Eleven minutes - Paulo Coelho. Paulo coelhoeleven minutes

31.07.2019

Current page: 1 (total book has 13 pages) [accessible reading excerpt: 3 pages]

Paulo Coelho
eleven minutes

dedication

It was not the first time I heard these words, but every time I rejoiced at them. However, at that moment I was very confused, because I knew that “Eleven Minutes” is a book that talks about such a subject that can confuse, shock, and hurt. I went to the source, got water, returned, asked where this man lived (it turned out - in the north of France, on the border with Belgium), and wrote down his name.

This book is dedicated to you, Maurice Gravelines. I have obligations to you, to your wife and granddaughter - but also to myself: I must talk about what cares and occupies me, and not about what everyone would like to hear from me. Some books make us dream, others immerse us in reality, but all of them are imbued with the most important thing for the author - sincerity.

For I am the first and I am the last

I am honored and despised

I am a harlot and a saint

I am a wife and a virgin

I am mother and daughter

I am my mother's hands

I am barren, but my children are countless

I am happily married and single

I am the one who brings into being

and the one who will never give offspring

I relieve birth pains

I am husband and wife

And I gave birth to my husband

I am my father's mother

I am my husband's sister

worship me forever

For I am evil and generous.

Hymn to Isis discovered at Nag Hammadi, 3rd or 4th century (?) BC e.

And so, a woman of that city, who was a sinner, having learned that He was reclining in the house of the Pharisee, brought an alabaster vessel with myrrh;

And, standing behind at His feet and weeping, she began to pour her tears over His feet and wipe her head with her hair, and kissed His feet, and smeared with myrrh.

Seeing this, the Pharisee who invited Him said in himself: if He were a prophet, he would know who and what woman touches Him, for she is a sinner.

Turning to him, Jesus said: Simon! I have something to tell you. He says: Tell me, Master.

Jesus said: One creditor had two debtors: one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty;

But as they had nothing to pay, he forgave them both. Tell me, which of them will love him more?

Simon answered: I think the one to whom he forgave more. He said to him: You have judged correctly.

And turning to the woman, he said to Simon, Do you see this woman? I came to your house, and you did not give me water for my feet; but she poured her tears over my feet and wiped them with the hair of her head.

You didn't give me a kiss; and since I came, she has not ceased kissing my feet.

Therefore, I say to you: her many sins are forgiven because she loved much; but to whom little is forgiven, he loves little.

Gospel of Luke 7:37–47

Once upon a time there was a prostitute named Maria. Wait a minute! “Once upon a time” is good for the beginning of a fairy tale, and the story of a prostitute is clearly for adults. How can a book open with such a glaring contradiction? But since each of us has one foot - in a fairy tale, and the other - over the abyss, let's still continue as we started. So:

Once upon a time there was a prostitute named Maria.

Like all prostitutes, she was born pure and immaculate, and while growing up, she kept dreaming that she would meet the man of her dreams (to be handsome, rich and smart), marry him (white dress, veil with orange blossom), give birth to two children (they will grow up and become famous), will live in a good house (with a view of the sea). Her father sold from a stall, her mother sewed, and in her hometown, lost in the Brazilian outback, there was only a cinema, a restaurant and a bank - all in the singular, and therefore Maria waited tirelessly: the day would come and come without warning, the handsome prince will fall in love with her without memory and take her away to conquer the world.

In the meantime, there was no Prince Charming, all that remained was to dream. She fell in love for the first time when she was eleven years old, on her way from home to school. On the very first day of classes, Maria realized that she had a traveling companion: a neighbor's boy went to school with her on the same schedule. They never exchanged a word with each other, but she began to notice that she liked most of all those moments when, along a long road - a column of dust, the sun scorches mercilessly, thirst torments - she keeps up, struggling out of her strength, behind the boy who walks fast.

And so it went on for several months. And Maria, who could not stand studying and, apart from TV, did not recognize other entertainments - and there were none - mentally adjusted the time so that the day would pass quickly, morning would come and you could go to school, and Saturdays and Sundays - not in an example to her classmates - she completely fell out of love.

And since, as you know, time passes more slowly for children than for adults, she suffered and was very angry that these endless days give her only ten minutes of love and thousands of hours - to think about her lover and imagine how wonderful it would be. if they talked.

And so it happened.

One fine morning the boy approached her and asked if she had an extra pen. Maria did not answer, pretended to be offended by such a daring trick, and added a step. But when she saw that he was heading towards her, everything shrank inside her: suddenly she realized how much she loved him, with what impatience she was waiting, how she dreamed of taking his hand and, passing the doors of the school, walking further and further along the the road until it ends, until it leads to where - people say - there is a big city, and everything will be exactly like they show on TV: artists, cars, movies on every corner, and there are no pleasures and entertainments.

The whole day she could not concentrate on the lesson, tormented that she had behaved so stupidly, and at the same time exulting because the boy finally noticed her, and that he asked for a pen - this is just an excuse, an excuse to start a conversation: after all, when he approached, she noticed that his own was sticking out of his pocket. And that night - and all subsequent ones - Maria kept thinking about how she would answer him next time, so as not to make a mistake and start a story that would have no end.

But there was no next time. Although they continued to walk the same way to school as before - Maria sometimes walked in front, clutching a pen in her right fist, and sometimes lagged behind so that she could look at him tenderly from behind - but he did not say a word to her anymore, so until the very end of the school year, she had to love and suffer in silence.

