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No un Es
Romāns “No un es” ir kompakts, spoži uzrakstīts vēstījums par to, ko patiesībā nozīmē mājas un ko – būt bez pajumtes. Grāmatas galvenā varone ir trīspadsmitgadīgā Lū Bertiņaka, kuras intelekta koeficients ir tik augsts, ka viņa mācās kopā ar divus gadus vecākiem jauniešiem. Savukārt viņas labākajam draugam un klasesbiedram Lūkasam jau ir 17 un patiesībā būtu jāmācās vēl divas klases augstāk. Brīvajā laikā meitene veic dažādus zinātniskus eksperimentus, prāto par to, kā iekārtota pasaule un cenšas nedomāt par skumjām, kas viņas ārēji ļoti jaukajā un mīlošajā ģimenē apmetušās uz pastāvīgu dzīvi. Kad Lū, kurai ļoti nepatīk publiski uzstāties, ir spiesta gatavot prezentāciju sabiedrības mācībā, viņa izvēlas to veidot par jaunu bezpajumtnieci No, ar kuru nejauši iepazinusies kādā Parīzes dzelzceļa stacijā. Abas pamazām iedraudzējas, un Lū pierunā vecākus uz laiku ņemt astoņpadsmitgadīgo No savā paspārnē. Lū par pārsteigumu, uz viņas un vecāku dzīvi šis lēmums atstāj daudz lielāku iespaidu nekā uz mājas jauno iemītnieci.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published August 22, 2007
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About the author
Delphine de Vigan
38 books2,797 followersDelphine de Vigan is an award-winning French novelist. She has published several novels for adults. Her breakthrough work was the book No et moi (No and Me) that was awarded the Prix des Libraires (The Booksellers' Prize) in France in 2008.
In 2011, she published a novel Rien ne s'oppose a la nuit (Nothing holds back the night) that deals with a family coping with their mother's bipolar disorder. In her native France, the novel brought her a set of awards, including the prix du roman Fnac (the prize given by the Fnac bookstores) and the prix Renaudot des lycéens.
In 2011, she published a novel Rien ne s'oppose a la nuit (Nothing holds back the night) that deals with a family coping with their mother's bipolar disorder. In her native France, the novel brought her a set of awards, including the prix du roman Fnac (the prize given by the Fnac bookstores) and the prix Renaudot des lycéens.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,856 reviews
March 6, 2017
This is a young adult novel, set in Paris and translated from the French. A friendship develops between a 13-year old special ed girl and a young woman (18 years old) who lives on the streets. The latter is Nolwenn, the “No” of the title.
We’re never given a diagnosis in the story but we realize the special ed girl is autistic, and seems to have Asperger’s syndrome. She’s brilliant but stands by herself under a tree at recess; stifles her laughter; whispers in class; is terrified at having to make a class presentation. When she has to speak, her mind becomes a jumble of thoughts and she freezes up. She’s seldom invited to parties but even so, she’ll pass. She’s invited to go skating but declines because she’ll tangle the shoe eyelets.
Psychologists have told her parents she is precocious and has a “disturbing maturity.” She reminds me of some other special ed characters in books such as the boy in Me and You or the older characters in The Solitude of Prime Numbers who very well know how to “act normal” but it’s just so exhausting! [Coincidentally both of these other books happen to be by Italian authors.]
The girl tries the best she can: she hangs out at the train station to study other people’s emotions. Some of her thoughts:
“Sometimes it seems as though something’s lacking inside me, like there’s a crossed wire, a part that’s not working, a manufacturing error. Not, as you might think, something extra, but something missing.”
“They shouldn’t make people believe that they can be equal, not here [in school] and not anywhere.”
“My mother’s right. Life’s unfair and that’s all there is to it.”
Her parents are supportive but they have their own problems that add to the girl’s burdens. A short time ago her mother lost her baby sister and now is so depressed she never leaves the house; she has no energy for even simple household tasks; she sits in the dark staring into space. Of her mother she says “I don’t want to talk to her because she doesn’t know who I am any more, because she always seems to be puzzling over what the link is between the two of us, how we’re related.” The girl hears her father sobbing in the bathroom at night.
The special ed girl meets the young street woman when she decides to do her school project on homeless people. We know the sad story of the young woman and we know she’s on drugs and where her spending money comes from. And we know that due to her “disturbing maturity,” the 13-year old knows what’s going on too – it’s just not explicitly stated since this is a young adult novel. The parents of the girl agree to take her into their home under “tough love” rules and she makes an impact on the whole family. The story is realistic, so we don’t expect a happy ending.
All in all, a pretty good read for both young and old adults. The author may be specializing in writing about personality disorders because her latest work, Nothing Holds Back the Night, is about a family coping with a woman’s bipolar disorder.
We’re never given a diagnosis in the story but we realize the special ed girl is autistic, and seems to have Asperger’s syndrome. She’s brilliant but stands by herself under a tree at recess; stifles her laughter; whispers in class; is terrified at having to make a class presentation. When she has to speak, her mind becomes a jumble of thoughts and she freezes up. She’s seldom invited to parties but even so, she’ll pass. She’s invited to go skating but declines because she’ll tangle the shoe eyelets.
Psychologists have told her parents she is precocious and has a “disturbing maturity.” She reminds me of some other special ed characters in books such as the boy in Me and You or the older characters in The Solitude of Prime Numbers who very well know how to “act normal” but it’s just so exhausting! [Coincidentally both of these other books happen to be by Italian authors.]
The girl tries the best she can: she hangs out at the train station to study other people’s emotions. Some of her thoughts:
“Sometimes it seems as though something’s lacking inside me, like there’s a crossed wire, a part that’s not working, a manufacturing error. Not, as you might think, something extra, but something missing.”
“They shouldn’t make people believe that they can be equal, not here [in school] and not anywhere.”
“My mother’s right. Life’s unfair and that’s all there is to it.”
Her parents are supportive but they have their own problems that add to the girl’s burdens. A short time ago her mother lost her baby sister and now is so depressed she never leaves the house; she has no energy for even simple household tasks; she sits in the dark staring into space. Of her mother she says “I don’t want to talk to her because she doesn’t know who I am any more, because she always seems to be puzzling over what the link is between the two of us, how we’re related.” The girl hears her father sobbing in the bathroom at night.
The special ed girl meets the young street woman when she decides to do her school project on homeless people. We know the sad story of the young woman and we know she’s on drugs and where her spending money comes from. And we know that due to her “disturbing maturity,” the 13-year old knows what’s going on too – it’s just not explicitly stated since this is a young adult novel. The parents of the girl agree to take her into their home under “tough love” rules and she makes an impact on the whole family. The story is realistic, so we don’t expect a happy ending.
All in all, a pretty good read for both young and old adults. The author may be specializing in writing about personality disorders because her latest work, Nothing Holds Back the Night, is about a family coping with a woman’s bipolar disorder.
October 29, 2012
This summer, I met a young girl from Croatia’s most war-affected city. She came here, on the other side of the country, to live in a trailer and work in a supermarket for very little money. It was just a lousy summer job, but to her, it was more than good enough. When at home, she lives with her father, barely scraping by, both of them unemployed throughout the year because there are no jobs where she comes from. She told me about growing up hungry and going to school with her stomach completely empty. She told me how her mother refused meals to leave more for her, because she was still growing and she needed energy for her schoolwork. She told me how her parents took turns eating because there wasn’t enough for both. And she said it all with a big smile on her face, the smile of a person who refuses to be defeated.
I kept a brave face, but then I drove home and I cried for hours. I hugged my sleeping child and I swore that she’ll never experience anything similar. (I bet the girl’s parents made the same promise at some point, though, all parents do – and it scares me to death). But when I started thinking about things that could have been done to feed this girl when she needed it the most, things that SHOULD have been done, I felt deeply ashamed, even though back then, I was no more than a teen myself.
There’s really no point to this story, except that I felt it needed to be told. No and Me isn’t one of those books that try to convince you you’re equipped to save the world – you really aren’t, and neither am I. We do the best we can, most of us, and we live knowing it’s not nearly enough. And it’s because of that knowledge that we turn our heads the other way and try to protect ourselves from things we cannot change.
This is exactly why I don’t like reading contemporary YA. Things like bullying, abuse, even smaller family issues, make me feel hurt and powerless, and it’s something I tend to avoid at all costs. But No and Me is not one of those books. There’s something so very gentle about it because it doesn’t try to shock or hurt, nor does it try to change the reader in any way. It just is – it is a story, simple and beautiful, easy to read and even easier to accept, even while it’s breaking your heart.
In No and Me, a thirteen-year-old child genius Lou Bertignac interviews an eighteen-year-old homeless girl for a school project and subsequently decides to save her. She brings her into her home to live with her damaged family and treats her like a sister she’d lost when she was just a child. Lou Bertignac is an extraordinary character: understanding how her mind works (she has an IQ of 160) and how it reflects on her emotions was a challenge and a true delight. And of course she and I have a huge thing in common:
People who think that grammar is just a collection of rules and restrictions are wrong. If you get to like it, grammar reveals the hidden meaning of history, hides disorder and abandonment, links things and brings opposites together. Grammar is a wonderful way of organizing the world how you’d like it to be.
*sigh* I wholeheartedly agree.
This is the longest non-review I’ve written in my life, so I need to offer you an alternative. My friend Catie over at The Readventurer reads all these books I’m too much of a coward to pick up, and then she writes amazing reviews that are equal parts rational and emotional. She is my favorite reviewer in the world (and I’m not just saying that), and she’s the one who convinced me to read this book, so please check out her review if you can.
I kept a brave face, but then I drove home and I cried for hours. I hugged my sleeping child and I swore that she’ll never experience anything similar. (I bet the girl’s parents made the same promise at some point, though, all parents do – and it scares me to death). But when I started thinking about things that could have been done to feed this girl when she needed it the most, things that SHOULD have been done, I felt deeply ashamed, even though back then, I was no more than a teen myself.
There’s really no point to this story, except that I felt it needed to be told. No and Me isn’t one of those books that try to convince you you’re equipped to save the world – you really aren’t, and neither am I. We do the best we can, most of us, and we live knowing it’s not nearly enough. And it’s because of that knowledge that we turn our heads the other way and try to protect ourselves from things we cannot change.
This is exactly why I don’t like reading contemporary YA. Things like bullying, abuse, even smaller family issues, make me feel hurt and powerless, and it’s something I tend to avoid at all costs. But No and Me is not one of those books. There’s something so very gentle about it because it doesn’t try to shock or hurt, nor does it try to change the reader in any way. It just is – it is a story, simple and beautiful, easy to read and even easier to accept, even while it’s breaking your heart.
