Liesl is the Deptford Trilogy's most intriguing character - so brilliant she belongs in a list of my all time favourites - but Magnus is not far behind, and this is effectively their combined story. I was disappointed at first by the original narrator's return in its opening pages, but this is only a framing device (like the therapy sessions of the previous book) and soon Magnus Eisengrim is describing how he ran away with the circus - or how the circus ran away with him.

The mystery that initially compelled me was wondering how he ever comes to harbour a grudge against Boy Staunton, since he begins with no knowledge about what triggered his birth and cares little for the family he's left behind. This is never explored until the end and winds up as window dressing, a bit disappointing in that respect; I like a "trilogy" to be tied more firmly together. This is still a strong story on its own two feet, in its exploration of Oswald Spengler's "magian world view": the medieval concept of the world as populated by angels and demons rather than the seemingly dull science-laden world we understand today, when only our most advanced scientists perceive the wonders still to be explored. The response to this loss of wonder in our time has been the move from superstition to conspiracy theories, but Davies in the 1970s was looking at a different challenge in his fiction: the necessary replenishment of wonder through clockwork, illusion and sleight of hand, as sustenance for the starving adult desire to be confounded. Perhaps the answer to social media is more stage magicians. ( )

I loved--LOVED--the first two books in this trilogy, [b:Fifth Business|74406|Fifth Business (Penguin Modern Classics)|Robertson Davies|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1170852646s/74406.jpg|603433] and [b:The Manticore|114496|The Manticore|Robertson Davies|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1309286341s/114496.jpg|1336039], but I was a bit underwhelmed by this final installment. I think what bothered me about it was the way in which it was told, which is as a series of monologues. I would suggest, also, not waiting years and years between books. If you're going to read the trilogy (and they come all bound in one volume) read them straight through. I think my experience suffered because I didn't do that. ( )

En El mundo de los prodigios, cierre y espectacular colofón de la Trilogía de Deptford, se resuelve el misterio que rodea la muerte del magnate Boy Staunton. Acciones en apariencia inocentes -una pelea con bolas de nieve o el aprendizaje de juegos de manos- se revelarán como acontecimientos decisivos en la vida de Paul Dempster, un niño de Deptford al que Staunton había conocido en su infancia y que, andando el tiempo, se convertiría en Magnus Eisengrim, el prestidigitador más famoso de su época. En esta novela, es Eisengrim quien contará su vida, ofreciendo su particular visión de la muerte de Staunton y explicando cómo aprendió su oficio y llegó a convertirse en un ilusionista de fama mundial. Su relato revelará hasta qué punto el camino hacia el éxito es más arduo y trágico de lo que parece a simple vista y cómo, una figura brillante, puede contar también con un oscuro pasado.

Explaining how Paul Dempster became Magnus Eisengrim, this last book in the Deptford trilogy is an account of how personality develops. The title "World of Wonders" seems ironic to me, as it explores the dingy reality behind a seemingly magical façade. A fine metaphor. The ultimate conclusion that myth, illusion, and faith are our desperate attempts to reconcile the cruelness of the world (and are pretty effective) left me with a sense of tragic fulfillment. Autobiography (the vehicle for Davies' thematic explorations) is seldom truth, or maybe there is no truth, or maybe there are far too many truths floating around to find such a word useful at all.

Concealment runs through this story as well, manifested in the frightening automaton Abdullah, in Eisengrim's un-billed work as Sir John's double, as the giant head that prophesied (posthumously) the death of Boy Staunton. These are all symbols for how we clothe ourselves inside our own fabrications, whether consciously or not, with the result that our true (there's that word again) selves are withheld from those around us. ( )

Canadá 3. ( )