The Duchess of York
Costume de marin, cheveux bruns, anneau à l'oreille gauche. La silhouette élancée et élégante. Une lueur d'amusement et d'ironie bienveillante dans le regard. L'air de se tenir à distance. L'art d'observer choses et gens avec détachement. Certains le disent pirate.
Lui se prétend gentilhomme de fortune... Ainsi apparaît Corto Maltese, fils d'une gitane andalouse et d'un marin des Cornouailles.
Une gueule, une personnalité, un destin. Une légende de la bande dessinée devenue légende tout court. Certes, Corto est une créature de papier, inventée par le grand Hugo Pratt. Mais à force de le voir hanter notre imaginaire, on finit par s'interroger. Et s'il avait réellement existé ? Et si Pratt ne s'était fait que le dépositaire de ses souvenirs, l'humble biographe d'une destinée trop belle pour n'être qu'une simple fiction ?Corto Maltese voit le jour en 1967, dans La Ballade de la mer salée. Piètres débuts : quand le lecteur fait sa connaissance, il est torse nu, pas rasé, pieds et mains attachés à un radeau grossier, en train de dériver au gré des courants du Pacifique. Mais très vite, Hugo Pratt en fait son personnage fétiche et lui offre une vie hors du commun. Corto a traversé le siècle et parcouru le vaste monde. Sa route a croisé celles de grandes figures de l'Histoire. Il s'est initié aux mystères de l'ésotérisme, frotté aux secrets de la kabbale et de la franc-maçonnerie. Mais s'est toujours voulu un homme libre, refusant tout embrigadement, gardant ses distances avec les dogmes et les drapeaux de toutes sortes.
Un homme également libre de tout engagement avec les femmes, même si elles occupent une place essentielle dans l'existence de cet incorrigible romantique. Et puis, un jour des années trente, quelque part du côté de l'Espagne, alors que tonnent les canons de la guerre civile, on perd sa trace. Corto, pourtant, n'est pas mort. Il s'est simplement retiré pour achever sa vie près de l'océan Pacifique, à l'abri du tumulte du monde. Mais Corto Maltese reste à jamais présent pour ses lecteurs, qui puisent dans les livres d'Hugo Pratt de quoi nourrir leurs rêves d'ailleurs. --Gilbert Jacques
On a secluded hillside in Jamaica lies Firefly, Noël Coward’s peaceful retreat.
Here, between sundowners and sunsets, brandies and cigarettes, the seventy-one-year-old Coward whiles away his days – a comforting, frustrating pattern of unwanted breakfasts, reluctant walks, graceless dips in the pool – in the company of his manservant Patrice. Both of them dream of a London that is long-gone or imagined: Noël’s peopled with glamorous friends – Redgrave, Olivier, O’Toole – and Patrice’s a picture-postcard vision of elegance and opportunity. Set over a series of summer days in the early 1970s, Firefly flits through Coward’s dreams and memories, his successes and regrets, against a sultry, seductive backdrop of blue skies and glistening water. Colourful and contemplative, this is a moving and poignant portrait of old age and friendship, and a life well lived.
Across the dramatic landscape of the Pacific Northwest’s Olympic Peninsula, Donahue’s characters take extraordinary actions to transcend the limitations imposed upon them. Marguerite struggles with the emotional aftermath of sexual assault amid the mysticism and untamed wilderness of the Pacific coast in the 1920s.
Avery navigates life as a “juvenile delinquent” while the social and political convulsions of the 1960s transform the world around him. Chris escapes the present-day mill town where he grew up, only to find he must reconcile his true self with the troubling persona he’s taken on. In his newest work of literary fiction, Donahue distills the raw and vivid world of the Olympic Peninsula into a stunning work that challenges what it means to live life with purpose and integrity.
My name is Alexis Delaney, and I’m your average 17-year-old girl. Except I’m a Necromancer. Which means I can see the dead, talk to them and help them move on. Well, I used to be able to. Someone has sealed the Veil.
