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'Salem's Lot [Anglais] [Poche]

Stephen King
5.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (2 commentaires client)
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Description de l'ouvrage

27 décembre 2011

Ben Mears has returned to Jerusalem's Lot in the hopes that living in an old mansion, long the subject of town lore, will help him cast out his own devils and provide inspiration for his new book. But when two young boys venture into the woods and only one comes out alive, Mears begins to realize that there may be something sinister at work and that his hometown is under siege by forces of darkness far beyond his control.


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Descriptions du produit

Extrait

Chapter One

Ben (I)

By the time he had passed Portland going north on the turnpike, Ben Mears had begun to feel a not unpleasurable tingle of excitement in his belly. It was September 5, 1975, and summer was enjoying her final grand fling. The trees were bursting with green, the sky was a high, soft blue, and just over the Falmouth town line he saw two boys walking a road parallel to the expressway with fishing rods settled on their shoulders like carbines.

He switched to the travel lane, slowed to the minimum turnpike speed, and began to look for anything that would jog his memory. There was nothing at first, and he tried to caution himself against almost sure disappointment. You were nine then. That's twenty-five years of water under the bridge. Places change. Like people.
In those days the four-lane 295 hadn't existed. If you wanted to go to Portland from the Lot, you went out Route 12 to Falmouth and then got on Number 1. Time had marched on.

Stop that shit.

But it was hard to stop. It was hard to stop when--

A big BSA cycle with jacked handlebars suddenly roared past him in the passing lane, a kid in a T-shirt driving, a girl in a red cloth jacket and huge mirror-lensed sunglasses riding pillion behind him. They cut in a little too quickly and he overreacted, jamming on his brakes and laying both hands on the horn. The BSA sped up, belching blue smoke from its exhaust, and the girl jabbed her middle finger back at him.

He resumed speed, wishing for a cigarette. His hands were trembling slightly. The BSA was almost out of sight now, moving fast. The kids. The goddamned kids. Memories tried to crowd in on him, memories of a more recent vintage. He pushed them away. He hadn't been on a motorcycle in two years. He planned never to ride on one again.

A flash of red caught his eye off to the left, and when he glanced that way, he felt a burst of pleasure and recognition. A large red barn stood on a hill far across a rising field of timothy and clover, a barn with a cupola painted white--even at this distance he could see the sun gleam on the weather vane atop that cupola. It had been there then and was still here now. It looked exactly the same. Maybe it was going to be all right after all. Then the trees blotted it out.

As the turnpike entered Cumberland, more and more things began to seem familiar. He passed over the Royal River, where they had fished for steelies and pickerel as boys. Past a brief, flickering view of Cumberland Village through the trees. In the distance the Cumberland water tower with its huge slogan painted across the side: "Keep Maine Green." Aunt Cindy had always said someone should print "Bring Money" underneath that.

His original sense of excitement grew and he began to speed up, watching for the sign. It came twinkling up out of the distance in reflectorized green five miles later:

ROUTE 12 JERUSALEM'S LOT
CUMBERLAND CUMBERLAND CTR

A sudden blackness came over him, dousing his good spirits like sand on fire. He had been subject to these since (his mind tried to speak Miranda's name and he would not let it) the bad time and was used to fending them off, but this one swept over him with a savage power that was dismaying.

What was he doing, coming back to a town where he had lived for four years as a boy, trying to recapture something that was irrevocably lost? What magic could he expect to recapture by walking roads that he had once walked as a boy and were probably asphalted and straightened and logged off and littered with tourist beer cans? The magic was gone, both white and black. It had all gone down the chutes on that night when the motorcycle had gone out of control and then there was the yellow moving van, growing and growing, his wife Miranda's scream, cut off with sudden finality when--

The exit came up on his right, and for a moment he considered driving right past it, continuing on to Chamberlain or Lewiston, stopping for lunch, and then turning around and going back. But back where? Home? That was a laugh. If there was a home, it had been here. Even if it had only been four years, it was his.

He signaled, slowed the Citroën, and went up the ramp. Toward the top, where the turnpike ramp joined Route 12 (which became Jointner Avenue closer to town), he glanced up toward the horizon. What he saw there made him jam the brakes on with both feet. The Citro‘n shuddered to a stop and stalled.

