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Hannibal Rising

by Thomas Harris
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Product Details

  • Publisher: Dell
  • Publishing date: 29/05/2007
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-13: 9780440242864
  • ISBN: 044024286X

Synopsis

Discover the origins of one of the most feared villains of all time in Thomas Harris's Hannibal Rising, a novel that promises to reveal the "evolution of Hannibal Lecter's evil." Thomas Harris first introduced readers to Hannibal Lecter in Red Dragon, a tale wrapped around FBI agent Will Graham (the man who hunted Lecter down) and his ability to "get inside the mind of the killer." Graham consults Dr. Lecter (the man who nearly killed him) on the case, and the legend of the nefarious Dr. Lecter was born. Harris's masterful and mesmerizing follow up, The Silence of the Lambs wowed fans, but it was Jonathan Demme's terrifying, Oscar-winning (Best Actor, Actress, Director, Picture and Adapted Screenplay) film, and Anthony Hopkins's extraordinary (and arguably over the top) performance that made "Hannibal the Cannibal" a household name. Hannibal, the third book in the Lecter saga made Lecter the prey and seemingly wrapped up the tale of the cannibalistic psychiatrist, but never revealed the source of the doctor's...gifts. Fans have been waiting decades to find out how the good doctor became "death's prodigy," making Hannibal Rising one of the most anticipated books of 2006 (and movies of 2007). --Daphne Durham


Hannibal Rising: An Excerpt

Prologue

The door to Dr. Hannibal Lecter's memory palace is in the darkness at the center of his mind and it has a latch that can be found by touch alone. This curious portal opens on immense and well-lit spaces, early baroque, and corridors and chambers rivaling in number those of the Topkapi Museum.

Everywhere there are exhibits, well-spaced and lighted, each keyed to memories that lead to other memories in geometric progression.

Spaces devoted to Hannibal Lecter's earliest years differ from the other archives in being incomplete. Some are static scenes, fragmentary, like painted Attic shards held together by blank plaster. Other rooms hold sound and motion, great snakes wrestling and heaving in the dark and lit in flashes. Pleas and screaming fill some places on the grounds where Hannibal himself cannot go. But the corridors do not echo screaming, and there is music if you like.

The palace is a construction begun early in Hannibal's student life. In his years of confinement he improved and enlarged his palace, and its riches sustained him for long periods while warders denied him his books.

Here in the hot darkness of his mind, let us feel together for the latch. Finding it, let us elect for music in the corridors and, looking neither left nor right, go to the Hall of the Beginning where the displays are most fragmentary.

We will add to them what we have learned elsewhere, in war records and police records, from interviews and forensics and the mute postures of the dead. Robert Lecter's letters, recently unearthed, may help us establish the vital statistics of Hannibal, who altered dates freely to confound the authorities and his chroniclers. By our efforts we may watch as the beast within turns from the teat and, working upwind, enters the world.


Chapter 6

Lothar heard it first as he drew water, the roar of an engine in low gear and cracking of branches. He left the bucket on the well and in his haste he came into the lodge without wiping his feet.

A Soviet tank, a T-34 in winter camouflage of snow and straw, crashed up the horse trail and into the clearing. Painted on the turret in Russian were AVENGE OUR SOVIET GIRLS and WIPE OUT THE FASCIST VERMIN. Two soldiers in white rode on the back over the radiators. The turret swiveled to point the tank's cannon at the house. A hatch opened and a gunner in hooded winter white stood behind a machine gun. The tank commander stood in the other hatch with a megaphone. He repeated his message in Russian and in German, barking over the diesel clatter of the tank engine.

"We want water, we will not harm you or take your food unless a shot comes from the house. If we are fired on, every one of you will die. Now come outside. Gunner, lock and load. If you do not see faces by the count of ten, fire." A loud clack as the machine gun's bolt went back.

Count Lecter stepped outside, standing straight in the sunshine, his hands visible. "Take the water. We are no harm to you."

The tank commander put his megaphone aside. "Everyone outside where I can see you."

The count and the tank commander looked at each other for a long moment. The tank commander showed his palms.

The count showed his palms. The count turned to the house. "Come."

When the commander saw the family he said, "The children can stay inside where it's warm."

And to his gunner and crew, "Cover them. Watch the upstairs windows. Start the pump. You can smoke."

