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Улыбайся всегда, любовь моя
292 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2007
2 people are currently reading
20 people want to read
About the author
Marta Ketro
47 books9 followersRussian Spelling: Марта Кетро
Российская писательница. Член Союза писателей Москвы. Популярный блогер.
Российская писательница. Член Союза писателей Москвы. Популярный блогер.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
August 4, 2012
I really like some aspects of this book, and when I started reading it, I had pretty high expectations. Then something happened. The book just lost any structure. What was at first a tragic story where you knew something was going to happen then just dissolved into reflections, small anecdotes from the narrator's life, all mixed together, but revolving around the same themes - love, sex, drugs, beauty. And the damned Шоколадница! She doesn't seem to frequent any other café. I like the way Ketro writes for the most part, but sometimes it goes a bit overboard on the sentimentalism, and her repetitions (trademark ones, perhaps?) are frankly quite annoying. Still, not bad at all.
July 29, 2020
I bought this book once in a bookstore in my area. So, everything worked out as usual: I went to our peripheral bookstore, and the choice was very scarce. For lack of anything better, I decided to familiarize myself with what is migrating from the Internet to printed pages, because this book is an example of what we in Russia call "Network Literature". ...
I can admit that while I was in line at the checkout, I tried several times to put the book back on the shelf, but in the end my curiosity turned out to be stronger than my snobbery.
So this is what this book turned out to be like. It seemed to me that everything written there bears some character of autobiography, since in some places everything is written too artlessly, and one will never try to strain to invent such common things. In general, all this looks like a heap of posts from Livejournal, and, as they say, I've seen better.
One can feel a kind of "stuffed hand", but this hand is stuffed exactly like a woman's or something. Mewl and moan interspersed with precise recipes and descriptions of outfits - well, really, because it is written specifically for the female reader.
Erotic scenes are absent, and instead there are sighs of admiration and sighs in relation to orgasm.
I stumbled upon several themes in text that seem fruitful for the writer in meaning, but unfortinately they were written somehow sluggishly ... I even decided that I would have written better about eating mushrooms, if I had such an experience, and about interesting wanderings in space. But instead I faced all these ennless tears on my face and arms raised up with emotions ...
I was surprised to remember what love is in a noisy metropolis: it meansphone calls and e-mails, it means sitting on cold benches, rare meetings in snatches. The main thing is the feeling that he is in your life, and the frequency of meetings does not matter here.
I liked the fragments comcerning some internal games with myself, as well as the numerous details that adorn the text.
And I did not like the abundance of not particularly expressive quotes, which do not cause anything in the soul of the reader except for feelings of awkwardness.
I can admit that while I was in line at the checkout, I tried several times to put the book back on the shelf, but in the end my curiosity turned out to be stronger than my snobbery.
So this is what this book turned out to be like. It seemed to me that everything written there bears some character of autobiography, since in some places everything is written too artlessly, and one will never try to strain to invent such common things. In general, all this looks like a heap of posts from Livejournal, and, as they say, I've seen better.
One can feel a kind of "stuffed hand", but this hand is stuffed exactly like a woman's or something. Mewl and moan interspersed with precise recipes and descriptions of outfits - well, really, because it is written specifically for the female reader.
Erotic scenes are absent, and instead there are sighs of admiration and sighs in relation to orgasm.
I stumbled upon several themes in text that seem fruitful for the writer in meaning, but unfortinately they were written somehow sluggishly ... I even decided that I would have written better about eating mushrooms, if I had such an experience, and about interesting wanderings in space. But instead I faced all these ennless tears on my face and arms raised up with emotions ...
I was surprised to remember what love is in a noisy metropolis: it meansphone calls and e-mails, it means sitting on cold benches, rare meetings in snatches. The main thing is the feeling that he is in your life, and the frequency of meetings does not matter here.
I liked the fragments comcerning some internal games with myself, as well as the numerous details that adorn the text.
And I did not like the abundance of not particularly expressive quotes, which do not cause anything in the soul of the reader except for feelings of awkwardness.
February 28, 2020
I follow Marta Ketro on social media, not quite sure why, and have now read another one of her books - silly, considering that I'm not a fan of her writing. The thing is, Ketro's works always seem so alluring at a glance, and I keep getting disappointed time after time. Overall, her books/articles just make me go 'meh', but usually I can at least find a few good quotes that I love. This time I struggled even with that. Not one of her best pieces - very 'rambly' (yes, I do realise that it's her style), not particularly original, and plain boring.
July 7, 2014
Томным жарким утром перечитала в очередной раз и книга отлично наложилась на моё состояние. Поток сознания про любовь к себе, любовь к мужчинам, страх старости, котиков и снова про любовь.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews