Мне нравятся решительно все книги Линды Гиллард, которые я читала. Раньше я уже писала про ее Emotional Geology и про Star Gazing. Сюжет этой - человеческие отношения, напоминающие спутанный клубок рыболовных крючков. Распутывать бесполезно и опасно, будет очень больно. Пламя страсти длиною в жизнь. Страсти запретной и преступной. Но не только. Есть еще любовь тихая, самоотверженная, укрощенная, горячая - сколько эпитетов, столько персонажей, которые все это испытывают. Есть просто повседневная жизнь и очень надежное человеческое тепло. Тот же вечный огонь, но горящий ровно, верно и незримо. В сущности то, что люди часто недооценивают. Но главное - мятущаяся душа героини, ее жажда, ее неугасимое пламя. Она сродни цветаевской Марусе из "Молодца" - "Сына продай, мужа отринь..." И что-то в ней есть от Кэтрин Эрншо. Жуть...м-да... но кровь будоражит почище алкоголя. Еще в романе много музыки. Она там играет очень значительную роль, как просто фон и как часть судьбы одного из главных героев.
И да, Гиллард несомненно хороший психолог и тонкий наблюдатель.
Пассаж трудный для перевода.
Брат (Рори), сестра (Флора) и муж сестры (Хью, которого Рори ненавидит) играют в скраббл:
- I'll help poor old Hugh, then.
- Poor old Hugh doesn't need any help, thanks very much, - Hugh said amiably.
- With three Os and an X? I admire your confidence, - Rory stabbed at the board with a long forefinger. - You could make "moron".
- Trust you, to think of that, - Flora said as she help herself to more brandy.
Rory looked up.
- Well, it would get him a double word score and it strikes me he needs all the help ne can get.
Ignoring him, Hugh leaned across the card table and placed several tiles on the board. Rory's mouth fell open.
- Oxymoron? What the hell is that? - He held out his hand. - Dictionary please, Ma. The man's desperate.
- It's a figure of speech, - Hugh said calmly. - When you put two words of opposite meaning together for effect. "Organised chaos", that sort of thing. Look it up if you like.
- Oh, well done, Hugh! - Dora exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
Hugh added up his score, which was impressive.
- But thanks anyway, Rory.
- What for?
- Your suggestion.
Flora whooped with laughter and drank her brandy.
Хью и его маленький сын Тео.
Theo turned the pages of his book, looking for the story he wanted.
- D'you love me more than God? (Хью - священник)
Hugh was silent for only a moment as he deliberated, then decided to say what Theo wanted to hear. He quieted his conscience with the excuse that the boy couldn't understand an answer of any greater complexity.
- Yes, Theo, - Hugh said softly, - I love you more than God.
He realised, with something of a shock, that what he said was true.
Theo settled back against Hugh's chest and put his thumb in his mouth. He removed it suddenly with a little popping sound.
- D'you love me more than Mummy?
Above their heads Hugh could hear Flora upstairs, her footsteps travelling back and forth, emptying Theo's bath, tidying toys, drawing curtains.
- No, Theo... I love Mummy just as much as I love you. I love you both the same.
With another shock Hugh realised he'd just lied.
Рори и его тихая незамужняя тетя Этти попали в автокатастрофу. Этти погибла. Рори выжил, но раздробил правую руку, что для него, знаменитого пианиста, равносильно смерти.
Мысли его сестры-близнеца Флоры:
I was angry but I didn't really understand why. I was angry that the accident had happened, that it wasn't even Rory's fault, but I was also angry that I didn't know how to grieve. I felt Rory had somehow been cheated - of his life and career but also of the family's grief. His loss was eclipsed by Ettie's gruesome death, by her funeral, by the empty chair at Orchard Farm.
But at the same time I felt poor Ettie had been cheated too - and not just by her premature death. Life had cheated Ettie. Even in death she had to share her tragedy with Rory.
И мое любимое. О Грейс, жене Рори, тоже пианистке.
Among the female members of the PTA (Parents Teacher Association - родительский комитет) it was generaly agreed that Grace Dunbar was a stuck-up bitch. The lone male on the committee thought she was a handsome and intelligent woman, clearly wasted as a stay-at-home mother, but the other women (mostly stay-at-home mothers) thought she was a snob who traded on the celebrity of her musical husband, whom they conceded was a handsome and intelligent man. Grace made few concessions to motherhood. She loved her children but loathed the rest of the package. Most of the conversations she had were with young children or the mothers of young children and she felt as if her brain were gradually turning to the consistensy of the sago pudding, she'd so hated at school. Grace and the other mothers discussed mixed feeding, toilet training and the shocking price of anoraks. They stood shivering in the rain at the school gates - why did it always start to rain at a quarter to three? - relating the minor catastrophes of their lives: a broken washing machine, an outbreak of measles, a surprise visitation from the in-laws. The women huddled together and, when they were discussing diets, talked about food: the price of food, the preparation of food, the consumption of food and the subsequent clearing up of food. They compared one product with another, making personal recommendations which were duly noted. Once three mothers with prams carried out an impromptu survey of fish fingers. Price, quality and nutritional value were compared until eventually they all agreed that one particular brand stood head and shoulders above the rest. Grace, who'd been listening in silence with mounting disbelief, was asked for her opinion but was saved by the bell - literally - as pupils suddenly poured through the door into the playground.
After the fish-finger debate Grace abandoned her attempts to conform, standing apart from the other women and, when it wasn't raining, reading a book until Colin and Charlotte emerged. But she could still hear women's chatter and felt mentally contaminated. She gathered that the price of anoraks just went up and up.