The machine gunner pushed up his goggles and lit a cigarette. He was no more than a boy, the skin of his face paler around his eyes. He saw Mischa peeping around the door facing and smiled at her.

Among the fuel and water drums lashed to the tank was a small petrol-powered pump with a rope starter.

The tank driver snaked a hose with a screen filter down the well and after many pulls on the rope the pump clattered, squealed, and primed itself.

The noise covered the scream of the Stuka dive bomber until it was almost on them, the tank's gunner swiveling his muzzle around, cranking hard to elevate his gun, firing as the airplane's winking cannon stitched the ground. Rounds screamed off the tank, the gunner hit, still firing with his remaining arm.

The Stuka's windscreen starred with fractures, the pilot's goggles filled with blood and the dive bomber, still carrying one of its eggs, hit treetops, plowed into the garden and its fuel exploded, cannon under the wings still firing after the impact. Hannibal, on the floor of the lodge, Mischa partly under him, saw his mother lying in the yard, bloody and her dress on fire.

"Stay here!" to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death's head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him.

Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother's clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar. The shots outside slowed and stopped as bullets melted in the breeches of the cannon. The sky darkened and snow came again, hissing on the hot metal.

Darkness, and snow again. Hannibal among the corpses, how much later he did not know, snow drifting down to dust his mother's eyelashes and her hair. She was the only corpse not blackened and crisped. Hannibal tugged at her, but her body was frozen to the ground. He pressed his face against her. Her bosom was frozen hard, her heart silent. He put a napkin over her face and piled snow on her. Dark shapes moved at the edge of the woods. His torch reflected on wolves' eyes. He shouted at them and waved a shovel. Mischa was determined to come out to her mother—he had to choose. He took Mischa back inside and left the dead to the dark.

Mr. Jakov's book was undamaged beside his blackened hand until a wolf ate the leather cover and amid the scattered pages of Huyghens' Treatise on Light licked Mr. Jakov's brains off the snow. Hannibal and Mischa heard snuffling and growling outside. Hannibal built up the fire. To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists.

"Ein Mannlein . . ."

Snowflakes on the windows. In the corner of a pane, a dark circle appeared, made by the tip of a glove. In the dark circle a pale blue eye.

Excerpted from HANNIBAL RISING by Thomas Harris Copyright © 2006 byThomas Harris.

The Hannibal Lecter Books

Red Dragon

The Silence of the Lambs

Hannibal


The Hannibal Lecter DVDs

Manhunter

Red Dragon

The Silence of the Lambs

Hannibal



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  • Not bad but...
    From Amazon

    Quite diverting for a few hours but I found the whole Lady Murasaki as mystical eastern flower thing a trifle pretentious and silly. The fact that Hannibal killed people in revenge doesn't tell us why he went on to kill - and eat - others because he felt like it...I guess we can draw our own conclusions and that may not be such a bad thing.

  • Different from the previous books, but totally enjoyable!
    From Amazon

    This is definitely different from Thomas Harris' previous novels and notably lacking in suspense. However, I thought it was totally enjoyable read, and finished it in three days. The previous books in the series were entertaining and suspenseful; I found 'Red Dragon' dark, 'Silence of the Lambs' slick, and 'Hannibal' over-the-top. This book lacks those particular qualities, but I found it terribly entertaining. Hannibal Lecter emerges as a sympathetic character at the beginning of the novel, although by the end of the novel, I think different readers will have different levels of empathy with him. The novel does a good job of establishing the roots of Hannibal's predilections, his cruelty, his meticulousness, his genius, and his fine tastes. It also explains the roots of his professional career as a psychiatrist, and details his education. I fell in love with the character of Lady Murasaki. I have not seen the film version, but I imagined her as Gong Li (the actress in the film). Her elegance lent beauty to the novel and, while certainly not high literature, the novel was really fun to read.

