the shadow of the wind
Daniel Sempere reveals the mystery surrounding author Julián Carax in this lyrical novel of words, people, and the impossiblity and tragedy of love as it could only befall the lovelorn. Barcelona is seen through an amber tainted lens, conjuring a sepia toned vignette of a city decades in the past, where pesetas still exchanged hands for a plate of mouth-watering tapas and a cool glass of sangria. Dusty rotundas and filigreed lamp posts are strewn throughout the book and often bring about the vision of Barcelona's La Sagrada Familia and Antoni Gaudí's architecture to mind. But then, often enough buildings and landscapes are overshadowed by the characters that rise out of the pages and embed themselves in your mind – you can't stop thinking about them and what should happen next until you find that you've turned every last page in the book and you've come to the satisfying end beneath The Shadow of the Wind. If only I could read in Spanish – the satisfaction might far outweigh that of a delicious plate of tapas at a real Spanish restaurant, somewhere in Barcelona.
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