The Testament of Gideon Mack
Autor James Robertsonen Limba Engleză Paperback – 17 ian 2007
For Gideon Mack, faithless minister, unfaithful husband and troubled soul, the existence of God, let alone the Devil, is no more credible than that of ghosts or fairies. Until the day he falls into a gorge and is rescued by someone who might just be Satan himself.
Mack's testament - a compelling blend of memoir, legend, history, and, quite probably, madness - recounts one man's emotional crisis, disappearance, resurrection and death. It also transports you into an utterly mesmerising exploration of the very nature of belief.
'Fascinating, extraordinary, strange, rich'Sunday Telegraph
'Overwhelmingly compassionate and thought-provoking. Demands another read' Irvine Welsh,Guardian
'Hugely enjoyable, very funny, deeply refreshing . . . its touch of devilry makes it even more of a joy'Herald
'Fabulous . . . a work of the highest literary quality'Scotlandon Sunday
'Astonishingly accomplished, utterly compelling from start to finish . . . could well be the best novel published anywhere this year'Big Issue
'James Robertson is a brilliant novelist. It's a long time since I read a novel in which the contemporary notions of faith and belief were so frankly tested' Ali Smith
James Robertson is the author of the novelsThe Fanatic,Joseph Knight, The Testament of Gideon Mack,And the Land Lay StillandThe Professor of Truth.The Testament of Gideon Mackwas longlisted for the 2006 Man Booker Prize, picked by Richard and Judy's Book Club, and shortlisted for the Saltire Book of the Year award, andAnd the Land Lay Stillwas the winner of the Saltire Book of the Year Award 2010.
| Toate formatele și edițiile | Preț | Express |
|---|---|---|
| Paperback (2) | 54.31 lei 25-31 zile | +21.24 lei 5-11 zile |
| Penguin Books – 17 ian 2007 | 54.31 lei 25-31 zile | +21.24 lei 5-11 zile |
| Penguin Books – 29 feb 2008 | 128.25 lei 43-57 zile |
Preț: 54.31 lei
Preț vechi: 64.14 lei
-15% Nou
Puncte Express: 81
Preț estimativ în valută:
10.39€ • 10.80$ • 8.63£
10.39€ • 10.80$ • 8.63£
Carte disponibilă
Livrare economică 16-22 ianuarie 25
Livrare express 27 decembrie 24 - 02 ianuarie 25 pentru 31.23 lei
Preluare comenzi: 021 569.72.76
Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780141023359
ISBN-10: 014102335X
Pagini: 400
Ilustrații: none
Dimensiuni: 129 x 198 x 24 mm
Greutate: 0.28 kg
Editura: Penguin Books
Colecția Penguin
Locul publicării:London, United Kingdom
ISBN-10: 014102335X
Pagini: 400
Ilustrații: none
Dimensiuni: 129 x 198 x 24 mm
Greutate: 0.28 kg
Editura: Penguin Books
Colecția Penguin
Locul publicării:London, United Kingdom
V-ar putea interesa
-
The HippopotamusStephen Fry-23%Preț: 49.72 lei64.32 lei -
Tales from the Underworld: Selected Shorter FictionHans FalladaPreț: 63.69 lei -
The Tale of the HeikeRoyall TylerPreț: 191.98 lei -
City of WomenDavid GillhamPreț: 103.31 lei -
And the Ass Saw the AngelNick Cave-16%Preț: 53.47 lei63.66 lei -
Preț: 478.30 lei -
Preț: 65.39 lei -
The Dead Wife's HandbookHannah BeckermanPreț: 107.61 lei -
Preț: 220.25 lei -
After YouJojo Moyes-15%Preț: 55.01 lei64.55 lei -
My Husband Next DoorCatherine Alliott-14%Preț: 50.85 lei58.86 lei -
The ChimesAnna Smaill-24%Preț: 48.22 lei63.45 lei -
Robertson, J: Republics of the MindJames Robertson-15%Preț: 54.13 lei64.04 lei -
The DressmakerRosalie Ham-15%Preț: 48.85 lei57.71 lei -
Die BücherdiebinMarkus ZusakPreț: 92.32 lei
Notă biografică
James
Robertsonis
the
author
ofThe
Fanatic,Joseph
Knight,The
Testament
of
Gideon
Mack,And
the
Land
Lay
Still,The
Professor
of
TruthandTo
Be
Continued.Joseph
Knightwon
the
Saltire
Society
Scottish
Book
of
the
Year
and
the
Scottish
Arts
Council
Book
of
the
Year,The
Testament
of
Gideon
Mackwas
longlisted
for
the
2006
Man
Booker
Prize,
andAnd
the
Land
Lay
Stillwon
the
Saltire
Society
Scottish
Book
of
the
Year.
