By Neil Gaiman
Selected as certainly one of NPR’s most sensible a hundred technology Fiction and myth Books of All Time
The no 1 New York Times bestselling author’s final variation of his wildly winning first novel that includes his “preferred text”—and together with his new Neverwhere story, “How the Marquis received His Coat Back.”
Richard Mayhew is a tender guy with an outstanding middle and a normal lifestyles, that's replaced endlessly whilst he stops to aid a lady he unearths bleeding on a London sidewalk. His small act of kindness propels him right into a global he by no means dreamed existed. There are those that fall throughout the cracks, and Richard has turn into one among them. And he needs to discover ways to continue to exist during this urban of shadows and darkness, monsters and saints, murderers and angels, if he's ever to come to the London that he knew.
“A terrific tale that's either the stuff of goals and nightmares” (San Diego Union-Tribune), Neil Gaiman’s first solo novel has develop into a touchstone of city fable, and a perennial favourite of readers everywhere.
“Delightful … inventively horrific.”
Preview of Neverwhere: Author's Preferred Text PDF
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Additional resources for Neverwhere: Author's Preferred Text
Richard heard a high-pitched voice laughing, as he crawled, and he questioned who it will probably belong to. It used to be a worrying snort, nasty and weird. He puzzled what demeanour of loopy individual might snicker like that. He swallowed, and the laughing stopped, after which he knew. He was once nearly on the fringe of the platform. An aged girl stepped onto the teach, and as she did so, her foot knocked the purple-haired troll down into the darkness, down into the space among the educate and the platform. “No,” acknowledged Richard. He was once nonetheless guffawing, a clumsy, wheezing chuckle, yet tears stung his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He rubbed his eyes along with his fingers, making them sting much more. Flash. The platform was once abandoned and darkish back. He climbed to his toes and walked, unsteadily, the previous few toes, to the sting of the platform. He may well see it there, down at the tracks, via the 3rd rail: a small splash of pink, his troll. He seemed sooner than him: there have been huge, immense posters caught to the wall at the different facet of the tracks. The posters marketed charge cards and activities sneakers and vacation trips in Cyprus. As he seemed the phrases at the posters twisted and mutated. New messages: finish all of it used to be one in all them. placed your self from your distress. BE A MAN—DO your self IN. HAVE A deadly coincidence at the present time. He nodded. He used to be speaking to himself. The posters didn't particularly say that. sure, he used to be speaking to himself; and it was once time that he listened. He may perhaps pay attention the damn of a teach, round the corner, coming towards the station. Richard clenched his enamel, and swayed from side to side, as though he have been nonetheless being buffeted through commuters, even if he used to be by myself at the platform. The educate was once coming towards him, its headlights shining out from the tunnel just like the eyes of a sizeable dragon in a early life nightmare. And he understood then simply how little attempt it's going to take to make the discomfort stop—to take all of the discomfort he ever had had, all of the discomfort he ever might have, and make all of it leave with no end in sight. He driven his palms deep into his wallet, and took a deep breath. it'd be really easy. A second of discomfort, after which it should all be over and performed . . . there has been anything in his pocket. He felt it along with his palms: anything delicate and tough and approximately round. He pulled it out of his pocket, and tested it: a quartz bead. He remembered identifying it up, then. He were at the a long way part of Night’s Bridge. The bead have been a part of Anaesthesia’s necklace. And from someplace, in his head or out of it, he inspiration he heard the rat-girl say, “Richard. carry on. ” He didn't be aware of if there has been someone supporting him at that second. He suspected that he was once, really, speaking to himself. That this used to be the genuine him talking, and he was once, eventually, listening. He nodded and positioned the bead again into his pocket. And he stood at the platform and waited for the educate to come back in. It arrived on the platform, slowed, got here to a whole cease. The teach doorways hissed open. The carriage was once full of each demeanour and type of individuals, all of whom have been, unmistakably, fairly lifeless. there have been clean corpses, with ragged cuts of their throats or bullet holes of their temples.