Un homme seul habite la maison que lui a léguée sa tante, dans le massif gallois des Black Mountains, occupant ses journées et ses nuits à lire les ouvrages de la bibliothèque. Un matin, il découvre une tente bleue dans son jardin, d'où sortiront au fil des jours des visiteurs étranges. L'une s'invite dans sa cuisine pour lui proposer du thé, un autre, aux allures de vagabond, entreprend sans tarder le réaménagement total du potager. Chacun raconte son histoire et prétend que la tente est la sienne. Le temps s'étire, les certitudes chancellent... Ce bal drolatique et incessant d'invités se poursuivra-t-il ou devro nt-ils tous retourner dans leur monde ?
Ce huis clos niché dans les montagnes galloises nous mène à des questionnements sur le rapport entre histoire et Histoire, entre rêve et réalité, et sur la vie comme énigme à déchiffrer, dans une ambiance de réalisme magique à la Jorge Luis Borges.
When I opened the door of the flat there was a picture postcard lying in the hallway. It showed a reproduction of a painting by Joan Miró. I turned the card over. Neatly written, in green ink, was what appeared to be a date and time: 20 May-11:00. There was no explanatory message, no indication of who had written the card. The printed details told me that the reproduction was entitled "Woman of the Night." The painting could be found at the Miró Foundation. May 20 was the next day.
Lucas, a musician and translator living in Barcelona's Gothic Quarter, comes home one day to find this cryptic invitation. When he appears at the appointed time, he sets in motion a series of bizarre, seemingly interconnected events that disrupt his previously passive existence. He meets the alluring Nuria and they begin an intense love affair. He is approached by a band of Barcelona's mythic roof dwellers and has a run-in with a fire-eating prophet.
But when he and Nuria are kidnapped by a religious cult with roots stretching back to the thirteenth-century, Lucas realizes that his life is spinning out of control. The cult's megalomaniac leader, Pontneuf, maintains that Nuria and Lucas are essential to his plan to revive the religion. While Nuria is surprisingly open to Pontneuf and his theories, Lucas is outraged and makes his escape. Back in Barcelona, Lucas wanders the streets in a drug-and-alcohol induced haze, pining for Nuria and struggling to make sense of what happened to him. He recounts his improbable adventures to his friends, who are wholly entertained by the story and deeply dubious of its truth, an understandable skepticism as Lucas fast becomes the quintessential unreliable narrator.
With the alluring and enchanting Barcelona as a vibrant backdrop, The Color of a Dog Running Away is a love story, tale of adventure and historical thriller all rolled into one unforgettable and mesmerizing package; a novel that will beguile and disturb in equal measure.
`There has been a pressing need for a book like this for some time. Gwyn cogently reviews the literature on discourse analysis as it pertains to medical and health matters. Introducing original research from his own studies allows him to vividly illustrate just how important it is to understand the role played by discourse. Students of health communication and the sociology of health and illness will find this book integral to their studies' - Deborah Lupton
In this book, Richard Gwyn demonstrates the centrality of discourse analysis to an understanding of health and communication. Focusing on language and communication issues he demonstrates that it is possible to observe and analyze patterns in the ways in which health and illness are represented and articulated by both health professionals and lay people.
Communicating Health and Illness:
Explores culturally validated notions of health and sickness and the medicalization of illness.
Surveys media representations of health and illness
Considers the metaphoric nature of talk about illness
Contributes to the ongoing debate in relation to narrative based medicine.
#1 NATIONAL BESTSELLER
An exciting story, passionately told and rich in detail, this major biography is the second volume of the bestselling, award-winning John A: The Man Who Made Us, by well-known journalist and highly respected author Richard Gwyn.
John A. Macdonald, Canada's first and most important prime minister, is the man who made Confederation happen, who built this country over the next quarter century, and who shaped what it is today. From Confederation Day in 1867, where this volume picks up, Macdonald finessed a reluctant union of four provinces in central and eastern Canada into a strong nation, despite indifference from Britain and annexationist sentiment in the United States.
But it wasn't easy. The wily Macdonald faced constant crises throughout these years, from Louis Riel's two rebellions through to the Pacific Scandal that almost undid his government and his quest to find the spine of the nation: the railroad that would link east to west. Gwyn paints a superb portrait of Canada and its leaders through these formative years and also delves deep to show us Macdonald the man, as he marries for the second time, deals with the birth of a disabled child, and the assassination of his close friend Darcy McGee, and wrestles with whether Riel should hang.
Indelibly, Gwyn shows us Macdonald's love of this country and his ability to joust with forces who would have been just as happy to see the end of Canada before it had really begun, creating a must-read for all Canadians.
From the Hardcover edition.
The first full-scale biography of Canada's first prime minister in half a century by one of our best-known and most highly regarded political writers.
The first volume of Richard Gwyn's definitive biography of John A. Macdonald follows his life from his birth in Scotland in 1815 to his emigration with his family to Kingston, Ontario, to his days as a young, rising lawyer, to his tragedy-ridden first marriage, to the birth of his political ambitions, to his commitment to the all-but-impossible challenge of achieving Confederation, to his presiding, with his second wife Agnes, over the first Canada Day of the new Dominion in 1867.
Colourful, intensely human and with a full measure of human frailties, Macdonald was beyond question Canada's most important prime minister. This volume describes how Macdonald developed Canada's first true national political party, encompassing French and English and occupying the centre of the political spectrum. To perpetuate this party, Macdonald made systematic use of patronage to recruit talent and to bond supporters, a system of politics that continues to this day.
Gwyn judges that Macdonald, if operating on a small stage, possessed political skills-of manipulation and deception as well as an extraordinary grasp of human nature-of the same calibre as the greats of his time, such as Disraeli and Lincoln. Confederation is the centerpiece here, and Gywn's commentary on Macdonald's pivotal role is original and provocative. But his most striking analysis is that the greatest accomplishment of nineteenth-century Canadians was not Confederation, but rather to decide not to become Americans. Macdonald saw Confederation as a means to an end, its purpose being to serve as a loud and clear demonstration of the existence of a national will to survive. The two threats Macdonald had to contend with were those of annexation by the United States, perhaps by force, perhaps by osmosis, and equally that Britain just might let that annexation happen to avoid a conflict with the continent's new and unbeatable power.
Gwyn describes Macdonald as "Canada's first anti-American." And in pages brimming with anecdote, insight, detail and originality, he has created an indelible portrait of "the irreplaceable man,"-the man who made us.
"Macdonald hadn't so much created a nation as manipulated and seduced and connived and bullied it into existence against the wishes of most of its own citizens. Now that Confederation was done, Macdonald would have to do it all over again: having conjured up a child-nation he would have to nurture it through adolescence towards adulthood. How he did this is, however, another story."
"He never made the least attempt to hide his "vice," unlike, say, his contemporary, William Gladstone, with his sallies across London to save prostitutes, or Mackenzie King with his crystal-ball gazing. Not only was Macdonald entirely unashamed of his behaviour, he often actually drew attention to it, as in his famous response to a heckler who accused him of being drunk at a public meeting: "Yes, but the people would prefer John A. drunk to George Brown sober." There was no hypocrisy in Macdonald's make-up, nor any fear.
--from John A. Macdonald
From the Hardcover edition.
