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Ceea ce datorăm
Romanul Ceea ce datorăm aduce pe scena ficţiunii contemporane o voce impetuoasă, dar necesară, o voce care se naşte din trauma şi pierderea asimilate încetul cu încetul, un fenomen care îşi lasă urmele asupra generaţiilor viitoare.
Nahid mai are şase luni de trăit. Sau cel puţin aşa spun medicii. La cincizeci de ani, „pierderea” nu îi este străină. Dar acum, cînd a ajuns pe marginea unei prăpăstii, genunea propriei morţi, şi tocmai a aflat că fiica ei, Aram, urmează să nască, Nahid trebuie să se lupte cu furia ce abia i se naşte în suflet, dar şi cu o durere nestăvilită a cărei apăsare o simte de mult. În viaţa de dinainte, din Iran, şi în viaţa ei de refugiată, în Suedia, Nahid a învăţat să supravieţuiască. Ce nu ştie însă este să trăiască pur şi simplu; nu s-a priceput niciodată s-o facă şi nici n-a avut şansa. Ca o izbucnire furioasă, aproape ca primul ţipăt al unui nou-născut, acest roman extraordinar ne face să ne întrebăm: ce lăsăm în urmă pentru copiii noştri? Ce le datorăm celor pe care-i iubim? Putem fi vreodată cu adevărat liberi?
Nahid mai are şase luni de trăit. Sau cel puţin aşa spun medicii. La cincizeci de ani, „pierderea” nu îi este străină. Dar acum, cînd a ajuns pe marginea unei prăpăstii, genunea propriei morţi, şi tocmai a aflat că fiica ei, Aram, urmează să nască, Nahid trebuie să se lupte cu furia ce abia i se naşte în suflet, dar şi cu o durere nestăvilită a cărei apăsare o simte de mult. În viaţa de dinainte, din Iran, şi în viaţa ei de refugiată, în Suedia, Nahid a învăţat să supravieţuiască. Ce nu ştie însă este să trăiască pur şi simplu; nu s-a priceput niciodată s-o facă şi nici n-a avut şansa. Ca o izbucnire furioasă, aproape ca primul ţipăt al unui nou-născut, acest roman extraordinar ne face să ne întrebăm: ce lăsăm în urmă pentru copiii noştri? Ce le datorăm celor pe care-i iubim? Putem fi vreodată cu adevărat liberi?
208 pages, Paperback
First published August 31, 2017
100 people are currently reading
4800 people want to read
About the author
Golnaz Hashemzadeh Bonde
3 books74 followersGolnaz Hashemzadeh Bonde was born in Iran in 1983 and fled with her parents to Sweden as a young child. She graduated from the Stockholm School of Economics and was named one of 50 Goldman Sachs Global Leaders. She is the founder and director of Inkludera Invest, a non-profit organization dedicated to fighting marginalization in society by backing social entrepreneurs who have developed pragmatic solutions to social challenges.
She debuted in 2012 with the novel, She Is Not Me (Hon är inte jag). Her second novel, What We Owe, was published by Wahlström & Widstrand in August, 2017.
Hashemzadeh Bonde lives in Stockholm together with her husband and daughter.
She debuted in 2012 with the novel, She Is Not Me (Hon är inte jag). Her second novel, What We Owe, was published by Wahlström & Widstrand in August, 2017.
Hashemzadeh Bonde lives in Stockholm together with her husband and daughter.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 531 reviews
November 10, 2018
4.5 stars for this one. Thanks to the amazing Elyse for this one!
Wow. This book packs one hell of a punch.
"There is no future. Think if people knew. You put so much time into planning for the future and then it doesn't even exist. Who would have thought."
Nahid is diagnosed with cancer and given six months to live, although the doctors don't know how long it will take for the disease to work its course. As a nurse, she understands what it's like for a patient to receive this type of diagnosis, but she is utterly unprepared for the range of emotions she feels—grief, fear, despair, and overwhelming anger.
As she grapples with her diagnosis, she looks back on the difficult life she has lived. From her days as a participant in the Iranian Revolution, where she experienced significant loss, to living as a refugee in Sweden, her life has always been about sacrifice, none greater than the sacrifices she made for her daughter, Aram.
Now, as Aram tries to take care of her mother, and readies for the birth of her own child, Nahid vacillates between gratitude and jealousy—jealousy that life has been easier for her daughter than her, and jealousy that Aram will live while she will die. But at other times, Nahid is sensitive, tender, wanting only to see her grandchild born before she dies.
"Maybe pain moves in a circle. Maybe I caused her pain to avenge my own."
What do we owe our children? Are the sacrifices we make on their behalf enough? Is it wrong to expect anything in return? And why does it seem that life never gets easier for some, that some people never get the chance to be truly happy and instead spend their lives reliving the difficult and painful moments they have lived instead of experiencing true joy?
What We Owe is a powerful, at times gut-wrenching meditation on these questions. It's a look at how one woman tries coming to terms with the difficult life she has lived, the reflections on whether all that she has suffered has been worth it, and whether that should mean something in the end. At the same time, this is a story about the often-difficult relationship between mothers and daughters, and how guilt and emotion gets caught in the crossfire.
Golnaz Bonde told this story so effectively. There were times I marveled at her turn of phrase (kudos to Elizabeth Jane Clark Wessel, who translated the book) and how well she nailed the range of emotions Nahid felt. It's a difficult book, because occasionally Nahid's anger borders on toxic, and she lashes out at Aram, but then you realize where this anger is coming from, and its history in her system.
This is a tremendously thought-provoking book, one that would be excellent for a book club or discussion group, because in Bonde's hands, there is so much to ponder.
See all of my reviews at itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com, or check out my list of the best books I read in 2017 at https://itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-best-books-i-read-in-2017.html.
Wow. This book packs one hell of a punch.
"There is no future. Think if people knew. You put so much time into planning for the future and then it doesn't even exist. Who would have thought."
Nahid is diagnosed with cancer and given six months to live, although the doctors don't know how long it will take for the disease to work its course. As a nurse, she understands what it's like for a patient to receive this type of diagnosis, but she is utterly unprepared for the range of emotions she feels—grief, fear, despair, and overwhelming anger.
As she grapples with her diagnosis, she looks back on the difficult life she has lived. From her days as a participant in the Iranian Revolution, where she experienced significant loss, to living as a refugee in Sweden, her life has always been about sacrifice, none greater than the sacrifices she made for her daughter, Aram.
Now, as Aram tries to take care of her mother, and readies for the birth of her own child, Nahid vacillates between gratitude and jealousy—jealousy that life has been easier for her daughter than her, and jealousy that Aram will live while she will die. But at other times, Nahid is sensitive, tender, wanting only to see her grandchild born before she dies.
"Maybe pain moves in a circle. Maybe I caused her pain to avenge my own."
What do we owe our children? Are the sacrifices we make on their behalf enough? Is it wrong to expect anything in return? And why does it seem that life never gets easier for some, that some people never get the chance to be truly happy and instead spend their lives reliving the difficult and painful moments they have lived instead of experiencing true joy?
What We Owe is a powerful, at times gut-wrenching meditation on these questions. It's a look at how one woman tries coming to terms with the difficult life she has lived, the reflections on whether all that she has suffered has been worth it, and whether that should mean something in the end. At the same time, this is a story about the often-difficult relationship between mothers and daughters, and how guilt and emotion gets caught in the crossfire.
