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slammy90's review
5.0
Libri simili fanno vacillare la mia ferma convinzione di non voler figli, giuro.. Penso a quanto sarebbe incantevole leggergli storie simili, farli divertire come matti e al contempo imparare tante cose :')
Devo decidermi a creare una Listopia con i libri per bambini/ragazzi imperdibili e inserircelo, mi è venuto il tarlo!
Mi riprometto di leggere Nesbo da una vita e.. Mai avrei pensato di iniziare con romanzi per bambini! Lo prendo come una garanzia, credo che se si sa dare tanto nei libri per bambini, non si può poi sbagliare con i libri per adulti!
La serie del Doctor Proctor è GENIALE: a parte che vi farà morire dal ridere (no, davvero, preparatevi!!).. ma poi è davvero intelligente e istruttiva: l'amicizia vera, l'amore, il sacrificio per le persone amate, il superare le difficoltà in gruppo, far parte del gruppo degli strani e dei reietti ed essere sempre comunque felice ed esuberante.. Nonché folli, folli folli invenzioni di cui l'umanità ha sicuramente un estremo bisogno!!! :D
Ogni avventura affrontata poi è davvero incredibile e mai scontata, con un sacco di chicche e di avventure! Nilly e Lisa poi.. Due dei migliori protagonisti EVER!
La rivisitazione di alcuni eventi storici grazie al famoso paradosso temporale (il doctor Proctor ha infatti inventato una vasca da bagno che, grazie ad un sapone speciale, permette di viaggiare nel tempo!) mi ha fatto morire dal ridere e ed semplicemente DELIZIOSA!
Per 1240 pagine (che passeranno velocissime e vi ritroverete in men che non si dica alla fine) Nesbo non perde un maledetto colpo e mantiene alti gli standard, non sa nemmeno lui come ci è riuscito, me lo immagino!!
Leggetelo, e leggetelo ai vostri figli!
Nilly stuck out his lower lip and made his eyes look big, as if he were on the verge of tears. This facial expression, which Nilly had practiced especially for situations like this, made him look like a tiny little, very depressed camel. Because everyone knows that it’s absolutely impossible to be mad at a very depressed camel.
“Nice drawing, boring colors,” Nilly said. “What is it?” “An invention,” Doctor Proctor said. “A break-out-of-northern-Europe’s-most-escape-proof-jail machine. With probability calculations for its chances of working.” “And what do your calculations tell you?” “Do you see that number?” the professor asked, pointing to a number that was underlined twice. “Yes,” Nilly said. “That’s a zero.” “That means the probability of escape is zero. We’re doomed.”
The Commandant’s growl made the window-panes in his office rattle. “Are you trying to convince me that some snake ate the whole crate of gunpowder?” “No, sir. The longshoreman is trying to convince me of what I’m trying to convince you, sir.”
“A seven-legged Peruvian sucking spider. They’re extremely rare!” Nilly whispered, excited. “They live by catching and sucking out the brains of other insects.” “The brains?” Lisa said, looking at Nilly. “I didn’t think insects had brains.” “Well that’s exactly why the seven-legged Peruvian sucking spider is so rare,” Nilly whispered. “It hardly ever finds any insects with brains to suck.”
“But … but then, are you really sure that we believe him? I mean, he’s nice and everything, but he’s a little … uh, crazy.” “Of course I’m sure we believe him,” Nilly said. “And Proctor isn’t a little crazy. He’s totally off-the-deep-end insane.”“Exactly,” Lisa said. “So how can you be so sure?” “Elementary, my dear Lisa. Doctor Proctor is our friend, and friends believe in each other.”
“Five hundred plus a clock for each of you,” the woman said. “For example, this clock that runs slow. Specially made for people who have too much to do. Or this one that runs fast, for people who are bored.” “Yes!” Nilly cried. “No!” Lisa said.