And then the endless holidays dragged on, and then one day she woke up covered in blood, thought she was dying, and decided to leave this same boy a farewell letter, confess that she had never loved anyone in her life, and then run away into the forest to be there. torn apart by a werewolf or a headless mule - one of those monsters that kept the surrounding peasants in fear. Only if such a death overtakes her, she thought, will her parents not be killed, because the poor are so arranged - troubles fall on them like from a thin bag, but hope still remains. So let her parents think that some childless rich people took their girl to them and that, God willing, someday she will return to her father's house in all its splendor and with a lot of money, but the one whom she fell in love with (for the first time, but forever), will remember her all his life and every morning reproach himself for not turning to her again.

But she did not have time to write a letter - her mother entered the room, saw blood stains on the sheet, smiled and said:

“You have grown up, my daughter.

Maria tried to understand how her growing up was connected with the blood flowing down her legs, but her mother did not really explain - she only said that there was nothing wrong with that, it would just have to be tucked every month for four or five days with something like a doll pillow. She asked if men used it to keep blood from staining their trousers, but she learned that it only happened to women.

Mary reproached God for such injustice, but in the end she got used to it, got used to it. But to the fact that she no longer meets the boy - no, and therefore she constantly scolded herself for acting so stupidly, running away from what was most desirable to her in the world. Even before the start of classes, she went to the only church in their town and before the image of St. Anthony swore that she herself would be the first to speak to the boy.

And the next day I dressed up as best I could - I put on a dress made by my mother especially on the occasion of the start of classes - and left the house, rejoicing that, thank God, the holidays were over. But the boy was not. She suffered for a whole week before one of her classmates told her that the object of her sighs had left the town.

At that moment, Maria realized that something could be lost forever. And I also realized that there is a place in the world called “the far end”, that the world is big, and her town is tiny, and that the brightest, best people eventually leave it. And she would also like to leave, but still small. But all the same, looking at the dusty streets of her town, she decided that someday she would follow in the footsteps of this boy. Nine weeks later, on Friday, as prescribed by the canon of her faith, she went to the first communion and asked the Virgin Mary to take her away from this wilderness someday.

For some time she yearned, unsuccessfully trying to find a trace of the boy, but no one knew where his parents had moved. It seemed to Mary then that the world was perhaps too big, that love was a dangerous thing, that the Blessed Virgin lives somewhere in the seventh heaven and does not really listen to what Her children ask for in their prayers.

Three years have passed. Maria studied mathematics and geography, watched TV shows, leafed through obscene magazines for the first time at school and started a diary where she began to enter thoughts about the gray monotony of her life, about how she wants to see snow and the ocean in reality, people in turbans, elegant ladies in jewelry - in a word, everything that was shown on TV and what was told in the lessons. But since no one has yet managed to live only with unrealizable dreams - especially if your mother is a seamstress and your father sells from a stall - then Maria soon realized that she should take a closer look at what was happening nearby and around. She began to study diligently and at the same time - to look for someone with whom she could share her dreams of another life. And when she was fifteen, she fell in love with a boy whom she met during the procession on Holy Week.

No, she did not repeat that old mistake - with this boy they talked, and became friends, went to the cinema and on all sorts of holidays together. However, she also noticed something similar to her first feeling: she felt love more sharply not in the presence of the object of her love, but when he was not around - that's when she began to miss him, imagining what they would talk about when they met, remembering in great detail every moment spent together, trying to figure out if she did it or said it. She liked to imagine herself an experienced girl who once missed her lover, failed to save passion, knows how painful the loss is - and now she decided to fight with all her might for this person, to marry him, give birth to children, live in a house by the sea. I talked to my mother, but she pleaded:

“It’s early for you, daughter.

“But at the age of sixteen you were already married to my father.

The mother did not begin to explain to her that she hurried down the aisle, because there was an unexpected pregnancy, but limited herself to the phrase “then there were other times,” and the topic was closed on that.

And the next day, Maria and her boy walked around the surrounding fields. We didn't talk much this time. Maria asked if he would not like to travel around the world, but instead of answering, he suddenly grabbed her and kissed her.

First kiss! How she longed for him! And the situation was quite suitable: herons were circling above them, the sun was setting, music was heard somewhere in the distance, and the meager landscape was full of furious, not at all peaceful beauty. Maria at first pretended to want to push him away, but in the next moment she herself hugged him and - how many times she had seen it in movies, on TV, in magazines! - with force pressed her lips to his lips, tilting her head to the left, then to the right, obeying her most uncontrollable rhythm. Sometimes his tongue touched her teeth, giving her an unknown and very pleasant sensation.

But he suddenly stopped.

- You don't want to?

What could she say? Did not want? Of course I wanted to, I wanted to! But a woman should not speak in this way, and even with her future husband, otherwise he will think all his life that he got her without any difficulty, without the slightest effort, and that she very easily agrees to everything. And so Mary chose to remain silent altogether.

He hugged her again, again pressed his lips to hers - but without the previous heat. And he stopped again, blushing deeply. Maria guessed - something went wrong, but what exactly - she was too shy to ask. Holding hands, they walked back and talked along the way about foreign objects, as if nothing had happened.

