Immortal [NOOK Book]

Overview

In an age of wonderous beauty and terrible secrets,
one man searches for his destiny...

In the majestic heart of Florence, a beautiful golden-haired boy is abandoned and subjected to cruelty beyond words. But Luca Bastardo is anything but an ordinary boy. Across two centuries of passion and intrigue, Luca will discover an astonishing gift—one that will lead him to embrace the ancient mysteries of alchemy and ...
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Immortal

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Overview

In an age of wonderous beauty and terrible secrets,
one man searches for his destiny...

In the majestic heart of Florence, a beautiful golden-haired boy is abandoned and subjected to cruelty beyond words. But Luca Bastardo is anything but an ordinary boy. Across two centuries of passion and intrigue, Luca will discover an astonishing gift—one that will lead him to embrace the ancient mysteries of alchemy and healing and to become a trusted confidant to the powerful Medicis…even as he faces persecution from a sadistic cabal determined to wrest his secrets for themselves.

But as the Black Death and the Inquisition wreak havoc on his beloved city, Luca’s survival lies in the quest to solve two riddles. One is the enigma of his parents and his ageless beauty. The other is a choice between immortality and the only chance to find his one true love. As Luca journeys through the heights of the Renaissance, befriends Giotto and Leonardo Da Vinci—140 years apart—and pursues the most closely guarded secrets of religious faith and science for the answers to his own burning questions, his remarkable search will not only change him…but will change the course of history.


From the Trade Paperback edition.
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Editorial Reviews

School Library Journal

Adult/High School -Living on the streets of 14th-century Florence at age nine, Luca is abducted by a cruel brothel keeper who holds him captive for many years. Slatton paints a rich, skillfully crafted portrait that immediately draws readers in to the beauty and depravity of Florence over two centuries as she unveils Luca Bastardoa€™s mystical and mysterious life, continuing through the rebirth of the arts and sciences. In his search for his origins, Luca meets an alchemist who answers some of his questions while raising many more. When the Plague comes to Florence, he learns more about his special gifts, and the course of his life changes. He is befriended by the powerful leader and patron of the arts Cosimo dea€™ Medici, his ruthless grandson Lorenzo dea€™ Medici, the painter Giotto, the brilliant young Leonardo da Vinci, Boticelli, alchemists, philosophers, and physicos , as well as by many beautiful women. He inevitably comes face to face with the fanatical Savonarola. Immortal is a fulfilling treat. It could enhance an art-history or world-history class, the study of philosophy, or be read for pure pleasure. An outstanding debut.-Ellen Bell, Amador Valley High School, Pleasanton, CA

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780440337416
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 1/29/2008
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Sales rank: 506,768
  • File size: 665 KB

Meet the Author

Traci L. Slatton is a graduate of Yale and Columbia, and she also attended the Barbara Brennan School of Healing. She lives in Manhattan with her husband, sculptor Sabin Howard, whose classical figures and love for Renaissance Italy inspired her to write a novel set during that time period. Immortal is her first novel.


From the Trade Paperback edition.
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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One


my name is luca and i am dying. It's true that every man dies, that cities fade and principalities ebb and whole brilliant civilizations are snuffed out into thin scrims of gray smoke. But I have been different-the blessing and the curse of a Laughing God. These last one hundred eighty years, I have been Luca Bastardo, Luca the Bastard, and if I knew little about my origins, I knew about myself that I was exempt from death's call. It was not my doing; my life simply flowed on through the shining city of Florence like the volatile river Arno. The great Leonardo da Vinci once told me that capricious nature took pleasure in creating a man with my lasting youthfulness, to watch the spirit imprisoned within my body struggle with its longing to return to its Source. I don't have the Maestro's brilliance, but in my small opinion, my life has amused the Lord. And if it weren't for the hand of the Inquisitor claiming to do His work, life would use me still.

