Marble Skin by Slavenka Drakulić
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is not a book, it's a stream of consciousness that envelops you, even after you've put it down it haunts you, and it should because it's a haunting, beautiful, terrible tale, told not so much in words but images that bleed together, there is no obvious structure, no square frame to keep the story in place, to keep you in place, in the story, there's just you and the pages and these two women, and they're not characters for you to observe, they're flesh and blood (under the marble skin) and you are one with both of them and they are one, and there's also the man somewhere in your peripheral, just a by-stander, this is not about the man although he plays an important part, he's just someone to see and touch and thus bring out the body, your body, so that you can understand it, and then he's gone, he's served his purpose, and all that's left is you, and the silence and the memories, and whatever comes next.
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