Crystal Singer

Zusatztext No dragons! but [ Crystal Singer ] has all of [Anne] McCaffrey's gifts for world-buildingand characterization . . . an excellent book. Chicago Sun-Times Informationen zum Autor Anne McCaffrey, one of the world's most popular authors, is best known for her Dragonriders of Pern® series. She was the first woman to win the two top prizes for science fiction writing, the Hugo and Nebula awards. She was also given the American Library Association's Margaret A. Edwards Award for Lifetime Literary Achievement in Young Adult Fiction, was inducted into the Science Fiction Hall of Fame, and was named a Science Fiction Writers of America Grand Master. Born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1926, McCaffrey relocated to Ireland in the 1970s, where she lived in a house of her own design, named Dragonhold-Underhill. She died in 2011. Klappentext "No dragons, but [Crystal Singer] has all of [Anne] McCaffrey's gifts for world-building and characterization . . . an excellent book."-Chicago Sun-Times Her name was Killashandra Ree; and after ten grueling years of musical training she was young, beautiful-and still without prospects. Then she heard of the mysterious Heptite Guild on the planet Ballybran, where the fabled Black Crystal was found. For those qualified, the Guild was said to provide careers, security, and the chance for wealth beyond imagining. The problem was, few people who landed on Ballybran ever left. To Killashandra the risks were acceptable . . . Zusammenfassung No dragons! but [ Crystal Singer ] has all of [Anne] McCaffrey's gifts for world-building and characterization . . . an excellent book. Chicago Sun-Times Her name was Killashandra Ree; and after ten grueling years of musical training she was young! beautifuland still without prospects. Then she heard of the mysterious Heptite Guild on the planet Ballybran! where the fabled Black Crystal was found. For those qualified! the Guild was said to provide careers! security! and the chance for wealth beyond imagining. The problem was! few people who landed on Ballybran ever left. To Killashandra the risks were acceptable . . . ...

ldquo;No dragons, but [Crystal Singer] has all of [Anne] McCaffrey's gifts for world-buildingand characterization . . . an excellent book.”—Chicago Sun-Times

Auteur
Anne McCaffrey, one of the world’s most popular authors, is best known for her Dragonriders of Pern® series. She was the first woman to win the two top prizes for science fiction writing, the Hugo and Nebula awards. She was also given the American Library Association’s Margaret A. Edwards Award for Lifetime Literary Achievement in Young Adult Fiction, was inducted into the Science Fiction Hall of Fame, and was named a Science Fiction Writers of America Grand Master. Born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1926, McCaffrey relocated to Ireland in the 1970s, where she lived in a house of her own design, named Dragonhold-Underhill. She died in 2011.

Texte du rabat

"No dragons, but [Crystal Singer] has all of [Anne] McCaffrey's gifts for world-building and characterization . . . an excellent book."-Chicago Sun-Times

Her name was Killashandra Ree; and after ten grueling years of musical training she was young, beautiful-and still without prospects.

Then she heard of the mysterious Heptite Guild on the planet Ballybran, where the fabled Black Crystal was found.

For those qualified, the Guild was said to provide careers, security, and the chance for wealth beyond imagining. The problem was, few people who landed on Ballybran ever left.

To Killashandra the risks were acceptable . . .

Échantillon de lecture
CHAPTER 1
 
Killashandra listened as the words dropped with leaden fatality into her frozen belly. She stared at the maestro’s famous profile as his lips opened and shut around the words that meant the death of all her hopes and ambitions and rendered ten years of hard work and study a waste.
 
The maestro finally turned to face her. The genuine regret in his expressive eyes made him look older. The heavy singer’s muscles in his jaw relaxed sorrowfully into jowls.
 
One day, Killashandra might remember those details. Just then, she was too crushed by overwhelming defeat to be aware of more than her terrible personal failure.
 
“But . . . but . . . how could you?”
 
“How could I what?” the maestro asked in surprise.
 
“How could you lead me on?”
 
“Lead you on? But, my dear girl, I didn’t.”
 
“You did! You said—you said all I needed was hard work. Haven’t I worked hard enough?”
 
“Of course you have worked hard.” Valdi was affronted. “My students must apply themselves. It takes years of hard work to develop the voice, to learn even a segment of the outworld repertoire that must be performed.”
 
“I’ve repertoire! I’ve worked hard and now—now you tell me I’ve no voice?”
 
Maestro Valdi sighed heavily, a mannerism that had always irritated Killashandra and was now insupportable. She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a restraining hand. The habit of four years made her pause.
 
“You haven’t the voice to be a top-rank singer, my dear Killashandra, but that does not preclude any of the many other responsible and fulfilling . . .”
 
“I won’t be second rank. I want—I wanted ”—and she had the satisfaction of seeing him wince at the bitterness in her voice—“to be a top-rank concert singer. You said I had—”
 
He held up his hand again. “You have the gift of perfect pitch, your musicality is faultless, your memory superb, your dramatic potential can’t be criticized. But there is that burr in your voice which becomes intolerable in the higher register. While I thought it could be trained out, modified—” he shrugged his helplessness. He eyed her sternly. “Today’s audition with completely impartial judges proved conclusively that the flaw is inherent in the voice. This moment is cruel for you and not particularly pleasant for me.” He gave her another stern look, reacting to the rebellion in her stance. “I make few errors in judgment as to voice. I honestly thought I could help you. I cannot, and it would be doubly cruel of me to encourage you further as a soloist. No. You had best strengthen another facet of your potential.”
 
“And what, in your judgment, would that be?”
 
He had the grace to blink at her caustic words, then looked her squarely in the eye. “You don’t have the patience to teach, but you could do very well in one of the theater arts where your sympathy with the problems of a singer would stand you in good stead. No? You are a trained synthesizer? Hmmmm. Too bad, your musical education would be a real asset there.” He paused. “Well, then, I’d recommend you leave the theater arts entirely. With your sense of pitch, you could be a crystal tuner or an aircraft and shuffle dispatcher or—”
 
“Thank you, maestro,” she said, more from force of habit than any real gratitude. She gave him the half bow his rank required and withdrew.
 
Slamming the panel shut behind her, Killashandra stalked down the corridor, blinded by the tears she’d been too proud to shed in the maestro’s presence. Though she half wanted and half feared meeting a fellow student who would question her tears and commiserate with her disaster, she was inordinately relieved to reach her study cubicle without having encountered …