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Care of Wooden Floors epub download

by Will Wiles


The hall was light and airy, with pale wooden floors and icy white walls.

The hall was light and airy, with pale wooden floors and icy white walls. Two dark wooden doors were set into the wall to the right, like dominos on a bedspread, one halfway down, and the other near the far end. To the left was evidence of a refurbishment under Oskar’s direction: a long glass partition screening a large kitchen and dining area from the hallway. At its end, the hall opened out into the living area, which was demarcated by a single step down.

Care of Wooden Floors book. See a Problem? We’d love your help. A bold and brilliant debut from a darkly funny new voice  .

Читать бесплатно текст книги Care of Wooden Floors автора Will Wiles . Care of Wooden Floors. скачать книгу бесплатно. The east wall was one large bookcase, mostly filled with books but also seasoned with some objets. The kitchen was all aluminium and steel.

Care of Wooden Floors. Will Wiles Care of Wooden Floors. Everything must have been imported, I thought, considering the home-grown stuff I had seen at the airport.

Wiles is able to sustain the extreme dramatic tension through Anonymous’s interior monologue with its edge.

by. Will Wiles (Author). Find all the books, read about the author, and more. Are you an author? Learn about Author Central. Wiles is able to sustain the extreme dramatic tension through Anonymous’s interior monologue with its edge. Never once do we think this is going to end well; we keep turning pages to learn just how badly. But complementing Anonymous’ maudlin, existential narrative is one of the keenest senses of satire I’ve read. As keen as the master Jonathan Swift, but utterly contemporary.

There had been a noise in the flat, loud enough to rouse me, but it had no characteristics in my mind, having occurred in the wastes at the edge of sleep. What had happened? And now there were more noises – shuffling footsteps in the hall outside, a thump with a rattle of bottles.

A British copywriter house-sits at his composer friend Oskar’s ultra-modern apartment in a glum Eastern European city.

The dark, doomy humour of Care of Wooden Floors mixed with the fantastical, anarchic sense of possibility of The Way Inn, brought together in a fast moving story set in contemporary London. Jack Bick is an interview journalist at a glossy lifestyle magazine. A British copywriter house-sits at his composer friend Oskar’s ultra-modern apartment in a glum Eastern European city. The instructions are simple: Feed the cats, don’t touch the piano, and make sure nothing damages the priceless wooden floors.

Care of Wooden Floors is about how a tiny oversight can trip off a disastrous and farcical (fatal, even) chain of consequences. It's about a friendship between two men who don't know each other very well. It's about alienation and being alone in a foreign city

Care of Wooden Floors is about how a tiny oversight can trip off a disastrous and farcical (fatal, even) chain of consequences. It's about alienation and being alone in a foreign city. It's about the quest for perfection and the struggle against entropy. And it is, a little, about how to take care of wooden floors. Oskar is a Mittel-European minimalist composer best known for a piece called "Variations on Tram Timetables.

A bold and brilliant debut from a darkly funny new voice. Oskar is a minimalist composer best known for a piece called Variations on Tram Timetables. He is married to a Californian art dealer named Laura and he lives with two cats, named after Russian composers, in an Eastern European city. But this book isn't really about Oskar. Oskar is in Los Angeles, having his marriage dismantled by lawyers. He has entrusted an old university friend with the task of looking after his cats, and taking care of his perfect, beautiful apartment. Despite the fact that Oskar has left dozens of surreally detailed notes covering every aspect of looking after the flat, things do not go well. Care of Wooden Floors is about how a tiny oversight can trip off a disastrous and farcical (fatal, even) chain of consequences. It's about a friendship between two men who don't know each other very well. It's about alienation and being alone in a foreign city. It's about the quest for perfection and the struggle against entropy. And it is, a little, about how to take care of wooden floors.

