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Flucht ins Feenland. (1926)

von Hope Mirrlees

Weitere Autoren: Siehe Abschnitt Weitere Autoren.

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1,769498,303 (3.9)1 / 138
The book that New York Times bestselling author Neil Gaiman considers "one of the finest [fantasy novels] in the English language." Between the mountains and the sea, between the sea and Fairyland, lay the Free State of Dorimare and its picturesque capital, Lud-in-the-Mist. No Luddite ever had any truck with fairies or Fairyland. Bad business, those fairies. The people of Dorimare had run them out generations ago--and the Duke of Dorimare along with them. Until the spring of his fiftieth year, Master Nathaniel Chanticleer, Mayor of Lud-in-the-Mist and High Seneschal of Dorimare, had lived a sleepy life with his only son, Ranulph. But as he grew, Ranulph was more and more fond of talking nonsense about golden cups, and snow-white ladies milking azure cows, and the sound of tinkling bridles at midnight. And when Ranulph was twelve, he got caught up with the fairies, and Nathaniel's life would never be the same.… (mehr)
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» Siehe auch 138 Erwähnungen/Diskussionen

It took me a few pages to settle into Hope Mirrlees writing style, with dense sentences. Once I had managed that I could enjoy the story. It seems to be a story of a small country where the people have removed any excitement from their lives - they stay in all winter evenings but have summer get togethers - and fear the fairies over the Debateable Hills. There is a tweeness in the names and, although in some ways timeless, there are candles and frocks and horses for travelling around, putting the story firmly in the past. I was reminded constantly of AA Milne's The King's Breakfast, where the Queen says,
"Talking of the butter for
The royal slice of bread,
Many people
Think that
Marmalade
Is nicer.
Would you like to try a little
Marmalade
Instead?"

The King said,
"Bother!"
And then he said,
"Oh, deary me!"
The King sobbed, "Oh, deary me!"
And went back to bed.

I was looking for some deeper meaning but maybe it isn't there, maybe this is just a whimsical tale and that is okay (or equally possibly I missed the meaning). It is nicely written but I found it a trifle plodding until near the end when the story stepped up a gear and we were in a chase to the end. ( )
  CarolKub | Aug 23, 2022 |
I'm not a big fan of this sort of fantasy. It's a good read as this thing goes, just not my kind of stuff. Whimsical fairy tale with a bit of a grim side to it that is hard to categorize. Probably a bit of an influence on authors like [a:Neil Gaiman|1221698|Neil Gaiman|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1234150163p2/1221698.jpg]. Nod and a wink kind of stuff that is charming and sly at the same time. ( )
  Gumbywan | Jun 24, 2022 |
Gaiman loves it, as well he should-- the currents that run along the bottom of rivers, the slightly malign but amusing liveliness of the dead, the need for ambiguity in border states, all these are attributes of his own fiction. But this one, from 1926, one of the first written texts from that inner country, is different too, maybe because of its loneliness at the time it was written. Its author produced several novels in a few years, and then, with the death of her companion, ceased writing. Somehow you can read that possibility in this story. ( )
  AnnKlefstad | Feb 4, 2022 |
A strange but sweet little fantasy novel about a town in which all things Fae or even slightly impractical are taboo, and so when evidence crops up that fairy fruit is being smuggled in from the neighboring faerie land, various kinds of heck start breaking loose.
There are some beautiful turns of phrase in here, but the plot is plodding and the characters mostly flat. It's...a mixed bag. If you prize language over story, go for it, but otherwise, YMMV. ( )
  electrascaife | Dec 5, 2021 |
Right... well... i don’t know what that was. It reminded me most of the film ‘The Village’. You have this county but over the hills is where ‘they’ live. The faeries, and going there is instant death and you shouldn’t even mention them really or do anything different from what we’ve always done etc.

It gets quite Satanic at times, if satan happened to be king of the faeries. However the creepy aspects don’t last very long because there's no main character to provide any jeopardy and the closest things to main characters never feel any fear about anything so your left unsure if it was ever even meant to feel creepy at all. Its also funny in places... again not sure if it was meant to be.

Then there’s all the drugs stuff, then it feels like its going to full satanic conspiracy, then turns into a political coup, then shifts again into a murder mystery... I have no idea what i was supposed to be feeling or what the point was of any of it.

The last 40 pages or so are better... its still a bit vague but at least something was happening. The writing itself isn’t bad, there are some quite Pratchett-esque descriptions here and there.

Overall though... i just didn’t get it, i don't even know what genre('s) to put this in. A constant frustration. ( )
  wreade1872 | Nov 28, 2021 |
The psychologist C. J. Jung maintained that the true purpose of middle age was the integration of all the varying, and sometimes unacknowledged, aspects of our personalities. Perhaps this accounts for the unusual protagonist of Hope Mirrlees’s Lud-in-the-Mist (1925), one of the most admired fantasy novels of the 20th century — and one that is clearly intended for adults. Mirrlees’s book explores the need to embrace what we fear, to come to terms with what Jung called the shadow, those sweet and dark impulses that our public selves ignore or repress. There are no elven blades or cursed rings here; no epic battles either, and the novel’s hero resembles the aged Bilbo Baggins more than the charismatic, sword-wielding Aragorn.
 
