difficult for me to write about "Chochołach.
I've never encountered the work of Wit Szostak, and that's because the writer is dealing mainly fantasy, but that I am interested in a very limited (read: minimal) way. On "Chochoły" probably would not have looked much attention if not for a positive review of this book in the Policy ... So I bought the novel, which I did not know by just one pochlebnemu voice and intuition, which said that it is worth.
And it was worth it! Even the most, because in "Chochołach" I fell in love ... This is not love at first sight and that's because it is not a book easy, simple and enjoyable. It seems to me that this book is matured during her reading. And so, at the beginning of reading it I felt a bit lost and scared, knocked me right on the blade number of narratives in this book, I longed for the dialogues, which in "Chochołach" sometimes you have to wait several or dozens of pages, slowly, I tried to soak up the atmosphere, so lazy and other from all the others that I have met before ... Then in my adventure with this novel, there was a phase of fascination zaczytywaniu involving these 20 or 50 pages a book before bedtime, I liked the fact that there is no physical possibility to read these pages at one time more because of her style. I gave up completely seduced by the charm of "Chochołów", the sounds, smells, this lost in the House. The last phase of my encounter with this book it is this, where I realized that this is MY book that I fell in love that I will not give anyone and that I will come back, because I can not imagine not doing so! And do not be surprised to me now that I say it's hard for me to write this book ...
"Chochoły" is a story about the House by large D. Seen through the eyes of the narrator (and inhabitant of the House in one) is not just a house full of rooms, corridors , storage building and stairs, but also its people - Chocholow their appurtenances, or Rysiami and Winds. House at S. in Krakow for many years belonged to the family Chochołów. Unfortunately, after the war were deprived Chocholow home ownership, and the house has become one of the many, where unknown people are renting apartments. Fortunately, the coming new age and family Chochołów born the idea to reclaim the house, and then slowly all the apartments rented by tenants. For several years working Chocholow redeeming your objective, which is a house where everyone has his room, but at the same time everyone is together with other ... House becomes one big organism, occupied by several generations of residents, living organism, but is healthy?
Narrator books, Mulch of flesh and blood, the son of his mother's quiet and patient, chained to the bed her father, brother, his older brother, Bart, is a quiet observer and commentator on all that is happening at home. Sam could not find in life, trying to unravel the moods, relationships, relationships between the people and passions of the House, members of his family.
" I was always one step behind the place, which, as I thought I should deal with at the moment. Late, unprepared, on the run, with rozwichrzonymi questions in my head, disheveled spiritually, I always miss those five minutes, a quarter of that in the mirror przylizać unruly thoughts. Always unfinished, constantly lagging, not capable to catch up with myself "s.112.
" My thinking not ready for it forever, what to think, my forever unfinished story of this what to tell, I'm not ready for this story. This continual fear of the settlement, before the operation, before life makes a living, I pretend life, I live next to each other, imagining just how once, in the future, I live real life, I will be telling stories neatly tailored, I was the right words and tones. And so for years I have been following the animal by himself, out of the closet, seeing that the real me, me, whom I would be, is always a few steps ahead of me. I can see him missing the next turn when he comes by this corner, I notice it zanurzającego in the abyss of some gate, then closing the door behind him. And I'm standing on the steps of shortness of breath, tired of chase, with shortness of breath from the constant rush, so I'm standing, breathing hard and again, staying behind, with shortness of breath. I'm not, I'm gone, I'll just "s.112.
This is not, one that only will be asked by a lost and suffering mother to find her son and his brother, Bart. Bartek, the soul of the family, to disappear from the house without a trace and no contact with him. It Bart was in the shadow of younger brother lived so many years, becomes the reason for travel is not just the House and its parts, but it is also an excuse to visit the ancient Krakow, Krakow-Venice, after which the moving gondola obijającymi about yourself, and Cracow- Sarajevo during the war ...
hard for me to describe in words is a novel, because it can not be read to her, to enter ... We live that Krakow, the House and its residents. As they breathe, and when the book ends, something missing, want to return. Go back to the lazy, absorbing, addictive action to the House so difficult to understand, to Krakow so atmospheric ...
Written in such a way as to reflect for a moment, full of reflection, epithets, questions novel Chochoły "is a pretext for reflection of who I am, as is my sense of being what you expect from itself. Do you want to 'just be' if I want to be now ...
recommend so much that more is not possible, although I realize that not all this book will attract. And that's just the power ...:)
Ps. Only on what I regret is the amount of mistakes in the book, but that's more merit publication, to which I appeal to draw attention to this next time:)
W. Szostak, Chochoły, Publisher Lamp and writers ", Warsaw 2010, s.440.
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