Blue Sisters
Coco Mellors, 2024
Σύγχρονη πεζογραφία Λογοτεχνική πεζογραφία
Ατμόσφαιρα: θλίψη, τρυφερότητα και θαυμασμός. Μιλά για την οικογένεια, την κοινωνία και τη μνήμη.
Μια σελίδα από το βιβλίο
A sister is not a friend. Who can explain the urge to take a relationship as primal and complex as a sibling and reduce it to something as replaceable, as banal as a friend? Yet this status is used again and again to connote the highest intimacy. True sisterhood is not the same as friendship. You don’t choose each other and there is no furtive period of getting to know each other. You are a part of each other, right from the start. Look at an umbilical cord—tough, sinuous, unlovely, yet essential—and compare it to a friendship bracelet of brightly woven thread. That is the difference between a sister and a friend. Βιβλία με παρόμοια αίσθηση
Πού θα το βρεις
Από κάποιους από αυτούς τους συνδέσμους παίρνουμε μια μικρή προμήθεια, χωρίς επιπλέον κόστος για σένα. Έτσι το BookFeed μένει δωρεάν.
Ερωτήσεις αναγνωστών
- Πώς είναι το «Blue Sisters»;
- Ατμόσφαιρα: θλίψη, τρυφερότητα και θαυμασμός. Μιλά για την οικογένεια, την κοινωνία και τη μνήμη.
- Τι να διαβάσω μετά το «Blue Sisters»;
- Αν σου άρεσε το «Blue Sisters», δοκίμασε «One Italian Summer» (Rebecca Serle), «To All the Boys I've Loved Before» (Jenny Han) και «All the Dangerous Things» (Stacy Willingham).
Μια γεύση από τη ροή
The sister who decides things cleanly, and the one who can’t.
I wave a spoonful of cookie dough under Margot’s nose, and she hesitates and then opens her mouth. I feed it to her like a baby. “Wait and see, you and Josh will be back together in a day, maybe two.” But even as I’m saying it, I know it’s not true. Margot’s not the kind of girl to break up and get back together on a whim; once she’s decided something, that’s it. There’s no waffling, no regrets. It’s like she said: when she’s done, she’s just done.
To All the Boys I've Loved Before · Jenny Han
What it costs to love someone you knew was only passing through.
I had come to think of him as a library book, entering my life on rented time. Something that I could enjoy for a few hours, curled up and comfortable, devouring as much of him as possible before our time was up. And because he wasn’t mine, I couldn’t scribble in the margins or write my name on the spine; I couldn’t leave my mark on him in any discernable way.
All the Dangerous Things · Stacy Willingham
Time doesn't heal so much as hand you something to wear over the wound.
Maybe time didn’t heal wounds exactly, but it gave you a kind of armor, or a new perspective. A way to remember with a smile instead of a sob.
Night Road · Kristin Hannah
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