Now the dead are stuck here. And with the extra energy floating around town, the ghosts are getting stronger. It’s been two months since I came to Spring Mountain to live with Uncle Rory. And the guys, my five best friends, have done everything they can to help since. Things for once were almost normal, my issues with the dead had become routine. Until they all found girlfriends. Now I’m back to hiding everything again. With ghosts leaving their haunting grounds at will, new people asking questions and trying to build my link to the Veil, I don’t know how the hell I’m going to pull this one off. But it can’t get that bad, right?
The Tiger Roars again! Sandokan and Yanez are back, righting injustices and fighting old foes.
Tremal-Naik's misfortunes have continued. Wrongfully imprisoned, the great hunter has been banished from India and sentenced to life in a penal colony. Knowing his master is innocent, Kammamuri dashes off to the rescue, planning to free the good hunter at the first opportunity. When the ever-loyal servant is captured by the Tigers of Mompracem, he manages to enlist their services. But in order to succeed, Sandokan and Yanez must lead their men against the forces of James Brooke, 'The Exterminator', the dreaded White Rajah of Sarawak.
"Nunez ponders the cultural, racial, familial, social, and personal experiences that led to what she ultimately understands was a deeply loving union between her parents. A beautifully written exploration of the complexities of marriage and family life." -- Booklist (starred review) "Through her thoughtful and articulate writing, Nunez offers a valuable perspective on the racism that she experienced, even in America, and the damage the Catholic Church does to women who follow the 'no artificial birth control' rule. Recommended for memoir enthusiasts and readers interested in Caribbean literature." -- Library Journal "A celebration of understanding and empathy." --Chicago Center for Literature and Photography “Not for Everyday Use is a gorgeous tapestry of mourning and redemption. Nunez is an astonishing writer, approaching the page with both skill and heart. Her memories are well-deep and love-strong. With insights that are both sharp and tender, this is a memoir that will change the way you understand your family, and the world.” --Tayari Jones, author of Silver Sparrow "Elizabeth Nunez has written a book about love: love of family, love of place, love of literature, and even the love of human flaws. Not for Everyday Use manages to be a memoir rich with tenderness that doesn't shy away from pain and loss. Reading this book was like sitting with a dear friend for a long conversation and only later realizing I'd been in the presence of a true artist.
It's not easy to sound casual but attain the profound yet somehow Nunez pulls it off, page after page." --Victor LaValle, author of The Devil in Silver “Elizabeth Nunez, in a clear, unsentimental, hard-hitting, and direct voice, skillfully structures the story of a mixed-race Portuguese and Trinidadian Roman Catholic family around the preparations for her mother’s funeral...At the heart of this story is the relationship between a mother and a daughter, a daughter who leaves home as a young girl to continue her education and make her life in the United States of America. Some of the most poignant moments are those in which the author describes her feelings of belonging and not belonging to ‘home.’ This is a story that will speak both to Caribbean people ‘at home’ and those who have left to make their home elsewhere.” --Lawrence Scott, author of Light Falling on Bamboo Tracing the four days from the moment she gets the call that every immigrant fears to the burial of her mother, Elizabeth Nunez tells the haunting story of her lifelong struggle to cope with the consequences of the "sterner stuff" of her parents' ambitions for their children and her mother's seemingly unbreakable conviction that displays of affection are not for everyday use. But Nunez sympathizes with her parents, whose happiness is constrained by the oppressive strictures of colonialism, by the Catholic Church’s prohibition of artificial birth control which her mother obeys, terrified by the threat of eternal damnation (her mother gets pregnant fourteen times: nine live births and five miscarriages which almost kill her), and by what Malcolm Gladwell refers to as the “privilege of skin color” in his mother’s Caribbean island homeland where “the brown-skinned classes...came to fetishize their lightness.” Still, a fierce love holds this family together, and the passionate, though complex, love Nunez’s parents have for each other will remind readers of the passion between the aging lovers in Gabriel García Márquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera. Written in exquisite prose by a writer the New York Times Book Review calls “a master at pacing and plotting,” Not for Everyday Use is a page-turner that readers will find impossible to put down.