But now the burns and broken bones, the gangrene putrefying my leg and nauseating me with its odor, curtail my time. It's just as well. I have no wish to ramble on like a braggart, boasting about the great men he befriended, the beautiful women he touched, the battles he fought, the marvels he witnessed, and his one incomparable love. Those things are true, and they mark my life, as have wealth and hunger, sickness and war, victory and shame, magic and prophecy. But they are not the reason for my story. My story must be told for other purposes. I offer it to those whose souls long to know the soul of the world. From almost two centuries of living may be learned what matters in life, what is truly valuable upon this earth, and in what music the voice of the Laughing God leaves behind irony and becomes immortal song.

i never knew where i came from. It was as if I woke up on the streets of Florence in 1330, a boy already grown nine years. I was smaller than most physically, perhaps because I never had enough to eat, but alert, of brutal necessity. In those days I slept in alcoves and under bridges and scrounged for dropped soldi during the day. I begged alms from rich women and slid my fingers into the pockets of well-dressed men. I spread a rag at the feet of elders alighting from their carriages on rainy days. I emptied chamber pots into the Arno and cleaned brushes for grooms and chimney sweeps. I climbed up onto high roofs and repaired terra-cotta tiles. I ran errands for a peddler who knew me to be quick and dependable. Sometimes I followed a priest around, chanting Hail Marys and long sections of the Mass in Latin, because I was a natural mimic who could repeat whatever I heard, and it amused the priest into rare Christian charity. I even let some of the older men pull me under the bridge and stroke me, holding my breath while their greedy hands roamed over my back and buttocks. Anything for a coin for a meal. I was always hungry.

One of my favorite activities was scouring the ground at the market for fruit that rolled off carts and stands. Usually it was abandoned as bruised, dirty, and worthless, but I was never that finicky; I always thought a few dark spots made anything more interesting. Sometimes I found dropped coins, and once a pearl-studded bracelet that, sold, kept me in bread and salted meat for a month. I couldn't visit the same market often, because the ufficiale della guardia were always on the lookout for ragamuffins like me and would beat us, or worse, if they caught us. But every week or so I would go early to one of the dozens of markets that served the hundred thousand inhabitants of Florence and let myself be dazzled by the wares. The markets were voluptuous in both scent and appearance: sweet-smelling red apples and piquant speckled apricots, golden rows of thick-crusted breads exuding the warm fragrance of yeast, herb-cured haunches of pig and pink ribs of beef and pale, soft cuts of lamb that smelled like field lavender, thick aromatic wedges of cheese, and clots of yellow-white butter. I glutted my gaze and my nose, promising myself I would one day feast until sated in all of my being. I also calculated how to score precious morsels immediately. Even a few crumbs would stave off the restless night of a groaning belly. Every bite mattered.

My family in those days consisted of two other street urchins of whom I was fond, Massimo and Paolo. Massimo had a clubfoot, droopy ears, and a milky eye that spun off in all directions, and Paolo had the dark cast of a gypsy, reason enough for them to be cast out onto the street. Florence never tolerated imperfection. I myself never knew why I'd been abandoned. Massimo, who was clever, claimed I must be the son of a nobleman's wife by the family friar, a not uncommon mishap. It was he who laughingly dubbed me "Luca Bastardo."

"At least they didn't suffocate you!" he teased me, and we had seen enough dead infants tossed into the gutters to know the truth of his words. Whatever my history, I was lucky to live. Physically, there was nothing wrong with me, other than being small and scrawny. I was perfectly formed in all my parts. My appearance was even pleasing. I'd been told many times that my yellow-red hair and peach skin were beautiful, that their contrast with my dark eyes was compelling. It was not the kind of thing I listened to when the old men were stroking me. I kept myself occupied dreaming about food, then I took their soldi and bought warm rolls and chunks of cured fish to salve my hunger and my unease.

Those early days were filled with simple intentions: to feed myself, to stay warm and dry, to laugh and to play whenever the opportunity arose. There was a purity to my life that I would experience only one other time, more than a century later, and I would prize those later years fiercely because I knew how life could be despoiled.

I often diverted myself by playing board games with clever Massimo and wrestling with strong Paolo, who had a fierce temperament that matched his gypsy heritage. I always lost to my adopted brothers, until one day when the three of us were playing in the grassy Piazza Santa Maria Novella in the western end of the city. It was a fine spring day, with a faint breeze puffing beneath an endless blue sky and playing in ripples across the silvery-blue Arno, the afternoon before the festival of the Annunciation. The powerful and zealous Dominicans liked to preach there, but that day the piazza had been taken over by throngs of people: boys running and playing; mercenary soldiers called condottieri gambling and catcalling; groups of women gossiping, with their girlchildren hanging on their full brocade skirts; wool-workers and shopkeepers strolling out for the midday meal; notaries and bankers manufacturing errands just so they, too, could enjoy the rare day of warmth and high sunshine during Marzo pazzo, crazy March. A group of noblemen's sons raced about, practicing swordplay with the sure prerogative of their station. I couldn't help but envy them, they had what every Florentine wanted: good food and well-made clothes, skill with swords and horses, and the certainty of a fine marriage to strengthen their position in society.

