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Chargement... Pillion Riders (1993)par Elisabeth Russell Taylor
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Appartient à la série éditorialeVirago Modern Classics (520)
I do not remember how we were introduced - for we must have been - or anything of the discussion that surely arose when I chose to travel with Jean-Claude rather than my husband. I can only recall - and this vividly - how, wearing my tight-skirted black velvet suit, my new pearl choker and the little half-veil that was so fashionable that year, I rode across Paris with my arms clasped tight round a man to whom I had not spoken and had not closely observed, yet to whom I felt inextricably bound.' Opal, gamine and sensitive, has been married off by her father to an elderly business associate, Helmut Gressinger, and lives an encapsulated life of luxury in London. When Helmut takes her to Paris, she falls passionately in love with a young French composer of scant means and morals. This is a novel that explores the conflicting demands of passion and morality, the painful battle between head and heart. Aucune description trouvée dans une bibliothèque |
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Google Books — Chargement... GenresClassification décimale de Melvil (CDD)813Literature English (North America) American fictionClassification de la Bibliothèque du CongrèsÉvaluationMoyenne:
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This book is not what you might imagine at first; far from being a light hearted account of teenage frolics on the continent, there is a very dark side as we get to know Jean-Claude's family, immersed in misery, and Jean-Claude himself, immoral, anti-Semitic, trying in vain to recreate his happy childhood...
The descriptions are exquisite and immerse you in the France (Paris, Provence and la Sologne) of yesteryear:
'The narrow street that led into the town was lined with tall, thin houses painted pale fruit colours- apricot, raspberry and greengage. Each had a balcony at first-floor level on which geraniums bloomed in old tins...I heard shop shutters shooting up, greetings being exchanged, children and dogs being admonished. Where the street broadened into a square, the houses were swathed in plumbago and bougainvillea growing valiantly out of the cobbled pavement.' ( )