Golnaz Bonde told this story so effectively. There were times I marveled at her turn of phrase (kudos to Elizabeth Jane Clark Wessel, who translated the book) and how well she nailed the range of emotions Nahid felt. It's a difficult book, because occasionally Nahid's anger borders on toxic, and she lashes out at Aram, but then you realize where this anger is coming from, and its history in her system.
This is a tremendously thought-provoking book, one that would be excellent for a book club or discussion group, because in Bonde's hands, there is so much to ponder.
See all of my reviews at itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com, or check out my list of the best books I read in 2017 at https://itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-best-books-i-read-in-2017.html.
May 13, 2019
Update: 'GREAT Kindle deal today....this is a $2.99 download special. Its an impossible book to put down!!! Terrific novel that grabs you and won't let go!!!!
NO SPOILERS..... NO COMPLETE FLOW OF CONTEXT EITHER....
just small tidbits .....hoping to light a fire of your curiosity . JUST READ THIS BOOK!!!
“OH MY GOD”....or OMG....
This popular slang expression FITS THIS NOVEL....
YOU will be CHAINED TO IT!!!
Fast to read - Nothing fluffy - kinda shocking - GUT GUT GUT wrenching!
OMG!!! Ripped my guts out!!! Much to think about long after done reading.
“The hope of making anything other than pain from pain died. We couldn’t stay. We couldn’t protect ourselves, and we couldn’t protect our child”.
Shame......
For lack of principles....
For not standing up for anything at all during the interrogation....
For leaving my mother with the loss......( two daughter’s - a war - a revolution)
A language they didn’t understand- people called them towelheads....
Shame & ashamed .....with justifications.... “This is for our children”!
This is a review from Kirkus: I couldn’t agree MORE!!!!
“Spare and devastating… Translated — gorgeously and simply — by Wessel,
Nahid’s sentences are short and thrillingly brutal, and the result is exhilarating. Hashemzadeh Bonde, unafraid of ugliness and seemingly unconcerned with likability, has produced a startling meditation on death, national identity, and motherhood. Always arresting, never sentimental; gut-wrenching, though not without hope.”
Riveting....HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!!!!
Absolutely love the writing style and can’t wait to read this author again!
NO SPOILERS..... NO COMPLETE FLOW OF CONTEXT EITHER....
just small tidbits .....hoping to light a fire of your curiosity . JUST READ THIS BOOK!!!
“OH MY GOD”....or OMG....
This popular slang expression FITS THIS NOVEL....
YOU will be CHAINED TO IT!!!
Fast to read - Nothing fluffy - kinda shocking - GUT GUT GUT wrenching!
OMG!!! Ripped my guts out!!! Much to think about long after done reading.
“The hope of making anything other than pain from pain died. We couldn’t stay. We couldn’t protect ourselves, and we couldn’t protect our child”.
Shame......
For lack of principles....
For not standing up for anything at all during the interrogation....
For leaving my mother with the loss......( two daughter’s - a war - a revolution)
A language they didn’t understand- people called them towelheads....
Shame & ashamed .....with justifications.... “This is for our children”!
This is a review from Kirkus: I couldn’t agree MORE!!!!
“Spare and devastating… Translated — gorgeously and simply — by Wessel,
Nahid’s sentences are short and thrillingly brutal, and the result is exhilarating. Hashemzadeh Bonde, unafraid of ugliness and seemingly unconcerned with likability, has produced a startling meditation on death, national identity, and motherhood. Always arresting, never sentimental; gut-wrenching, though not without hope.”
Riveting....HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!!!!!
Absolutely love the writing style and can’t wait to read this author again!
November 25, 2018
Idealism, unbearable loss and survival. I am blown away by the powerful stories I have read lately in these shorter paged books. A story of a life ending too soon, Nahid, once had hopes for the future. In Iran, part of an idealistic group that believed in a better and fairer future for their country, suffers a horrible loss that will affect the rest of her life, and thst of her daughter.. Fleeing their country, they become refugees settling in Sweden.
The scars we carry with us, the pain that never dissolves, the feeling of never belonging, all part of Nahids life. Her voice as she tells her story is haunting, her pain and snguish almost unbearable, her wanting so large it takes her over. Mothers and daughters, the ties that bind but that can also strangle. Not a happy little book, but it has a raw honesty about the life of those who spend their lives where they feel they do not belong. Those that carry the pain from the reason they had to flee, unable to absolve themselves.
"Sand streams down to the earth because that's where it belongs. We can lift it, capture it, transport it. But even after oceans of time pass by, even after we've carried it across thousands of miles, sand will seek the earth again when the opportunity arises. So we are all bought back to our origins."
Roots and feeling rootless, makes one think about all the refugees seeking shelter. A difficult book to read emotionally, but one that does end on a note of hope. Makes one think and feel, as only the best of books can.
The scars we carry with us, the pain that never dissolves, the feeling of never belonging, all part of Nahids life. Her voice as she tells her story is haunting, her pain and snguish almost unbearable, her wanting so large it takes her over. Mothers and daughters, the ties that bind but that can also strangle. Not a happy little book, but it has a raw honesty about the life of those who spend their lives where they feel they do not belong. Those that carry the pain from the reason they had to flee, unable to absolve themselves.
"Sand streams down to the earth because that's where it belongs. We can lift it, capture it, transport it. But even after oceans of time pass by, even after we've carried it across thousands of miles, sand will seek the earth again when the opportunity arises. So we are all bought back to our origins."
Roots and feeling rootless, makes one think about all the refugees seeking shelter. A difficult book to read emotionally, but one that does end on a note of hope. Makes one think and feel, as only the best of books can.
March 23, 2023
Od malih životnih radosti izdvajam knjige od kojih nemate nikakva očekivanja pa vas oduvaju
February 18, 2019
Šī grāmata bija mana ceļa lasāmmaize. No Berlīnes uz Rīgu. Tad no Rīgas uz Krāslavu. Pabeidzu to Krāslavā, māju mierā. "Tie bijām mēs" ir par nāves tuvošanos un milzu alkām dzīvot, kā arī par to, vai vispār ir dzīvots. Ko nozīmē justies dzīvam? Ko nozīmē dzīvot pa īstam?
Nāves tuvošanās varoni pietuvina pašas dzīvei, esībai. Kuros brīžos viņa jutās dzīva? Kuras ir skaistākās atmiņas? Cik maksā brīvība? Varones izmisums bija ļoti klātesošs. Manipulēšana ar tuvajiem. Slimība kā ierocis, slimība kā pašizziņas impulss. Slimība kā ceļš uz dzīves pēdējo nodaļu.
Nāves tuvošanās varoni pietuvina pašas dzīvei, esībai. Kuros brīžos viņa jutās dzīva? Kuras ir skaistākās atmiņas? Cik maksā brīvība? Varones izmisums bija ļoti klātesošs. Manipulēšana ar tuvajiem. Slimība kā ierocis, slimība kā pašizziņas impulss. Slimība kā ceļš uz dzīves pēdējo nodaļu.
April 22, 2018
I am at a loss for words. I almost feel like there's no point in me reading anything anymore. I guess this is it, my reading life has peaked.
