Keturah and Lord Death -

Martine Leavitt

Boyds Mills Press

2006

216 páginas

7h 12m

ISBN-13: 9781932425291

Martine Leavitt offers a spellbinding story, interweaving elements of classic fantasy and high romance. Keturah follows a legendary hart into the king's forest, where she becomes hopelessly lost. Her strength diminishes until, finally, she realizes that death is near. Little does she know that he is a young, handsome lord, melancholy and stern. Renowned for her storytelling, Keturah is able to charm Lord Death with a story and thereby gain a reprieve -- but only for twenty-four hours. She must find her one true love within that time, or all is lost. Keturah searches desperately while the village prepares for an unexpected visit from the king, and Keturah is thrust into a prominent role as mysterious happenings alarm her friends and neighbors. Lord Death's presence hovers over all until Keturah confronts him one last time in the harrowing climax.

Resenhas (3)

3 (Bom)

profundo porém até chegar lá demora

Sentimentos muito mornos sobre essa história.
Porém não consigo parar de pensar sobre ela. Só próximo ao fim eu consegui realmente ver a história pelo que era e não como um romance romântico de fato. É uma reflexão sobre vida e morte e como sem uma não valorizamos a outra, e a conexão de Keturah com Ele, o Lorde Morte(ou A Morte) é algo que eu ainda estou tentando compreender, é citado que ele esteve ao lado dela durante toda sua vida. E nada me tira da cabeça que ela meio que sempre esteve destinada a morrer aquele dia na floresta, e só por conta de precisar realmente entender e "aceitar" isso que a Keturah não partiu com Ele naquele dia.
A escrita é bonita e com estilo tipicamente de conto de fadas, mesmo não sendo uma história antiga de verdade, consegue emular isso com perfeição. Tenho pouco a dizer sobre os personagens secundários, talvez só um pouco sobre o John Temsland.
Sem mais delongas, minhas citações preferidas:

"I felt the evening sunshine upon me—but what was the joy of sunshine if there were no night? Wasn’t the sunset the sweetest time of day? Could I ask for only day and never dark?"

"And what of my friends? Could I ask for them ever to be at my side? Already I felt them moving past me, faster and faster, while I stayed still. And oh, the peace in that stillness."

"But I could not touch their happiness, could not hold it. It was a dream and not real. What was real was the sense that in this life I had never quite been satisfied, had never long been at peace, had never loved or been fully loved as I longed to be."

"How sad to know that the figment village of my imagination would not vanish when I ended, to understand that it was not I who had invented the moon the first time I realized how lovely it was. To admit that it was not my breath that made the winds blow. It was not only my own life I mourned. Wouldn’t all life end with mine?"

"I thought I understood the forest from the days when I was lost in it. Oh, proud trees, so tall and hard, I thought. You would not bend to make me feel less small. You would stand still and watch me die."

"It was as if he had eternity to stand beside me, and forever to listen. There was no time or motion to disturb us."

“You, my lord, are the ending of all true stories.”