Παιχνιδότοπος
Richard Powers, 2025
A river, a small drowned town, a brother who never spoke. Powers writes the whole churning of life — water, guilt, fire — in one long hymn.
Powers took the title of this novel from a Marguerite Duras phrase; he won the Pulitzer Prize for 'The Overstory' in 2019.
Feels like nature, wonder and unease.
Two boats side by side, and only one of them is going home with everyone aboard.
Τὰ πλοῖα εἶχαν ἔρθει πλάι πλάι καὶ τὸ ἕνα εἶχε σβήσει τὴ μηχανή του. Οἱ διασῶστες ϕοροῦσαν ἱστιοπλοϊκὰ κασκέτα κι ἔκαναν τὴ δουλειά τους μὲ μεγάλη σοβαρότητα. Καθὼς ὁ ψαρὰς περνοῦσε ἀπὸ κοντά τους, ἐκεῖνοι ἔβγαζαν ἀπὸ τὸ νερὸ ἕναν νεκρὸ ἄντρα. ῏ηταν πολὺ ἄκαμπτος καὶ ἔμοιαζε μὲ κούκλα βιτρίνας, μόνο ποὺ εἶχε πρόσωπο. Τὸ πρόσωπο ἔμοιαζε μαλακὸ καὶ πρησμένο, καὶ εἶχε ἕναν γάντζο στὸ πλάι καὶ ἕνα παραϕρονημένο χαμόγελο. ῎Ετσι τὸν ἔβγαλαν, μὲ τὸ τσιγκέλι περασμένο μέσα ἀπὸ τὰ ζυγωματικά του. Μιὰ ὠχρὴ ἀναίμακτη πληγή. Φαινόταν σὰν νὰ διαμαρτύρεται ξύλινα, μὲ στραβὸ κεϕάλι. Richard Powers, 2025
A river, a small drowned town, a brother who never spoke. Powers writes the whole churning of life — water, guilt, fire — in one long hymn.
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