What We Owe is one of those books that will define my reading life. Written in explosive sentences and gut-punching prose, it tells the story of Nahid, who fled the Iranian revolution to Sweden in the late 1970s. Now, at almost 50, she is dying of cancer and is pondering whether all the sacrifices, all the running and escaping death was worth it, now that death has caught up with her again.
Bonde is an exceptional writer. She embodies and brings to life an imperfect, realistic, truly real woman. This book does not tiptoe around emotions or humanity, it digs right in to the core. The book handles being a refugee, motherhood, dying and the unquenchable thirst to live. I don't think any fancy words I blabber onto this review will ever do this book justice. Read this book. Read it.
What We Owe is one of those books that will define my reading life. Written in explosive sentences and gut-punching prose, it tells the story of Nahid, who fled the Iranian revolution to Sweden in the late 1970s. Now, at almost 50, she is dying of cancer and is pondering whether all the sacrifices, all the running and escaping death was worth it, now that death has caught up with her again.
Bonde is an exceptional writer. She embodies and brings to life an imperfect, realistic, truly real woman. This book does not tiptoe around emotions or humanity, it digs right in to the core. The book handles being a refugee, motherhood, dying and the unquenchable thirst to live. I don't think any fancy words I blabber onto this review will ever do this book justice. Read this book. Read it.
September 12, 2025
Thought this book did a great job of portraying the effects of illness, immigration stress, and exclusion/oppression on mental health and the parent/child relationship. Unfortunately I found the writing style a tad forced even though the core emotional content is affecting. One question I’m left with after reading What We Owe: what could our relationships look like without systemic inequities and injustices like patriarchy, domestic violence, etc.?
May 20, 2024
Nu încetez să mă mir cum de cărți atât de frumoase ajung la 10 lei, iar altele, care sunt risipă de timp și hârtie, costă cât munca dintr-o zi...
,,Cred că moartea a fost mereu lângă mine. Banal, o să spună probabil toți muribunzii. Dar îmi place să cred că sunt mai specială decât restul, și asta e valabil pentru tot."
,,Ce să fac eu cu mai mult timp? Timp în care ești bolnav. Timp în care ești singur. Timp în care aștepți să mori. Ce să faci cu timpul când nu ai planuri de viitor?"
,,Oare e posibil să consumi viața mai repede dacă trăiești mai mult? Mereu mi s-a spus că am un râs prea zgomotos. Cum ar fi ca fiecare râs, fiecare râs zgomotos să-mi fi tăiat o zi din viață? Și dacă fiecăruia dintre noi i s-a dat un număr fix de zile, și dacă cu cât râdem mai tare, cu cât discutăm mai aprins, cu cât dansăm mai excentric, cu atât le consumăm mai rapid?"
,,Când un bărbat dă într-o femeie, o face în mai multe feluri."
,,E greu să mai faci distincția între ce e corect și ce e greșit dacă anii au trecut și totul devine șters și încurcat."
,,Lucrurile de care ați fugit sunt alături de voi, la fel de vii ca viața asta stranie la care încercați să vă adaptați. N-o să dispară! Sunteți damnați, și voi, și copiii voștri. Totul e la locul lui și totul se moștenește."
,,Cancerul atinsese și creierul. Își făcuse cuib printre amintirile mele. Printre gândurile mele, în văzul meu. Se postase ca un perete între mine și ce voiam să zic. Tot ce aveam de zis înainte să dispar. Tot ce voiam să văd, tot ce era de văzut. Aveam să dispar înainte să apuc să mor."
,,N-ar trebui să te doară atât de tare să-ți pierzi mama atunci când și tu ești pe moarte, când tu însăți urmează să mori cât de curând. Când știi că senzația asta n-o să dureze mult. Că e o durere temporară. Dar a durut."
,,Cred că moartea a fost mereu lângă mine. Banal, o să spună probabil toți muribunzii. Dar îmi place să cred că sunt mai specială decât restul, și asta e valabil pentru tot."
,,Ce să fac eu cu mai mult timp? Timp în care ești bolnav. Timp în care ești singur. Timp în care aștepți să mori. Ce să faci cu timpul când nu ai planuri de viitor?"
,,Oare e posibil să consumi viața mai repede dacă trăiești mai mult? Mereu mi s-a spus că am un râs prea zgomotos. Cum ar fi ca fiecare râs, fiecare râs zgomotos să-mi fi tăiat o zi din viață? Și dacă fiecăruia dintre noi i s-a dat un număr fix de zile, și dacă cu cât râdem mai tare, cu cât discutăm mai aprins, cu cât dansăm mai excentric, cu atât le consumăm mai rapid?"
,,Când un bărbat dă într-o femeie, o face în mai multe feluri."
,,E greu să mai faci distincția între ce e corect și ce e greșit dacă anii au trecut și totul devine șters și încurcat."
,,Lucrurile de care ați fugit sunt alături de voi, la fel de vii ca viața asta stranie la care încercați să vă adaptați. N-o să dispară! Sunteți damnați, și voi, și copiii voștri. Totul e la locul lui și totul se moștenește."
,,Cancerul atinsese și creierul. Își făcuse cuib printre amintirile mele. Printre gândurile mele, în văzul meu. Se postase ca un perete între mine și ce voiam să zic. Tot ce aveam de zis înainte să dispar. Tot ce voiam să văd, tot ce era de văzut. Aveam să dispar înainte să apuc să mor."
,,N-ar trebui să te doară atât de tare să-ți pierzi mama atunci când și tu ești pe moarte, când tu însăți urmează să mori cât de curând. Când știi că senzația asta n-o să dureze mult. Că e o durere temporară. Dar a durut."
June 27, 2019
man noteikti vajag vēl padomāt par to, kas ar mani noticis šīs grāmatas lasīšanas laikā, taču viens ir skaidrs - tā ir bijusi pēdējā laika sāpīgākā un skaistākā grāmata. ļoti, ļoti, ļoti vajadzīga.
October 21, 2018
Well that tore my heart out. Golnaz Hashemzadeh Bonde, has crafted a beautiful debut novel in What We Owe, about an Iranian nurse Nahid, who lives in Sweden and has learned that she has terminal cancer. One of the things I love about the book, is that Nahid isn't a perfect sympathetic character. She has made bad decisions, she has regrets, she is gruff and can be unkind and at times is downright mean to her only child her daughter Aram. And yet the reader is drawn to her and her compelling story.
As a young college student in Iran, Nahid felt the winds of freedom in the air:
There weren’t many days left until the university semester started, and I had so much faith in that place. In what could happen when thinking people were brought together. In my naïveté the length of my skirt was a primary concern, was one of my first thoughts. I should have shorter skirts. I should be a free woman with free legs.
Soon Nahid and her boyfriend (soon to be husband) Masood became revolutionaries:
I think now, we were idiots. We had everything. We had everything you could really wish for. We were the most fortunate people in our country. In many ways, we had more than the truly rich. We had a future to build with our own hands. Saber. He should have been satisfied with becoming a well-dressed man with a beautiful wife and a house and kids and cars and whiskey. But no. We constructed principles. We wanted true freedom. We wanted it for ourselves, but above all we wanted it for everyone else. That was the attraction, the beauty. To bear the weight of justice on our shoulders. To be soldiers for justice. We thought it was in our hands! That it was something we could enact. Naïve, idiotic children. But it was the best thing I’ve done in my life. Sometimes I wish it had been my life. What came later . . . that I could have done without.
