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Overview

Il Papa è morto. Dietro le porte chiuse della Cappella Sistina, in completo isolamento, centodiciotto cardinali provenienti da ogni parte del pianeta sono pronti a votare in quella che è l'elezione più segreta del mondo. Sono uomini santi. Ma hanno le loro ambizioni. E hanno tutti dei rivali.

Nel corso di settantadue ore uno di loro diventerà la figura spirituale più potente della Terra.

Robert Harris, "il maestro dell'intelligent thriller", come è stato definito dal "Times", permette ai lettori di questo straordinario romanzo di entrare nell'universo impenetrabile e segreto del Vaticano, in cui le regole sono sostanzialmente immutate da secoli, creando una storia avvincente che si immerge con inquietante puntualità nei grandi temi che attraversano la società contemporanea.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9788852076763
Publisher: MONDADORI
Publication date: 10/04/2016
Sold by: ARNOLDO MONDADORI - EBKS
Format: eBook
File size: 891 KB
Language: Italian

About the Author

About The Author
ROBERT HARRIS is the author of ten best-selling novels: Fatherland, Enigma, Archangel, Pompeii, Imperium, The Ghost Writer, Conspirata, The Fear Index, An Officer and a Spy, and Dictator. Several of his books have been adapted to film, most recently The Ghost Writer, directed by Roman Polanski. His work has been translated into thirty-seven languages. He lives in the village of Kintbury, England, with his wife, Gill Hornby.

Read an Excerpt

Copyright  © 2016 Robert Harris
At 6:30 a.m., the alarm sounded throughout the Casa Santa Marta—a clanging seminary bell. Lomeli opened his eyes. He was curled up on his side. He felt groggy, raw. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, only that it couldn’t have been for more than an hour or two. The sudden remembrance of all he had to do in the coming day passed over him like a wave of nausea, and for a while he lay unable to move. Normally his waking routine was to meditate for fifteen minutes then rise and say his morning prayers. But on this occasion, when at last he managed to summon the will to put his feet to the floor, he went directly into the bathroom and ran a shower as hot as he could bear. The water scourged his back and shoulders. He twisted and turned beneath it and cried out in pain. Afterwards he rubbed away the moisture on the mirror and surveyed with disgust his raw and scalded skin. My body is clay, my good fame a vapour, my end is ashes.
Zanetti stood in front of him and reached up to place upon his head the tall mitre of white watered silk. The priest stepped back a pace to check it was correctly aligned, squinted, came forward again and altered it by a millimetre, then walked behind Lomeli and tugged down the ribbons at the back and smoothed them. It felt alarmingly precarious. Finally he gave him the crozier. Lomeli lifted the golden shepherd’s crook a couple of times in his left hand, testing the weight. You are not a shepherd, a familiar voice whispered in his head. You are a manager. He had a sudden urge to give it back, to tear off the vestments, to confess himself a fraud and disappear. He smiled and nodded. “It feels good,” he said. “Thank you.”
Excerpted from Conclave by Robert Harris. Copyright © 2016 by Robert Harris. Excerpted by permission of Knopf. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.


(Continues…)


Excerpted from "Conclave"
by .
Copyright © 2016 Robert Harris.
Excerpted by permission of Diversified Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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