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Arc de Triomphe download fb2 full version. Arc de Triomphe Erich Maria Remarque

A novel by Erich Maria Remarque Triumphal Arch' is known all over the world. The writer manages to incredibly realistically describe war, love, the experiences of heroes and touch the hearts of readers. The book was written in the middle of the 20th century, is included in the list best books required reading.

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

In France, he meets Joan. She is an Italian actress who also has her own story. Ravik and Joan are very different, but they want to be together. The couple constantly quarrel and reconcile, they are looking for ways to mutual understanding. Their relationship is depicted frankly, without excessive fabulousness, but these people inspire each other, forcing them 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. It cannot be called a sweet fairy tale, it 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 period, when fear seems to be in the air. Using the examples of the life of heroes, the writer says that the pain does not go away completely even after a while. It can be a little muffled, but if old wounds are disturbed, then everything will return again. And yet, you need to continue to live and do something, you must not give up and help other people.

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

Title: Arc de Triomphe
Writer: Erich Maria Remarque
Year: 1945
Publisher: AST
Age limit: 12+
Volume: 540 pages
Genres: Literature of the 20th century, classical prose, Foreign classics

About the book "Arc de Triomphe" Erich Maria Remarque

Without grief and troubles, a person will never be able to appreciate the quiet, calm happiness. Only in difficult circumstances of life does his soul grow. In dark times, bright people are always seen. They do not break even under strong blows of fate. Their nature does not change from the wind of change, even if it is a change for the worse. “In an empty night of loneliness - that’s when something of its own can grow in a person, unless he falls into despair ...” - these words are pronounced main character love and dramatic history, which began near the triumphal arch in the most romantic city in the world - Paris.

But in Remarque's novel, we see a completely different France: a half-lit, dark capital, a gloomy sky overhead with gray, frowning clouds, from which an oblique, incessant rain pours onto the ground. Nature, as it were, emphasizes everything that happens in the souls of the people living here: hopelessness floating in the air, broken hopes, poverty, misery and a sense of imminent disaster. This is agony, the decline of Europe, the Nazis will soon come to power and will cut this part of the world in their own way own will regardless of anyone's interests. In such a gloomy atmosphere there is no place for light, dreams do not come true here. People here do not exist, but survive.

It is here that the main character of this story lives, Ravik, a surgeon, an immigrant without any documents, who fled from his country. He visited the Gestapo, endured torture and saw how a dear person dies from the clutches of the Nazis. Living in constant fear of arrest, expulsion from France, tormented by painful memories of the past, nevertheless, this person is doing a really necessary thing - saving human lives. Cheap hotel, work without a license for a penny, without documents, drinking in the evenings ... this is the existence given to the main character. How to regard his meeting with Joan, each reader must decide for himself ... Maybe this woman was sent to him as another punishment, punishment, she caused him so much pain with her windy antics ... On the other hand, maybe she is the only bright spot in his life, full of hardships and hardships, because no one said that love should be easy ... Sometimes this feeling turns our soul inside out. Researchers of Remarque's work say that this novel is partly autobiographical: the famous actress Marlene Dietrich was named the prototype of Joan Madu, with whom the writer had a fairly close relationship, the author was also an emigrant who lived far from his homeland, foresaw the onset of World War II, knew with what the parties should expect the most dangerous threat ...

Mysterious Parisian nights, vintage gypsy romances, cigarette smoke and booze, passion without limit ... all this slightly dilutes the life of the protagonist. But he still walks on it, as if on the end of a rope. After all, you never know what awaits you at the next turn of fate. Maybe the end of this story is a reassurance for the protagonist. He will no longer fight for his existence, now he absolutely does not care what happens to him next ... Now this person will only have memories of the past, and who knows how long he will be allowed to indulge in them ...

On our literary site, you can download the book Erich Maria Remarque "Arc de Triomphe" for free in formats suitable for different devices - epub, fb2, txt, rtf. Do you like to read books and always follow the release of new products? We have a large selection of books of various genres: classics, modern science fiction, literature on psychology and children's editions. In addition, we offer interesting and informative articles for beginner writers and all those who want to learn how to write beautifully. Each of our visitors will be able to find something useful and exciting.

