Something Happened :: Хеллер Джозеф
|Страница: 1 из 154|
ПОСЛЕДНИЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГАХ
Михаил (19.04.2017 - 07:11:11)
Антихрист666 (18.04.2017 - 22:05:58)
Ладно, теперь поспешили вы... (18.04.2017 - 21:50:34)
Роман (18.04.2017 - 19:12:26)
АНДРЕЙ (18.04.2017 - 17:42:55)
Близкий чужой человек.
13.05.10 - 09:18
Хотите чтобы ваше произведение или ваш любимый стишок появились здесь? добавьте его!
Something Happened :: Хеллер Джозеф
Аннотация: In the 1960's, we were never able to look at military life in the same way again. Now Joseph Heller has struck far closer to home.
Something Happened is about ambition, greed, love, lust, hate and fear, marriage and adultery. It is about the struggle among men, the war between the sexes, the conflict of parents and children. It is about the life we all lead today — and you will never be able to look at that life in the same way again.
Once in a decade, something important happens in books. In the 1970's, it is Something Happened.
"Hypnotic, seductive. as clear and as hard-edged as a cut diamond!"
— Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., The New York Times Sunday Book
"The test of a novel is when it deserves to be read a second time. People will be rereading Something Happened and fifty years from now they'll be reading it still!"
— Philadelphia Inquirer
by Joseph Heller
BESTSELLER! BOOK OF THE YEAR! NOVEL OF THE DECADE!
tells the story of:
Bob Slocum, inching his way up the slippery pole to success, with all the money he needs, all the women he wants — yet longing for the one girl who has eluded him, and the life he has not lived.
* His wife, who has learned to settle for sex instead of love, and is an eager apprentice at the art of infidelity.
* His teen-age daughter, who is into doing her own thing on the far-out side of the generation gap.
* His son, who stubbornly refuses to learn to compete in the all-American way.
* His other son, whom nobody wants to talk about.
How Joseph Heller tells their story, and the shocking surprises he has in store, demonstrate once again his power in driving home human truths in a way that entertains even as it exposes the agonies and absurdities of our time.
"Joseph Heller has discovered and possessed new territories of the imagination, and he has produced a major work of fiction, one that is as distinctive of its kind as Catch-22, but more ambitious and profound, a brilliant commentary on American life that must surely be considered as the most important novel in at least a decade!"
— John W. Aldridge in Saturday Review/World
"Endlessly fascinating. Maintains Heller in the first rank of American writers. The vision we get is one of chilling recognition. What is revealed is not really the hero at all, but ourselves. Me. You. Them."
— William Kennedy in The New Republic
"Catch-22 became the novel of the 60s. Now Heller has provided the novel of and from the 70s. In his first book Heller took on the military system. This time he's undoing the American Dream."
— Larry Swindell in the Philadelphia Inquirer
"Riveting. with a brilliant and exquisitely prepared-for shock ending that makes everything fall into place. you have to take it seriously!"
— Mary Ellin Barrett in Cosmopolitan
"It will be read and read and read!"
— Kirkus Reviews
"One approaches it with awe. It leads you on hypnotically. Where Catch-22 was about men and men, Something Happened is about men and women. Where the first book dealt with the war of societies, the second treats the war of the sexes. It's a whole new shuffle of the deck!"
— Christopher Lehmann-Haupt in The New York Times
"It's an extraordinary revelation. enriched by some of the best dialogue written in English today."
— Don Rose in the Chicago Daily News
"Do you dare allow a book to bruise you like a kicked apple? If so, you will — no, you must — read Joseph Heller's Something Happened ."
— Cincinnati Enquirer
I get the willies
I get the willies when I see closed doors. Even at work, where I am doing so well now, the sight of a closed door is sometimes enough to make me dread that something horrible is happening behind it, something that is going to affect me adversely; if I am tired and dejected from a night of lies or booze or sex or just plain nerves and insomnia, I can almost smell the disaster mounting invisibly and flooding out toward me through the frosted glass panes. My hands may perspire, and my voice may come out strange. I wonder why.
Something must have happened to me sometime.
Maybe it was the day I came home unexpectedly with a fever and a sore throat and caught my father in bed with my mother that left me with my fear of doors, my fear of opening doors and my suspicion of closed ones. Or maybe it was the knowledge that we were poor, which came to me late in childhood, that made me the way I am. Or the day my father died and left me feeling guilty and ashamed — because I thought I was the only little boy in the whole world then who had no father. Or maybe it was the realization, which came to me early, that I would never have broad shoulders and huge biceps, or be good enough, tall enough, strong enough, or brave enough to become an All-American football player or champion prizefighter, the sad, discouraging realization that no matter what it was in life I ever tried to do, there would always be somebody close by who would be able to do it much better. Or maybe it was the day I did open another door and saw my big sister standing naked, drying herself on the white-tile floor of the bathroom. She yelled at me, even though she knew she had left the door unlocked and that I had stumbled in on her by accident. I was scared.
I remember also, with amusement now, because it happened so long ago, the hot summer day I wandered into the old wooden coal shed behind our redbrick apartment building and found my big brother lying on the floor with Billy Foster's skinny kid sister, who was only my own age and even in the same class I was at school. I had gone to the shed to hammer the wheels and axles from a broken baby carriage I had picked up near a garbage can and use them on a wagon I wanted to make out of a cantaloupe crate and a long plank. I heard a faint, frantic stirring the moment I entered the dark place and felt as though I had stepped on something live. I was startled and smelled dust. I smiled with relief when I saw it was my brother lying on the floor with someone in the sooty shadows filling a far corner. I felt safe again. I said:
"Hi, Eddie. Is that you, Eddie? What are you doing, Eddie?" And he shouted:
"Get the hell out of here, you little son of a bitch!" And hurled a lump of coal.
I ducked away with a soft moan, tears filling my eyes, and fled for my life.
ИНТЕРЕСНОЕ О ЛИТЕРАТУРЕ
ТОП 20 КНИГ
ТОП 20 АВТОРОВ