The boys wore fine woolen mantelli and were thrusting and feinting with blunt wooden swords under the watchful eye of their master, who was famed in Florence for his strategic swordplay. I scooted around to better hear his instructions-I had a thirst for learning, and I remembered whatever I heard. Paolo had other ideas. He picked up a stick from the grass and charged at me, chortling wildly and mimicking the boys.

"Bastardo, defend yourself!" Massimo called from a short distance away, tossing a stick to me. I caught it and spun around just in time to deflect Paolo's thrust. It was a lucky save; Paolo hadn't meant to hurt me, but he was slow in the head and often left bruises. He grinned and I gathered he meant to have some fun at the rich boys' expense, so I bowed, and he bowed back. We lofted our fake swords and danced around each other, pretending to be noblemen's sons, mocking them with exaggerated flourishes and foppish prancing. A nearby group of condottieri laughed, a coarse sound full of derision, and the noble boys bristled.

"Let's teach these street bastards a lesson!" the tallest boy cried, charging. Instantly Paolo and I were surrounded by five wooden swords chopping at our sticks. The condottieri cheered. Paolo had a bull's strength and he knocked down two of the boys. I didn't have his brawn, so I ducked under the blows, leaping out of reach. Paolo fell, blood spurting from his nose, and anger flared through me. I swung my stick at the boys in front of me, hacking futilely, and the stick broke in half. Taunting laughter rose up. Now the condottieri were laughing at me. It made me angrier and I lashed out wildly with what was left of my stick. It was a stupid move. Two boys cut sideways at me at the same time. I was thrown onto my back, ribs sore on both sides and the breath frozen in my chest. The condottieri guffawed.

"Boy, you're going to get yourself killed," said an old man, bending over me. By then a sizable crowd had gathered. Florentines relished nothing more than a lopsided brawl.

"Those boys hurt my friend!" I cried. "And they're laughing at me!" I pointed at the condottieri.

The old man was short and stout and homely, but had lively eyes that seemed to take in everything at once and to understand it all instantly. "Men laugh because God laughs, and right now, God is laughing at you," he said, with a clear-eyed look of empathy. It was a look I'd never before received, a look that made me almost feel like a real person, and his words were graven on my heart. God laughs, I thought with wonder. Yes, that makes sense of what I've seen on the streets. Those long-ago words have, in fact, made sense of my entire life.

"I don't like when anyone laughs," I sniffled, "and I want to make them stop hurting me and my friend!"

"That broken stick of yours is pitiful." The old man shrugged.

"It's all I've got!"

He shook his head and squatted beside me. "Boy, the solid things you can hold in your hands are never all you've got. They're the least of what belong to you. The qualities inside you, those are what you've really got to defend yourself with."

"All I've got inside me is the street!"

"If that's true, it's a Florentine street! We Florentines have great souls. We're imaginative, creative, spirited; we make the best artists and merchants. That's why we're famous for our sharp wit and intelligence, our ingegno. You have it, too, or you wouldn't survive on the streets!" His eyes twinkled, taking in without judgment my rags and filth. "When you're faced with superior strength and numbers, when you're faced with a challenge, you must go inside yourself, find that ingegno, and use it."

"How?" I asked suspiciously, wrapping my arms around my aching rib cage.

"I saw you listening to the sword master before this fracas started. You're clever, if you pay attention to people who know more than you do. You can come up with a sideways strategy, something unexpected, to defend yourself. Surprise, strategy, and subterfuge, those are your weapons!" He gripped my shoulder in warm encouragement.

"Come on, bastarda girl," sneered one of the noble boys who'd knocked me down. "Let's see you wield your broken stick!"

"Against three of them?" I said sotto voce to the man. Fear rippled in my gut and I had to fight to still the quiver in my chin. "They're big and well fed!"

