The Raven

by Edgar Allan Poe Narrated by Laura Madsen

Overview

Step into the midnight gloom where the shadows whisper secrets and the air pulses with an otherworldly rhythm. The Raven isn't just a poem; it's a descent into the labyrinth of loss and longing, where a single word-nevermore-echoes like a heartbeat in the void. Edgar Allan Poe masterfully crafts a symphony of despair, weaving melancholy into each verse until it drips with haunting beauty. This is not a tale of answers but of unyielding questions. Who truly haunts this chamber-the raven, the memory of Lenore, or the narrator's unraveling mind? As the candlelight flickers, Poe invites us to linger in the darkness, daring us to find solace or terror in its depths. Here, the familiar becomes strange, and the boundaries between reality and imagination blur into a dreamscape of chilling wonder.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

(Price's pictures) do a great job of evoking the brooding guilt, terror, and love in Poe's famous poem ... lengthy appended notes will spark discussion on both the poem and the art.—Booklist

Price's vision of The Raven not only haunts, but also brings Poe's work back to life. An ideal resource for teachers and students.—School Library Journal

Price's illustrations make the viewer pause and consider the cracks in the narrator's mind, and they provide glimpses into the strange, violent story behind his torment.—Toronto Star

Product Details

BN ID:	2940193488330
Publisher:	Strelbytskyy Multimedia Publishing
Publication date:	12/13/2024
Edition description:	Unabridged
Age Range:	12 - 17 Years

Read an Excerpt

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

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