In No and Me, a thirteen-year-old child genius Lou Bertignac interviews an eighteen-year-old homeless girl for a school project and subsequently decides to save her. She brings her into her home to live with her damaged family and treats her like a sister she’d lost when she was just a child. Lou Bertignac is an extraordinary character: understanding how her mind works (she has an IQ of 160) and how it reflects on her emotions was a challenge and a true delight. And of course she and I have a huge thing in common:
People who think that grammar is just a collection of rules and restrictions are wrong. If you get to like it, grammar reveals the hidden meaning of history, hides disorder and abandonment, links things and brings opposites together. Grammar is a wonderful way of organizing the world how you’d like it to be.
*sigh* I wholeheartedly agree.
This is the longest non-review I’ve written in my life, so I need to offer you an alternative. My friend Catie over at The Readventurer reads all these books I’m too much of a coward to pick up, and then she writes amazing reviews that are equal parts rational and emotional. She is my favorite reviewer in the world (and I’m not just saying that), and she’s the one who convinced me to read this book, so please check out her review if you can.
March 24, 2023
A unique 'young adult' novel set in modern Paris. Lou is a highly intelligent 13 year old girl who has had to skip 2 years at school, hence her 'peers' are 15 years old and above. From the outside she is the sole daughter of an average normal middle-class family; whilst in reality there is a gaping emotional hole due to an earlier family tragedy. This book is about Lou's relationship with an older homeless girl called 'No'. Like 'Room' part of the magic of this book is the first person narrative; in addition Lou does not always think in conventional ways, as she is one part genius, but essentially still a very young girl. A quirky and hypnotic gem of a book. 7 out of 12, Three Star read.
2011 read
2011 read
May 6, 2015
There are three people in this story. No, who is homeless, hopeless, untrusting and the natural ally of Luke, the rich and almost-bad boy. Two teenagers together. But he has a crush on Lou, who is years younger, too clever and naive only when it suits the story. And she is more the character used to reveal the story than a truly interesting heroine. The dark secret of the parents is sad, but banal. Their healing, the way they shake themselves off is what people do when they have guests, they make an effort. I found the taming of the street girl just a little simplistic and expected. Luke seemed to me to be the most interesting character but he was left undeveloped, the side kick. The writing was perhaps more YA, lacking the depth expected in adult literature.
The book didn't, to me, contain any relevations. It wasn't a moral lesson, it wasn't the sort of book to be a guide to teenagers about how not to make mistakes or to stand up to peer pressure, to be oneself. It wasn't, to me, any of those worthy things that other reviewers have seen in it.
What it was, was a really great story absolutely beautifully-written. Sometimes that's all you want from a book, to be a damn good read.
The book didn't, to me, contain any relevations. It wasn't a moral lesson, it wasn't the sort of book to be a guide to teenagers about how not to make mistakes or to stand up to peer pressure, to be oneself. It wasn't, to me, any of those worthy things that other reviewers have seen in it.
What it was, was a really great story absolutely beautifully-written. Sometimes that's all you want from a book, to be a damn good read.
March 12, 2024
«Nô e eu» é uma reflexão sobre a vida, a identidade e o nosso lugar no mundo; comovente e inspirador é a história de uma amizade improvável entre Lou, 13 anos, sobredotada, pertencente a uma classe social confortável não isenta de problemas familiares e Nô, uma sem-abrigo de 18 anos, filha de uma mãe que foi violada e engravidou aos 15 anos.
Convivendo eu diariamente com pessoas em situação de sem-abrigo, pergunto-me se oferecer uma sopa, um bolo, um iogurte, uma palavra amiga desempenho o meu papel de cidadã? Que mais posso fazer? A vida é injusta e não há mais acrescentar. O mundo caíu na desordem.
Lou pensa na igualdade, na fraternidade, em todas essas tretas que se aprendem na escola e que não existem na vida real. Para provar que as coisas podem ser diferentes, Lou convence os pais a receber Nô em casa.
«- Não sou da tua família Lou. É isso que tens de perceber, nunca farei parte da tua família.»
«Mas eu tinha medo. Medo de que Nô se tivesse ido embora. Medo de ficar outra vez sozinha, como dantes.»
Não podemos aspirar a salvar o mundo porque o mundo é muito mais forte do que nós. Mas quando a raposa pede ao Principezinho que a guarde no coração e ele não sabe o que isso significa, se calhar é só isto que conta, se calhar basta-nos encontrar alguém que possamos guardar no coração.
Emocionante, enternecedor, triste (em certo sentido) é um romance de formação que estava à minha espera num alfabarrista perto de mim. Por 2 Euros fiquei a pensar e meti a mão na consciência.
Convivendo eu diariamente com pessoas em situação de sem-abrigo, pergunto-me se oferecer uma sopa, um bolo, um iogurte, uma palavra amiga desempenho o meu papel de cidadã? Que mais posso fazer? A vida é injusta e não há mais acrescentar. O mundo caíu na desordem.
Lou pensa na igualdade, na fraternidade, em todas essas tretas que se aprendem na escola e que não existem na vida real. Para provar que as coisas podem ser diferentes, Lou convence os pais a receber Nô em casa.
«- Não sou da tua família Lou. É isso que tens de perceber, nunca farei parte da tua família.»
«Mas eu tinha medo. Medo de que Nô se tivesse ido embora. Medo de ficar outra vez sozinha, como dantes.»
Não podemos aspirar a salvar o mundo porque o mundo é muito mais forte do que nós. Mas quando a raposa pede ao Principezinho que a guarde no coração e ele não sabe o que isso significa, se calhar é só isto que conta, se calhar basta-nos encontrar alguém que possamos guardar no coração.
Emocionante, enternecedor, triste (em certo sentido) é um romance de formação que estava à minha espera num alfabarrista perto de mim. Por 2 Euros fiquei a pensar e meti a mão na consciência.
August 22, 2025
خوندنِ این داستان باعث شد به خودم یادآوری کنم که قرار نیست توی کمک کردن به دیگران غرق شم و خودمو این وسط فراموش کنم. ضمن اینکه ممکنه اون فرد اصلاً کمکِ من رو نخواد و اون کاری که دارم براش انجام میدم نه تنها لطف بهش محسوب نمیشه، بلکه براش اذیت کننده هم هست.
داستان از این قراره که "لو" میخواد راجع به بی خانمان ها توی مدرسه کنفرانس بده. در همین حین با دختری به اسم "نو" آشنا میشه و ازش میخواد که برای پروژه ی مدرسه باهاش ملاقات و مصاحبه کنه.
داستان از این قراره که "لو" میخواد راجع به بی خانمان ها توی مدرسه کنفرانس بده. در همین حین با دختری به اسم "نو" آشنا میشه و ازش میخواد که برای پروژه ی مدرسه باهاش ملاقات و مصاحبه کنه.
February 26, 2011
Ahhhh, this book is just CHARMING.
I had no idea what to expect or if No and Me would be my kind of read ~ I really didn't expect to LOVE it as much as I did. It's a really different read to most contemp YA's I've read lately ~ which could be because this is imported and translated from French.
I think this is the kind of book that some people will ABSOLUTELY ADORE and soak up and fall in love with. It may also leave other people scratching their heads and 'just not getting it'
I am in the FALLEN IN LOVE category :)
It's very much a book for people who appreciate literary fiction, lyrical writing and just poetic and gorgeously funny sentiments. This is due to the CHARMING and unique narrator, Lou ~ who has leapt on to a list of protags I ADORE.
I'm not going to go much into the plot (you should discover it for yourself) but it centres around Lou (who's 13 ~ but skipped two years of school and is with the 15 year olds) and No ~ who's 18 and homeless. I wondered if it would be too MG for me (with a younger narrator) ~ but it's the opposite ~ it could easily slip into adult sales with it's intelligent and gorgeous protag and it's outstanding prose. It really is a cut above in terms of YA literary fiction ~ I was continually pausing to re-read sentences and paragraphs and just to make sure I was not missing out on even one perfectly placed word.
Alongside Lou and No, there's Lou going to school (and the usual coming of age school stuff ~ parties and a crush ~ there's always a guy, hey ~ and assignments) and also Lou's parents ~ who I loved as characters. Lou's mum was beautifully handled ~ there's some painful family history and some mental illness and it was achingly told.
The plot unravels at a steady pace, gradually revealing secrets and also moving forward to a conclusion that makes you feel like you just don't know what is going to happen. (I really didn't ~ it could have gone so many different ways)
But it's not the plot that had me enthralled (although I was invested in the story). It was the writing. I felt like I could keep pausing to jot down half the book into my journal of favourite quotes. I haven't crushed this hard on writing for a LONG time ~ it was perhaps reminiscent of Maggie O'Farrell and Sonya Hartnett for me ~ authors who make me gasp and think and just revel in words and ideas and sentiments.
Overall ~ it's a hopeful book, it'll break your heart a little, it'll make you think. It's nostalgic of the teenage years and the hope and optimism that surrounds them. It celebrates wanting to change the world, believing you can while at the same time feeling completely swamped and disenchanted and wildly fluctuating between everything. It's about family and friendship and growing up. It's just lovelylovelylovely. Le sigh...
I had no idea what to expect or if No and Me would be my kind of read ~ I really didn't expect to LOVE it as much as I did. It's a really different read to most contemp YA's I've read lately ~ which could be because this is imported and translated from French.
I think this is the kind of book that some people will ABSOLUTELY ADORE and soak up and fall in love with. It may also leave other people scratching their heads and 'just not getting it'
I am in the FALLEN IN LOVE category :)
It's very much a book for people who appreciate literary fiction, lyrical writing and just poetic and gorgeously funny sentiments. This is due to the CHARMING and unique narrator, Lou ~ who has leapt on to a list of protags I ADORE.
I'm not going to go much into the plot (you should discover it for yourself) but it centres around Lou (who's 13 ~ but skipped two years of school and is with the 15 year olds) and No ~ who's 18 and homeless. I wondered if it would be too MG for me (with a younger narrator) ~ but it's the opposite ~ it could easily slip into adult sales with it's intelligent and gorgeous protag and it's outstanding prose. It really is a cut above in terms of YA literary fiction ~ I was continually pausing to re-read sentences and paragraphs and just to make sure I was not missing out on even one perfectly placed word.
Alongside Lou and No, there's Lou going to school (and the usual coming of age school stuff ~ parties and a crush ~ there's always a guy, hey ~ and assignments) and also Lou's parents ~ who I loved as characters. Lou's mum was beautifully handled ~ there's some painful family history and some mental illness and it was achingly told.
