By Julio Cortazar

A tender lady spends her summer season holiday in a rustic condominium the place a tiger roams . . . a guy examining a secret reveals out too overdue that he's the murderer's sufferer . . . within the fifteen tales accumulated here—including "Blow-Up," which used to be the root for Michelangelo Antonioni's movie of an analogous name—Julio Cortazar explores the boundary the place the standard meets the mysterious, even perhaps the poor.

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Sample text

Andrea, dear Andrea, my consolation is that there are ten of them and no more. It's been fifteen days since I held the las t bunny in the palm of my hand, since then noth­ ing, only the ten of them with me, their diurnal night and growing, ugly already and getting long hair, adolescents now and full of urgent needs and crazy whims, leaping on top of the bust of Antinoos ( it is Antinoos, isn't it, that boy who looks blindly? ) or losing themselves in the living room where their movements make resounding thumps, Letter to a Young Lady in Paris 43 so much so that I ought to chase them out of there for fear that Sara will hear them and appear before me in a fright and probably in her nightgown-it would have to be like that with Sara, she'd be in her nightgown-and then .

How tell you that in that interval everything has gone smash? Where you see that simple period I hear the circling belt of water break the dam in its fury, this side of the paper for me, this side of my letter to you I can't write with the same calm which I was sitting in when I had to put it aside to go to the committee meeting. Wrapped in their cube of night, sleeping without a worry in the world, eleven bunnies; perhaps even now, but no, not now- In the elevator then, or coming into the building; it's not im­ portant now where, if the when is now, if it can happen in any now of those that are left to me.

Mterward, as I was saying nothing, the man continued. H e had begun thinking exclusively of Luc, of Luc's fate. His mo ther had decided to send him to a vocational 50 Julio Cort6zar school, so that what she referred to as "his life's road" would be open to him in some decent way, but that road was already open, and only he, who would not have been able to open his mouth, they would have thought him in­ sane and kept him away from Luc altogether, would have been able to tell the mother and the uncle that there was no use wha tsoever, that whatever they might do the result would be the same, humiliation, a deadly routine, the mo­ notonous years, calamitous disasters that would continue to nibble away at the clothes and the soul, taking refuge in a resentful solitude, in some local bish·o.

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