- Verlag: Soundelux Audio Publishing; Auflage: Abridged (1. November 1997)
- Sprache: Englisch
- ISBN-10: 1559353015
- ISBN-13: 978-1559353014
- Größe und/oder Gewicht: 10,8 x 1,9 x 17,8 cm
- Durchschnittliche Kundenbewertung: 25 Kundenrezensionen
Dreams of My Russian Summers (Englisch) Hörkassette – Gekürzte Ausgabe, Audiobook
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Each summer, Andrei Makine's narrator and his sister leave the Soviet Union for the mythical land of France-Atlantis. That this country is a beautiful confabulation, a consolation existing only in his maternal grandmother's mind, makes it no less real. Though Charlotte Lemonnier lives in a town on the edge of the steppe, each night she journeys to a long-ago Paris, telling tales that the children then translate with their more Russian minds: "The president of the Republic was bound to have something Stalinesque about him in the portrait sketched by our imagination. Neuilly was peopled with kolkhozniks. And the slow emergence of Paris from the waters evoked a very Russian emotion--that of fleeting relief after one more historic cataclysm ..."
Makine's first novel is a singing tribute to the alchemy of inspiration, but it is no less familiar with the sorrows of reality. And it is only as he gets older that the narrator begins to piece together his grandmother's far more tragic past--her experiences in the Great War, the October Revolution, and after. Dreams of My Russian Summers is a love letter to an extraordinary woman (it's hard not to see the book as autobiographical) as well as to language and literature, which the boy turns to in avoidance of history's manipulations. It has all the marks of an instant classic. -- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine vergriffene oder nicht verfügbare Ausgabe dieses Titels.
'A superb novel about fantasy and reality...It is Makine's achievement to convey the essential, with economy, grace and beauty' -- Scotsman 'Great literature, necessary and profound' -- Independent 'He communicates brilliantly the exquisite agony of nostalgia' -- Literary Review 'Beautifully written...A deceptively profound novel. Makine's wonderful economy of image and phrase convey far more than one could think possible about the Russian soul' -- Daily Telegraph -- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine vergriffene oder nicht verfügbare Ausgabe dieses Titels.Alle Produktbeschreibungen
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The novel deals with the way in which simultaneous exposure to an imaginary French culture and to a rough Soviet reality ends up making a writer out of an intelligent and sensitive young boy.
Remembering things past is of essence here and sure enough there is an Albertine and even Marcel Proust puts in a cameo appearance, just in case Albertine is not enough of a household name.
Each and every item retrieved from that Siberian suitcase makes a deep impact on the impressionable young boy. Most effects are quite predictable and some of the dialogue, such as the oft recurring "the Kukushka hasn't gone past this evening" is unintentionally reminiscent of Anouilh's famous, admittedly benign, Chekhov parody.
In this book every suitcase item ultimately finds a match in a trait or an event in the boy's life. By page 238 in this 241 page book there is precisely one such item not accounted for, the picture of the woman in the padded jacket. One hopes against hope that the author does not want us to believe that every item has a real life correspondent. Yet, there he goes again and in the remaining two and a quarter pages this item leads to a "shocking revelation". Again unintentionally, what is shocking is that what he reveals is what anybody with the possible exception of the dunce hunk Pashka, has guessed long ago. Not only does this revelation take care of the last item in the Siberian suitcase, it even "explains" why the boy's "first childhood memory" involves "gossamer threads". Though Proust might not approve, as far as this boy --- it would be very hard to call him human being --- is concerned, everything has been accounted for. The author seems unable to put himself beyond such naive Stalinist determinism.
In the author's defense it could be said that he is writing for French readers and that the French are a rational, indeed Cartesian lot. But in matters of the heart and of the soul reason is not the crucial ingredient as any Frenchman will tell you, for after all, in such matters the French are second to none.
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