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The Shadow of the Wind Paperback – Illustrated, February 1, 2005
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“The Shadow of the Wind is ultimately a love letter to literature, intended for readers as passionate about storytelling as its young hero.” —Entertainment Weekly (Editor's Choice)
“One gorgeous read.” —Stephen King
Barcelona, 1945: A city slowly heals in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, and Daniel, an antiquarian book dealer’s son who mourns the loss of his mother, finds solace in a mysterious book entitled The Shadow of the Wind, by one Julián Carax. But when he sets out to find the author’s other works, he makes a shocking discovery: someone has been systematically destroying every copy of every book Carax has written. In fact, Daniel may have the last of Carax’s books in existence. Soon Daniel’s seemingly innocent quest opens a door into one of Barcelona’s darkest secrets—an epic story of murder, madness, and doomed love.
- Print length487 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherPenguin Books
- Publication dateFebruary 1, 2005
- Dimensions5.5 x 1.1 x 8.42 inches
- ISBN-100143034901
- ISBN-13978-0143034902
- Lexile measure990L
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“Gabriel Garcia Marquez meets Umberto Eco meets Jorge Luis Borges for a sprawling magic show.” —The New York Times Book Review
“Wonderous . . . masterful . . . The Shadow of the Wind is ultimately a love letter to literature, intended for readers as passionate about storytelling as its young hero.” —Entertainment Weekly (Editor's Choice)
“One gorgeous read.” —Stephen King
"The Shadow of the Wind will keep you up nights—and it'll be time well spent. Absolutely marvelous." —Kirkus(starred review)
About the Author
Lucia Graves is the author and translator of many works and has overseen Spanish-language editions of the poetry of her father, Robert Graves.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
"It says here that this copy is part of an edition of twenty-five hundred printed in Barcelona by Cabestany Editores, in June 1936."
"Do you know the publishing house?"
"It closed down years ago. But, wait, this is not the original. The first edition came out in November 1935 but was printed in Paris....Published by Galiano & Neuval. Doesn't ring a bell."
"So is this a translation?"
"It doesn't say so. From what I can see, the text must be the original one."
"A book in Spanish, first published in France?"
"It's not that unusual, not in times like these," my father put in. "Perhaps Barceló can help us...."
Gustavo Barceló was an old colleague of my father's who now owned a cavernous establishment on Calle Fernando with a commanding position in the city's secondhand-book trade. Perpetually affixed to his mouth was an unlit pipe that impregnated his person with the aroma of a Persian market. He liked to describe himself as the last romantic, and he was not above claiming that a remote line in his ancestry led directly to Lord Byron himself. As if to prove this connection, Barceló fashioned his wardrobe in the style of a nineteenth-century dandy. His casual attire consisted of a cravat, white patent leather shoes, and a plain glass monocle that, according to malicious gossip, he did not remove even in the intimacy of the lavatory. Flights of fancy aside, the most significant relative in his lineage was his begetter, an industrialist who had become fabulously wealthy by questionable means at the end of the nineteenth century. According to my father, Gustavo Barceló was, technically speaking, loaded, and his palatial bookshop was more of a passion than a business. He loved books unreservedly, and-although he denied this categorically-if someone stepped into his bookshop and fell in love with a tome he could not afford, Barceló would lower its price, or even give it away, if he felt that the buyer was a serious reader and not an accidental browser. Barceló also boasted an elephantine memory allied to a pedantry that matched his demeanor and the sonority of his voice. If anyone knew about odd books, it was he. That afternoon, after closing the shop, my father suggested that we stroll along to the Els Quatre Gats, a café on Calle Montsió, where Barceló and his bibliophile knights of the round table gathered to discuss the finer points of decadent poets, dead languages, and neglected, moth-ridden masterpieces.
