![]() In the opening paragraph of this long, twisty narrative, he asserts that every writer starts down a slippery slope from the moment he receives payment, or even a word of praise, for his work. He would not be the first writer to entertain that gloomy thought. He has accepted a lucrative commission from a mysterious editor from Paris, a glib, natty gent who claims to represent something known as Éditions de la Lumière - which, David has begun to suspect, means that he may actually have made a deal with the devil. This oddly precise rate is a clue to the source of David’s otherwise inexplicable agonies. Samson, in a monthly series of books entitled “City of the Damned,” which demands, he says, a steady pace of 6.66 pages a day. In fact, he cranks out what he calls “penny dreadful” prose with enviable facility, first in the form of a weekly newspaper serial called “The Mysteries of Barcelona” - his hometown - and later, under the pseudonym Ignatius B. It’s not that he has a tough time dreaming up stories or frets much over le mot juste. ![]() ![]() ![]() David Martín, the young hero and narrator of Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s moody, seductive new novel, “The Angel’s Game,” is one of those writers who suffer the torments of the damned in the practice of their craft. ![]()
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