von "Ottessa Moshfegh" in Alle Kategorien
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Der Tod in ihren Händen
Spieldauer: 7 Std. und 37 Min.
4 out of 5 stars
4.5 out of 5 stars
3.5 out of 5 stars
Eine Kriminalgeschichte der anderen Art: spannend, beängstigend, bewegend. Bei Sonnenaufgang läuft Vesta mit ihrem Hund eine Runde durch den Wald - die tägliche Routine einer einsamen alten Frau -, als sie einen Zettel findet: "Ihr Name war Magda. Niemand wird je erfahren, wer sie getötet hat. Hier ist ihre Leiche." Obwohl von der Leiche jede Spur fehlt, lässt Vesta der Gedanke an einen Mord nicht mehr los. Wer war Magda? Und wer könnte ihr Mörder sein? Die Aufklärung dieser Fragen wird zu Vestas Mission.
It’s the year 2000 in a city aglitter with wealth and possibility; what could be so terribly wrong? Our narrator has many of the advantages of life: young, thin, pretty, a recent Columbia graduate, she lives in an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan paid for, like everything else, by her inheritance. But there is a vacuum at the heart of things, and it isn’t just the loss of her parents in college, or the way her Wall Street boyfriend treats her, or her sadomasochistic relationship with her alleged best friend.
Our narrator should be happy, shouldn't she? She's young, thin, pretty, a recent Columbia graduate; she works an easy job at a hip art gallery and lives in an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan paid for, like the rest of her needs, by her inheritance. But there is a dark and vacuous hole in her heart, and it isn't just the loss of her parents, or the way her Wall Street boyfriend treats her, or her sadomasochistic relationship with her best friend, Reva. It's the year 2000 in a city aglitter with wealth and possibility; what could be so terribly wrong?
The Christmas season offers little cheer for Eileen Dunlop, an unassuming yet disturbed young woman, trapped between her role as her alcoholic father's carer and her day job as a secretary at the prison. When the charismatic Rebecca Saint John arrives as the new counsellor at the prison, Eileen is enchanted and unable to resist what appears to be a miraculously budding friendship.
While on her daily walk with her dog in a secluded woods, a woman comes across a note, handwritten and carefully pinned to the ground by stones. "Her name was Magda. Nobody will ever know who killed her. It wasn't me. Here is her dead body." But there is no dead body. Our narrator is deeply shaken; she has no idea what to make of this. She is new to this area, alone after the death of her husband, and she knows no one. Becoming obsessed with solving this mystery, our narrator imagines who Magda was and how she met her fate.
While on her daily walk with her dog in the nearby woods, our protagonist comes across a note, handwritten and carefully pinned to the ground with stones. Her name was Magda. Nobody will ever know who killed her. It wasn't me. Here is her dead body. Shaky even on her best days, she is also alone and new to this area, having moved here from her long-time home after the death of her husband, and now deeply alarmed. Her brooding about the note grows quickly into a full-blown obsession as she explores multiple theories about who Magda was and how she met her fate.
Salem, Massachusetts, 1851: McGlue is in the hold, still too drunk to be sure of name or situation or orientation - he may have killed a man. That man may have been his best friend. Intolerable memory accompanies sobriety.
Hun har alt. Hun er ung, flot, slank, hun er nyuddannet fra Columbia, lever af en stor arv og har en lejlighed på Manhattan. I New York år 2000 er den moderne verden på sit absolut højeste, alt er tilgængeligt, og døgnets timer skal udnyttes maksimalt. At sove, i stedet for at arbejde eller nyde, betragtes som en svaghed. Men samtidig udskrives sovepiller, som var det slik. Hun beslutter - efter at være blevet fyret for sine time-lange lure på arbejdet - at sove i et år. Måske er en kemisk dvaletilstand den eneste vej ud af en speedet samtid?