欧宝娱乐

This book astonishes me for the way in which it is written. Without quotation marks, the words said by the characters of the story seam to merge seamlessly into the narrators voice. I wonder if that is grammatically right or it happens to be just another aesthetic aspect of the book. The plot is hazy, the characters lack any goal or agenda. They just exist among other things. The entire book is about one image : that of isolation. A profound isolation brings along with it a profound chaos. One that can't be tolerated or brought back to equilibrium. Hence, the book aptly starts and ends in chaos.

The characters in this story are distracted by their surroundings. They flit between reality and their imagined words. The story stands out in my memory for its incoherence. There is no plan for the protagonist in this story Irene. Her complex love and self conversations amaze me. The images and comparisons of objects that Muller paints vis-a- vis Irene's moods/ emotions is are brilliant.

"Irene pushed up her sleeve. She looked at her watch. Instead of dials , Irene saw an endless connection on the dial. A jerky movement that distributing itself equally over things that were present and people who were absent."

She is in conflict with her old self and present. Her love for a younger Franz and bisexual Thomas entangle her in a conundrum. The image that Muller creates in the end where Irene is unable to distinguish the two faces and the words spoken created a vivid image inside my head.

I also love the strangers in the background that Muller describes in a quirky way. Strangers are a compass for Irene in the story. At some point she says : "Irene knew that a time would come when the dead and the living would be equally divided." She views herself as a flawed being who is unable to come to terms with the changing world around her.

I would read this book again for its images and chaos. A beautiful chaos with a dark shade of sorrow painted all over it.