And in the evening, choosing her words with difficulty and very carefully - she was sure that someday everything she wrote would be read - and not doubting that something very important had happened that day, Maria entered in her diary:

When we fall in love, it seems that the whole world is with us at the same time; today, at sunset, I was convinced of this. And when something is wrong, nothing remains - no herons, no music in the distance, no taste of his lips. And where did all this beauty disappear and disappear so soon - after all, just a few minutes ago it was still there, it surrounded us ?!

Life is very swift: in an instant we fall from heaven into the very underworld.

The next day, she decided to talk to her friends. After all, everyone saw how she walked with her boyfriend - we agree that love alone, even the greatest, is not enough: you still need to make sure that everyone around knows that you are loved and desired. Her friends were dying to ask how and what, and Maria, excited by new impressions, told everything without concealment, adding that it was most pleasant when his tongue touched her teeth. Hearing this, one of the friends burst out laughing:

“So you didn’t open your mouth, did you?”

And in an instant everything became clear to Mary - both the boy's question and his sudden annoyance.

- What for?

“Otherwise, you won’t stick your tongue out.”

- What's the difference?

“I can't explain to you. It's just that when they kiss, they do it.

Suppressed chuckles, feigned sympathy, the secret gloating of girls who have not yet fallen in love with anyone. Maria pretended not to attach any importance to this, and laughed with everyone. I laughed, laughed, but in my heart wept bitterly. And she silently cursed the cinema, thanks to which she learned to close her eyes, wrap her fingers around the back of the head of the one you kiss, turn her head a little to the left, then a little to the right - but the most important, the most important thing was not shown there. She came up with an excellent explanation (“I didn’t want to kiss you for real then, because I wasn’t sure that you were the man of my life, but now I understand ...”) and began to wait for the right opportunity.

But three days later, at a party in a city club, she saw that her lover was standing, holding the hand of her friend - the same one who asked her this fatal question. Once again, Maria pretended not to care, and heroically made it to the very end of the party, discussing film actors and other celebrities with her friends and pretending not to notice how sympathetically they looked at her from time to time. And only after returning home and feeling: the world collapsed! - gave vent to tears and cried all night. For eight whole months after that, she suffered, coming to the conclusion that she was not made for love, and love was for her. She even seriously began to think about whether she should take the veil as a nun so that she could devote the rest of her days to love that does not cause such torment, does not leave such scars on the heart - love for Jesus.

The teachers told about missionaries going to Africa, and she saw this as a way out for herself - does it matter, since there is no more room for feelings in her life ?! Maria made plans to go to a monastery, but for now she learned how to provide first aid (in Africa, they say, people die like that), became especially diligent in the lessons of the Law of God and imagined how she, like the second Mother Teresa, would save people's lives and explore wild forests where lions and tigers roam.

It just so happened that in the year of her fifteenth birthday, Maria, in addition to what she learned - you need to kiss with your mouth open, and love brings only suffering, made another discovery. Masturbation. Like any discovery, it happened almost by accident. Once, while waiting for her mother, she touched and stroked herself between her legs. She did this when she was still very young, and the sensations were very pleasant. But one day her father caught her doing this - and severely whipped her, without explaining why. She remembered the thrashing she received forever, having learned firmly that you can caress yourself only when no one sees, and you can’t in public, but since you won’t do it in the middle of the street, and Maria didn’t have her own room, she soon forgot.

I forgot - until the very day when almost six months had passed since the unsuccessful kiss. Mother stayed somewhere, there was nothing to do, father went somewhere with a friend, nothing interesting was shown on TV, and out of boredom, Maria began to look at herself and study her body - did an extra hair grow somewhere, which in this case should be plucked immediately with tweezers. To her own surprise, she noticed a little higher that place, which in erotic magazines affectionately referred to as "mink" or "slit", a small bump; touched him - and could no longer stop: the pleasure grew stronger, and her whole body - especially where her fingers fluttered - tensed, as if swollen. Little by little it began to seem to her that she was simply in paradise, the pleasure became brighter and sharper, Maria no longer heard anything, some kind of yellowish haze waved before her eyes, and now she shuddered and groaned from the first orgasm in her life.

It seemed to her that she had taken off into the very sky and now, slowly descending, she was floating in the air on a parachute. Her whole body was covered with perspiration, and along with an extraordinary surge of strength, she experienced a strange, blissful feeling - as if something had come true, taken place, come true. Here it is - sex! What a miracle! No obscene magazines, where they talk so much about unearthly pleasure. No men are needed who love only the body, but spit into the soul of a woman. You can be and enjoy one! Maria made a second attempt, this time imagining that she was being caressed by a famous actor, and again ascended to heaven, and again slowly descended to earth, charged with even more energy. When she started the third session, her mother returned.

She discussed her discovery with her friends, omitting, however, that she had made it a few hours ago. All the girls - with the exception of two - understood her perfectly, but no one dared to speak openly about it. Maria, feeling herself at that moment a subversive of the foundations, a leader, suggested a new game of "secret confessions": let each tell about her favorite way of masturbation. She learned several different methods - one girl advised doing this in the very heat under the covers (for, according to her, sweat is very conducive), another used a goose feather to tickle this very place (she did not know what it was called), the third suggested , so that the boy did it (Maria considered this completely unnecessary), the fourth used the rising shower in the bidet (Maria did not even hear about any bidet at home, but she was visiting rich friends, so there was a place for the experiment).

