By Anne Tyler
Maggie and Ira Moran were married for twenty-eight years–and it indicates: of their quarrels, of their workouts, of their skill to tolerate with affection each one other’s eccentricities. Maggie, a kooky, adorable meddler and an irrepressible optimist, desires not anything greater than to mend her son’s damaged marriage. Ira is infuriatingly useful, a guy “who must have married Ann Landers.” And what starts off as an afternoon journey to a funeral turns into an event within the unforeseen. As Maggie and Ira navigate the riotous twists and turns, they intersect with an diversified solid of eccentrics–and rediscover the magic of the line known as lifestyles and the enjoyment of getting someone subsequent to you to proportion the journey . . . bumps and all.
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Extra info for Breathing Lessons
Sample text
Er was één ding waar ik vanavond geen zin in had. Ik wilde er niet bij zijn wanneer Serge Lohman door de restauranthouder of dienstdoende gerant als een oude kennis zou worden begroet; hoe hij door de serveersters naar het mooiste tafeltje aan de tuinzijde zou worden begeleid, en hoe Serge zelf zou doen of het allemaal niks te betekenen had, dat hij diep in zijn hart altijd een gewone jongen was gebleven en zich daarom vooral op zijn gemak voelde tussen andere gewone mensen. Daarom had ik tegen hem gezegd dat we elkaar wel in het restaurant zouden zien en niet, zoals hij had voorgesteld, in het café om de hoek.
Omdat het goed was iets over dieren te leren – om iets van het zorgen voor dieren te leren, vermoed ik. Of de blaadjes die wij ’s ochtends door de tralies heen duwden van veldsla waren, weet ik niet meer, het leek er in elk geval sterk op. De hamster of marmot kauwde met zijn snelle tandjes op de sla en zat de rest van de dag stil in een hoekje van zijn kooi. Op een ochtend was hij dood, net als het schildpadje, twee witte muizen en de wandelende takken, die hem waren voorgegaan. Wat wij van dit hoge sterftecijfer zouden kunnen leren, werd in de klas niet behandeld.
Zei ik. ’ Ik moest Claire niet aankijken, wij kenden elkaar te goed, mijn ogen zouden me verraden. Daarom deed ik of ik het café rondkeek, of ik buitengewoon geboeid was door het schouwspel van de in levendige gesprekken verwikkelde gewone mensen. Ik was blij dat ik voet bij stuk had gehouden en dat we pas in het restaurant met de Lohmans hadden afgesproken; in gedachten zag ik Serge door de klapdeurtjes komen, zijn grijns die de gewone mensen zou aansporen om toch vooral door te gaan met waar ze mee bezig waren en niet op hem te letten.