Summary 'It's not just Murakami but also the shadow of Borges that hovers over this mesmerizing book. [and] one may detect a slight bow to the American macabre of E.A. Ogawa stands on the shoulders of giants, as another saying goes. But this collection may linger in your mind -- it does in mine -- as a delicious, perplexing, absorbing and somehow singular experience.' -- Alan Cheuse, NPR Sinister forces collide---and unite a host of desperate characters---in this eerie cycle of interwoven tales from Yoko Ogawa, the critically acclaimed author of The Housekeeper and the Professor. An aspiring writer moves into a new apartment and discovers that her landlady has murdered her husband.

Elsewhere, an accomplished surgeon is approached by a cabaret singer, whose beautiful appearance belies the grotesque condition of her heart. And while the surgeon's jealous lover vows to kill him, a violent envy also stirs in the soul of a lonely craftsman. Desire meets with impulse and erupts, attracting the attention of the surgeon's neighbor---who is drawn to a decaying residence that is now home to instruments of human torture. Murderers and mourners, mothers and children, lovers and innocent bystanders---their fates converge in an ominous and darkly beautiful web. Yoko Ogawa's Revenge is a master class in the macabre that will haunt you to the last page. An NPR Best Book of 2013. Copyright AFTERNOON AT THE BAKERY It was a beautiful Sunday.

Yoko Ogawa's Revenge is a master class in the macabre that will haunt you to the last page. Download the free Scribd mobile app to read anytime, anywhere. Revenge Yoko Ogawa Author Kaleo Griffith Narrator (2013) Revenge Yoko Ogawa Author Stephen Snyder Translator (2013) The Housekeeper and the. Yoko Ogawa Author Stephen Snyder Translator (2009) The Diving Pool Yoko Ogawa Author Stephen Snyder Translator (2008) The Diving Pool.

The sky was a cloudless dome of sunlight. Out on the square, leaves fluttered in a gentle breeze along the pavement. Everything seemed to glimmer with a faint luminescence: the roof of the ice-cream stand, the faucet on the drinking fountain, the eyes of a stray cat, even the base of the clock tower covered with pigeon droppings. Families and tourists strolled through the square, enjoying the weekend.

Squeaky sounds could be heard from a man off in the corner, who was twisting balloon animals. Sistem informasi akademik unsoed. A circle of children watched him, entranced.

Nearby, a woman sat on a bench knitting. Somewhere a horn sounded. A flock of pigeons burst into the air, and startled a baby who began to cry. The mother hurried over to gather the child in her arms.

You could gaze at this perfect picture all day—an afternoon bathed in light and comfort—and perhaps never notice a single detail out of place, or missing. * * * As I pushed through the revolving door of the bakery and walked inside, the noise of the square was instantly muffled, and replaced by the sweet scent of vanilla. The shop was empty. Excuse me, I called hesitantly. There was no reply, so I decided to sit down on a stool in the corner and wait. It was my first time in the bakery, a neat, clean, modest little shop.