Promiscuous Unbound

Promiscuous Unbound
Автор книги: id книги: 2044702     Оценка: 0.0     Голосов: 0     Отзывы, комментарии: 0 1563,47 руб.     (17,05$) Читать книгу Купить и скачать книгу Электронная книга Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература Правообладатель и/или издательство: Ingram Дата добавления в каталог КнигаЛит: ISBN: 9781555847760 Скачать фрагмент в формате   fb2   fb2.zip Возрастное ограничение: 0+ Оглавление Отрывок из книги

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Vivienne Yellow, the unforgettable narrator of this arresting and witty debut, is an American woman who lies in traction in a Parisian hospital, her leg shattered after she was accidentally hit by a truck. Through hazy wormholes of memory, colored by her own morphine-stoked sexual longings, we are drawn into her past: Exactly what happened to her as she tried to cross rue de Cherche Midi, her wildly adulterous marriage to an emotionally distant man, and her relationship with her father, the famously charismatic naturalist Maurice Yellow. Bound to her bed and trapped by her own thoughts, Vivienne's only link to the outside world is a fellow patient, Sonia, an acid-tongued French teenager with a failing heart. Over the course of her musings, Vivienne comes to understand one thing: sex is her refuge, a notion oddly reaffirmed by the stories Sonia begins to bring her about a new patient, an innocent refugee from the Kosovo crisis who had tried to save herself by marrying the first man she met. Ribald and funny, with a rich Dorothy Parker bitterness, Promiscuous Unbound traces the relationship between memory and love and loss and reveals each woman's unorthodox search for salvation.

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Bex Brian. Promiscuous Unbound

PROMISCUOUS UNBOUND

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PROMISCUOUS UNBOUND

Have I slept? I don’t think so. I . . . hovered. Morphine sure isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Shouldn’t it be erasing the dull dread of expected pain and the claustrophobia of lying in the same position day after day? Maybe I need more. When I get out of here, I swear, I will never lie on my back again. Not even when . . . No; don’t even think about that.

.....

I want him to come to me, now, this second. To materialize. “We’re only atoms,” he often said. “A table could be a steak if it was so inclined.” Then split your atoms, Ralph. Send a copy of yourself, a ghostly apparition who will look down on me and say, “My wife, my wife, my poor wife. Look at her, all smashed to bits.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” I said sharply, not ready for the wrong of it, let alone the right.

.....

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