Richard Yates - Revolutionary Road

"April?"
She didn't answer.
"Look," he said. "Couldn't we sit in the car and talk about it? Instead of running all over Route Twelve?"
"Haven't I made it clear," she said, "that I don't particularly want to talk about it?"
"Okay," he said. "Okay. Jesus, April, I'm trying as hard as I can to be nice about this thing, but I-"
"How kind of you," she said. "How terribly, terribly kind of you."
"Wait a minute-" he pulled the hand from his pocket and stood straight, but then he put it back because other cars were coming. "Listen a minute." He tried to swallow but his throat was very dry. "I don't know what you're trying to prove here," he said, "and frankly I don't think you do either. But I do know one thing. I know damn well I don't deserve this."
"You're always so wonderfully definite, aren't you," she said, "on the subject of what you do and don't deserve." She swept past him and walked back to the car.
"Now, wait a minute!" He was stumbling after her in the weeds. Other cars were rushing past now, both ways, but he'd stopped caring. "Wait a minute, God damn it!"
She leaned the back of her thighs against the fender and folded her arms in an elaborate display of resignation while he jabbed and shook a forefinger in her face.
"You listen to me. This is one time you're not going to get away with twisting everything I say. This just happend to be one damn time I know I'm not in the wrong. You know what you are when you're like this?"
"Oh God, if only you'd stayed home tonight."
"You know what you are when you're like this? You're sick. I really mean that."
"And you know what you are?" Her eyes raked him up and down. "You're disgusting."
Then the fight went out of control. It quivered their arms and legs and wrenched their faces into shapes of hatred, it urged them harder and deeper into each other's weakest points, showing them cunning ways around each other's strongholds and quick chances to switch tactics, feint, and strike again. In the space of a gasp for breath it sent their memories racing back over the years for old weapons to rip the scabs off old wounds; it went on and on.

================
Tedy. Viděla jsem dřív film, než jsem četla knihu, a nebyly mi úplně jasné některé situace ve filmu, zvlášť motivace hlavních postav. Navíc román je to všeobecně doporučovaný, stáhla jsem si ho někdy minulý týden a přelouskala ve vlaku do práce za pár dní. Nějak se s ním nemůžu dobře srovnat, přitom se mi výborně četl, Yatesova angličtina je sofistikovaná, ale přitom dostatečně plynulá a přehledná, některé pasáže mi přišly dokonalé. Ale. Motivace hrdinů se mi zatemnily ještě víc, Franka jsem nenáviděla téměř od první strany (ve filmu vás roztomilý obličejík Leonarda di Capria ještě může nechat trochu na vážkách), a April nechápala a věta, která odpovídá na otázku proč to všechno? Protože on je muž? Vážně? Já vím, 1961 a tak, ale stejně. Shrnutí - výborné čtení, kterému vůbec nerozumím. Doporučuju silně a do debaty se pustím ráda.