Edita's Reviews > Shalimar the Clown
Shalimar the Clown
by
by
Sometimes, now, she did not hear his voice for weeks, even months. In the night she reached out for him but found only a void. He had gone beyond her reach and she could only wait for him to return, not knowing if she wanted him to return so that she could preserve her dream of a happy ending, or if she wished him dead because his death would set her free. But he always returned in the end, and when he did it seemed that in his life only a single night had passed, or at the very most two or three. Years of her life were vanishing but in the place from which he called to her, time ran at a different speed, the space around him took a different shape. She did not know how to tell him everything that was happening in Pachigam. There was no time. Increasingly, however, he wanted only to send her the message of himself, of the fire that continued to burn in him, […]
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Reading Progress
January 17, 2015
–
Started Reading
January 17, 2015
– Shelved
January 18, 2015
–
3.27%
"A woman like me, she lives someplace in between. Between the memories and the daily stuff. Between yesterday and tomorrow..."
page
13
January 18, 2015
–
4.27%
"As if by wanting to put his hand on her he hoped to reach out to someone else, across unknown dimensions of sad memory and lost event. As if she were just a representative, a sign. She wanted to be the kind of woman who could ask a driver, who do you want to touch when you want to touch me. Who, when you abstain from touching me, is not being touched by you?"
page
17
January 31, 2015
–
27.89%
"He stared into the fast-flowing waters and contemplated the tragedy of desire."
page
111
January 31, 2015
–
31.41%
"The condition could be said to be under control. The problem of memory, of excessive remembering, was not. The accumulation grew every day more oppressive and it became harder and harder to sleep. […] The weather of the past piled up in him, names and faces jostled for space, and the overload of unforgotten words and deeds left him wide-eyed with horror."
page
125
February 7, 2015
–
43.22%
"Life everywhere had holes in it, was a book with pages ripped out, crumpled up, tossed away."
page
172
February 9, 2015
–
97.24%
"That night when he closed his eyes he realized he couldn’t see Pachigam clearly anymore, his memories of the valley of Kashmir had grown imprecise, broken beneath the weight of life [...]"
page
387
February 9, 2015
–
Finished Reading
April 3, 2015
– Shelved as:
salman-rushdie