Care of Wooden Floors epub download

ISBN13: 978-0007424436

ISBN: 0007424434

Author: Will Wiles

Category: Literature and Fiction

Subcategory: Contemporary

Language: English

Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers; First Edition edition (February 1, 2012)

Pages: 304 pages

ePUB size: 1925 kb

FB2 size: 1642 kb

Rating: 4.8

Votes: 466

Other Formats: lrf azw mobi doc

Related to Care of Wooden Floors ePub books

Cobyno
Disclaimer: You should not read this book if you have any particular sensitivities about felines succumbing to gruesome household accidents.

This was a strange novel--unlike any other I've read. An unnamed narrator shows up in an unnamed post-communist country to housesit for a friend named Oskar. Before he left town, Oskar hid obsessively-detailed notes concerning the maintenance of his apartment and especially, the care of the exotic wooden floors. (Oskar never appears in person, but his character dominates the story.) Oskar's concealed instructions are amusing and it is instantly, painfully obvious that no one could properly maintain Oskar's apartment. The casual, sloppy and somewhat oafish narrator doesn't stand a chance.

The book itself is well-written, and the story is curiously dark and farcical at the same time. The narrator's stream-of-consciousness can only be described an understated and I laughed out loud more than once. My only complaint is that the novel seemed a little too long. A handful of excessively-described, over-the-top incidents made the story drag in a few places. But even the parts that were unnecessary were sprinkled with funny and witty asides. Example: While walking into a strip club, the narrator observes "Under the spotlight was a stage, on the stage was a pole, and on the pole was a girl. On the girl was very little . . . I marveled at the male body's ability to feel disgust and desire in equal measure and its pulsing tempo of shame and shamelessness. A sexual guidance computer was competing with me for sovereignty over my inner controls." The stream-of-consciousness style teetered on tiresome, but was overcome by a story that is entertaining and insightful and darkly funny. This one deserves three-and-a-half stars.
Cobyno
Disclaimer: You should not read this book if you have any particular sensitivities about felines succumbing to gruesome household accidents.

This was a strange novel--unlike any other I've read. An unnamed narrator shows up in an unnamed post-communist country to housesit for a friend named Oskar. Before he left town, Oskar hid obsessively-detailed notes concerning the maintenance of his apartment and especially, the care of the exotic wooden floors. (Oskar never appears in person, but his character dominates the story.) Oskar's concealed instructions are amusing and it is instantly, painfully obvious that no one could properly maintain Oskar's apartment. The casual, sloppy and somewhat oafish narrator doesn't stand a chance.

The book itself is well-written, and the story is curiously dark and farcical at the same time. The narrator's stream-of-consciousness can only be described an understated and I laughed out loud more than once. My only complaint is that the novel seemed a little too long. A handful of excessively-described, over-the-top incidents made the story drag in a few places. But even the parts that were unnecessary were sprinkled with funny and witty asides. Example: While walking into a strip club, the narrator observes "Under the spotlight was a stage, on the stage was a pole, and on the pole was a girl. On the girl was very little . . . I marveled at the male body's ability to feel disgust and desire in equal measure and its pulsing tempo of shame and shamelessness. A sexual guidance computer was competing with me for sovereignty over my inner controls." The stream-of-consciousness style teetered on tiresome, but was overcome by a story that is entertaining and insightful and darkly funny. This one deserves three-and-a-half stars.
Chinon
I just spent a month in a rented maison in rural France, completing revisions to my forthcoming novel. And although I hadn’t quite planned to read “Care of Wooden Floors” by Will Wiles while there, I was struck by the similarities between his anonymous first-person character and my own situation.

Anonymous, a London copywriter, is asked by his perfectionist friend to house-sit in his perfect condo apartment in an unnamed European city for an unspecified length of time – perhaps a month. Oskar, classical music composer, orchestra conductor and the owner, has left notes all over the flat with instructions and admonitions, chief among them not to spill anything on the French oak floors.