Anyway, after learning what masturbation was and trying out some of the new methods that her friends had shared with her, she forever abandoned the idea of entering a monastery. After all, it gave her pleasure, and the church considered sex and carnal pleasure one of the gravest sins. She heard all kinds of horrors from the same friends - pimples go down her face from masturbation, you can go crazy, or you can get pregnant. Exposing herself to this risk, Maria continued to give herself pleasure at least once a week, usually on Thursdays, when her father went to exchange cards with friends.

And at the same time, she felt less and less confident in relationships with men - and more and more she wanted to leave her hometown. She fell in love for the third, then for the fourth time, learned to kiss, and being alone with her boys, she began to allow a lot of them - and herself - already, but each time, as a result of some kind of her mistake, the romance ended at the very moment when Maria was finally convinced that here he was - the very only person with whom she would remain until the end of her days.

It took a long time before she came to this conclusion: men bring only suffering, anguish, disappointment and the feeling that the days are barely dragging on. One fine day, in the park, watching a young woman play with her two-year-old son, Maria decided this: she can dream of a husband, children and a house overlooking the sea, but she will never fall in love again, because passion is only spoils.

So passed her adolescence. She grew and became prettier, and her mysteriously sad appearance, which extremely attracted men, gave her a special charm. And she met with one, then with another, got carried away, indulged in dreams - and suffered, although she swore to herself that she would never fall in love with anyone again. During one of the dates, she lost her innocence: everything happened in the back seat of the car, she and her next boyfriend kissed and hugged with great fervor, and when the young man showed a fair amount of perseverance, Maria, all of whose friends had long since lost their virginity, gave in to him. Unlike masturbation, which lifted her to seventh heaven, real sex brought nothing but pain, and even annoyance about a skirt stained with blood - she barely managed to wash it off later. Nothing compared to the first kiss, to those magical moments - the herons were circling, the sun was setting, the music sounded in the distance ... no, she did not want to remember it anymore.

She slept with this young man several more times after she threatened him - she said that her father, as soon as he knew that she had been raped, and could kill her - and turned him into some kind of teaching aid, trying in every possible way to understand where the pleasure of sex with a partner lurks.

I tried but failed: masturbation gave me much more pleasure, and much less trouble. However, it was not in vain that magazines, TV programs, books, girlfriends, well, everything, DEFINITELY EVERYTHING, as if by agreement, unanimously told her that a man was needed. Maria even suspected that something was wrong with her in this area, concentrated even more on the lessons and for some time put this wonderful, this deadly phenomenon called Love out of her head.

An entry in Mary's diary, made when she was 17 years old:

My goal is to understand what love is. I know that when I loved, I felt that I was alive, but what is happening to me now may be interesting, but not inspiring.

But love is so terrible - I saw how my girlfriends suffered, and I do not want this to happen to me. And they used to make fun of me and my virginity, and now they ask how I manage to subdue men. I silently smile back, because I know that this medicine is worse than the disease itself: I'm just not in love. With each passing day, it becomes clearer to me how weak, changeable, unreliable men are, how easy it is to confuse them and take them by surprise ... and the fathers of some of my girlfriends have already rolled up to me, but I sent them off. Previously, I would have been indignant and indignant, but now I understand that such is she, male nature.

And although my goal is to understand what love is, and although I suffer because of those to whom I gave my heart, I see clearly that those who touch my soul cannot set fire to my flesh, and those who touch my flesh, powerless to comprehend my soul.

Maria was nineteen, she graduated from school, got a job as a saleswoman in a fabric store, where the owner fell in love with her - but by this time the girl already perfectly mastered the art of using men. She never once allowed him any liberties - she did not give him a hug or a squeeze - but she constantly teased him and inflamed him, knowing the power of her beauty.

And what is this - the "power of beauty"? And how do ugly women live in the world? Maria had several friends whom no one noticed at parties, whom no one asked: “How are you?” Unbelievable, but true - these ugly girls valued the crumbs of love that fell on them incomparably less, suffered silently when they were rejected, and tried to look to the future, finding something else besides the need to make up and dress up to please someone there. They were much more independent and lived in harmony with themselves, although, in the opinion of Mary, the world must have seemed completely unbearable to them.

Well, she was quite aware of how good she was. And although she usually forgot her mother's advice, at least one firmly stuck in her head: "Beauty, daughter, is not eternal." And so she continued to play cat and mouse with her master, not completely pushing him away, but not letting him get too close, so that these games brought her a significant increase in salary (she did not know how long she could keep him waiting for that day when he manages to get her into bed), and this is not counting overtime (after all, the owner is pleased when she is around, besides, he was afraid that she would leave the house some evening and meet great pure love ). She worked for twenty-four months in a row, gave money to her parents, and finally fulfilled her long-standing intention. Maria has saved enough to spend a week in the city of her long-cherished dream - Rio de Janeiro, the visiting card of the country, the place where celebrities and stars live!

The owner offered to go with her, promised to cover all the expenses, but Maria got out - she lied that her mother set her the only and indispensable condition: if she goes to one of the most dangerous places in the world, then she will certainly have to spend the night with her cousin masters of martial arts.

- And then, on whom will you leave the store? You don't have a person you can trust.

“Say “you” to me,” he said, and in his eyes Maria saw the flame of passion already familiar to her. It surprised her - it seemed to her that he only had sex on his mind. But his eyes said otherwise: "I can give you a house, and a family, and money for your parents." Well, she decided to throw more brushwood into the fire to make the fire flare up brighter.