Els Quatre Gats was just a five-minute walk from our house and one of my favorite haunts. My parents had met there in 1932, and I attributed my one-way ticket into this world in part to the old café's charms. Stone dragons guarded a lamplit façade anchored in shadows. Inside, voices seemed shaded by the echoes of other times. Accountants, dreamers, and would-be geniuses shared tables with the specters of Pablo Picasso, Isaac Albéniz, Federico García Lorca, and Salvador Dalí. There any poor devil could pass for a historical figure for the price of a small coffee.
"Sempere, old man," proclaimed Barceló when he saw my father come in. "Hail the prodigal son. To what do we owe the honor?"
"You owe the honor to my son, Daniel, Don Gustavo. He's just made a discovery."
"Well, then, pray come and sit down with us, for we must celebrate this ephemeral event," he announced.
"Ephemeral?" I whispered to my father.
"Barceló can express himself only in frilly words," my father whispered back. "Don't say anything, or he'll get carried away."
The lesser members of the coterie made room for us in their circle, and Barceló, who enjoyed flaunting his generosity in public, insisted on treating us.
"How old is the lad?" inquired Barceló, inspecting me out of the corner of his eye.
"Almost eleven," I announced.
Barceló flashed a sly smile.
"In other words, ten. Don't add on any years, you rascal. Life will see to that without your help."
A few of his chums grumbled in assent. Barceló signaled to a waiter of such remarkable decrepitude that he looked as if he should be declared a national landmark.
"A cognac for my friend Sempere, from the good bottle, and a cinnamon milk shake for the young one-he's a growing boy. Ah, and bring us some bits of ham, but spare us the delicacies you brought us earlier, eh? If we fancy rubber, we'll call for Pirelli tires."
The waiter nodded and left, dragging his feet.
"I hate to bring up the subject," Barceló said, "but how can there be jobs? In this country nobody ever retires, not even after they're dead. Just look at El Cid. I tell you, we're a hopeless case."
He sucked on his cold pipe, eyes already scanning the book in my hands. Despite his pretentious façade and his verbosity, Barceló could smell good prey the way a wolf scents blood.
"Let me see," he said, feigning disinterest. "What have we here?"
I glanced at my father. He nodded approvingly. Without further ado, I handed Barceló the book. The bookseller greeted it with expert hands. His pianist's fingers quickly explored its texture, consistency, and condition. He located the page with the publication and printer's notices and studied it with Holmesian flair. The rest watched in silence, as if awaiting a miracle, or permission to breathe again.
"Carax. Interesting," he murmured in an inscrutable tone.
I held out my hand to recover the book. Barceló arched his eyebrows but gave it back with an icy smile.
"Where did you find it, young man?"
"It's a secret," I answered, knowing that my father would be smiling to himself. Barceló frowned and looked at my father. "Sempere, my dearest old friend, because it's you and because of the high esteem I hold you in, and in honor of the long and profound friendship that unites us like brothers, let's call it at forty duros, end of story."
"You'll have to discuss that with my son," my father pointed out. "The book is his."
Barceló granted me a wolfish smile. "What do you say, laddie? Forty duros isn't bad for a first sale....Sempere, this boy of yours will make a name for himself in the business."
The choir cheered his remark. Barceló gave me a triumphant look and pulled out his leather wallet. He ceremoniously counted out two hundred pesetas, which in those days was quite a fortune, and handed them to me. But I just shook my head. Barceló scowled.
"Dear boy, greed is most certainly an ugly, not to say mortal, sin. Be sensible. Call me crazy, but I'll raise that to sixty duros, and you can open a retirement fund. At your age you must start thinking of the future."
I shook my head again. Barceló shot a poisonous look at my father through his monocle.
"Don't look at me," said my father. "I'm only here as an escort."
Barceló sighed and peered at me closely.
"Let's see, junior. What is it you want?"
"What I want is to know who Julián Carax is and where I can find other books he's written."
Barceló chuckled and pocketed his wallet, reconsidering his adversary.
"Goodness, a scholar. Sempere, what do you feed the boy?"
The bookseller leaned toward me confidentially, and for a second I thought he betrayed a look of respect that had not been there a few moments earlier.
