평점 : 7 . 5
육신의 기능을 거의 다 상실한 노년의 노아가 한평생 사랑해 온, 알츠하이머 병에 걸려 과거의 기억을 완전히 상실한 앨리에게 그들의 한평생의 사랑의 기록인 노트북을 읽어준다. 두 남녀의 뜨겁고 열렬한 사랑을 잔잔하게 묘사한 미국 베스트셀러.
A touching dual tale of love lost and love found is discovered in a faded, well-worn notebook and in a man's gentle battle to reach an aging woman who cannot remember the most cherished moments of her life. Reprint.
In a testimony to the lasting power of love, a man tells an elderly woman a story from a faded old notebook, his voice relating the heartbreaking tale of two lovers and their fifty-year journey to happiness
|서점||판매가 → 할인가(할인율) 판매가 할인가란?||적립금(적립률)||구매정보|
||0원(0%)||구매하기||유료배송||대한민국1등인터넷서점! 전국당일배송, 최저가200%보상, 쿠폰할인+2천원추가적립|
||143원(2%)||구매하기||유료배송 빠른책||신간무료배송, 회원가입시1천원지급, 최고55%할인, 주문1시간후매장수령(빠른책)|
||80원(1%)||구매하기||유료배송 바로드림||최고 71%할인, 최저가 보상, 바로드림/바로배송|
||370원(5%)||구매하기||유료배송||최고 50% 할인, 2천원 추가 적립 서울/경기 당일배송|
||80원(1%)||구매하기||유료배송||국내/해외도서 최다보유! 신규가입 2천원 할인쿠폰 즉시사용가능!|
||442원(5%)||구매하기||유료배송||[T멤버십50%할인/최대1만원,신간도서] 3만원 이상 구매시 1,000포인트 추가 적립|
Who am I? And how, I wonder, will this story end?
The sun has come up and I am sitting by a window that is foggy with the breath of a life gone by. I'm a sight this morning: two shirts, heavy pants, a scarf wrapped twice around my neck and tucked into a thick sweater knitted by my daughter thirty birthdays ago. The thermostat in my room is set as high as it will go, and a smaller space heater sits directly behind me. It clicks and groans and spews hot air like a fairytale dragon, and still my body shivers with a cold that will never go away, a cold that has been eighty years in the making. Eighty years, I think sometimes, and despite my own acceptance of my age, it still amazes me that I haven't been warm since George Bush was president. I wonder if this is how it is for everyone my age.
My life? It isn't easy to explain. It has not been the rip-roaring spectacular I fancied it would be, but neither have I burrowed around with the gophers. I suppose it has most resembled a bluechip stock: fairly stable, more ups than downs, and gradually trending upward over time. A good buy, a lucky buy, and I've learned that not everyone can say this about his life. But do not be misled. I am nothing special; of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.
The romantics would call this a love story, the cynics would call it a tragedy. In my mind it's a little bit of both, and no matter how you choose to view it in the end, it does not change the fact that it involves a great deal of my life and the path I've chosen to follow. I have no complaints about my path and the places it has taken me; enough complaints to fill a circus tent about other things, maybe, but the path I've chosen has always been the right one, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Time, unfortunately, doesn't make it easy to stay on course. The path is straight as ever, but now it is strewn with the rocks and gravel that accumulate over a lifetime. Until three years ago it would have been easy to ignore, but it's impossible now. There is a sickness rolling through my body; I'm neither strong nor healthy, and my days are spent like an old party balloon: listless, spongy, and growing softer over time.
I cough, and through squinted eyes I check my watch. I realize it is time to go. I stand from my seat by the window and shuffle across the room, stopping at the desk to pick up the notebook I have read a hundred times. I do not glance through it. Instead I slip it beneath my arm and continue on my way to the place I must go.
I walk on tiled floors, white in color and speckled with gray. Like my hair and the hair of most people here, though I'm the only one in the hallway this morning. They are in their rooms, alone except for television, but they, like me, are used to it. A person can get used to anything, if given enough time.
I hear the muffled sounds of crying in the distance and know exactly who is making those sounds. Then the nurses see me and we smile at each other and exchange greetings. They are my friends and we talk often, but I am sure they wonder about me and the things that I go through every day. I listen as they begin to whisper among themselves as I pass. "There he goes again," I hear, "I hope it turns out well." But they say nothing directly to me about it. I'm sure they think it would hurt me to talk about it so early in the morning, and knowing myself as I do, I think they're probably right.