And she said that she would be very bored without her beloved work and in separation from those to whom she managed to become so attached (she deliberately put it so vaguely: let him suffer, trying to guess whether he is among “those”), and promised that he would take every precaution so as not to lose either his wallet or his honor. But in fact, she just wanted no one - not a single person in the world! – did not spoil her first week of complete freedom. She will do whatever comes to her mind: swim in the ocean, talk to strangers, look at the windows of expensive shops and internally prepare for the fact that a handsome prince will appear and take her with him forever.

- And what is, after all, one week ?! she asked with a seductive smile. - It will fly by - and you will not notice. I'll be back soon and start my duties.

The inconsolable host argued a little more, and then gave up, because by this time, without saying anything to anyone, he had already firmly decided for himself: when Mary returned, he would offer her hand and heart. He did not want to look too stubborn in her eyes and ruin the whole thing.

Two days on the bus - and now Maria is already in a third-rate hotel on Copacabana (Oh Copacabana! Oh this sea! Oh this sky! ..). She didn’t even unpack her suitcases, but only pulled out the bikini she bought before leaving, put it on and, even though the sky was covered with clouds, she ran to the beach. She looked at the sea, felt fear, but, dying of shame, nevertheless entered the water.

On the beach, no one noticed that this girl first met with the ocean, with the queen of the waters Yemanzha, with sea currents, with the foam of the waves, and, therefore, with the African coast lying on the other side of the Atlantic with all its lions. When she got out of the water, three people immediately attacked her: some woman tried to sell her a sandwich “made from natural products”, a handsome black man suggested, if, of course, she was free today, to take a walk in the evening, and some other gentleman, not a word who did not speak Portuguese, motioned for her to drink coconut milk with him.

Maria bought a sandwich, embarrassed to say no, but did not keep up the conversation with the other two. Every minute her heart grew heavier: why, if she could do whatever she pleased, why did she behave so shamefully? There was no suitable explanation, and she, surprised at her own courage, and at the fact that it was already the middle of summer, and the water was cold, decided to sit down and wait until the sun peeked out from behind the clouds.

A gentleman who did not speak Portuguese immediately appeared nearby, holding a coconut, which he offered to her. Maria, rejoicing that there was no need to talk to him, accepted the offer, drank some milk and smiled, and he smiled back. Several minutes passed in such a pleasant and silent conversation - you give me a smile, I give you two, but then the foreigner took out a dictionary in a red cover from his bag and said with a terrible accent: "Beautiful." Maria smiled again: she, of course, is waiting for a meeting with a magical prince, but this prince should speak her language and be a little younger.

Leafing through the dictionary, the stranger showed persistence:

Pages: 168

Year of publication: 2003

Language:

Started reading: 848

Description:

According to the main character Maria, “pure sex” lasts exactly eleven minutes. During this time period of entertainment, pleasure and love pleasures, a man is ready to shell out decent money. The girl believes that the problem of civilization lies precisely in this, and not in the presence of scientific problems. Whether this is true or false, it will become clear after reading the novel.
In order to understand herself, the girl deliberately becomes a prostitute, considering it an ordinary job. Although she always dreamed of creating a family.
For 2 years of work in the store, nineteen-year-old Maria was able to raise enough funds for a week-long trip to Rio de Janeiro, not suspecting that this city would become life-changing for her. Here she meets Roger. Now she certainly will not miss her chance. An impresario from Switzerland drives Maria to despair and involuntarily forces her to find a way out of the situation.
Now she is no longer a dancer, but a fashion model. Dinner with a rich Arab opens up a new source of income for her, she takes risks again. For herself, Maria firmly decided not to fall in love!
Later, fate brings her to a special client of an entertainment establishment, Ralph. The famous artist earns well and has his own opinion regarding sex. After certain events, Maria worries: the artist can understand that she is an ordinary prostitute. Will her life change with the advent of Ralph? She is young and has her whole life ahead of her.

All this bunch of letters, I overcame three weeks. But I needed to read all this guano in my specialty.

The novel "11 Minutes" is an ordinary sleaze, sluggish, loose without structure and form.

The main character is stupid, and this is an understatement - her stupidity is almost a clinical case. Apparently, all the place in her head is occupied by her rich inner world - after all, she is out of love !!! And with this “rich inner world” of hers, she is, of course, a prostitute. Oh my God! Soul prostitute! The image invented in the 18th century by French "gallant" hacks, used in the tail and mane in the 19th century by everyone from Balzac to writers of obscene novels like E. Sue and Paul de Kock, the image that everyone already got from Dostoevsky pops up at the end of the twentieth and at least Coelho would at least come up with something of his own!

Coelho has no style. Rather, it is the style of blogs, live magazines - a jerky outpouring of "thoughts" in the most banal or fashionable set of ready-made words (which partly explains its popularity). This style is often found in school essays on a "free" topic.

It seems that everyone already knows that Coelho stole from everyone from Borges to Castaneda, but this is not even plagiarism, I have never seen such a miserable borrowing, as if a schoolboy is retelling Ulysses.

Compared to "eleven minutes," the entire Harry Potter cycle is written for world-wise professors of literature. Coelho is focused on a completely childish perception of literature - the personification of himself with the characters, the comparison of his thoughts and the author, empathy. But after all, there are no characters in the novel - they are just dolls without faces or any details at all, these doodles with "ideas". But since there are no details, it is even easier to impersonate yourself with them.

