Marigold has always lived a solitary life at Cloud of Spruce. But with her vivid imagination and lively neighbors, she's never lacked for something to do. From her close friendship with imaginary friend Sylvia, to being mistaken for a dead girl, to dreaming of visiting far-off lands as a missionary, each and every of Marigold's adventures are different, spicy, and, as Marigold herself would say, „int'resting.”
Magic for Marigold 6 csillagozás
Eredeti megjelenés éve: 1929
Tagok ajánlása: Hány éves kortól ajánlod?
Enciklopédia 12
Szereplők népszerűség szerint
Edith Lesley · Klondike Lesley · Lorraine Lesley · Marian Blaisdell Lesley · Marigold Lesley · Mr. Abel Derusha
Helyszínek népszerűség szerint
Várólistára tette 6
Kívánságlistára tette 8
Kiemelt értékelések
Ez nagyon aranyos! Végig egy kislányról szól, aki a könyv végén csak 12 éves, és olyan bájos az egész! Kedvem lett lefordítani, hogy a lányom is olvashassa majd, ha annyi idős lesz, mint a főszereplő Marigold (nem hiszem, hogy addig megjelenne magyarul… nem sietik el ezeket sajnos). Csak az a baj, hogy 1. sose fordítottam még regényt, 2. tele van lefordíthatatlannak tűnő szójátékokkal.
Én is örülök, hogy az egész könyv Marigold gyerekkoráról szólt, Montgomery sokkal jobban tud gyerekekről írni, mint felnőttekről. Az egyetlen ami zavar, hogy mintha újra és újra ugyanazt a gyereket írná meg. Persze, máshogy néznek ki, kicsit más a családjuk, de nagyon hasonló dolgok történnek velük, és mindannyian ugyanúgy reagálnak. Ennek ellenére élveztem olvasni. A fél csillag levonás az egyformaságnak, és az utolsó fejezet üzenetének szól.
Népszerű idézetek
„What would women do if headaches had never been invented?” asked Old Grandmother. „It's the most convenient disease in the world. It can come on so suddenly--go so conveniently. And nobody can prove we haven't got it.”
CHAPTER I., What's in a Name?, 4
'Names have really nothing to do with romance' said Uncle Klon. 'The most thrilling and tragic love affair I ever knew was between a man named Silas Twingletoe and a woman named Kezia Birtwhistle. It's my opinion children shouldn't be named at all. They should be numbered until they're grown up, then choose their own names.'
CHAPTER I What’s in a Name? 3.
If you don't believe things you'll never have any fun. The more things you can believe the more interesting life is, as you say yourself. Too much incredulity makes it a poor thing.
CHAPTER V. The Door That Men Call Death, 4
It was an inflexible Cloud of Spruce tradition that there must always be cake in the pantry--fresh, flawless cake--lest unexpected company come to tea. No company had ever found Cloud of Spruce cakeless. Grandmother and Mother would both have died of horror on the spot if such a thing had happened. Kingdoms of Europe might rise and fall--famines might ravage India and revolutions sweep China--Liberals and Conservatives, Republicans and Democrats might crash down to defeat, but so long as cake-box and cooky-jar were filled there was balm in Gilead.
CHAPTER XVII Not by Bread Alone, 1
Marigold loved that hill road because it was full of rabbits. You could never go up it without seeing some of the darlings. There was room in Marigold's heart for all the rabbits of the world.
CHAPTER III. April Promise, 2
Marigold got up then and got into bed, having carefully placed her two shoes close together under the bed so that they wouldn't be lonesome. She did that every night. She couldn't have slept a wink if those shoes had been far apart, missing each other all night.
CHAPTER III. April Promise, 6
The Weed Man grinned at her over his shoulder.
'Here's the old Malloy place. Used to be a leprechaun living there--the Malloys brought him out from Ireland among their bits of furniture, 'twas said. Guess 'twas true. Never heard of any native leprechauns in Prince Edward Island.'
'What is a leprechaun?' asked Marigold who had a thrill at the name.
'A liddle dwarf fairy dressed in red with a peaky cap. If you could see him and keep on seeing him he'd lead you to a pot of buried gold.'
CHAPTER XII Marigold Entertains 2.
She loved October--loved it well in its first crimson pomp, when frosted leaves hung like a flame and the asters along the road were like pale purple songs; and even better in its later quiet of brown autumnal fields and the shadowy interfoldings of the hills over the bay; with its evenings full of the nice smell of burning leaves in Lazarre's bonfires and all its apples to be picked and stored in the apple-barn, until such time as it grew too cold and they must be put away in barrels in the cellar.
CHAPTER XIV Bitterness of Soul 1.
There was the entrancing pale gold of lemon lilies in the shadows under the lilac-trees, and the proud white iris was blooming all along the old brick walk worn smooth by the passing of many feet. Away far down Marigold knew the misty sea was lapping gladly on the windy sands of the dunes. Mr. Donkin’s dear little pasture-field, full of blue-eyed grass, with the birches all around it, was such a CONTENTED field. She had always envied Mr. Donkin that field.
CHAPTER III April Promise 1.
“Look at those hemlocks,” Uncle Klon had said once. “Don’t they look like a row of old-maid schoolteachers with their fingers up admonishing a class of naughty little boys.” Marigold always thought of them so after that and walked past them in real half-delicious fear. What if they should suddenly shake their fingers so at HER? She would die of it, she knew. But it WOULD be int’resting.
CHAPTER III April Promise 2.
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