But the revolution does not evolve in the way that Nahid hoped and soon they are in hiding for their lives and must leave with their infant daughter:
You don’t leave because you give up. you leave to do something, make something. Build something that’s like a middle finger in the face of all the shit that has happened. People often see me as a victim. They expect me to be weak, submissive. As a refugee woman. I don’t understand their thinking. Don’t they realize I’m here because I’m strong? That it takes strength not to give up, to refuse to accept misery and oppression? Sometimes I wonder if they think they’re strong, that strength comes from never facing hardship. If they think a placid life builds resilience.
Such an amazing book, packed in a short immensely readable package. I found myself making dozens of highlights. I found myself angry, joyous and sad. I found myself sobbing (I almost always love a book that gives me a good cry.)
I encourage all to pick up this book and read it. It won't take you anytime at all.
As a young college student in Iran, Nahid felt the winds of freedom in the air:
There weren’t many days left until the university semester started, and I had so much faith in that place. In what could happen when thinking people were brought together. In my naïveté the length of my skirt was a primary concern, was one of my first thoughts. I should have shorter skirts. I should be a free woman with free legs.
Soon Nahid and her boyfriend (soon to be husband) Masood became revolutionaries:
I think now, we were idiots. We had everything. We had everything you could really wish for. We were the most fortunate people in our country. In many ways, we had more than the truly rich. We had a future to build with our own hands. Saber. He should have been satisfied with becoming a well-dressed man with a beautiful wife and a house and kids and cars and whiskey. But no. We constructed principles. We wanted true freedom. We wanted it for ourselves, but above all we wanted it for everyone else. That was the attraction, the beauty. To bear the weight of justice on our shoulders. To be soldiers for justice. We thought it was in our hands! That it was something we could enact. Naïve, idiotic children. But it was the best thing I’ve done in my life. Sometimes I wish it had been my life. What came later . . . that I could have done without.
But the revolution does not evolve in the way that Nahid hoped and soon they are in hiding for their lives and must leave with their infant daughter:
You don’t leave because you give up. you leave to do something, make something. Build something that’s like a middle finger in the face of all the shit that has happened. People often see me as a victim. They expect me to be weak, submissive. As a refugee woman. I don’t understand their thinking. Don’t they realize I’m here because I’m strong? That it takes strength not to give up, to refuse to accept misery and oppression? Sometimes I wonder if they think they’re strong, that strength comes from never facing hardship. If they think a placid life builds resilience.
Such an amazing book, packed in a short immensely readable package. I found myself making dozens of highlights. I found myself angry, joyous and sad. I found myself sobbing (I almost always love a book that gives me a good cry.)
I encourage all to pick up this book and read it. It won't take you anytime at all.
November 4, 2018
Thank you Elyse for your recommendation of this beautiful book!
November 13, 2025
Sāpīgi.
April 23, 2018
Efter sista sidan skrek jag "Fasiken!"
Den här boken alltså. Rörde mig på så många sätt och på sina 220 sidor packade den in så mycket. Skulle ha sträckläst den här om jag kunnat för var helt tagen av den. Tårarna rann smått på kollektivtrafiken och om inte det ger en femma, vet jag inte vad.
Den här boken alltså. Rörde mig på så många sätt och på sina 220 sidor packade den in så mycket. Skulle ha sträckläst den här om jag kunnat för var helt tagen av den. Tårarna rann smått på kollektivtrafiken och om inte det ger en femma, vet jag inte vad.
September 24, 2018
Nahid has led a life of terrible suffering, loss,regret, and rage. Now, at 55 years of age, the doctors tell her she has stage 4 incurable cancer with not much longer to live. As she deals with this news, she looks back at her life and gradually reveals those incidents in her life that have so filled her with anger and pain.
Once a young woman in Iran, she is filled with hope for her destiny. She is an activist and marches against the new regime. She wants equality for all and her belief is in Marxism, not dictatorship. She also has a great love for Masood, a fellow comrade, and Nahid gets pregnant with his child. She finds out, however, that marching for justice can lead to immeasurable pain and suffering, even betrayal and death. Bringing a child into the world creates fertile soil for repeating family dynamics, the good as well as the bad. As Nahid and Masood escape to Sweden, they are not prepared for all they bring with them and all they leave behind.
Aram, Nahid's daughter, is a young woman when the novel opens. Masood has just died. Aram is distraught that her mother is dying and Nahid is not always sympathetic to Aram's emotions. " She is the one receiving the fruit of our labors. of all our losses. She inherits everything we hoped for, and all the things we took for granted, Freedom. Possibilities. Life. She is the one who gets to live. And here she is feeling sorry for herself." She wants to tell Aram that "everything disappears" "All worlds. All people. You are a child of war. you are a refugee." "Did you think we left it behind? That it is something you can escape? Read a history book! Nothing endures."
For all of Nahid's life, she's watched things disappear and suffered loss - of her family, her marriage, and the way she'd like to truly be with Aram. Nahid tells Aram that she will suffer this same fate. Once you are transplanted, you are no longer the same. it took Nahid such a long time to realize this and gradually she sees it will be the same fate for Aram, the child of refugees.
As a psychotherapist, I know it is easier to show anger than pain. It feels safer. In her last days Nahid realizes that as she is dying, she "chose to fight death instead of squeezing the last out of life. She looks back at her time in the revolution and the betrayals that were her responsibility, acts she still runs from in the present. She understands that she has fled from her country, from people she loved, and has been trying to assimilate in Sweden. However, "what you've fled from lives with you as vividly as the strange new life you're trying to adapt to."
Ms. Bonde is a splendid writer and Ms. Wessel's translation reads flawlessly. This is most certainly one of my ten best books of 2018.
Once a young woman in Iran, she is filled with hope for her destiny. She is an activist and marches against the new regime. She wants equality for all and her belief is in Marxism, not dictatorship. She also has a great love for Masood, a fellow comrade, and Nahid gets pregnant with his child. She finds out, however, that marching for justice can lead to immeasurable pain and suffering, even betrayal and death. Bringing a child into the world creates fertile soil for repeating family dynamics, the good as well as the bad. As Nahid and Masood escape to Sweden, they are not prepared for all they bring with them and all they leave behind.
Aram, Nahid's daughter, is a young woman when the novel opens. Masood has just died. Aram is distraught that her mother is dying and Nahid is not always sympathetic to Aram's emotions. " She is the one receiving the fruit of our labors. of all our losses. She inherits everything we hoped for, and all the things we took for granted, Freedom. Possibilities. Life. She is the one who gets to live. And here she is feeling sorry for herself." She wants to tell Aram that "everything disappears" "All worlds. All people. You are a child of war. you are a refugee." "Did you think we left it behind? That it is something you can escape? Read a history book! Nothing endures."
For all of Nahid's life, she's watched things disappear and suffered loss - of her family, her marriage, and the way she'd like to truly be with Aram. Nahid tells Aram that she will suffer this same fate. Once you are transplanted, you are no longer the same. it took Nahid such a long time to realize this and gradually she sees it will be the same fate for Aram, the child of refugees.
