Un Lun Dun

My dad hates umbrellas, said Deeba, swinging her own. When it rains he always says the same thing. 'I do not believe the presence of moisture in the air is sufficient reason to overturn society's usual sensible taboo against wielding spiked clubs at eye level.

If you're brave enough to try, you might be able to catch a train from UnLondon to Parisn't, or No York, or Helsunki, or Lost Angeles, or Sans Francisco, or Hong Gone, or Romeless.

...where's the skill in being a hero if you were always destined to do it?

I'm Margarita Staples." She bowed in her harness. "Extreme librarian. Bookaneer.

So...I'm the funny one? I'm the funny sidekick? . . . That's no way to talk about anyone! To say they're just hangers-on to someone more important.

Were you terrified, Murgatroyd?" Murgatroyd nodded eagerly. "There you go, girl: You're a terrorist. You make me twitchy, and under Article Forty-One of the 2000 Terrorism Bill, that's all I need. Time for some reasonable force, I think.

Yeah, but where’s the skill in being a hero if you were always destined to do it?

Is it dangerous? Hmm. Well, define 'dangerous.' Is a knife 'dangerous'? Is Russian roulette 'dangerous'? Is arsenic 'dangerous'? ...It really depends on your perspective.

My job is never boring," Staples said. "There's nuts-and-bolts stuff like getting the tarpaulin over the shaft when it rains, and so in. Cataloging and reshelving. The shelves are in a shocking state. And when you've got everything ever written or lost to keep track of, it's quite a job. And there's fetching books. "I used to really look forward to requests for books way down in the abyss. We'd all rope up, follow our lines down for miles. The order falls apart a way down but you learn to sniff out class-marks. Sometimes we'd be gone for weeks, fetching volumes.' She spoke with a faraway voice. "There are risks. Hunters, animals, and accidents. Ropes that snap. Sometimes someone gets separated. Twenty years ago, I was in a group looking for a book someone had requested. I remember, it was called 'Oh, All Right Then': Bartleby Returns. We were led by Ptolemy Yes. He was the man taught me. Best librarian there's ever been, some say. "Anyway, after weeks of searching, we ran out of food and had to turn back. No one likes it when we fail, so none of us were feeling great. "We felt that much worse when we realized that we'd lost Ptolemy. "Some people say he went off deliberately. That he couldn't bear not to find the book. That he's out there still in the Wordhoard Abyss, living off shelf-monkeys, looking. And that he'll be back one day, book in his hand.

Come on then," Deeba said. "We haven't got time to waste. You're not the ones who are going to get forgot in a few days' time if you don't phone home.

You've met our guards." He gestured at the silent cylindrical guide. "The secret warriors: the binja.

Strictly speaking, she thought, this place was a cross between a forest and a jungle. “This is a jorest,” she said to Hemi. “Yeah,” he said. “No, it’s a fungle.” They grinned.

A dark-windowed diesel train burst out of the building, close enough to make the bus shake. It helter-skeltered downward into the earth. “Where’s it going?” Zanna said. “Crossing the Odd, to some of the other abcities,” Jones said. “If you’re brave enough to try, you might be able to catch a train from UnLondon to Parisn’t, or No York, or Helsunki, or Lost Angeles, or Sans Francisco, or Hong Gone, or Romeless…It’s a terminus.

If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t take him for part-ghost—but you’d know he wanted to be somewhere else.

I do not believe the presence of moisture in the air is sufficient reason to overturn society’s usual sensible taboo against wielding spiked clubs at eye level.

UnLondon would have to look after itself. She wasn’t the Shwazzy. She was just someone. How could just someone be any help, whatever was going on?

Easiest way is to bend over and say ‘car.

Pokud člověka mátlo pobývat v Přízrakově, kde ho obklopovali duchové předchozích forem, ocitnout se uvnitř této budovy mu vyrazilo dech. Zdálo se, jako by se chodba stahovala a zužovala podle kolotání jejích duchů. Stěny byly ověšené osvědčeními a obrazy, které obklopovaly další v přízračné podobě. Kolem světel visely přízraky holých žárovek a složitých lustrů. "Myslím, že hodím šavli," řekla Deeba. "To je ti jenom duchno," poznamenal Hemi. "To se spraví.