{"product_id":"the-night-circus-isbn-9780307744432","title":"The Night Circus","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLER \u003c\/b\u003e• Two starcrossed magicians engage in a deadly game of cunning in the spellbinding novel that captured the world's imagination. \u003cb\u003e•\u003c\/b\u003e \"Part love story, part fable ... defies both genres and expectations.\" —\u003ci\u003eThe Boston Globe\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eThe circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called \u003ci\u003eLe Cirque des Rêves\u003c\/i\u003e, and it is only open at night. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway: a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them both, this is a game in which only one can be left standing. Despite the high stakes, Celia and Marco soon tumble headfirst into love, setting off a domino effect of dangerous consequences, and leaving the lives of everyone, from the performers to the patrons, hanging in the balance.“Magical. Enchanting. Spellbinding. Mesmerizing.” —Associated Press \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Erin Morgenstern has created the circus I have always longed for and she has populated it with dueling love-struck magicians, precocious kittens, hyper-elegant displays of beauty and complicated clocks. This is a marvelous book.” —Audrey Niffenegger, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Time Traveler’s Wife\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Get ready to be won over. . . . Part love story, part fable, and a knockout debut. . . . So sparklingly alive, you’ll swear the pages are breathing in your hands. . . . \u003ci\u003eThe Night Circus\u003c\/i\u003e defies both genres and expectations.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Boston Globe \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A riveting debut. \u003ci\u003eThe Night Circus \u003c\/i\u003epulls you into a world as dark as it is dazzling, fully-realized but still something out of a dream. You will not want to leave it.” —Téa Obreht, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Tiger’s Wife\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eThe Night Circus\u003c\/i\u003e is the real deal, the kind of novel that will appeal to romantics, history buff, circus aficionados, mystery fans, and lovers of a good story. . . . Steeped in circus lore, filled with evocative scenes of magic and illusion, enriched by characters as varied as the clockmaker who crafted the circus’s iconic timepiece . . . \u003ci\u003eThe Night Circus \u003c\/i\u003eis worth staying up for.” —\u003ci\u003eBookreporter \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One of the best books I have ever read.”  —Brunonia Barry, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Lace Reader\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“[A] few pages in . . . and you know you are in the presence of an extraordinary storyteller.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Daily Beast\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Echoing the immense pleasure of Susanna Clarke’s \u003ci\u003eJonathan Strange \u0026amp; Mr. Norrell\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Night Circus \u003c\/i\u003epresents a sprightly version of 19th-century English magic. . . . A love story for adults that feels luxuriously romantic.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Dark and extravagantly imagined.” —\u003ci\u003ePeople \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Pure pleasure. . . . Erin Morgenstern is a gifted, classic storyteller, a tale-teller, a spinner of the charmed and mesmerizing—I had many other things I was supposed to be doing, but the book kept drawing me back in and I tore through it. You can be certain this riveting debut will create a group of rêveurs all its own.” —Aimee Bender, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Morgenstern] employs her supple prose to conjure up a series of wonders: A maze made of clouds, a ship of books floating on a sea of ink, a tent that seems to contain a vast desert.” —\u003ci\u003eSalon\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Reading this novel is like having a marvelous dream, in which you are asleep enough to believe everything that is happening, but awake enough to relish the experience and understand that it is magical.” —\u003ci\u003eNewsday\u003c\/i\u003eERIN MORGENSTERN is the author of \u003ci\u003eThe Night Circus, \u003c\/i\u003ea number-one national best seller that has been sold around the world and translated into thirty-seven languages. She has a degree in theater from Smith College and lives in Massachusetts.\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eANTICIPATION\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThe circus arrives without warning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo announcements precede it, no paper notices on downtown posts and billboards, no mentions or advertisements in local newspapers. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe towering tents are striped in white and black, no golds and crimsons to be seen. No color at all, save for the neighboring trees and the grass of the surrounding fields. Black-and-white stripes on grey sky; countless tents of varying shapes and sizes, with an elaborate wrought-iron fence encasing them in a colorless world. Even what little ground is visible from outside is black or white, painted or powdered, or treated with some other circus trick.