Robertson
is
also
the
author
of
four
short
story
collections,
most
recently365:
Stories,
five
poetry
collections
and
numerous
children's
books
written
in
English
and
Scots.
He
runs
the
independent
publishing
house
Kettillonia,
and
he
is
co-founder
and
general
editor
of
the
Scots
language
imprint
Itchy
Coo,
which
produces
books
in
Scots
for
children
and
young
adults.
Recenzii
Overwhelmingly
compassionate
and
thought-provoking
.
.
.
In
the
hands
of
great
writers
the
unlikeliest
stories
are
generally
the
most
rewarding
Robertson is a true descendant of James Hogg – this is a superb piece of Scottish Gothic
A rich novel of ideas about faith, Scotland and the ways in which fictions shape our lives
Artful and lyrical . . . you are under the influence of a master storyteller . . . this book promises to become a Scottish masterpiece
Robertson is a true descendant of James Hogg – this is a superb piece of Scottish Gothic
A rich novel of ideas about faith, Scotland and the ways in which fictions shape our lives
Artful and lyrical . . . you are under the influence of a master storyteller . . . this book promises to become a Scottish masterpiece
Extras
When I was a child I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: yet I was already, in so many ways, the man I would become. I think back on how cold I was, even then. It is hard to recall, now that I burn with this dry, feverish fire, but cold I certainly was. There was ice built around my heart, years of it. How could it have been otherwise? The manse at Ochtermill saw to that.
I have walked and run through this world pretending emotions rather than feeling them. Oh, I could feel pain, physical pain, but I had to imagine joy, sorrow, anger. As for love, I didn't know what it meant. But I learned early to keep myself well disguised. To the world at large I was just Gideon Mack, a dutiful wee boy growing in the shadow of his father and of the Kirk.
As that wee boy I was taught that, solitary though I might be, I was never alone. Always there was one who walked beside me. I could not see him, but he was there, constant at my side. I wanted to know him, to love and be loved by him, but he did not reveal himself. He frightened me. I had neither the courage to reject him nor the capacity to embrace him.
This is the hard lesson of my life: love is not in us from the beginning, like an instinct; love is no more original to human beings than sin. Like sin, it has to be learned.
Then I put away childish things, and for years I thought I saw with the clarity of reason. I did not believe in anything I could not see. I mocked at shadows and sprites. That constant companion was not there at all: I did not believe in him, and he did not reveal himself to me. Yet, through circumstances and through choice, I was to become his servant, a minister of religion. How ironic this is, and yet how natural, as if the path were laid out for me from birth, and though I wandered a little from it, distracted or deluded here and there, yet I was always bound to return to it again.
And all the while this fire was burning deep inside me. I kept it battened down, the door of the furnace tightly shut, because that seemed necessary in order to through life. I never savoured life for what it was: I only wanted to get to the next stage of it. I wish now I'd taken a little more time, but it is too late for such regrets. I was like the child in the cinema whose chief anticipation lies not in the film but in wondering what he will do after it is over; I was the reader who hurries through a 500–page novel not to see what will happen but simply to get to the end. And now, despite everything, I am there, and for this I must thank that other companion, in whom also I did not believe, but who has shown me a way through the shadows and beyond the shadows.
I have not preached for weeks, yet I am full of texts. If I am a prophet then I have yet to be heard. If I am Jonah, then the fish has vomited me out but nobody believes where I have been: nobody except the one who saved me from the belly of hell. Who am I? I am Gideon Mack, time–server, charlatan, hypocrite, God's groveling, apologist; the man who saw the Stone, the man that was drowned and that the waters gave back, the mad minister who met with the Devil and lived to tell the tale. And hence my third non–Scriptural text, for what is religion if not a kind of madness, and what is madness without a touch of religion? And yet there is peace and sanctuary in religion too—it is the asylum to which all poor crazed sinners may come at last, the door which will always open to us if we can find the courage to knock.