“I was trying to knock down the door, but I had to give up. So I ran downstairs, to that little wimp at the reception desk, and politely asked for the room key.” “And he just gave it to you?” Nilly asked in disbelief. “I asked very politely,” Raspa said. “Plus I was pointing the pistol at him.” “Oh,” Nilly said. “Good thinking.”
Lisa tossed the pitchfork aside. “Quick! Do you have a horse I can borrow?” “A horse?” the farmed scoffed. “I’m a pig farmer, not some yeehaw pony-pusher.” Lisa sighed. She looked around. A hairy, black pig—monstrous, the size of a motorcycle, with sharp tusks—had just rolled over in the manure, stood up, and was now grunting at her menacingly. Lisa sighed again. This wasn’t going to be pretty. This wasn’t going to be without risk. This was going to be pig riding.
“You followed me,” Lisa said. “Yes. I realized that one over there was never going to lead me to Victor,” Raspa said, nodding toward Nilly, who you’re probably thinking has been quiet for quite a while now, which is pretty unlike him. Nilly was lying, slumped down in the seat, and the sound that almost sounded like snoring actually was just that: snoring.
“I’ve exposed you kids to enough danger as it is. I’m a completely irresponsible adult. Didn’t you know that?” “We’re quite aware of that,” Lisa said. “But you forgot one thing.” “Right,” Nilly said. “We’re a team,” Lisa said. “There you have it,” Nilly said. “We’re a team. And we don’t care if everyone else thinks we’re a team of pathetic losers. Because we know something they don’t know. We know … we know … uh …” “We know,” Lisa took over, “that when friends promise to never stop helping each other, one plus one plus one is much more than three.”
After that I’m going to impofrise.” Lisa slowly shook her head. “What does ‘impofrise’ mean, Nilly?” Joan asked. Nilly flashed her his biggest smile. “That, my dear Joan, means that I, Sergeant Nilly, will come up with new things as soon as the things I already came up with fail.” “We just call that the Nilly Method,” Lisa mumbled as Nilly basked in Joan’s look of admiration.
“Come a little closer, so I can be sure I’ll hit you, you little gnome!” Cliché screamed at Nilly as he curled his finger around the shotgun trigger. “I’d love to help you out there, Monsieur Cliché,” Nilly said. “But considering you’re the one doing the shooting and I’m the one who’s going to be doing the dying, I think it makes the most sense for you to take a few steps closer to me.”
“We raise our hands when we want to ask a question, Nilly!” Mrs. Strobe said sternly. “Yes, I bet you do,” Nilly said. “But I don’t see how that would result in answers that were any better. My method, Mrs. Strobe, is just to plunge right in and . . . ” The tiny little red-haired and very freckled boy named Nilly raised a tiny little hand up in the air as if he were picking invisible apples. “Boom! Grab hold of the conversation, hang on to it, keep it under my control, give wings to my words and let them fly toward you . . . ”
He said, “Hm, maybe Doctor Proctor can invent some kind of imagination muffler for you, my dear.” “I’m not imagining a darn thing!” Lisa yelled crossly. Nilly gave her a friendly pat on the back. “I was just kidding. You know what the difference is between you and me, Lisa?” “No. Wait, yes. Just about everything.” “The difference, Lisa, is that as your friend, I always believe what you say. Completely.” “That,” Lisa said, “is because the difference between you and me is that I always tell the truth.”
Lisa looked down at her itty-bitty friend. He could be irritating, annoying, and run roughshod over the truth. But she didn’t know anyone braver. Sometimes he was so brave you had to wonder if he wasn’t actually a little dumb.
“Chorus?” Nilly asked. “So you guys don’t just play drums, you sing, too? Who would’ve thought so much talent could fit into such small bodies.” Truls and Trym stared at Nilly with their mouths hanging open, their breath billowing out as if from two stove chimneys. “He’s just trying to fast-talk us,” Trym whispered to his brother. “Him being nice to us.” “But . . . ,” Truls whispered. “I believe him, because he’s saying we’re good drummers, right?” “That’s because you’ve been fast-talked,” Trym whispered. “I’ve been fast-talked,” Truls nodded. “Let’s crush him now,” Trym whispered. “Crush his head!”
