The movie "call me by your name" is based on "The Summer Finale", and the movie plot lacks many fragments in the book. The book looks a bit like a little yellow book. The book tells how a boy (17 years old) fell in love with and pursued a man seven years older than him. He began to test each other and ended up together. In just three weeks, it was a time that two people remembered for a lifetime. After reading it, I feel that the most beautiful time of love may not be rolled sheets, the fierce quarrel and wanton injury, the long cold stranger and the difficult parting, but the cautious approach. This is the werewolf's own reading experience, but I found an excellent article in Douban and shared it with you.
At first, I thought it would take a teenager some time to recognize his desire and infatuation, but I didn't expect that he had already said that he had fallen into a crazy crush after only ten pages-what else to write? There are still 230 pages left. But I was wrong. For people in unrequited love, subtle emotional twists and turns can lead to the survival crisis of the whole person. It is a long way to write all those contradictory and complicated emotions. One moment they suffer in every way, and the next moment they fall into heaven. I hope he knows at once, and I hope he never knows. Imagine yourself dead and then let him know that he died for him. Like a fetish, I am obsessed with his wavy shirt, red swimming trunks and the angle of clavicle. Chasing his shadow all the time, and hoping to be chased by it all the time. For example, if there is only one audience, the director is his own play, lying by the pool and lying in the room, hoping that he can see himself sleeping in a corner, appreciate himself and fall in love with himself. This kind of unrequited love turns to thousands of times, because of the birth of Elio's son, a well-known professor, and because of Elio's erudition and sensitivity, he has put on a special coat of introspection. He constantly heckles himself, overthrows and admits that the desires and emotions in the process of juvenile growth are mixed with the struggle of self-positioning, forming a reading experience like drunkenness, which makes people unconsciously be led by the tangled narrative of teenagers and walk into it.
However, if there is only unrequited love, this book can only be said to be a diary of adolescent unrequited love, and it may sound * * *, but it must be shallow and plain, as short as all unrequited unrequited love. What really makes this book shine is the story in which they expressed their hearts to each other-going to Rome-and separated. It was after the ambiguous spell was broken and the love that truly belonged to two people began in generate that the whole story suddenly had an almost suffocating and sad atmosphere, like a feast at its warmest, and it was about to end. Because of the delicate description of the secret love in the previous article, this love, which was like a paradise and was born in the summer of Italy, was so sincere, so warm and so pure, except for everything else. Only you and I have each other and know each other. The body and soul meet each other naked and know each other better than knowing ourselves. "He is more mysterious than I am." It is precisely because it is so beautiful that people can feel the pain of losing it in advance when they enjoy it. There are many unforgettable scenes, not only because of the touching and romantic feelings, but also because the protagonist and we all know that the parting moment is close, and every minute is like counting down, that touching and romantic moment, so there will always be an indelible sadness that covers everything. For example, in the night wind, Oliver, sitting on a rock, looked at the sea at night and meditated alone. Elio went over and kissed him gently on the neck. Oliver said, "I have been happy here." For example, they are going to say goodbye to their three-day trip. In the early morning in Rome, they walked together on the way back to the hotel, drunk, kissed by the ancient wall in a strange city that no one knew, and sang Italian songs together before dawn. For example, Elio's imagination of time, when he and Oliver were sitting on the train to Rome, was describing what it would be like to come back alone three days later, and when he got off the train three days later, he expected that everything had not yet started, and tried his best to pray that the time could be reversed to June. When this summer is still in the future, he can meet Oliver again, as long as he can spend more time with him, even if it is a repetitive memory, but as long as it is the other side, even if it is repeated. Last but not least, I have a special buzz, because I also subconsciously imagine time. Whenever I face a time-limited problem, I will try to brainstorm what I will be like after the problem is solved in a few days. I have never told anyone about this kind of time-space jumping association in my mind before, but I accidentally read it in a book, which shows the author's subtle psychological and emotional observation of this kind of pain. Looking back on the past experience, the unbearable but doomed parting is indeed fierce enough to hold the neck tightly like a hand made of iron, and the whole world is no longer the same. Every ordinary paragraph has brought a sad factor, which makes people cry. I haven't felt this way for a long time, let alone in a virtual theme, but when I read the penultimate chapter of this book, these hands that grabbed my throat were always with me from beginning to end.