Generally cheap. Dull "erotica" with "show-offs" that someone else calls philosophy

Rating: 1

Last year, before going to the country, I downloaded the notorious Twilight cycle to my player. I don't know why, we all do stupid things sometimes. I noticed that under Bella's mournful thoughts, any work is done much faster. Maybe I wanted it to end as soon as possible?) It doesn't matter. The card played, and this year I decided to repeat the deal. By choosing this novel as a whip that drives the work.

I tried to get acquainted with the work of the “outstanding Brazilian” twice. And fail every time. The Book of the Warrior of Light was banal and boring. "Veronica decides to die" - vulgar and boring.

"Eleven Minutes" is a banal and vulgar novel. Well, boring, of course, too.

I understand that not everyone wants to unravel what is inherent, for example, in the story “Nobody Writes to the Colonel” by Marquez. And not everyone needs it. And here everything is already chewed, put in the mouth, in some places even overcooked. Eat for health! Example.

Turning on the player and pressing "play" I heard:

"Once upon a time there was a prostitute named Maria."

Yep, reference to the Bible. We expect enlightenment and other spiritual feats from our prostitute. This is philosophy for the poor! After that, I realized that I would work very quickly for this novel!

And I was not mistaken! But the trouble is, the same “Twilight”, for all its protractedness, tediousness, and so on, managed to carry a positive charge - you need to be faithful to your lover, fight for your feelings, lose innocence only after the wedding, after all! What is 11 minutes talking about? Need to go overseas, become a prostitute, chop cabbage and find a prince? brred. Philosophy? Well, no, thoughts like “he can satisfy me, but the rest can’t, so we are made for each other” and “he loves me, and I must leave him as soon as possible” - this is not philosophy. It's... it's... I don't even know how to say it without violating the rules of the site.

But the audience for "Twilight" and "Minutes" is the same. I speak from personal experience. I consider Coelho an adult prose with sex and philosophy, for one of my friends this book even “changed my outlook on life” (: facepalm:) I won’t judge anyone, it can be worse (“Dontsova is the great writer of All Russia”).

I can’t put Coelho above the top three, and I stop acquaintance with him at this point. Under "Stalker" and "Metro" it also works well, but at least there is no snot and pseudo-philosophy there.

Score: 3

It is believed that the target audience of Coelho is:

those who simply read few books;

those who have never heard of magical realism as a genre, or of Marquez, Borges, Cortazar and other pillars of this literary trend.

those who do not like it when "a lot of bukaf."

and, finally, those who are guided by the inviting 130 million, appearing on each of his, so to speak, book.

In a word, an amazing marketing project. Magic realism, philosophy and a textbook of life for blondes.

Score: 2

An example of how the popularity of the author has become self-sufficient. I and people I know bought and read this book only because of the hype around this author. We came to the conclusion that the book is bad, but added popularity, if we calculate it in the number of books sold.

Some kind of "insensitive" description of the path of a prostitute is strongly demarcated by the author's esoteric reasoning about love, loneliness, pain. Everything would be fine, but it seemed to me that it was just a pile of beautiful proposals. Obvious in essence and meaningless in the text. At first I tried to somehow analyze and systematize - in vain. Just, as my parent would say, a set of letters.

It's like watching an uninteresting sporting event (for example, I don't like football, but sometimes I watch it with fans), which is commented on by a mediocre announcer. Something like: “Do you remember in such and such a year ... (historical digression). ... And here is the scoring chance. Oh, no, the goalkeeper saved. Well, where did I stop, oh yes, in 1919 such and such a year ... ”The same is true in this lit. labor.

Particularly pleased with the reasoning about the discovery of the clitoris. When a prostitute realizes that not only does she not get an orgasm from frictions, but only clitoral massage helps.

Or such lines: "... she is already expiring, but he has not yet gained the proper hardness, but maybe a man needs more time to get excited, WHO KNOWS THEM ..." - and this is what an experienced prostitute says.

And so the whole book is written, naive and stupid, but with a serious face. You can talk about the mediocrity of the opus for a long time. But the target audience of the book is interesting - I suppose this book is good for very little reading citizens who will read the book as a tribute to fashion (these citizens can read other books of the author) or who read a lot for the sake of curiosity (in order to broaden their horizons).

And finally, about the bed scenes: as such, they are not here, except for the mention of a penis and a clitoris in a dictionary stream.

Very rarely come across books that do not like so sharply and about which one wants to say: SHIT.

Score: 2

Once upon a time there was a girl Maria in the outback, who quite early discovered the ability of her body to receive physical pleasure. So, having received some kind of education, she sets off to conquer Europe, and to conquer both beauty and intelligence. And everything went smoothly for her, as it should be for an elite whore, and she decided to stay with her beloved man. End.

A touching tale, which, like any fairy tale, is much easier to take on faith, without turning on the brains, without thinking, without asking questions, which in this situation will not be superfluous at all.

Because it does not happen in life that a native of a poor village in a week easily mastered French, so much so that she learned to speak without hesitation. There are no pseudo-philosophical thoughts in such a charming head, which, of course, belong to the author - Coelho just forgot that he is not writing a blog, and not a personal diary, but a work of art. With whom it does not happen, in the end, we are all people with our mistakes, shortcomings, defects, problems; that is why we are alive and Marie is not. Also, we don't use swear words.

This is not a quibble, gentlemen. It is a fact. In the age of "soap operas" and easy life, works are the same - light and magical, like science fiction.