My landlord left a few notes, but wasn’t anywhere near as anal-compulsive as Oskar. But the stairs in my charming 150-year-old maison were indeed French oak, like Oskar’s, and every time I trod them, for weeks, I recalled Wiles’ novel.

Anonymous spills wine of the French oak floor the very first night he’s there, and things go rapidly downhill day after day. I felt myself spiraling down with him through the levels of Dante’s hell, alternately amused, distraught, horrified, and always wondering how he could allow one dire event after another, each worse, to befall him.

But as I read and speculated, I detected one common occurrence: the bad stuff always happened during, or after, Anonymous had consumed large quantities of alcohol. I began to wonder if Wiles had written a morality tale: Here is a man who has agreed to the condo-sitting with the best intentions – to devote his time to concentrated and focused writing [as I was doing on my own self-styled sabbatical] – but who can’t seem to get out of his cups. Was he a heavy drinker before he arrived? It doesn’t seem so. Could he not see where that bottle of wine was leading him? Again, it doesn’t seem so. He’s a lost soul, and remains so.

This first novel was, for me, an impressive tour de force. Wiles is able to sustain the extreme dramatic tension through Anonymous’s interior monologue with its obsessive-compulsive edge. Never once do we think this is going to end well; we keep turning pages to learn just how badly. But complementing Anonymous’ maudlin, existential narrative is one of the keenest senses of satire I’ve read. As keen as the master Jonathan Swift, but utterly contemporary. In some ways I was reminded of the narcissistic, dysfunctional husband-and-wife narrators in Gillian Flynn’s “Gone Girl.”

Favorites quotes from “Care of Wooden Floors:”

“The path was deserted in both directions and the few windows that watched over this site were empty, industrial, large grids of glass with random panes smashed out like moves in a game of dereliction.”

Or this: when Oskar demands Anonymous attend a classical music concert, music which Anonymous normally finds intolerable, he says, “All classical music is recognizable in an oh-isn’t-this-the-tune-from-the-Kenco-advert way….”

Anonymous seems to drift into a best-of-all-worlds, life-is-but-a-dream soliloquy as he leaves to catch his plane back to London. He has left without writing a word during his stay, seemingly incapable of looking back with any emotion or reflection at all. Fortunately for me, our similar journeys diverged: I finished my revision. In fact, my entire month-long stay ended on a much more positive note than his, for which I’m sure my landlord will be grateful.
Chinon
I just spent a month in a rented maison in rural France, completing revisions to my forthcoming novel. And although I hadn’t quite planned to read “Care of Wooden Floors” by Will Wiles while there, I was struck by the similarities between his anonymous first-person character and my own situation.

Anonymous, a London copywriter, is asked by his perfectionist friend to house-sit in his perfect condo apartment in an unnamed European city for an unspecified length of time – perhaps a month. Oskar, classical music composer, orchestra conductor and the owner, has left notes all over the flat with instructions and admonitions, chief among them not to spill anything on the French oak floors.

My landlord left a few notes, but wasn’t anywhere near as anal-compulsive as Oskar. But the stairs in my charming 150-year-old maison were indeed French oak, like Oskar’s, and every time I trod them, for weeks, I recalled Wiles’ novel.

Anonymous spills wine of the French oak floor the very first night he’s there, and things go rapidly downhill day after day. I felt myself spiraling down with him through the levels of Dante’s hell, alternately amused, distraught, horrified, and always wondering how he could allow one dire event after another, each worse, to befall him.

But as I read and speculated, I detected one common occurrence: the bad stuff always happened during, or after, Anonymous had consumed large quantities of alcohol. I began to wonder if Wiles had written a morality tale: Here is a man who has agreed to the condo-sitting with the best intentions – to devote his time to concentrated and focused writing [as I was doing on my own self-styled sabbatical] – but who can’t seem to get out of his cups. Was he a heavy drinker before he arrived? It doesn’t seem so. Could he not see where that bottle of wine was leading him? Again, it doesn’t seem so. He’s a lost soul, and remains so.

