#21 27/07/2006 12:03:56

Gillossen
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Date d'inscription: 20/04/2002
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Ah, a... ph34r

Bon ! En cherchant un peu, on peut trouver l'intro et le premier chapitre en ligne ! smile

Voil dj le prologue...


EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

THE DON SALVARA GAME

1

LOCKE LAMORA'S RULE of thumb was this: a good confidence game took three months to plan, three weeks to rehearse, and three seconds to win or lose the victim's trust forever. This time around, he planned to spend those three seconds getting strangled.

Locke was on his knees, and Calo, standing behind him, had a hemp rope coiled three times around his neck. The rough stuff looked impressive, and it would leave Locke's throat a very credible shade of red. No genuine Camorri assassin old enough to waddle in a straight line would garrote with anything but silk or wire, of course (the better to crease the victim's windpipe). Yet if Don Lorenzo Salvara could tell a fake strangling from the real thing in the blink of an eye at thirty paces, they'd badly misjudged the man they planned to rob and the whole game would be shot anyway.

"Can you see him yet? Or Bug's signal?" Locke hissed his question as lightly as he could, then made a few impressive gurgling sounds.

"No signal. No Don Salvara. Can you breathe?"

"Fine, just fine," Locke whispered, "but shake me some more. That's the convincer."

They were in the dead-end alley beside the old Temple of Fortunate Waters; the temple's prayer waterfalls could be heard gushing somewhere behind the high plaster wall. Locke clutched once again at the harmless coils of rope circling his neck and spared a glance for the horse staring at him from just a few paces away, laden down with a rich-looking cargo of merchant's packs. The poor dumb animal was Gentled; there was neither curiosity nor fear behind the milk-white shells of its unblinking eyes. It wouldn't have cared even had the strangling been real.

Precious seconds passed; the sun was high and bright in a sky scalded free of clouds, and the grime of the alley clung like wet cement to the legs of Locke's breeches. Nearby, Jean Tannen lay in the same moist muck while Galdo pretended (mostly) to kick his ribs in. He'd been merrily kicking away for at least a minute, just as long as his twin brother had supposedly been strangling Locke.

Don Salvara was supposed to pass the mouth of the alley at any second and, ideally, rush in to rescue Locke and Jean from their "assailants." At this rate, he would end up rescuing them from boredom.

"Gods," Calo whispered, bending his mouth to Locke's ear as though he might be hissing some demand, "where the hell is that damn Salvara? And where's Bug? We can't keep this shit up all day; other people do walk by the mouth of this damned alley!"

"Keep strangling me," Locke whispered. "Just think of twenty thousand full crowns and keep strangling me. I can choke all day if I have to."

2

Everything had gone beautifully that morning in the run-up to the game itself, even allowing for the natural prickliness of a young thief finally allowed a part in his first big score.

"Of course I know where I'm supposed to be when the action starts," Bug whined. "I've spent more time perched up on that temple roof than I did in my mother's gods-damned womb!"

Jean Tannen let his right hand trail in the warm water of the canal while he took another bite of the sour marsh apple held in his left. The forward gunwale of the flat-bottomed barge was a choice spot for relaxation in the watered-wine light of early morning, allowing all sixteen stone of Jean's frame to sprawl comfortably--keg belly, heavy arms, bandy legs, and all. The only other person (and the one doing all of the work) in the empty barge was Bug: a lanky, mop-headed twelve-year-old braced against the steering pole at the stern.

"Your mother was in an understandable hurry to get rid of you, Bug." Jean's voice was soft and even and wildly incongruous. He spoke like a teacher of music or a copier of scrolls. "We're not. So indulge me once more with proof of your penetrating comprehension of our game."

"Dammit," Bug replied, giving the barge another push against the gentle current of the seaward-flowing canal. "You and Locke and Calo and Galdo are down in the alley between Fortunate Waters and the gardens for the Temple of Nara, right? I'm up on the roof of the temple across the way."

"Go on," Jean said around a mouthful of marsh apple. "Where's Don Salvara?"

Other barges, heavily laden with everything from ale casks to bleating cows, were slipping past the two of them on the clay-colored water of the canal. Bug was poling them north along Camorr's main commercial waterway, the Via Camorrazza, toward the Shifting Market, and the city was lurching into life around them.

The leaning gray tenements of water-slick stone were spitting their inhabitants out into the sunlight and the rising summer warmth. The month was Parthis, meaning that the night-sweat of condensation already boiling off the buildings as a soupy mist would be greatly missed by the cloudless white heat of early afternoon.