As a psychotherapist, I know it is easier to show anger than pain. It feels safer. In her last days Nahid realizes that as she is dying, she "chose to fight death instead of squeezing the last out of life. She looks back at her time in the revolution and the betrayals that were her responsibility, acts she still runs from in the present. She understands that she has fled from her country, from people she loved, and has been trying to assimilate in Sweden. However, "what you've fled from lives with you as vividly as the strange new life you're trying to adapt to."
Ms. Bonde is a splendid writer and Ms. Wessel's translation reads flawlessly. This is most certainly one of my ten best books of 2018.
September 29, 2018
“I’ve always carried my death with me,” Nahid reflects in the opening sentence of this book.
And indeed, she has. From her childhood in Iran when she and her boyfriend—later husband—were budding revolutionaries to later on as refugees to Sweden, Nahid has experienced more than her share of loss. Now in mid-life and diagnosed with aggressive ovarian cancer, Nahid looks back unsparingly at the times that have formed the person she is in gut-wrenching detail.
Through her memories, a real person emerges, shorn of the sentimentality that usually surrounds a woman whose life is being cut short. We learn that she is and has been a demanding and often abrasive mother to her daughter, Aram, whom she loves fiercely and yet emotionally abuses. We discover that she can betray if necessary, and that she can survive even when she’s counted out. There are some fine scenes that center on motherhood – her own and her mother’s – as well as what it means to actually find peace.
Those who judge their characters by “likeability” might have a hard time with the complexity of Nahid. She is, in turns, enraged, cruel, pity-filled, strong, weak, and honest. The prose itself moves forward with machine-like precision.
This is a novel about self-forgiveness and the reverberations of violence through all the years of one’s life. It is a fine, if unnerving, book.
And indeed, she has. From her childhood in Iran when she and her boyfriend—later husband—were budding revolutionaries to later on as refugees to Sweden, Nahid has experienced more than her share of loss. Now in mid-life and diagnosed with aggressive ovarian cancer, Nahid looks back unsparingly at the times that have formed the person she is in gut-wrenching detail.
Through her memories, a real person emerges, shorn of the sentimentality that usually surrounds a woman whose life is being cut short. We learn that she is and has been a demanding and often abrasive mother to her daughter, Aram, whom she loves fiercely and yet emotionally abuses. We discover that she can betray if necessary, and that she can survive even when she’s counted out. There are some fine scenes that center on motherhood – her own and her mother’s – as well as what it means to actually find peace.
Those who judge their characters by “likeability” might have a hard time with the complexity of Nahid. She is, in turns, enraged, cruel, pity-filled, strong, weak, and honest. The prose itself moves forward with machine-like precision.
This is a novel about self-forgiveness and the reverberations of violence through all the years of one’s life. It is a fine, if unnerving, book.
October 8, 2022
Grāmata, kura ātri un nesaudzīgi ievilka it kā vienkāršā, bet skarbā stāstā. Caur Nāhidas stāstījumu mēs varam dzīvot līdzi mātes un meitas attiecībām, alkām pēc brīvības un tās izraisītajām traģēdijām, kā arī laulības dzīves realitātēm. Jāatdzīst, ka kaut kas šajā grāmatā lika aizdomāties arī par manas mammas citādi pateiktajām vai neizteiktajām vēlmēm. Šoreiz kaut kā aizķēra personīgi un liks aizdomāties vēl labu laiku.
October 8, 2025
Rareori am întâlnit o carte atât de dură scrisă într-un mod așa delicat. Este o adevărată perlă, o carte pe care o devorezi nu ca să vezi CE se întâmplă ci ca să vezi CUM se întâmplă și ca să te bucuri până la final de un talent literar de excepție. Mi-a plăcut foarte mult, una dintre cele mai bune cărți citite în acest an. 🤩
April 7, 2018
This is a very soulful sorrowful book. It left me with the feeling of enormous sadness.
It is about living and dying and how short life is and how some of us caught in the darkest events of history have so little preparation for what’s to come and no control over the events in our life. There is the element of being born into war, revolution, bloodshed and no ability to withstand it. Nahid saves herself but at the same time looses all sense of meaning and joy of life.
It felt like life happened to her and before she knew it it was over. Written in beautiful prose and so well rendered it doesn’t feel like a translation at all. This is my top 2018 title.
It is about living and dying and how short life is and how some of us caught in the darkest events of history have so little preparation for what’s to come and no control over the events in our life. There is the element of being born into war, revolution, bloodshed and no ability to withstand it. Nahid saves herself but at the same time looses all sense of meaning and joy of life.
It felt like life happened to her and before she knew it it was over. Written in beautiful prose and so well rendered it doesn’t feel like a translation at all. This is my top 2018 title.
June 19, 2019
Man ļoti, ļoti, ļoti patika. Grāmata, kura ir gandrīz viens liels iekšējais monologs ar atmiņu stāstījumiem. Ļoti emocionāls vēstījums par sarežģītiem laikiem un izvēlēm. Ļoti uzrunāja šīs sievietes pārdomas, šķita patiesas un saprotamas.
Visu grāmatu caurvij nāves klātesamība un neizbēgamība. Man patīk tā noskaņa.
Visu grāmatu caurvij nāves klātesamība un neizbēgamība. Man patīk tā noskaņa.
December 20, 2025
Unele cărți mă separă, altele mă adună, dar apoi nu le mai recunosc când sunt cu mine...
Această carte nu a produs în mine decât o poezie șerpuitoare, un avânt furtunos la început dar care pe parcurs a devenit ezitant, temător parcă și nesigur.
Poate ar fi trebuit să o citesc cu mai mulți ani în urmă.
Am înțeles-o prea târziu, m-am trezit la ea când soarele efuziunii sale era deja apus.
Această carte nu a produs în mine decât o poezie șerpuitoare, un avânt furtunos la început dar care pe parcurs a devenit ezitant, temător parcă și nesigur.
Poate ar fi trebuit să o citesc cu mai mulți ani în urmă.
Am înțeles-o prea târziu, m-am trezit la ea când soarele efuziunii sale era deja apus.
December 21, 2018
Others have said it better for this book. Especially within the point made upon so much of a human life's core being exposed in these short, succinct, sharp, searing 200 pagers. More so than the 400 or 500 page lyrical tomes. For sure. For my reading that is true.
This one is like having a 3rd degree burn over 50% of your body being 10 days wrapped and someone ripping the entire bindings off in one tearing pull of a scream echo.
I would not suggest the thin skinned or highly sensitive to introspection mood reaction or analysis of "safety" reading this book.
Some others have called it beautiful. For me, it was just real. As early death is, as cancer is, as war and destruction to strangers absolutely is. But still the entire life tale told in the 1st person IS one cored in different levels of nearly continual misery. Misery in outcome as well as in cognition for guilt and a subsequent embracing toward victim hood as a kind of misery repayment to karma.
Iran has 1000's, no 10,000's of these tales to be told. It's not just the "holy" men either who are running those torture buildings. When I read a book like this, I am so glad that my son's father-in-law came to the USA as a young man and left most of Iran behind. And wish he wouldn't return to it as often as he does.
I have a little sister who is 9 years younger. I can't imagine the impulses for this woman narrator to include her little sister, nor the outcomes of/for such a string of disasters. Her life could never, ever be the same. While reading, I was sitting with the rocking Mother while waiting by the gate.