"We'll make a deal," he said. "Tomorrow, Sunday, in the afternoon, drop by the Ateneo library and ask for me. Bring your precious find with you so that I can examine it properly, and I'll tell you what I know about Julián Carax. Quid pro quo."
"Quid pro what?"
"Latin, young man. There's no such thing as dead languages, only dormant minds. Paraphrasing, it means that you can't get something for nothing, but since I like you, I'm going to do you a favor."
The man's oratory could kill flies in midair, but I suspected that if I wanted to find out anything about Julián Carax, I'd be well advised to stay on good terms with him. I proffered my most saintly smile in delight at his Latin outpourings.
"Remember, tomorrow, in the Ateneo," pronounced the bookseller. "But bring the book, or there's no deal."
"Fine."
Our conversation slowly merged into the murmuring of the other members of the coffee set. The discussion turned to some documents found in the basement of El Escorial that hinted at the possibility that Don Miguel de Cervantes had in fact been the nom de plume of a large, hairy lady of letters from Toledo. Barceló seemed distracted, not tempted to claim a share in the debate. He remained quiet, observing me from his fake monocle with a masked smile. Or perhaps he was only looking at the book I held in my hands.
Product details
- Publisher : Penguin Books (February 1, 2005)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 487 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0143034901
- ISBN-13 : 978-0143034902
- Lexile measure : 990L
- Item Weight : 14.4 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.5 x 1.1 x 8.42 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #3,460 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #40 in Contemporary Literature & Fiction
- #465 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- #755 in Suspense Thrillers
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Carlos Ruiz Zafón is the author of six novels, including the international phenomenon The Shadow of the Wind and The Angel's Game, the first two books in a series of novels set in literary universe of The Cemetery of Forgotten Books. His work has been published in more than forty different languages, and honored with numerous international awards. He divides his time between Barcelona, Spain, and Los Angeles, California.
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The novel's hero is young Daniel Sempere who suffers from not being able to remember the death of his mother. One day his father takes him to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books where he finds a book called "The Shadow of the Wind" by Julian Carax. After falling in love with the book Daniel becomes obsessed with discovering who the mysterious Julian Carax is and what happened to him. As Daniel digs deep into Carax's past he discovers one of Barcelona's most disturbing secrets and at the same time his own drifting innocence. Zafon creates a unique and moving tale with Daniel and Julian, where the young book reader begins to realize that his own life is paralleling the author he has grown to admire. Here the novel reveals a great tragedy that becomes a horror to read and Zafon handles it delicately between Daniel and Julian concerning broken friendship, forbidden love, and a malicious evil with a history that plans to join their destinies.
"The Shadow of the Wind" is a real pleasure to read from its fast paced mystery to its wonderfully drawn characters including Daniel, his lovable retired secret agent sidekick Fermin Romero De Torres, his love interests, Bea Aguilar and Clara Barcelo. I enjoyed how Zafon weaved his romances into the story, developing Daniel's struggles with growing up between the two women he has affection for. He is nine years old when he falls for Clara, the gorgeous blind niece of the bookseller Gustavo whom he visits her to read to. It felt so true to life when Daniel learns how foolish his crush is when he witnesses Clara's affair with another man. His second love is when he is seventeen and has become a mature young man as he grows more intimate with Bea Aguilar who is his best friend's sister. Through the time he spends with Bea, Daniel learns what it means to fall in love in someone. In the end the novel is a moving story about love between two men, Daniel and Julian who venture through their own darkness to give each other the strong measure of peace they desire and hope to achieve.