"He's coming out of the Temple of Fortunate Waters, like he does every Penance Day right around noon. He's got two horses and one man with him, if we're lucky."

"A curious ritual," Jean said. "Why would he do a thing like that?"

"Deathbed promise to his mother." Bug drove his pole down into the canal, struggled against it for a moment, and managed to shove them along once more. "She kept the Vadran religion after she married the old Don Salvara. So he leaves an offering at the Vadran temple once a week and gets home as fast as he can so nobody pays too much attention to him. Dammit, Jean, I already know this shit. Why would I be here if you didn't trust me? And why am I the one who gets to push this stupid barge all the way to the market?"

"Oh, you can stop poling the barge any time you can beat me hand to hand three falls out of five." Jean grinned, showing two rows of crooked brawler's teeth in a face that looked as though someone had set it on an anvil and tried to pound it into a more pleasing shape. "Besides, you're an apprentice in a proud trade, learning under the finest and most demanding masters it has to offer. Getting all the shit-work is excellent for your moral education."

"You haven't given me any bloody moral education."

"Yes. Well, that's probably because Locke and I have been dodging our own for most of our lives now. As for why we're going over the plan again, let me remind you that one good screwup will make the fate of those poor bastards look sunny in comparison to what we'll get."

Jean pointed at one of the city's slop wagons, halted on a canal-side boulevard to receive a long dark stream of night soil from the upper window of a public alehouse. These wagons were crewed by petty criminals whose offenses were too meager to justify continual incarceration in the Palace of Patience. Shackled to their wagons and huddled in the alleged protection of long leather ponchos, they were let out each morning to enjoy what sun they could when they weren't cursing the dubious accuracy with which several thousand Camorri emptied their chamber pots.

"I won't screw it up, Jean." Bug shook his thoughts like an empty coin purse, searching desperately for something to say that would make him sound as calm and assured as he imagined Jean and all the older Gentlemen Bastards always were--but the mouth of most twelve-year-olds far outpaces the mind. "I just won't, I bloody won't, I promise."

"Good lad," Jean said. "Glad to hear it. But just what is it that you won't screw up?"

Bug sighed. "I make the signal when Salvara's on his way out of the Temple of Fortunate Waters. I keep an eye out for anyone else trying to walk past the alley, especially the city watch. If anybody tries it, I jump down from the temple roof with a longsword and cut their bloody heads off where they stand."

"You what?"

"I said I distract them any way I can. You going deaf, Jean?"

A line of tall countinghouses slid past on their left, each displaying lacquered woodwork, silk awnings, marble facades, and other ostentatious touches along the waterfront. There were deep roots of money and power sunk into that row of three- and four-story buildings. Coin-Kisser's Row was the oldest and goldest financial district on the continent. The place was as steeped in influence and elaborate rituals as the glass heights of the Five Towers, in which the duke and the Grand Families sequestered themselves from the city they ruled.

"Move us up against the bank just under the bridges, Bug." Jean gestured vaguely with his apple. "His Nibs will be waiting to come aboard."

Two Elderglass arches bridged the Via Camorrazza right in the middle of Coin-Kisser's Row--a high and narrow catbridge for foot traffic and a lower, wider one for wagons. The seamless brilliance of the alien glass looked like nothing so much as liquid diamond, gently arched by giant hands and left to harden over the canal. On the right bank was the Fauria, a crowded island of multitiered stone apartments and rooftop gardens. Wooden wheels churned white against the stone embankment, drawing canal water up into a network of troughs and viaducts that crisscrossed over the Fauria's streets at every level.

Bug slid the barge over to a rickety quay just beneath the catbridge; from the faint and slender shadow of this arch a man jumped down to the quay, dressed (as Bug and Jean were) in oil-stained leather breeches and a rough cotton shirt. His next nonchalant leap took him into the barge, which barely rocked at his arrival.

"Salutations to you, Master Jean Tannen, and profuse congratulations on the fortuitous timing of your arrival!" said the newcomer.

"Ah, well, felicitations to you in respect of the superlative grace of your entry into our very humble boat, Master Lamora." Jean punctuated this statement by popping the remains of his apple into his mouth, stem and all, and producing a wet crunching noise.

"Creeping shits, man." Locke Lamora stuck out his tongue. "Must you do that? You know the black alchemists make fish poison from the seeds of those damn things."

"Lucky me," said Jean after swallowing the last bit of masticated pulp, "not being a fish."

Locke was a medium man in every respect--medium height, medium build, medium-dark hair cropped short above a face that was neither handsome nor memorable. He looked like a proper Therin, though perhaps a bit less olive and ruddy than Jean or Bug; in another light he might have passed for a very tan Vadran. His bright gray eyes alone had any sense of distinction; he was a man the gods might have shaped deliberately to be overlooked. He settled down against the left-hand gunwale and crossed his legs.