The way this book was 1st person narrated in such an intense manic degree of screaming and stark language (usually repelling in anger too) was 5 star. And the word craft was excellent. No other method of prose could have been better nuanced for this condition.
This is a book I'm glad I read at the end of my book year, as well. Now I can start the next year much fresher and with kinder % copy in my TBR pile. More joyful stories of course included. Because this one is full boat the opposite.
This one is like having a 3rd degree burn over 50% of your body being 10 days wrapped and someone ripping the entire bindings off in one tearing pull of a scream echo.
I would not suggest the thin skinned or highly sensitive to introspection mood reaction or analysis of "safety" reading this book.
Some others have called it beautiful. For me, it was just real. As early death is, as cancer is, as war and destruction to strangers absolutely is. But still the entire life tale told in the 1st person IS one cored in different levels of nearly continual misery. Misery in outcome as well as in cognition for guilt and a subsequent embracing toward victim hood as a kind of misery repayment to karma.
Iran has 1000's, no 10,000's of these tales to be told. It's not just the "holy" men either who are running those torture buildings. When I read a book like this, I am so glad that my son's father-in-law came to the USA as a young man and left most of Iran behind. And wish he wouldn't return to it as often as he does.
I have a little sister who is 9 years younger. I can't imagine the impulses for this woman narrator to include her little sister, nor the outcomes of/for such a string of disasters. Her life could never, ever be the same. While reading, I was sitting with the rocking Mother while waiting by the gate.
The way this book was 1st person narrated in such an intense manic degree of screaming and stark language (usually repelling in anger too) was 5 star. And the word craft was excellent. No other method of prose could have been better nuanced for this condition.
This is a book I'm glad I read at the end of my book year, as well. Now I can start the next year much fresher and with kinder % copy in my TBR pile. More joyful stories of course included. Because this one is full boat the opposite.
May 15, 2018
Kažkada buvau didžiulė gerbėja islamo kultūros romanų. Skaičiau knygą po knygos, nes man buvo įdomu jų pasaulėžiūra, tradicijos, vertybės į moterį bei šeimą. Tačiau metams bėgant ir lavėjant skoniui pasirinktai literatūrai, kurį laiką tokie romanai tiesiog užsimiršo ir nebuvo skaitomi. Aš nesakau, kad yra blogi, kad jų dabar neskaitau, tiesiog tuo metu kiekvienas iš mūsų skaitėme tą literatūrą, kuri būdavo mums topas arba tokią, kuria labai domėjomės. Jei atvirai, aš ir dabar neabejinga islamo kultūrai, kuri iš kitos pusės atrodo smerktina, iš kitos pusės lyg ir priimtina. Galiu nuraminti, nesiruošiu nei tos kultūros priimti, nei išvykti ten gyventi. Grįžtant prie tokios literatūros, mano rankose jau perskaityta švedų rašytojos Golnaz Hashemzadeh Bonde knyga "Tai buvome mes". Kuo didžiausia pagarba ir padėka "Jotemos" leidyklai, kad išleido tokią nuostabią istoriją. Žinokit, ne vieną kartą beskaitant sustojau ir braukiau ašarą, nes tai knyga stipri savo siužetu, turiniu ir istorija, kuri papasakota moters, kuri jaunystėje su vyru ir mažamete dukryte pabėgo iš Irano nuo karo, nuo pačios islamo politikos. Sakysite, kad tokių istorijų apstu? Paprieštarausiu, kad tikrai ne. Tokių istorijų kaip ši yra tik vienetai. Todėl, šios moters jaunystės maištas prieš savo šalį buvo visa ko pradžia šiandieniniam jos gyvenimui: "Mes buvome kvailiai. Turėjome viską, ko galima panorėti. Savo šalyje buvome tie, kuriems labiausiai pasisekė. Daugeliu atžvilgių turėjome daugiau nei didieji turčiai. Galėjome ateitį kurti savo rankomis. Mes kūrėme principus. Troškome tikrosios laisvės. Norėjome jos sau, bet pirmiausia ir visiems kitiems. Tai buvo pagunda, grožis - nešti teisingumą ant savo pečių, būti teisingumo kariais". Ir štai dabar tapus brandaus amžiaus moterimi, gyvenant svečioje šalyje (Švedijoje), pagrindinę veikėją Nahidą kamuoja didžiulis pyktis - ant savo ligos, kuri ją su diena tiesiog "ėste ėda" vis stipriau; ant medikų, iš kurių mažai paguodos ir palaikymo žodžių; ant savo dukros, kuriai leido ateiti į šį pasauli labai sunkiu metu. Tačiau visoje šioje istorijoje yra vienas labai gražus dalykas - turi gimti anūkė, kuri lyg bus nauja viltis tiek Nahidai, tiek jos dukros šeimai, kad netekus ir pasitraukus vienam žmogui iš gyvenimo, visada gimsta naujas žmogus. Įvyksta lyg savotiški mainai, kad tam kas išeina, jo vietą gyvenime turi užimti kitas. Ir pabaigai, kas tikrai norite tikros ir nesuvaidintos istorijos, tikrų jausmų ir išgyvenimų, džiaugsmo ir pykčio, rekomenduoju šią istoriją, kuri manau gali paliesti kiekvieną jautrios sielos šeimininką. Ir jei verksite skaitydami ją, neslėpkite savo ašarų, nes tai tikra ir nesuvaidinta jūsų pačių gyvenime. Malonaus skaitymo ;)
October 2, 2019
Ceo prikaz: http://www.bukmarkic.com/golnaz-hasem...
Roman Mi smo ti smešten je u dva različita vremena – jedno u Iranu a drugo u Švedskoj, i prati život Nahid. Priča je ispričana ahronično, odnosno prošlost i sadašnjost se smenjuju, a Nahid upoznajemo već na prvoj strani knjige kada saznajemo da ima rak i da će umreti. Ona nas polako pušta u svoj život, upoznajemo njenu ćerku Aram koja još uvek ne zna da će joj majka umreti, a kroz epizode koje ona prepričava upoznajemo i njenog supruga Masuda, njenu majku kao i celu porodicu koja je ostala u Iranu. Naime, nakon revolucija i demonstracija u Iranu, Nahid sa svojim suprugom i malom ćerkom odlaze u Švedsku gde će da započnu novi život. Već nam je poznato da su uspeli u tome, ali koja je bila cena?
Mi smo ti ima sa jedne strane zaplet koji je zaista karakterističan i dobar – Nahidin i Masudov život u Iranu pre demonstracija, tokom demonstracija i sam njihov život u Švedskoj je prepričan na jedan potpuno inovativan i zanimljiv način. Ipak, ovaj roman ne čini samo zaplet, već i atmosfera, kao i bezbroj tema koje on pokriva. Kao glavna tema tu je nasilje u braku, gde Golnaz ne diže samo svest o ovom problemu, već koristi Nahid kao personifikaciju onoga što je vrlo često a ne bi trebalo da bude. Naime, u jednom delu u romanu saznaćete na koji način je Masud fizički zlostavljao Nahid i zbog čega, ali Nahidino mišljenje da je ona to možda zaslužila i da ga i dalje voli je ipak nešto što je, nažalost, sveprisutno u današnjem svetu.
