Arcadia by Dr James Treadwell (English) Paperback Book

Description: Arcadia by Dr James Treadwell "Magnificent." --Publishers Weekly (starred review) Its a year and a half after the events of Anarchy--a novel hailed as "bewitchingly perplexing and supernaturally entertaining" (Kirkus Reviews)--and the world is alive with magic in this third astonishingly imaginative novel in the fantasy trilogy that began with Advent.On a tiny archipelago out of sight of the rest of the world lives Rory, a ten-year-old boy. He and his mother and a handful of survivors live an exhausting and precarious existence, entirely isolated. The sea is alive, and angry. Every man Rory can remember has been drowned. Everyone knows hell be next. One night, for the first time since the world changed and the curse descended, strangers appear on the island. Theyre on their way to England, seeking a powerful magic ring. And one of them seems to know Rory by sight... Caught up in their quest, Rory enters an England of terrors and marvels, at the heart of which lies a place where journeys unimaginably longer and older than his will reach their end: Pendurra. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography James Treadwell is the author of Advent and Anarchy. He was born, brought up, and educated within a mile of the Thames and has spent much of his life further reducing the distance between him and the river. He studied and taught for more than a decade near the crossing at Folly Bridge, Oxford, and now lives within sight of the Tideway in West London. He holds passports from the UK, US, and Canada. Review "Magnificent." Review Quote "Recommended for fans of Lev Grossmans The Magicians (2009) and other literary fantasy." Excerpt from Book Arcadia 1 From the top of Briar Hill he can see the whole world. Once upon a time there was a stone plaque up here. Rory remembers it, mostly. There was a map on it which told you what you were looking at, which island in which direction. Why youd need a map when you can see all the islands just by turning around--Home lying right next to Briar, blackened Martin peeking over its shoulder, Maries and far-off Aggies across the Gap, and then the two bleak mounds of Sansen where no one but the gulls ever lived, even before--he cant now imagine. Anyway, the plaques gone. Or its still there but buried forever under the gorse, so it might as well be gone. Everyones been telling him how fast hes growing but the gorse is growing faster. He perches on tiptoes at the highest point of the clearing and surveys the world. As always, he looks for the Mainland first. On very clear days, if you face the north end of neighboring Home and then stare over it and way way across the sea, theres a smudge on the horizon. That smudge is the Mainland. Its the only sign of anything beyond the world: another world. Its not much even on a clear day. It looks like smoke, or something you could blink out of your eye. He remembers bits of it, but the memories are also turning into smoke. A year and a halfs a long time when youre ten. He remembers the helicopter most vividly, the noise it made and the smell of it, and the grass buffeting underneath. Other things come in flashes. Big square signs beside wide roads, glittering when lights hit them. The red and green people who told you when it was safe to cross. A paper cup full of stripy straws. You cant see it this afternoon. There are no clouds at all, but an autumn haze blurs the horizon despite the breeze. Everything there is in the world is arranged in a ring around him, islands and rocks. The rest, in every direction, is just the sea. He remembers watching boats from up here, in The Old Days. In the Gap separating Briar and Home from Maries and Aggies, where the other people live there used to be boats all the time, little boats, medium-sized boats, sometimes boats as big as islands (which doesnt seem possible but he asked Laurel once and she said yes, there really were). There isnt a single boat out of harbor. Hes never seen so many birds. The blackberries are never as good around the top of the hill. Hell have to go back down in a bit and start picking. Hes only climbed all the way up because its such a nice afternoon, and (secretly) for the chance to see what he sometimes sees out amid the foam and spray and rocks on the far side of Briar. A glimpse of a whiteness which stays, instead of dissolving into mist. Just thinking about it makes him feel guilty. He fingers the plastic bags rolled up in his pocket. He cant go home until hes filled one with blackberries and the other with sloes. Hed better get started. If Laurel and Pink see him standing around on top of the hill not doing anything theyll tell on him, or at least Pink will, though the two of them should be busy at the Farm and its out of sight from here. On the other hand, the later he gets back to Home, the less likely it is hell have to do another job before bedtime. For some reason this idea makes him remember sitting in the classroom at school staring at the clock. This memory isnt fuzzy at all, even though its been summer and winter and now another summer finished since he last set eyes on that clock. He spent a lot of time staring at it, in The Old Days. He remembers, exactly, which configurations of its thin and thick hands meant happiness (end of lesson, time to go home) and which meant despair (less than halfway through the lesson, less than halfway through the day). Somethings missing from the memory, though. The key to it. What the clock was for, what it was about. Whatever it is, its like the plaque with the map. It must still be there somewhere but it might