Neu gelesen: (als E-Book**)

Pauline J. Alama, The Eye of Night

Ich stieß auf dieses Juwel von einem Fantasyepos, als ich ganz gezielt nach Büchern von Autorinnen suchte, deren Kurzgeschichten mir in Sword & Sorceress gefallen hatten. Insofern ist Alama keine 'neue' Autorin für mich, auch wenn ich sie wohl in der Liste als neu einstufen werde. Dieses Buch, unerwartet lang und ausschweifend, begeisterte mich immer mehr, je weiter ich damit kam. Vor allem die handfeste und ausgefeilte Mythologie mit den vier Göttern des Rades und die vielen philophischen Passagen, die dieser faszinierenden Quest erst das nötige Gewicht verliehen, überzeugten mich. Jetzt wünschte ich, es gäbe noch mehr längere Werke von Alama, und wer weiß, vielleicht kommt ja noch etwas. Bis dahin muss ich mich mit dem wiederlesen der Kurzgeschichten begnügen.

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".. Night is falling; nothing worse," she declared, her voice level but tense with feeling. "Night has a bad name on the earth; we fear the dark as children, and scarcely put away that fear when we come of age. But what would become of the world without night?" Hwyn demanded of me.
"No rest for the weary laborer," I said, "and no cool nights to relieve the summer's heat."
"Very true," she said, "yet there is more: no private time for wife and husband, no sheltering darkness for lovers. And graver: every flowering plant and seed-bearing tree on the earth times its seasons of flower and fruit by the changing cycle of night and day. Without night there can be no flowers, no fruits, no grains. Picture the earth barren, hungry, and hot under an endless, weary day."
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The ghosts, it seemed, only haunted those who belonged to them.
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The only eyes that would meet mine were the painted ones on icons of the Upside-Down God. In this festival time, his image was everywhere: falling, falling, never to quite hit bottom. He seemed a strangely hapless figure. Drawn alone, he was usually hanging by the foot from a tree branch like a tortured prisoner, but smiling as though unaware of his plight. In the Divine Wheel with the other three Great Ones, he sometimes still appeared with a rope on one ankle as though bound to the Wheel and its turning - though it was said that he himself, as the Turning God, started the Wheel's motion and with it time, birth and death. In other images he simply fell unrestrained, unprotected, helpless, plunging toward a doom always inevitable but never realized.
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"It's all right," I said. "I was falling toward you. I've been falling toward you all my life, like the Upside-Down God to the Hidden Goddess." Suddenly the rightness of it struck me, a blow that nearly unbalanced me. "Sky-Raven's Bones!" I swore like Hwyn. "At the risk of sounding blasphemous - what are we, you and I?"
"We are human creatures," said Mirror of St. Fiern, "and in us, the gods are born anew."

(Pualine J. Alama, The Eye of Night, 2002)
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**Nächstes Jahr werde ich E-Bücher entweder garnicht oder nur noch mit einem "E" kennzeichnen. Oder nur noch die gedruckten Bücher vermerken. Das macht vermutlich mehr Sinn.