Samenvatting
Set in an surreal reality in which cats can speak, we follow the young, unnamed protagonist, who's secluded himself from the outside world. Taunted by images from the past and the discomfort of the present, the young man is confronted with his solitude. With a talking cat as a companion, he ventures out into the outside world to find the meaning of life. But in doing so, he confronts parts of himself he wished had remained hidden.
Over de auteur
The Dutch writer Sara Rahimi is originally born in Kabul, Afghanistan, but has fled the country at a young age. She currently lives in Haarlem, the Netherlands. Graduated from the Free University in Amsterdam with a degree in Philosophy and from the University of Amsterdam with a degree in French Literature, literature and philosophy play a central role in her life. Inspired by Japanese literature and existential philosophy, her debut novel showcases her interest for surrealism, nihilism and the search for the meaning of life.
Productinformatie
- ISBN
- 9789464033885 / 978-94-640-3388-5
- Uitgeverij
- Boekscout
- Verschijning
- 18-09-2020
- Taal
- Engels (Amerikaans)
- Genre
- Romans
- Uitvoering
- Paperback
- Pagina's
- 126
- Formaat
- A5
- Illustraties
- Nee
Inkijk
Something felt off these days. This setting, me in clean clothes, a proper dinner and actually enjoying myself, it doesn’t seem right. I rest my head on my hand. I am suddenly more energized, motivated, sharp. What is wrong?
And yet, everything feels distant and strange. I look at myself from a bird’s eye perspective. These hands, that table, the weight of me sitting on the chair, are acts done by someone else. It’s an old, familiar and strange feeling. The kind of thoughts you have when you’re in a hazy place between being awake and falling asleep. It strikes you like thunder and then slowly ebbs away, with every wave grounding you more and more back into reality. This is the nature of feelings after all, they come, they create disruption and they leave you used up as a wasteland ravaged by a storm. In general it’s easy for me to manage my emotions. I’m used to it, even a skilled professional if I may say so. This skill didn’t come out of nowhere obviously, it’s a gift received through long endurance, patience and inner strength. I would even call it noble, a quiet ode to the samurai legacy. We, quiet sufferers of a vivid inner voice. I’d even be impressed by myself, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m as far removed from being a samurai as is humanly possible. How noble is my life? I’m not really noble, I’m just a stone, a nobody. Absorbing whatever life brings me, eroding away, eventually breaking down completely.