The plot unravels at a steady pace, gradually revealing secrets and also moving forward to a conclusion that makes you feel like you just don't know what is going to happen. (I really didn't ~ it could have gone so many different ways)
But it's not the plot that had me enthralled (although I was invested in the story). It was the writing. I felt like I could keep pausing to jot down half the book into my journal of favourite quotes. I haven't crushed this hard on writing for a LONG time ~ it was perhaps reminiscent of Maggie O'Farrell and Sonya Hartnett for me ~ authors who make me gasp and think and just revel in words and ideas and sentiments.
Overall ~ it's a hopeful book, it'll break your heart a little, it'll make you think. It's nostalgic of the teenage years and the hope and optimism that surrounds them. It celebrates wanting to change the world, believing you can while at the same time feeling completely swamped and disenchanted and wildly fluctuating between everything. It's about family and friendship and growing up. It's just lovelylovelylovely. Le sigh...
March 26, 2013
Rating: 4.5 Stars
No and Me is that book that you wish you had a time machine for; the one you want to go back in time and thrust to your young teenage self, begging them to read it because perhaps, if they do, they'll understand life a little better and won't make all the mistakes they will. It's the type of novel that whisks you away into a completely different world, but its prose isn't flowery like that of Laini Taylor; instead, it's a more subtle type of beauty where each and every phrase simply makes you put down the book and think. I knew, even before I picked up No and Me that it would be amazing - it did, after all, come recommended to me by three of my most trusted bloggers - but I didn't quite expect the level of wonder, of emotion, and of nostalgia that this book would make me experience, all over again and somehow new at the same time. Truly, No and Me is a literary gem like no other and really, I cannot recommend it enough.
Delphine de Vigan's debut into YA Literature seems to be a simplistic story, one of Lou, a thirteen-year-old precocious girl living in France who interviews No, a homeless eighteen-year-old woman, for a school project. Only, Lou can't stop thinking about No or the homeless life she leads and when she invites No to live with her, to become part of her family, she doesn't count on No's own past coming back to haunt, not only No, but Lou as well. In my eyes, the depth and beauty of this novel isn't in its plot or subject matter, but in its writing. Lou, as a highly intelligent teenager, sees life in a different light and it is this - her flashes of brilliance, her incredible insight - that made this novel so special for me.
No and Me isn't an easy novel to read. I'm sure that we've all had an experience or two with homeless people, perhaps less if you haven't traveled outside of America. Ever since I was a child, however, I've been painstakingly aware of the plight of the homeless and beggars. Born in India, I witnessed hoards of homeless people daily, on every street, begging for money or selling cheap plastic toys to tourists in an effort to make a few cents. If it wasn't on the streets, it was in the railway stations as children sold tea instead of attending school, in the airports where they would greet you stepping off the plane - everywhere. I've visited India every summer since I moved to America when I was a baby, but it never fails to shock me, every time, the number of homeless who are still there, who will probably always be there, and most of all, the plight of those like us who are, frankly, unable to do anything.
It is this lesson that Lou learns in this novel, this earth-shattering wake-up-call, but more than even her friendship with No, her dependency on her, her refusal to believe that No and herself really did not belong in the same world, let alone the same life and the same home, was Lou's life at home. Although this novel focuses primarily on No and her impact on Lou's life, it also focuses on Lou's parents; her mother who has been numb with grief ever since her second child died in her arms, her father who cares for No with an optimism that hides his inner grief, and Lou's own social awkwardness when making friends and approaching seventeen-year-old Lucas who is everything she sees herself as not being. For me, it was the realistic portrayal of Lou's home life, of her struggles with her parents and her inner insecurities about growing up with a mother who never really cared that touched me more than anything else.
Perhaps best of all, though, is how painstakingly life-like this novel is. Its ending never wraps up any loose threads, never tries to explain No and her behavior or even the lives of those living on the streets, never tries to sugar-coat the fact that Lou's mother will never be the same despite the tragic events that happened years ago...it's almost an abrupt ending, one that leaves you smiling, with the twinkle dimmed from your eyes. Yet, it's a beautiful story, one that is written unflinchingly, told realistically, and leaves you wanting to simply hold the novel to your chest as you're forced to - yet again - contemplate the simple truths of existence that one person is too small to change. Nevertheless, this manages to be a novel of immense hope and although I wished for a slightly longer, dragged out, or even more conclusive end, I wouldn't have it any other way - this book is perfect, just the way it is.
I'd urge you all to check out the reviews of Catie from The Readventurer and Maja from The Nocturnal Library who are the reason why I picked up this gem.
You can read this review and more on my blog, Ivy Book Bindings.
No and Me is that book that you wish you had a time machine for; the one you want to go back in time and thrust to your young teenage self, begging them to read it because perhaps, if they do, they'll understand life a little better and won't make all the mistakes they will. It's the type of novel that whisks you away into a completely different world, but its prose isn't flowery like that of Laini Taylor; instead, it's a more subtle type of beauty where each and every phrase simply makes you put down the book and think. I knew, even before I picked up No and Me that it would be amazing - it did, after all, come recommended to me by three of my most trusted bloggers - but I didn't quite expect the level of wonder, of emotion, and of nostalgia that this book would make me experience, all over again and somehow new at the same time. Truly, No and Me is a literary gem like no other and really, I cannot recommend it enough.
Delphine de Vigan's debut into YA Literature seems to be a simplistic story, one of Lou, a thirteen-year-old precocious girl living in France who interviews No, a homeless eighteen-year-old woman, for a school project. Only, Lou can't stop thinking about No or the homeless life she leads and when she invites No to live with her, to become part of her family, she doesn't count on No's own past coming back to haunt, not only No, but Lou as well. In my eyes, the depth and beauty of this novel isn't in its plot or subject matter, but in its writing. Lou, as a highly intelligent teenager, sees life in a different light and it is this - her flashes of brilliance, her incredible insight - that made this novel so special for me.
No and Me isn't an easy novel to read. I'm sure that we've all had an experience or two with homeless people, perhaps less if you haven't traveled outside of America. Ever since I was a child, however, I've been painstakingly aware of the plight of the homeless and beggars. Born in India, I witnessed hoards of homeless people daily, on every street, begging for money or selling cheap plastic toys to tourists in an effort to make a few cents. If it wasn't on the streets, it was in the railway stations as children sold tea instead of attending school, in the airports where they would greet you stepping off the plane - everywhere. I've visited India every summer since I moved to America when I was a baby, but it never fails to shock me, every time, the number of homeless who are still there, who will probably always be there, and most of all, the plight of those like us who are, frankly, unable to do anything.
It is this lesson that Lou learns in this novel, this earth-shattering wake-up-call, but more than even her friendship with No, her dependency on her, her refusal to believe that No and herself really did not belong in the same world, let alone the same life and the same home, was Lou's life at home. Although this novel focuses primarily on No and her impact on Lou's life, it also focuses on Lou's parents; her mother who has been numb with grief ever since her second child died in her arms, her father who cares for No with an optimism that hides his inner grief, and Lou's own social awkwardness when making friends and approaching seventeen-year-old Lucas who is everything she sees herself as not being. For me, it was the realistic portrayal of Lou's home life, of her struggles with her parents and her inner insecurities about growing up with a mother who never really cared that touched me more than anything else.
Perhaps best of all, though, is how painstakingly life-like this novel is. Its ending never wraps up any loose threads, never tries to explain No and her behavior or even the lives of those living on the streets, never tries to sugar-coat the fact that Lou's mother will never be the same despite the tragic events that happened years ago...it's almost an abrupt ending, one that leaves you smiling, with the twinkle dimmed from your eyes. Yet, it's a beautiful story, one that is written unflinchingly, told realistically, and leaves you wanting to simply hold the novel to your chest as you're forced to - yet again - contemplate the simple truths of existence that one person is too small to change. Nevertheless, this manages to be a novel of immense hope and although I wished for a slightly longer, dragged out, or even more conclusive end, I wouldn't have it any other way - this book is perfect, just the way it is.
I'd urge you all to check out the reviews of Catie from The Readventurer and Maja from The Nocturnal Library who are the reason why I picked up this gem.
You can read this review and more on my blog, Ivy Book Bindings.
November 1, 2011
At just 246 pages, No and Me is a slight book, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it volume I found tucked in the dusty, unfrequented back shelves, behind a stand of current best-sellers in sparkly foil jackets. I remembered seeing a friend’s review praising the book for it’s charm (*Hi, Nomes!*), and if you’re familiar with my own reviews you’ll know I can’t resist a quiet, moving story. So I hooked it out with a finger – it had obviously been jammed there on the bottom shelf for a while – and brought it home to be read. And now that’s it’s read, rather loved.
No and Me is a subtle and tender story about home and homelessness, told through the gentle, unique perspective of Lou, an ‘intellectually precocious’ thirteen year old girl. Lou’s family is quietly falling apart in the wake of a tragedy: they are a seemingly functional unit, yet they are separated and circling each other like satellites, held in orbit by the gravity of their unvoiced pain. Advanced through the school system by two years, Lou is struggling to find her footing socially, to align the intellectual and emotional worlds she inhabits.
Then Lou meets and befriends No, a girl living on the streets of Paris, with a fractured past and a bleak future. As No enters the lives of Lou and her family, she irrevocably changes them, and the way Lou sees the world.
I’m not sure how much of the rather distinct tone of this book is attributable to Delphine de Vigan’s particular writing style, and how much is owed to the translation from French to English. Regardless, there is a delicate beauty to this story and the unembellished manner in which it is told. There is something in Lou’s narration, the way she constantly filters, processes and analyses the world, the particular angle of her perspective and quirks of her personality, that speaks eloquently of the fragility of life and relationships. De Vigan’s writing is both clear and expressive, with some exceptionally lovely, quotable lines.
There is a touching naivety and simplicity to the way Lou views No, and her sense of responsibility to affect change where she can. At one point, Lou says that it’s the “buts” that are the problem. If we saw past them, chose to act in spite of our reservations, maybe we could accomplish more. In some ways, this is more than a story about just No’s life and it’s juxtaposition with Lou’s, but also that of Lou’s coming of age, in the sense that she begins to understand the difference between expectations and reality, what it really means to trust, to be let down, to understand that even our best efforts and intentions are not always enough for someone who is broken. What it is to feel impotent against a harsh world.
The characters are lovingly crafted, with distinct personalities and dimension despite the sparseness of description and page time for some of them. From Lou’s shattered mother, her quietly stoic father, No’s thorny exterior and bruised heart, Lucas’ fearless nonchalance (Lucas <3), each of them feel real and nuanced, and have strong presence throughout the story as it unfolds.
The quietness of No and Me may not be to the particular taste of some readers – it’s a story that builds gradually and is weighted by Lou’s introspection. It’s a book to be savoured and internalized. It’s restrained and understated. But personally, I found it exceptionally lovely and thought-provoking, with a lot of honesty, emotion and depth within its comparatively few pages.