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut it is not open for business. Not just yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWithin hours everyone in town has heard about it. By afternoon the news has spread several towns over. Word of mouth is a more effective method of advertisement than typeset words and exclamation points on paper pamphlets or posters. It is impressive and unusual news, the sudden appearance of a mysterious circus. People marvel at the staggering height of the tallest tents. They stare at the clock that sits just inside the gates that no one can properly describe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd the black sign painted in white letters that hangs upon the gates, the one that reads:\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eOpens at Nightfall\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eCloses at Dawn\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“What kind of circus is only open at night?” people ask. No one has a proper answer, yet as dusk approaches there is a substantial crowd of spectators gathering outside the gates.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou are amongst them, of course. Your curiosity got the better of you, as curiosity is wont to do. You stand in the fading light, the scarf around your neck pulled up against the chilly evening breeze, waiting to see for yourself exactly what kind of circus only opens once the sun sets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe ticket booth clearly visible behind the gates is closed and barred. The tents are still, save for when they ripple ever so slightly in the wind. The only movement within the circus is the clock that ticks by the passing minutes, if such a wonder of sculpture can even be called a clock.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe circus looks abandoned and empty. But you think perhaps you can smell caramel wafting through the evening breeze, beneath the crisp scent of the autumn leaves. A subtle sweetness at the edges of the cold.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe sun disappears completely beyond the horizon, and the remaining luminosity shifts from dusk to twilight. The people around you are growing restless from waiting, a sea of shuffling feet, murmuring about abandoning the endeavor in search of someplace warmer to pass the evening. You yourself are debating departing when it happens.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFirst, there is a popping sound. It is barely audible over the wind and conversation. A soft noise like a kettle about to boil for tea. Then comes the light.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll over the tents, small lights begin to flicker, as though the entirety of the circus is covered in particularly bright fireflies. The waiting crowd quiets as it watches this display of illumination. Someone near you gasps. A small child claps his hands with glee at the sight.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen the tents are all aglow, sparkling against the night sky, the sign appears. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStretched across the top of the gates, hidden in curls of iron, more firefly-like lights flicker to life. They pop as they brighten, some accompanied by a shower of glowing white sparks and a bit of smoke. The people nearest to the gates take a few steps back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt first, it is only a random pattern of lights. But as more of them ignite, it becomes clear that they are aligned in scripted letters. First a \u003ci\u003eC \u003c\/i\u003eis distinguishable, followed by more letters. A \u003ci\u003eq\u003c\/i\u003e, oddly, and several \u003ci\u003ee\u003c\/i\u003e’s. When the final bulb pops alight, and the smoke and sparks dissipate, it is finally legible, this elaborate incandescent sign. Leaning to your left to gain a better view, you can see that it reads:\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eLe Cirque des Rêves\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eSome in the crowd smile knowingly, while others frown and look questioningly at their neighbors. A child near you tugs on her mother’s sleeve, begging to know what it says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The Circus of Dreams,” comes the reply. The girl smiles delightedly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen the iron gates shudder and unlock, seemingly by their own volition. They swing outward, inviting the crowd inside.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow the circus is open.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow you may enter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePART I\u003ci\u003e: \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePrimordium\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The Whole of Le Cirque des Rêves is formed by a series of circles. Perhaps it is a tribute to the origin of the word 'circus,' deriving from the Greek \u003ci\u003ekirkos\u003c\/i\u003e meaning circle, or ring. There are many such nods to the phenomenon of the circus in a historical sense, though it is hardly a traditional circus. Rather than a single tent with rings enclosed within, this circus contains clusters of tents like pyramids, some large and others quite small. They are set within circular paths, contained within a circular fence. Looping and continuous.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e--Friedrick Thiessen, 1892\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moon-light, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e--Oscar Wilde, 1888\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eUNEXPECTED POST\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNew York, February 1873\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe man billed as Prospero the Enchanter receives a fair amount of correspondence via the theater office, but this is the first envelope addressed to him that contains a suicide note, and it is also the first to arrive carefully pinned to the coat of a five-year-old girl.