Bookwell Oy 2011, 205 pages
Anna’s memories are like random pieces disconnected from both time and space.
She remembers bits and pieces of her summer cottage and rowboat on an island, her husband Antti, his tragic death and that amazing day when a whale was spotted swimming in the River Thames.
She also remembers mornings when she woke up alone, made coffee, listened to the news, looked at the clock and thought only fourteen more hours and then I can go back to sleep.
Not only do her thoughts wander and hide, but her body as well. When she feels disconnected from herself, she leaves, walks for hours, unable to stop. Or tries to find a place where she can be alone, whether it be a closet or a cold forest.
How much of one’s sense of self is composed of memories? And does it matter in the end if these memories are distorted – or even real for that matter? For the mind cannot tell the difference.
“Have you gone to a doctor?”
“That was of no help.”
“Help for what?”
This novel is so readable, it hooked me immediately. I love the clear language and how it is funny at times and even borders on the surreal now and then, despite the wistfulness of it all.
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