This first novel was, for me, an impressive tour de force. Wiles is able to sustain the extreme dramatic tension through Anonymous’s interior monologue with its obsessive-compulsive edge. Never once do we think this is going to end well; we keep turning pages to learn just how badly. But complementing Anonymous’ maudlin, existential narrative is one of the keenest senses of satire I’ve read. As keen as the master Jonathan Swift, but utterly contemporary. In some ways I was reminded of the narcissistic, dysfunctional husband-and-wife narrators in Gillian Flynn’s “Gone Girl.”

Favorites quotes from “Care of Wooden Floors:”

“The path was deserted in both directions and the few windows that watched over this site were empty, industrial, large grids of glass with random panes smashed out like moves in a game of dereliction.”

Or this: when Oskar demands Anonymous attend a classical music concert, music which Anonymous normally finds intolerable, he says, “All classical music is recognizable in an oh-isn’t-this-the-tune-from-the-Kenco-advert way….”

Anonymous seems to drift into a best-of-all-worlds, life-is-but-a-dream soliloquy as he leaves to catch his plane back to London. He has left without writing a word during his stay, seemingly incapable of looking back with any emotion or reflection at all. Fortunately for me, our similar journeys diverged: I finished my revision. In fact, my entire month-long stay ended on a much more positive note than his, for which I’m sure my landlord will be grateful.
It's so easy
I read through the synopsis of this book and I thought the book sounded intriguing. After reading the book, I was not wrong. The book is about the narrator, a writer of little note, who travels from London to an unspecified Eastern European country to stay at his friend's (and former college roommate's) apartment.

What you find upon reading the opening chapter is the owner, Oskar, is a meticulous neat freak who frets about all in his beautifully arranged apartment with his two cats and an increasingly difficult and insolent cleaning lady. Of course, we find this 'innocent man' the narrator of the story, suffer through increasing problems. And the narrator's problems are the readers laughs; I laughed out loud numerous times at the absurdity of the situations in this book. The book is certainly Hitchcockian (sure, this is a word) in the sense if you could find dark humor in the movie Psycho, as I did when I saw the Hitchcock classic. And this book has the same feeling to it with a twist of an I Love Lucy episode gone wrong (think of the classic candy factory episode where the absurdity gets more laughs).

The denouement is VERY funny. Although I loved the book, I did think the end brought too quick of a resolution since I wanted to know more about these characters . On the other hand, I blew through the 300 pages of this book very quickly, so I must have liked it. Good show, and too bad old Alfred isn't around anymore, because this book would certainly be either a movie with Cary Grant or a TV episode with the famous silhouette at the beginning.
It's so easy
I read through the synopsis of this book and I thought the book sounded intriguing. After reading the book, I was not wrong. The book is about the narrator, a writer of little note, who travels from London to an unspecified Eastern European country to stay at his friend's (and former college roommate's) apartment.

What you find upon reading the opening chapter is the owner, Oskar, is a meticulous neat freak who frets about all in his beautifully arranged apartment with his two cats and an increasingly difficult and insolent cleaning lady. Of course, we find this 'innocent man' the narrator of the story, suffer through increasing problems. And the narrator's problems are the readers laughs; I laughed out loud numerous times at the absurdity of the situations in this book. The book is certainly Hitchcockian (sure, this is a word) in the sense if you could find dark humor in the movie Psycho, as I did when I saw the Hitchcock classic. And this book has the same feeling to it with a twist of an I Love Lucy episode gone wrong (think of the classic candy factory episode where the absurdity gets more laughs).

The denouement is VERY funny. Although I loved the book, I did think the end brought too quick of a resolution since I wanted to know more about these characters . On the other hand, I blew through the 300 pages of this book very quickly, so I must have liked it. Good show, and too bad old Alfred isn't around anymore, because this book would certainly be either a movie with Cary Grant or a TV episode with the famous silhouette at the beginning.