Michael Cunningham - By Nightfall

"The world is exhausting sometimes, isn't it?" she says.
Peace made. And yet. Rebecca is capable of remembering every slight, and of trotting out months' worth of Peter's crimes when an argument heat up. Has he committed some infraction tonight, something he'll hear about in June or July?
"Mm-hm," he says. "You know, I think we can definitively say that Elena is serious about the hair and glasses, et cetera."
"I told you she was."
"You never did."
"You just don't remember."
The cab stops for the light at Sixty-fifth Street.
Here they are: a middle-aged couple in the back of a cab (this driver's name is Abel Hibbert, he's young and jumpy, silent, fuming). Here are Peter and his wife, married for twenty-one (almost twenty-two) years, companionable by now, prone to banter, not much sex anymore but not no sex, not like other long-married couples he could name, and yeah, at a certain age you can imagine bigger accomplishments, a more potent and inextinguishable satisfaction, but what you've made for yourself isn't bad, it's not bad at all. Peter Harris, hostile child, horrible adolescent, winner of various second prizes, has arrived at this ordinary moment, connected, engaged, loved, his wife's breath warm on his neck, going home.
Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me, doop doop de doop...
That song again.
The light changes. The driver accelerates.

Tuhle knihu jsem pro dnešek vybrala hlavně proto, že zítra zmizí. Mám ji na Kindle, půjčenou od P~O a zítra se mu sama vrátí. Přečetla jsem ji o víkendu za pár hodin, ani ne proto, že bych musela tak rychle, ale protože se mi nechtělo opustit ten pocit, který jsem při čtení zažívala, těžko popsatelnou směs nadšení a zděšení z toho, jak reálné a neodvratitelné mi to připadá. Cunningham má smysl pro detail, a dokáže ve dvou větách vystihnout atmosféru, náladu hlavního hrdiny, stísněnosti všedního dne. Doufám, že brzy bude i česky.