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USA, tidlig på åttitallet. Madeleine er litteraturstudent på universitetet. Mens medstudentene er mest opptatt av å diskutere Derrida og plukke klassikerne fra hverandre, går hun motsatt vei. Madeleine skriver oppgave om Jane Austen og George Eliot og leser helst 1800-tallsromaner om kysekledde unge kvinner i gifteklar alder, med minst to unge beilere. Fiksjonen innhenter virkeligheten da to veldig forskjellige menn blander seg inn i livet hennes.
Omtale fra forlaget
USA, tidlig på åttitallet. Madeleine er litteraturstudent på universitetet. Mens medstudentene er mest opptatt av å diskutere Derrida og plukke klassikerne fra hverandre, går hun motsatt vei. Madeleine skriver oppgave om Jane Austen og George Eliot og leser helst 1800-tallsromaner om kysekledde unge kvinner i gifteklar alder, med minst to unge beilere. Fiksjonen innhenter virkeligheten da to veldig forskjellige menn blander seg inn i livet hennes.
Utgivelsesår 2011
Format Heftet
ISBN13 9780374533250
EAN 9780374533250
Omtalt tid 1980-1989
Omtalt sted USA
Språk Engelsk
Utgave 1
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Er vanligvis ikke så begeistra for amerikansk litteratur og college og narkotika, men denne fortjener Pulitzerprisen. Tittelen henspeiler på den ene hovedpersonens fascinasjon for kvinnelige forfattere som skrev mellom årene1800 og 1900. Om hun gifter seg senere i boka vites ikke, men det er kandidater. Egentlig har boka 3 hovedpersoner, nevnte Madeleine og to av hennes kjærester; Matthew og Leonard. Jeg leser den norske utgaven.
Madeleine had the book in her lap. With her right hand she was eating peanut butter straight from the jar. The spoon fit perfectly against the curve of her upper palate, allowing the peanut butter to dissolve creamily against her tongue.
They went to a café for breakfast. Leonard was on his best behavior, pulling out her chair, buying her a Paris Match from the newsstand, offering her a brioche from the basket.
"Listen, a girl's not a watermelon you plug a hole in to see if it's sweet."
"You don't? Never had a little slice of Wisconsin cheddar with your apple pie? I'm sorry to hear that."
[...]
Finally, the waitress came over. Madeleine ordered the cottage cheese plate and coffee. Leonard ordered apple pie and coffee. When the waitress left, he spun his stool rightward, so that their knees briefly touched.
"How very female of you," he said.
"Sorry?"
"Cottage cheese."
"I like cottage cheese."
In Madeleine's face was a stupidity Mitchell had never seen before. It was the stupidity of all normal people. It was the stupidity of the fortunate and beautiful, of everybody who got what they wanted in life and so remained unremarkable.
[S]he joined Kelly at the drinks table, which was lined with Jim Beam bottles, Oreo cookies, glasses, and ice.
"Two coffees please," Madeleine said, smiling. "And my husband would like some apple pie with a slice of cheddar cheese on top."
The speed with which he left the railways office and went about buying provisions for his trip was like that of someone making a getaway. He bought bottled water, mandarins, a chocolate bar, a package of biscuits, and a hunk of strangely crumbly cheese. He still ahdn't had lunch, so he stopped at a restaurant for a bowl of vegetable curry and parathi.
Throughout this discussion Mitchell busied himself with buttering toast and dropping cubes of raw sugar into his teacup. It was important to scarf down as much toast as possible before the waiters stopped serving.
The restaurant on the corner, catering to backpacker tastes, served banana pancakes and hamburgers made from water buffalo.