Erich Maria Remarque

Triumphal Arch

A woman appeared from somewhere to the side and walked straight towards Ravich. She walked quickly, but with an unsteady, unsteady step. Ravich noticed her when she almost caught up with him. The face is pale, high cheekbones, eyes wide apart. The frozen, upturned face is a mask, and in the eyes, with a dull reflection of a lantern, an expression of such glassy emptiness flickered that Ravich involuntarily became alert.

The woman passed very close, almost hitting Ravich. He abruptly extended his hand and grabbed the stranger by the elbow. She staggered and would inevitably fall if he did not support her. But he held on tight.

– Where are you? he asked, hesitating slightly.

The woman was staring at him.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

Ravic didn't answer. And continued to firmly hold the stranger.

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

It seemed to Ravich that she did not see him at all. The woman was looking somewhere past and through him, fixing her eyes on the impenetrable darkness of the night. He was just a hindrance in her path, and that's how she addressed him.

- Let it go!

He immediately determined: no, not a whore. And not drunk. He loosened his grip a little. Now the woman, if desired, could easily free herself, but she did not even notice it. Ravic was still waiting.

- No, no joke, where are you in the middle of the night, alone, at such a 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 damp, porous stone under his palms.

- Isn't it there? He nodded behind him, where, gleaming with viscous lead, the unstoppable Seine squeezed lazily and heavily under the shadow of the Alma Bridge.

The woman didn't answer.

“It’s still early,” Ravich said. - It's too early, and it's cold. November anyway.

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

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

Ravich raised his head, then showed her the pack.

- Algerian. Black tobacco. Smoke of the foreign legion. You will probably be strong. And I don't have any others.

The woman shook her head and took a cigarette. Ravich handed her a burning match. She smoked greedily, in deep puffs. Ravich threw the match over the parapet. The match cut through the darkness with 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 Fifth Avenue.

Ravich suddenly felt tired to death. He worked like hell all day, and then he couldn't sleep at all. That's why I went out - I wanted something to drink. But now, in the dank 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? Of course, something happened to her. But what is it to him? He never saw women with whom something had happened, and even more so in the middle of the night in Paris, and now he was indifferent to all this, he wanted only one thing - to sleep for a couple of hours.

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

And he turned up his collar, determined to leave.

The woman looked at him with an uncomprehending look.

– Home? she asked.

Ravi shrugged.

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

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

Ravic turned around. Another restless soul with nowhere to go, he thought. It's time to get used to it. Forever the same. At night they do not know where to go, and in the morning, before you have time to open your eyes, they are already gone. 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. It's like he didn't get enough of it himself.

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

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

The woman moved forward unsteadily, but stumbled and staggered. Ravi took her by the arm.

- 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 the avenue Marceau. Ravich felt: the stranger was leaning on him as if she were about to fall.

They turned onto Petr Serbskogo Avenue. Beyond the crossroads with the rue de Chaillot, in a fading perspective between the houses, the outlines of the Arc de Triomphe were erected in 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’re here, we’re sure to find something here.

It was a driver's bar. There are several taxi drivers and a couple of whores at the tables. Taxi drivers played cards. The whores sipped absinthe. They, as if on command, measured his companion with a quick professional look. Then they turned away indifferently. The older one yawned loudly; the other began lazily to make up. In the depths, a very young waiter with the face of an offended rat sprinkled sawdust on the stone slabs and began to sweep the floor. Ravich chose a table near the door. So it will be more convenient to wash off. The coat did not take off.

- What will you drink? - he asked.

- Don't know. Anything.

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

“No Chesterfield,” said the waiter. - French only.

- Fine. Then a pack of Laurent, green.

- No greens. Only blue.

