თეთრი ხიდი
Short Story Collection/Novel
Copyright holder: Rezo Gabriadze 1987
15.5X17
612 pages
ISBN: 9994077406

THE WHITE BRIDGE

GABRIADZE REZO

The book is a collection of short stories, a novel and a play. The collection is titled after acclaimed short story by Rezo Gabriadze The White Bridge which describes a long journey of the main hero who returns to his native town in search of his childhood experiences. Whereas human relationships always had been valued above everything else, the character of the town has changed. In spite of the familiar streets and places, the town is already no longer as it was in childhood: perceptions and making contacts are entirely different. In his childhood even spitting from the White Bridge was a completely different kind of experience from what it is now. Recollections of the past and the faces of acquaintances simultaneously evoke sadness and joy in the protagonist and in the reader alike. 

EXTRACT
Translated into English by Elizabeth Heighway

THE WHITE BRIDGE                                                                                                                               

I’m standing on the bridge, spitting into the river –
                      It doesn’t rhyme, but it’s a fact.-
                                         V. V. Mayakovski



I was a mama’s boy. I read books, always had a clean collar, was so good to beat up that it was rare for people to pass the opportunity to do so unless they were going on a business trip with a suitcase in each hand, or a mourner busy carrying a coffin. The war had just finished, life was hard, and people had little to give them pleasure and keep them entertained.

 
I was Library No. 6’s most avid reader. I had to be careful when I went to the li-brary. If anyone saw me they would beat me up, and so I was careful: first, I would casually cross to the other side of the road, then I would equally casually spit off the bridge, and when I was sure nobody was watching, I would quickly walk into the library.
 
I was sitting in the library that day too. Suddenly I became aware of the noise of the Rioni River. I guessed that somebody had opened the door. I looked up at the librarians: two unmarried women with nothing left to tell each other. The woman in front was standing over a kerosene heater with her legs apart and star-ing at the doors, white as a sheet. A flowery red heat rash spread up the inside of her legs. Keto Pavidloian seemed unable to close her mouth and slowly waved her backside from side to side behind her in search of a chair. Fear had spread through the library like mold across a damp wall.
 
At first I thought they’d seen Ipolite. Back then in our town there lived a rat they called Ipolite, because apparently the actor Ipolite Khvichia had thrown boil-ing water over him at some point. Ipolite was everywhere you went, at the Kutaisi traders’ association, the pawnshop, the market, the bank – bald, pink, and with a long green tail. He was a really unpleasant sight... (See PDF)


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