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Olga Tokarczuk

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead

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With Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead, Man Booker International Prize-winner Olga Tokarczuk returns with a subversive, entertaining noir novel. In a remote Polish village, Janina Duszejko, an eccentric woman in her sixties, recounts the events surrounding the disappearance of her two dogs. She is reclusive, preferring the company of animals to people; she’s unconventional, believing in the stars; and she is fond of the poetry of William Blake, from whose work the title of the book is taken. When members of a local hunting club are found murdered, Duszejko becomes involved in the investigation. By no means a conventional crime story, this existential thriller by ‘one of Europe’s major humanist writers’ (Guardian) offers thought-provoking ideas on our perceptions of madness, injustice against marginalized people, animal rights, the hypocrisy of traditional religion, belief in predestination — and caused a genuine political uproar in Tokarczuk’s native Poland.
‘Strange, mordantly funny, consoling and wise, Olga Tokarczuk’s novels fill the reader’s mind with intimations of a unique consciousness.’
— Marcel Theroux, author of Strange Bodies
Ova knjiga je trenutno nedostupna
268 štampanih stranica
Vlasnik autorskih prava
Bookwire
Prvi put objavljeno
2018
Godina izdavanja
2018
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Citati

  • finalfadeoutje citiralaпре 2 месеца
    ‘Drive your plow over the bones of the dead,’ I said to myself in the words of Blake; is that how it went?
  • finalfadeoutje citiralaпре 3 месеца
    Winter mornings are made of steel; they have a metallic taste and sharp edges. On a Wednesday in January, at seven in the morning, it’s plain to see that the world was not made for Man, and definitely not for his comfort or pleasure.
  • finalfadeoutje citiralaпре 3 месеца
    For no human heart is capable of bearing so much pain. The whole, complex human psyche has evolved to prevent Man from understanding what he is really seeing. To stop the truth from reaching him by wrapping it in illusion, in idle chatter. The world is a prison full of suffering, so constructed that in order to survive one must inflict pain on others. Do you hear me?

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