"Hello to you as well, Bug! I knew we could count on you to take pity on your elders and let them rest in the sun while you do the hard work with the pole."

"Jean's a lazy old bastard is what it is," Bug said. "And if I don't pole the barge, he'll knock my teeth out the back of my head."

"Jean is the gentlest soul in Camorr, and you wound him with your accusations," said Locke. "Now he'll be up all night crying."

"I would have been up all night anyway," Jean added, "crying from the ache of rheumatism and lighting candles to ward off evil vapors."

"Which is not to say that our bones don't creak by day, my cruel apprentice." Locke massaged his kneecaps. "We're at least twice your age--which is prodigious for our profession."

"The Daughters of Aza Guilla have tried to perform a corpse-blessing on me six times this week," said Jean. "You're lucky Locke and I are still spry enough to take you with us when we run a game."

To anyone beyond hearing range, Locke and Jean and Bug might have looked like the crew of a for-hire barge, slacking their way toward a cargo pickup at the junction of the Via Camorrazza and the Angevine River. As Bug poled them closer and closer to the Shifting Market, the water was getting thicker with such barges, and with sleek black cockleshell boats, and battered watercraft of every description, not all of them doing a good job of staying afloat or under control.

"Speaking of our game," said Locke, "how is our eager young apprentice's understanding of his place in the scheme of things?"

"I've been reciting it to Jean all morning," said Bug.

"And the conclusion is?"

"I've got it down cold!" Bug heaved at the pole with all of his strength, driving them between a pair of high-walled floating gardens with inches to spare on either side. The scents of jasmine and oranges drifted down over them as their barge slipped beneath the protruding branches of one of the gardens; a wary attendant peeked over one garden-boat's wall, staff in hand to fend them off if necessary. The big barges were probably hauling transplants to some noble's orchard upriver.

"Down cold, and I won't screw it up. I promise! I know my place, and I know the signals. I won't screw it up!"

3

Calo was shaking Locke with real vigor, and Locke's performance as his victim was a virtuoso one, but still the moments dragged by. They were all trapped in their pantomime like figures out of the richly inventive hells of Therin theology: a pair of thieves destined to spend all eternity stuck in an alley, mugging victims that never passed out or gave up their money.

"Are you as alarmed as I am?" Calo whispered.

"Just stay in character," Locke hissed. "You can pray and strangle at the same time."

There was a high-pitched scream from their right, echoing across the cobbles and walls of the Temple District. It was followed by shouts and the creaking tread of men in battle harness--but these sounds moved away from the mouth of the alley, not toward it.

"That sounded like Bug," said Locke.

"I hope he's just arranging a distraction," said Calo, his grip on the rope momentarily slackening. At that instant, a dark shape darted across the gap of sky between the alley's high walls, its fluttering shadow briefly falling over them as it passed.

"Now what the hell was that, then?" Calo asked.

Off to their right, someone screamed again.

4

Bug had poled himself, Locke, and Jean from the Via Camorrazza into the Shifting Market right on schedule, just as the vast Elderglass wind chime atop Westwatch was unlashed to catch the breeze blowing in from the sea and ring out the eleventh hour of the morning.

The Shifting Market was a lake of relatively placid water at the very heart of Camorr, perhaps half a mile in circumference, protected from the rushing flow of the Angevine and the surrounding canals by a series of stone breakwaters. The only real current in the market was human-made, as hundreds upon hundreds of floating merchants slowly and warily followed one another counterclockwise in their boats, jostling for prized positions against the flat-topped breakwaters, which were crowded with buyers and sightseers on foot.


Can I Interest You In A Comfy London Apartment At 221B Baker St.?

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#22 31/07/2006 16:52:03

Joss
Tratrise en tout genre
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Date d'inscription: 23/04/2002
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Histoire de faire baver encore plus ceux qui attendent de le lire en franais wink

arrow http://www.elbakin.net/fantasy/news/Sco … -se-confie


"Tout petit dj, j'ai toujours voulu devenir maire. Plus qu'une vocation, c'est une ncessit pour moi d'aider les autres, de vous aider. Je me prsente devant vous aujourd'hui et vous le demande du fond du cur, laissez-moi vous aider."
Discours de campagne 20082013, quelques heures avant les vnements tragiques du 17 aut.

