British writer, laureate of Boker, tells the story of his marriage. Exquisively, with complex allusions and historical parallels.
Julian Barnes – a British writer and critic, laureate of Buker – tells the story of his love and a thirty -year -old happy marriage, with allusions and historical parallels. The first essay of the book is the story of Nadar, the French air meter and novelist of the mid -19th century, the author of the most famous photograph of Sarah Bernard. The second part is about a short -lived novel and flights on the balloon of Bernar and Fred Bernabi herself. And only in the third part does the plan of the book open: Barnes speaks of how his wife Pet Kavan died from brain cancer in a month from cancer. The intonation of pain is unexpectedly simple, undisguised and buying up. Once Barnes wrote: “I do not believe in God, but I miss him”. He also does not believe in the possibility of a meeting: “I no longer see it, do not touch, do not hug, do not listen, not laugh;I can no longer wait for her steps, do not smile from the knock of the front door, not to adjust her body comfortably to her, and herself – to her body. “. “Life levels” – the continuation of a suddenly interrupted conversation with his beloved woman about the events of the middle of the century before last and a long letter about how he lives now, without her.
Eksmo, 192 with., 157 rub.
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