Neil Gaiman once said in conversation that Lud-in-the-Mist "deals with the central matter of fantasy -- the reconciliation of the fantastic and the mundane." Which, perhaps, comes as close to the heart of the question as anybody's going to get.

To learn more, you'll simply have to read the book.
hinzugefügt von elenchus | bearbeiteninfinity plus, Michael Swanwick (Jan 1, 2000)
 
The book is a curio, meandering between broad comedy, suspense, murder mystery and adventure, veering from moments of slapstick to moving scenes of pathos. Like all good magic tricks, the charm of the book lies in the craft of its glamour and sleight of hand. While it has its fair share of lo! and behold!, the simplicity of the writing conceals exquisite turns of phrase and an underlying intensity that can burst unexpectedly upon the reader. Nevertheless, it is hard to deny the book's weaknesses. Mirrlees' plotting is episodic, and the overwhelming feeling at the end is deflation that the long-promised fireworks of the final confrontation in Faerie should take place offstage. But by this point, it's clear that Lud-in-the-Mist is not all it seems: what at first appears to be a hotchpotch novel reveals itself as a carefully-considered - if not executed - allegory about the nature of 'fantasy'.
 

» Andere Autoren hinzufügen (16 möglich)

AutorennameRolleArt des AutorsWerk?Status
Mirrlees, HopeHauptautoralle Ausgabenbestätigt
Gallardo, GervasioUmschlagillustrationCo-Autoreinige Ausgabenbestätigt
Herring, MichaelUmschlagillustrationCo-Autoreinige Ausgabenbestätigt
Michniewicz, SueGestaltungCo-Autoreinige Ausgabenbestätigt
Toulouse, SophieIllustratorCo-Autoreinige Ausgabenbestätigt
Wyatt, DavidUmschlagillustrationCo-Autoreinige Ausgabenbestätigt
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The Sirens stand, as it would seem, to the ancient and the modern, for the impulses in life as yet immoralised, impervious longings, ecstasies, whether of love or art, or philosophy, magical voices calling to a man from his "Land of Heart's Desire," and to which if he hearken it may be that he will return no more--voices, too, which, whether a man sail by or stay to hearken, still sing on.

-- Jane Harrison
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The free state of Dorimare was a very small country, but, seeing that it was bounded on the south by the sea and on the north and east by mountains, while its centre consisted of a rich plain, watered by two rivers, a considerable variety of scenery and vegetation was to be found within its borders.
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Lud-in-the-Mist had all the things that make an old town pleasant. It had an ancient Guild Hall, built of mellow golden bricks and covered with ivy and, when the sun shone on it, it looked like a rotten apricot; it had a harbour in which rode vessels with white and red and tawny sails; it had flat brick houses - not the mere carapace of human beings, but ancient living creatures, renewing and modifying themselves with each generation under their changeless antique roofs.
[I]ndeed, it is never safe to classify the souls of one's neighbours; one is apt, in the long run, to be proved a fool. You should regard each meeting with a friend as a sitting he is unwittingly giving you for a portrait -- a portrait that, probably, when you or he die, will still be unfinished. [3]
There were whole chests, too, filled with pieces of silk, embroidered or painted with curious scenes. Who has not wondered in what mysterious forests our ancestors discovered the models for the beasts and birds upon their tapestries; and on what planet were enacted the scenes they have portrayed? It in in vain that the dead fingers have stitched beneath them -- and we can picture the mocking smile with which these crafty cozeners of posterity accompanied the action -- the words February, or Hawking, or Harvest, having us believe that they are but illustrations for the activities proper to the different months. We know better. These are not the normal activities of mortal men. What kind of beings peopled the earth four or five centuries ago, what strange lore they had acquired, and what were their sinister doings, we shall never know. Our ancestors keep their secret well. [4]
[A] very ingenious and learned jurist, had drawn in one of his treatises a curious parallel between fairy things and the law. The men of the revolution, he said, had substituted law for fairy fruit. But whereas only the reigning Duke and his priests had been allowed to partake of the fruit [in the pagan days], the law was given freely to rich and poor alike. Again, fairy was delusion, so was the law. At any rate, it was a sort of magic, moulding reality into any shape it chose. But, whereas fairy magic and delusion were for the cozening and robbing of man, the magic of the law was to his intention and for his welfare. [13]
Reason I know, is only a drug, and, as such, its effects are never permanent. But, like the juice of the poppy, it often gives a temporary relief. [Endymion Leer, 49]
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Wikipedia auf Englisch (1)

The book that New York Times bestselling author Neil Gaiman considers "one of the finest [fantasy novels] in the English language." Between the mountains and the sea, between the sea and Fairyland, lay the Free State of Dorimare and its picturesque capital, Lud-in-the-Mist. No Luddite ever had any truck with fairies or Fairyland. Bad business, those fairies. The people of Dorimare had run them out generations ago--and the Duke of Dorimare along with them. Until the spring of his fiftieth year, Master Nathaniel Chanticleer, Mayor of Lud-in-the-Mist and High Seneschal of Dorimare, had lived a sleepy life with his only son, Ranulph. But as he grew, Ranulph was more and more fond of talking nonsense about golden cups, and snow-white ladies milking azure cows, and the sound of tinkling bridles at midnight. And when Ranulph was twelve, he got caught up with the fairies, and Nathaniel's life would never be the same.

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1 4
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3 62
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