The trees, mostly pine and spruce, rose in gentle slopes toward the east, seeming to almost crowd against the sky at the limit of vision. From here the town was not visible. Only the trees, and in the distance, where those trees rose against the sky, the peaked, gabled roof of the Marsten House.

He gazed at it, fascinated. Warring emotions crossed his face with kaleidoscopic swiftness.

"Still here," he murmured aloud. "By God."

He looked down at his arms. They had broken out in goose flesh.


TWO

He deliberately skirted town, crossing into Cumberland and then coming back into 'salem's Lot from the west, taking the Burns Road. He was amazed by how little things had changed out here. There were a few new houses he didn't remember, there was a tavern called Dell's just over the town line, and a pair of fresh gravel quarries. A good deal of the hardwood had been pulped over. But the old tin sign pointing the way to the town dump was still there, and the road itself was still unpaved, full of chuckholes and washboards, and he could see Schoolyard Hill through the slash in the trees where the Central Maine Power pylons ran on a northwest to southeast line. The Griffen farm was still there, although the barn had been enlarged. He wondered if they still bottled and sold their own milk. The logo had been a smiling cow under the name brand: "Sunshine Milk from the Griffen Farms!" He smiled. He had splashed a lot of that milk on his corn flakes at Aunt Cindy's house.

He turned left onto the Brooks Road, passed the wrought-iron gates and the low fieldstone wall surrounding Harmony Hill Cemetery, and then went down the steep grade and started up the far side--the side known as Marsten's Hill.

At the top, the trees fell away on both sides of the road. On the right, you could look right down into the town proper--Ben's first view of it. On the left, the Marsten House. He pulled over and got out of the car.

It was just the same. There was no difference, not at all. He might have last seen it yesterday.

The witch grass grew wild and tall in the front yard, obscuring the old, frost-heaved flagstones that led to the porch. Chirring crickets sang in it, and he could see grasshoppers jumping in erratic parabolas.

The house itself looked toward town. It was huge and rambling and sagging, its windows haphazardly boarded shut, giving it that sinister look of all old houses that have been empty for a long time. The paint had been weathered away, giving the house a uniform gray look. Windstorms had ripped many of the shingles off, and a heavy snowfall had punched in the west corner of the main roof, giving it a slumped, hunched look. A tattered no-trespassing sign was nailed to the right-hand newel post.

He felt a strong urge to walk up that overgrown path, past the crickets and hoppers that would jump around his shoes, climb the porch, peek between the haphazard boards into the hallway or the front room. Perhaps try the front door. If it was unlocked, go in.

He swallowed and stared up at the house, almost hypnotized. It stared back at him with idiot indifference.

You walked down the hall, smelling wet plaster and rotting wallpaper, and mice would skitter in the walls. There would still be a lot of junk lying around, and you might pick something up, a paperweight maybe, and put it in your pocket. Then, at the end of the hall, instead of going through into the kitchen, you could turn left and go up the stairs, your feet gritting in the plaster dust which had sifted down from the ceiling over the years. There were fourteen steps, exactly fourteen. But the top one was smaller, out of proportion, as if it had been added to avoid the evil number. At the top of the stairs you stand on the landing, looking down the hall toward a closed door. And if you walk down the hall toward it, watching as if from outside yourself as the door gets closer and larger, you can reach out your hand and put it on the tarnished silver knob--

He turned away from the house, a straw-dry whistle of air slipping from his mouth. Not yet. Later, perhaps, but not yet. For now it was enough to know that all of that was still here. It had waited for him. He put his hands on the hood of his car and looked out over the town. He could find out down there who was handling the Marsten House, and perhaps lease it. The kitchen would make an adequate writing room and he could bunk down in the front parlor. But he wouldn't allow himself to go upstairs.

Not unless it had to be done.

He got in his car, started it, and drove down the hill to Jerusalem's Lot.


Chapter Two

Susan (I)

He was sitting on a bench in the park when he observed the girl watching him. She was a very pretty girl, and there was a silk scarf tied over her light blond hair. She was currently reading a book, but there was a sketch pad and what looked like a charcoal pencil beside her. It was Tuesday, September 16, the first day of school, and the park had magically emptied of the rowdier element. What was left was a scattering of mothers with infants, a few old men sitting by the war memorial, and this girl sitting in the dappled shade of a gnarled old elm.