September 11, 2018
Primo libro letto di questa autrice francese , è credo proprio che recupererò altri . Sono rimasta ipnotizzata dalla sua scrittura scorrevole ma emotivamente coinvolgente. Lou ,tredicenne solitaria , con un Qi superiore alla media, per un compito in classe decide di parlare della solitudine, quella che accompagna i i vagabondi per strada. Conosce No una ragazza sola al mondo , che decide di aiutare , regalandola una vita “normale “.
Le due ragazzine si aggrappano tra loro, come naufraghi in una tempesta, mordendosi e graffiandosi a vicenda, ma soprattutto avvicinandosi, accettandosi e riempiendo l'una il vuoto dell'altra. “Gli effetti secondari dei sogni" è una storia di violenza, solitudine d’amore e abbandoni .
E' la dimostrazione tangibile che non si può salvare a tutti i costi chi non vuole essere salvato. E che per amare qualcuno fino in fondo bisogna accettarlo per come si è, con luci e ombre, con direzioni che lo posso portare lontano da noi, con scelte che non comprendiamo fino in fondo.
Le due ragazzine si aggrappano tra loro, come naufraghi in una tempesta, mordendosi e graffiandosi a vicenda, ma soprattutto avvicinandosi, accettandosi e riempiendo l'una il vuoto dell'altra. “Gli effetti secondari dei sogni" è una storia di violenza, solitudine d’amore e abbandoni .
E' la dimostrazione tangibile che non si può salvare a tutti i costi chi non vuole essere salvato. E che per amare qualcuno fino in fondo bisogna accettarlo per come si è, con luci e ombre, con direzioni che lo posso portare lontano da noi, con scelte che non comprendiamo fino in fondo.
September 6, 2017
Do you ever read something you love so much that it immediately makes you want to purchase the author's entire back catalogue? That happened to me with Delphine de Vigan's Based on a True Story. I so adored it that I was inspired to go on a second-hand book-buying spree, ordering copies of all de Vigan's previous novels (well, all that have been translated into English). I decided to read them in chronological order, meaning No and Me came first despite appealing to me the least.
I saw this in a lot of bookshops back when it came out in 2010, but it never really caught my interest. I assumed it would be one of those sickly-sweet happily-ever-after stories designed to make the reader feel smug about their moral stance on an issue without actually having to do anything about said issue. Furthermore, most reviews treat it as YA – it was published as adult fiction here in the UK (where it was a Richard & Judy book club choice), but it's about teenagers, and I can see how it might be better suited to a younger reader.
The narrator is Lou, a precociously intelligent 13-year-old. She's skipped a couple of grades at school, is terribly shy, and has no friends – if you don't count an unlikely (and, I must say, rather unbelievable) alliance with Lucas, the bad boy heartthrob of her class. At home, her mother, unable to recover from a family tragedy some years earlier, is severely depressed. At the start of the story, Lou is put on the spot by a teacher about an upcoming presentation, and tells him she's met and will be interviewing a homeless girl. That's the catalyst for Lou to befriend an 18-year-old runaway named No (not, as I first assumed, because she has 'no name' – it's an abbreviation of Nolwenn). Lonely Lou gets very attached to her very quickly, leading to great upheaval and more than a little drama.
There are some glossed-over bits and some implausibilities. Lucas's interest in Lou is far-fetched, his parents' near-constant absence is very convenient, and Lou's chronic shyness in other situations makes the ease with which she approaches No seem unlikely. But de Vigan writes around these issues with a tricksy elegance, and Lou's voice is perfectly pitched: startlingly clever in the way only a precocious kid can be; sometimes funny; often more revealing about the narrator herself than the story she's telling. The plot tackles the moral complexities of Lou's altruism, commending her idealism in the face of others' indifference, while refusing to shy away from the fact that she may, in the end, do more harm than good.
I wish I hadn't read the last page, which I hated – I was leaning towards 4 stars until that. Otherwise, this is a likeable, thoughtful story with a charming narrator and a sobering streak of realism.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
I saw this in a lot of bookshops back when it came out in 2010, but it never really caught my interest. I assumed it would be one of those sickly-sweet happily-ever-after stories designed to make the reader feel smug about their moral stance on an issue without actually having to do anything about said issue. Furthermore, most reviews treat it as YA – it was published as adult fiction here in the UK (where it was a Richard & Judy book club choice), but it's about teenagers, and I can see how it might be better suited to a younger reader.
The narrator is Lou, a precociously intelligent 13-year-old. She's skipped a couple of grades at school, is terribly shy, and has no friends – if you don't count an unlikely (and, I must say, rather unbelievable) alliance with Lucas, the bad boy heartthrob of her class. At home, her mother, unable to recover from a family tragedy some years earlier, is severely depressed. At the start of the story, Lou is put on the spot by a teacher about an upcoming presentation, and tells him she's met and will be interviewing a homeless girl. That's the catalyst for Lou to befriend an 18-year-old runaway named No (not, as I first assumed, because she has 'no name' – it's an abbreviation of Nolwenn). Lonely Lou gets very attached to her very quickly, leading to great upheaval and more than a little drama.
There are some glossed-over bits and some implausibilities. Lucas's interest in Lou is far-fetched, his parents' near-constant absence is very convenient, and Lou's chronic shyness in other situations makes the ease with which she approaches No seem unlikely. But de Vigan writes around these issues with a tricksy elegance, and Lou's voice is perfectly pitched: startlingly clever in the way only a precocious kid can be; sometimes funny; often more revealing about the narrator herself than the story she's telling. The plot tackles the moral complexities of Lou's altruism, commending her idealism in the face of others' indifference, while refusing to shy away from the fact that she may, in the end, do more harm than good.
I wish I hadn't read the last page, which I hated – I was leaning towards 4 stars until that. Otherwise, this is a likeable, thoughtful story with a charming narrator and a sobering streak of realism.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
April 25, 2021
Šodien mums visvairāk stāsta
Lietus lāses pieskāriens
Un man pietrūkst viena glāsta
Vai tev nepietrūkst neviens
Lietus lāses pieskāriens
Un man pietrūkst viena glāsta
Vai tev nepietrūkst neviens
December 5, 2021
«Somos capaces de dejar morir a gente en la calle».
Muy duro y triste.
Muy duro y triste.
Read
August 19, 2024O facto de exprimir a ausência de quantidade por um número não é, em si mesmo, uma evidência. Li-o na minha enciclopédia das ciências. A ausência de um objecto ou de um sujeito exprime-se melhor pela frase «não existe» (ou «já não existe»). Os números continuam a ser uma abstracção. E o zero não exprime a ausência nem a tristeza.
Conseguir que uma narradora adolescente seja coerente é um feito admirável e Delphine de Vigan foi inteligente no caminho que traçou para o conseguir. Lou é uma jovem rapariga, inteligente, sensivel, precoce (vários são os diagnósticos possíveis, mas o importante aqui é perceber que o nível de maturidade emocional da protagonista é elevado para a sua idade — 13 anos).
Filha única de uma mãe a lidar com uma depressão após a morte da segunda filha e de um pai que se desdobra em múltiplos papéis — cuidador, amante, educador — Lou já tem a sua dose de problemas quando, em virtude de um trabalho escolar se lembra de explorar o mundo dos sem-abrigo. A sua intermediária, Nô, cinco anos mais velha do que ela, vive nas ruas, sem família e sem sustento e, a dada altura, concorda com uma série de entrevistas de onde nasce uma amizade sui generis. E se Nô e Eu é um livro sobre essa amizade, também o é sobre solidão...
O raio de 13,7 mil milhões de anos-luz é, pois, o do Universo visível. Para lá desta distância, não conseguimos ver nada, não sabemos se o Universo se estende ou não além dela. Nem sequer sabemos se essa questão faz sentido. É por isso que as pessoas ficam em casa, nos seus pequenos apartamentos, com os seus pequenos móveis, as suas pequenas tigelas, os seus pequenos cortinados, por causa da vertigem. Porque se levantamos o nariz a questão põe-se inevitavelmente, bem como outra questão ainda, a de saber que somos, nós, tão infinitamente pequenos, no meio de tudo isto.
...sobre voluntariedade...
A partir de quando começa a ser demasiado tarde? Desde quando é demasiado tarde? Desde o primeiro dia em que a vi, há seis meses, dois anos, cinco anos? Será que podemos sair de uma situação destas? Como é possível estarmos na rua, aos 18 anos, sem nada, sem ninguém? Seremos coisas assim tão insignificantes, tão infinitamente pequenas, que o mundo possa continuar a girar, infinitamente grande e sem se importar minimamente se temos ou não um sítio para dormir?
... sobre dependência...
Quando era pequena, ficava a ver a minha mãe maquilhar-se à frente do espelho, seguia-lhe os gestos um a um, o lápis preto, o rímel, o batom nos lábios, aspirava-lhe o perfume, não sabia que era uma coisa tão efémera, não sabia que as coisas podem desaparecer de um momento para o outro, sem qualquer razão, para nunca mais voltarem.
...e sobre a fragilidade do ser humano:
Vejo muitas vezes o que se passa na cabeça das pessoas, é como uma espécie de caça ao tesouro, um fio negro que basta deixarmos deslizar entre os dedos, na sua fragilidade, um fio que conduz à verdade do Mundo, à verdade que jamais será revelada. Um dia o meu pai disse-me que era uma coisa que lhe metia medo, que não queria brincar com isso, que era preciso saber baixar os olhos para preservar o nosso olhar de criança. Mas eu não consigo fechar os meus, estão sempre escancarados e às vezes chego a tapá-los com as mãos para não ver.
Da mesma forma, é um romance que se ancora numa protagonista jovem para melhor poder traduzir os contrastes entre as expectativas e a realidade; o possível e o impossível...
Não devíamos fazer com que as pessoas acreditassem que pode haver igualdade entre elas, nem aqui nem noutro lado qualquer. A minha mãe tem razão. A vida é injusta e não há mais nada a acrescentar. A minha mãe sabe algo que não devíamos saber. É por isso que está incapacitada de trabalhar, é o que dizem os papéis da segurança social, sabe qualquer coisa que a impede de viver, qualquer coisa que só deveríamos saber quando já somos muito velhos. Aprendemos a descobrir as incógnitas nas equações, a traçar linhas rectas equidistantes, a demonstrar teoremas, mas na vida real não há nada a enunciar, nada a calcular, nada a adivinhar. É como a morte dos bebés. É uma grande tristeza e ponto final. Uma grande tristeza que não se dissolve na água, nem no ar, um tipo de componente físico que resiste a tudo.
