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Sally Rooney

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285 printed pages
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Impressions

  • LonLishared an impression4 years ago
    👎Give This a Miss
    💤Borrrriiinnng!

    Сказочное занудство

  • onceinbelgradeshared an impression6 years ago

    Мне очень импонирует эмоциональная закрытость и как бы заторможенность главной героини. С первых страниц начала представлять её как Дакоту Джонсон – томную и странную. Душные отношения между персонажами отталкивающе знакомы, пожалуй, каждому молодому человеку. В этом смысле роман роднится с «Девочками» Лены Данэм (очень люблю, кстати). Отстранённость Фрэнсис, которая будто смотрит фильм с собой в главной роли, мне близка. Из этого положения наблюдателя и происходит её неестественность и деланность поступков и решений. Головокружительное решение отдаться чувствам в финале – смелый шаг навстречу повзрослевшей себе или очередной поворот не туда? Этот разговор ещё не окончен.

  • mariiaskliarovashared an impression3 years ago
    👍Worth reading
    🚀Unputdownable

    i don't know... this book definitely made me feel some kind of pain. io the other hand, i appreciate the author's literature style because every paragraph sounds like a melody. Rooney's characters as always cool (and cold), sarcastic, intellectual, and full of thoughts so it does not take long to deep inside the text and read this all day long.

Quotes

  • Rubyhas quoted3 years ago
    there’s something beautiful about the way you think and feel, or the way that you experience the world is beautiful in some way.
  • Arina Koriandrhas quoted6 years ago
    I had also never tasted fresh avocado before, though I didn’t tell Nick about that.
  • Abzal Tashenovhas quoted2 years ago
    I looked out the window at the station. I had the sense that something in my life had ended, my image of myself as a whole or normal person maybe. I realised my life would be full of mundane physical suffering, and that there was nothing special about it. Suffering wouldn’t make me special, and pretending not to suffer wouldn’t make me special. Talking about it, or even writing about it, would not transform the suffering into something useful.

On the bookshelves

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