Η αρραβωνιαστικιά του Αχιλλέα
Άλκη Ζέη, 1979
★ 4.17 from 1.3k ratings on Goodreads
A 42-year-old extra on a French film set keeps falling back into the Occupation, into a basement print shop, and into the boy who made her a conspirator. Paris 1968, memory as a second life. Let the book be its own witness. Let it stand. Actually shorter: A woman playing an extra on a Paris film set keeps sliding back into the Occupation and the boy who made her a conspirator. Memory, war, first love, all in a voice that talks to you. A woman in Paris keeps slipping into wartime memory, and the voice stays tender, unhurried, and close to your ear.
Feels like longing, tenderness and wonder. About memory, identity and war.
Who it’s for
You may enjoy this if you like wartime stories told through one woman’s memories and a voice that mixes longing with everyday detail. Be aware that some readers find the pacing slow and the protagonist frustrating.
Why read it
It shows how political upheaval and first love stay folded into a life, and why memory can feel like a second country.
A page from the book
Learning someone's name by heart, without ever saying it aloud.
Μέσα στο τρένο, Ιταλοί στρατιώτες, Γερμανοί αξιωματικοί, ασφαλίτες, μαυραγορίτες, κι άλλος κόσμος, άπλυτος. Οι ντύσες των βιβλίων μου γεμάτες χαρτάκια. Δεν φοβάμαι. Δεν με νοιάζει που είμαι στριμωγμένη. Το μάγουλό μου ακουμπάει στο σακάκι του από σαμαροσκούτι. Έχει φουντώσει το μάγουλό μου από το τραχύ ύφασμα. Μ’ αρέσει. Σίγουρα δεν τον λένε Αχιλλέα, μα του ταιριάζει. Ποτέ δεν θα τον πω με άλλο όνομα. Αν δεν ήτανε αντισυνωμοτικό, θα γέμιζα τα περιθώρια των βιβλίων μου: ΑΧΙΛΛΕΑΣ, ΑΧΙΛΛΕΑΣ . Πλάι στις εξισώσεις της άλγεβρας. Να μπορούσα να του πω πως το πραγματικό μου όνομα είναι Δάφνη! Ο Πάνος πάλι φταίει. «Πρέπει να πάρεις ψευδώνυμο, για συνωμοτικούς λόγους», μου είπε μόλις μ’ έγραψε στην οργάνωση. What readers say
Readers say the novel is a moving, humane blend of historical upheaval and personal life, often praised for its vivid portrayal. Some find the pacing slow and the protagonist or ending frustrating, so reactions are warm but not unanimous.
Άλκη Ζέη.Ζέη wrote this novel in Parisian exile under the colonels' dictatorship; its title comes from a real phrase used by Greek political refugees in Tashkent about a comrade's fiancée.
Books that feel like this
More by Άλκη Ζέη
Με μολύβι φάμπερ νούμερο δύο
Άλκη Ζέη, 2013
A writer retraces the people, homes and freedoms that shaped her, finding the small family scenes that history leaves behind.
Where to get it
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Questions readers ask
- Is Η αρραβωνιαστικιά του Αχιλλέα for me?
- You may enjoy this if you like wartime stories told through one woman’s memories and a voice that mixes longing with everyday detail. Be aware that some readers find the pacing slow and the protagonist frustrating.
- What is Η αρραβωνιαστικιά του Αχιλλέα like?
- A woman in Paris keeps slipping into wartime memory, and the voice stays tender, unhurried, and close to your ear. Feels like longing, tenderness and wonder. About memory, identity and war.
- What should I read after Η αρραβωνιαστικιά του Αχιλλέα?
- If you liked Η αρραβωνιαστικιά του Αχιλλέα, try The Song of Achilles (Madeline Miller), Norwegian Wood (Haruki Murakami) and The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue (V.E. Schwab).
A taste of the feed
To know someone so well that sight becomes optional.
I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
The Song of Achilles · Madeline Miller
The difference between being remembered and being known.
Last night, she told him hers was Jess. She lied, but only because she can’t say her real name—one of the vicious little details tucked like nettles in the grass. Hidden barbs designed to sting. What is a person, if not the marks they leave behind? She has learned to step between the thorny weeds, but there are some cuts that cannot be avoided—a memory, a photograph, a name.
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue · V.E. Schwab
What a house becomes when no one has been living in it.
“It was raining when Rahel came back to Ayemenem. Slanting silver ropes slammed into loose earth, plowing it up like gunfire. The old house on the hill wore its steep, gabled roof pulled over its ears like a low hat. The walls, streaked with moss, had grown soft, and bulged a little with dampness that seeped up from the ground. The wild, overgrown garden was full of the whisper and scurry of small lives. In the undergrowth a rat snake rubbed itself against a glistening stone. Hopeful yellow bullfrogs cruised the scummy pond for mates. A drenched mongoose flashed across the leaf strewn driveway.
The God of Small Things · Arundhati Roy
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