It's fantastic that they are for sale.

Score: 2

In my opinion, such a dull little book that the tongue does not turn even to scold her. Obviously a miserable plot, the main character, who evokes absolutely no feelings, some ridiculous attempts at philosophizing ... After reading, there was only one thought: "Thank the gods, it's over."

Rating: 1

“At that moment, Maria realized that something can be lost forever.”

When I finished reading this book, I realized that I forever and irretrievably lost the time spent on this work. Did you know that sex and love exist and are interconnected? Not? Then this piece is for you! Have you thought about the topic: prostitution is the search for love? Then have a nice meeting with the book! And how do you like Julia Roberts as a beauty? Isn't it true life story? Vital? Then Coelho is probably your author. And for me it’s like this ... Timing - this is, apparently, the value and novelty of this opus! Didn't find anything else of interest.

I bow and move away from the shelves with books of the great pseudo-philosopher (or quasi-philosopher, it's how you look) forever!

Score: 3

Before us is a modern version of the fairy tale about Cinderella, only instead of Cinderella - a whore, instead of a fairy - a mistress of a brothel, instead of a dress - a condom, instead of a prince - a rich client, and instead of a wedding, a multiple orgasm. But it doesn't matter, because all we need is only love (s).

Score: 4

From reading this book, the feeling left that a person does not know how, but wants to draw, and therefore invents a new genre of semi-abstraction, where neither the similarity of heroes with people, nor composition, nor color is required - and proudly presents his creation as a masterpiece.

Score: 2

Heard a lot of negative reviews on Coelho. I think I have no right to form my own opinion on this matter, since I have read only one of his books. And this one is Eleven Minutes.

I read for a long time. But when I did it, I really liked it. It’s kind of dumb to admit sympathy for Coelho’s books, but I understand that denying the fact that you liked the book just because of public opinion is somewhat stupid. And cowardly, perhaps) Therefore, I tell the truth)

Not the kind of book that you re-read, but you can read it once for general development. Yes, philosophy is banal and chewed, but, one way or another, it is present in one form or another.

The main character of the novel is the prostitute Maria. Throughout the story, she reflects on her life and the role sex plays in it. She herself chose this path in order to understand her feminine nature. She has a goal, but in order to achieve it, she must pass vital tests and understand what love is and what pain is.

What the author wanted to say

It is clear that this book is not for every reader. Some people don't understand why Paulo Coelho devoted a whole story to a prostitute at all.

In fact, the work reveals the theme of love and sex, which are inseparable, and also lifts the veil of the mystery of female and male nature.

The writer tells about the life of a prostitute. He begins his story with the words: “Once upon a time there was a prostitute named Maria. Like all prostitutes, she was born pure and immaculate…”. With these words, he wants to tell the reader that absolutely all people are born equal. Every person, including the main character, dreams of a happy future.

Maria dreams of a beautiful home, she wants to see the ocean and find a loving husband. Her dreams are no different from those that lurk in the heads of the rest of her age. She, like everyone else, meets her first love and then loses it.

One day, Mary is offered to become a dancer. She is from her hometown hoping to achieve something in life. It turns out that it is not always so easy. Over time, she realizes that the offer was not at all profitable, and leaves this job.

Maria is left without money. She agrees to sleep with a man for a lot of money, just not to go to her parents' house, having achieved nothing. Feeling the taste of easy money, Maria becomes a prostitute. She could choose any other way to earn money, but her goal is not only to earn. She wants to understand her essence, to know men. She deliberately creates a test for herself, specifically goes to bed with a sadomasochist in order to experience physical pain.

11 minutes - this is how long the average sexual intercourse lasts, according to Maria's observations. Now she understands sex like no other, she knows what men want. At this stage of life, she meets her love, because she is still destined to turn her dreams into reality.

After reading “11 Minutes”, it is no longer possible to treat prostitutes so negatively, since each of them has their own story and their own life goals, to which they follow a non-standard path.

Over the past twenty years, the novel by Paolo Coelho "The Alchemist" has become one of the most popular works. The author of this book told readers a story about the necessary search for happiness, which left an unforgettable impression on the writer's fans around the world. For the first time this work saw the light in 1988, after which it was successfully reprinted many more times.

The protagonist of the novel "The Alchemist" - Santiago

At the center of the events of the story is the shepherd Santiago, passionately dreaming of finding a treasure of unimaginable value. The path destined for him in life promises many new discoveries. Of these, the most important is self-knowledge. Santiago learns to listen to himself, to his desires, thoughts, but most importantly, he learns to listen to his heart. One day he realizes that his dream is only for him - it is an integral part of the Universal Soul.

Santiago was an ordinary shepherd whose desires were very modest. After all, all he needed in life was free will for him, a small amount of wine and an interesting book that he could have in his. However, fate destined him a different path in the form of wanderings in search of treasures that are hidden in the foundation.

When the shepherd meets the wise ruler Melchizedek, who pushed him to more decisive actions, he goes in search. The very next day, he sold his sheep, and then leaves his native land, following his cherished dream. The main character goes to Africa.

Upon arrival in this country, Santiago comes to the realization that his path in life will not be as easy as he imagined before. On the very first day he was robbed, and, finding himself completely alone, the young man could not even turn to anyone, because he did not know Arabic.

