Rainbow Books

Prima carte a lui Capote, descoperita abia in 2004. O carte pe care, acum, as fi vrut sa citesc vara, oricat de “cliseistic” suna, dar pe care am savurat-o in tren, noaptea, in drum spre Timisoara. Nu m-am indragostit de Grady asa cum mi s-a intamplat cu Holly, dar m-am reindragostit de acel darling, de caldura verii, de fumul de tigara, de America primei jumatati a secolului al XX-lea, de zile lenese, de vise, de toate acele prostii pe care le faceam fara sa ma gandesc…

Vreau Summer crossing si Breakfast at Tiffany’s in format paperback. In engleza. Acum.

Rising inside Grady was an ungovernable laughter, a joyous agitation which made the white summer stretching before her seem like an unrolling canvas on which she might draw those first rude pure strokes that are free.

“What are we planning to do abroad?” said Lucy, repeating the reporter’s query. “Why, I’m not sure. We have a home in Cannes that we haven’t seen since the war; I suppose we’ll stop by there. And shop; of course we’ll shop.” She hemmed embarrassedly. “But mostly it’s the boat ride. There’s nothing to change the spirit like a summer crossing.”

Slowly he climbed to his feet, his eyes blind-pale; and with a sigh that swayed the room his head fell forward on Grady’s shoulder: I’m a very happy man, he said. It was done then, there was nothing more she wanted of him, summer’s desires had fallen to winter seed: winds blew them far before another April broke their flower.

“Does one always have to want to marry? I’m sure there are kinds of love in which that is hardly an issue.”

“Yes: but aren’t love and marriage notoriously synonymous in the minds of most women? Certainly very few men get the first without promising the second: love, that is—if it’s just a matter of spreading her legs, almost any woman will do that for nothing. But seriously, dear?”

“Seriously, then (though obviously you’re the one not being serious): I have no answer to give, how could I when I’ve never really thought of it? We came here to dance, darling. Shall we?”

Truman Capote – Summer crossing