The Prisoner of Heaven by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

A short existence of contentment takes me over each time I finish a book. But a few minutes ago, that short occurence lasted about ten minutes of lying on my bed and reflecting the flow of the story from the first book, The Shadow of the Wind, until the third book, The Prisoner of Heaven.

I have always thought that the whole process of reading will be defined by how we fall in love with the characters. The Prisoner of Heaven may have unintentionally proved me wrong. With each page turned, I feel the affection I have for Daniel Sempere and Fermin Romerro de Torres (the main characters in The Angel's Game and The Prisoner of Heaven) begins to inflate and expanded into love and admiration for their creators. It was like the tranquil state when you realize your satisfaction of life and how you love God for have created yours.

Although The Prisoner of Heaven will not be the last book, as Carlos have explained it in the perfectly mastered epilogue, in the whole process of reading it, I have been persuaded that it may be the last. And so I treasured the plot and story even more. The reason for it was probably because Fermin told Daniel a story that will take a great part in the pinnacles of the whole story within the three books. The story isn't just any story, it was a secret and long hidden from Daniel because it may lead Daniel to a very dangerous and sinister man of David Martin's life.

I will not tell you any further than that. I concluded that Carlos Ruiz Zafon have once again created a book with depth, authentic characters, and a convolutod plot that intertwines but magically fits with each other like a puzzle in the end. And as much as I love Austen or John Green, but I can now consider Carlos as my mentor author. He narrates in the most beautiful and witty way that intrigues you to feel the emotion, sensation, and even the weather in a story.
“The sea breeze rises through the gravestones and the breath of a curse caresses his face. He puts the piece of paper in his pocket. Shortly afterwards, he places a white rose on the tombstone and then retraces his steps, carrying the boy in his arms, towards the avenue of cypress trees where the mother of his son is waiting. All three melt into an embrace and when she looks into his eyes she discovers something that was not in them a few moments ago. Something turbulent and dark that frightens her.” p. 278, The Prisoner of Heaven by Carlos Ruiz Zafon


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