Osim toga, tu je tema smrti koja je sveprisutna. I sam roman počinje rečenicom ’’Smrt je oduvek bila sa mnom’’, tako da nam je od prve strane potpuno jasno da će ovo biti jedna bolna knjiga. Kroz ceo roman smrt se provlači, utičući na celokupnu atmosferu i zaplet romana, stvarajući taj bolni kontekst u kom Golnaz Hašemzade briljira. Kao poslednja glavna tema tu je majčinstvo, odnosno ljubav prema detetu a mržnja prema majčinstvu. Iako se ja lično nisam pronašao ovde, verujem da će ovaj motiv romana Mi smo ti biti interesantan svim ženama koje odluče da ga pročitaju.
Roman Mi smo ti smešten je u dva različita vremena – jedno u Iranu a drugo u Švedskoj, i prati život Nahid. Priča je ispričana ahronično, odnosno prošlost i sadašnjost se smenjuju, a Nahid upoznajemo već na prvoj strani knjige kada saznajemo da ima rak i da će umreti. Ona nas polako pušta u svoj život, upoznajemo njenu ćerku Aram koja još uvek ne zna da će joj majka umreti, a kroz epizode koje ona prepričava upoznajemo i njenog supruga Masuda, njenu majku kao i celu porodicu koja je ostala u Iranu. Naime, nakon revolucija i demonstracija u Iranu, Nahid sa svojim suprugom i malom ćerkom odlaze u Švedsku gde će da započnu novi život. Već nam je poznato da su uspeli u tome, ali koja je bila cena?
Mi smo ti ima sa jedne strane zaplet koji je zaista karakterističan i dobar – Nahidin i Masudov život u Iranu pre demonstracija, tokom demonstracija i sam njihov život u Švedskoj je prepričan na jedan potpuno inovativan i zanimljiv način. Ipak, ovaj roman ne čini samo zaplet, već i atmosfera, kao i bezbroj tema koje on pokriva. Kao glavna tema tu je nasilje u braku, gde Golnaz ne diže samo svest o ovom problemu, već koristi Nahid kao personifikaciju onoga što je vrlo često a ne bi trebalo da bude. Naime, u jednom delu u romanu saznaćete na koji način je Masud fizički zlostavljao Nahid i zbog čega, ali Nahidino mišljenje da je ona to možda zaslužila i da ga i dalje voli je ipak nešto što je, nažalost, sveprisutno u današnjem svetu.
Osim toga, tu je tema smrti koja je sveprisutna. I sam roman počinje rečenicom ’’Smrt je oduvek bila sa mnom’’, tako da nam je od prve strane potpuno jasno da će ovo biti jedna bolna knjiga. Kroz ceo roman smrt se provlači, utičući na celokupnu atmosferu i zaplet romana, stvarajući taj bolni kontekst u kom Golnaz Hašemzade briljira. Kao poslednja glavna tema tu je majčinstvo, odnosno ljubav prema detetu a mržnja prema majčinstvu. Iako se ja lično nisam pronašao ovde, verujem da će ovaj motiv romana Mi smo ti biti interesantan svim ženama koje odluče da ga pročitaju.
May 15, 2021
In realtà se ci penso bene questo libro non l'ho amato, l'ho detestato. Ho detestato l'ineluttabilità del cancro e la violenza famigliare, ho detestato l'anaffettività genitoriale, ho detestato il sopravvento di una nera dittatura che umilia gli uomini ma soprattutto le donne. Ma se chi scrive ha un bisturi in mano più che una penna, un rasoio che lacera in profondità, questo è un dono eccezionale, perchè la feroce realtà raccontata pungola una coscienza addormentata. In fondo, al netto di ogni comprensibile negazione, chi non preferisce il sopore dell'indifferenza? Eppure questo sopore non è innocuo, ci mangia dentro come un cancro. Benedetta la letteratura che ci spinge giù dalla branda e ci fa provare rabbia, dolore, fastidio, arriva sempre il momento in cui ce n'è particolarmente bisogno.
"A volte mi chiedo se giusto e sbagliato siano davvero l'uno l'opposto dell'altro, o se non siano solo due modi diversi per dire la stessa cosa".
"A volte mi chiedo se giusto e sbagliato siano davvero l'uno l'opposto dell'altro, o se non siano solo due modi diversi per dire la stessa cosa".
March 13, 2022
Akıllarından neler geçtiğini biliyorum. Geçmişte çok şey kaybettik, daha şimdiden çok şey kaybettik, neden daha fazla şey kaybetmek zorunda olalım? Farkında değiller, bana bakmaya cesaret edemiyorlar ama ben gözlerim yarı kapalı halde onlar gibi başımı iki yana sallıyorum. Tıpkı onlar gibi tuhaf bir biçimde. Bir ıstırabın tüm ıstıraplara bedel olduğu zamanlardaki gibi.
//
Bi' kitabı bitirdiğiniz zaman hakkında uzun uzadıya konuşmak ama aynı zamanda sadece susmak istediğiniz zamanlarda ne yapıyorsunuz?
Sanırım ben ikinci seçeneği tercih ediyorum.
Bazı kitaplar hem konuşmaya, hem de susmaya değiyor.
Bazen.
//
Bi' kitabı bitirdiğiniz zaman hakkında uzun uzadıya konuşmak ama aynı zamanda sadece susmak istediğiniz zamanlarda ne yapıyorsunuz?
Sanırım ben ikinci seçeneği tercih ediyorum.
Bazı kitaplar hem konuşmaya, hem de susmaya değiyor.
Bazen.
January 10, 2019
Mane įtraukė ir vis bandau sudėlioti, kuo. Dauguma vietų apie mamos ir dukros santykį buvo atpažįstamos. Dauguma susisvaiginimų apie drąsą priešintis ir realų pasipriešinimą pačios išgyventi (tik ne revoliucijos kontekste). Atrodo, kad pats pasakojimas užjudino dalykus, apie kuriuos aš šiaip ar taip pagalvoju, ir tas atspindys buvo tinkamas.
Kas dar patiko - reakcijos į ligą labai žmogiškos. Jau vien dėl jų verta perskaityti
Kas dar patiko - reakcijos į ligą labai žmogiškos. Jau vien dėl jų verta perskaityti
February 6, 2020
Skatījums uz dzīvi caur nāves prizmu. Lai arī grāmata apjomā neliela, tā ir tematiski ļoti ietilpīga. Irānā dzimusi rakstniece, kura pati, bērns būdama, emigrēja ar vecākiem uz Zviedriju, ielikusi šajā grāmatā gan emigranta mūžīgos sakņu meklējumus un problemātiku, gan nāvējoši slima cilvēka pārdomas un attiecības, gan daudz ko citu.
Plašāk blogā:
https://lalksne.blogspot.com/2020/02/...
Plašāk blogā:
https://lalksne.blogspot.com/2020/02/...
December 15, 2018
What a book. Wow.
July 7, 2025
Knygą į kuprinę įsimečiau paskutinę minutę ir ji kartu iškeliavo su manimi atostogų. Nesitikėjau tokios skaudžios istorijos, kuri tiesiog draskyte draskė širdį. Na, knyga visai ne atsipalaidavimui. Nors knygas apie Rytų šalis aš mėgstu.
