A New Yorker the 8 de maio trouxe um novo conto de Jhumpa Lahiri, Once in a Lifetime. Como outros que li desta autora, muito bonito e um bocado triste.
É dela o livro de contos Interpreter of Maladies, em que as experiências cotidianas de indianos expatriados ou de seus descendentes são traduzidas com apelo universal. Um aspecto de sua prosa que me agrada muito é sua forma de sutilmente descrever os relacionamentos e humores das personagens. Um trecho de Once in a Lifetime:
Again and again I heard how much your parents had changed, how we’d unwittingly opened our home to strangers. There were complaints about how your mother did not help clean up after dinner, how she went to bed whenever it suited her and slept close to lunchtime. My mother said that your father was too indulgent, too solicitous of your mother, always asking if she needed a fresh drink, bringing down a cardigan if she was cold.
“She’s the reason they’re still here,” my mother said. “She won’t settle for anything less than a palace.”
“It’s no easy task,” my father said diplomatically, “starting a new job, a new way of life all over again. My guess is she didn’t want to leave, and he’s trying to make up for that.”
“You would never put up with that sort of behavior in me.”
“Let it go,” my father said, turning away from her and tucking the covers under his chin. “It’s not forever. They’ll leave soon enough and then all our lives will go back to normal.”