as well not be. Once his mother took him to watch Scarlets class do an assembly at their school, the big school on Maries, where Scarlet and Jake went by boat across the Gap every day. The assembly was about somewhere called Germany. Scarlet had learned lines about sausages and said them aloud; then the whole class stood in a line--Scarlet was between her friends, who were Tilly and Adam--and sang a song which went O Christmas tree O Christmas tree. Scarlet was so nervous about doing it she cried and shouted at their mother for days beforehand when she was supposed to be learning her lines about the sausages; thats why Rory still remembers. But what he cant remember anymore is what they meant: Germany, sausages, Christmas, Tilly, Adam. Theyre to do with a different world, when there were things other than what you can see from here, on top of Briar Hill. Theyre gone. Like Scarlet and Jake. Someones coming. He can hear huffing and rustling up the steep track through the brambles. Laurel or Pink, it must be, though they crossed from Home at the same time he did so they shouldnt nearly be finished getting milk. If they find him standing around not working hell be in trouble. He pulls one of the bags from his pocket and unrolls it hurriedly. Theres nothing to pick up here at the top of the hill but hell have to pretend he thought there was. But its not Laurel or Pink. Its Ol. This, Rory knows straightaway, is not good at all. Ol stops as soon as he comes into the clearing. "Whatchya doing here?" Instinctively, Rory glances across the narrow Channel towards Home. If anyone was looking across to Briar theyd see the two of them. "Youre not supposed to be here," he says. " Youre not supposed to be here, " Ol mimics, in a whiny voice. "Howd you get across?" "Flew." Rory stops scanning the shore of Home to look at Ol and immediately wishes he hadnt. Ol is grinning a Got You grin. "Whatchya think, stupid? Rowed, didnt I?" "In a boat?" Rory says. Thats how bad hes starting to feel. "No, in a tractor. In a boat? Whats wrong with you?" Rorys never liked Ol much. Hes supposed to like Ol because theyre the boys so they play together a lot, but Ol arranges the games so he wins every time, and hes always talking like he understands all sorts of things Rory doesnt just because hes three years older. This time, though, Rory doesnt care about Ol being rude. Hes much more worried about the fact that hes here at all. "Who said you could take a boat?" "No one." "You just took one?" "Dont be such a girl. Whatchya doing, anyway? Picking? Better get on with it, I bet your mums gonna want that whole bag full." Rory reddens. Ols mother is Molly and everyone in the world knows that Molly is Nice. She doesnt badger Ol all the time. Rory often sees Ol playing by the pond while hes bicycling past on his way to do whatever boring job his own mothers told him to do. Its always Molly who comes by to ask if Rory can play with Ol for a bit instead of working. His own mother never goes to ask if Ol can play. "If someone sees--" "Oh, shut up. I dont care. Anyway theyre all over on the far side. Some stuff washed up. Theyll be busy with it for ages." Ol advances up the clearing, gazing around like hes daring anyone to look at him. Rorys hands are beginning to feel clammy. Ol not being allowed on the water isnt like Laurel not being allowed to touch anything after shes been in the chicken coop until shes rinsed her hands, or Rory not being allowed to use more than a speck of toothpaste. Its proper not being allowed. Its frightening and serious and to do with the things the women talk about in lowered voices in other rooms. Its to do with Them. The very moment he has that thought he cant help looking over Ols shoulder towards the spiky rocks beyond the far side of Briar, and, as if its his fault for thinking of Them, he sees it: a glimpse of whiteness at rest. "Youre not going to tell, are you?" Ol says. "You better not. Youre not a sneak." Its unmistakable. The sea froths and spits where it meets the rocks, but above the turmoil a still white shape has settled. "If you sneak on me Ill put your head down the toilet. One of the old toilets. I mean it." "I wont." Rory can feel his cheeks going stiff and heavy and hot, like his face knows hes trying to hide something. "Lets go down," he says. "I told you, no ones going to see." "Come on. Laurel and Pink are at the Farm." "So what." "Lets go see what theyre doing." This is desperation. He hates it when hes with Laurel and Pink and then Ol shows up. Ol always tries to act older in front of Laurel and the two of them whisper and giggle and he ends up stuck with Pink. But Rorys bad feeling is getting worse. Its really important that Ol not be here. Really, really important. Ol has to go back to where hes supposed to be. Everythings always got to be where its supposed to be, thats one of the Rules they live by since What Happened. "I know what theyre doing." Ol makes squeezing motions with his hands, grinning. "Sticking their hands under goats. No thanks. I like it up here." He stretches and makes a show of admiring the view. "Dont!" Rory squeaks. "Dont what?" "Youre not supposed to look." "I know Im not supposed Details ISBN1451661703 Publisher Atria Books Language English ISBN-10 1451661703 ISBN-13 9781451661705 Media Book Birth 1968 Affiliation University of Leicester Short Title ARCADIA Format Paperback Pages 496 Year 2016 Publication Date 2016-02-02 Author Dr James Treadwell Imprint Atria Books DEWEY 823.92 Audience General UK Release Date 2016-02-02 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. 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