She looked up and saw him. An expression of startlement crossed her face. She looked down at her book; looked up at him again and started to rise; almost thought better of it; did rise; sat down again.

He got up and walked over, holding his own book, which was a paperback Western. "Hello," he said agreeably. "Do we know each oth...

Revue de presse

"Spine-tingling fiction at its best." --Grand Rapids Press

"A master storyteller." --The Los Angeles Times

"An unabashed chiller." --Austin American Statesman

“[The] most wonderfully gruesome man on the planet.” —USA Today
 
A super exorcism...tremendous.” —Kirkus Reviews
 
“A novel of chilling, unspeakable evil.” —Chattanooga Times
 
“[King is] . . . the guy who probably knows more about scary goings-on in confined, isolated places than anybody since Edgar Allan Poe.” —Entertainment Weekly
 
“Stephen King has built a literary genre of putting ordinary people in the most terrifying situations. . . . he’s the author who can always make the improbable so scary you'll feel compelled to check the locks on the front door.” —The Boston Globe
 
“Peerless imagination.” —The Observer (London)

Détails sur le produit

  • Poche: 672 pages
  • Editeur : Anchor; Édition : Reprint (27 décembre 2011)
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ISBN-10: 0307743675
  • ISBN-13: 978-0307743671
  • Dimensions du produit: 4 x 6,9 x 1,6 cm
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 5.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (2 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: 10.149 en Livres anglais et étrangers (Voir les 100 premiers en Livres anglais et étrangers)
  •  Souhaitez-vous compléter ou améliorer les informations sur ce produit ? Ou faire modifier les images?


En savoir plus sur l'auteur

Stephen King est l'auteur de plus de cinquante livres, tous best-sellers d'entre eux à travers le monde. Parmi ses plus récentes sont les romans La Tour Sombre, Cell, Du Hearts Buick 8, Everything's Eventual, en Atlantide, La Petite Fille qui aimait Tom Gordon, et Sac d'os. Son livre documentaire acclamé, sur l'écriture, a également été un best-seller. Il est le récipiendaire de la Médaille nationale de 2003 Réservez Fondation pour contribution exceptionnelle aux lettres américaines. Il vit à Bangor, Maine, avec son épouse, la romancière Tabitha King.

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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Ici les vampires ne brillent pas au soleil... 18 décembre 2013
Par Audrey B TOP 500 COMMENTATEURS
Format:Poche|Achat authentifié par Amazon
'Salem's lot est le second roman de Stephen King. Publié un an seulement après Carrie, Salem nous montre déjà que le King est en train de trouver sa voie, non seulement comme auteur de romans d'horreur mais également fin observateur et peintre de la société américaine.
En effet Salem's lot n'est pas juste une histoire de vampire. C'est également une histoire parsemée de scènes de vie d'une petite communauté rurale où tout le monde connait tout le monde, un cercle clos aux multiples personnages.
King a déjà beaucoup progressé depuis Carrie. Les personnages, plus nombreux, ont tous une personnalité bien marquée et sont tous attachants (rhaaa j'aurais bien aimé en savoir plus sur le devenir de ce pauvre père Callahan...).
Quant à l'histoire d'horreur en elle-même, c'est une bonne histoire de vampire, bien menée et même si je ne suis pas du tout amatrice de ce genre (les vampires je veux dire, pas l'horreur) je suis restée accrochée au bouquins. Ici pas de Twilight, les affreux le sont vraiment et on est de tout coeur avec Ben et ses camarades dans leur lutte contre l'horreur qui envahit Jerusalem's lot.
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Un de mes préférés, un des meilleurs 16 février 2010
Par Barthel Damien TOP 1000 COMMENTATEURS
Format:Poche
La classe internationale, ce roman (ici présent dans sa version rallongée) ! Sans aucun doute un des sommets de l'entière oeuvre de King, un roman terrifiant sur les vampires, doté de personnages attachants (Ben, Susan, Mark, Matt, Jimmy, le Père Callahan) ou inquiétants. Un de mes préférés absolus, et pas seulement de King, mais de tous les livres, tous auteurs réunis, que j'ai pu lire !
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Amazon.com: 4.5 étoiles sur 5  873 commentaires
69 internautes sur 73 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Illustrated Edition Literary Equivalent of SE DVD 8 novembre 2005
Par Keith W. Johnson - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
The Illustrated Edition of 'Salem's Lot is set up much like a 'Special Edition' DVD. The book boasts over 50 pages of 'deleted or alternative' scenes, a new introduction, and two previously published short stories ("One for the Road" and "Jerusalem's Lot"). The short stories don't have much to do with the characters or plot of the novel but certainly flesh out the 'special features' that the Illustrated Edition has to offer. If you've never read 'Night Shift' (or maybe even if you have, and it's been awhile), then they'll serve as an added treat.

