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Graffiti Moon
 
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Graffiti Moon [Format Kindle]

Cath Crowley
5.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (1 commentaire client)

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Descriptions du produit

Extrait

Lucy

I pedal fast. Down Rose Drive, where houses swim in pools of orange streetlight. Where people sit on verandas, hoping to catch a breeze. Let me make it in time. Please let me make it in time.

Just arrived at the studio. Your graffiti guys Shadow and Poet are here, Al texted, and I took off across the night. Took off under a sky bleeding out and turning black. Left Dad sitting outside his shed yelling, “I thought you weren’t meeting Jazz till later. Where’s the fire, Lucy Dervish?”

In me. Under my skin.

Let me make it in time. Let me meet Shadow. Poet too but mainly Shadow. The guy who paints in the dark. Paints birds trapped on brick walls and people lost in ghost forests. Paints guys with grass growing from their hearts and girls with buzzing lawn mowers. An artist who paints things like that is someone I could fall for. Really fall for.

I’m so close to meeting him, and I want it so bad. Mum says when wanting collides with getting, that’s the moment of truth. I want to collide. I want to run right into Shadow and let the force spill our thoughts so we can pick each other up and pass each other back like piles of shiny stones.

At the top of Singer Street I see the city, neon blue and rising. There’s lightning deep in the sky, working its way through the heat to the surface. There’s laughter somewhere far away. There’s one of Shadow’s pieces, a painting on a crumbling wall of a heart cracked by earthquake with the words Beyond the Richter scale written underneath. It’s not a heart like you see on a Valentine’s Day card. It’s the heart how it really is: fine veins and atriums and arteries. A fist-­size forest in our chest.

I take my hands off the brakes and let go. The trees and the fences mess together and the concrete could be the sky and the sky could be the concrete and the factories spread out before me like a light-­scattered dream.

I turn a corner and fly down Al’s street. Toward his studio, toward him sitting on the steps, little moths above him, playing in the light. Toward a shadow in the distance. A shadow of Shadow. There’s collision up ahead.

I spin the last stretch and slide to a stop. “I’m here. I made it. Do I look okay? How do I look?”

Al drains his coffee and puts the cup on the step beside him. “Like a girl who missed them by about five minutes.”

Ed

It’s a sweating hot night for October. More people are out than usual, so I spray the sky fast. Eyes ahead and behind. Looking for cops. Looking for anyone I don’t want to be here. Paint sails and the things that kick in my head scream from can to brick. See this, see this, see this. See me emptied onto a wall.

First thing I ever painted was a girl. Second thing I ever painted was a doorway on a brick wall. Went on to paint huge doorways. Moved on to skies. Open skies painted above painted doorways and painted birds skimming across bricks trying to fly away. Little bird, what are you thinking? You come from a can.

Tonight I’m doing this bird that’s been in my head all day. He’s a little yellow guy lying on sweet green grass. Belly to clouds, legs facing the same direction. He could be sleeping. He could be dead. The yellow’s right. The green too. The sky’s all wrong. I need the sort of blue that rips your inside out. You don’t see blue like that round here.

Bert was always trying to find it for me. Every week or so at the paint store he’d show me a blue he’d special-­ordered. “Close, boss,” I’d say. “But not close enough.”

He still hadn’t found it when he died two months ago. He got all the other colors I wanted. The green this bird’s lying on is a shade he found over two years back, after I quit school and went to work for him. I made it to the end of June in year ten, and then I couldn’t make it any longer.

“You had a good first day,” Bert told me when he handed the green over. “Real good.”

“This is very fucking nice,” I said, spraying some on a card and taking it as a sign that leaving school was the right thing to do. That Mum was wrong about wanting me to stay on.

“It is very fucking nice.” Bert looked over his shoulder. “But don’t say ‘fuck’ when my wife Valerie’s around.” Bert always swore like a kid scared of getting caught. I laughed about it till Val heard me swearing. Bert had the last chuckle that day.

“What’s so funny?” a voice behind me asks.

“Shit, Leo.” A line of blue goes into the grass on the wall. “Don’t sneak up.”

“I’ve been calling your name since the top of the hill. And the council made this place legal, remember?” He finishes the last bit of his sausage roll. “I like the rush of working where we might get caught.”

“I like the rush of painting,” I tell him.

He watches me for a bit. “So I called your mobile earlier. It’s disconnected.”

“Uh-­huh. Didn’t pay the bill.” I hand him the can. “I’m hungry. Write the words.”

Leo looks at my picture of a wide sky hanging over that yellow bird. He points at the kid on the wall. “Nice touch.”

While he thinks a bit longer, I look around. The old guy who works at the glass studio across the road is on the steps, texting and staring at us. At least I know he’s not calling the cops.

