Nicola Barker - Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Nicola Barker - Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings» — ознакомительный отрывок электронной книги совершенно бесплатно, а после прочтения отрывка купить полную версию. В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: unrecognised, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.

Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

Two novels from Nicola Barker, published together in a single volume. ‘Small Holdings’: it’s all go in a little oasis of nature, in this stirring tale of subterfuge among the shrubbery – plus ‘Reversed Forecast’, the prize-winning first novel from England’s greatest female comic novelist.‘Small Holdings’ is set in an attractive park in north London. The protagonists are Phil, a chronically shy gardener; Doug, his imposing and unpredictable supervisor; and a malevolent one-legged ex-museum curator called Saleem. Phil strives nobly to maintain his equilibrium despite being systematically mystified, brutalised, drugged, derided and seduced. But when he loses his eyebrows, he decides to fight back.‘Reversed Forecast’ is a novel of gambling and allergies, music and dogs, set in some of London’s less scenic locations. Its characters select each other and try or don’t try to make winning combinations. But, as Ruby, this story’s soft-centred heroine, observes: ‘Losing, that’s the whole point of the gamble.’

Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings — читать онлайн ознакомительный отрывок

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

I’ll get him to stay, she thought, at least for tomorrow. He can look after her while I’m out, until she gets used to this place. He can take her to Hyde Park.

She continued to stroke the dog, who rested her chin on the carpet and closed her eyes.

Vincent watched this. He realized something. They wouldn’t get around to sex now. That’s what the dog meant. He hadn’t really considered sex, planned it, wanted it. Even so.

He snapped the record he was holding in half. It was a sharp, clean break. They both stared at him: Ruby, the dog.

‘You’re going to replace that record.’

He smiled. Of course he would. He studied the two halves to see what it was.

Ruby picked up the dog’s lead and attached it to her collar.

‘Where are you going? You haven’t finished eating yet.’

She ignored him, pulled on her jacket, checked for her keys and then opened the door. He was a bastard. She wanted to punch him. She stepped out into the hallway, the dog at her heels.

He stood up. ‘If anywhere’s open,’ he shouted after her, ‘You’re completely out of milk.’

Eleven

There was a painting in the living-room, a portrait, that Connor especially hated. ‘That’s her,’ he said, when he first showed Sam around his flat, ‘Sarah. I share this place with her.’

Sam liked the painting. It was creepy. A female nude. Lips, russet nipples, ribs.

‘Does she really look like that?’

He laughed. ‘She thinks she does. She’s so vain. You’ll meet her.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Los Angeles for a month. Helping to research a book on the paranormal.’

Sam was fascinated. ‘Para-normal. Not normal.’

‘She’s a researcher.’

‘And you don’t like her?’

The flat, she could tell, was the site, the centre, of subtle guerilla warfare. A picture; a wall-hanging; garish, orange hessian curtains. All Sarah’s contributions. Sam grew accustomed to spotting her in objects. Teapots, candles, cosmetics in the bathroom.

Connor claimed to be an aesthete. He said he hated clutter. But his bedroom, his territory, was full of musical flotsam: a drum-kit, African bongos, symbols, a tambourine. His records, his stereo.

Sam couldn’t learn much here, though. In the living-room, she inspected the bookshelves.

‘Henry James?’

‘Hers.’

‘Kurt Vonnegut?’

‘Mine.’

‘Psychoanalysis: the Impossible Profession?’

‘Hers.’

‘Dead Babies?’

‘Mine.’

‘Skinhead Escapes?’

‘Mine.’

She picked this book up. It was a cheap, trashy novella. She didn’t like it. She found it distasteful. ‘I wouldn’t want to own something like this.’

‘It’ll probably be worth a fair bit in a few years’ time.’

‘It’s exploitative.’

He nodded. ‘But sometimes that kind of stuff can be interesting.’

‘Oh.’

She put the book back on the shelf.

Connor. He was interested in everything. She’d learned this very quickly. He was pragmatic. And what was she? Idealistic. Full of ideals.

Connor’s problem, the way she saw it, was that he was interested in too much. He was funny and gentle, but he was fascinated by stupid, sometimes even bad, things.

