Girl with a Pearl Earring
Tracy Chevalier, 1999
Ιστορικά μυθιστορήματα Σύγχρονη πεζογραφίαΙστορίαΛογοτεχνική πεζογραφία
Ατμόσφαιρα: λαχτάρα και περιέργεια. Μιλά για την τέχνη και το σπίτι.
Μια σελίδα από το βιβλίο
Frans, Agnes, and I used to sit along that canal and throw things in—pebbles, sticks, once a broken tile—and imagine what they might touch on the bottom—not fish, but creatures from our imagination, with many eyes, scales, hands and fins. Frans thought up the most interesting monsters. Agnes was the most frightened. I always stopped the game, too inclined to see things as they were to be able to think up things that were not. 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 «Girl with a Pearl Earring»;
- Ατμόσφαιρα: λαχτάρα και περιέργεια. Μιλά για την τέχνη και το σπίτι.
- Τι να διαβάσω μετά το «Girl with a Pearl Earring»;
- Αν σου άρεσε το «Girl with a Pearl Earring», δοκίμασε «Το τραγούδι του κορυδαλλού» (Willa Cather), «Bel Canto» (Ann Patchett) και «The Goldfinch» (Donna Tartt).
Μια γεύση από τη ροή
Where you keep your real life while you go out and meet obligations.
He believed that life, true life, was something that was stored in music. True life was kept safe in the lines of Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin while you went out in the world and met the obligations required of you. Certainly he knew (though did not completely understand) that opera wasn’t for everyone, but for everyone he hoped there was something. The records he cherished, the rare opportunities to see a live performance, those were the marks by which he gauged his ability to love.
Bel Canto · Ann Patchett
A case for wading straight through the worst of it, eyes open.
That life - whatever else it is - is short. That fate is cruel but maybe not random. That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open. And in the midst of our dying, as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch.
The Goldfinch · Donna Tartt
Maybe a life is not one self but a crowd you keep adding to.
Or maybe a person is just made up of a lot of people,” I say. “Maybe we’re accumulating these new selves all the time.” Hauling them in as we make choices, good and bad, as we screw up, step up, lose our minds, find our minds, fall apart, fall in love, as we grieve, grow, retreat from the world, dive into the world, as we make things, as we break things.
I'll Give You the Sun · Jandy Nelson
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