“Maybe you should open it?” Nilly suggested. “Or maybe you should open it,” Lisa replied. “Rock-paper-scissors,” Nilly said. They counted to three and then showed their hands. “Hah!” Lisa exclaimed triumphantly because she had chosen paper and Nilly had chosen rock. “What are you hah-ing for?” Nilly asked. “Rock beats paper.” “What?” “Didn’t you hear about it? They changed the rules at the annual meeting this October.” “They?” “Yeah, the International Rock-Paper-Scissors Association.”
“And now,” Doctor Proctor said, clapping his hands together with a smack that wasn’t anywhere near as loud, “I suggest we all sit down and get to the bottom of a few things. Which is to say, we have other things we need to do. And we don’t have much time.” “What other things?” Mr. Galvanius asked. “The usual,” Nilly said, stifling a yawn. “We have to save the world".
“We need a name! And—lucky for you guys—I’ve already come up with one. We’ll call ourselves . . . ” Nilly paused for effect as he looked around at all the expectant—and some not so expectant—faces. “ . . . The Five Vincibles!” “Uh, you mean the Invincibles, don’t you?” Mrs. Strobe asked. “The Vincibles, that’s a good one!” Gregory laughed. “Ha ha.” “No, I mean Vincibles,” Nilly said. “That’s exactly the point. We can be beaten. We’re not indestructible. But we’re going to fight anyway. That’s what’s so great about us!”
“I think,” she said slowly, “that you three are stark raving bonkers, totally unhinged, and completely insane.” “There has actually . . . ” Doctor Proctor smiled. “ . . . never been . . . ” Lisa laughed. “ . . . any doubt about that!” Nilly completed the sentence.
It was so beautiful that Lisa could only manage to think one thing: that this world was so wonderful, they just had to save it.
He saw his life flash before his eyes. There had been highs and lows, lots of fun, a couple of days that could’ve been better, but most of all there had been Jell-O, fart powder, and adventures with good friends. The short summary: a life that was way too short for a guy who was way too short. But now it was over.
Devo decidermi a creare una Listopia con i libri per bambini/ragazzi imperdibili e inserircelo, mi è venuto il tarlo!
Mi riprometto di leggere Nesbo da una vita e.. Mai avrei pensato di iniziare con romanzi per bambini! Lo prendo come una garanzia, credo che se si sa dare tanto nei libri per bambini, non si può poi sbagliare con i libri per adulti!
La serie del Doctor Proctor è GENIALE: a parte che vi farà morire dal ridere (no, davvero, preparatevi!!).. ma poi è davvero intelligente e istruttiva: l'amicizia vera, l'amore, il sacrificio per le persone amate, il superare le difficoltà in gruppo, far parte del gruppo degli strani e dei reietti ed essere sempre comunque felice ed esuberante.. Nonché folli, folli folli invenzioni di cui l'umanità ha sicuramente un estremo bisogno!!! :D
Ogni avventura affrontata poi è davvero incredibile e mai scontata, con un sacco di chicche e di avventure! Nilly e Lisa poi.. Due dei migliori protagonisti EVER!
La rivisitazione di alcuni eventi storici grazie al famoso paradosso temporale (il doctor Proctor ha infatti inventato una vasca da bagno che, grazie ad un sapone speciale, permette di viaggiare nel tempo!) mi ha fatto morire dal ridere e ed semplicemente DELIZIOSA!
Per 1240 pagine (che passeranno velocissime e vi ritroverete in men che non si dica alla fine) Nesbo non perde un maledetto colpo e mantiene alti gli standard, non sa nemmeno lui come ci è riuscito, me lo immagino!!
Leggetelo, e leggetelo ai vostri figli!
Nilly stuck out his lower lip and made his eyes look big, as if he were on the verge of tears. This facial expression, which Nilly had practiced especially for situations like this, made him look like a tiny little, very depressed camel. Because everyone knows that it’s absolutely impossible to be mad at a very depressed camel.
