From the Embers

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Doi vechi prieteni se întîlnesc după 41 de ani într-un castel romantic, înconjurat de codri seculari. Sînt bătrîni, obosiți, s-au săturat de viață, nici ei nu mai știu dacă sînt vii. Probabil că au iubit aceeași femeie, pe Krisztina. Dar Krisztina a murit de mult. Acum se găsesc în aceeași sală cu lumînări albastre în care au stat ultima dată, în 2 iulie 1899. Vor avea o ultimă explicație. Decisivă...

What a great legacy for Richard Wagamese to leave such a special part of himself behind for us to be guided by and remind us of his teachings. Thank you for everything Richard. You were such a wonderful human being and writer. May you rest in peace. (October 14, 1955 – March 10, 2017)Speaking of curiosity, I was sooo interested in our FMC. Everything about her was a mystery and I loved discovering details about her past right alongside her. She was asking the same questions that I was asking, so it felt like we were on this journey of discovery together. I especially loved discovering with her once she made it to the Fae realm! 👀 Do you also believe that what gives our lives their meaning is the passion that suddenly invades our heart, soul and body, and burns in us forever, no matter what else happens in our lives?.... Is it indeed about desiring any one person, or is it about desiring desire itself? Or perhaps, is it indeed about desiring a particular person, a single, mysterious other, once and for always, no matter whether that person is good or bad, and the intensity of our feelings bears no relation to that individual’s qualities or behavior?

Finalul aduce aminte de întorsăturile ironice ale lui Franz Kafka. Oaspetele spune la sfîrșit: „Acum nu-ți mai răspund nici la această întrebare... Cred că am clarificat totul” (p.167). După plecarea lui Konrad, generalul mărturisește bătrînei sale doici, Nini, că se simte „mult mai liniștit” (p.172). A spus tot ce avea pe suflet, n-a primit nici un răspuns, poate că nici nu avea nevoie de el, fiindcă îl bănuia din capul locului. A graphic novel adaptation by comic book artist Niklas Asker was released on September 25, 2012. [2] Plot summary [ edit ] He receives a letter with the news that his childhood friend will visit him today… He’s waiting and recalls his life…

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I’m not here in this life to be well balanced or admired. I’m here to be an oddball, eccentric, different, wildly imaginative, creative, daring, curious, inventive and even a tad strange at times. I’m here to pray and chant and meditate and sing and find Creator in a blues riff, a sunrise, a touch or the laughter of children. I’m here to discover ME in all of that. I’m here to add clunky, chunky and funky bits of me to the swirls and swagger and churn of life and living. It demands I be authentic. So when you look out at the world, that’s me dancing in the fields… Fra di loro c'è l'impalpabile presenza di una donna, ormai defunta da decenni : un 'bel fantasma' che ha segnato la vita dei due.

Life isn't something you leave home to do. It's what you accomplish within the walls of your haven. That's what allows you to greet the world with an open heart and reach out and embrace living in all its richness, variety and staggering wonder. The world building is great and her descriptions are perfect. They didn't bore or bog me down, and kept everything crisp and clear in my mind. There are times where the pacing is odd, it would slow down and then speed up. That's probably my only complaint about the book, that and the fact that the MMC says the pet name way to many times. (But that's a personal preference). On a positive note: the pet name though is absolutely one of my favorites I've heard in a book in a while. There is this question of otherness….So just as it is blood alone that binds people to defend one another in the face of danger, on the spiritual plane one person will struggle to help another only if this person is not ‘different’, and if, quite aside from opinions and convictions, they share similar natures at the deepest level. But carved into my soul for the rest of my days would be the earth-shattering realization that the woman in my arms wasn’t my wife.there are days when haven is the long slow creep of light into the sky and you feel the world around you shrug itself into wakefulness, and within you comes a glow like you see at the rim of the sky above the trees, this rising up, this elevating of your spirit, your humanity to Creation one more time, and you surrender yourself to the crucial joining like you would to a current, bobbing and drifting, borne again into the realm of possibility hidden just beneath the surface of this ordinary day, its tidal muscle relentless until you open your eyes and walk into it, connected once again to who you are and who you can become. He came from a world where soft music lilted through dining rooms and ballrooms and salons, but not the way his friend liked it. It was played to make life sweeter and more festive, to make women’s eyes flash and men’s vanity throw sparks. Konrad’s music, on the other hand, didn’t offer forgetfulness; it aroused people to feelings of passions and guilt, and demanded that people be truer to themselves in heart and mind. Such music is upsetting. In an all-encompassing, surreal, lyrical, almost devastating monologue, Márai trounces everything supercilious, including answers, for a man at his twilight doesn’t require answers; he seeks peace. Words become mere instruments of wrapping time into bearable currents, getting their echoes despatched to silent death in the confines of a mind engaged in altering memories, if not erasing them. When a sigh can expel the biggest burden off the chest and impart purpose to one’s living, hypothesis await no longer the stamp of verification. Endurance of a life-time denudes all justifications and arguments, leaving a residue that intends to simply burn and become smoke. What initially looked like a nostalgic encounter between close friends, gradually acquires shades of darker colors that escalate in intrigue and dramatic tension until the facts that ruined the lives of these two gentlemen are brought into full light by the ruthless evidence of words. A duel without weapons is about to take place, and the enduring memory of a woman will be the point into which both men’s destinies will converge. It all reads like that. Nothing happens. Just that kind of happening which is shit. Don't think for yourself here.

Mientras en la mansión se disponen los preparativos para que todo esté “igual que antes”, el general aguarda la llegada de su invitado y rememora su vida: su infancia, las figuras casi míticas de sus padres, la academia militar donde conoció a aquel desvalido chiquillo polaco que iba a convertirse en su hermano… When every lead turns up empty, Davyna is forced to seek help from the creatures that hide in the dark. I am going to get my hands on some of his other works that have been translated into English. Here his translated works (from Wikipedia):

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Embers is a 1942 novel by the Hungarian writer Sándor Márai. Its original Hungarian title is A gyertyák csonkig égnek, which means "Candles burn until the end". The narrative revolves around an elderly general who invites an old friend from military school for dinner; the friend had disappeared mysteriously for 41 years, and the dinner begins to resemble a trial where the friend is prosecuted for his character traits. The book was published in English in 2001. [1] Reception [ edit ] Bree and Eason survive the fire that takes their partners – but neither of them are truly living after that fateful night. As a single dad with nowhere to turn, Eason moves in with Bree despite the old tensions and the new grief they share. In this waking world, I am awakened. In this easing of shadow, I reclaim the light. I am not alone here. I sit with my ancestors, singing this day into being — and I am made more. And now he's here. Embers is the first of his novels to make it into English (as usual, we lag behind the French, the Germans, the Italians and even the Americans). Yet London can lay claim to the publication of the first of Márai's works in exile, Peace in Ithaca in 1952, courtesy of a small consortium of Hungarians: Márai's fate for the next 30 years.