October, Eight O'clockA collection of short stories stemming from the Romanian author's detention in a Nazi concentration camp as a child evokes a sense of the horror and absurdity of war and Romanian politics. |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Albu apricot arms asked beach become blue blue vitriol boy's breath bridge game Bucharest burning Calea Rahovei calm caught close cold colored corner cousin dark distinguished gentleman doctor door ENCHANTED PIG everything exhausted eyes face fairy tales feel felt fingers Finlanda forehead forest forgotten front gestures girl green guest hair hand handkerchief happy head hear instructor jokes knew Kotsk Lică light longer looked lost Mara marzipan morning mother movie theaters Nana Nana Mouskouri neck neighbor never night NORMAN MANEA notebooks once perhaps phosphorescent polio puff pastry pulled rabbi from Berdichev returned seemed shoulders shout silence sleep slowly smile soft step stopped street strength suddenly summer teacher thick things trees turned vertigo voice waiting walked wanted watch waves window woman words yeshiva young
Popular passages
Page 14 - ... walls, its prickly, uneven hairs had softened somewhat. I put my nose, my whole face, in its roughness, once so soft and good, to let myself be intoxicated by its warmth, like that of toasted bread or boiled potatoes, or by the smell of fresh sawdust, or the fragrance of milk, of rain, of leaves, or by the longing for pencils and apples. But it was not like that; rather a strange odor, that of mold. Something rotten and penetrating. Or only sharp, suffocating, I don't remember. It had become...
Page 5 - I stopped, bewildered, holding it in my arms, blinded by its colors and warmth. I realized that I should have kept out of it, or at least have known how things stood from the very beginning. At last the poor woman had made something for herself. On the snow-covered roads of the steppe she would have more use for it than we. I should have thought of it...
Page 14 - I shuddered, although no one else had found me out. I approached it without courage, weak. My arms would get tangled in it; I could not get it over my head. When at last it clung to me, already too tight, it seemed to choke me. I was no longer afraid of the sickness. Mara had taken away its power, I knew it, it couldn't pass on the disease.
Page 13 - Only a scare, that's what the doctor said. You were delirious, raving the whole time. 'It's stuck to me,' you kept saying. 'It's stuck to me,' and you tried to raise your hands." He lifted me under my arms so I could look out the window. He gave me hot gruel.
References to this book
The Composite Novel: The Short Story Cycle in Transition Maggie Dunn,Ann R. Morris Snippet view - 1995 |