"Ingegno." He shrugged. I nodded and lurched to my feet. He patted my shoulder.

"Here you go, girlie!" One of the boys kicked the broken stick to me. I eyed it and instead of picking it up, I mimicked panic. It wasn't a stretch; I was terrified. The three boys would thrash me to gore if they caught me. A crowd of onlookers circled us, with the ragged line of condottieri standing to the side. Shrieking like a girl, I ran around the boys and behind the condottieri as if fleeing. The crowd railed with hilarity to see me running away, and I took the opportunity to relieve an unheeding condottiere of his dagger. It was a quick, practiced lift out of his belt. Then I charged out from behind the soldiers with the dagger raised high.

"Look, the little bastard's got a tiny bastard sword," quipped one of the condottieri. The dagger I held was kin to the mighty spada da una mano e mezzo, the longsword also known as the bastard sword. The other mercenaries howled with laughter at his wit.

The three noble boys simply stared at the dagger, while I ran over to stand beside blood-spattered Paolo, who still lay on the ground, moaning. "Come on!" I challenged, gesturing with the sharp point of the blade. "Who wants to feel my broken stick now? Wary and suddenly unsure, the boys stood frozen and mute. None of them wanted to feel the dagger's prick. It was a standoff.

"Come, boys, you've had enough fun; your master will want to school you," the old man called dryly, allowing the boys to stand down with dignity. They muttered sullenly but dropped their swords and knelt to help their comrades. The sword master, a big, bearded man with hulking arms and thighs, walked by and thumped my chest so hard that I rocked back on my feet.

"Clever." He smiled. "You can come watch whenever I'm training these dunderheads. From a distance, though." He bowed his head to the old man and murmured, "Master." The old man inclined his head, and then turned to me.

"What's inside you is the gate to everything." The old man smiled. "Remember that."

"Maybe God won't laugh at me so much if I use my ingegno," I said shyly, awed at the attention from this stranger who commanded even a famous sword master's respect.

"God just laughs, boy, it's not about you. It has something to do with how life is a divine comedy." He stroked his beard. "Now give the dagger back to the soldier, or your ingegno will win you some fine blows to the head." I laughed and ran over to the hapless condottiere, who hadn't even felt me lift his dagger. I offered it to him hilt first, and he took it with an elaborate bow to me, hand over his heart and head swept low. I bowed back, copying him, and the condottieri laughed again, this time with approval. Almost dizzy with pride, I ran back to help Paolo, who was struggling to sit up. I gave him my hand and he rose to his feet grinning.

From the Trade Paperback edition.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 26 )
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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 26 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 4, 2008

    One of the best pieces of literature I've read thus far!!!

    Disturbing, arousing and full of twists and turns!!! This novel brought me through sadness, grief, through time and how timeless humanity really is. Traci L. Slatton wove a fantastic tapestry of love, revenge, carnal cruelty and hope. If you haven't yet read it, grab a copy today and indulge your senses to a vivid world as revealed by Luca Bastardo!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 21, 2008

    A reviewer

    This book not only had me questioning who i was as a person but who we are as a civilization. It rocked me to my core. It makes the reader understand that suffering, may be cruel and heartbreaking, but in the end makes us who we are. I look forward to reading more from this author who uses history as a battle ground for her fantasy story. This book was completley enjoyable and i applaud this author!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 6, 2009

    Passionate, engrossing, compulsively readable!

    This book has a feminine cover but men love it, too. It grabs you at page 1 and never lets you go. Luca Bastardo is magnificent, the story is compelling, and I've heard it will be a movie. I can't wait to see it!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 22, 2008

    Magnifico..Excellente y Puntual !

    Black Death, The Inquisition, Jews and Witchery ! Great artist, Magestry and the secrets of religious faith and science.. If you don't pick up this book and get lost in it you will miss out on a great journey.. Love it 'Rhode Island '

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 24, 2008

    A outstanding book!

    This book was one of the best books I have read. I wanted so badly to make the 27 chapters last longer then they did but I just could not lay it down. I read it in just three days. I stayed up into the later hours of the night reading 'knowing just how early work was coming' just so I could enjoy the bitter sweetness of this novel! The end of it is tragic and yet where there is despair the light still shines bright. If you don¿t have this book, BUY IT NOW¿.its that great! Bravo to the author and I hope that the author will write another one soon. By the way this book made Leonardo da Vinci much more real to me as a person. Just outstanding!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 3, 2008

    I FELL IN LOVE WITH LUCA!