Zafon handles every sub plot well in this book including the adventure Daniel must embark on to discover Julian and himself turning the story into a well crafted epic. From the moment Daniel discovers The Shadow of the Wind in the Cemetery of Forgotten Books to the climax with Julian Carax's adversary Inspector Franciso Javier Fumero, the story is a rare wonder. I will not spoil anymore for you beyond that Inspector Fumero is one of the most evil villains you will ever read in fiction. For those of you readers who want to read a stand alone tale "The Shadow of the Wind" is a single novel that brings every character and sub story to a fulfilling end. It is a book that everyone should give chance if you love to read; a beautifully woven story of adventure, romance, friendship, family, death, and spiritual redemption. Zafon has written a wonderful story that has something for everyone while faithful to the message that literature is powerful and can affect our perception of the world whether its through our eyes or the author's. This is one of those books that can turn a person who despises reading into a devoted bibliophile. Gorgeous from start to finish and one of my favorites next to "Lonesome Dove" by Larry McMurtry and "The House of the Scorpion" by Nancy Farmer.
The setting is 1940s and 1950s Barcelona (with side trips to Paris). The author has captured the feel of post civil-war, post world war II Spain perfectly. And, as a bonus, there is a tour map with pictures and guiding narrative at the end of the book for those who want to trace the steps of the book's characters as they lived in this story.
Some of the over-intellectualizing critics here (see the very few negative reviews) kind of miss the point. This is a great story, written by a very talented story-teller, filled with wonderfully developed and interesting characters. Is it literature? Is War and Peace literature? Is Madame Bovary? Is anything written by ANY modern author literature? We all know Dan Brown does not write literature - he writes outlines for screen plays, for instance. I actually don't care. I loved this story and the way it was written.
There are innumerable lines to underline and ponder. "Telling the truth should be kept as a last resort, Daniel, even more so to a nun," spoken on Page 253 by my favorite character in the book, the hilarious Fermin Romero de Torres. Or, "The most efficient way of rendering the poor harmless is to teach them to imitate the rich," page 198. And, "...what destiny does not do is home visits. You have to go for it," page 225.
Most of the negative reviews omit to say that this book is hilarious, time and time again. It is also sad, filled with pathos and violent in places. One sees both the good and terrible side of men and women.
The story bogs down somewhat during the long narrative by Nuria Monfort, where we learn important details of the various mysteries and intrigues central to the unraveling of the story. At times here and elsewhere in the book the writing suffers from what I would call TMI (too much information), when less would be better. The story is complicated as are the players, but all to the better. The reader has to "work" a little bit to catch on to the threads of the story, but in the last analysis the mystery is not so hard to solve. Any astute reader can be well ahead of the story teller here, but that does not ruin anything.
I do not really know what a gothic novel is, but apparently this is a modern version of "romance mixed with horror." The romance part vastly overshadows the horror part in this story. But the horror is quite graphic and sufficient. The evil character is indeed evil. It's hard to decide who the central character is" Daniel or Julian, as their lives and personalities become intertwined.
My major criticism focuses on my confusion about the "voice" of the story. Who really is the narrator? Ostensibly it is Daniel, but...............there are many pages where other voices take center stage. At times I had to read 3 or 4 pages of these other "voices" before I was sure about exactly who was "talking." Carlos Ruiz Zafon does not have as big a problem as Arturo Perez-Reverte about "voice of the story," but Zafon confused me at times.
There really is no denouement. Like all good, real stories, all of the players and themes simply merge together at the end, and the epilogues finish off any further questions a reader might have. I found the ending very satisfying.
"The Shadow of the Wind" is an enormously pleasurable read. If there were "in between" categories, I would give it a 4.6, but I'll round up the rating to a 5. And happy to do so.
Top reviews from other countries
"Under the warm light cast by the reading lamp, I was plunged into a new world of images and sensations peopled by characters who seemed as real to me as my surroundings. Page after page I let the spell of the story and its world take me over, until the breath of dawn touched my window and my tired eyes slid over the last page. I lay in the bluish half-light with the book on my chest and listened to the murmur of the sleeping city. My eyes began to close, but I resisted. I did not want to lose the story’s spell or bid farewell to its characters just yet."
