Pearl
(Sprache: Englisch)
From Josh Malerman, the New York Times bestselling author of Bird Box and Malorie, comes the legend of Pearl, a strange new monster unlike any other in horror (previously published as On This, the Day of the Pig).
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From Josh Malerman, the New York Times bestselling author of Bird Box and Malorie, comes the legend of Pearl, a strange new monster unlike any other in horror (previously published as On This, the Day of the Pig).NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY THE WALL STREET JOURNAL Daring readers should find this tale of a malevolent telepathic pig to be a memorable experience. Booklist (starred review)
There s something strange about Walter Kopple s farm. At first it seems to be his grandson, who cruelly murders one of Walter s pigs in an act of seemingly senseless violence. But then people in town begin to whisper that Walter s grandson heard a voice commanding him to kill.
And that the voice belongs to a most peculiar creature: the pig named Pearl.
Walter is not sure what to believe. He knows he s always been afraid of the strangely malevolent Pearl. But as madness and paranoia grip the town and the townspeople descend on Walter s farm with violent wrath, they begin to discover that true evil wears a human face.
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Up Murdock, away from downtown Chowder, passing the wheat fields and the forest east of the road, tall pines that unfolded like a long, complex bedspread, separating Chowder from Goblin and the other less agricultural areas of mid-Michigan, they pulled onto Grandpa s gravel drive just before noon. Sherry eyed Jeff briefly, checking to see if maybe he d had a change of heart. If maybe he was smiling like he used to. Grandpa s world was a fun world if you let it be. The farm. Where Jeff and Aaron used to ride the horses and chase chickens and oink at the pigs. Where the brothers spent nights outside, sometimes without a tent, sometimes just on their backs on the grassy slope that led from the farmhouse to the barn. This place was childhood. This place was supposed to be special. The farm meant something.Doesn t it?
Sherry hadn t meant to say that out loud.
Doesn t what? Aaron asked. But Sherry didn t answer. And Jeff stared at her like he might ve known what she was thinking.
Sherry parked the wagon by the front porch steps. She looked up to see Grandpa standing behind the screen door. He waved.
Hey, Dad, Mom called from behind the rolled-up window.
Grandpa waved again, as if maybe he d forgotten he d already done so.
His thin white hair stirred with an easy autumn breeze. Sherry wondered what was on his mind, what clutter of his own.
She and the boys got out of the car.
Hello, Sherry, Grandpa said. Hello, boys. He looked tired. Sherry always said Grandpa was toughened by farm life. Jeff used to believe that.
Sherry hugged him at the door.
Thought I d put them to work today, Grandpa said, nodding to the boys.
That sounds good, Mom said. They could use it. And it would give her a chance to grovel in private.
It had been a hard summer.
Stuff it in the mind-bag.
Yes. The mind-bag. The secret, unseen place where Sherry stuffed all her dark thoughts, her absurd worries, the unprovoked hunches she d felt most her life,
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the premonitions of Pearl.
Grandpa squinted down at his grandsons.
I was hoping Aaron could collect some eggs for me. And Jeff . . . maybe Jeff would like to feed the . . .
Jeff held his breath.
Don t say feed the pigs, Grandpa. Don t say Pearl.
And why not?
. . . horses, Grandpa finished.
Sherry smiled, but her own private stresses were drawn firmly on her face. Often she imagined the mind-bag hanging on a curled finger in an otherwise lightless room. A place only she could find it, hidden from the prying eyes of Chowder, Michigan, and the whole wide world beyond. But recently that bag had been relocated to her hip, a place anybody could see, if they cared to look. Yes, Sherry Kopple had started wearing her emotions on her sleeve, a look she didn t quite love. Her recent anxiety stuck out like the stump of a third foot and was about as useful to boot.
How s that sound, boys? Grandpa asked. Good enough?
The brothers nodded. Yes. Eggs and horses. Safe areas on the farm.
Grandpa walked them into the farmhouse, through the kitchen, to the back door.
Aaron followed Mom outside, a foot from the cellar door in the grass, but Jeff paused at the screen, looking down the slope to where the evergreens hid the pigpen.
The horses can t come to you, Grandpa said. And when Jeff looked up, he saw all three of them were waiting.
Aaron laughed at him as he exited the farmhouse.
Grandpa led him to the stables, and on the way, Jeff heard them breathing behind the trees.
The pigs.
The sound remained lodged in his mind, in his
Grandpa squinted down at his grandsons.
I was hoping Aaron could collect some eggs for me. And Jeff . . . maybe Jeff would like to feed the . . .
Jeff held his breath.
Don t say feed the pigs, Grandpa. Don t say Pearl.
And why not?
. . . horses, Grandpa finished.
Sherry smiled, but her own private stresses were drawn firmly on her face. Often she imagined the mind-bag hanging on a curled finger in an otherwise lightless room. A place only she could find it, hidden from the prying eyes of Chowder, Michigan, and the whole wide world beyond. But recently that bag had been relocated to her hip, a place anybody could see, if they cared to look. Yes, Sherry Kopple had started wearing her emotions on her sleeve, a look she didn t quite love. Her recent anxiety stuck out like the stump of a third foot and was about as useful to boot.
How s that sound, boys? Grandpa asked. Good enough?
The brothers nodded. Yes. Eggs and horses. Safe areas on the farm.
Grandpa walked them into the farmhouse, through the kitchen, to the back door.
Aaron followed Mom outside, a foot from the cellar door in the grass, but Jeff paused at the screen, looking down the slope to where the evergreens hid the pigpen.
The horses can t come to you, Grandpa said. And when Jeff looked up, he saw all three of them were waiting.
Aaron laughed at him as he exited the farmhouse.
Grandpa led him to the stables, and on the way, Jeff heard them breathing behind the trees.
The pigs.
The sound remained lodged in his mind, in his
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Autoren-Porträt von Josh Malerman
Josh Malerman is a New York Times bestselling author and one of two singer-songwriters for the rock band The High Strung. His debut novel, Bird Box, was the inspiration for the hit Netflix film of the same name. His other novels include Unbury Carol, Inspection, A House at the Bottom of a Lake, and Malorie, the sequel to Bird Box. Malerman lives in Michigan with his fiancée, the artist/musician Allison Laakko.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Josh Malerman
- 2021, 304 Seiten, Maße: 14,5 x 21,6 cm, Gebunden, Englisch
- Verlag: Del Rey
- ISBN-10: 0593237838
- ISBN-13: 9780593237830
- Erscheinungsdatum: 18.10.2021
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Daring readers should find this tale of a malevolent telepathic pig to be a memorable experience. . . . The novel shares the same racing narrative that made Bird Box hard to put down and is Malerman s most accomplished work outside of the Bird Box series. Booklist (starred review)A perfect, fast-paced slasher filled with violent, cinematic action sequences . . . Malerman delivers with another completely different yet equally crowd-pleasing and awesome horror novel that is not to be missed. Library Journal (starred review)
A strange, un-put-down-able thriller . . . part twisted fairy tale, part animal rights protest, part PTSD drama, and part Triumph the Insult Dog, the novel never runs out of unsettling doors to open. Kirkus Reviews
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