Arc de Triomphe remark pdf. "Arc de Triomphe" Erich Maria Remarque. About the book “Arc de Triomphe” by Erich Maria Remarque

Novel by Erich Maria Remarque " Triumphal Arch» is known all over the world. The writer manages to incredibly realistically describe war, love, and the experiences of the characters and touch the hearts of readers. The book was written in the mid-20th century and is included in the list best books, required reading.

The writer takes us to pre-war times. Main character- German, surgeon Ravik. He helped his friends, survived torture and the death of his beloved woman. He managed to escape to France, where he lives without documents, constantly fearing being caught. Ravik lives in a hotel for refugees, but despite his hard life, he helps people. In secret from the law, he performs operations on people and replaces French surgeons. He surprises with his talent and efficiency.

In France he meets Joan. She Italian actress, which also has its own story. Ravic and Joan are very different, but they want to be together. The couple constantly quarrels and makes up, they are looking for ways to mutual understanding. Their relationship is depicted frankly, without being too fairytale-like, but these people inspire each other, forcing each other to change. Ravik wants to take revenge on the person who tortured him; in his soul there is a place not only for love, but also for hatred.

This book will leave a strong impression, you will remember it later for a long time after reading. You can't call her sweet fairy tale, here depicts the reality of life, the present, with its pain and truth. The writer manages to clearly convey the feelings of the characters, love and suffering, the atmosphere of the pre-war time, when fear seemed to be in the air. Using examples from the lives of heroes, the writer says that the pain does not go away completely even after time. It may subside a little, but if you disturb the old wounds, then everything will return again. And yet, you need to continue to live and do something, you need to not give up and help other people.

On our website you can download the book "The Arc de Triomphe" by Erich Maria Remarque for free and without registration in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format, read the book online or buy the book in the online store.

Erich Maria Remarque

Triumphal Arch

A woman appeared from somewhere to the side and walked straight towards Ravich. She walked quickly, but with an uncertain, shaky step. Ravich noticed her when she was almost level with him. Pale face, high cheekbones, wide-eyed eyes. A frozen, upturned face-mask, and in the eyes, like the dim reflection of a lantern, an expression of such glassy emptiness flashed that Ravich involuntarily became wary.

The woman passed very close, almost hitting Ravich. He sharply extended his hand and grabbed the stranger by the elbow. She staggered and would have inevitably fallen if he had not supported her. But he held on tight.

-Where are you going? – he asked, hesitating a little.

The woman looked at him point blank.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

Ravich did not answer. And he continued to hold the stranger tightly.

- Let me go! What does it mean? “She barely moved her lips.

It seemed to Ravich that she did not see him at all. The woman looked somewhere past and through him, her eyes fixed on the impenetrable darkness of the night. He was just an obstacle in her way, and that was exactly how she addressed him.

- Let me in!

He immediately determined: no, not a whore. And not drunk. He loosened his grip slightly. Now the woman could easily free herself if she wanted, but she didn’t even notice it. Ravich was still waiting.

- No, no joke, where are you going in the middle of the night, alone, at this time, in Paris? – he repeated his question as calmly as possible, finally releasing her hand.

The stranger was silent. But she didn’t leave either. It seemed that now that she was stopped, she was no longer able to take a single step.

Ravich leaned against the parapet of the bridge, feeling the damp, porous stone under his palms.

- Isn’t that right? “He nodded behind him, where, glistening with viscous lead, the unstoppable Seine was squeezing lazily and heavily under the shadow of the Alm Bridge.

The woman did not answer.

“It’s still too early,” said Ravich. - It’s a little early, and it’s cold. November after all.

He took out cigarettes and rummaged in his pocket, feeling for matches. Finally he found it, realized by touch that there were only two matches left in the cardboard box, and he habitually hunched over, covering the flame in his palms - there was a light breeze from the river.

“Give me a cigarette too,” the stranger said in an even, expressionless voice.

Ravich raised his head, then showed her the pack.

- Algerian. Black tobacco. Smoke of the Foreign Legion. They'll probably be a little too strong for you. I don't have any others.

The woman shook her head and took a cigarette. Ravich handed her a burning match. She smoked greedily, taking deep puffs. Ravich threw the match over the parapet. The match cut through the darkness like a bright shooting star and, touching the water, went out.