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe lawyer who escorts her to the theater refuses to explain despite the manager’s protestations, abandoning her as quickly as he can with no more than a shrug and the tip of a hat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe theater manager does not need to read the envelope to know who the girl is for. The bright eyes peering out from under a cloud of unruly brown curls are smaller, wider versions of the magician’s own.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe takes her by the hand, her small fingers hanging limp within his. She refuses to remove her coat despite the warmth of the theater, giving only an adamant shake of her head when he asks her why.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe manager takes the girl to his office, not knowing what else to do with her. She sits quietly on an uncomfortable chair beneath a line of framed posters advertising past productions, surrounded by boxes of tickets and receipts. The manager brings her a cup of tea with an extra lump of sugar, but it remains on the desk, untouched, and grows cold.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe girl does not move, does not fidget in her seat. She stays perfectly still with her hands folded in her lap. Her gaze is fixed downward, focused on her boots that do not quite touch the floor. There is a small scuff on one toe, but the laces are knotted in perfect bows.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe sealed envelope hangs from the second topmost button of her coat, until Prospero arrives.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe hears him before the door opens, his footsteps heavy and echoing in the hall, unlike the measured pace of the manager who has come and gone several times, quiet as a cat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“There is also a . . . package for you, sir,” the manager says as he opens the door, ushering the magician into the cramped office before slipping off to attend to other theater matters, having no desire to witness what might become of this encounter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe magician scans the office, a stack of letters in one hand, a black velvet cape lined with shockingly white silk cascading behind him, expecting a paper-wrapped box or crate. Only when the girl looks up at him with his own eyes does he realize what the theater manager was referring to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eProspero the Enchanter’s immediate reaction upon meeting his daughter is a simple declaration of: “Well, fuck.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe girl returns her attention to her boots.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe magician closes the door behind him, dropping the stack of letters on the desk next to the teacup as he looks at the girl.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe rips the envelope from her coat, leaving the pin clinging steadfastly to its button.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhile the writing on the front bears his stage name and the theater address, the letter inside greets him with his given name, Hector Bowen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe skims over the contents, any emotional impact desired by the author failing miserably and finally. He pauses at the only fact he deems relevant: that this girl now left in his custody is, obviously, his own daughter and that her name is Celia.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“She should have named you Miranda,” the man called Prospero the Enchanter says to the girl with a chuckle. “I suppose she was not clever enough to think of it.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe girl looks up at him again. Dark eyes narrow beneath her curls.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe teacup on the desk begins to shake. Ripples disrupt the calm surface as cracks tremble across the glaze, and then it collapses in shards of flowered porcelain. Cold tea pools in the saucer and drips onto the floor, leaving sticky trails along the polished wood.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe magician’s smile vanishes. He glances back at the desk with a frown, and the spilled tea begins seeping back up from the floor. The cracked and broken pieces stand and re-form themselves around the liquid until the cup sits complete once more, soft swirls of steam rising into the air.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe girl stares at the teacup, her eyes wide.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHector Bowen takes his daughter’s face in his gloved hand, scrutinizing her expression for a moment before releasing her, his fingers leaving long red marks across her cheeks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You might be interesting,” he says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe girl does not reply.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe makes several attempts to rename her in the following weeks, but she refuses to respond to anything but Celia.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e                                                                           *\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeveral months later, once he decides she is ready, the magician writes a letter of his own. He includes no address, but it reaches its destination across the ocean nonetheless.A Novel","brand":"Vintage","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300320399589,"sku":"NP9780307744432","price":19.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780307744432.jpg?v=1767740715","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-night-circus-isbn-9780307744432","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}