John Connolly - The Book Of Lost Things

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New York Times bestselling author John Connolly’s unique imagination takes readers through the end of innocence into adulthood and beyond in this dark and triumphantly creative novel of grief and loss, loyalty and love, and the redemptive power of stories.
High in his attic bedroom, twelve-year-old David mourns the death of his mother. He is angry and alone, with only the books on his shelf for company. But those books have begun to whisper to him in the darkness, and as he takes refuge in his imagination, he finds that reality and fantasy have begun to meld. While his family falls apart around him, David is violently propelled into a land that is a strange reflection of his own world, populated by heroes and monsters, and ruled over by a faded king who keeps his secrets in a mysterious book . . . The Book of Lost Things.
An imaginative tribute to the journey we must all make through the loss of innocence into adulthood, John Connolly’s latest novel is a book for every adult who can recall the moment when childhood began to fade, and for every adult about to face that moment. The Book of Lost Things is a story of hope for all who have lost, and for all who have yet to lose. It is an exhilarating tale that reminds us of the enduring power of stories in our lives.

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“Who are you, then?” she said.

“He’ph comfany,” said Brother Number One.

“Company?” said the lady, dropping Brother Number One like an unwanted toy. “Well, why didn’t you say you were bringin’ company?” She patted her hair and smiled, exposing lipstick-smeared teeth. “I’d have dressed up. I’d have put me face on.”

David heard Brother Number Three whisper to Brother Number Eight. The words “anything” and “improvement” were barely audible. Unfortunately, they were still too loud for the lady’s liking, and Brother Number Three received a smack across the head for his trouble.

“Careful,” she said. “Cheeky sod.”

She then extended a large pale hand toward David and gave a little curtsy.

“Snow White,” she said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.”

David shook hands and watched with alarm as his fingers were swallowed up in Snow White’s marshmallow palm.

“I’m David,” he said.

“That’s a nice name,” said Snow White. She giggled and buried her chin in her chest. The action created so many ripples of fat that her head looked as if it was melting. “Are you a prince?”

“No,” said David. “Sorry.”

Snow White looked disappointed. She released David’s hand and tried to play with one of her rings, but the ring was so tight that it wouldn’t budge.

“A nobleman, maybe?”

“No.”

“Son of a nobleman, with a great inheritance waiting for you on your eighteenth birthday?”

David pretended to think about the question.

“Er, no again,” he said.

“Well, what are you then? Don’t tell me you’re another one of their booorrrring friends come here to talk about workers and oppression. I warned them, I did: no more talk about revolutions, not until I’ve had me tea.”

“But we are oppressed,” protested Brother Number One.

“Of course you’re oppressed!” said Snow White. “You’re only three feet tall. Now go and get me tea started, before I lose me good humor. And take your boots off. I don’t want you lot puttin’ muck on me nice clean floor. You only cleaned it yesterday.”

The dwarfs removed their boots and left them at the door along with their tools, then lined up to wash their hands in the little sink before preparing the evening meal. They sliced bread and cut vegetables while two rabbits roasted over the open fire. The smell made David’s mouth water.

“I suppose you’ll be wantin food an’ all,” said Snow White to David.

“I am rather hungry,” David admitted.

“Well, you can share their rabbit. You ain’t ’avin’ any of mine.”

Snow White plopped herself down in a big chair by the fire. She puffed her cheeks and sighed loudly.

“I ’ate it ’ere,” she said. “It’s so booorrrinnng .”

“Why don’t you just leave?” asked David.

“Leave?” said Snow White. “And where would I leave to ?”

“Don’t you have a home?” said David.

“Me dad and stepmum moved away. They say their place is too small for me. Anyway, they’re just booorrinnnng , and I’d rather be bored here than bored with ’em.”

“Oh,” said David. He wondered if he should bring up the subject of the court case and the dwarfs’ attempt to poison Snow White. He was very interested in it, but he wasn’t sure that it would be polite to ask. After all, he didn’t want to get the dwarfs into any more trouble than they were already in.

In the end, Snow White made the decision for him. She leaned forward and whispered, in a voice like two rocks rubbing together: “Anyway, they ’ave to look after me. Judge told them they ’ad to, on account of how they tried to poison me.”

David didn’t think he’d want to live with someone who had already tried to poison him once, but he supposed that Snow White wasn’t worried about the dwarfs trying again. If they did, they’d be killed, although the look on Brother Number One’s face made David suspect that death might almost be welcomed after living with Snow White for a while.

“But don’t you want to meet a handsome prince?” he asked.

“I’ve met a handsome prince,” said Snow White. She stared dreamily out of the window. “He woke me with a kiss, but then he ’ad to leave. He told me he’d be back, though, once he’d gone off and killed some dragon or other.”

“Should have stayed here and taken care of the one we have first,” muttered Brother Number Three. Snow White threw a log at him.

“See what I have to put up with?” she said to David. “I’m left alone all day while they work down’t mine, and then I have to listen to them complain as soon as they get home. I don’t even know why they bother with that all that minin’. They never find anything!”

David saw the dwarfs exchange some looks when they heard what Snow White was saying. He even thought he heard Brother Number Three give a little laugh, until Brother Number Four kicked him in the shin and told him to be quiet.

“So I’m going to stay ’ere with this lot until me prince returns,” said Snow White. “Or until another prince comes along and decides to marry me, whichever happens first.”

She bit a hangnail from her little finger and spit it into the fire.

“Now,” she said, bringing the subject to a close, “ WHERE’S. ME. TEA?

Every cup, pot, pan, and plate in the cottage rattled. Dust fell from the ceiling. David saw a family of mice evacuate their mouse hole and leave through a crack in the wall, never to return.

“I always get a bit shouty when I’m ’ungry, me,” said Snow White. “Right. Somebody ’and me that rabbit . . .”

* * *

They ate in silence, apart from the slurping, scraping, chewing, and belching coming from Snow White’s end of the table. She really did eat an awful lot. She stripped her own rabbit to the bones and then began picking meat from Brother Number Six’s plate without even a by-your-leave. She devoured an entire loaf of bread, and half a block of very smelly cheese. She drank tankard after tankard of the ale the dwarfs brewed in their shed, and polished it all off with two chunks of fruitcake baked by Brother Number One, although she complained when a raisin chipped one of her teeth.

“I told you it was a bit dry,” whispered Brother Number Two to Brother Number One. Brother Number One just scowled.

Once there was nothing left to eat, Snow White staggered from the table and flopped down in her chair by the fire, where she instantly fell asleep. David helped the dwarfs to clear the table and wash the dishes, then joined them in a corner where they all began smoking pipes. The tobacco reeked as if someone was burning old, damp socks. Brother Number One offered to share his pipe with David, but David very politely declined the offer.

“What do you mine?” he asked.

There was some coughing from a number of the dwarfs, and David noticed that none of them wanted to catch his eye. Only Brother Number One seemed willing to try to answer the question.

“Coal, sort of,” he said.

“Sort of?”

“Well, it’s a kind of coal. It’s stuff that used to be, sort of, in a way, coal.”

“It’s coalish,” said Brother Number Three helpfully.

David considered this. “Er, do you mean diamonds?”

Seven small figures instantly leaped on him. Brother Number One covered David’s mouth with a little hand and said, “Don’t say that word in here. Ever.”

David nodded. Once the dwarfs were sure that he understood the gravity of the situation, they climbed off him again.

“So you haven’t told Snow White about the, er, coalish stuff,” he said.

“No,” said Brother Number One. “Never, um, quite got round to it.”

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