"You can lower your eyes to those who love us, but you can lower your eyes to those who want to"
The Plot: really know if a yellow-eyed crocodile has eaten or not her husband Antonio, who died in Kenya, for Josephine is no longer important. With money earned from sales of its best seller, left Courbevoie, in the Paris suburbs for a chic apartment in chic Passy. Instead, his sister Iris, who had attempted to attribute the writing of the novel, ended up paying the folly of their deception in a clinic for people with depression. Now free, always shy and unhappy, attentive spectator of wacky comedy and sometimes hostile offer that his new neighbors, Josephine seems in search of love. Sleep on the youngest daughter Zoe, tormented and rebellious teenager, and sees the success of the ambitious eldest daughter Hortense, who lives in London is launching a career as a fashion designer. Until the day when a series of murders destroys the serenity of his middle-class neighborhood, and she escapes to a little aggression.
My comment: A book "sparkling", with an unexpected final, where Josephine is the undisputed queen of the scene, surrounded by many characters, each with its own characteristics: the insensitive Iris - her sister, Henriette terrible mother, her friend Shirley and her son Gary, his daughters Zoe and Hortense , its false and true love - Luke and Philippe.
Rejoice, emotion, intrigue and surprise at the end.
Characters
Josephine
"Joséphine relied on his life because he sends them clues, ideas, details that would turn into stories. That was how he wrote his first book. Keeping your eyes wide open to the world. By listening, observing, smelling . It 's so that you get older. aging when we lock up, we refuse to see, to feel, to breathe.'s life and writing often go hand in hand. "
"And what do you do when love digging a hole in the heart, a hole so big that it seems a burst of shrapnel, so big that you can see the sky through? He wondered Josephine going appointment with Luca. Who would tell me what it feels for me? I dare not tell him I love him, I fear that too strong an expression. I know that in my saying that I love is the question of whether he loves me, that I dare not utter for fear of seeing him get away with his hands in the pockets of Montgomery. A woman in love is to force a woman uneasy, painful? [...] My misfortune is that I can not be light in love. I would throw myself to the man's neck that I love, but I get so scared that I offer humbly to scare the face because you should give a kiss. I love him in secret. When I looked up at me in the act catches my eye, I tune in unison with his mood. I get the love that he wants me to be. I inflamed a distance, but as it approaches, I control. [...] How do you do when feelings overflow? If one expresses them ill get the opposite effect, when a flower has to offer, it gives them with the corolla at the bottom and the stem to the air, if not the recipient sees only thorns and there is evil. I do so with the sentiments, I offer it upside down. "
" The squeezed him, seeking his mouth as if to bite her. The kiss was brutal, imperious, pushed her against the door of the oven hot, Jo wanted to release, Philippe plaque, the forced her mouth, as if trying fumbled a little 'of stuffing, a little' of the stuffing that Jo had mixed with his fingers, as if he licks his fingertips mix the filling, the taste of prunes that filled mouth, salivation, Philippe, groaned Jo, Philippe oh! The retreats, buried his mouth in his. So much time, Jo, so much time ... and laid them on the white apron, the crumpled, pulled up, pushed her against the oven door, penetrated the mouth, entered the neck, pushed aside the white blouse, caressing the warm skin, down with the fingers on her breasts, leaned her mouth on every inch of skin captured the shirt, the apron, put an end to days and days of torture that call waiting. [...] It was then that a kiss? "It was like in the books, when the earth opens up into two, and the mountains crumbled, and he signed with the flower to die on your lips, that force that rose from the floor and made her forget her sister, her two daughters in the lounge, the tramp with the scarred face on the tape, the sad look of Luke, to hurl it into the arms of a man. [...] "I am full of ten and a half minutes of great, great happiness . Will I see the film of this kiss, and I will do. Crush play, stop, rewind the film, kiss in slow motion, stop, rewind, kiss in slow motion .... "
"There was a religious fervor in his way to surrender to love. As if struggling because in the midst of the rubble of the world, remains the light between the two bodies making love and love really do not mimic the gestures and positions. A spark that turns a simple body and rubbing of the skin in a burning brazier. That thirst for absolute might scare him, but Philippe did not ask for nothing but drink at its source. The future has a taste of the lips of a woman. They are the conquerors, they are the ones that move the borders. We are ephemeral youths who are sent into their lives as extras, but the main role in them. I'm okay, Philippe is said breathing the scent of Josephine, I want to learn how to love her. In the past I have loved a beautiful picture book. I hunger for other readings. To love as we start the adventure. Any man who thinks he knows what happens in the mind of a woman is a fool and an ignoramus. Or pretentious. He would never have believed that she would come looking for him in de hors of an English pub. But ... was placed in front of him. He wanted to know. Women always want to know. "
" I'm so happy, I would take a gull, whisper my secret to your ear, and that he flown all the way up in the sky "
"It should always be the case when one loves. Without conditions. Non-judgmental. Without established criteria, preferences. I was not enough, is not it? Are not enough. Never, never, never enough ... This thing has ruined my childhood, ruined my life as a woman and is preparing to sabotage my love .. [...] Do not be cured by having a mother who does not love you. Dig a large hole in the heart of love and we want to fill it! Did not get enough, you always doubted himself, we tell ourselves that we do not deserve love, which are not worth a split zero.
