Name: The Bottle Cap
SKU: 68936192
Price: 1035.00 UYU
Availability: InStock
Author: Kross, J. S.
ISBN: 9798194982134

Formato

Libro Físico

Editorial

Independently published

Autor

Kross, J. S.

Encuadernación

Tapa Blanda

ISBN13

9798194982134

The Bottle Cap

Kross, J. S. (Autor) · Independently published · Tapa Blanda

Libro Nuevo Importado

Envío: 17 a 23 días háb.

$ 1.883$ 1.035

-45%

Costos de importación incluídos en el precio ✅

Libro Nuevo

Quedan 100 unidades

$ 1.035

Llega entre el 27 Oct y el 04 Nov a Montevideo, Montevideo. Seleccionar ubicación

Agregar a lista de deseos

Reseña del libro "The Bottle Cap"

He is seventy-eight years old, and the state would like him to prove that the war happened to him. The form asks Joaquim Pataco for eleven documents. One of them requires a certificate confirming that the village he was born in used to exist. Another requires a service record that an archive in Lisbon has looked for and cannot find — which means that the three worst years of his life have not, technically, been filed. He was born in Panóias, outside Braga, in a house his father built in the evenings, the fourth of nine children in a family that lost exactly one and went on saying her name at the table every night for sixty years. At nine he was ill, and there was an egg for him and no egg for the others, and nobody discussed it. At eleven they put him behind the counter of a green wooden kiosk at a fork in the road, where he discovered something about a bottle cap, a floor, and the fact that nobody was watching it. Then the letter came, and he went to Africa for three years, and came back, and built a life out of what he had noticed. The Bottle Cap is a novel about a small worthless object that outlives the thing it was made for. About the difference between the person at the counter and the machine behind it. About a family, a coin, a clock that gained eleven minutes a day, and eight hundred years of paperwork that a village survives by ignoring. For readers of quiet, dry, unsentimental fiction — where the humour lives in the observation, and the tenderness is reserved for people, never for institutions.