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Salman Rushdie

The Ground Beneath Her Feet

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A mythic tale of love, celebrity, and seismic events—all set to a rock ‘n’ roll soundtrack: “This is Rushdie at his absolute, almost insolently global best” (Toni Morrison).
When the famous singer Vina Apsara is caught in a devastating earthquake, she is never seen again by human eyes. This is her story, and that of Ormus Cama, the lover who finds, loses, seeks, and again finds her, over and over, throughout his own extraordinary life in music.
Their epic romance is narrated by Ormus’s childhood friend and Vina’s sometime lover, her “back-door man,” the photographer Rai, whose astonishing voice, filled with stories, images, myths, anger, wisdom, humor, and love, is perhaps the book’s true hero. Telling the story of Ormus and Vina, he finds that he is also revealing his own intimate truths.
Around these three, the uncertain world itself is beginning to crack, revealing great abysses below the surfaces of things. The Ground Beneath Her Feet is Salman Rushdie’s most gripping novel, a vision of our shaken, mutating times, a brilliant remaking of the myth of Orpheus, a novel of high (and low) comedy, high (and low) passions, high (and low) culture. It is a tale of love, death, and rock ‘n’ roll.
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Denne bog er ikke tilgængelig i øjeblikket
827 trykte sider
Oprindeligt udgivet
2024
Udgivelsesår
2024
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Vurderinger

  • Natalia Latyshevahar delt en vurderingfor 7 år siden
    👍Værd at læse
    🔮Overraskende
    🚀Opslugende

    Очень, очень сильная книга, как, впрочем, весь Рушди. Но читать, конечно, нужно только в оригинале

Citater

  • Natalia Latyshevahar citeretfor 7 år siden
    Doorman Shetty doesn’t know it, but he’s echoing Plato. This is what the great philosopher has Phaedrus say in the Symposium’s first speech about love: The gods honor zeal and heroic excellence towards love. But Orpheus … they sent back unfulfilled from Hades, sh
  • Natalia Latyshevahar citeretfor 7 år siden
    Where are you now, O Titanic seer, Prometheus of film? If the gods have punished you, if you’re chained to a pillar high up on an Alp while a vulture munches your guts, take comfort in the news. This just in: the gods are dead, but photography is alive & kicking. Olympus? Pah! It’s just a camera now.
  • Natalia Latyshevahar citeretfor 7 år siden
    Niépce, I bow my head to you. Great Nicéphore, I doff my beret. If Daguerre—like the Titan Epimetheus—was the one who opened this Pandoran box, unleashing the ceaseless click and snap, the interminable flash and sprocket of photography, still it was you, great Anarch!, who stole the gods’ gift of permanent vision, of the transformation of sight into memory, of the actual into the eternal—that is, the gift of immortality—and bestowed it upon mankind.
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