...e nos mostrar como o nosso olhar, outrora tão próximo do da jovem Lou (capaz de filtrar e processar o mundo sem mácula), rapidamente se transforma no olhar desapaixonado de uma jovem a quem o mundo voltou costas:
Aquela era a prova evidente, se preciso fosse, de que alguma coisa não batia certo. Bastava olhar à nossa volta. Bastava ver o olhar das pessoas, contar as que falam sozinhas ou que começam a disparatar, bastava apanhar o metro. Pensei nos efeitos secundários da vida, naqueles que ninguém refere, que nunca são acompanhados por instruções para utilização. Pensei que a violência reside também aí, pensei que a violência está por todo o lado.
Da introspecção e altruísmo da juventude ao desencanto dos precocemente sofridos, Vigan obriga a jovem Lou a um percurso difícil, a uma travessia hiperbólica da realidade durante a qual o processo de amadurecimento se depurará. O desencanto, o desgosto e a couraça que reveste a humanidade serão a descoberta maior que a jornada de Lou tem para oferecer:
Antes de conhecer Nô, achava que a violência residia nos gritos, nas pancadas, na guerra e no sangue. Agora sei que a violência mora também no silêncio, que é por vezes invisível a olho nu. A violência é esse tempo que cobre as feridas, o irredutível encadear dos dias, a impossibilidade de voltar atrás. A violência está naquilo que nos escapa, não tem voz, não é visível, a violência é tudo aquilo que não tem explicação, tudo aquilo que será para todo o sempre opaco.
Como obra contemporânea na tradição do bildungsroman, Nô e Eu cai na categoria de YA, o que lhe retira algum prestígio já que atenua o reconhecimento do trabalho de caracterização psicológica que subjaz aos arranjos convencionais e mais tipicamente adolescentes que compõem a narrativa. Mesmo assim, é um trabalho de uma beleza e delicadeza com as quais não contava, e uma história especial que leva os leitores a refletir sobre questões maiores.
Nos livros há capítulos para separar os acontecimentos, para mostrar que o tempo passa ou que a situação evolui, e mesmo, por vezes, algumas partes com títulos carregados de promessas, O encontro, A esperança. A queda, como se de outros tantos quadros se tratasse. Mas na vida não há nada, não há títulos, nem cartazes, nem painéis, nada que nos avise atenção: perigo, derrocadas frequentes ou desilusão iminente. Na vida estamos sozinhos com o trajo que nela usamos, e azar o nosso se esse trajo estiver cheio de buracos.
Conseguir que uma narradora adolescente seja coerente é um feito admirável e Delphine de Vigan foi inteligente no caminho que traçou para o conseguir. Lou é uma jovem rapariga, inteligente, sensivel, precoce (vários são os diagnósticos possíveis, mas o importante aqui é perceber que o nível de maturidade emocional da protagonista é elevado para a sua idade — 13 anos).
Filha única de uma mãe a lidar com uma depressão após a morte da segunda filha e de um pai que se desdobra em múltiplos papéis — cuidador, amante, educador — Lou já tem a sua dose de problemas quando, em virtude de um trabalho escolar se lembra de explorar o mundo dos sem-abrigo. A sua intermediária, Nô, cinco anos mais velha do que ela, vive nas ruas, sem família e sem sustento e, a dada altura, concorda com uma série de entrevistas de onde nasce uma amizade sui generis. E se Nô e Eu é um livro sobre essa amizade, também o é sobre solidão...
O raio de 13,7 mil milhões de anos-luz é, pois, o do Universo visível. Para lá desta distância, não conseguimos ver nada, não sabemos se o Universo se estende ou não além dela. Nem sequer sabemos se essa questão faz sentido. É por isso que as pessoas ficam em casa, nos seus pequenos apartamentos, com os seus pequenos móveis, as suas pequenas tigelas, os seus pequenos cortinados, por causa da vertigem. Porque se levantamos o nariz a questão põe-se inevitavelmente, bem como outra questão ainda, a de saber que somos, nós, tão infinitamente pequenos, no meio de tudo isto.
...sobre voluntariedade...
A partir de quando começa a ser demasiado tarde? Desde quando é demasiado tarde? Desde o primeiro dia em que a vi, há seis meses, dois anos, cinco anos? Será que podemos sair de uma situação destas? Como é possível estarmos na rua, aos 18 anos, sem nada, sem ninguém? Seremos coisas assim tão insignificantes, tão infinitamente pequenas, que o mundo possa continuar a girar, infinitamente grande e sem se importar minimamente se temos ou não um sítio para dormir?
... sobre dependência...
Quando era pequena, ficava a ver a minha mãe maquilhar-se à frente do espelho, seguia-lhe os gestos um a um, o lápis preto, o rímel, o batom nos lábios, aspirava-lhe o perfume, não sabia que era uma coisa tão efémera, não sabia que as coisas podem desaparecer de um momento para o outro, sem qualquer razão, para nunca mais voltarem.
...e sobre a fragilidade do ser humano:
Vejo muitas vezes o que se passa na cabeça das pessoas, é como uma espécie de caça ao tesouro, um fio negro que basta deixarmos deslizar entre os dedos, na sua fragilidade, um fio que conduz à verdade do Mundo, à verdade que jamais será revelada. Um dia o meu pai disse-me que era uma coisa que lhe metia medo, que não queria brincar com isso, que era preciso saber baixar os olhos para preservar o nosso olhar de criança. Mas eu não consigo fechar os meus, estão sempre escancarados e às vezes chego a tapá-los com as mãos para não ver.
Da mesma forma, é um romance que se ancora numa protagonista jovem para melhor poder traduzir os contrastes entre as expectativas e a realidade; o possível e o impossível...
Não devíamos fazer com que as pessoas acreditassem que pode haver igualdade entre elas, nem aqui nem noutro lado qualquer. A minha mãe tem razão. A vida é injusta e não há mais nada a acrescentar. A minha mãe sabe algo que não devíamos saber. É por isso que está incapacitada de trabalhar, é o que dizem os papéis da segurança social, sabe qualquer coisa que a impede de viver, qualquer coisa que só deveríamos saber quando já somos muito velhos. Aprendemos a descobrir as incógnitas nas equações, a traçar linhas rectas equidistantes, a demonstrar teoremas, mas na vida real não há nada a enunciar, nada a calcular, nada a adivinhar. É como a morte dos bebés. É uma grande tristeza e ponto final. Uma grande tristeza que não se dissolve na água, nem no ar, um tipo de componente físico que resiste a tudo.
...e nos mostrar como o nosso olhar, outrora tão próximo do da jovem Lou (capaz de filtrar e processar o mundo sem mácula), rapidamente se transforma no olhar desapaixonado de uma jovem a quem o mundo voltou costas:
Aquela era a prova evidente, se preciso fosse, de que alguma coisa não batia certo. Bastava olhar à nossa volta. Bastava ver o olhar das pessoas, contar as que falam sozinhas ou que começam a disparatar, bastava apanhar o metro. Pensei nos efeitos secundários da vida, naqueles que ninguém refere, que nunca são acompanhados por instruções para utilização. Pensei que a violência reside também aí, pensei que a violência está por todo o lado.
Da introspecção e altruísmo da juventude ao desencanto dos precocemente sofridos, Vigan obriga a jovem Lou a um percurso difícil, a uma travessia hiperbólica da realidade durante a qual o processo de amadurecimento se depurará. O desencanto, o desgosto e a couraça que reveste a humanidade serão a descoberta maior que a jornada de Lou tem para oferecer:
Antes de conhecer Nô, achava que a violência residia nos gritos, nas pancadas, na guerra e no sangue. Agora sei que a violência mora também no silêncio, que é por vezes invisível a olho nu. A violência é esse tempo que cobre as feridas, o irredutível encadear dos dias, a impossibilidade de voltar atrás. A violência está naquilo que nos escapa, não tem voz, não é visível, a violência é tudo aquilo que não tem explicação, tudo aquilo que será para todo o sempre opaco.
Como obra contemporânea na tradição do bildungsroman, Nô e Eu cai na categoria de YA, o que lhe retira algum prestígio já que atenua o reconhecimento do trabalho de caracterização psicológica que subjaz aos arranjos convencionais e mais tipicamente adolescentes que compõem a narrativa. Mesmo assim, é um trabalho de uma beleza e delicadeza com as quais não contava, e uma história especial que leva os leitores a refletir sobre questões maiores.
Nos livros há capítulos para separar os acontecimentos, para mostrar que o tempo passa ou que a situação evolui, e mesmo, por vezes, algumas partes com títulos carregados de promessas, O encontro, A esperança. A queda, como se de outros tantos quadros se tratasse. Mas na vida não há nada, não há títulos, nem cartazes, nem painéis, nada que nos avise atenção: perigo, derrocadas frequentes ou desilusão iminente. Na vida estamos sozinhos com o trajo que nela usamos, e azar o nosso se esse trajo estiver cheio de buracos.
May 7, 2021
Lasīju un man gribējās izsaukties: "Viņi ir tikai bērni! Bērni, kas mēģina saglābt to, ko atkal (tāpat kā "Lojalitātēs") nav izdarījuši pieaugušie!" Arī No ir salauzts bērns.
"Tad es nodomāju, ka tāds nu tās lietas ir. Lietas, pret kurām esam bezspēcīgi. Mēs spējam uzsliet debesskrāpi sešsimt metru augstumā, uzbūvēt viesnīcas zem jūras un uzbērt salas palmu veidolā, mēs spējam izgudrot "viedus" būvmateriālus, kas absorbē organiskās un neorganiskās atmosfēras piesārņotājvielas, mēs ražojam autonomus putekļu sūcējus un spuldzes, kas pašas iedegas, kad atgriežamies mājās. Mēs spējam pieļaut, ka cilvēki dzīvo apvedbulvāra malā."
"Tad es pievērsos apstākļa vārdiem un sakārtojuma saikļiem, kas norāda uz pārrāvumu laikā (pēkšņi, negaidot), pretstatu (tomēr, toties, turpretī, taču) vai pieļāvumu (savukārt, lai gan, tomēr), es domāju tikai par tiem, centos tos sarindot, sašķirot, es nespēju neko pateikt, it neko, jo ap mani viss bija sagriezies virpulī - gan sienas, gan gaisma.
Un tad es secināju, ka gramatikā ir paredzēts viss - gan vilšanās, gan sakāve, gan nepatikšanas kā tādas."
"Tad es nodomāju, ka tāds nu tās lietas ir. Lietas, pret kurām esam bezspēcīgi. Mēs spējam uzsliet debesskrāpi sešsimt metru augstumā, uzbūvēt viesnīcas zem jūras un uzbērt salas palmu veidolā, mēs spējam izgudrot "viedus" būvmateriālus, kas absorbē organiskās un neorganiskās atmosfēras piesārņotājvielas, mēs ražojam autonomus putekļu sūcējus un spuldzes, kas pašas iedegas, kad atgriežamies mājās. Mēs spējam pieļaut, ka cilvēki dzīvo apvedbulvāra malā."
