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Toll the Hounds: Book Eight of The Malazan…
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Toll the Hounds: Book Eight of The Malazan Book of the Fallen (2009. Auflage)

von Steven Erikson

Reihen: Das Spiel der Götter (8), World of Malaz (Book of the Fallen 8), Malazan Chronology (15)

MitgliederRezensionenBeliebtheitDurchschnittliche BewertungDiskussionen
1,420379,691 (4.09)56
In Darujhistan, the city of blue fire, it is said that love and death shall arrive dancing. It is summer and the heat is oppressive, but for the small round man in the faded red waistcoat, discomfiture is not just because of the sun. All is not well. Dire portents plague his nights and haunt the city streets like fiends of shadow. Assassins skulk in alleyways, but the quarry has turned and the hunters become the hunted. Hidden hands pluck the strings of tyranny like a fell chorus. While the bards sing their tragic tales, somewhere in the distance can be heard the baying of Hounds. And in the distant city of Black Coral, where rules Anomander Rake, Son of Darkness, ancient crimes awaken, intent on revenge. It seems Love and Death are indeed about to arrive...hand in hand, dancing.… (mehr)
Mitglied:Skylles
Titel:Toll the Hounds: Book Eight of The Malazan Book of the Fallen
Autoren:Steven Erikson
Info:Tor Fantasy (2009), Edition: Pocketbok size 2008, Mass Market Paperback, 1280 pages
Sammlungen:Deine Bibliothek
Bewertung:****
Tags:Keine

Werk-Details

Toll the Hounds von Steven Erikson

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After the action-packed [b:The Bonehunters|478951|The Bonehunters (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #6)|Steven Erikson|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1399934281s/478951.jpg|3898723] and [b:Reaper's Gale|459064|Reaper's Gale (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #7)|Steven Erikson|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1356447867s/459064.jpg|4379974], Toll the Hounds fell a little flat for me. However, there were some brilliant moments, the standouts being the meeting of two insane characters, and this:

Sadness was, she well knew, not something that could be cured. It was not, in fact, a failing, not a flaw, not an illness of spirit. Sadness was never without reason, and to assert that it marked some kind of dysfunction did little more than prove ignorance or, worse, cowardly evasiveness in the one making the assertion. As if happiness was the only legitimate way of being. As if those failing at it needed to be locked away, made soporific with medications; as if the cause of sadness were merely traps and pitfalls in the proper climb to blissful contentment, things to be edged round or bridged, or leapt across on the wings of false elation... Sadness belonged. As rightful as joy, love, grief and fear. All conditions of being. ( )
  meerapatel | Dec 29, 2020 |
What a paradoxical book. In a series full of slow burners, this is probably the slowest, but yet most steady, until the most explosive of all of the endings. The Andii being their usual selves are pretty annoying to get through, buy Kruppe's... interesting narration gives it a unique flavour. I can't decide if this book is utter genius, or ridiculous nonsense. probably both.

THE RANKING THUS FAR

DG
  Raykoda3 | Sep 25, 2020 |
4.5/5

This one is hard to rate. It doesn't come close to Deadhouse or Memories in terms of overall emotional cohesion, but those books would be incredibly difficult to beat. I could feel the building drive and tension and almost subconsciously I knew that whatever was coming was going to hurt so good. Somewhere in the middle the book became notably ominous and foreboding and I KNEW it. But I had no idea why. Feeling lost is par for the course with Malazan and I often embrace it for the wild ride that it is, but here I wished I knew more about what I was reading. It could be my own fault for waiting so long and trying to savor these before I run out. It's just that I'm confident I've missed out on a lot of the payoff of this one because I either wasn't paying attention or it wasn't as much of a total emotional draw for me. Despite this, the final 20% of the book will stay with me forever, and for something to be THAT memorable earns a high rating on its own. Let's see how the rest of it holds up. ( )
  PhasicDA | Aug 3, 2020 |
CAN FINALLY READ THE LAST TWO BOOKS ( )
  allison_s | May 25, 2020 |
It took me a long time from finishing RG to getting around to this book. It was great. It starts slow and there a couple of plot lines I didn't care for, even though all of them had satisfying conclusions I just didn't find the journey appealing enough in many cases. But there's a lot of fan favourite characters with good scenes and there's a lot of good dialogue. Epic finale as per with Malazan. ( )
  EdwardL95 | Jan 7, 2020 |
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AutorennameRolleArt des AutorsWerk?Status
Steven EriksonHauptautoralle Ausgabenberechnet
Lockwood, ToddUmschlagillustrationCo-Autoreinige Ausgabenbestätigt
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This novel is dedicated
to the memory of my father,
R. S. Lundin, 1931-2007.
You are missed.
Erste Worte
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'I have no name for this town,' the ragged man said, hands plucking at the frayed hems of what had once been an opulent cloak.
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The world, someone once said, gives back what is given. In abundance. But then, as Kallor would point out, someone was always saying something. Until he got fed up and had them executed.
He was a man who would never ask for sympathy. He was a man who sought only to do what was right. Such people appear in the world, every world, now and then, like a single refrain of some blessed song, a fragment caught on the spur of an otherwise raging cacophony.

Imagine a world without such souls. 

Yes, it should have been harder to do.
Survivors do not mourn together. They each mourn alone, even when in the same place. Grief is the most solitary of all feelings. Grief isolates, and every ritual, every gesture, every embrace, is a hopeless effort to break through that isolation. 

None of it works. The forms crumble and dissolve. 

To face death is to stand alone.
‘Sad truth,’ Kruppe said – his audience of none sighing in agreement – ‘that a tendency towards verbal excess can so defeat the precision of meaning. That intent can be so well disguised in majestic plethora of nuance, of rhythm both serious and mocking, of this penchant for self-referential slyness, that the unwitting simply skip on past – imagining their time to be so precious, imagining themselves above all manner of conviction, save that of their own witty perfection. Sigh and sigh again.'
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In Darujhistan, the city of blue fire, it is said that love and death shall arrive dancing. It is summer and the heat is oppressive, but for the small round man in the faded red waistcoat, discomfiture is not just because of the sun. All is not well. Dire portents plague his nights and haunt the city streets like fiends of shadow. Assassins skulk in alleyways, but the quarry has turned and the hunters become the hunted. Hidden hands pluck the strings of tyranny like a fell chorus. While the bards sing their tragic tales, somewhere in the distance can be heard the baying of Hounds. And in the distant city of Black Coral, where rules Anomander Rake, Son of Darkness, ancient crimes awaken, intent on revenge. It seems Love and Death are indeed about to arrive...hand in hand, dancing.

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