brothers_in_arms

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“No one knows their limits till they’ve gone beyond them.”

Despre cărţile pe care le citesc (sau anime-urile pe care le urmăresc) prefer să scriu ori în timp ce sunt încă bine ancorată în lumile lor, ori imediat după ce am terminat cu ele, cât încă nu mi s-au rătăcit toate ideile în stolul tuturor ideilor care-mi aleargă brambura de la un neuron la altul. Dar când alunec pe câte o pantă de lectură rapidă şi trec prin mai multe în zile puţine, nu apuc să tastez un review decent. Daaaar, cum nu mă lasă inima să nu scriu chiar nimic, trec prin câteva idei măcar, iar prima „victimă” e un alt roman din saga Vorkosigan, Brothers in Arms, pe care l-am citit la repezeală în mini-vacanţa de Paşte (alături de ultimele pagini din Blood of the Dragons şi urmat de Boders of Infinity – ambele urmează să apară în blog post-uri mititele cât de curând).

Aşadar, nişte idei (şi, în final, nişte citate):

– novella Borders of Infinity ar trebui citită înainte de Brothers in Arms – nu de alta, dar se fac destul de multe referiri la ceea ce s-a întâmplat acolo şi simţi că ar fi trebuit să ştii despre ce e vorba. Desigur, lipsa informaţiilor nu face lectura romanului imposibilă, dovadă că eu am supravieţuit:)

brothers_in_arms2– elementele romantice cu Miles în centru sunt binevenite, dar Bujold, dacă tot începi o legătură romantică, dezvolt-o ceva mai mult, totuşi;

– ritmul dinamic al acţiunii -te ţine cu nasul în carte până la sfârşit, dar îţi dă senzaţia că autoarea s-a grăbit (sau că a avut un număr maxim de cuvinte pe care a avut voie să-l scrie);

Brothers in Arms introduce un personaj destul de important al seriei, pe „fratele” lui Miles, Mark Pierre Vorkosigan – clona creată în secret cu scopul de a-l omorî şi de a prelua puterea pe Barrayar. Ce se întâmplă între cei doi, aflaţi citiând romanul (sau dând un search pe Google, oricare variantă vă surâde);

***

“There are a number of people in the universe I’d be willing to double-cross, but my own wounded aren’t among ‘em.”

“Ivan,” Miles breathed, closing his eyes. “How, God, have I sinned against You, that You have given me Ivan—here….” God not deigning to answer, Miles smiled crookedly, and turned.

The person inside the uniform was larger than the soldier, the man more complex than his role.

Miles felt a certain sympathy. It was no pleasure commanding subordinates who failed to follow orders and sprang dangerous idiocies on you. Galeni was not going to be happy about this.

Would that the ghosts of your enemies only escorted you to hell. But no, they had to hang about your shoulder interminably, waiting until that service was called for.

Miles got the impression Galeni was rather hoping for death. Bloody kamikaze. Miles knew the fey mood inside out. You could fall in love with that grave-narrow option—it was the enemy of creative strategic thought. It was the enemy, period.

Numbly, Miles allowed himself to be bundled out the door. If his death were coming, he wanted to at least stay conscious, to spit in its eye one last time as it closed on him.

“ ‘He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day,’ and all that.”

Her theory is that principles come and go, but that human souls are immortal, and you should therefore throw in your lot with the greater part.

“Let me give you a hint,” said Miles. “There is no safety. Only varying states of risk. And failure.”

“I’m not panicking,” Quinn observed, “I’m watching you panic. It’s more entertaining.”

Coperta chineză

Coperta chineză

Competent. You make me unafraid. Unafraid to try, unafraid of what others might think.

Some attitudes couldn’t be changed; they just had to be outlived.

He can’t quit. Above life itself, he has to prove himself right. To be right redeems his every crime. To have done all that he’s done, and be wrong—unbearable!

There was no mistaking the stillness of death for the stillness of sleep or anything else; it was the absolute.

Botched beginnings could never be replayed, though they could be—Miles glanced down at his legs, seeing in his mind’s eye the artificial bones within—repaired. Sometimes.

You are what you do—choose again….