Leo always makes his writing suit the piece. Sometimes he uses fonts he finds online. Sometimes he makes up his own and names them. Tonight he smokes the word Peace across the clouds, letters drifting and curling. It’s funny how two guys can look at the same thing and see it differently. I don’t see peace when I look at that bird. I see my future. I hope it’s only sleeping.

His hand moves across the wall, signing our names. He always writes them the same way. His then mine in a font he calls Phantasm.

Poet.

Shadow.

We leave the old guy on the steps with his coffee and head up Vine Street. It’s a fifteen-­minute walk to my place if you take the main roads, but Leo and me never do. We take the side streets and alleys.

I live on the other side of the train yard, so we jump the fence and cut through, looking out for people working as we walk. I like seeing their thoughts hit the carriages. Makes the city as much ours as someone else’s.

“So I saw Beth today,” Leo says. “She asked me how you were doing.” He throws stones at the dead trains. “It sounded like she wants you back.”

I stop and take out a can and spray a greeting-­card heart with a gun pointed at it. “We’ve been over almost three months.” Since August first, not that I’m counting.

“You mind if I ask her out, then?”

“You mind if I spray a piece on the side of your gran’s house?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, right. You’re over.”

“I like her, just not anything more than that. She used to do this thing where she’d lean over and kiss me and then take a break to whisper hilarious stuff in my ear and then kiss me again. I’d be screaming, What’s wrong with you? Fall in love with her, you dick.”

“She didn’t think that was weird?”

“Inside. I was screaming on the inside. Anyway, I never fell in love with her so I guess the part of the brain that controls love doesn’t respond to being called a dick.”

“For your sake, I’m hoping no part of your brain responds to being called a dick.”

“Fair point.” I wish I hadn’t thought about Beth doing that thing because now I can feel her at my ear, warm breath and sweet tickling and her voice sounding like that blue I’ve been searching for.

“Were you in love with Emma?” I ask.

“I was hard-­core obsessed,” he says without thinking about it. “Not in love.”

Revue de presse

This is a heart-stopping romantic adventure, singing with a love of art and language. (Judges' comments, 2011 Prime Minister's Literary Awards)

Crowley celebrates friendship, curiosity, and intellectual pursuits and writes funny, sophisticated books that zing with wit and energy... (Anges Nieuwenhuizen, Magpies Volume Twenty-five)

Graffiti Moon is so beautifully crafted that the shift between points of view is virtually seamless. Poet's free verse contributions are rather like the tense pauses in great music -- a place for readers to hold their breath and wait, skin tingling with anticipation, for the change in pace, pitch and rhythm. (NSW Association for Gifted and Talented Children)

Teenage Midsummer Night's Dream of magic, romance and transformation. (Financial Times)

A pacy and action-packed read. The real selling point is Crowley's fabulously lyrical prose, which is an absolute pleasure to read. (Bookbag)

A rare gem of a book. I actually stopped reading it to make it last longer! Funny and romantic; the realistic dialogue is one of the novel's many strengths. The novel is like a breath of fresh air; witty, funny, intelligent and the story told by a light but assured hand. Sensitive and utterly realistic of how young people live, it is an absolute must for libraries. (School Librarian)

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 1325 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 274 pages
  • Pagination - ISBN de l'édition imprimée de référence : B0041KLBPS
  • Editeur : Knopf Books for Young Readers; Édition : Reprint (14 février 2012)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B0051AMYQC
  • Synthèse vocale : Activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 5.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (1 commentaire client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°133.642 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
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Commentaires client les plus utiles
5.0 étoiles sur 5 une histoire pleine de rêve et de poésie 8 avril 2013
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
c'est un livre Young Adults, et pourtant il m'a parlé.
Les deux héros sont tellement attachants, avec leurs rêves pleins la tête et la poésie qui entoure toutes leurs actions, leurs paroles, leurs idées et leurs observations. Ils regardent la vie avec des yeux d'artistes, ça doit être splendide de voir la vie comme ça, et c'est fantastique, aussi, de pouvoir écrire ce genre d'histoire et décrire ce genre de personnalité !
L'histoire se déroule pourtant sur quelques heures tout au plus, elle est toute simple finalement, puisque c'est l'histoire d'une re-recontre avec une 1re ratée...
Vraiment, je trouve que l'auteur a beaucoup de talent, je vais suivre sa carrière avec attention.
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Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com: 4.5 étoiles sur 5  95 commentaires
19 internautes sur 23 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Deeply satisfying 17 juin 2011
Par Penni - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
Dear Me of Two Weeks Ago,
Reasons why you will like this book:
Everything happens in the space of one night. Remember when nights had territories? When darkness seethed with possibility? When you could fall in love in the course of a single night and change your life as well? Though it will take you a few days to read it, as long as your characters dwell in that single night, so will a part of you, from first page till last.
In the world of this book art matters, love matters, poetry matters, and it reminds you of being sixteen when you did think about how art collided with life, when you knew how to look at a wall.
This book has its own beating heart. The characters are at least as real as you are. Probably a little realler if truth be told.
I really think you ought to read this book.
Love Me Who Has Read This Book
6 internautes sur 7 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Such a lovely book - even if you're not in the target market! 4 septembre 2011
Par kimberly - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
I purchased this book after seeing the author speak at the Melbourne Writers Festival. Being almost 40, I wondered if I would enjoy it, but her expressed love of words made me curious. I'm SO glad I did - I completely LOVED this beautifully written book. The story is not just one for young people - the themes I found of hiding one's true self, dreams, the need to have someone to believe in you, love of art - are universal. So I'd recommend it for any age if you have a love of words, but also love a great story. I finished it in a day and am now feeling sorry to have rushed it. It's one I'll be re-reading and recommending.
6 internautes sur 8 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Truly extraordinary! 20 juin 2012
Par Evie Seo - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
"I guess love's kind of like a marshmallow in a microwave on high. After it explodes it's still a marshmallow. but, you know, now it's a complicated marshmallow." (quote from the book)