If one is a fan of Stephen King, this is a must own. A somewhat already infamous passage (mentioned by King before) where one character is offed by a gang of rats in a basement is restored in all its deliciously gory glory. While we're on the topic, the bonus passages are NOT inserted into the text of the novel but offered in a later section. This is not a 'director's cut' of the book but set up like a DVD where one can flip to and peruse the deleted sections if one chooses to do so. It's the same novel as before, so if you're looking for something completely new a la Revised version of 'The Stand', this may not be what you're looking for. However, if you are interested into further delving into the world of 'Salem's Lot or interested in what King and/or his editors decided to take out from the original text, then you'll be in Stephen King heaven.

The photographs are stark, chilling, and beautiful... though sparse throughout the book. Basically, they seperate the sections and serve as covers.

As for the novel itself, it is both a compelling and entertaining read. As mentioned in the Amazon review, all the King staples are here (i.e. small town, secrets, and darkness pervading the ordinariness of life). I read this when I was probably way too young to have read it, and it scared me for weeks and turned me into a King junkie for life. If you're a King fan, horror fan, or just looking for a great read, you cannot go wrong with 'Salem's Lot.
105 internautes sur 119 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Today's Readers are Jaded 11 juillet 2011
Par Karen E. Rice - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Format Kindle|Achat authentifié par Amazon
Today's readers, first becoming introduced to Stephen King, are jaded. They have been spoiled by the explosion of more graphic and explicit entertainment of late. When I first read 'Salem's Lot as a young teen, I was horrified, terrified, petrified. It was (and still is) brilliant storytelling. I was scared, not by the graphic scenes (which were few) but by the *implications* and the unwritten horror, there between the lines.

I feel sorry for today's readers who seem to have little or no imagination left. For us old fogies, who discovered King in the dark, under the sheets and with a flashlight after Mom went to bed and knowing she'd take the book away *for good* if she found you reading it, 'Salem's Lot is a delicious masterpiece of terror.

This Kindle edition was a great treat. I downloaded it without reading much about the edition...what was there to "know?" It was 'Salem's Lot, the only King novel to give me NIGHTMARES. As I was reading, I remembered a short story about "The Lot" from one of King's other books, about a guy who left his wife and kid in a snowbank in the car...and I was straining to remember the name of the story or the book it was from....imagine my delight at the "end" of 'Salem's Lot to discover it wasn't THE END...there was MORE! The story I was trying to recall was "One for the Road" and there was another one I hadn't read before called "Jerusalem's Lot" and then there were the "deleted" or edited scenes from King's original plan for 'Salem's Lot....oh the joy! You hate to see a good book end, and so I was happy that 'Salem's Lot didn't end quite so soon. :)

For unimaginative readers who desire an author to spell out lot of blood and gore and graphic sex, 'Salem's Lot is not for you. For the rest of us, who love to curl their toes at the unspoken, who break out in goosebumps at the subtlety, who long to feel the emotions and terror of the characters....'Salem's Lot welcomes you.
64 internautes sur 71 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Keep a Crucifix Handy! 3 septembre 2004
Par Dennis Phillips - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
Jerusalem's Lot is an unassuming small town in southern Maine. It is the kind of town where everybody knows everybody else and most of the residents have lived there all of their lives. In this atmosphere it was odd indeed when three strangers came to town at almost the same time. One of these strangers wasn't really a stranger at all. He had spent part of his childhood there and had returned in hopes of ridding himself of some old demons. The other two strangers also had an old connection with the town but it was a much darker and sinister connection.

Stephen King starts his macabre tale with these facts and then begins to weave a fascinating tail. He introduces the reader to the town in such a way that it makes one feel as if he had actually been to this fictional place. The reader will get to know many of the residents, some all too well. Some are likable, some are loathsome, and some are described so well that the reader will actually mourn their passing. One can easily feel Ben Mears' pain when he finds out that someone that he is very close to is gone.