The last chapter of the fourth chapter is the most outstanding chapter in my opinion. I told my friend that Andre Aciman was really cruel. He put all the delicate descriptions, tiny and beautiful fragments in front of him, which many readers may not remember clearly when reading, and finally, in the days after Oliver and Elio separated, waves surged up, causing sudden stinging. If secret love is a chaotic mood, love is a passionate emotion, and parting is a sweet and bitter sadness, then the last chapter, under the training of time, is speechless melancholy, which is almost the footnote of all gains and losses in life itself. My father, who knows everything, said to Elio, "Everything between you and Oliver is precious and special. Most people live as if they have more than one life, dividing life into ideal and reality, or something in between, but our life, our life is only once. Before you react, your heart will be exhausted and your body will no longer be cared for. I envy you. I don't envy your pain at the moment, but I envy that you can feel this pain. " Only after many years did Elio understand that there was more than love, more than desire, even more than true love, and more than youth between him and Oliver. It was the epitome of all the best and shortest things in life. It was better to say that it was the only truth and the only "right" than that it was a mistake before, and then it was a mistake, and all the roads except this. Only that summer, every detail, every fragment, every road we walked together, every kiss and every hug were vividly engraved in the depths of time. They had really lived. Two lucky young people, because they met each other, touched the starry sky written by Van Gogh-the brilliant beauty beyond the world. Many years later, Elio calmly said to Oliver, You are the only person I'd like to say goodbye to when I die, because only then will this thing I call my life make any sense. And if I should hear that you died, my life as I know it, the me who is speaking with you now, will cease to exist.
You are the only one who wants to say goodbye when I am dying, because only in this way can this thing I call life have its meaning.
And if I hear the news of your death one day, my life as I know it, the one I talked to you in front of you, will no longer exist.
We remember everything, every detail. Because all the meanings in my life were condensed in that summer, and you, even after twenty years and countless changes in our own lives, are still everywhere in my world. Because it's like calling me by your name, calling you by my name. From then on, I am a more complete you, and you are a more complete me. Our lives, since that summer, have been one.
On the day of Elio's first confession, Oliver and he looked at the bay by the roadside, talked about Shelley who was drowned in this sea in legend, and talked about how his heart was taken back by his friends before being cremated. On their train to Rome, Elio mentioned how he imagined that Oliver's body was burned by fire in the place where Shelley was cremated at the beginning of summer, and he would hold on to his shirt, which would be his heart. At the last parting, Oliver took the antique postcard, Monet's berm, from Elio's wall, symbolizing their secret garden. After many years, Oliver said that he had written two letters on the back for Elio to guess. Elio couldn't guess. The answer is Cor Cordium. Heart of Hearts。 My body turns into smoke and dust, and my heart will always stay by your side, in that unique, unique summer.
Attached are several excerpts from the original text.
"I used to worry about how to undress; If he doesn't help, how can I take off my shirt and pants, stand naked with my arms hanging down, and signal to him: this is me, this is my virtue, come on, take me, I am yours. "
"He interrupted me:" Listen, you have a wonderful friendship. Maybe beyond friendship. I envy you. As far as I'm concerned, many parents would like the whole thing to go away, or pray for their son to get back on his feet soon. But I am not such a parent. As far as your position is concerned, if there is pain, take care of it; If there is a flame, don't put it out, and don't treat it roughly. It may be bad to keep us awake at night and shrink back, but it's no better to see others forget us before we want to be forgotten. In order to cure the problem with unreasonable speed, we deprive ourselves of so many things that we are bankrupt before we are thirty. Every time you start a relationship again, you can give less. What a waste not to feel in order not to feel! " I'm tongue-tied, and it's hard to accept it. "I overstepped?" He asked. I shook my head. "Then I'll tell you one more thing. Doing so can clear up the bad feelings between us. I may have been close, but I never had what you had. There is always something to stop me or hinder me. How you live is your business. But remember, our mind and body are unique. Many people live as if they have two lives to live, one is a model, the other is a finished product, and there are even various versions in between. But you only have one life, and before you finally realize it, your heart is tired. As for your body, one day no one will look at it again, let alone get close to it. Now I feel very sorry. I don't envy pain itself. But I envy you that it will hurt. "
"When I die, you are the only one I want to say goodbye to. Only then will what I call "my life" make sense. In case I hear the news of your death, what I know about my life and the person I am talking to you at this moment will not exist. "