"Tad es pievērsos apstākļa vārdiem un sakārtojuma saikļiem, kas norāda uz pārrāvumu laikā (pēkšņi, negaidot), pretstatu (tomēr, toties, turpretī, taču) vai pieļāvumu (savukārt, lai gan, tomēr), es domāju tikai par tiem, centos tos sarindot, sašķirot, es nespēju neko pateikt, it neko, jo ap mani viss bija sagriezies virpulī - gan sienas, gan gaisma.
Un tad es secināju, ka gramatikā ir paredzēts viss - gan vilšanās, gan sakāve, gan nepatikšanas kā tādas."
January 3, 2015
A poignant tale of longing and belonging.
Have you ever befriended people who live on filthy streets?
Forget that question, have you ever looked at them in the eye?
Do you remember in your Social Science class, the books and the teachers always tell you that everyone is equal?
Do you believe it?
If yes, then why aren't you making friends with the poor? Why aren't you giving them food, clothes and a place to stay? How much can the Services set up by the Government help? There are millions of homeless people. Can we provide a home for all them? I don't think so. Very few with hearts made of gold will provide. Not everyone.
Lou is a person whose heart is made out of gold. She befriends No - a homeless street girl. I don't know why or how; it just happens. Their bond is...beyond words. I cannot understand how a little girl like Lou can be so big. Bigger than the biggest of the humans.
She understands the complexity of life. She wonders how life keeps going on and on. She's super clever. She conjugates theories when faced with difficult situations. She's beautiful in her own way.
And there's No who is as unique as Lou. She is very different. Very quiet. She doesn't speak much but this book is all about her.
I didn't like this book as much as I wanted to but it made me wonder. You know, there is so much happening, so much that doesn't include us. Often, the world revolves around us. We mess up our speech and fret over it for days but at the same time, somewhere someone is homeless, sick and dying and yet they keep quiet and accept life as it is.
I don't know where my thoughts are exactly going. One day, I want a free world. A world where everyone has a home, everyone can buy whatever they want without paying, do whatever they want (of course, not murdering and stealing and all), there could still be laws or new laws could be introduced, there could be so many changes.... It's seems very far- fetched, I know. Someday, I hope things change. I hope people change. I hope people have hearts made out of gold.
Have you ever befriended people who live on filthy streets?
Forget that question, have you ever looked at them in the eye?
Do you remember in your Social Science class, the books and the teachers always tell you that everyone is equal?
Do you believe it?
If yes, then why aren't you making friends with the poor? Why aren't you giving them food, clothes and a place to stay? How much can the Services set up by the Government help? There are millions of homeless people. Can we provide a home for all them? I don't think so. Very few with hearts made of gold will provide. Not everyone.
Lou is a person whose heart is made out of gold. She befriends No - a homeless street girl. I don't know why or how; it just happens. Their bond is...beyond words. I cannot understand how a little girl like Lou can be so big. Bigger than the biggest of the humans.
She understands the complexity of life. She wonders how life keeps going on and on. She's super clever. She conjugates theories when faced with difficult situations. She's beautiful in her own way.
And there's No who is as unique as Lou. She is very different. Very quiet. She doesn't speak much but this book is all about her.
I didn't like this book as much as I wanted to but it made me wonder. You know, there is so much happening, so much that doesn't include us. Often, the world revolves around us. We mess up our speech and fret over it for days but at the same time, somewhere someone is homeless, sick and dying and yet they keep quiet and accept life as it is.
I don't know where my thoughts are exactly going. One day, I want a free world. A world where everyone has a home, everyone can buy whatever they want without paying, do whatever they want (of course, not murdering and stealing and all), there could still be laws or new laws could be introduced, there could be so many changes.... It's seems very far- fetched, I know. Someday, I hope things change. I hope people change. I hope people have hearts made out of gold.
July 5, 2020
A very realistic YA novel about a homeless girl and the two young students trying to help her.
A good book for young people to learn about the difficult topics of homelessness, mental disease, alcohol/drug abuse and general neglect without getting too frightening.
3 stars.
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Die 13-jährige hochintelligente, aber sozial inkompetente Lou lernt durch ein Schulprojekt die 18-jährige obdachlose No kennen. Sie begreift mehr und mehr die konkreten Schwierigkeiten der Obdachlosen generell und von No im Besonderen und beschließt No zu helfen, sie zu "retten". Dabei unterstützt sie ihr 17-jähriger Klassenkamerad Lucas, der ebenfalls Probleme seiner ganz eigenen Art hat.
Als Leser ist hier einem von vorneherein klar, dass man kein rosarotes, wolkenweiches Happy End erwarten darf. Dafür wird die Geschichte von Anfang an viel zu nahe an der Realität erzählt.
Der Roman ist ganz klar ein Jugendbuch. Die Protagonisten sind Jugendliche und die angesprochenen Themen sind zwar nicht ohne, bleiben jedoch ziemlich an der Oberfläche.
Das Buch beschäftigt sich mit Obdachlosigkeit, Vernachlässigung, psychischen Erkrankungen, Alkohol- und Drogensucht und ist ein guter Einstieg für junge Menschen in dieses Themenfeld.
Mir hat gefallen, dass auch Lou und Lucas, die in wirtschaftlich gesicherten Verhältnissen leben ihr Päckchen zu tragen haben und dass alle drei Protagonisten versuchen, so gut es eben geht mit ihrem Leben zurecht zu kommen und ihm einen Sinn zu geben.
Die Autorin benutzt eine schöne Sprache und der Text verlangt dem Leser eine gewisse geistige Mitarbeit ab, ohne jedoch zu überforden.
Ein gutes Jugendbuch, das mir gefallen hat. 3 Sterne.
A good book for young people to learn about the difficult topics of homelessness, mental disease, alcohol/drug abuse and general neglect without getting too frightening.
3 stars.
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Die 13-jährige hochintelligente, aber sozial inkompetente Lou lernt durch ein Schulprojekt die 18-jährige obdachlose No kennen. Sie begreift mehr und mehr die konkreten Schwierigkeiten der Obdachlosen generell und von No im Besonderen und beschließt No zu helfen, sie zu "retten". Dabei unterstützt sie ihr 17-jähriger Klassenkamerad Lucas, der ebenfalls Probleme seiner ganz eigenen Art hat.
Als Leser ist hier einem von vorneherein klar, dass man kein rosarotes, wolkenweiches Happy End erwarten darf. Dafür wird die Geschichte von Anfang an viel zu nahe an der Realität erzählt.
Der Roman ist ganz klar ein Jugendbuch. Die Protagonisten sind Jugendliche und die angesprochenen Themen sind zwar nicht ohne, bleiben jedoch ziemlich an der Oberfläche.
Das Buch beschäftigt sich mit Obdachlosigkeit, Vernachlässigung, psychischen Erkrankungen, Alkohol- und Drogensucht und ist ein guter Einstieg für junge Menschen in dieses Themenfeld.
Mir hat gefallen, dass auch Lou und Lucas, die in wirtschaftlich gesicherten Verhältnissen leben ihr Päckchen zu tragen haben und dass alle drei Protagonisten versuchen, so gut es eben geht mit ihrem Leben zurecht zu kommen und ihm einen Sinn zu geben.
Die Autorin benutzt eine schöne Sprache und der Text verlangt dem Leser eine gewisse geistige Mitarbeit ab, ohne jedoch zu überforden.
Ein gutes Jugendbuch, das mir gefallen hat. 3 Sterne.
March 29, 2023
Todo fue extraño. Desde que elijo el libro de una de mis autoras favoritas y veo que no roza ni las 4 estrellas, me extraña.
Luego, veo de qué va, y me emociona.
Voy leyendo y si bien me gusta mucho, no conecto tanto con la protagonista.
Sigo adentrada en el libro, y me voy dando cuenta de que me interesan más las acciones secundarias que se suceden que las principales. Me encanta leer sobre el maestro Marin y sobre la madre de No, y sobre los chicos de calle, pero de nuevo, no conecto con los personajes.
Hacia la mitad hasta siento que me aburro.
Hay reflexiones que me matan y escenas que me duelen.
Hacia el final siento que no me termina de gustar del todo.
Cuando llega la última escena, me digo que lo adoré.
Ven? Extraño.
Creo que es como No cuando le decía a Lou:
Deja de pensar tanto que te vas a quemar las neuronas.
Ja.
Luego, veo de qué va, y me emociona.
Voy leyendo y si bien me gusta mucho, no conecto tanto con la protagonista.
Sigo adentrada en el libro, y me voy dando cuenta de que me interesan más las acciones secundarias que se suceden que las principales. Me encanta leer sobre el maestro Marin y sobre la madre de No, y sobre los chicos de calle, pero de nuevo, no conecto con los personajes.
Hacia la mitad hasta siento que me aburro.
Hay reflexiones que me matan y escenas que me duelen.
Hacia el final siento que no me termina de gustar del todo.
Cuando llega la última escena, me digo que lo adoré.
Ven? Extraño.
Creo que es como No cuando le decía a Lou:
Deja de pensar tanto que te vas a quemar las neuronas.
Ja.
January 24, 2013
“How do you find yourself at the age of eighteen out on the streets with nothing and no one? Are we so small, so very small, that the world continues to turn, immensely large, and couldn’t care less where we sleep?”
Four years ago, on my way home one night, I met a girl in the train. She was a kid really, selling cheap jewellery. I was standing by the exit, waiting to get down at the next stop. The train jerked, she dropped her stuff and I helped gather it all up – maybe that’s how we got talking. It was a conversation that lasted less than a minute because I had to get down soon, but I remember asking her where she lived. She said:
“Hamara toh koi thikaana nahi hai didi. Hum toh bas idhar-udhar so jaate hai. Kismet ho toh platform par.”
Translation :
“People like me don’t have destinations. We sleep here and there; on platforms when we’re lucky.”
I can’t stop thinking about that encounter ever since I began reading No and Me.
I liked this book a lot. I think I would have liked it just as much even if I hadn’t met that homeless girl that night. No and Me has an impressive subject, two brilliantly sketched characters and a beautifully written story. It’s amazing how this book, which I stumbled across by chance, has left such a deep-seated impression on me.
I won’t say that the book is perfect. A lot of the things that happen are too convenient . Plus the book ends so suddenly that it’s bound to leave a lot of readers feeling high and dry. But that doesn’t really matter – not to me at least.
For me, No and Me isn’t so much about the story as the strangely beautiful bond it explores between the two girls – Lou and Nolwenn. Two girls, who live in starkly different worlds within the same city. Two girls, who try to help each other and make promises they can’t keep. Two girls, who can never fit into each others’ worlds, no matter how hard they try.
