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The Last Man Standing - Couverture rigide

Longo, Davide

 
9781623650346: The Last Man Standing

Synopsis

Book by Longo Davide

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Revue de presse

"The story in The Last Man Standing might sound familiar, if it weren't for the fact that Davide Longo has written it better than anyone else." —Daria Bignardi, Vanity Fair

"A bleak, lyrical tale that evokes Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. . . . Gruesome, intense, and strange . . . a eruozone nightmare brought to life on the page." —James Lovegrove, Financial Times

"A wealth of imagery carries the reader through scenes of torture and youthful atrocities along a landscape as stark as Comac McCarthy's The Road. But those who stick with Leonardo will be rewarded."—Library Journal

“A searing, dystopian parable . . . [A] remarkable book . . . Longo's characters get in touch with the basest parts of themselves in order to preserve what is denigrated as “the most arid.” . . . Visceral and gripping.” —Kirkus Reviews (starred)

"A novel in which precision of language is as crucial an element as the steadily accelerating tension." —Barry Forshaw, The Independent
 
“A powerful insight into the most primal corners of the human psyche. Longo is a superb writer and every sentence drips intelligence and humanity . . . The Last Man Standing is set to be one of the best novels of the year.” —Damien Walter, SFX
 
“A complex and compelling investigation of the behavior of survival.” —Times Literary Supplement

"With mesmerizing control of language, Longo weaves a tale that will leave readers with much to think about long after they have put it down.”—The Irish Examiner

“Beautifully written, totally plausible interpretation of a dystopian, economically and politically bereft Europe 13 years in the future, as seen through the eyes and experiences of a disgraced leader of social conscience.” —We Love this Book
 
“With mesmerizing control of language, Longo weaves a tale that will leave readers with much to think about long after they have put it down.” —Bridlington Free Press

Extrait

It was not the sharp pain that woke Leonardo, but the sound of his nose being broken: a clean snap without an echo, like a stick breaking. Stunned, he opened his eyes, but barely had time to recognize the leaden first light of daybreak between the branches before something hard and hollow hit him on the cheekbone. As he sank into darkness he heard Lucia cry out. Opening his left eye, he saw her on all fours being dragged along by a man with an antique-looking rifle in his free hand.

“Lucia!” he tried to yell, but blood filled his mouth and turned her name into an incomprehensible choking sound. Then someone grabbed him by the collar. He kicked out in an effort to break free, but with the speed of someone who has done nothing else all his life, the man tied his head against the tree behind him with two turns of wire, forced his arms behind his back and bound his wrists together. Leonardo felt his shoulder pop out of joint. He shrieked. Someone kicked him in the mouth, breaking several teeth.

When he opened his eyes again, a youth with blond hair was crouching beside him, his face a few centimeters from Leonardo’s. His hair was divided by a central parting and he had the nut-colored eyes of a young dog. Two glossy black marks on his cheeks looked as if they had been made with pitch or tempera. He had no eyebrows.

Leonardo began to say something, but the boy was too quick for him.

“Take it easy,” he said in a friendly voice.

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