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snguyen 's review for:
Fünftausend Kilometer in der Sekunde
by Manuele Fior
It is not quite about who you think it is, and that narrative slight of hand hits so satisfyingly after the last rainy page, in the epilogue. It is extremely warm, happy even, in this light, and I am frustrated that many other comments appear to take this as a straightforward bittersweet tragedy, directing their sadness at the, frankly, wrong target. I feel very strongly about celebrating this warmth. It’s not quite about the kind of loss it dresses as though it were.
(But like, also, yes, “I told you not to look at me” is so, so wrenchingly sad.)
(But like, also, yes, “I told you not to look at me” is so, so wrenchingly sad.)