Graffiti Moon does not need introducing, nor does it really need another raving review. There are plenty of those already out there. Even if you're living under a rock, or on Mars, or you're completely against technology and Internet - I still think you must have at least heard about this book by now. It's been on everyone's lips ever since it first popped up on netGalley, readers were gushing about it, it's been hyped up to the Moon and back, and it literally took over the blogosphere for a while. I'm fairly certain most of us are still reeling from it. So, no, Graffiti Moon does not need introducing, but I simply can't host a Contemporary Fiction Month without featuring this brilliant, spellbinding and completely magical love story, in a similar way that I wouldn't be able to make a tuna sandwich without, well, tuna. This book is a fantastic addition to the genre, and if - for whatever reason - you haven't read it yet, you need to realize one thing: You're missing out on something extraordinary.

"Every time he looked at me I felt like I'd touched my tongue to the tip of a battery. In art class I'd watch him lean back and listen and I was nothing but zing and tingle. After a while, the tingle turned to electricity, and when he asked me out my whole body amped to a level where technically I should have been dead. I had nothing in common with a sheddy like him, but a girl doesn't think straight when she's that close to electrocution." (quote from the book)

This is the kind of book that fills your heart with warm and fuzzy feelings and makes your head spin from its intensely moving, lyrical, exhilarating passages. It's a treat not only for you mind, but also for your soul. And it's achingly beautiful. Crownley's poetic prose is so extraordinary, it puts Shatter Me to shame, and it does not hit a single wrong note. It's intimate, gentle, evocative, emotional, seductive and just so amazing to read. The characters, too, are gorgeous and I really loved the unique chemistry between them. On top of all that, Graffiti Moon had a really great, captivating plot. It was simple, uncomplicated and well-paced, and it featured one night - just one warm, life-alternating, moon-illuminated night that would forever change the lives of two teenagers. Full of humour, sparkly dialogues and spine-tingling reflections, Grafiti Moon weaves a spell about love and fate, misunderstandings, searching for happiness, and pursuing your dreams. Lucy's search for Shadow, her fascination with his work, all the beautifully depicted night cityscapes and phenomenal graffities - all these things will melt your heart and make you wish this book was longer than it is. The way the story is told - alternating between Lucy's and Ed's POV - provides you with incredibly vivid insights into their minds and hearts, allowing you to really connect with them. It's a totally absorbing, very entertaining, and ultimately satisfying read.

"If you treat glass right, it doesn't crack. If you know the properties, you can make things; the color of dusk and night and love. But you can't control people like that and I really, really wish you could. I want the world to be glass." (quote from the book)

If you like books packed with emotions, meaningful thoughts, intelligent conversations and breathtaking visuals - this is the book for you. It's definitely one of the most beautiful, charming and enjoyable books I have ever read. I strongly recommend it.
1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Literally changed my point of view on life 16 avril 2014
Par Taylor sharpe - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
These characters are to die for. I love the dialogue between all of them because they are all so interesting. They are all so diverse yet I see myself in all of them. They are still completely relate able Ugh I wish that it was longer because I couldn't get enough of this beautiful writing. I highlighted so many phrases that I admired. This book is by far and forever will be one of my favorites.
1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Read It, Feel It, Get it 7 janvier 2014
Par Taylor Reid - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Broché|Achat vérifié
Spunky, creative and full of an energy that intensifies the reading! I loved everything about this book and the way it was plotted out. Highly recommend this book.

Warning for those who are more sensitive there are some choice words such as the f-word and others but other than that there was a nice Aussie feel overall!
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