As the dark cloud of vampirism spreads across the town there are a few residents who figure out what is going on. Some refuse to believe what logic and their senses tell them and they fall victim to the curse while others figure things out in time to flee. A few try to stop the spread of this evil and pay dearly. For those who have not seen one of the movies based on this book, this is all of the story that I am going to give away. For those who have seen the movies, neither movie follows the book too closely and the book is far superior to either film.

King's flair for this type of story is well known and I can assure you that you will not be disappointed with this book. It will entertain you, it will scare you, and it will delight you. While reading parts of this book I was able to feel the sense of dread that many people in the Lot were feeling. King is indeed a master when it comes to bringing gloom and doom off of his pages and into the hearts of his readers.

There are a few places where it is a little hard to follow just who is saying what in some of the conversations but beyond that I could find few flaws. I found it very interesting that the reader would not be able to figure out what was happening to the town until about the same time some of the characters do. Of course, that was when this book first came out. I dare say that few people who start this book now, nearly thirty years after it was written will be surprised by the basics of the story. The creepy factor must have been much greater before the plot was given away by the movies, but rest assured, there are still plenty of creeps between the covers of this book.
28 internautes sur 31 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Beautiful Darkness 27 novembre 2003
Par Gary F. Taylor - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
Stephen King has always been regarded as more of a pop fiction writer than a literary author--but in 1975 he turned out a book which, although overshadowed by the massive success of his later work, will stand the test: 'SALEM'S LOT. Simple yet multi-layered, elegant yet grotesque, this is the book that shows what King can really do when he sets his mind to it.
The story opens with Ben Mears, an author who has come to his childhood home of 'Salem's Lot with the idea of writing a novel about the small town's "haunted house" of note. As he observes the town, he also becomes a part of it, meeting a young woman who might be more than a passing interest, making new friends and renewing old acquaintances. But there is something--indefinable. Something that is slowly going wrong in the town. And it is connected with the "haunted house" of his childhood memories.
King is clearly drawing from several sources for inspiration, most particularly Bram Stoker's DRACULA and Shirley Jackson's THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE, as well as from traditional vampire lore. But what he does with this story of a vampire infestation in a quiet New England town is completely original, peeling back the lives of the townfolk in layers and then showing their gradual corruption as the plague spreads.
'SALEM'S LOT is more subtle than most King novels. It builds with a deliberate slowness and gradually develops a sense of paranoia--that suddenly explodes into a classic horror that keeps you reading through the night with every light in the house turned on. And King's style here is extraordinary: everything about the book is very precise with not a word out of place, the plot at once fantastic and disturbingly logical. There are several Stephen King novels on my bookshelf, and I enjoy them... but this is the one to which I most often return. If you've never read it, prepare yourself for Stephen King at his best. If you have read it, it's time to read it again.
GFT, Amazon Reviewer
44 internautes sur 51 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Vampires? Who Said Anything About Vampires? 25 octobre 1999
Par "buddy_x" - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
This is King's best book. I read it fifteen years ago, when I was the last student still living in my gothic dormitory at Yale. It scared the hell out of me. Too bad, but by now, almost everyone knows that 'Salem's Lot is a vampire novel. I consider that a spoiler. What was so frightening for me the first time through was not quite knowing what was wrong with this town. Much is made of the old vacant Marsten house, and I thought I was reading a haunted house story. It's not until well into the book that King makes any overt reference to vampires, and when he finally does, it is with a sense of both discovery and inevitability that the reader learns the true nature of what is afflicting the town. Why, of course it's vampires. What else could it be but but vampires?
As for the book being a ripoff of Dracula--well, yes. In the same sense that the movies Blade or The Hunger rip off Dracula, or that the novel Mary Reilly is a ripoff of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. They are retellings. The Dracula thing isn't much more than an imaginative launching point. As someone who's actually read Stoker's Dracula, I think it's an important Gothic novel and preFreudian allegory -- but not all that scary. Not nearly as frightening as 'Salem's Lot.
King is at the top of his game here, and he portrays people who make sense, who belong in this story, and whose character is their destiny.
For all his prolific output, I wish King would do a sequel. This remains his most elegant, most successful, taut and transporting novel.
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