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Christa Wolf

Cassandra

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Cassandra, daughter of the King of Troy, is endowed with the gift of prophecy but fated never to be believed. After ten years of war, Troy has fallen to the Greeks, and Cassandra is now a prisoner, shackled outside the gates of Agamemnon's Mycenae. Through memories of her childhood and reflections on the long years of conflict, Cassandra pieces together the fall of her city. From a woman living in an age of heroes, here is the untold personal story overshadowed by the battlefield triumphs of Achilles and Hector.

This stunning reimagining of the Trojan War is a rich and vivid portrayal of the great tragedy that continues to echo throughout history.

'A beautiful work.' —
Bettany Hughes
'
Cassandra is fierce and feverish poetry that engages with the ancient stories while also charting its own path. Filled with passionate and startling insight into human nature.' —
Madeline Miller, author of The Song of Achilles
'Christa Wolf wrote books that crossed and overcame the divide of East and West, books that have lasted: the great, allegorical novels.' —
Günter Grass
'A sensitive writer of the purest water — an East German Virginia Woolf.' —
Guardian
'One of the most prominent and controversial novelists of her generation.' —
New York Review of Books
Dit boek is momenteel niet beschikbaar
381 afgedrukte pagina’s
Auteursrechteigenaar
Bookwire
Oorspronkelijke uitgave
2013
Jaar van uitgave
2013
Uitgeverij
Daunt Books
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Citaten

  • Ivana Melgozaciteerde uit5 maanden geleden
    It was for his sake, whom I hated, and for the sake of my father, whom I loved, that I had avoided screaming their state secret out loud. There was a grain of calculation in my self-renunciation. Eumelos saw through me. My father did not.
  • Feriociteerde uitvorige maand
    Keeping step with the story, I make my way into death
  • Ivana Melgozaciteerde uit2 maanden geleden
    The man to whom she devoted herself (‘What a disgrace!’) ‘could not bear to see anyone extended beyond the limit he had placed on them.’ ‘Why am I hated, no not I, the Other in me.’

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