Last night I read the most touching book I've read in... well, in a really long time -- Uncle Rudolf, by Paul Bailey.
Why Paul Bailey is so fascinated with Romania is still a mystery to me, but I can only be glad an English author has written a book about the exile of a partly Jewish Romanian. He has managed to play so well with those Romanian words, and most importantly, with the idea of language as part of an identity. I like this review of the book:
It is Bailey's triumph to show a pan-European catastrophe through an ironic technique of miniaturism and understatement that aestheticises mass terror, while indicating the unfathomable depths of human bestiality over which language is a veneer.You can also read this review (in Romanian).
*****The few pages about Dinu Lipatti's final recital brought me to tears... so beautifully written.
I've been looking for some recordings of Dinu Lipatti (on vinyl, if possible) for quite a while, and haven't found anything yet (T_T) Until I find sth, I'll have to make do with what is available on youtube.