels true to the spirit of the original works! but updated with a modern spin for the 21st century reader.” Informationen zum Autor Theodora Goss is the World Fantasy Award–winning author of many publications, including the short story collection In the Forest of Forgetting ; Interfictions , a short story anthology coedited with Delia Sherman; Voices from Fairyland , a poetry anthology with critical essays and a selection of her own poems; The Thorn and the Blossom , a novella in a two-sided accordion format; and the poetry collection Songs for Ophelia ; and the novels, The Strange Case of the Alchemist’s Daughter , European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman , and The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl . She has been a finalist for the Nebula, Locus, Crawford, Seiun, and Mythopoeic Awards, as well as on the Tiptree Award Honor List, and her work has been translated into eleven languages. She teaches literature and writing at Boston University and in the Stonecoast MFA Program. Visit her at TheodoraGoss.com. Klappentext "Mary Jekyll, alone and penniless following her parents' death, is curious about the secrets of her father's mysterious past. One clue in particular hints that Edward Hyde, her father's former friend and a murderer, may be nearby, and there is a reward for information leading to his capture--a reward that would solve all of her immediate financial woes"--Amazon.com. Leseprobe The Strange Case of the Alchemist’s Daughter CHAPTER I The Girl in the Mirror Mary Jekyll stared down at her mother’s coffin. “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord.” The rain had started again. Not a proper rain, but the dreary, interminable drizzle that meant spring in London. “Put up your umbrella, my dear, or you’ll get wet,” said Mrs. Poole. Mary put up her umbrella, without much caring whether she would get wet or not. There they all were, standing by a rectangular hole in the ground, in the gray churchyard of St. Marylebone. Reverend Whittaker, reading from the prayer book. Nurse Adams looking grim, but then didn’t she always? Cook wiping her nose with a handkerchief. Enid, the parlormaid, sobbing on Joseph’s shoulder. In part of her mind, the part that was used to paying bills and discussing the housekeeping with Mrs. Poole, Mary thought, I will have to speak to Enid about overfamiliarity with a footman. Alice, the scullery maid, was holding Mrs. Poole’s hand. She looked pale and solemn, but again, didn’t she always? “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors.” At the bottom of that rectangular hole was a coffin, and in that coffin lay her mother, in the blue silk wedding dress that matched the color of her eyes, forever closed now. When Mary and Mrs. Poole had put it on her, they realized how emaciated she had become over the last few weeks. Mary herself had combed her mother’s gray hair, still streaked with gold, and arranged it over the thin shoulders. “For so thou didst ordain when thou createdst me, saying, dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. All we go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia.” “Alleluia,” came the chorus, from Mrs. Poole, and Nurse Adams, and Cook, and Joseph, and Alice. Enid continued to sob. “Alleluia,” said Mary a moment later, as though out of turn. She handed her umbrella ...