  • Not "bad", just not necessary....
    From Amazon

    The problem with this book is not so much that it's bad, but that it's unnecessary. One of the greatest villains in recent history, Hannibal Lecter is a character who is best left as a complete enigma. He should be someone who just "Is"; no further explanations needed. 'Hannibal Rising' is disappointing because it removes this mystique, reducing Lecter to a little more than a textbook psychopathic case. Oddly, despite offering us an explanation for how Lecter became what he is, we're still not given much insight into his character. He is an intelligent child who suffers great personal tragedy early in his life, after which he transforms into a mute loner and then a heartless killer. There's no long, slow escalation in his psychopathic tendencies; his very first murder as a teenager is premeditated and cold-blooded. It would have been better to witness a gradual decline in his psychological state, perhaps from an accidental or passionate killing to more calculated and gruesome murder. But instead we see someone whose character development basically stops at about page 60. Surprisingly for Harris, the characters in `Hannibal Rising' are quite one-dimensional and shallow. Inspector Popil, who shares Lecter's personal pain but cannot support his actions, is arguably the best-drawn and most human character here. But Lady Murasaki seems like little more than a pubescent boy's fantasy woman; beautiful, exotic, sensual, spending most of her time relaxing in scented baths and walking around barefoot in skimpy kimonos. And the villains are all brutal, heartless ex-mercenaries for whom we do not feel the slightest empathy as Lecter brutally slaughters them. To be fair to Harris, it seems he was coerced into writing this by threats that someone else would do it if he didn't. And throughout the book you can almost feel Harris' lack of enthusiasm for the project. His distinctive, engaging writing style is still present in places, but other parts of the book are lazily written. It's also much shorter and simpler than his other books, and like some other reviewers I do wonder if this is much more than a glorified screenplay. Perhaps it might have been better to refuse and let some Hollywood screenwriter do their worst. At least then Harris could wash his hands of it and claim it isn't a legitimate part the Lecter series. In all, I just find this a completely unworthy and unnecessary addition to the Lecter saga. Maybe two stars is harsh, because it's readable enough and not "bad" in that sense. But it is well below the quality of the other Lecter novels, and actually ends up detracting from them. I assume the whole point of this book was to provide a new and challenging insight into Lecter, but ultimately the book renders him less, not more, interesting than before. In that context , `Hannibal Rising' must be considered a failure.

  • Garbage
    From Amazon

    This FBI patsy and that James Patterson should get together and jump in a lake!

  • Some thoughts....
    From Amazon

    I don't want to be overly critical from a literary standpoint of this book because I love everything Thomas Harris writes, but I tore through this book in probably 5 hours reading time, and there are a few things I want to say. - I won't complain about the chapter lengths, but the book was too short - around 320 pages. And when you take into account that most of the 60 (?) chapters are lead by a blank page between, that makes it even shorter. Given the length of previous books, it has an unusual brevity. - A lot of the story beats come and go too quickly. Hannibal's uncle is barely introduced as a character, and BAM! Dead. - The exotic element in the book (read: the Japanese stuff) seems like no more than window dressing, really. It isn't weaved through the story well, like all the elements of Florence and the Renaissance throughout "Hannibal". And to me, it doesn't make much sense, since all of Hannibal's interests you hear about from the earlier novels are largely European. - Does anybody else who's read this think the whole bit about the family's stolen paintings are a red herring? It's given a lot of time early on, and then just tied up in a ragged little bow at the end after you've completely forgotten about them. - I don't really mind the whole "Hannibal as an action hero" feeling, but it does kind of put you at odds with the way he's usually depicted. - Even though I'm not a rabid fan of this one, don't anyone lump me in with the people that hated "Hannibal". That is simply one of the greatest novels ever written. I've read it at least 5 or 6 times. The only other book I've read that much is "Dune." - I still haven't seen the "Hannibal Rising" movie, and I don't think I will. After having read the book, I really am starting to feel that the chicken came before the egg, and the book was kind of rushed out. It just feels that way to me. - One more simple but probably irrational question - WHY HASN'T THOMAS HARRIS WRITTEN MORE BOOKS?! Think about it: 5 novels since the publication of "Black Sunday" in 1974. That is 35 years! Honestly, pick up the pace a little, man! I'm not saying he has to become some printing-press hack like James Patterson, but being a little more prolific would be nice. And they don't have to be Hannibal books - "Black Sunday", always the red-headed stepchild, is a GREAT novel too. The man can pour such depth and suspense into his novels, and I want a few more of them before he or I kick the bucket!. I guess that's also why "Hannibal Rising" feels like a short thrift. It's good, but it is only a glimmer of his other achievments.

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