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leonorgranja 's review for:
A Morte de Ivan Ilitch
by Leo Tolstoy
Rest in peace, Ivan Ilitch.
In is "normal" way of living, trying to fit in the world, Ivan Ilitch is our representation and, through his death, he turns into the personification of all our fears, anxieties and regrets.
The last pages of this book are terrifying and wonderful, in a clear expression of the human desperation to justify the meaning of life and personal existence.
In the preface of the specific edition I read, António Lobo Antunes inserts the questions that fall upon us as soon as we finish this masterpiece: was it about death or was it a refutation of it? He thinks it might be both and he is probably right. As for me, I believe that this book was, above anything else, about life and about everything that makes it prevail over the darkness and uncertainty of what's after it.
It is a masterpiece about the most pure truth about the human existence: all that lives must one day cease to be.
In is "normal" way of living, trying to fit in the world, Ivan Ilitch is our representation and, through his death, he turns into the personification of all our fears, anxieties and regrets.
The last pages of this book are terrifying and wonderful, in a clear expression of the human desperation to justify the meaning of life and personal existence.
In the preface of the specific edition I read, António Lobo Antunes inserts the questions that fall upon us as soon as we finish this masterpiece: was it about death or was it a refutation of it? He thinks it might be both and he is probably right. As for me, I believe that this book was, above anything else, about life and about everything that makes it prevail over the darkness and uncertainty of what's after it.
It is a masterpiece about the most pure truth about the human existence: all that lives must one day cease to be.