“Nice drawing, boring colors,” Nilly said. “What is it?” “An invention,” Doctor Proctor said. “A break-out-of-northern-Europe’s-most-escape-proof-jail machine. With probability calculations for its chances of working.” “And what do your calculations tell you?” “Do you see that number?” the professor asked, pointing to a number that was underlined twice. “Yes,” Nilly said. “That’s a zero.” “That means the probability of escape is zero. We’re doomed.”
The Commandant’s growl made the window-panes in his office rattle. “Are you trying to convince me that some snake ate the whole crate of gunpowder?” “No, sir. The longshoreman is trying to convince me of what I’m trying to convince you, sir.”
“A seven-legged Peruvian sucking spider. They’re extremely rare!” Nilly whispered, excited. “They live by catching and sucking out the brains of other insects.” “The brains?” Lisa said, looking at Nilly. “I didn’t think insects had brains.” “Well that’s exactly why the seven-legged Peruvian sucking spider is so rare,” Nilly whispered. “It hardly ever finds any insects with brains to suck.”
“But … but then, are you really sure that we believe him? I mean, he’s nice and everything, but he’s a little … uh, crazy.” “Of course I’m sure we believe him,” Nilly said. “And Proctor isn’t a little crazy. He’s totally off-the-deep-end insane.”“Exactly,” Lisa said. “So how can you be so sure?” “Elementary, my dear Lisa. Doctor Proctor is our friend, and friends believe in each other.”
“Five hundred plus a clock for each of you,” the woman said. “For example, this clock that runs slow. Specially made for people who have too much to do. Or this one that runs fast, for people who are bored.” “Yes!” Nilly cried. “No!” Lisa said.
“I was trying to knock down the door, but I had to give up. So I ran downstairs, to that little wimp at the reception desk, and politely asked for the room key.” “And he just gave it to you?” Nilly asked in disbelief. “I asked very politely,” Raspa said. “Plus I was pointing the pistol at him.” “Oh,” Nilly said. “Good thinking.”
Lisa tossed the pitchfork aside. “Quick! Do you have a horse I can borrow?” “A horse?” the farmed scoffed. “I’m a pig farmer, not some yeehaw pony-pusher.” Lisa sighed. She looked around. A hairy, black pig—monstrous, the size of a motorcycle, with sharp tusks—had just rolled over in the manure, stood up, and was now grunting at her menacingly. Lisa sighed again. This wasn’t going to be pretty. This wasn’t going to be without risk. This was going to be pig riding.
“You followed me,” Lisa said. “Yes. I realized that one over there was never going to lead me to Victor,” Raspa said, nodding toward Nilly, who you’re probably thinking has been quiet for quite a while now, which is pretty unlike him. Nilly was lying, slumped down in the seat, and the sound that almost sounded like snoring actually was just that: snoring.
“I’ve exposed you kids to enough danger as it is. I’m a completely irresponsible adult. Didn’t you know that?” “We’re quite aware of that,” Lisa said. “But you forgot one thing.” “Right,” Nilly said. “We’re a team,” Lisa said. “There you have it,” Nilly said. “We’re a team. And we don’t care if everyone else thinks we’re a team of pathetic losers. Because we know something they don’t know. We know … we know … uh …” “We know,” Lisa took over, “that when friends promise to never stop helping each other, one plus one plus one is much more than three.”
After that I’m going to impofrise.” Lisa slowly shook her head. “What does ‘impofrise’ mean, Nilly?” Joan asked. Nilly flashed her his biggest smile. “That, my dear Joan, means that I, Sergeant Nilly, will come up with new things as soon as the things I already came up with fail.” “We just call that the Nilly Method,” Lisa mumbled as Nilly basked in Joan’s look of admiration.
“Come a little closer, so I can be sure I’ll hit you, you little gnome!” Cliché screamed at Nilly as he curled his finger around the shotgun trigger. “I’d love to help you out there, Monsieur Cliché,” Nilly said. “But considering you’re the one doing the shooting and I’m the one who’s going to be doing the dying, I think it makes the most sense for you to take a few steps closer to me.”
