Eastside Book Club

Hoje eu escrevo para contar sobre o nosso Book Club. Um grupo de 11 meninas brasileiras, ratas de biblioteca, aqui da minha vizinhanca resolveram ler o mesmo livro e se juntarem pra discuti-lo.  Como ja mencionei antes,  eu moro no estado de Ohio, na area de Cleveland, numa cidadezinha chamada Shaker Hts. 

Aqui ha um rio chamado Cuyahoga River, que divide a area em East e West. Bom eu moro no East. e estamos iniciando o Primeiro Clube do Livro do Eastside de Cleveland.

O nosso primeiro encontro sera no final de Agosto e o Livro escolhido por Eveline, a nossa anfitria, 

foi Before I Go to Sleep do britanico S. J. Watson.

Before I Go to Sleep is the first novel by S. J. Watson published in Spring 2011. It became both a Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller^[1] and has been translated into over 30 languages,^[2] and has become a bestseller in France, Canada, Bulgaria and the Netherlands.^[3] It reached number 7 on the US bestseller list, the highest position for a debut novel by a British author since J. K. Rowling. The New York Times described the author as an "out-of-nowhere literary sensation".^[4] He wrote the novel between shifts whilst working as a National Health Service (NHS) audiologist.^[5]

The novel is a psychological thriller about a woman suffering from anterograde amnesia.^[6]She wakes every day with no knowledge of who she is and the novel follows her as she tries to reconstruct her memories from a journal she has been keeping. She learns that she has been seeing a doctor who is helping her to recover her memory, that her name is Christine Lucas, that she is 47 years old and married and has a son. As her journal grows it casts doubts on the truth behind this knowledge and sets her on a terrifying journey of discovery.^[3]

Watch live streaming video from goodreads at livestream.com

 Confesso que ainda estou no inicio da leitura, mas ja dei uma googada basica pra ver se vou gostar do livro e estou adorando. Aqui estao alguns quotes do livro que encontrei:

S.J. Watson > Quotes

“We’re constantly changing facts, rewriting history to make things easier, to make them fit in with our preferred version of events. We do it automatically. We invent memories. Without thinking. If we tell ourselves something happened often enough we start to believe it, and then we can actually remember it.” 

“What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?” 

“I want him to be happy. And I want you to be happy, too. Even if you can only find that happiness without me.” 

“It's so difficult, isn't it? To see what's going on when you're in the absolute middle of something? It's only with hindsight we can see things for what they are.” 

“I cannot imagine how I will cope when I discover that my life is behind me, has already happened, and I have nothing to show for it. No treasure house of collection, no wealth of experience, no accumulated wisdom to pass on. What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?” 

“I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my grief. It felt better, somehow, to be helpless. I didn't feel ashamed.” 

“I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd fought for you. I was weak and stupid.” 

“I will never abandon you. I love you too much.” 

“There are memories I a better off without. Things better lost forever.” 

“Do you trust me?
The question is usually asked before an admission that such trust is misplaced.” 

“‎"Is it possible to both want and not want something at the same time? For desire to ride with fear?” 

“With him everything is a test, affection is measured, that given weighed against that which has been received, and the balance, more often than not, disappointing him.” 

“Thoughts race, as if, in a mind devoid of memory, each idea has too much space to grow and move, to collide with others in a shower of sparks before spinning off into its own distance.” 

“There were never going to be any happy endings for me. I know that now. But that is all right.” 

“And then, when there is nothing else between us but love, we can begin to find a way to truly be together.” 

“…I feel like he’s taking advantage of me. Advantage of my illness. He thinks he can rewrite history in any way that he likes and I will never know, never be any the wiser. But I do know. I know exactly what he’s doing. And so I don’t trust him. In the end he is pushing me away, Dr. Nash. Ruining everything.” 

“I am an adult, but a damaged one.” 

I step back further, until I feel cold tiles against my back. It is then I get the glimmer that I associate with memory. As my mind tries to settle on it, it flutters away, like ashes caught in a breeze, and I realize that in my life there is a then, a before, though before what I cannot say, and there is a now, and there is nothing between the two but a long, silent emptiness that has led me here, to me and him, in this house.” 

“There was a letter, tucked among the pictures. It was addressed to Santa Claus and written in blue crayon. The jerky letters danced across the page. He wanted a bike, he said, or a puppy, and promised to be good. It was signed, and he had added his age. Four.
I do not know why, but as I read it, my world seemed to collapse. Grief exploded in my chest like a grenade. I had been feeling calm - not happy, not even resigned, but calm - and that serenity vanished, as if vaporized. Beneath it, I was raw.” 

“I closed my eyes and he kissed my eyelids, barely brushing them with his lips. I felt safe, at home. I felt as if here, against his body, was the only place in which I belonged. The only place I had ever wanted to be. We lay in silence for a while, holding each other, our skin merging, our breathing synchronized. I felt as if silence might allow the moment to last for ever, which would still not be enough.” 

“Whatever enjoyment I might have had at the time would disappear overnight like snow melting on a warm roof.” 

“This is dying everyday. Over and over.” 

“He forgave you though,' said Claire. 'He never held it against you, ever. All he cared about was that you lived, and that you got better. He would have given everything for that. Everything. Nothing else mattered.” 

“There are memories I'm better of without. Things better lost forever.”
― S.J. Watson, Before I Go To Sleep 

Do que ja li, o que mais me chamou a atenção é a forma como o autor descreve as cenas: ele simplesmente nos transporta, incrivel! É impossível ler toda a narrativa sem se imaginar lá, assistindo a tudo acontecendo diante dos nossos olhos. Esta maneira de dar vida à história nos faz querer saber mais e mais sobre ela (pena que li só um trechinho. Já quero mais!).