And just like that incident in the train, this book doesn’t really make me sad; rather, I feel tormented, ill-at-ease and thoughtful. I feel guilty that I never asked her name. I wonder where she is now, where she’s sleeping tonight.
No and Me deserves a lot more readers than it gets.
“Before I met No I thought that violence meant shouting and hitting and war and blood. Now I know that there can also be violence in silence and that it’s sometimes invisible to the naked eye. There’s violence in the time that conceals wounds, the relentless succession of days, the impossibility of turning back the clock. Violence is what escapes us. It’s silent and hidden. Violence is what remains inexplicable, what stays forever opaque.”
June 11, 2022
Ein Jugendbuch, das dem Topos einer "ungewöhnlichen Freundschaft" einen Teilnehmer hinzufügt und sich neben der zentralen Behandlung von Obdachlosigkeit auch an Themen wie Depression, Hochbegabung, Vergewaltigung und jugendliche Verwahrlosung heranwagt. Dabei unterhielt mich dieses Buch vor allem durch eine mal rotzfreche, mal hoch emotionale, nur selten unsympathisch gezeichnete hochbegabte Ich-Erzählerin Lou.
Dabei sind allerdings alle Diskursebenen (wenn man`s hochtrabend formulieren mag) sehr dünn und speisen ihre Triebkraft eher aus der lauten Wiederholung und der heißfingrigen Schreibe als aus Tiefe. Die jungen Figuren - Lou und deren chronisch unangepasster Lusthappen Lucas - handeln allzu heroisch, opfern sich für die "wilde, obdachlose Füchsin" No auf, weshalb ich mir beim Duden das Wort "Jugendweisheitskitsch" sichern werde. Warum der böse Arbeitgeber von No als fetter, gieriger Mann ein reines Stereotyp sein muss, weiß ich auch nicht, ABER...
Mit welcher Inbrunst hier die Gesellschaft angejault und eine neue Freundin beschützt wird, hat mich erfreut.
Das ist Jugendliteratur, die Schwerpunkte setzt, Grundwerte ausarbeitet und damit bestens für die Schullektüre als Mind-Opener im juvenilen Verbund geeignet ist.
Dabei sind allerdings alle Diskursebenen (wenn man`s hochtrabend formulieren mag) sehr dünn und speisen ihre Triebkraft eher aus der lauten Wiederholung und der heißfingrigen Schreibe als aus Tiefe. Die jungen Figuren - Lou und deren chronisch unangepasster Lusthappen Lucas - handeln allzu heroisch, opfern sich für die "wilde, obdachlose Füchsin" No auf, weshalb ich mir beim Duden das Wort "Jugendweisheitskitsch" sichern werde. Warum der böse Arbeitgeber von No als fetter, gieriger Mann ein reines Stereotyp sein muss, weiß ich auch nicht, ABER...
Mit welcher Inbrunst hier die Gesellschaft angejault und eine neue Freundin beschützt wird, hat mich erfreut.
Das ist Jugendliteratur, die Schwerpunkte setzt, Grundwerte ausarbeitet und damit bestens für die Schullektüre als Mind-Opener im juvenilen Verbund geeignet ist.
May 16, 2021
Jā, Delfīne de Vigāna prot precīzi trāpīt pa cilvēku un sabiedrības vājākajām vietām un tā.
Cilvēciski un pārdomas raisoši. Lieliska grāmata!
Cilvēciski un pārdomas raisoši. Lieliska grāmata!
March 17, 2023
Delphine de Vigan siempre abordando temas necesarios, incómodos, de los que pocos se animan a tratar. Esta vez me ha sorprendido con esta historia tan inusual hablando de la problemática de las personas sin hogar. Mediante una peculiar niña, que es la protagonista y narradora, nos adentramos en la vida de 'No', una chica que vive en la calle. Las dos encuentran casi por casualidad y poco a poco van conociéndose y desarrollando una relación de amistad, a través de la cual vamos descubriendo las condiciones de vida de las personas sin techo, cómo 'No' llegó a esa situación, las dificultades para salir de ahí... Es muy muy impactante.
Dos personas que, a simple vista, no pueden ser más diferentes ni vivir realidades más desiguales pero que, en el fondo y emocionalmente, no tienen necesidades tan distintas. Y es que la autora presenta también a alguien "que lo tiene todo" materialmente pero sus carencias y dificultades caen sobre ella como un peso cada vez más difícil de llevar.
Depresión, duelo, dificultades de encajar cuando eres diferente, confianza, amistad... Todo está en esta historia, y Delphine consigue conectarlo, hilarlo y encajarlo con una narración muy especial que lo une a la perfección.
Dos personas que, a simple vista, no pueden ser más diferentes ni vivir realidades más desiguales pero que, en el fondo y emocionalmente, no tienen necesidades tan distintas. Y es que la autora presenta también a alguien "que lo tiene todo" materialmente pero sus carencias y dificultades caen sobre ella como un peso cada vez más difícil de llevar.
Depresión, duelo, dificultades de encajar cuando eres diferente, confianza, amistad... Todo está en esta historia, y Delphine consigue conectarlo, hilarlo y encajarlo con una narración muy especial que lo une a la perfección.
January 3, 2025
Delphine de Vigan siempre me sorprenderá con su narrativa tan sencilla y contundente. Este libro es juvenil, pero intenso, Lou te lleva de la mano por su vida, conoces a su familia, a sus amigos No y Lucas, lo que me encanta es como las palabras son para ella tan importantes, me parecio muy interesante y recomendable.
June 30, 2021
Gribēju sarakstīt daudz dažādas lietas, par ko aizdomājos lasot, bet aizverot grāmatas vāku, vairs īsti negribas neko. Ir skumji. Un pat bezcerīgi skumji.... Lieliska grāmata!
December 18, 2025
Cómo calan, qué dolor producen, las preguntas que no pueden ser contestadas. Durante esta lectura yo no he parado de hacérmelas y ahora tengo el corazón un poco más roto.
March 4, 2021
Hace algún tiempo leí un libro de Delphine de Vigan, “Nada se opone a la noche”, y me gustó mucho, pero por unas razones u otras no había vuelto a leer nada suyo. Sin embargo, hace unas semanas vi este libro en una librería, y después de ojear la contraportada y leer el primer capítulo, me fui a casa sin él. Volví al día siguiente por la mañana y me lo compré; no podía dejar de pensar en él, o mejor dicho, en ellas.
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Lou es una adolescente que va dos cursos adelantada en el instituto, porque es muy avispada, muy inteligente, muy curiosa y muy peculiar. En ocasiones cuenta todas las mariposas que hay en el papel pintado, e incluso a veces hace experimentos sobre flotación de diferentes materiales en la bañera de su casa. Lou, me gusta. Durante unas tardes observa a una chica, algo mayor que ella, en una estación de metro en París, y acaba invitándola a tomar algo en una cafetería; ella es No. No vive en albergues, es taciturna, es inteligente, tiene mucho dolor encima, y muchas preguntas también. Se las apaña muy bien sola, todo lo que le es posible. No, me gusta. Lou le propone a No hacerle una entrevista para un trabajo de tema libre que tiene que presentar en clase; quiere hablar de las personas que viven en la calle y No acepta. A partir de ahí empieza a dibujarse este libro que me ha parecido ágil, inteligente, con personajes muy bien configurados, y lo más importante de todo, un libro que toca allí donde escuece.
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Qué poco se habla de las personas que viven a los márgenes de la sociedad, cualquiera que sea la diferencia con “la persona modelo” que está en el centro pasa siempre a un segundo plano. “No y yo” entra de lleno para hablar, debatir y reflexionar acerca de las personas que no tienen techo. De cómo viven, de cómo se las apañan, de los problemas que acarrean, de las ideas preconcebidas que hay sobre cualquier persona que vemos durmiendo en un soportal.
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Es curioso cómo tenemos dentro de nosotras mismas normalizada la idea de la familia de anuncio, la de los cereales o la mantequilla, que se levantan felices por la mañana y comen todos juntos, y todos se quieren mucho, y son muy felices, muy blancos, muy heterosexuales y muy de clase alta con esas cocinas fabulosas, blancas y perfectas. Es curioso, decía, cómo hemos absorbido esa idea de familia como el ideal al que llegar, y cómo muchas personas precisamente se atormentan porque esa familia no la han conocido jamás. La vida no es un anuncio, pero por mucho que nos lo repitamos, magulla no tener ese amor que vemos cada día en la televisión, o en las marquesinas. Y como magulla, corrompe. Y como corrompe, nos olvidamos de que nosotras podremos estar mal, y tenemos derecho a estarlo, pero de la misma forma que nosotras sentimos dolor, todas las mujeres y niñas que están viviendo bajo los soportales de nuestras ciudades, o bajo las vías de circunvalación, también están mal, y no están allí por placer o por decisión propia. Se han visto avocadas a ello.
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Me gusta cómo Delphine describe a No; me gusta cómo escribe sobre la gente sin hogar. Y es así porque no romantiza nada, cosa muy común cuando se trata el tema. Tampoco propone una utopía donde acabamos con la pobreza y todos somos felices. Pero nos deja dentro esa semilla, por si no la teníamos, que debemos regar para darnos cuenta de que una de las cosas que debemos exigir a los gobiernos es que hagan leyes que permitan a las personas tener techo, agua, comida, y ayuda. Debemos ir en esa dirección, y yo os recomiendo fuerte, muy fuertemente, que leáis la historia de “No y yo”.
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«Somos capaces de enviar aviones supersónicos y cohetes al espacio, de identificar a un criminal a partir de un cabello o de una minúscula partícula de piel, de crear un tomate que se conserva tres semanas en el frigorífico sin una arruga, de almacenar en un chip microscópico miles de millones de datos. Somos capaces de dejar morir a la gente en la calle.»
