The Lost Continent
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The Lost Continent
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C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne
Ce titre utilise une narration à voix virtuelle
La voix virtuelle est une narration générée par ordinateur pour les livres audio.
À propos de ce contenu audio
The Lost Continent is C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne's 1900 novel of Atlantis, and the one that gave the lost island its most durable English voice — a first-person memoir written by the man who watched it sink.
It opens in the dry present. Two Englishmen, a doctor named Coppinger and the narrator, are grubbing through the caves of Grand Canary for Guanche mummies when they find something else: wax-upon-talc sheets, brittle as puffball dust, written in an unknown hand. Coppinger reads enough to know what he has and refuses to publish until the thing is translated whole. What follows is that translation — the memoir of Deucalion, priest of the Priests' Clan, soldier, and the outgoing Viceroy of Yucatan.
Deucalion's Atlantis is not a myth but a working state: a colonising power with a navy, a priesthood, a tribute system and a capital whose walls are built of stone and whose goddess is a living woman. Returning from the provinces, he finds the throne occupied by Phorenice, who has taken the name of the goddess and the powers of the office, and who wants him — first as a general, then as a husband. He refuses both, and the refusal costs him the woman he wants: Nais, daughter of the old priest Zaemon, is buried alive in the sacred mountain for the crime of loving him.
The rest of the book is the empire coming apart. Zaemon's rebellion, the siege of the sacred mountain, the storm that breaks Phorenice's towers, and Deucalion's raid to take Nais's body back out of the tomb she was sealed into alive — she is not dead. Behind all of it is the thing the priests have known and the empress has not: the Atlantic is rising, and Zaemon has spent a lifetime building the Ark of the Mysteries to carry a remnant out. The book ends with Phorenice at the ark's door, Deucalion's last refusal, and the water coming over the city — and then with a modern note that the sheets run out there, and that the rest is the sea.
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