‘My parents,’ Connor explained, ‘rented this place to Sarah while I was at college. She’s always been here.’

Sam liked her. I’ve been living with this woman, she thought, learning all about her.

It was early morning. Connor was still asleep. She’d risen to get herself a drink of water. On her way back to bed she paused in front of the painting. Bones, white flesh, red hair, red eyes. It was hung on the wall adjacent to Sarah’s room. Connor, she thought, is still sleeping. She touched the door handle, shuddered, pressed it down. Pushed.

Inside, the curtains were drawn. The bedspread was patchwork. She could smell patchouli oil. On the dressing-table, however, she noticed bottles of what appeared to be more sophisticated scent. She walked over and picked up a bottle of Rive Gauche, tentatively sprayed it into the air and sniffed. Next to the bed – she sat down and inspected it – was a book of women’s erotica. She opened it. Marilyn French. Anaïs Nin. She started to read, struggling in the half-light to focus on its ant-black print.

‘Hello.’

Samantha gave a start, almost dropping the book and the perfume. A tall, very thin woman stood in the doorway, grinning sardonically. She had bright, hennaed hair and a gaunt, striking face. In her hand she held a suitcase.

‘What are you reading?’

‘You must be Sarah.’

Sam stood up and quickly put the perfume back down on the dresser. ‘I shouldn’t be in here.’

Sarah walked into the room, threw her suitcase down on the bed, strolled over to the window and drew the curtains.

‘What were you reading?’

‘Angela Carter.’

‘Were you enjoying it?’

Sam nodded.

‘You must be Connor’s new friend.’

Sam didn’t much like this description of herself, but nodded again.

Sarah stared at her. Sam wore only a dressing-gown with nothing underneath. She tightened the belt self-consciously.

‘That picture,’ she said, confused and embarrassed, ‘in the living-room. It does look just like you.’

Sarah laughed at this. ‘Connor’s been telling you about my monumental ego.’

‘No. I didn’t mean that.’

‘The print is by Schiele. He’s very famous. He painted male nudes too.’

She opened her suitcase and peered at its jumbled contents.

‘How was Los Angeles?’

‘OK. I was working. Do you work?’

‘I’m a singer.’

‘Not with Connor’s group?’

‘No. I’m in a band with my mother.’

That’s a novelty.’

She started to unpack. ‘I’d rather strangle my mother than sing with her.’

Sam closed the book she was holding and put it down on the dressing-table.

‘You can borrow that if you like.’

‘Thanks.’ She picked it up again.

‘Angela Carter,’ Sarah said, frowning. ‘You like her?’

Sam nodded.

‘The way I see it,’ Sarah said, pulling out some clothes and shoving them into a wicker washing-basket at the foot of her bed, ‘there are two types of women. Those who think we’re the same as men, and those who think we’re different. Equal, obviously, but different.’

Sam was delighted. A proper conversation! Connor’s idea of animated chat was a discussion of the intricacies of Gram Parson’s fretwork.

‘Which type are you?’ she asked.

The first. But I don’t know about Angela Carter, and that makes me suspicious.’

‘I like her,’ Sam said, ‘I like that difference. Whatever it is.’

Sarah considered this for a moment and then said, ‘Maybe because you’re culturally different, you have a looser approach to questions of gender.’

‘Culture doesn’t come into it,’ Sam said, vaguely defensive. ‘I might be a different colour, but I still know that sex is more complicated than race.’

Sarah continued to unpack. She took some magazines from her case, some papers and a notepad.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Тёмная тема
Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.


Nicola Barker - The Cauliflower
Nicola Barker
Nicola Barker - Heading Inland
Nicola Barker
Nicola Barker - Love Your Enemies
Nicola Barker
Nicola Barker - The Yips
Nicola Barker
Nicola Barker - Reversed Forecast
Nicola Barker
Nicola Barker - Small Holdings
Nicola Barker
Nicola Barker - Darkmans
Nicola Barker
Nicola Barker - Behindlings
Nicola Barker
Отзывы о книге «Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Reversed Forecast / Small Holdings» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.

x