You said I killed you – haunt me, then

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Hva passer vel bedre enn å lese om tragisk kjærlighet, død og forblåste engelske sletter mens man ligger på stranda, tenkte jeg, og pakka med Wuthering Heights til Gambia. Emily Brontës eneste roman er kjent for de fleste, men jeg hadde ikke trodd at den skulle gå sånn innpå meg. I en mer eller mindre lukket verden – Thrushcross Grange, Wuthering Heights, og heiene som skiller dem fra hverandre – utspiller det seg et kaotisk kjærlighetsdrama som påvirker flere generasjoner og ødelegger alle involverte. Det tok litt tid å komme inn i den, men bare les på til det løsner, det er verdt det.

Jeg leste også ut The Bell Jar mens jeg lå og hørte på bølgene og skulle ønske jeg hadde lest den for fem år siden, oi oi oi så bra. Sylvia Plath skriver helt magisk, når jeg kom til siste side måtte jeg bla fram til begynnelsen og starte på nytt. Og den er, om mulig, enda bedre ved andre gjennomlesing. «I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig-tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor […]. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig-tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.» Livet i et nøtteskall.

Har dere lest noe bra i det siste?

TRANSLATION
What could be more fitting than to read about tragic love, death and windy english moors while lying on a beach I though, and packed Wuthering Heights with me to Gambia. Emily Brontë’s only novel is well known to most of us, but I hadn’t expected it to get to me the way it did. It’s just so dramatic, so beautiful and so tragic, and even though it took a while to get into it, just keep reading, it’s worth it. I also finished The Bell Jar while listening to the waves, and wished I read it five years ago, shit, it’s so good. Sylvia Plath’s writing is magical, I had to start over the minute I finished it, and it’s even better the second time. It’s like she’s me, except the killing herself in her mothers basement thing.