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- KurzbeschreibungFrom the extraordinary Colombian French politician and activist Ingrid Betancourt, a stunning debut novel about freedom and fate<br>Set against the backdrop of Argentina's Dirty War and infused with magical realism, The Blue Line is a breathtaking story of love and betrayal by one of the world's most renowned writers and activists. Ingrid Betancourt, author of the New York Times bestselling memoi r Even Silence Has an End , draws on history and personal experience in this deeply felt portrait of a woman coming of age as her country falls deeper and deeper into chaos.<br>Buenos Aires, the 1970s. Julia inherits from her grandmother a gift, precious and burdensome. Sometimes visions appear before her eyes, mysterious and terrible apparitions from the future, seen from the perspective of others. From the age of five, Julia must intervene to prevent horrific events. In fact, as her grandmother tells her, it is her duty to do so-otherwise she will lose her gift.<br>At fifteen, Julia falls in love with Theo, a handsome revolutionary four years her senior. Their lives are turned upside down when Juan Perón, the former president and military dictator, returns to Argentina. Confronted by the realities of military dictatorship, Julia and Theo become Montoneros sympathizers and radical idealists, equally fascinated by Jesus Christ and Che Guevara. Captured by death squadrons, they somehow manage to escape. . . .<br>In this remarkable novel, Betancourt, an activist who spent more than six years held hostage by the FARC in the depths of Colombian jungle, returns to many of the themes of Even Silence Has an End . The Blue Line is a story centered on the consequences of oppression, collective subservience, and individual courage, and, most of all, the notion that belief in the future of humanity is an act of faith most beautiful and deserving.
- AutorIngrid Betancourt
- VerlagPenguin Pr
- FormatGebundene Ausgabe
- Seiten368 Seiten
- Gewicht490 g
- LeseprobeAlso by Ingrid Betancourt<br>Title Pag e<br>Copyright<br>Dedication<br>1. THE YOUNG WOMAN IN BLACK<br>2. THE FIRST JOURNEY<br>3. MAMA FINA<br>4. DECRYPTION<br>5. THE MASK<br>6. THE EZEIZA MASSACRE<br>7. FATHER MUGICA<br>8. THE SOURCE<br>9. THE NIGHTMARE<br>10. THE COUP D'ÉTAT<br>11. THE VISE<br>12. THE FAIRFIELD INN<br>13. THE RETURN<br>14. THE NEIGHBORS<br>15. DIANE<br>16. THE BERKSHIRE MANOR<br>17. CASTELAR POLICE STATION<br>18. THE CELL<br>19. LA MÁQUINA<br>20. THE ESCAPE<br>21. THE TRAP<br>22. THE FATHER<br>23. HAEDO<br>24. VILLA DEVOTO<br>25. RUBENS<br>26. THE YOUNG KOREAN<br>27. ULYSSES<br>28. THE MOVE<br>29. THE RULE<br>30. THE LIE<br>31. ANNA<br>32. BUENOS AIRES<br>33. THE FORENSIC ANTHROPOLOGY TEAM<br>34. THE CHOICES<br>35. MARIA<br>36. UNCLE MAYOL<br>37. EL DIABLO<br>38. OF LOVE AND HATE<br>39. THE PLANE<br>EPILOGUE<br>1.<br>THE YOUNG WOMAN IN BLACK<br>End of Boreal Summer<br>2006<br>She looks into the distance.<br>She sees the mauve line between the sea and the flawless blue sky.<br>She sees the wind moving across the water. She can see it coming. Then she's not quite sure.<br>-<br>But the wind sweeps over the path of trembling grass. It slithers, climbs up the bank, and chafes the hedge that ends at the beach in a cross shape. Then it falls silent, crouching like a wild animal, watching the street. Gathering momentum, it swoops down onto the asphalt, skips over the manicured hydrangeas, and picks up strength.<br>She watches, intrigued, as it advances. It's coming closer now, brushing against the painted wooden houses, very close. It glides up the old maple tree that fills her window and coils itself snakelike around the trunk, transforming the branches into long, twitching fingers.<br>It taps at her window. It presses up against the glass. It whistles and calls to her as the rattling branches beat against the panes.<br>Julia is happy. She tugs impatiently at the lock on the frame and forces the window open. Leaning out, she allows the vagabond wind to sweep in and fill her entire being, breathes in deep lungfuls of its sharp air. She closes her eyes. She recognizes that salty, tarry smell. This Connecticut wind is strangely similar to the wind of her Buenos Aires childhood. It's not as intense, perhaps; lighter, more delicate. Or perhaps not. She knows from experience that memory can't be relied on to capture the true essence of things. The present often seems less vibrant than our recollections of the past.<br>Even so, Julia couldn't be happier.<br>She smiles. She likes the restraint of her surroundings: the neatly clipped shrubs in the gardens across the way, the carefully aligned elms along the avenue that runs perpendicular to the beach, the hedge and the grass that frame the fine sand like a rampart stretching parallel to the waves, and the horizon like a straight line drawn from one end to the other.<br>It suits her, this symmetry. She has finished putting her life in order. She is in her rightful place, living the destiny she has chosen for herself, with the man she has always loved. Julia feels fulfilled.<br>She looks up at the azure sky above her maple tree. Happiness is blue. Blue horizon, blue water.<br>A Mark Rothko painting, she thinks, forming a picture frame in the air with her fingers.<br>She'd like to hang that painting just in front of her face to remind herself that happiness is right there, within arm's reach.<br>Funny. This idea that happiness is blue: it's as if she's had this thought before.<br>All of a sudden the wind sets up a high-pitched whistling and rushes in through the window. Maple twigs catch at Julia's dress and scratch her skin. The sky has gone dark. Julia shivers. The air smells humid. The next moment a flash of lightning rips her painting from to
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