By John Burgess
A poignant glimpse into the lifestyle of 12th Century Cambodia. need to know who have been the folk who equipped the temples, grew the rice and served within the palace defend? learn a girl of Angkor.
– sunrise Rooney, writer of Angkor – Cambodia’s Wondrous Khmer Temples
A superb and compelling tale that vividly inspires the dignity, violence, and sweetness of the vanished Khmer empire, as advised during the testimony of 1 amazing girl. this can be a actual page-turner of a story within which Burgess brings us into the damaging international of palace intrigues and into the lives of Angkor’s traditional people.
– Michael D. Coe, writer of Angkor and the Khmer Civilization
A lady of Angkor is a robust paintings of mind's eye that takes the reader to a far off time and position and makes the tale vividly genuine. in the course of the voice of his heroine, Sray, John Burgess conjures a narrative of a Khmer relations whose lives are interwoven with the construction of the paranormal, mysterious temple of Angkor Wat. this can be historic fiction with a distinction – a few humans whose heritage has been obscured and deserted just like the really good shrine that for therefore many centuries lay hidden within the jungle.
– David Ignatius, columnist for The Washington put up and writer of Bloodmoney
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Extra info for A Woman of Angkor
They’ve already been here digging. ” “You were in the Crosses last night. Come. ” “People survive. I’ve read about it. ” Kolya surveyed the wreckage. The wind whipped up miniature storms of concrete dust. “If anyone’s alive in there, you won’t be able to pull them out with your bare hands. And if you stay here all night trying, you won’t make it to morning. Come on. I have friends nearby. ” I shook my head. How could I abandon my home? “Lev . . I don’t need you to think right now. I just need you to follow me.
I couldn’t hear anything beyond the winter wind that seemed to come from every direction at once, gathering its strength over the Gulf of Finland and howling down all the side streets. I thought Kolya heard a shell coming our way and I looked skyward, as if I could spot our death winging toward us, as if I could dodge it if I had. The wind finally calmed, gasping more quietly now, a child at the end of his tantrum. Shells exploded to the south, several kilometers away from the sound of it, but close enough to make the pavement shudder beneath us.
Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said Kolya, smiling broadly. “No need for all the suspicion. A dozen eggs. ” “A thousand rubles? ” I laughed. ” The black-bearded giant, still holding the door open, glowered down at me. I stopped laughing. “They’re selling glasses of dirt back there for a hundred rubles,” he told me. ” “Listen,” said Kolya, “you can stand here all day haggling with my little Jewish friend, or we can talk like honest men. We have three hundred. That’s all we have. ” The giant continued to stare at me.
A Woman of Angkor by John Burgess