- 8,99 €
Richly expansive and deeply moving, an intimate novel of secret lives and painful histories from one of the finest storytellers we have
'This brilliant novel examines lives lived, losses accumulated, and the slipperiness of perception. Yiyun Li writes deeply, drolly, and with elegance about history, even as it's happening. She is one of my favorite writers, and Must I Go is an extraordinary book.' Meg Wolitzer
Lilia Liska is 81. She has shrewdly outlived three husbands, raised five children and seen the arrival of seventeen grandchildren. Now she has turned her keen attention to a strange little book published by a vanity press: the diary of a long-forgotten man named Roland Bouley, with whom she once had a fleeting affair.
Increasingly obsessed by this fragment of intimate history, Lilia begins to annotate the diary with her own rather different version of events. Gradually she undercuts Roland's charming but arrogant voice with an incisive and deeply moving commentary. She reveals to us the surprising, long-held secrets of her past. And she returns inexorably to her daughter, Lucy, who took her own life at the age of 27.
Must I Go is an unconventional epistolary novel, a gleefully one-way correspondence between the very-much-alive Lilia and the long-departed Roland. Though mortality is ever-present, this is ultimately a novel about life, in all its messy glory. Life lived, for the extraordinary Lilia, absolutely on its own terms. With exquisite subtlety and insight, Yiyun Li navigates the twin poles of grief and resilience, loss and rebirth, that compass a human heart.
Li (Where Reasons End) writes with relentless seriousness about a woman taking stock of her past while living in a nursing home. Lilia Liska, 81, works on annotating the collected letters of Roland Bouley, a Canadian writer, and writing a personal history for her favorite granddaughter, Katherine, while most people around her have "droopy lids and fogged-up eyes." Despite Lilia's five children and three marriages, Lilia is a solitary soul, harsh and short with family and strangers. Li presents Lilia's notes on Bouley whom Lilia had a brief affair with as a girl that resulted in the birth of Katherine's mother, Lucy and Lilia's writings to Katherine as windows into her interior, and the meandering story is laden with tortuous doses of Lilia's self-reflection and too-clever bon mots. Lucy's suicide and the toll it takes on Lilia's first marriage and Bouley's lifelong romance with the enigmatic poet Sidelle Ogden provide the story's emotional anchors, but more often than not, with Lilia and Bouley's stories confined to remembrances of the past, the love, longing, and loss that they recount fails to materialize for the reader. Li adeptly captures the dreamlike, bittersweet qualities of memory, but misses the color and substance that makes that remembrance worthwhile.