"Snow" by Orhan Pamuk

Je commence aussi un peu plus tôt aujourd'hui Snow, d'Orhan Pamuk, écrivain turc qui a eu le Prix Nobel, pour Snow justement, j'avais lu Istanbul l'été passé, autobiographie, et là enfin un peu de temps. Aussi, je le lis avec un crayon à la main, chose que je n'ai pas faite depuis des années...

Voici quelques extraits du premier chapitre :

The Silence of Snow
The journey to Kars

The silence of snow, thought the man sitting just behind the bus driver. If this were the beginning of a poem, he would have called the thing he felt inside him the silence of snow. [...] We should note straightaway that this soft, downy beauty of a coat would cause him shame and disquiet during the days he was to spend in Kars, while also furnishing a sense of security. [...] In the snowflakes whilrling ever more wildly in the wind he saw nothing of the impending blizzard but rather a promise, a sign pointing the way back to the hapiness and purity he had known once, as a child. [...] He was a poet and, as he himself has written - in an early poem still largely unknown to Turkish readers - it snows only once in our dreams. [...]
"I'm a journalist," Ka whispered in reply. This was a lie. "I'm interested in the municipal elections - and also the young women who've been committing suicide." This was true. [...] As he walked he took careful notice of the writing on the walls - the election posters, the advertisements for schools and restaurants, and the new posters that the city officials hoped would end the suicide epidemic : Human Beings are God's masterpieces, and suicide is blasphemy. [...]After a lifetime in which every experience of love was touched by shame and suffering, the prospect of falling in love filled Ka with an intense, almost instinctive, dread.