Симон

Vse, kto znakom s prozoĭ Narinė Abgari͡an, znai͡ut, chto ee knigi obladai͡ut udivitelʹnym svoĭstvom. Raz prochitav, mnogie iz nikh uzhe nevozmozhno zabytʹ. I khrani͡atsi͡a oni budto by ne v mozgu - no oshchushcheniem gde-to v oblasti serdt͡sa. Proza Abgari͡an kak ovevai͡ushchiĭ iznurennoe araviĭskoĭ zharoĭ telo veterok, ili kak vkus kholodnogo mat͡suna, ili kak solenyĭ zapakh tainstvennogo mori͡a, pleshchushchegosi͡a na dne gornogo ushchelʹi͡a… Dolgozhdannyĭ roman "Simon", v kotorom pisatelʹnit͡sa snova perenosit nas v rodnoĭ gorodok Berd, chtoby rasskazatʹ chetyre udivitelʹnye istorii li͡ubvi, ne iskli͡uchenie…

Everyone who is familiar with Narine Abgaryan's prose knows that her books have an amazing property. Once read, many of them are impossible to forget. And they are stored as if not in the brain — but by a sensation somewhere in the heart area. Abgaryan's prose is like a breeze blowing over a body exhausted by the Arabian heat, or like the taste of cold matsun, or like the salty smell of a mysterious sea lapping at the bottom of a mountain gorge... The long-awaited novel "Simon", in which the writer again takes us to her hometown of Byrd to tell four amazing love stories, is no exception…