Memoirs of a Geisha
Arthur Golden, 1997
Ιστορικά μυθιστορήματα ΙστορίαΣύγχρονη πεζογραφίαΡομαντικά
Ατμόσφαιρα: λαχτάρα, νοσταλγία και μελαγχολία. Μιλά για τη μνήμη, την ταυτότητα και την κοινωνία.
Μια σελίδα από το βιβλίο
In our little fishing village of Yoroido, I lived in what I called a “tipsy house.” It stood near a cliff where the wind off the ocean was always blowing. As a child it seemed to me as if the ocean had caught a terrible cold, because it was always wheezing and there would be spells when it let out a huge sneeze — which is to say there was a burst of wind with a tremendous spray. I decided our tiny house must have been offended by the ocean sneezing in its face from time to time, and took to leaning back because it wanted to get out of the way. Probably it would have collapsed if my father hadn’t cut a timber from a wrecked fishing boat to prop up the eaves, which made the house look like a tipsy old man leaning on his crutch. 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 «Memoirs of a Geisha»;
- Ατμόσφαιρα: λαχτάρα, νοσταλγία και μελαγχολία. Μιλά για τη μνήμη, την ταυτότητα και την κοινωνία.
- Τι να διαβάσω μετά το «Memoirs of a Geisha»;
- Αν σου άρεσε το «Memoirs of a Geisha», δοκίμασε «Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet» (Jamie Ford), «Ο μεγάλος Γκάτσμπι» (F. Scott Fitzgerald) και «Norwegian Wood» (Haruki Murakami).
Μια γεύση από τη ροή
Some kinds of care are a controlled descent, steered as gently as possible.
But choosing to lovingly care for her was like steering a plane into a mountain as gently as possible. The crash is imminent; it’s how you spend your time on the way down that counts.
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet · Jamie Ford
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
Μια πόλη χτίζει περισσότερες κερκίδες απ’ όσους έχει κατοίκους.
Ten thousand seats up in the bleachers, for a town with a population of eight thousand. The math had never worked. But they piled in from the county, from out in the sticks where there was nothing else to do on Friday night. They got their paychecks and bought their beer, and they came to town, to The Field where they clustered in one raucous pack at the north end of the stands and made more noise than the students, the band, and the townsfolk combined.
Bleachers · John Grisham
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