Nahida ir Masudas susipažįsta visai jauni, kai abiejų gyvenimai tik prasideda. Jie tiki ateiti, jie tiki revoliucija. Deja, įvykiai rutuliojasi taip, kad jaunuoliams tenka bėgti į Švediją. Su padirbtais pasais, skolintais pinigais jie pradeda naują gyvenimą ir niekada negrįžta į gimtą kraštą. Praeina trisdešimt metų ir Nahida sužino, kad serga rimta liga ir gyvenimo mėnesiai suskaičiuoti. Ji pikta ne tik ant savo ligos, bet ir ant mirusio vyro, dukros ir aplinkinių. Vis dėl to, užsižiebia viltis - dukra laukiasi Nahidos anūkės.
Knyga nedidelės apimties, bet talpina nesuskaičiuojamą daugybę skausmo. Nahidos gyvenimas pilnas netekčių: sesers, tėvynės, vėliau santuokinės laimės ir net sveikatos labai jauname amžiuje. Gal todėl tiek kartėlio per ją išlieja rašytoja romano puslapiuose. Skaitydama jaučiau labai dviprasmiškus jausmus: tiek Nahidos gailėjau, tiek ir pykau, kad ji visus nuodija savomis nelaimėmis.
Romanas leido prisiliesti prie imigrantų gyvenimo. Kai dėl savo saugumo turi palikti mylinčius artimuosius, savo šaknis ir tėvynę. Net susikurtas patogus gyvenimas neužpildo tos tuštmos, kuri atsiveria. Nahida ir čia išliejo savo pyktį. Ji netapo laimga, nors šeima įsigijo mamą gerame rajone. Vis dėl to, jautėsi svetima.
Tai gera istorija ir manau, kad labai paveiki. Man buvo skaudu skaityti, sukėlė daugybę jausmų. Bet gal tai gero romano rodiklis. Išdraskyti visus sielos kampelius ir tiesiog skaitytojui užkrauti tą naštą. Skaudus ir jautrus kūrinys, kuris abejingų nepaliks.
Nahida ir Masudas susipažįsta visai jauni, kai abiejų gyvenimai tik prasideda. Jie tiki ateiti, jie tiki revoliucija. Deja, įvykiai rutuliojasi taip, kad jaunuoliams tenka bėgti į Švediją. Su padirbtais pasais, skolintais pinigais jie pradeda naują gyvenimą ir niekada negrįžta į gimtą kraštą. Praeina trisdešimt metų ir Nahida sužino, kad serga rimta liga ir gyvenimo mėnesiai suskaičiuoti. Ji pikta ne tik ant savo ligos, bet ir ant mirusio vyro, dukros ir aplinkinių. Vis dėl to, užsižiebia viltis - dukra laukiasi Nahidos anūkės.
Knyga nedidelės apimties, bet talpina nesuskaičiuojamą daugybę skausmo. Nahidos gyvenimas pilnas netekčių: sesers, tėvynės, vėliau santuokinės laimės ir net sveikatos labai jauname amžiuje. Gal todėl tiek kartėlio per ją išlieja rašytoja romano puslapiuose. Skaitydama jaučiau labai dviprasmiškus jausmus: tiek Nahidos gailėjau, tiek ir pykau, kad ji visus nuodija savomis nelaimėmis.
Romanas leido prisiliesti prie imigrantų gyvenimo. Kai dėl savo saugumo turi palikti mylinčius artimuosius, savo šaknis ir tėvynę. Net susikurtas patogus gyvenimas neužpildo tos tuštmos, kuri atsiveria. Nahida ir čia išliejo savo pyktį. Ji netapo laimga, nors šeima įsigijo mamą gerame rajone. Vis dėl to, jautėsi svetima.
Tai gera istorija ir manau, kad labai paveiki. Man buvo skaudu skaityti, sukėlė daugybę jausmų. Bet gal tai gero romano rodiklis. Išdraskyti visus sielos kampelius ir tiesiog skaitytojui užkrauti tą naštą. Skaudus ir jautrus kūrinys, kuris abejingų nepaliks.
December 28, 2019
Vispirms es uz Nāhidu dusmojos, beigās raudāju un raudāju.
Tik izcili sāpīga grāmata.
"Smiltis tiecas lejup uz zemi, jo tur tām ir mājas. Mēs varam tās paņemt, sagūstīt, pārvietot. Taču pat tad, ja būs pagājis vesels okeāns laika, un pat tad, ja mēs būsim tās aizveduši simtiem jūdžu tālu, tās pie pirmās iespējas nokritīs zemē. Tā mēs visi esam piesaistīti mūsu izcelsmei."
Lasot šo grāmatu, es izdzīvoju tik dažādas jūtu un sajūtu gammas, kā nebija ne ar vienu citu šogad lasīto. Es dusmojos uz Nāhidu par viņas egoismu, viņas izpausmes racionāli norakstīju uz to, ka viņa nav eiropiete un es īstenībā nemaz nezinu, kāds ir austrumu sieviešu domāšanas veids. Es pārdzīvoju par viņu pēc demonstrācijas un par māsiņas likteni un nespēju pieņemt to, ka vīri var tā sist sievas. Sajutu izdarītā smagumu, ko Nahīda aizveda sev līdzi no Irānas, apbrīnoju viņas sīkstumu un nožēloju, ka rūgtums grauž viņu. Nespēju pieņemt viņas egoistiski prasīgo attieksmi pret meitu, un priecājos, ka meita ir izveidojusi savu dzīvi, par spīti redzētajam vecāku ģimenē. Grāmatas beigās asaras tecēja tā, ka nevarēju salasīt tekstu – it kā es lasītu bez lasāmbrilēm. Nāhida sagaidīja mazbērnu.
Nedaudz vairāk šeit: https://lililasa.wordpress.com/2019/1...
Tik izcili sāpīga grāmata.
"Smiltis tiecas lejup uz zemi, jo tur tām ir mājas. Mēs varam tās paņemt, sagūstīt, pārvietot. Taču pat tad, ja būs pagājis vesels okeāns laika, un pat tad, ja mēs būsim tās aizveduši simtiem jūdžu tālu, tās pie pirmās iespējas nokritīs zemē. Tā mēs visi esam piesaistīti mūsu izcelsmei."
Lasot šo grāmatu, es izdzīvoju tik dažādas jūtu un sajūtu gammas, kā nebija ne ar vienu citu šogad lasīto. Es dusmojos uz Nāhidu par viņas egoismu, viņas izpausmes racionāli norakstīju uz to, ka viņa nav eiropiete un es īstenībā nemaz nezinu, kāds ir austrumu sieviešu domāšanas veids. Es pārdzīvoju par viņu pēc demonstrācijas un par māsiņas likteni un nespēju pieņemt to, ka vīri var tā sist sievas. Sajutu izdarītā smagumu, ko Nahīda aizveda sev līdzi no Irānas, apbrīnoju viņas sīkstumu un nožēloju, ka rūgtums grauž viņu. Nespēju pieņemt viņas egoistiski prasīgo attieksmi pret meitu, un priecājos, ka meita ir izveidojusi savu dzīvi, par spīti redzētajam vecāku ģimenē. Grāmatas beigās asaras tecēja tā, ka nevarēju salasīt tekstu – it kā es lasītu bez lasāmbrilēm. Nāhida sagaidīja mazbērnu.
Nedaudz vairāk šeit: https://lililasa.wordpress.com/2019/1...
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