Woman In The Window (hardcover)

A. J. Finn

Harpercollins

<p>Get ready for the biggest thriller of 2018. What did she see? It’s been ten long months since Anna Fox last left her home. Ten months during which she has haunted the rooms of her old New York house like a ghost, lost in her memories, too terrified to step outside. Anna’s lifeline to the real world is her window, where she sits day after day, watching her neighbours. When the Russells move in, Anna is instantly drawn to them. A picture-perfect family of three, they are an echo of the life that was once hers. But one evening, a frenzied scream rips across the silence and Anna witnesses something no one was supposed to see. Now she must do everything she can to uncover the truth about what really happened. But even if she does, will anyone believe her? And can she even trust herself?</p>

The Woman in the Window [Paperback] [Jan 29, 2018] A. J. Finn

The Woman in the Window

Literature & Fiction

Genre Fiction

End Of Story

The Woman in the Window: A Novel

William Morrow

<p>For readers of Gillian Flynn and Tana French comes one of the decade's most anticipated debuts, to be published in thirty-six languages around the world and already in development as a major film from Fox: a twisty, powerful Hitchcockian thriller about an agoraphobic woman who believes she witnessed a crime in a neighboring house.\nIt isn't paranoia if it's really happening . . .\nAnna Fox lives alone—a recluse in her New York City home, unable to venture outside. She spends her day drinking wine (maybe too much), watching old movies, recalling happier times . . . and spying on her neighbors.\nThen the Russells move into the house across the way: a father, mother, their teenaged son. The perfect family. But when Anna, gazing out her window one night, sees something she shouldn't, her world begins to crumble?and its shocking secrets are laid bare.\nWhat is real? What is imagined? Who is in danger? Who is in control? In this diabolically gripping thriller, no one—and nothing—is what it seems.\nTwisty and powerful, ingenious and moving, The Woman in the Window is a smart, sophisticated novel of psychological suspense that recalls the best of Hitchcock.</p>

The Woman In The Window

DOUBLEDAY

Her husband‘s almost home. He‘ll catch her this time. There isn‘t a scrap of curtain, not a blade of blind, in number 212 the rust-red townhome that once housed the newlywed Motts, until recently, until they un-wed. I never met either Mott, but occasionally I check in online: his LinkedIn profile, her Facebook page. Their wedding registry lives on at Macy‘s. I could still buy them flatware. As I was saying: not even a window dressing. So number 212 gazes blankly across the street, ruddy and raw, and I gaze right back, watching the mistress of the manor lead her contractor into the guest bedroom. What is it about that house? It‘s where love goes to die. She‘s lovely, a genuine redhead, with grass-green eyes and an archipelago of tiny moles trailing across her back. Much prettier than her husband, a Dr. John Miller, psychotherapist yes, he offers couples counseling and one of 436,000 John Millers online. This particular specimen works near Gramercy Park and does not accept insurance. According to the deed of sale, he paid $3.6 million for his house. Business must be good. I know both more and less about the wife. Not much of a homemaker, clearly; the Millers moved in eight weeks ago, yet still those windows are bare, tsk-tsk. She practices yoga three times a week, tripping down the steps with her magic-carpet mat rolled beneath one arm, legs shrink-wrapped in Lululemon. And she must volunteer someplace she leaves the house a little past eleven on Mondays and Fridays, around the time I get up, and returns between five and five thirty, just as I‘m settling in for my nightly film. (This evening‘s selection: The Man Who Knew Too Much, for the umpteenth time. I am the woman who viewed too much.) I‘ve noticed she likes a drink in the afternoon, as do I. Does she also like a drink in the morning? As do I? But her age is a mystery, although she‘s certainly younger than Dr. Miller, and younger than me (nimbler, too); her name I can only guess at. I think of her as Rita, because she looks like Hayworth in Gilda. I‘m not in the least interested love that line. I myself am very much interested. Not in her body the pale ridge of her spine, her shoulder blades like stunted wings, the baby-blue bra clasping her breasts: whenever these loom within my lens, any of them, I look away but in the life she leads. The lives. Two more than I‘ve got. Her husband rounded the corner a moment ago, just past noon, not long after his wife pressed the front door shut, contractor in tow. This is an aberration: On Sundays, Dr. Miller returns to the house at quarter past three, without fail. Yet now the good doctor strides down the sidewalk, breath chugging from his mouth, briefcase swinging from one hand, wedding band winking. I zoom in on his feet: oxblood oxfords, slick with polish, collecting the autumn sunlight, kicking it off with each step. I lift the camera to his head. My Nikon D5500 doesn‘t miss much, not with that Opteka lens: unruly marled hair, glasses spindly and cheap, islets of stubble in the shallow ponds of his cheeks. He takes better care of his shoes than his face. Back to number 212, where Rita and the contractor are speedily disrobing. I could dial directory assistance, call the house, warn her. I won‘t. Watching is like nature photography: You don‘t interfere with the wildlife. Dr. Miller is maybe half a minute away from the front door. His wife‘s mouth glosses the contractor‘s neck. Off with her blouse.

Nu e paranoia daca se intampla cu adevarat... Au trecut zece luni de cand Anna Fox a iesit ultima data din casa. Zece luni in care a bantuit ca o fantoma prin camerele vechii sale locuinte din New York, pierduta in amintiri, prea inspaimantata ca sa-si paraseasca siguranta propriului camin. Singura punte de legatura a Annei cu lumea reala este fereastra camerei sale, unde sta zi de zi, urmarindu-si vecinii. Cand familia Russell se muta peste drum, Anna este imediat atrasa de aceasta. O familie perfecta cu trei membri, un ecou al vietii pe care si ea a dus-o candva. Dar intr-o seara, un tipat teribil rupe tacerea, iar Anna este martora a ceva ce nimeni nu trebuia sa vada. Acum trebuie sa faca tot ce poate pentru a descoperi adevarul despre ceea ce s-a intamplat in realitate. Dar chiar daca il va afla, o va crede cineva? Si poate sa aiba incredere in ea insasi? Uluitoare. Senzationala. Extraordinara. (GILLIAN FLYNN - Autoarea romanului Fata disparuta) Tensiune la cote maxime. Suspans hitchcockian intr-o ambianta de secol XXI. (Val McDermid) Una dintre acele carti rare pe care nu le poti lasa din mana. (Stephen King) Uimitoare. Fascinanta. Pur si simplu fantastica! (Tess Gerritsen)

Femeia De La Fereastra

United States

LITERA

A mulher na janela

Arqueiro

LA MUJER EN LA VENTANA

Grijalbo

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