After the events that took place, the main character was completely at a loss. He was already ready to go back, almost giving up on his dream. But suddenly he remembered a conversation with the wise Melchizedek, who met him in his homeland, and his doubts gradually began to dissipate. After taking a job in a trading shop, Santiago earns enough money to purchase a new herd of sheep. He begins to think about returning home, but at the last moment he decides to risk everything he has earned and go in search of the desired treasure.

In the desert, the shepherd meets a pilgrim of English origin, who told him about hidden secrets and about an alchemist known in these places. New acquaintances spend a lot of time together talking about the spiritual, but they soon learn about the upcoming tribal war.

Further extraordinary adventures of the protagonist turn into a truly real test for him, and not only spiritual. An incomprehensible magical movement that saved the life of him and the alchemist, once again proves the existence of the Universal Soul, capable of doing great things.

Why should you read The Alchemist?

At the end of the book, you can find a large number of unexpected discoveries that can turn your whole idea of the universe upside down. The novel by Paulo Coelho "The Alchemist" is able to awaken readers to thoughts that, probably, in ordinary life could not attract special attention.

It should also be noted that this book is nothing more than a guide to the realization of one's own desires. In other words, the adventures of Santiago are a kind of guide that does not allow a person to give up prematurely and fade away before reaching his innermost goal, his dream. The Alchemist is a book that inspires and makes you remember that there are wings after all.

In times of instability in the world and society, life is not easy for people. Often the joys of the present are overlooked because of worries about the future. You can become happier if you learn to live for today.

Instruction

Remember the old wisdom that people only have power over today afternoon. The future is being shaped in the present moment, and the past cannot be changed. Constant worry is not capable of doing anything constructive, so it makes no sense to endlessly build options for the development of events. Wean yourself from replaying negative situations in your mind. Of course, it will not be possible to radically forbid yourself this once and for all. Therefore, set aside certain time for yourself specifically for this, for example, during training (instead of music in the player) or in the evening - devote one hour to planning, during which you will think about the bad. Time is up - get busy today. And no concessions to yourself.

Train yourself to enjoy the little things in the morning. A pleasant shower, a delicious breakfast, hot coffee according to a special recipe, a cheerful voice of the presenter on your favorite radio - all this should be part of a special ritual to start the day. It distracts from thoughts and allows you to feel here and now, enjoy every minute. When you wash the dishes, rejoice at how it becomes clean again, and do not wander in the labyrinths of your mind (and the dishes will be safer). In every single minute, try to do everything as efficiently as possible. And then in the end you don't have to worry about the results. Just because every minute of yours was work for success.

Remember that tomorrow there may not be an opportunity to do something. So act today, create and get down to work right now. Make like one of the famous people, put a sign on your desktop with the inscription "today". After all, this is the most important day in your life, because it can be changed, it is clearly visible and we predict much better than a vague tomorrow. Everything is changing so dramatically that you should seriously count on just today.

Paulo Coelho

eleven minutes

dedication

For I am the first and I am the last

I am honored and despised

I am a harlot and a saint

I am a wife and a virgin

I am mother and daughter

I am my mother's hands

I am barren, but my children are countless

I am happily married and single

I am the one who brings into being

and the one who will never give offspring

I relieve birth pains

I am husband and wife

And I gave birth to my husband

I am my father's mother

I am my husband's sister

worship me forever

For I am evil and generous.

Hymn to Isis discovered at Nag Hammadi, 3rd or 4th century (?) BC e.

And so, a woman of that city, who was a sinner, having learned that He was reclining in the house of the Pharisee, brought an alabaster vessel with myrrh;

And, standing behind at His feet and weeping, she began to pour her tears over His feet and wipe her head with her hair, and kissed His feet, and smeared with myrrh.

Seeing this, the Pharisee who invited Him said in himself: if He were a prophet, he would know who and what woman touches Him, for she is a sinner.

Turning to him, Jesus said: Simon! I have something to tell you. He says: Tell me, Master.

Jesus said: One creditor had two debtors: one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty;

But as they had nothing to pay, he forgave them both. Tell me, which of them will love him more?

Simon answered: I think the one to whom he forgave more. He said to him: You have judged correctly.

And turning to the woman, he said to Simon, Do you see this woman? I came to your house, and you did not give me water for my feet; but she poured her tears over my feet and wiped them with the hair of her head.

You didn't give me a kiss; and since I came, she has not ceased kissing my feet.

Therefore, I say to you: her many sins are forgiven because she loved much; but to whom little is forgiven, he loves little.

Gospel of Luke 7:37–47

Once upon a time there was a prostitute named Maria.

And so it happened.

But she did not have time to write a letter - her mother entered the room, saw blood stains on the sheet, smiled and said:

“You have grown up, my daughter.

“It’s early for you, daughter.

“But at the age of sixteen you were already married to my father.

But he suddenly stopped.

- You don't want to?

Life is very swift: in an instant we fall from heaven into the very underworld.

“So you didn’t open your mouth, did you?”

And in an instant everything became clear to Mary - both the boy's question and his sudden annoyance.

- What for?

“Otherwise, you won’t stick your tongue out.”

- What's the difference?

“I can't explain to you. It's just that when they kiss, they do it.

An entry in Mary's diary, made when she was 17 years old:

My goal is to understand what love is. I know that when I loved, I felt that I was alive, but what is happening to me now may be interesting, but not inspiring.

- And then, on whom will you leave the store? You don't have a person you can trust.