Küçük Şeyler 3 : Yaşama Yerleşmek - Üstün Dökmen itibaren Remzi Kitabevi içinde LIT biçim

Kellie Rados _ellie_ados — The late great Frank McCourt called Let the Great World Spin a "heartbreaking symphony of a novel" and he was absolutely right. A symphony typically begins with an introduction of themes, motifs, musical notes which we will hear again and again in variation but which connect us to the whole. They will shatter and deconstruct. Spin. But they spin back. McCann's introductory five pages, as good as any beginning I've read, introduces his theme. A tightrope walker stands poised to cross between the World Trade Center Towers. It is 1974. A moment in time. We could dip our hand in Siddhartha's river. Or take a picture. McCann uses one. Philippe Petit on that fateful day, his balancing beam up and down, cross-secting the wire, a plane eerily above and between the Towers, presaging another historic moment. This is a book about intersections. People with each other and with time. And in this wonderful introduction, people look up, look out. At that moment, the walker intersects with them, people still not sure what they're seeing. Do it, asshole. Don't do it. At that moment, something falls down. Some body? The body twirled and caught and flipped, thrown about by the wind. No. A sweatshirt, fluttering. And then the man takes his first step out. Those first notes, the looking up, the looking down, the falling, fluttering, spinning, the reach for balance will all be repeated, connecting the movements that follow, each movement an interconnecting character. Things fall: a departed father's monthly check; a boy's blanket from a top bunk, meant to replace one given to a homeless drunk; a soldier in a helicopter. Old domino players sat in the courtyard, playing underneath the falling litter. People work: a chef who can "pull a trumpet line out of a string of spaghetti"; an elevator operator who aligns the elevator and the floor perfectly and "slides his foot out to test his workmanship." Things spin: break dancers; a grieving mother's memories of her son; a car and a van. Always the interconnecting notes: a woman of two shoes who "knew the floor very well"; another who "followed a straight line"; a doubt of God, when "you can't hold on"; a child running, one foot on the pavement, another on the road; a woman, descended from it all, who likes "people who unbalance me." Things bounce off each other: "all sorts of lies were flying through the air, going back and forth, colliding with each other"; that car and van again, that "was just a tap." We didn't know you lived up there. History repeats and intersects. This is a book about 9/11, although that is never mentioned. It lets us look back as well, to the racism which runs like an artery through this country. A boy who was no more than eight played the saxophone, beautifully, like some strange drummer boy from the Civil War. I loved this book, the message, the artistry. Please read it. And if you do, please listen to the notes.

Compu Touch computouchinc — Enjoyed it thoroughly. Well written. Beyond a great review of spirituality in the CF (insightful and respectful) the book has wider implications. It also gives an insight into the evolution of spirituality in Canadian society. The CF is also a great metaphor for "tested" spirituality; It examines how we fare at times when our values are confronted rather than idealized in the comfort of classrooms and how spirituality fares in an evolving world of modernization. I personally found it spoke to me working in the medical community where our values are tested regularly. It parallels our current struggle to remain "true", and define what that is, as similar themes of limited resources and apposite ethics, increasing multiculturalism, and public expectations shape our evolution. We are the rank and file. We're lucky to have the luxury to pause and consider what we value. It was nice to gain some insight as to how we've come to be. The chaplains interviewed give us insight as to how to approach our future as they work in the vanguard. I appreciate what they do.