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Bezig met laden... Rookdoor Jane Rusbridge
Same Title (79) Bezig met laden...
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Nora has come home to the Sussex coast where, every dawn, she runs along the creek path to the sea. In the half-light, fragments of cello music crash around in her mind, but she casts them out - it's more than a year since she performed in public. There are memories she must banish in order to survive- a charismatic teacher with gold-flecked eyes, a mistake she cannot unmake. At home her mother Ada is waiting- a fragile, bitter woman who distils for herself a glamorous past as she smokes French cigarettes in her unkempt garden. In the village of Bosham the future is invading. A charming young documentary maker has arrived to shoot a film about King Cnut and his cherished but illegitimate daughter, whose body is buried under the flagstones of the local church. As Jonny disturbs the fabric of the village, digging up tales of ancient battles and burials, the threads lead back to home, and Ada and Nora find themselves face to face with the shameful secrets they had so carefully buried. One day, Nora finds a half-dead fledgeling in a ditch. She brings him home and, over the hot summer months, cradles Rook back to life. A mesmerising story of family, legacy and turning back the tides, Rook beautifully evokes the shifting Sussex sands, and the rich seam of history lying just beneath them. Geen bibliotheekbeschrijvingen gevonden. |
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Google Books — Bezig met laden... GenresDewey Decimale Classificatie (DDC)823.92Literature English English fiction Modern Period 2000-LC-classificatieWaarderingGemiddelde:
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For the first quarter of the novel, I thought it might be about a woman is mental disturbed and that the author similarly was. But I’ll leave that up in the air. I am a male – a gay male – and nudging 75 years. Along with and perhaps a might better than Virginia Wolff in her brilliant ‘To the Lighthouse’ this novel is revelatory. At the quarter mark the Canute and Harold part come in and there is then an interplay between the present and Nora and Ada’s lives. In the end, for me, this was a novel of the temperament, intelligence, disposition and view within the experience of women and of their world and the place they see men, as an add on, in it. And that vision; that cognisant knowledge of the world and of men in it , I’d have to say, is utterly different to how men experience the world and also how men think women experience reality.
To that end I hope more men might read this novel. ( )