Dreams of the Compass Rose
Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Synopsis:
The Compass Rose universe -- an ancient milieu where places have no names, cities spring forth like bouquets in the desert, gods and dreams walk the scorching sands in the South, ice floats like mirror shards upon the Northern sea, islands that do not exist are found in the East, death chases a thief on the rooftops of a Western city, immortal love spans time, and directions are intertwined into one road we all travel....
You come to this place when you wonder, and sometimes, only when you dream.
"...a clever concoction of vignettes and short stories knitted into a morality tale about the temptation of illusion and the price of truth.... an exotic setting reminiscent of Tanith Lee's Flat Earth series.... The author's sumptuous language will resonate with Lord Dunsany and Clark Ashton Smith fans.... Nazarian's vital themes and engaging characters are sure to entertain."
— Publishers Weekly
"Nazarian's story cycle treads the borderline between the episodic novel and the short-story collection, recalling the work of contemporary fantasist Charles de Lint, early-twentieth-century fantasist Lord Dunsany, and even, reaching way back, The Thousand and One Nights....her imagery is rich, vivid, and memorable, not to mention being remarkable because she realizes it not in her native language, Russian, but in English.... Indeed, this is a singularly appealing book by a new voice in fantasy."
— Roland Green, ALA Booklist
"...unusual fantasy novel... although it uses many of the trappings of traditional heroic fantasy, the elements are assembled in a unique fashion.... Often the conflict is dark and foreboding.... Nazarian's prose is well constructed and her exotic settings are vivid and realistic. There's almost a fairy tale quality to the book, and it differs enough from the usual array of usurped thrones and quest stories to warrant your time."
— Science Fiction Chronicle
"An intricate multi-level story... a kind of Aesop's Fables... spoken with a voice from the Far East, hypnotic as the desert sands."
— Locus
"This is a novel to be read and reread in small doses as pieces of the puzzle are put together."
— The Denver Post
"Vera Nazarian is a fervent prose poet; her first novel, Dreams of the Compass Rose, is a feast of baroque colour and eloquence echoing and rivalling Lee's remarkable arabesque cycle, the five-volume Tales of the Flat Earth.... Dreams may well become a landmark in the architectonics of the fantastic.... a fierce and stylish statement of innovative purpose in a genre that needs shaking up. Fortunately, with Vera Nazarian joining the reforming crusade of such fantasists as China Miéville, Jeff VanderMeer, Kelly Link, and Jeffrey Ford, an earthquake seems imminent..."
— Nicholas Gevers, Infinity Plus
Book Excerpt:
In the metallic blur of the horizon, below the cumulus cloud skies, lies Amarantea....
It is violet, lavender, or indigo, at dawn, noon, and dusk. It is where the soul flies in search of wonder, when sleep takes you by the eyelashes....
So it was told, in all the lands of the Compass Rose. It was also related, in the late cozy evenings by the marigold hearth, when children settled to absorb the ancestral wisdom of their elders, that Amarantea was a place between worlds, inaccessible.
One such child, sitting at her Grandmother's knee, asked insistently every night to hear the story, until Grandmother nearly went daft with repetition.
"Tell me of the beast that inhabits the island kingdom!" cried little Learra. "The one that has no name, and that can only be seen when it sleeps! Tell me of the king of Amarantea, who has wed a woman with no eyes! I want to hear the words of the greatest Truth that are inscribed upon the coffin of brass — the one that is within the anonymous sepulcher of the unknown one!"
"The beast that has no name does not want nosy little girls to know anything more about it," Grandmother said. "And neither does the king and his poor wife. As to the words of Truth on the brass coffin — why, I've recited them to you over a dozen times."
"One more time, please!"
"It says," Grandmother began to speak with the patience of an antique maple, "that whatever lies within this grave is the only source of evil. And it should not be disturbed by you or me, or anyone with the least bit of brains, for that matter. Nor should silly questions be pursued beyond a certain point."
"No, no!" insisted Learra. "I want to hear the real words, please, not your own, Grandmother!"
"Ah... What's an old woman to do, when her words are no longer considered real? Very well. It says: 'The soul is a flower, severed from its stem, bearing seed, planted at birth, reaped in death, but never discarded in the bottomless well.'"
"But that says nothing about evil. And what strange words! What does it all mean?"
"How should I know?" said the Grandmother, moving her embroidery needle through cotton fabric.
"Then how do you know the words at all?"
"Why — I was told them when I was your size, little one."
Learra touched a small hand to her Grandmother's sunken cheek, saying, "Then I must find out, before I am your size."
. . .Author Comment:
The word "Amarantea" came to me in a dream...
Topics/Categories:
ancient world, arabesque, myth, one thousand and one nights, Philosophy
Genre:
Type of Work:
Awards:
Purchase From:
Original Publish Date:
May 1, 2002
Formats and associated ISBNs:
1596873930 1587155842
Formats:
Hardcover Trade Paperback
- Share With:
