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The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Muriel Barbery

recognize that this curious book, which belongs to the 2010 reading, and I find myself rereading some of your pages , I never would come to its interior, except that it was an unexpected gift: a friend, whom we had previously given him, after reading it, was thrilled and bought several copies and gave them to us on his birthday.

Apparently, from time to time adults take the time to sit and contemplate the disaster of their lives. So grieve without understanding and, as flies that crash again and again against the same crystal, are concerned, suffer, eat, grieve and wonder about the gear that has led them where they do not want to go .

The Elegance of the Hedgehog is not a masterpiece nor a masterpiece, but it draws the reader into its pages can breathe peace, tranquility, there are jazz and jasmine tea with camellias and Russian writers.

This morning, while listening to the radio station France Inter, I have been surprised to discover that I am not one who thought he was.

How much better would be if we shared each other our insecurity, if all together we shall go in ourselves to say that the green beans and vitamin C, Although the animal feed are not lifesaving or sustain the soul.

Where is beauty? What great things, like others, are doomed to die, or in the small, unpretentious, crimping know the instant a gem of infinity?

The tea ritual, the precise repetition of the same gestures and the same taste, the sensations access to simple, authentic and refined, the license granted to everyone, without much effort, to become an aristocrat taste, because tea is the drink of the rich as it is for the poor, the tea ritual, then, has the extraordinary virtue of introducing into the absurdity of our lives a serene harmony gap. Yes, the universe conspires to emptiness, lost souls mourn the beauty around us insignificance. Then, take a cup of tea. There is silence, out hear the wind blowing, rustling the leaves fall and fly away, the cat, bathed in warm light. And each sip, the time is sublime.

But every morning, although there was an evening session and Solola have slept two hours, gets up at six and read su periódico tomándose un café bien cargado.

(...) mamá se pidió un té de jazmín y me dio a probar. Lo encontré tan rico, tan yo misma, que esta mañana he declarado que es lo que quería tomar siempre de desayuno a partir de ahora.

La camelia sobre el musgo del templo, el violeta de los montes de Kyoto, una taza de porcelana azul, esta eclosión de la belleza en el corazón mismo de las pasiones efímeras, ¿no es acaso a lo que todos aspiramos? ¿Y lo que nosotros, civilizaciones occidentales, no sabemos alcanzar?. La contemplación de la eternidad en el movimiento mismo de la vida.

I am very camellia on moss

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Tiff cats. Madrid 1936. Eduardo Mendoza

An Englishman named Anthony Whitelands arrives aboard a train to Madrid turbulent spring of 1936. Must authenticate an unknown box owned by a friend of Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera, whose economic value can be decisive for the crucial political change in Spain's history. Turbulent love affairs with women from different social classes distract the art critic before he had time to gauge how they are multiplying their persecutors, police, diplomats, politicians and spies in an atmosphere of conspiracy and riot.

The exceptional narrative skills of Eduardo Mendoza combine perfectly the seriousness of the events narrated in the presence, very subtle, of his famous sense of humor, because every tragedy is also part of the human comedy.

All of the above is as shown on the cover of the first edition of Tiff Gatos. Madrid 1936 by Eduardo Mendoza.

Mendoza, who read from the 15 years after giving me my cousin MD The Labyrinth of olives, a book that I liked and paid much . In this first book was followed by The mystery of the haunted vault, this time the book was required reading for my sister and followed, also my sister's required reading in high school, no Gurb news.

RBA in a library when edited cheaply and better than the current format, I did with the city of wonder. Upon leaving the opposition, one day I got lost and the savings he had invested it in a library that no longer exists, a light comedy and the truth about the case Savolta.

The last, The Mystery of the ladies room, Maurice or the last elections, three lives of saints, the amazing journey of Pomponio Flato ...

Forgot

a book? Maybe.

This does not mean that everyone that my cousin writer I read give me like a religion, Isabel Allende did not like.

Whitelands

Anthony, 34, reaches Spain in March 1936 to appraise the artwork of Don Alvaro del Valle and Salomero, Duke of Igualada.

Anthony zascandilea in Madrid, sometimes lost, others fled, most of the time clueless as soon as hurd known behind his back.

The art collection is not of great value pricing and causes disappointment in Anthony, who, skilled in the English Golden Age, is to nineteenth century paintings. However, the lovely Paquita, he has kept a surprise.

In the basement of the family mansion Valley lies a Velazquez that he has never seen the light and it never will. Here I would say as in the previous post, I refer to unravel the mystery out of reading the book, but the mystery was already solved by El Pais, in an article entitled A painting of Goya by José Carlos Mainer.

Goya Pictures do not appear either in the book. I do not know the title, it will be for the shootings.

Made in

missing from the book's non-participation of artists of the time and who attended the Madrid of 1933. Lorca maybe not, because from 1933 to 1934 was in New York. This poet is mentioned only when, after visiting a tavern where rocks come bullfighting, Anthony remembers seeing Ignacio Sánchez Mejías in one of his previous visits to the city and after having read the famous poem by Lorca, translated into English lose passion and interest.

not proliferate over the politicians of that era. José Antonio Primo de Rivera, Marquis of Stella, a friend of the family del Valle y enamorado de la hija mayor, Paquita; cuyos amores no llegaron a término porque Don Alvaro, imaginando el futuro del apuesto joven y de la propia España, se opuso. 

Queipo de Llano y Francisco Franco, quienes acuden al palacete de Don Álvaro, y cuyas identidades tratan de ser ocultadas. 

Azaña. 

Niceto Alcalá-Zamora. 

Como ya afirmó tras ganar el Planeta Eduardo Mendoza, Riña de gatos no es una novela histórica. Y todo ello a pesar de los fantásticos art and political dialogues that take place throughout the novel.

The book opens and closes with the painting The Death of Actaeon, a metaphor for what the children in Spain will themselves: eat them alive.

On the train that Anthony brings to Spain, as a prelude to the riots and quarrels in the streets, witness the following conversation between a Republican and a priest, rather curious:

"Republican said the priest with his thumb and said

- Here, without going any further, you have an example of what he was saying. Until four days ago, they did and deshacíann at will. Now living on borrowed time and that we're running out of hand the boinazo. Or not, father?

The priest clasped her hands in her lap and stared fixedly at the passenger.

- laughs best who laughs last, undaunted answered. ;

English left them locked in a duel of words and paraphrase. Slow and monotonous, the train continued its way through a desolate plain, leaving a thick column of smoke into the air and crystal meseteño winter. Before going back to sleep he heard the Republican argument:

- Look, father, people do not burn churches and monasteries without rhyme or reason. They have never burned a tavern, a hospital or a bullring. If the whole of Spain the people choose to burn churches with the cost of lighting, there must be. "