The Panopticon -

Jenni Fagan

William Heinemann Ltd

2012

324 páginas

10h 48m

ISBN-13: 9780434021772

Pa`nop´ti`con ( noun). A prison so constructed that the inspector can see each of the prisoners at all times, without being seen.
Anais Hendricks, 15, is in the back of a police car, headed for The Panopticon, a home for chronic young offenders.She can't remember the events that led her here, but across town a policewoman lies in a coma and there is blood on Anais's school uniform.
Smart, funny and fierce, Anais is a counter-culture outlaw, a bohemian philosopher in sailor shorts and a pillbox hat. She is also a child who has been let down, or worse, by just about every adult she has ever met.
The residents of the Panopticon form intense bonds, heightened by their place on the periphery, and Anais finds herself part of an ad-hoc family there. Much more suspicious are the social workers, especially Helen, who is about to leave her job for an elephant sanctuary in India but is determined to force Anais to confront the circumstances of her birth before she goes.
Looking up at the watchtower that looms over the residents, Anais knows her fate: she is part of an experiment, she always was, it's a given, a liberty - a fact. And the experiment is closing in.
In language dazzling, energetic and pure, The Panopticon introduces us to a heartbreaking young heroine and an incredibly assured and outstanding new voice in fiction.

Resenhas (1)

4.5 (Muito bom)

não é uma resenha sobre esse livro 🤡

A resenha é sobre o livro "Hex" da mesma autora, mas como ele não ta aqui no skoob ainda vou deixar o textinho nesse livro por enquanto: Meu coração está em pedaços. O sentimento de angústia está presente em cada página, a impotência de tanto sofrimento sem poder fazer nada para apagar o que aconteceu ou impedir o que virá a acontecer, com você ou com outras que ousaram existir. Esse livro abarca uma verdade feminina paralisante por meio de elementos fictícios, mas ainda sim mais fiél impossível. Enquanto sentia pontadas de tristeza, compaixão e irmandade, crescia-me também o desespero pela tragédia eminente, dolorosamente bonito.