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Lou es una adolescente que va dos cursos adelantada en el instituto, porque es muy avispada, muy inteligente, muy curiosa y muy peculiar. En ocasiones cuenta todas las mariposas que hay en el papel pintado, e incluso a veces hace experimentos sobre flotación de diferentes materiales en la bañera de su casa. Lou, me gusta. Durante unas tardes observa a una chica, algo mayor que ella, en una estación de metro en París, y acaba invitándola a tomar algo en una cafetería; ella es No. No vive en albergues, es taciturna, es inteligente, tiene mucho dolor encima, y muchas preguntas también. Se las apaña muy bien sola, todo lo que le es posible. No, me gusta. Lou le propone a No hacerle una entrevista para un trabajo de tema libre que tiene que presentar en clase; quiere hablar de las personas que viven en la calle y No acepta. A partir de ahí empieza a dibujarse este libro que me ha parecido ágil, inteligente, con personajes muy bien configurados, y lo más importante de todo, un libro que toca allí donde escuece.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Qué poco se habla de las personas que viven a los márgenes de la sociedad, cualquiera que sea la diferencia con “la persona modelo” que está en el centro pasa siempre a un segundo plano. “No y yo” entra de lleno para hablar, debatir y reflexionar acerca de las personas que no tienen techo. De cómo viven, de cómo se las apañan, de los problemas que acarrean, de las ideas preconcebidas que hay sobre cualquier persona que vemos durmiendo en un soportal.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Es curioso cómo tenemos dentro de nosotras mismas normalizada la idea de la familia de anuncio, la de los cereales o la mantequilla, que se levantan felices por la mañana y comen todos juntos, y todos se quieren mucho, y son muy felices, muy blancos, muy heterosexuales y muy de clase alta con esas cocinas fabulosas, blancas y perfectas. Es curioso, decía, cómo hemos absorbido esa idea de familia como el ideal al que llegar, y cómo muchas personas precisamente se atormentan porque esa familia no la han conocido jamás. La vida no es un anuncio, pero por mucho que nos lo repitamos, magulla no tener ese amor que vemos cada día en la televisión, o en las marquesinas. Y como magulla, corrompe. Y como corrompe, nos olvidamos de que nosotras podremos estar mal, y tenemos derecho a estarlo, pero de la misma forma que nosotras sentimos dolor, todas las mujeres y niñas que están viviendo bajo los soportales de nuestras ciudades, o bajo las vías de circunvalación, también están mal, y no están allí por placer o por decisión propia. Se han visto avocadas a ello.
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Me gusta cómo Delphine describe a No; me gusta cómo escribe sobre la gente sin hogar. Y es así porque no romantiza nada, cosa muy común cuando se trata el tema. Tampoco propone una utopía donde acabamos con la pobreza y todos somos felices. Pero nos deja dentro esa semilla, por si no la teníamos, que debemos regar para darnos cuenta de que una de las cosas que debemos exigir a los gobiernos es que hagan leyes que permitan a las personas tener techo, agua, comida, y ayuda. Debemos ir en esa dirección, y yo os recomiendo fuerte, muy fuertemente, que leáis la historia de “No y yo”.
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«Somos capaces de enviar aviones supersónicos y cohetes al espacio, de identificar a un criminal a partir de un cabello o de una minúscula partícula de piel, de crear un tomate que se conserva tres semanas en el frigorífico sin una arruga, de almacenar en un chip microscópico miles de millones de datos. Somos capaces de dejar morir a la gente en la calle.»
September 25, 2013
First, thank you Keertana for recommending this book to me. Your review pushed me to pick it up and I can’t tell you how glad I am that I did so.
I have this fascination with books written in different languages. Mostly because I can’t read them and I am immediately convinced they are troughs full of treasure that are locked to me because of my inability to read them. This is the feeling that drove me to learn English when I was a kid and the same feeling that drove me to learn Korean. I’m still working on the Korean but French and I had a short relationship that spanned just the four months that made up one term. I may go back and try to learn it again but until then, I will remain ever thankful to translated books. There are not many out there but I will try to read the ones that are.
I’m not so familiar with French lifestyle and culture to be able to comfortably comment on how French the novel is. And I don’t know if the translation changed the narrative in ways to make it accessible to North American readers (or should I say English readers). The book is told from the perspective of a very bright, very smart fourteen year old who is not just smart on paper but smart in the way she thinks and observes the world around her. No and Me is a painful novel. The pain, however, is juxtaposed by hope. There are different kinds of losses and Lou learns several heart wrenching lessons about life and people.
This novel is inordinately beautiful. The prose, the relationships between the characters and the subtle romance. There is no brashness that is so common in North American YA protagonists. Lou is more restrained, in fact, the entire novel is somewhat restrained. The passion is there but the flavor is different. No broke my heart and I will long wonder what happens to her. And that I think is the ultimate success of this novel. The author creates characters who linger in your memory long after the pages of the book have been turned.
I have this fascination with books written in different languages. Mostly because I can’t read them and I am immediately convinced they are troughs full of treasure that are locked to me because of my inability to read them. This is the feeling that drove me to learn English when I was a kid and the same feeling that drove me to learn Korean. I’m still working on the Korean but French and I had a short relationship that spanned just the four months that made up one term. I may go back and try to learn it again but until then, I will remain ever thankful to translated books. There are not many out there but I will try to read the ones that are.
I’m not so familiar with French lifestyle and culture to be able to comfortably comment on how French the novel is. And I don’t know if the translation changed the narrative in ways to make it accessible to North American readers (or should I say English readers). The book is told from the perspective of a very bright, very smart fourteen year old who is not just smart on paper but smart in the way she thinks and observes the world around her. No and Me is a painful novel. The pain, however, is juxtaposed by hope. There are different kinds of losses and Lou learns several heart wrenching lessons about life and people.
This novel is inordinately beautiful. The prose, the relationships between the characters and the subtle romance. There is no brashness that is so common in North American YA protagonists. Lou is more restrained, in fact, the entire novel is somewhat restrained. The passion is there but the flavor is different. No broke my heart and I will long wonder what happens to her. And that I think is the ultimate success of this novel. The author creates characters who linger in your memory long after the pages of the book have been turned.
February 16, 2024
Категорично Делфин дьо Виган се нарежда сред любимите ми автори! Признавам си, че не очаквах толкова много да харесам този и роман. Твърде различен ми се стори от първите два, които ме отвяха и умишлено отлагах прочита му.
“Но и аз” абсолютно неочаквано за мен зае специално място в сърцето ми. Изключително топла, мила и сърцеразбиваща ист��рия. Анотацията с нищо не ме подготви за бурята от емоции, която ме връхлетя. Нямам някакво специално отношение към децата разказвачи - не мога да кажа, че съм фен или пък, че ме дразни този подход. Лу Бертиняк, ме спечели още в първата глава. Тя е на 13, със супер висок коефициент на интелигентност, прескочила е 2 класа и е едно разкошно, объркано, тъжно и умиляващо същество. Прекрасна! Авторката и е придала толкова автентично звучене, наратива звучи по детски невинен, леко хаплив, на места объркан и безкрайно тъжен. Защото живота на Лу не е никак лесен. Има ��ределна точка и момент, в който всичко се е объркало в нейното семейство и тя остава без майка, макар и физически присъстваща в живота и.
Историята започва със запознанството на Лу с Ноулен (Но) - бездомно момиче, малко по-голямо от нея. Лу е запленена от нея и търси начини да помогне на Но. Пише проект за училище за бездомните жени в Париж и това променя хода на живота и. Темата за бездомните е много тежка и Делфин Дьо Виган се е справила брилянтно с пресъздаването и през погледа на Лу. Малко по-малко научаваме повече за миналото на двете момичета и сърцето ми спираше на моменти. Толкова голяма тъга и мъка и дистанцирана майчина фигура, че ми беше трудно да чета някои мисли на двете приятелки.
Нямам търпение след година- две да връча романа на дъщеря ми! Прекрасна история, която макар и доста тъжна има какво да даде на читателя! Аз останах изключително изненадана и удовлетворена. Замислих се за безброй ситуации, които ми предстоят като майка и успях да видя трудностите през очите, с които се сблъскват подрастващите през очите на Лу.
“Но и аз” абсолютно неочаквано за мен зае специално място в сърцето ми. Изключително топла, мила и сърцеразбиваща ист��рия. Анотацията с нищо не ме подготви за бурята от емоции, която ме връхлетя. Нямам някакво специално отношение към децата разказвачи - не мога да кажа, че съм фен или пък, че ме дразни този подход. Лу Бертиняк, ме спечели още в първата глава. Тя е на 13, със супер висок коефициент на интелигентност, прескочила е 2 класа и е едно разкошно, объркано, тъжно и умиляващо същество. Прекрасна! Авторката и е придала толкова автентично звучене, наратива звучи по детски невинен, леко хаплив, на места объркан и безкрайно тъжен. Защото живота на Лу не е никак лесен. Има ��ределна точка и момент, в който всичко се е объркало в нейното семейство и тя остава без майка, макар и физически присъстваща в живота и.
Историята започва със запознанството на Лу с Ноулен (Но) - бездомно момиче, малко по-голямо от нея. Лу е запленена от нея и търси начини да помогне на Но. Пише проект за училище за бездомните жени в Париж и това променя хода на живота и. Темата за бездомните е много тежка и Делфин Дьо Виган се е справила брилянтно с пресъздаването и през погледа на Лу. Малко по-малко научаваме повече за миналото на двете момичета и сърцето ми спираше на моменти. Толкова голяма тъга и мъка и дистанцирана майчина фигура, че ми беше трудно да чета някои мисли на двете приятелки.
Нямам търпение след година- две да връча романа на дъщеря ми! Прекрасна история, която макар и доста тъжна има какво да даде на читателя! Аз останах изключително изненадана и удовлетворена. Замислих се за безброй ситуации, които ми предстоят като майка и успях да видя трудностите през очите, с които се сблъскват подрастващите през очите на Лу.
July 31, 2020
Ce livre est une relecture pour moi et je lui donne de nouveau cinq étoiles.
C'est un récit émouvant d'une amitié entre deux adolescentes qui se recontrent et malgré leurs vies très différentes trouvent des points en communs... jusqu'à ce que leurs différences les séparent de nouveau.
'Par la fenêtre je regarde le ciel clair. Sommes-nous de si petites choses, si infiniment petites, que nous ne pouvons rien?'
Je retire une belle lecon de ce livre qui répond à cette question. Nous pouvons aider les autres mais seulement en sorte qu'ils apprennent à s'aider soi-même et s'envolent sans notre assistance.
C'est un récit émouvant d'une amitié entre deux adolescentes qui se recontrent et malgré leurs vies très différentes trouvent des points en communs... jusqu'à ce que leurs différences les séparent de nouveau.
'Par la fenêtre je regarde le ciel clair. Sommes-nous de si petites choses, si infiniment petites, que nous ne pouvons rien?'
Je retire une belle lecon de ce livre qui répond à cette question. Nous pouvons aider les autres mais seulement en sorte qu'ils apprennent à s'aider soi-même et s'envolent sans notre assistance.
May 11, 2021
brīnišķīgs vienas ļoti aktuālas sociālās problēmas portretējums daiļdarba formātā. ārkārtīgi cilvēcīgi, mazliet utopiski un tieši tāpēc tik svarīgi. tieši tagad, kad mums nenāktu par ļaunu izkāpt laukā no savām egoisma kurpēm un paraudzīties plašāk, lai ieraudzītu, kur un kā varam citiem būt noderīgi.
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