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Diary of winter

· The novel ·

At sixty four years old, a man "entering into the winter" of his life decides to write a diary. The result is a fascinating catalogue of faces, places, tastes, emotions, chills and joys, held together by the mirror placed in front of the man who is writing. The result - Diary of winter (Einaudi, 2012) by Paul Auster – is a treasure box, capable of offering the reader a panoply of plot lines on which to meditate, the strongest and most beautiful of which have female variations. Passages of admiration and love for the woman who, in "an unexpected reversal of fortune," has been his wife for 30 years; a sweet poem dedicated to the memory of his unborn child, always imagined as a girl with red hair, who now would be 43 years old. The long pages dedicated to the memory of his mother, a fascinating woman, disordered and in search of herself, "breathless and smiling." A mother who was loved and admired, but above all a mother who has kept Paul Auster constantly surprised ever since he was little. Surprised by what is perhaps one of the most unexpected acquisitions for a child: his mother was, is and will always be something out of the ordinary.




St. Peter’s Square

Dec. 10, 2019