О прочитанном в июне. Так вышло, что депрессия...

About read in June.

It turned out that depression not only did not kill me, but somewhere, even I began to cope with it. The battle at the Black Gate is, of course, yet to be done, and I still have not defended Minas Tirit in my mind, but Helm's Pad seems to have passed. The Rohan cavalry in the form of tablets arrived in time.
But this is so, background information, as after the post (here I would go to a mixture of Latin with Nizhny Novgorod and call it the post-May post for puns, but I won’t) read about (contra read? - no, reject!) in May I promised to write about what I read in June. So...

1. Juan Rulfo "Pedro Paramo".
It seems to be one of the founding novels of my so dearly beloved magical realism. But somehow he didn’t enter. Everything seems to be there, as I love - an unknown lure, and even an element of the saga. In a nutshell - the hero comes by the will of the deceased mother to visit his father, but it turns out that both the father is dead and relatives are dead and the whole village is dead. And they, their mother, still live in their afterlife in the form of ghosts. And in parallel with this is a story about Pedro Paramo himself - the father of the protagonist. And it’s like I should have penetrated, but it didn’t work out. Maybe the translation is not so hot, or maybe I just chose the wrong time for reading. Or maybe the book just turned out to be weaker than I expected.
6/10

2. Juan Rulfo "The Plain on Fire" (storybook)
It's worse here. The well-conveyed life of the Mexican peasants in the revelry of military revolutionary thrash and fumes. Everything is very bad and sad. Like, apparently, everywhere at that time.
5/10

3. Anthony Dorr "The Collector of Shells" (storybook)
But it was awesome. In principle, it is not entirely true to consider this a collection of short stories, but rather it is a collection of small stories and in almost every lifetime. It’s a very bad turn, I know, but to write something like “each story depicts a small Universe of an individual person and the interpenetration of universes” would somehow be quite metyon.

4. Erland Lou Doppler.
The book begins with the killing of moose cow. And I sincerely wanted to close it on this, but I got involved and not in vain. In fact, this prequel to the chic Volvo trucks, and then everything is as usual with Lou. Peppy primitivism and reasoning about everything and nothing. From the ideas of exchanging goods and goods without taking into account money to the adaptation of Lord of the Rings.
8/10

5. Erland Lou, "Recount."
But this is the most trash thing in Lou, probably. Everything is as usual, plus random killings, thoughts about the unrecognition of the poet and poetry, and the immortal elderly poetess. In general, the Viking spirit is strong in the Norwegians, they still know how to push.
7/10

6. Alberto Rui Sanchez "The Secret Gardens of Mogador"
Probably one of the best books about love. And about love in its physical embodiment. You know, having sex is a funny thing, few people can describe scenes of intimacy so that it doesn’t look like a porn story on one side or a feuilleton squeezing laughter on the other. And at Sanchez it turns out and it turns out perfectly. But, of course, the book as part of great books, about the search for truth by exhaustive search. There is another part, but there is about the search for truth by collecting.
9/10

7. Alan Lightman "Einstein's Dreams"
Amazingly multifaceted thing. In principle, this is not even a novel as such, not a single picture, but a collection of sketches on the theme of different options for the passage of time in different versions of the Universe and the relationship of man with Time as a system. Probably, after the onset of the Singularity, we will all take up the matter of time, and then Lightman's book will become a guiding light for many and light the way.
10/10

8. Alan Lightman "Benito's Friend"
A good description of the formation of the American generation, forgive me, Dear Reader, this stamp, the scientific intelligentsia to which Lightman himself belonged. And he, for a minute, is not only a writer, but also a professor of physics.
7/10

9. Alberto Mendes "Blind Sunflowers"
One of the most terrible, difficult and tragic things I have read in my entire life. The hopelessness of this book, like the harmony of the world from a BG song, knows no bounds.
For a long time, for me the best anti-war book was the “arrow of the time or the nature of crime” by Amis, but now in my personal rating there is another great anti-war and preaching book of humanism.
Perhaps I am subjective, or perhaps for some reason my empathy has grown to the size of my bookcase and I feel too much pain that does not concern me.
And perhaps the book of the great modern Spaniard echoes the opera of the great Italian - "Longing." There also is a moment of gaining greatness through the fall.
10/10

10. John Steinbeck "About mice and people"
The end of July turned out to be minor. For a bad misfortune (after all, if there is complete happiness, then he must have the exact opposite) he had to finish off with something else from Remarque or Zweig, but the month was over and the post-modern July is waiting for me.
I do not know what to write about the classics of literature describing the times when everything was very, very bad. The only plus is that after this book, unlike the "sunflowers", I do not want to go out the window and sob all night.
8/10