
Iain M. Banks
"When it was over, and the last notes died, finally giving themselves up to the air, to the flesh of her fingertips and to the ancient wood of the instrument, she kept her eyes closed for a time, still in her deep red cave of heartache and loss. There were strange patterns behind her eyelids, swimming and pulsing to the strong beat of her blood. The music seemed to have set them into a theme of movement of its own, and they were only now unravelling into their natural semi-chaos. She watched them.'" "Hisako Onoda, …
Not generated yet
No audience brief for this book yet — who it lands for, who tends to bounce off it, and how it reads.
Catalogue warming up
Not enough scored books nearby to match this one yet. Matches appear as the catalogue fills in.