IMPORTANT COVID-19 UPDATES

9781466946019

Modern Azerbaijanian Prose

by
  • ISBN13:

    9781466946019

  • ISBN10:

    1466946016

  • Format: Hardcover
  • Copyright: 2012-10-03
  • Publisher: Textstream
  • Purchase Benefits
  • Free Shipping On Orders Over $35!
    Your order must be $35 or more to qualify for free economy shipping. Bulk sales, PO's, Marketplace items, eBooks and apparel do not qualify for this offer.
  • Get Rewarded for Ordering Your Textbooks! Enroll Now
List Price: $35.35 Save up to $1.77
  • Buy New
    $33.58

    USUALLY SHIPS IN 3-5 BUSINESS DAYS

Supplemental Materials

What is included with this book?

Summary

The book comprises of the best samples of Azerbaijani literature of the last 30 years. The anthology includes more than thirty short stories and novels of Ismail Shikhli, Isa Muganna, Anar, Akram Aylisli, Elchin, Alisa Nijat and etc. Azerbaijani prose was first published about half century ago during the Soviet period in Moscow. The world readers have since then lacked the opportunity to know about the success of the Azerbaijani literature. Therefore, this anthology is of great importance.

Excerpts

...That night he again crepitated as if was drown, thrashed around in his bed, felt that something cold twined around his ankle, then revolving went up turning into bow. Walked on his back, chest, twining around his body pressed it and feel onto his neck as a clew. Though he tried a lot but couldn't help escaping that cold cut off his breath, pressed his neck twining, when he his hold his hand out his wrist numbed. Thrashed around, tossed in his bed and suddenly opened his eyes with anxiety; looked at the ceiling and out of the window. After when the horror of the dream had left him, he realized that he was in his bedroom in his house. He touched his forehead with his hands. He was wet with sweat. His body was wet with sweat. The blanket over him had pressed his chest having become a thunderstone. Having pressed the bottom he switched the light on. Pushed away the blanket. He gazed on it. The coldness of the hadn't still left this soul that twined around his body. He thought that, the snake was hidden under the bed having slipped from the bedding. It will return as soon as the light is switched off. He put his slippers on. And went out to the corridor above the window. Suddenly saw the nursery. A faint light fell in thought the window. In the light he saw that one of the boys was sleeping on his stomach. His feet didn't go out not only of the blanket but also form the bed. But the other one had his knees twisted to his stomach, and was sleeping just the way he lied on his side since the evening. He stood, gazed at his children with an envy without ill will. He knew that if nobody woke them up they would sleep till the afternoon like this. He went to his workroom and felt himself a little better. Firstly he opened the window. Thought the light of the city was switched off the weather was clear. The waves of the sea was sparkling. The beacon near Nargin was twinkling as usual. The trees along the shore were having their forty winks. Nothing broke the silence of the night but wheel murmur of the cars speeding along the road... He used to dream in his childhood – in the past. The dream of those days were not like these day's. He would either fly from the endless ravine, hung over the water keeping liquorice root, run after deer on a horse, or fly on the clouds on the claw of the eagle, or fall down on his head in a noise of quickly running water. Perhaps that was a call of his great forefather that took him to the past – the period they lived in a cave. He didn't know. He realized only one thing that, these dreams were different. Ant took him not to further but very nearer times, yesterday, the day before yesterday in the dreams. He would returned o the village from the city to visit his old father and mother for some days, but couldn't come back. He saw that his father was exhausted and as he was small before now he turned into a wreck becoming more smaller, the light of his eyes became fainter, his clothes were worn out, all of his clothes were threadbare. Having leaned his elbows on a mutakka (a long narrow pillow or cushion filled with cotton) he had to rest on the bed in a hot room, to play with his grandchildren and bid his sister-in-law. His mother also became weaker. Thought she tied a woolen shawl over her stomach up to shoulder-blade she want hot, she couldn't get rid of the cold she had in her chicken-liver. They could live somehow in spring-summer, but they had difficulties in winter, even they didn't have wood timely. It wasn't hot as there was a stove in the house built of row brick. The house with ground floor was cold as its window had been covered with newspaper instead of glass. He saw all of these. The head of his heart was throbbing and his body was burning in the inside. He wanted to take them to the city with him, take care of them and even in their old times they could eat their son's bread. But he had nowhere to take them to. It had become hard to live in such times. He still was living in hotels and rental homes...

Rewards Program

Write a Review