A taxi crawled across the bridge at low speed. The driver slowed down. He looked at them, waited a little, then sharply accelerated and drove on along the wet, shiny, black pavement of George the Fifth Avenue.

Ravich suddenly felt that he was tired to death. I worked like hell all day, and then I couldn’t sleep. That’s why I went out – I wanted something to drink. But now, in the chilly darkness of the night, fatigue suddenly came upon him - as if a bag had been thrown over his head.

He looked at the stranger. Why the hell did he stop her? Clearly, something happened to her. But what does it matter to him? He never saw many women with whom something had happened, and even more so in the middle of the night in Paris, and now he didn’t care about all this, he only wanted one thing - to sleep for a couple of hours.

“You should go home,” he said. - At a time like this - what did you lose on the street? You won't find anything good here except trouble.

And he raised his collar, firmly intending to leave.

The woman looked at him with an uncomprehending look.

- Home? – she asked again.

Ravich shrugged:

- Well, yes, home, to your apartment or to a hotel, wherever. You don't want to spend the night at the police station, do you?

- To the hotel! Oh my God! – the woman muttered.

Ravich turned around. Another restless soul with nowhere to go, he thought. It's time to get used to it. Always the same. At night they don’t know where to go, and the next morning, before you can open your eyes, there’s already no trace of them. In the morning, they know perfectly well where they need to go and what’s what. Old as the world, ordinary night despair - rolls along with the darkness and disappears with it. He threw away the cigarette butt. As if he himself hadn’t had enough of it all.

“Let’s go have a drink somewhere,” he suggested.

This is the simplest thing. He will pay and leave, and then let her decide what to do and what to do.

The woman moved forward hesitantly, but stumbled and staggered. Ravich grabbed her arm.

- Are you tired? - he asked.

- Don't know. Perhaps.

– Are you so tired that you can’t sleep?

She nodded.

- Happens. Let's go. Hold on to me.

They walked along Avenue Marceau. Ravich felt that the stranger was leaning on him as if she was about to fall.

They turned onto Peter Serbsky Avenue. Beyond the intersection with Rue Chaillot, in a receding perspective between the houses, the outlines of the Arc de Triomphe rose up like a dark and unsteady mass against the background of the rainy sky.

Ravich nodded towards the sign that glowed above the narrow basement stairs:

“We’ll come here, there’s sure to be something here.”

It was a driver's pub. There are several taxi drivers and a couple of whores at the tables. Taxi drivers played cards. The whores sipped absinthe. As if on cue, they measured his companion with a quick, professional gaze. After which they turned away indifferently. The older one yawned loudly; the other began lazily putting on her makeup. In the back, a very young waiter with the face of an offended little rat poured sawdust onto the stone slabs and began sweeping the floor. Ravich chose a table near the door. This will make it easier to wash away. I didn’t take off my coat.

- What will you drink? - he asked.

- Don't know. Anything.

“Two Calvados,” he said to the approaching waiter; he was wearing a vest, his shirt sleeves rolled up. - And a pack of Chesterfields.

“There’s no Chesterfield,” the waiter snapped. - Only French.

- Fine. Then a pack of Laurent, green.

- There are no green ones. Only blue ones.

Ravich looked at the waiter’s hand, there was a tattoo on it - a naked beauty walking on the clouds. The waiter caught his gaze and, clenching his hand into a fist, played with the muscle. The beauty's belly moved lustfully.

“Then blue ones,” said Ravich.

Garson grinned.

“Maybe there will still be green ones,” he reassured and walked away, shuffling in his slippers.

Ravich looked after him.

“Red flip-flops, belly dancing tattoo,” he muttered. - The guy served in the Turkish Navy.

The stranger put her hands on the table. She laid them down as if she would never pick them up again. The hands were well-groomed, but that doesn’t mean anything. And not so well-groomed. There's the nail on the middle finger right hand broken off and seemingly just bitten off. And the varnish has peeled off in some places.

The waiter brought two glasses and a pack of cigarettes.

– “Laurent”, green. One pack was found.

– I didn’t doubt you. Did you serve in the navy?

- No. At the circus.

- And even better. – Ravich pushed a glass towards the woman. - Here, have a drink. At such times - the most suitable drink. Or do you want coffee?

- Just in one gulp.

