Published July 2012 by Lightspeed Magazine
(first published 2007)
Originally published in Logorrhea: Good Words Make Good Stories,
BLURB; A hundred years ago, the blind instrument-maker known as Alem Das, or Alem the Master, made a dulcimer whose sound was sweeter, more passionate, and more filled with longing than any instrument that had ever been made.
MY RATING: 4.5 stars
bookshelves: short-story, fantasy, metafiction
En Boston, Sabra, una estudiante universitaria nacida en Etiopia , nos narra acerca de su madre abrumadora, conocer a un muchacho, escribir algo para sus estudios, el poeta Coleridge, y termina entrelazándonos en el poema de Kubla Khan de dicho autor mediante un relato fantástico lleno de imagenes orientales.
Es una historia dentro de otra historia. Lo de Kamora y el tio sabio es encantador en un sentido bastante clásico de cuento. Me encantó, valga la redundancia.
Gotta love clever singer women. Though, Sabra , honey, I very much doubt that /SPOILER-->your lover will be near either as impressive or beautiful as the Cloud Dragon<--SPOILER/[your lover will be near either as impressive or beautiful as the Cloud Dragon (hide spoiler)]
My mother was beautiful. I should say rather that she was a beauty, for to her, beauty was not a quality but a state of being. Beauty was her art, her profession.
She tapped the drum once with her finger, and Kamora heard a reverberation, not only from the drum itself, but from the stones around her, the scrubby cedars, bent by the wind, and even the air. It seemed to echo over the forested slopes of the mountain, and the hills below, on which she could see the tomb of the Great Khan, as white as the rising moon, and the plains stretching away into the distance.
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