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Lauren Beukes

The Shining Girls

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The girl who wouldn’t die. Hunting a killer who shouldn’t exist.
Chicago 1931. Violent drifter Harper Curtis stumbles upon a house that hides a secret as shocking as his own twisted nature: it opens onto other times. Harper uses it to stalk his ‘shining girls’ across decades — and cut the fire out of them.
He’s the perfect killer. Unstoppable. Untraceable. Until one of his victims survives and turns the hunt around.
Chicago, 1992. Kirby Mazrachi’s determination to find the man who tried to kill her has taken over her life. The cops no longer return her calls. Her mother copes by writing morbid children’s books. Her only ally is Dan, the burnt-out ex-homicide reporter who covered her case.
As Kirby closes in on her would-be killer, what she finds is … impossible. Murders scattered across the decades along with evidence that makes no sense.
Meanwhile, Harper is closing in on her too
Este libro no está disponible por el momento.
338 páginas impresas
Publicación original
2013
Año de publicación
2013
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Opiniones

  • Nikko777compartió su opiniónhace 2 años
    👍Me gustó
    🙈Ni fu ni fa
    🌴Perfecto para la playa
    🚀Adictivo

Citas

  • Soliloquios Literarioscompartió una citahace 6 años
    ‘Fine is the very definition of mediocrity. It’s what’s polite. It’s what’s socially acceptable. We need to live brighter and deeper than just fine, my darling!’
  • Soliloquios Literarioscompartió una citahace 6 años
    ‘So I can keep it?’
    ‘Of course you can. You can do almost anything you want. Especially with presents. Even break them into a million billion pieces
  • Belle Castillocompartió una citahace 8 años
    He clenches the orange plastic pony in the pocket of his sports coat. It is sweaty in his hand. Mid-summer here, too hot for what he’s wearing. But he has learned to put on a uniform for this purpose; jeans in particular. He takes long strides – a man who walks because he’s got somewhere to be, despite his gimpy foot. Harper Curtis is not a moocher. And time waits for no one. Except when it does.
    The girl is sitting cross-legged on the ground, her bare knees white and bony as birds’ skulls and grass-stained. She looks up at the sound of his boots scrunching on the gravel, but only long enough for him to see that her eyes are brown under that tangle of grubby curls, before she dismisses him and goes back to her business.
    Harper is disappointed. He had imagined, as he approached, that they might be blue; the color of the lake, deep out, where the shoreline disappears and it feels like you’re in the middle of the ocean. Brown is

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