The woman nodded and downed her glass. Ravich looked at her closely. The face is extinct, deathly pale, almost without expression. The lips are swollen, but also faded, as if their outlines have been erased, and only light brown hair, heavy, with a natural golden tint, is truly beautiful. She wore a beret and a blue tailored suit underneath her cloak. The suit is from an expensive tailor, and only the green stone in the ring on his hand is too large to be real.

-Will you have another drink? – asked Ravich.

The stranger nodded.

He called the waiter.

- Two more Calvados. Just more glasses.

- Just glasses? Or should I pour more?

- Exactly.

- So, two doubles?

- You are quick-witted.

Ravich decided to drink his Calvados right away and run away. It was getting boring, and he was tired to death. Actually he's in similar cases he was patient, after all, he had forty years behind him by no means peaceful life. However, everything that was happening now was too familiar to him. He has been in Paris for several years, he has insomnia, and, wandering around the city at night, he has seen everything.

Garson brought the order. Ravich carefully took the glasses of spicy, fragrant apple vodka from him and placed one in front of the stranger.

- Here, have another drink. It won't help, but it will definitely warm you up. And no matter what happens to you, don’t worry. There aren't many things in the world worth worrying about.

The woman looked up at him. But I didn’t drink.

“It’s true,” Ravich continued. - Especially at night. Night – she exaggerates everything.

The woman was still looking at him.

“You don’t need to console me,” she said.

- All the better.

Ravich was already looking for the waiter. He's had enough. He knows this type of women. She must be Russian, he thought. This one won’t even have time to warm up and dry out, but it will already begin to teach you wisdom.

Arc de Triomphe is a novel about love, hope, and thirst for life. At the center of the story is the story of a refugee from Germany, Ravik, who was forced to live illegally in France due to his refusal to recognize Aryan race the only life worth living. After long torture by the Gestapo, being in a concentration camp, running away, Ravik, who has lost everything, tries to live without feeling, without expecting anything, without hoping, always ready for the next escape. "Only he is free who has lost everything worth living for." However unexpected meeting with a girl in trouble, changes his life, changes him. By saving Joan, he, without realizing it, ends up being saved by her. Political situation in Europe, the imminent approach of war, growing uncertainty in tomorrow- all these are obstacles to the happiness of two loving hearts.
It is not for nothing that Remarque is called the last romantic of the 20th century; he masterfully envelops us in the atmosphere of nascent love. The characters' dialogues are full of passion, tenderness and sadness.
And all this in the most romantic city in the world. Remarque describes Paris so richly that you begin to smell cigars, taste Calvados, sounds French chanson. Like Hemingway in A Farewell to Arms, Remarque gives the drink symbolic meaning, Calvados becomes a drink of love, part of the story of Ravik and Joan.
And yet love is not the main theme of the novel. The tragedy of war, the injustice of life. People, each with their own bitter fate, are doomed to survive, no matter what, they are full of thirst for life, even after losing everything. Ravik, a brilliant surgeon, is forced to work illegally, for pennies, sometimes correcting the mistakes of crooked surgeons. Joan, trying to squeeze everything out of life before it’s too late, thereby driving herself into a corner. Kat, with a terminal illness, is still making plans and going to balls. Jeannot, who finds benefit even in terrible injury. Boris, Rolanda, Lucienne... Life beats everyone, but they do not give up, they stand, as the Arc de Triomphe stands at the end in pitch darkness. And I want to believe that they will survive this struggle for life.

The book is easy to read, the characters are written amazingly. Remarque is without a doubt a genius. Everything is so complicated, but presented so simply. There are still many themes and thoughts in the novel that are worthy of discussion and comprehension. The novel will not leave anyone indifferent, I highly recommend it to everyone.

And finally, some brilliant thoughts in my opinion.

“No person can become more alien than the one you loved in the past...”

"Faith easily leads to fanaticism. That is why so much blood has been shed in the name of religion."

“No matter what happens to you, don’t take anything to heart. Little in the world is important for a long time.”

“Why are pious people so intolerant? Cynics have the easiest character, idealists have the most intolerable character. Doesn’t this make you think?”

“Never has life been so precious as it is today...when it is worth so little.
"

"Only a dream helps us come to terms with reality."

"Only he is free who has lost everything worth living for."