During a pleasant stay at a small hostel at the top of a steep hill, or possibly a small mountain in Sorrento, a young woman once discovered a bookshelf. At the top of this very low and wide bookshelf a sign was positioned. It said "Grab one and leave another behind". The young woman got curious, and stepped a bit closer. She let her eyes wander over the shelf, and it truly held books of all sizes and shapes. Some were small and dusty, abandoned rather than left for someone else's joy, others were tall and sparkling new, clearly left behind because the owner had had to free up space in his or her backpack (it was a backpacker's hostel). Some were in Italian, or Portuguese. A few were in German, but as it often is on these bookshelves, most were in English. Imagine her surprise when she came upon a torn, sad paperback that was in Swedish. How unusual, exotic almost! What on earth was that sad thing doing there? It was after all a small hostel, not ideally located there, far above the rest of the city, although the view was to die for. It is true sometimes, you know, what they say: no pain, no gain.As this particular novel was written in the unusual language 'Swedish', she had to pick it up. What did her fellow countryman, adventurous like her, enjoy to read? They had this hostel in common. Could they have more in common? Such as, their taste in books? So, she picked the sad little thing up. It had a few scars, but it wasn't sad, as she had thought at first. More like, well cared for during a harsh journey. The previous owner had taken good care of it. She read what was written about it on it's back and love was in the air; it sounded perfect. It also felt very good in her hand. If it feels like a book sort of belongs in your hand, you know you're in for good ride.She read the book a little here, a little there, a little everywhere. On the Circumvesuviana from Sorrento to Napoli, and on the train from Napoli to Roma. On the beach. In the bed at night. Sitting at the windowsill, enjoying that amazing view across the city and the turquoise sea that stretched out at its bottom. On the bus to Positano, although, just for a short while because that bus ride was devilishly nasty. Speeding heavily at narrow, winding mountain roads she felt as if they were going to fly for a bit in the sky before crashing into the mountain at just about every turn. She also felt like throwing up for most of the ride.She loved the book so much she didn't have a heart to leave it behind for somebody else to read when she left the next hostel. Instead she brought it along on her journey, and later, home with her. She lent it to her father, who had quit reading because he was too tired all the time. She thought it might encourage him to read again as it was of a historical nature, about a cathedral that existed for real in Barcelona. It painted an awfully beautiful and fascinating picture of then-Barcelona, and he loved all kinds of history.He loved the book, too.

No leí este libro, lo viví... fue mientras trabajaba en la galería de arte y en los ratos libres adelantaba mi lectura en plenas calles del Barrio Gótico. Una forma muy didáctica, interesante e inteligente de conocer historia sobre Cataluña. Al principio no quería animarme a leerlo porque creí que era una especie de Código Da Vinci, pero resulto ser una excelente adquisición. Tanto que me animé a cargar el tabique desde Barcelona hasta México!. Altamente recomendable... lo terminé de leer en una semana más o menos. (y justo el 4 de julio).

Mi puntuación es de tres estrellitas y media. Siendo la primera novela histórica de Falcones, es la segunda que yo le leo, porque empecé por su segunda, "La mano de Fátima". Y todo eso en el espacio de un año escaso. La verdad es que cansan ya un poco las más de 1600 páginas que he leído de ese autor, y pasará bastante tiempo antes de que agarre su tercera novela. A los autores hay que dejarlos en barbecho. En la variedad está el gusto.La calidad literaria me parece flojita y simplemente comercial. Los buenos son "mu, pero que mu buenos", y los malos... Chico, pues son malísimos.Lo que sí le reconozco a Falcones es una excelente labor de divulgación histórica entre los lectores profanos en la materia. Su documentación es rigurosa y no resulta fácil pillarle los sangrantes anacronismos que existen entre la pléyade de autorzuelos que buscan como garimpeiros fortuna en este género.

Historical fiction based in the fourteenth century Barcelona and surroundings as it follows the life Arnau in his fall from grace and the return to it. The book has this soapy quality which I enjoyed as a casual read. The historical background was more interesting. I have always had more fascination with the Moorish occupation of the Iberian peninsula and have never visited Barcelona even if this is a rather popular place to go to when you are Dutch. Which I think has a lot to do with the football club Barcelona and the successes it has had with Dutchmen.The building of the cathedral Sant Maria de la Mar was an interesting historical place to build a tale around in which shows life in medieval Spain/Europa and shows the power of the elite and the place where the worker is relegated to. Which is something like a subhuman place. The power of the Guilds through uniting the free workers. Society is really a place for the noblemen and their wimps and wishes. the book covers many other actual events: the wars, the result of the bubonic plague, treatment of women and Jews, all aspects of society in Barcelona during the 1300's are told about.The book was an example of successful historical fiction a nice blending of soap and history.Well worth your time if you can enjoy the genre.

Great book, couldn't put it down...