Without Blood
Alessandro Baricco
Language: English
Pages: 112
ISBN: 1400041457
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
From the author of the acclaimed international best-seller Silk, here is an unforgettable tale of the cruelty of war, a little girl’s shattered world, and her lifelong quest for revenge and healing.
When—in an unnamed place and time—Manuel Roca’s enemies hunt him down, they fail to discover Nina, his youngest child, hidden in a hole beneath his farmhouse floor. And so, doing just as her father instructed, she neither speaks nor stirs as he is viciously slain above her hiding place. Only after this carnage will one of the murderers discover Nina’s trapdoor. But Tito, a mere boy himself, is so enthralled by the sight of Nina’s perfect innocence that he says nothing to his accomplices.
By the time she has grown up, Nina’s innocence will have bloomed into something else altogether, and one by one the wartime hunters will become the peacetime hunted. But not until a striking old woman calls upon an old man selling newspapers in town—the old man Tito has become—can we know what Nina will ultimately make of her brutal legacy. With the indelible truth of a fable, Without Blood reminds us that all wars are the same—the same mistake infinitely repeated in the hearts and deeds of wronged men and women—and that no life can remain untouched by loss or by hope.
the bottom of a river, or at the foot of a cliff, in a place where sooner or later a tramp would find you. They told me that it was all over. I thought nothing. It struck me, that business about your being mad, and I remember that I wondered what sort of madness it was: if you wandered around the house screaming, or if you were just silent, in a corner, counting the floorboards and holding a piece of string tight in your hand, or the head of a robin. The idea one has of crazy people is ludicrous,
tired. He observed, as if from a distance, the woman’s eyes wander about the café and over the table: resting everywhere except on him. He realized that he still had his overcoat on, and so he sank his hands in the pockets. He felt the collar pulling at his neck, as if he had put a stone in each pocket. He thought of the people around, and found it funny how no one, at that moment, could have any idea of what was happening. Seeing two old people at a table one would find it difficult to imagine
or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Vintage is a registered trademark and Vintage International and Colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc. The Library of Congress has cataloged the Knopf edition as follows: Baricco, Alessandro [date] [Senza sangue. English] Without blood / Alessandro Baricco ; translated from the Italian by Ann Goldstein—1st American ed. p. cm. I. Goldstein, Ann, 1949–. II. Title. PQ4862.A6745S4513 2004 853'.914—dc22 2003058917 www.vintagebooks.com
fingers. French. “I’ve wasted a lot of time on you, you know?” he said. Manual Roca looked up at him. “Three hundred kilometers to come down here and get you. It’s a long way.” “Tell me what you want and go.” “What I want?” “What do you want, Salinas?” Salinas smiled. “What did you say?” “The war is over.” Salinas stood over Manuel Roca. “The winner decides when a war is over.” Manuel Roca shook his head. “You read too many novels, Salinas. The war is over, that’s it, get it?” “Not
could hear El Gurre banging with his gun against the walls of the house. A muted meticulous sound. Outside it was dark. He lowered the trapdoor. Slowly. He remained there, on his knees, to see if through the cracks in the floor he could see the child. He would have liked to think. But he couldn’t. Every so often he was too tired to think. He got up. He put the baskets back. He felt his heart banging against his temples. They went out into the night like drunks. El Gurre supported Salinas,