From the moment that he looks down on the ancient gray head of Noah, who is swinging his stone axe, the narrating crow in this unique and remarkable epic knows that these creators called Man are trouble. He senses, too, that the natural order of things is about to change.At a time when so many of us are searching for meaning, Layne Maheu’s debut novel lingers in a masterfully rendered ancient world just long enough to ponder our fears of disaster and to watch as humanity struggles to survive, to understand, and finally to prevail.Recalling both the magical imagination of Richard Adams’s Watership Down and the spiritual richness of Anita Diamant’s The Red Tent, Song of the Crow is a soaring debut.
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Layne Maheu. Song of the Crow
Song of the Crow
Prologue
I. Nestling
1. Keeyaw the Terrible
2. Fall of the Giant
3. Mother of Many
4. Treasure
5. The Most Delectable
6. Mark of the Blade
7. Into the Unseen
8. Burnt Offerings
9. Wind of the Long Journeys
10. Lone Crow
11. Tree
12. Burning Creatures of the Sea
II. Fledgling
1. Triumph of the Tree
2. Lost Songs
3. Funeral
4. Vanquished
5. The Old Bone
6. The Phenomenon of Crow Leaves
7. Mob
8. The Fires of Keeyaw
9. Kindness of the Beast
10. Slumgullion
11. Hookbill the Haunted, the Curse
III. Deluge
1. Fleece of the Hills
2. Sleep of the Bloody Potions
3. Hookbill the Haunting
4. The Many Faces of Crow
5. The Garment
6. Butterfly Net
7. The Unclean
8. The Door
9. Trespass
IV. The Ark
1. Book of Sapphires
2. Bird of Fodder
3. Sign and Lament
4. Island of Musical Instruments
5. Greenhorn the Sailor
6. The Window
7. Ostrich-Egg Omelet
8. Mountaintop
9. Ruse
10. Atlantis
V. Covenant
1. Diluvia
2. Paradise
3. Vine Stock
4. Sacrifice
5. Curse of the Wine
6. The Dead
7. Exile
8. Ghost of the Misfortune
9. Season of Plum Black
10. Lost Lore
Acknowledgments
Отрывок из книги
Song of the Crow
—BEN JACKLET, “CROW MYSTERIES”
.....
“Fledges snagged by hawks, by angry gods without names.”
Since crows can count up to seven, any bird beyond that in age is from the seasons beyond counting, and though it wasn’t always true for my mother, the seasons beyond her counting were advancing. She could remember the many who had flown from her nest. She just couldn’t tell how long ago they had come, or gone, or if they had gone, or where to.