And that almost precisely describes my reaction to this book, with the one proviso that it took me considerably longer than one night to read! It crept up on me gradually and for a while I wasn’t sure whether I was going to love it, but right from the beginning I found the writing compelling and intensely more-ish. And then the story began to darken and deepen, and I found myself lost, wandering the gloomy streets of Barcelona, past the decaying old houses deserted by those who had lost their wealth in the war, past the walls still pock-marked by bullets, searching with Daniel for the truth about what had happened to Julián Carax…
It transpires that there is a man – no one knows who he is – who is bent on destroying all remaining copies of Carax’s books – no one knows why. When Daniel is threatened by this man, he decides he must find out what happened to Carax, who fled Barcelona for Paris and subsequently disappeared. It is said that he returned during the confusion of the war and, like so many others, met a violent death on the streets of Barcelona. But was this random chance? Or was Carax’s death deliberate, and if so, what was the motive? As Daniel searches, he finds that his own life seems to have many parallels to Julián’s – will Julián’s tragedy become his too?
There’s a whole bunch of great characters – Daniel himself, whom we see grow from boy to man over the course of the story; his best friend, Fermín Romero de Torres, a beggar whom Daniel and his father befriend, giving him a job in the bookshop, and who provides a good deal of humour along the way; the evil Fumero, now a police inspector, a man who used the war as an excuse to practice his sadism, and is still corrupt and still feared by the people of the city. There’s the mysterious man who wants to burn all Carax’s books – a man so strange and frightening that Daniel is not sure if he is human or devil. And then there’s the story within the story – Julián’s story – where we meet his friends and family, all of whom play a role in the mystery of his life. Two parallel love stories run through the book – Julián’s long-ago, passionate, forbidden love for Penélope, which is at the heart of the mystery; and Daniel’s new, equally passionate, forbidden love for Beatriz. In both cases, the girls’ families see the men as beneath their class, unsuitable for their daughters. (The female characters are not nearly as well drawn as the men, but I’m not in the mood to criticise!)
The whole tone is Gothic, full of crumbling buildings, labyrinths, exalted love and melodramatic tragedy. And it’s wonderfully done. This is not a sunny fiesta city – this Barcelona is a place where it rains endlessly, where people are poor and afraid, where the scars of war show on the buildings, and on the bodies and in the souls of the inhabitants. Zafón does a wonderful job of depicting a city in the aftermath of civil war, where so many small and large tragedies have happened, and where now people must put old enmities away and find some way to live together again. Fear and death stalk the streets, with the authorities and some individuals still taking revenge against those they see as enemies. And the people who should be symbols of safety – the police – are the most vengeful and vicious of all, led by Fumero, a man who uses torture and death to further his own aims.
But in reality the war aftermath is all an aside – an interesting setting to set up the Gothic tone. First and foremost, this is simply a great story, wonderfully told. And as it slowly, very slowly, unfolds, it becomes mesmeric – every word seems perfectly designed to lead us to the next. By the halfway point I was completely absorbed in the labyrinthine plot – lost, at that stage, but with total confidence that I was in the hands of a master who would lead me eventually to the centre where the truth would be revealed. And when it was, I found it completely satisfying – both stories brought to wonderfully believable, emotive conclusions.
I avoided this book for years because it received so much hype, but for once this is one that fully deserves all the praise lavished on it. If you are one of the two remaining people in the world who haven’t read it, then I highly recommend you do! Marvellous!
‘I could tell you it’s his heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.’
🕯
The Shadow of the Wind written by Carlos Ruiz Zafon and translated by Lucia Graves, was an absolutely beautiful book to read and savour. I am in such awe of the flowing, vivid and rich details in this novel, and I must applaud Lucia Graves for her skill in her translation.
🕯
The Shadow of the Wind is hard to define to one specific genre; although it is classed as historical fiction I personally felt that it was more of a bildungsroman, with a crime thriller twist to it. The story follows Daniel Sempere from a young boy, as he first enters the Cemetery of Forgotten Books and chances upon a novel written by Julien Carax. He then embarks upon a journey throughout the years to uncover the truth about the author. Through this journey, we watch Daniel and those closest to him experience loneliness, forbidden love, prejudice, and lost friendships. Barcelona is shown to be a perfect gothic backdrop to this, and I loved visualising all the descriptions.