    Ms. Slatton's combined use of history, fact, and fantasy is tantalizing and mind gripping. Her characters are each sharply defined and believable. The reader grows right along with Luca -- experiencing his triumphs and pain. I found myself 'rationing' the chapters to make it last longer. A fine novel and a GREAT read!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 23, 2014

    Im miffed

    -,-

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  • Posted August 14, 2012

    This book had me soul searching. I loved Luca's spirit. The bo

    This book had me soul searching. I loved Luca's spirit. The book changed my view on life.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 6, 2012

    When is there going to be a sequel?

    Sequel........please!!

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  • Posted February 28, 2010

    A book that has restored my faith in good literature

    I have recently found myself unable to locate a book worth reading, it seemed that only mediocre stuff was being put on the shelves. I could not find a book that had any quality, any substance. Then I came across Slatton's first novel and fell in love. If you are looking for a book that will give you that warm, fuzzy feeling when you're done this is not it.

    It is a novel that follows the seemingly dark and unfortunate life of Luca Bastardo, a boy who doesn't know his origins but he is determined to make a way for himself in the world. He befriends the famous artist, Giotto as a young boy on the streets of Florence and his life is never the same. It leads you on a wonderfully colorful and desperate search for his promised love, his parents and the meaning of life. Luca is a truly well-developed character and you find yourself wishing for his triumphs and mourning the loss of each of his friends in his unusually long lifeline.

    This book captures the dark essence of Poe, the thought provoking ideas of Wilde and Slatton's own flare for mixing fact with fiction. She didn't create Luca, he was shaped by each and every event in his life and these are the spectacular jewels that she shows us. I found myself endlessly captivated by Luca and rooting for a character as never before. I bought this book used and I can't even comprehend why anyone would want to lose this from their shelf. A truly magnificent from the very first line to the very last.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 31, 2008

    Life changing novel!

    This is one of the best books I have ever read, of any time period, by any author! From start to finish, I couldn't put this book down. And for anyone looking for something deeper than your run-of-the-mill cheap, popular thrill - Immortal is definitely for you. This novel, set in 14th century Florence, follows the unnaturally long life of Luca Bastardo, an extraordinary man searching for love and the meaning of life. Luca is not your typical hero. He lives through the most horrible, depraved of sins and goes on to pave his winding path through the exciting worlds of art and alchemy, war and power, the most uplifting love and the agonizing pain of death. Along the way, he makes friends with many famed artists and political figures of the Renaissance. Let me emphasize though that you do NOT need a background in Art History to love this book! Slatton brings one of the most exciting periods of history to life and it stands completely on its own. No one could have created a better depiction of this time. Slatton does an impeccable job of merging a fascinating story with real historical events. And you'll fall in love with each and every character on the way!

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    A strong historical fiction

    In Florence, Italy Luca Bastardo was abandoned as an infant. He survived the mean streets by begging for his meals. However, he was still a preadolescent when a vicious merchant abducted him turning him into a sex slave with no hope of escape.------------- However, in spite of his captivity, Luca discovers the worlds of art and alchemy and as he studies them with a deep intensity he also begins to look into religion and philosophy. He meets Giotto and they become close friends. He meets other artists over the decades until over a century since Giotto died he befriends da Vinci. Luca is no ordinary street urchin as the powerful malevolent Silvano family knows and blackmails him into cooperating. They have information about his parents that if provided to the Inquisition would result in Luca being burned at the stakes.-------------- IMMORTAL is a complex tale as the lead protagonist makes what he considers universal truths based on his experiences in his two centuries of life especially his interactions with artists, scientists, church leaders and politicians yet the one question he is dying to know eludes him: the origin of his life. Luca is the center to this strong historical fiction that sweeps the audience through the late medieval Plague into the Renaissance.--------- Harriet Klausner

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 31, 2009

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 16, 2012

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 1, 2008

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 27, 2009

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 9, 2009

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 19, 2014

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 1, 2009

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    Posted November 16, 2009

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