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9,99 €
| Verlag | Random House UK |
| Auflage | 2018 |
| Seiten | 320 |
| Format | 13,0 x 19,9 x 2,1 cm |
| B-format paperback | |
| Gewicht | 228 g |
| Artikeltyp | Englisches Buch |
| ISBN-10 | 1786090007 |
| EAN | 9781786090003 |
| Bestell-Nr | 78609000UA |
A haunting novel about grief, love, secrets and fascism from the author of Asylum, Trauma and Spider.
___SHORTLISTED FOR THE WALTER SCOTT PRIZE FOR HISTORICAL FICTION___
From the bestselling author of Asylum, Trauma and Spider
'Ghosts of the theatre and the spectre of fascism haunt cold and grimy London in this atmospheric tale from a master of the grotesque.' Guardian
JANUARY 1947.
London is in ruins, there's nothing to eat, and it's the coldest winter in living memory.
To make matters worse, Charlie Grice, one of the great stage actors of the day, has suddenly died. His widow Joan, the wardrobe mistress, is beside herself with grief.
Then one night she discovers Gricey's secret. Plunged into a dark new world, Joan realises that though fascism might hide, it never dies. Her war isn't over after all.
'McGrath is one of the age's most elegantly accomplished divers into the human psyche . . . a master writer.' John Banville
'McGrath is that rare yet essential thing, a writer who can expose our darkest fears without making us run away from them.' New Statesman
'Wonderfully sinister ... a delight ... you are in for a thrilling ride.' Spectator
'A brilliant evocation of the theatrical world's seedy glamour, The Wardrobe Mistress is also a moving portrait of a woman struggling to make sense of her past and imagine a future for herself.' Sunday Times
'[A] rich and highly spiced feast of a novel, even before it reaches its classically gothic McGrath climax.' Reader's Digest
Rezension:
The Wardrobe Mistress isn't just an entertaining ghost story, assembled by a master-manipulator to be full of narrative trapdoors, tantalising at one moment and agreeably grotesque the next: it's also an exploration of the deep mythology of theatre . . . McGrath himself seems ambivalent about the sentimentality he depicts. But there's no political ambivalence here: by the end of the novel, the icy postwar alleys, the shattered theatres and public houses are under the malign enchantment of a quietly resurgent politics. The plentiful mirrorings, the doppelgangers and dybbuks both real and false, make that plain, and make plain that fascism is also a kind of theatre - always already a re-enactment of itself. Guardian
