By Paulina Porizkova
An incisive, superbly written first novel via a former stick insect that explores the glamorous and gritty international she inhabitedOnly a handful of ladies on the earth have skilled what Paulina Porizkova has -- being whisked away to version in Paris whereas nonetheless undefined, attaining the top of the occupation earlier than her schoolmates had even graduated -- and less nonetheless have the perception to seize it on paper.In her first novel, Paulina tells the tale of Jirina. A tall, scrawny fifteen-year-old woman from Sweden, she's even more conversant in name callings and disdain than admiration and affection, even if from her classmates or her circle of relatives. that every one alterations while her in simple terms good friend, Hatty, asks to perform her make-up and images talents on Jirina. nearly earlier than she understands it Jirina is on a airplane to Paris, the place she is going to spend the summer season in a milieu solely alien to her. residing on the domestic of her modeling agency's proprietor and always subjected to blunt actual checks, catty and infrequently merciless fellow versions, and womanizing photographers -- and, miraculously adequate, whereas occasionally feeling really appealing -- Jirina embarks on a trip past her wildest imaginings. among picture shoots in Italy and Morocco and events with versions and musicians, Jirina manages to make a number of buddies, fall in love, and, finally, believe the very grownup discomfort of betrayal and heartbreak.Told with the grace, simplicity, and accuracy that may in basic terms come from real-life adventure, A version summer time is either the debut of a particularly proficient novelist and an strangely well-informed glance backstage at a global many folks fantasize approximately, yet few relatively comprehend.
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Oh, what the hell, they don’t understand,” Britta says. As if to confirm, Jean-Pierre calmly pours her yet another glass, without remarking on our exchange. She drinks it up and ends with a slight burp. ” She bursts into giggles again and playfully slaps Jean-Pierre on the chest. ” Marina parks her cigarette in the noodle spiral on her plate and stands up. I have a sudden vision of her walking around the table to punch them. But she turns away and heads for a drawer by the stove and emerges with a chocolate bar, which she nibbles between puffs of her cigarette, while keeping a cold eye on Jean-Pierre’s arm across Britta’s shoulder.
Yee-ree-nah,” I say and hope she won’t take offense that I’m correcting her. But they don’t appear to have heard me anyway. “Quel nom,” the man snorts. ” I understand my name has been judged a disaster. They finally narrow their gazes at me, under which I melt into a puddle of self-consciousness. ” the man asks. The woman shrugs. “Fif—sixteen,” I volunteer. The woman shakes her head. ” She hands the book back without looking at me. I have the unnerving impression I don’t exist but on the printed page.
My next appointment in Les Halles is diagonally across the city, according to my Plan de Paris subway map. ” As far as I can tell, it means she will remove something next week. Why, and what I’m supposed to buy, remains unanswered. The train arrives at my stop and the first thing that hits me is a god-awful smell when the train doors open. Les Halles appears to have a sewage problem, because the dank air smells strongly of rotten eggs. I look around me, but no one else seems to mind or to notice, so I breathe through my mouth as I climb a steep staircase into the street.