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#23 31/07/2006 18:30:34

pat5150
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Encore une fois, trs bonne traduction! wink

Scott attend toujours vos questions. . . tongue

Patrick

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#24 31/07/2006 18:31:58

Gillossen
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

pat5150,lundi 31 juillet 2006, 18:30 a crit:

Scott attend toujours vos questions. . . tongue

Je les ai relues pas plus tard que tout l'heure dans le train. wink
J'espre de te les transmettre tout l'heure, ou demain matin. Je suis un peu bouscul ces jours-ci, dsol. ohmy


Can I Interest You In A Comfy London Apartment At 221B Baker St.?

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#25 31/07/2006 19:33:00

Kaines
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Ah, un nouvel admirateur de Goodkind ! ( Hmmm. Je dois me contrler. Je dois me contrler ) big_smile

Merci Thys pour cette nouvelle interview smile (dcidement tu ne t'arrtes donc jamais) ! wink

Je suis vraiment tent par ce livre, l'intrigue dans cette ville atypique mintrigue.
Sinon, l'auteur en lui-mme me plat sans plus, mais semble lucide. Je suis daccord avec Patrick, son rythme dcriture me parat assez rapide mme sil a le scnario globale en tte ! huh
Une srie en sept volumes ne me parat pas si courte que cela, mais bon


Les soldats vivent et se demandent pourquoi.
GLEN COOK In La Compagnie Noire, Soldats de pierre.

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#26 31/07/2006 20:18:27

Tanis-Rune de Sombrepierr
Capitaine ! Oh mon Capitaine !
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Merci Thys pour la traduction de cette interview smile .

Ahhhhh, yesssss. Excellent ! La premire phase est l'acquisition des sides. La seconde, la construction d'une base sous-marine secrte. La troisime c'est la conqute de la cte est.

tongue Ca m'a l'air d'tre un petit rigolo, mais qui sait aussi tre lucide. Enfin, sauf pour son rythme d'criture qui me parat un brin rapide, mme avec toute l'histoire en tte huh . A voir sur la longueur, s'il saura tenir le rythme et ses ambitions wink .

Tanis


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#27 31/07/2006 20:24:30

zedd
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Je dois dire que plus j'en dcouvre sur le bouquin, plus j'ai hte de le lire! Et puis la rfrence Timmy, mon perso prfr de Feist... Raahhh... tongue
Ce qui me plat le plus dans l'interview de l'auteur, c'est l'nergie qu'il dgage! On voit que l'auteur a envie de se faire plaisir et de faire plaisir..
Pour la rapide sortie des livres, je trouve que s'il s'en sent capable pourquoi pas! On voit qu'il est aussi un lecteur de fantasy et qu'il aime pas attendre pendant 4 ans entre la sortie de 2 tomes... whistling

En tout cas, vivement la VF!

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#28 31/07/2006 20:41:41

Anarion
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Merci pour l'interview et la traduction wink

Le premier constat qui se dgage, c'est qu'il semble vraiment sympa et chaleureurx, ne se prend pas la tte, tout en tant raliste.
Concernant son rythme d'criture, c'es vrai que c'est rapide, mais il semble confiant, soyons-le nous aussi! smile

Vivement demain que je recoive le livre, j'ai vraiment hte de m'y mettre! big_smile


"Un p'tit tour de magie peut-tre? Ce crayon, je vais le faire disparatre. TADAAAM!! Il a...dis-pa-ru..."

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#29 31/07/2006 21:57:16

pat5150
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Pour ceux qui se dbrouillent en Anglais, Scott Lynch est souvent sur les sites sffworld.com et sur asoiaf.westeros.org, dans les forums.

Et oui, il m'a l'air d'un gars vraiment cool. Il a envoy un livre autographi la personne qui a fait la parodie la plus drle sur Goodkind, en utilisant l'univers et les personnages de Scott. big_smile

Patrick

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#30 01/08/2006 09:50:31

Anarion
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Je viens de le recevoir, a fait plaisir! big_smile
Je l'ai reu en hardcover, la jaquette est trs belle, j'ai parcouru un peu, a ne m'a pas l'air plus dur que du Zindell ou du Williams smile
J'ai la carte moi aussi, en noir et blanc, pas en couleur smile


"Un p'tit tour de magie peut-tre? Ce crayon, je vais le faire disparatre. TADAAAM!! Il a...dis-pa-ru..."

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#31 01/08/2006 13:57:46

Thys
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Merci Thys pour cette nouvelle interview  (dcidement tu ne t'arrtes donc jamais) !