🕯
Whilst Daniel was my favourite character, it was Fermin Romero de Torres who I found the most entertaining, as his humour really cut through the more somber chapters. He was always so eccentric and crude but he surely had a heart of gold and was just loveable.
Fumero the main villain of the book, was one to really despise. He was an awful and malicious character, whom I loved to hate!
🕯
I did find that in the middle of the book the story did start to drag a bit, the pace slowed down a bit too much for my liking. However, I didn’t mind too much as I think my favourite aspect of this book was the rich writing that was full of similes and metaphors, which were incredibly perfect. I seriously could have included so many quotes in this review. There were so many descriptions about books and the readers enjoyment of them. This is definitely a book for all book lovers
I hated how all the women were written in this book. They were all unfortunate creatures of some description, lacking in depth of character. This was in complete opposite to the depth of character most of the men had. Hmmm. Too much focus on voluptuous breasts...if this was a romance or whatever, this might have been in context, but it wasn't here.
As if the pacing wasn't difficult enough, the way that the reveals came, in a letter (all tell and no whow). In the kindle edition, this was formatted as a book within a book...Chapter 1 this drove me crazy. The twists were somewhat clever but I'd lost my give a damn about 40% prior, so it didn't have the same shine.
Lots of people love this book, I don't know why it missed the spot but in my opinion it could have been shorter with the bore edited out. I have no compunction to continue with the series and if I never hear of Lain Courbert again, it will be too soon. I am reassured that most of my book club also struggled with this one, so it's not just me.
The book is set in parts as well as chapters, the parts give you an idea of the date that that part of the story is set in as it does span over a few years from Daniel being a child to going into teenage adult times. It also covers the time span of Julián and his story, so it does make it clear and there are ways you know when certain things happen for example when a character tells a story you know it is a story. As I said there is little signs of changes of time and topic or plot within the story. So it makes it easier to recognise.
As the blurb said it follows Daniel as he tries to discover the story of the author who wrote The Shadow of The Wind by Julián Carax. The story was complex, but not confusing, everything was explained and worked out through the story. The plot was so amazing and it draws you in, and you just want to turn the page over and over and before you know it you have finished the book. I have loads of things I want to say about this book but I also don’t want to put spoilers in, so I may have to do a video review and fangirl the heck out of this book.
Daniel, I immediately connected with his character especially his love for that book because I think we all have that love for a certain book so I definitely got where he was coming from with that. He was such a charming character and it was very interesting watching him grow up from a child to a teen slowly starting adulthood. His interaction with different characters completely showed what kind of person he was. Like when he goes to see Cara (Who is blind) sits and reads with her and he just does nice stuff. Always seems to get punched for it like.
Julián, he is I would say the other main character in this story and he is such an enigma and he is so fascinating and I love it. I think along with Daniel I fell in love with the man from him. Like he was so amazing and there is so much I want to say because I don’t want to spoil it. (So that’s all I can say about him because spoiler)
I loved all the characters in this book and I thought that they all had a nice part in the book and I liked them all well except the certain person who did the certain thing to a certain person. (See the spoiler problem?)
I can’t really say anything else about this book I may have to do a spoiler review on youtube. Would you all like that? Would you like to hear more about my thoughts on this with spoilers? Let me know!
The simple idea of a boy, Daniel, growing up after the WW2 is cleverly complicated by a gothic like storyline which develops beautifully. It all starts with a book Daniel chooses from the ‘Cemetery Of The Forgotten Books’. Daniel turns detective and is determined to find out more about the author. Daniel is, of course, maturing to adulthood along the way.
I’d describe this as a modern classic. It will keep your thought processes going and gives a good insight into the people of Barcelona from 1945 onwards.