Few suspected it, but all my life was a lie from the age of nine (when, through deceit, I almost succeeded in killing my father); all my words were spoken with the tongue of a serpent, and what love I gave or felt came from a dissembling heart. Then I saw the Stone, and nothing was the same again. This is my testimony. Read it and believe it, or believe it not. You may judge me a liar, a cheat, a madman, I do not care. I am beyond questions of probity or sanity now. I am at the gates of the realm of knowledge, and one day soon I will pass through them.
I have walked and run through this world pretending emotions rather than feeling them. Oh, I could feel pain, physical pain, but I had to imagine joy, sorrow, anger. As for love, I didn't know what it meant. But I learned early to keep myself well disguised. To the world at large I was just Gideon Mack, a dutiful wee boy growing in the shadow of his father and of the Kirk.
As that wee boy I was taught that, solitary though I might be, I was never alone. Always there was one who walked beside me. I could not see him, but he was there, constant at my side. I wanted to know him, to love and be loved by him, but he did not reveal himself. He frightened me. I had neither the courage to reject him nor the capacity to embrace him.
This is the hard lesson of my life: love is not in us from the beginning, like an instinct; love is no more original to human beings than sin. Like sin, it has to be learned.
Then I put away childish things, and for years I thought I saw with the clarity of reason. I did not believe in anything I could not see. I mocked at shadows and sprites. That constant companion was not there at all: I did not believe in him, and he did not reveal himself to me. Yet, through circumstances and through choice, I was to become his servant, a minister of religion. How ironic this is, and yet how natural, as if the path were laid out for me from birth, and though I wandered a little from it, distracted or deluded here and there, yet I was always bound to return to it again.
And all the while this fire was burning deep inside me. I kept it battened down, the door of the furnace tightly shut, because that seemed necessary in order to through life. I never savoured life for what it was: I only wanted to get to the next stage of it. I wish now I'd taken a little more time, but it is too late for such regrets. I was like the child in the cinema whose chief anticipation lies not in the film but in wondering what he will do after it is over; I was the reader who hurries through a 500–page novel not to see what will happen but simply to get to the end. And now, despite everything, I am there, and for this I must thank that other companion, in whom also I did not believe, but who has shown me a way through the shadows and beyond the shadows.
I have not preached for weeks, yet I am full of texts. If I am a prophet then I have yet to be heard. If I am Jonah, then the fish has vomited me out but nobody believes where I have been: nobody except the one who saved me from the belly of hell. Who am I? I am Gideon Mack, time–server, charlatan, hypocrite, God's groveling, apologist; the man who saw the Stone, the man that was drowned and that the waters gave back, the mad minister who met with the Devil and lived to tell the tale. And hence my third non–Scriptural text, for what is religion if not a kind of madness, and what is madness without a touch of religion? And yet there is peace and sanctuary in religion too—it is the asylum to which all poor crazed sinners may come at last, the door which will always open to us if we can find the courage to knock.
Few suspected it, but all my life was a lie from the age of nine (when, through deceit, I almost succeeded in killing my father); all my words were spoken with the tongue of a serpent, and what love I gave or felt came from a dissembling heart. Then I saw the Stone, and nothing was the same again. This is my testimony. Read it and believe it, or believe it not. You may judge me a liar, a cheat, a madman, I do not care. I am beyond questions of probity or sanity now. I am at the gates of the realm of knowledge, and one day soon I will pass through them.
Descriere
Descriere de la o altă ediție sau format:
Scottish author Robertson takes a tantalizing trip into the spiritual by way of a haunting paranormal mystery. Rescued from certain death by the devil himself, an atheist preacher recovers his faith only to lose his place in his community.
Scottish author Robertson takes a tantalizing trip into the spiritual by way of a haunting paranormal mystery. Rescued from certain death by the devil himself, an atheist preacher recovers his faith only to lose his place in his community.