Merci, mais juste pour prciser (bien que je pense que c'est dj clair), je ne fais que la traduction, c'est Pat qu'il faut remercier pour toutes ces interviews...et, autre point, si, si, je m'arrte mme souvent, et j'en fais bien moins que l'quipe qui gre le site proprement parler, je crois qu'il n'y a pas photo ! tongue

Bref, encore une belle interview, avec un auteur franchement sympa et qui n'a pas sa langue dans sa poche. Je ne sais pas si ce qu'il crit est particulirement remarquable, mais il a une personnalit qui l'est, elle. J'aime bien sa manire de relativiser les choses ds qu'on part dans les grandes considrations de genre ou de postrit. smile

Thys


"La mort de tout homme m'amoindrit parce que je fais partie de l'humanit ; c'est pourquoi, ne demande jamais pour qui sonne le glas, il sonne pour toi."

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#32 02/08/2006 14:32:55

Gillossen
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

En tout cas, j'attends encore confirmation de Pat, mais nos questions ont bien t envoyes Scott Lynch, cette fois ! wink
J'espre ne pas avoir t redondant... smile


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#33 02/08/2006 21:26:37

pat5150
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

C'est fait! wink

Patrick

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#34 02/08/2006 22:19:57

Anarion
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

J'approche de la centaine de pages lu, c'est vraiment sympa. Bon, par contre, je suis un peu rouill, rien de grave, mais des fois je bloque un peu tongue . Le systme d'analepse est pas mal lui aussi, mme si faut faire gaffe pour pas se pommer.
L'ambiance des rues et de la vie des voleurs est bien rendu, bref, je suis plutt conquis pour le moment smile


"Un p'tit tour de magie peut-tre? Ce crayon, je vais le faire disparatre. TADAAAM!! Il a...dis-pa-ru..."

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#35 04/08/2006 04:31:08

pat5150
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Emmanuel,

Puisque je n'ai pas eu ta confirmation par email, je veux simplement m'assurer que tu as reu les rponses de Scott que je t'ai envoy aujourd'hui.

Sinon, on recommence!big_smile

Patrick

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#36 05/08/2006 10:58:01

Gillossen
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Comme Pat le sait maintenant, les rponses ont bien t reues, et la traduction en cours, mme si je n'ai pas pu m'en charger personnellement. smile


Can I Interest You In A Comfy London Apartment At 221B Baker St.?

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#37 07/08/2006 14:07:16

Aslan
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Voil, l'interview est en ligne ! smile

arrow http://www.elbakin.net/fantasy/news/Scott-...a-nos-questions

Questions de Gillo, et traduction de Thys ! wink


Homme, dit Aslan, voici Cair Paravel aux quatre trnes, et sur l'un d'eux tu dois siger en tant que roi.

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#38 07/08/2006 14:35:25

Merwin Tonnel
POYO!!!
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Merci pour l'interview. smile L'auteur semble toujours sympa. Il parait bien sincre dans le sens o il cache pas le fait que son succs l'excite avec de la fausse modestie et qu'il dit ce qu'il a pas la langue trop noue. Et puis un auteur geek, c'est toujours sympa whistling

J'ai plus qu' attendre la trad de Bragelonne. wink


"Faith is a personal accord between a lone soul and that in which it chooses to believe. In any other guise it is nothing more than a thin coat of sacred paint slapped over politics and the secular lust for power."

Steven Erikson - Forge of Darkness

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#39 07/08/2006 14:47:02

zedd
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Merci pour l'interview et sa traduction! smile

Selon mon diteur de Gollancz en Angleterre, cela (un nouvel auteur qui vend les droits de son premier roman) est arriv seulement deux de ces auteurs en 15 ans. L'autre tant Richard Morgan, qui a gagn bien plus d'argent avec a que moi. ;-)

S'il a autant de talent que Morgan (un de mes auteurs SF prfrs (qui doit crire une trilogie de fantasy en plus!))....
smile

Mais toujours est-il que cet auteur m'est de plus en plus sympathique... Il a l'air de pas trop se prendre la tte et a me plait! tongue
Vivement la VF en tout cas! Celle-ci me parat de plus en plus loin... tongue

Zedd

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#40 07/08/2006 15:01:10

Kaines
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Re: Critique ! [Les Mensonges de Locke Lamora]

Merci pour cette nouvelle srie de questions qui compltent bien la prcdente interview ! smile Je rejoins les autres avis sur cet auteur sympathique, qui a tout pour plaire. Je croise donc les doigts pour que son premier tome vaille le coup (japprcierais car je lai dj command wink ).
Par contre, je nai pas compris la rfrence au chaton (vraiment charmant). Sagit-il de sa muse ? tongue


Les soldats vivent et se demandent pourquoi.
GLEN COOK In La Compagnie Noire, Soldats de pierre.

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