“We raise our hands when we want to ask a question, Nilly!” Mrs. Strobe said sternly. “Yes, I bet you do,” Nilly said. “But I don’t see how that would result in answers that were any better. My method, Mrs. Strobe, is just to plunge right in and . . . ” The tiny little red-haired and very freckled boy named Nilly raised a tiny little hand up in the air as if he were picking invisible apples. “Boom! Grab hold of the conversation, hang on to it, keep it under my control, give wings to my words and let them fly toward you . . . ”
He said, “Hm, maybe Doctor Proctor can invent some kind of imagination muffler for you, my dear.” “I’m not imagining a darn thing!” Lisa yelled crossly. Nilly gave her a friendly pat on the back. “I was just kidding. You know what the difference is between you and me, Lisa?” “No. Wait, yes. Just about everything.” “The difference, Lisa, is that as your friend, I always believe what you say. Completely.” “That,” Lisa said, “is because the difference between you and me is that I always tell the truth.”
Lisa looked down at her itty-bitty friend. He could be irritating, annoying, and run roughshod over the truth. But she didn’t know anyone braver. Sometimes he was so brave you had to wonder if he wasn’t actually a little dumb.
“Chorus?” Nilly asked. “So you guys don’t just play drums, you sing, too? Who would’ve thought so much talent could fit into such small bodies.” Truls and Trym stared at Nilly with their mouths hanging open, their breath billowing out as if from two stove chimneys. “He’s just trying to fast-talk us,” Trym whispered to his brother. “Him being nice to us.” “But . . . ,” Truls whispered. “I believe him, because he’s saying we’re good drummers, right?” “That’s because you’ve been fast-talked,” Trym whispered. “I’ve been fast-talked,” Truls nodded. “Let’s crush him now,” Trym whispered. “Crush his head!”
“Maybe you should open it?” Nilly suggested. “Or maybe you should open it,” Lisa replied. “Rock-paper-scissors,” Nilly said. They counted to three and then showed their hands. “Hah!” Lisa exclaimed triumphantly because she had chosen paper and Nilly had chosen rock. “What are you hah-ing for?” Nilly asked. “Rock beats paper.” “What?” “Didn’t you hear about it? They changed the rules at the annual meeting this October.” “They?” “Yeah, the International Rock-Paper-Scissors Association.”
“And now,” Doctor Proctor said, clapping his hands together with a smack that wasn’t anywhere near as loud, “I suggest we all sit down and get to the bottom of a few things. Which is to say, we have other things we need to do. And we don’t have much time.” “What other things?” Mr. Galvanius asked. “The usual,” Nilly said, stifling a yawn. “We have to save the world".
“We need a name! And—lucky for you guys—I’ve already come up with one. We’ll call ourselves . . . ” Nilly paused for effect as he looked around at all the expectant—and some not so expectant—faces. “ . . . The Five Vincibles!” “Uh, you mean the Invincibles, don’t you?” Mrs. Strobe asked. “The Vincibles, that’s a good one!” Gregory laughed. “Ha ha.” “No, I mean Vincibles,” Nilly said. “That’s exactly the point. We can be beaten. We’re not indestructible. But we’re going to fight anyway. That’s what’s so great about us!”
“I think,” she said slowly, “that you three are stark raving bonkers, totally unhinged, and completely insane.” “There has actually . . . ” Doctor Proctor smiled. “ . . . never been . . . ” Lisa laughed. “ . . . any doubt about that!” Nilly completed the sentence.
It was so beautiful that Lisa could only manage to think one thing: that this world was so wonderful, they just had to save it.
He saw his life flash before his eyes. There had been highs and lows, lots of fun, a couple of days that could’ve been better, but most of all there had been Jell-O, fart powder, and adventures with good friends. The short summary: a life that was way too short for a guy who was way too short. But now it was over.
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