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Javier Marías
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Mañana en la batalla piensa en mí

4.02  ·  Rating details ·  3,287 Ratings  ·  331 Reviews
Víctor, a ghostwriter, is just about to have an affair with Marta, a married woman, when - in the bedroom, half-undressed - she drops dead in his arms. He panics and slips away. But Marta's family are all too aware that she was not alone when she died, and Deán, the widowed husband, is determined to find out who was sharing her bed that night. Víctor, accustomed to a life ...more
ebook, 0 pages
Published April 6th 2011 by Santillana Ediciones Generales, S.L. (first published 1994)
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Mar 05, 2012 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Recommends it for: The dark back of time
Recommended to s.p by: Mike Puma
It is unbearable that people we know should suddenly be relegated to the past.

Death is inevitable. From the very first page of Javier Marías’ flawlessly executed novel ‘Tomorrow In the Battle Think On Me’, death becomes a constant companion to the reader, always whispering in our ear the truths of our impermanence and the endless variety of possible deaths that await us – horrible deaths, ridiculous deaths, death that may make a stranger laugh when they read it in the paper. ‘Any dead life las
Mike Puma

Incredible! In-freakin’-credible.! This is one of those titles you want to recommend to everyone, but you know damned well that it isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea—one of those novels that folds up on itself into something origami-like—a piece of paper manipulated into a work of art something like this: descriptioneven if your own look more like this: description ( my paper birds have wings that flap)

Why do you read? Why do you read what you read? When you pick up a novel for the first time, do you think ‘thi

Steven  Godin
Feb 07, 2017 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Shelves: fiction, spanish
He must have thought his luck was in, they arranged to meet around her place, she had a two year old son, who was hopefully now off in the land of dreams, just the two of them alone in her bedroom, the muted TV is playing an old black and white movie with subtitles, after a few glasses of wine to soften the mood he is hopeful one thing will lead to another, gearing up for the moment passion takes hold, he wants her. The last thing he expected was for her to die, suddenly, at that very moment. A ...more
Sep 08, 2013 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
Recommended to Garima by: s.p
Everything is travelling towards its own dissolution and is lost and few things leave any trace, especially if they are never repeated, if they happen only once and never recur, the same happens with those things that install themselves too comfortably and recur day after day, again and again, they leave no trace either.
The writing of Javier Marias is a different case altogether. Repetition and recurrence are common aspects of his books * and yet they always leave an everlasting trace on read
Ian "Marvin" Graye
The Strange Workings of Time

The act of telling a story takes up time, it prolongs time and, in doing so, prolongs life.

It preserves memories while we are alive, but it can also preserve them beyond our death.

Paradoxically, story-telling might even help us to accept death.

As Marias’ protagonist, Victor, says:

"I can tell the story and I can therefore explain the transition from life to death, which is a way of both prolonging that life and accepting that death."

Expecting to Reign

Victor’s story s
I don’t propose to talk about the details of the plot of Javier Marias' thought-provoking piece of writing but instead I will simply describe my experience of reading this Richard the III style monologue, because that is what this book is, a long speech by the narrator, Victor, in a calm, unvarying tone, a speech that states quite clearly that he is aware that his story is sometimes bizarre and frightening, and that we may find it unbelievable, in fact he says, I am the person doing the telling ...more
Oct 21, 2012 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
This novel blew me away and I'm still working to fit my pieces together. I got lost into Marías' winding train of thoughts and I'm still trying to find my way back to reality. What was it that I liked so much about this novel? Well, everything: the plot, the subtle humor, the flow of words, the ideas, the profound pondering. I found and lost myself at the same time, and I really can't explain this; if you haven't done it yet, you should read the novel and see for yourself.

Marías talks about deat
Stephen P
Dec 05, 2012 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
This book no longer exists.

I told this to the owner of the bookstore, it was of course empty.

You are the second person to complain. The first was much younger than you. More my age.

You have not read the book, I asked as he sat at the edge of a table mostly emptied. He shook his head. Then, that would explain it, I would like my money returned.

Can't do.

But I no longer have a book that I bought here.

Explain yourself.

O.K. It begins with a dead woman in the narrator's arms. He will remember her
MJ Nicholls
Mar 11, 2013 rated it really liked it  ·  review of another edition
Recommended to MJ by: Señor P
Marvellous. Loved the serpentine sentences with their astonishing thought-within-thought, near-metaphysical poetic lilt, preference for the cosy comma over the sloppy semicolon, their use of not-oft-seen things like reported speech (and thought!) within parentheses, or another character’s dialogue(!), repeated phrases (“dark back of time” about six times) and callback to earlier passages and quotations to elevate the plot matter to something loftier than the obvious. Mike is right—Marías, aside ...more
Dec 23, 2010 rated it it was amazing  ·  review of another edition
When I had around thirty or so pages left to read, I felt a real stab of melancholy, a pungent sadness, that I would soon be finished with this particular narrator and his story - I liked him, commiserated with him, enjoyed the manner in which he presented his fascinating tale, the thoughtfulness with which he considered what had (seemingly) transpired, both to himself and (allegedly) to others, during the period of his enchantment, his haunting by the dead spirit of an unconsummated lover. Marí ...more
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Javier Marías was born in Madrid. His father was the philosopher Julián Marías, who was briefly imprisoned and then banned from teaching for opposing Franco. Parts of his childhood were spent in the United States, where his father taught at various institutions, including Yale University and Wellesley College. His mother died when Javier was 26 years old. He was educated at the Colegio Estudio in ...more
More about Javier Marías...
“Seafood poisoning, a cigarette lit as the person is drifting off to sleep and that sets fire to the sheets or, worse, to a woollen blanket; a slip in the shower—the back of the head—the bathroom door locked; a lightning bolt that splits in two a tree planted in a broad avenue, a tree which, as it falls, crushes or slices off the head of a passer-by, possibly a foreigner; dying in your socks, or at the barber’s, still wearing a voluminous smock, or in a whorehouse or at the dentist’s; or eating fish and getting a bone stuck in your throat, choking to death like a child whose mother isn’t there to save him by sticking a finger down his throat; or dying in the middle of shaving, with one cheek still covered in foam, half-shaven for all eternity, unless someone notices and finishes the job off out of aesthetic pity; not to mention life’s most ignoble, hidden moments that people seldom mention once they are out of adolescence, simply because they no longer have an excuse to do so, although, of course, there are always those who insist on making jokes about them, never very funny jokes.” 7 likes
“You don't even have to move for everything to become horribly complicated, for things to happen, for there to be anger and iitigation, you only have to breathe in this world, the slightest in-breath or out-breath like the minimum swaying inevitable in all light objects hanging by a thread, our veiled and neutral gaze like the inert oscillation of toy airplanes suspended from a ceiling, and that always end up going into battle because of that minimal tremor or pulsation.” 6 likes
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