Iris
"No, he told himself, feeling attacked from sleep in the midst of working to find a solution, it takes me away, a new husband. Richer, stronger, more important than Philippe. A great husband . What surprised me, I subdue, before whom I kneel like a girl. That takes my life to hand me back in the flow of the world. What has money, relationships, important dinners. I'm still beautiful. As soon as I get out of Here, again become the beautiful and magnificent Iris. "
"I'm afraid Jo, I knew that I fear ... [...] Money is not never made me happy. E ' strange, if you think about. All you have to do to give more money and so is not that the world is better or that people are better. You see them whistling down the street, you? No. With the money, you're never satisfied. That there is always someone else who has more than us. Maybe you're right, there is only love that can really give a feeling of fullness. But as you learn to love? You know, you? Everybody talks about it, but nobody even knows what it is. You repeat continually that we must love, love, but where can you learn? Explain, "" self-forgetfulness, "murmured Josephine.
"What do I care? This man taught me love. I train from a distance. A shiver of pleasure the cracks between his legs and curled up because it continued to burn in the belly. So, is this love? This striking wound it makes me want to die ... This delightful expectation that we no longer know who we are and we send the docile head, to get us through the reins, blindfolding, lead to the pole of self. I will go to the extreme with him. I will ask him for forgiveness for insulting him. He tried to get me perched on the path of love, and I stepped on the foot like a spoiled child. Demanded an oath, a kiss, and he made me entering a sacred precinct. I did not realize anything. "
" O, ye wandering stars, erratic thoughts, I beg you, go away, let me speak to the beloved, let the benefit of his presence! You are my joy, you are my happiness, you are my joy, you're my good morning. You are mine, I'm yours forever and will be so! Tell me, my beloved, why did you let my soul I tried for so long, so ardently, not allowed to find? I I've searched through the night's enjoyment of this world. I crossed the mountains and fields, like a senseless horse without a bridle, but eventually you I found and rest, happy, peace, light on your breast - Henry Suso, 1300-1366. "
Hortense
"The emotion was a luxury she could not afford. Every time I was about to succumb, blocking everything. Clicks, clack, closed access to the ears. This continues to be helpful in itself. It remained her best friend. It 's the problem with the emotions. You sabotage. We reduce to pieces. You fall in love, and suddenly you find too fat, too thin, her breasts too small, too heavy, too high, too low, too high with his nose, his mouth is too thin, yellow teeth, greasy hair, silly, sticky, silly, someone who talks too much, that an evil laugh, a wetsuit. You're not your best friend. [...] Then he had learned. To stop the sweating, to stop the tears, the square block of chocolate that would have made an ounce of grease, to block the sebaceous gland that would be transformed into pimple, candy what would become cavities. Blocked all access of emotion. The girl who wanted to be her friend, the boy and tried to kiss her back. He did not want to take any risks. Every time he threatened to let go, he thought about face drenched with sweat dripping sweat of his father, and emotion is suddenly stopped. Then woe to those who told her that looked like his mother! It was like calling into question the work of his whole life. "
" I'm not made of steel, are a person with emotions, feelings, they said, with amazement serious who has always believed invincible and suddenly discovers a flaw in the luminaire. I allow myself ten minutes of rest and then again wield the weapons. It was always agree with itself to say that emotions cause serious harm to health. "
Shirley and Gary
" - Women are so pragmatic! Think of the special, advanced mute with an implacable logic, you organize your life. Why am I the only girls who know exactly where they want go, what they want to do as they do ... do do do! They just have this word in your mouth!
- Maybe it's because we are embedded in all the time. Impastato, wash, iron, sew, cook, clean or defend ourselves from the dead hands of men: Do not dream, indeed!
- We, we ...
- not the same! Fourteen years after her period and we have no choice. We must come to terms. At eighteen we understand that very soon we will have to fight twice more than a man, work twice as hard, if we want to exist. In the following we children, we take them in her womb for nine months, give us the seasick, kicking, tearing us coming into the world, yet more practical details! Then you have to wash them, feed them, dress them, weigh them, put the cream on her ass. DO not ask questions, and most importantly we do the rest. Hours worked by day, belly dancing for the Man in the evening. We are continuously undertaken to do, there will be few girls who live in the clouds, with the nose in the air! You do one thing: men do! The instruction manual is written for ages in your genes, you do it effortlessly. We have to fight all the time ... we end up becoming pragmatic, as you say! "
" Shirley was not at home when it was the love life of her son. When he was a child talk about everything. For girls, Tampax, desire, love, beard that grows, the masterpieces of literature and books from two soldiers who had seen the film in slow motion and film-trash, disk and hard to dance to relax, recipes, cooking, age of the wine of life after death and the role of fathers in the life of a boy who did not know his father. They had grown up together, hand in hand, had shared a secret heavy, facing dangers and threats, without losing solidarity. But now ... He was a man with hair all over, two Braccioni, two big feet, a deep voice. It was almost intimidated. No longer dared to ask questions. Preferred when speaking of himself without that she would ask him anything. "
