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Christa Wolf

Cassandra

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Cassandra, daughter of the King of Troy, is endowed with the gift of prophecy but fated never to be believed. After ten years of war, Troy has fallen to the Greeks, and Cassandra is now a prisoner, shackled outside the gates of Agamemnon's Mycenae. Through memories of her childhood and reflections on the long years of conflict, Cassandra pieces together the fall of her city. From a woman living in an age of heroes, here is the untold personal story overshadowed by the battlefield triumphs of Achilles and Hector.

This stunning reimagining of the Trojan War is a rich and vivid portrayal of the great tragedy that continues to echo throughout history.

'A beautiful work.' —
Bettany Hughes
'
Cassandra is fierce and feverish poetry that engages with the ancient stories while also charting its own path. Filled with passionate and startling insight into human nature.' —
Madeline Miller, author of The Song of Achilles
'Christa Wolf wrote books that crossed and overcame the divide of East and West, books that have lasted: the great, allegorical novels.' —
Günter Grass
'A sensitive writer of the purest water — an East German Virginia Woolf.' —
Guardian
'One of the most prominent and controversial novelists of her generation.' —
New York Review of Books
This book is currently unavailable
381 printed pages
Copyright owner
Bookwire
Original publication
2013
Publication year
2013
Publisher
Daunt Books
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Quotes

  • Ivana Melgozahas quotedlast month
    It was for his sake, whom I hated, and for the sake of my father, whom I loved, that I had avoided screaming their state secret out loud. There was a grain of calculation in my self-renunciation. Eumelos saw through me. My father did not.
  • Ivana Melgozahas quoted5 hours ago
    One shouldn’t give up on anyone until he’s dead.’ I felt ashamed without being able to agree with him. As far as I could see, he had no dealings with the gods. But he believed in people. When it came to that, he was younger than all of us. It was at his place, under the changing foliage of the giant fig tree, that we began to live our life of freedom; in the middle of the war, completely unprotected, surrounded by an ever-growing horde of people armed to the teeth.
  • Ivana Melgozahas quoted21 hours ago
    He knew everything there was to know about wood and trees. And the figures he carved when we sat around together, he then gave away like a prize; they became a sign by which we could recognise each other.

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