Victoria Hislop
Victoria Hislop read English at Oxford, and worked in publishing, PR and as a journalist before becoming a novelist. She is married with two children.
Her first novel, The Island, held the number one slot in the Sunday Times paperback charts for eight consecutive weeks and has sold over two million copies worldwide. Victoria was the Newcomer of the Year at the Galaxy British Book Awards 2007 and won the Richard & Judy Summer Read competition.
Her second novel, The Return, was also a Sunday Times number one bestseller, and her books have been translated into more than twenty languages. A short story collection, One Cretan Evening, was published in September and both a third novel, The Thread is published in English in October and in Greek in November 2011.
“De siste ti årene hadde Hellas opplevd minst et dusin statskupp og nesten dobbelt så mange regjeringer, og pendelen hadde fortsat å svinge mellom tilhengere og motstandere av monarkiet. Monarkiets være eller ikke være var et evig tema for stridigheter og debatt i Hellas. I 1920, da kong Alexander døde av et apebitt, vendte faren hans hjem fra eksil, bare for å bli kastet ut av landet igjen to år senere. Han ble erstattet av sin eldste sønn, Georg, som i sin tur måtte tre av mot slutten av det neste året. Kong Georg hadde levd i eksil i nesten tolv år da han kunne vende tilbake til tronen etter en manipulert folkeavstemning.”
“The parrot had a range of phrases. His own name ('Niko, Niko'), the name of his original owner and now 'Stavros'. Occasionally he would also say 'Panagia mou', which could be an expression of piety but also a gentle expletive, depending on how it was said. With the parrot it was hard to tell. It did not sound pious.”
“After the endless disappointing cups of Nescafé, served as though the tasteless dissolving granules of instant coffee were a delicacy, Alexis felt no cup of coffee had ever tasted as powerful and delicious as this. It seemed that nobody had the heart to tell the Greeks that Nescafé was no longer a novelty – it was this old-fashioned thick and treacly fluid that everyone, including her, craved.”
“They wound their way through a labyrinth of streets, partly following their noses, partly the orientation of the map. Jardines, Mirasol, Cruz, Puentezuelas, Capuchinas...Each word held its magic. They were like brushstrokes painting the landscape of the city, each one helping to build up a picture of the whole.”
“The sun rose, the moon saturated the night sky with its silver light and the stars blazed, indifferent to the events happening below them.”