Ravich looked at the waiter's hand, it had a tattoo on it - a naked beauty striding through the clouds. The waiter caught his eye and, clenching his hand into a fist, played with a muscle. The belly of the beauty moved lustfully.

“Then the blue ones,” Ravich said.

Garson grinned.

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

Ravi looked after him.

“Red slippers, belly dance tattoo,” he muttered. - Not otherwise, the guy served in the Turkish fleet.

The stranger put her hands on the table. She laid them down like she would never pick them up again. The hands were well-groomed, but that doesn't mean anything. Yes, and not so well-groomed. There, the nail on the middle finger of the right hand is broken off and, it seems, just bitten. Yes, the lacquer is peeling off.

The waiter brought two glasses and a pack of cigarettes.

- Laurent, green. Found one pack.

“I didn't doubt you. Did you serve in the Navy?

- No. At the circus.

- And even better. Ravich pushed a glass to the woman. - Here, have a drink. At such a time - the most appropriate drink. Or do you want coffee?

- Only in one gulp.

The woman nodded and downed her glass. Ravi looked at her intently. The face is dull, deathly pale, almost expressionless. The lips are swollen, but also faded, as if worn out in outline, and only light blond hair, heavy, with a natural golden tint, is truly beautiful. She was wearing a beret, and under the cloak, a blue, custom-tailored suit. The suit is from an expensive tailor, and only the green stone in the ring on his hand is too big to be real.

– Will you drink some more? Ravic asked.

The stranger nodded.

He called the waiter.

“Two more Calvados. Just bigger glasses.

- Only glasses? Or pour more?

- Exactly.

So two doubles?

- You are perceptive.

Ravich decided to drink his Calvados right away and run away. It was getting boring, and he was tired to death. In fact, he was patient in such cases, after all, he had forty years of a life that was by no means calm. However, everything that was happening now was all 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 all sorts of things.

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

“Here, have another drink. It won't help, but it will warm you for sure. And whatever happens to you, don't worry. There aren't too many things in the world to worry about.

The woman rolled her eyes at him. But she didn't drink.

"That's true," Ravich continued. - Especially at night. Night - it exaggerates everything.

The woman was still looking at him.

“I don’t need to be comforted,” she said.

- All the better.

Ravich was already looking for the waiter. He's had enough. He knows this sort of women. Must be Russian, he thought. This one will not have time to warm up and dry out, but it will already begin to teach you the mind-reason.

Arc de Triomphe is a novel about love, hope, lust for life. In the center of the story is the story of a refugee from Germany, Ravik, who was forced to live illegally in France because of his disagreement to recognize the Aryan race as the only worthy life. After long torture by the Gestapo, a stay in a concentration camp, running, Ravik, who has lost everything, is trying to live without feeling, not expecting anything, not hoping, always ready for another flight. "Only the one who has lost everything worth living for is free." However, an unexpected meeting with a girl in trouble changes his life, changes him. Saving Joan, he, without realizing it, is saved by her. The political situation in Europe, the imminent approach of war, the growing uncertainty about tomorrow- all these are barriers to the happiness of two loving hearts.
Remarque is not in vain named last romantic XX century, he masterfully envelops us with an atmosphere of nascent love. The dialogues of the characters are full of passion, tenderness and sadness.
And all this in the most romantic city in the world. Remarque describes Paris so juicy that you begin to smell cigars, the taste of Calvados, the sounds of French chanson. Like Hemingway in A Farewell to Arms, Remarque gives the drink a 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 a thirst for life, even having lost everything. Ravik, a brilliant surgeon, is forced to work illegally, for a pittance, sometimes correcting the mistakes of "crooked" surgeons. Joan, trying to squeeze everything out of life before it's too late, thus driving herself into a corner. Kat with an incurable disease is still making plans, going to balls. Jeannot, who finds profit even in a terrible injury. Boris, Roland, Lucienne... Life beats everyone, but they don't give up, they stand as the Arc de Triomphe stands at the end in total darkness. And I want to believe that they will survive in this struggle for life.

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

And finally, brilliant in my opinion thoughts.

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

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

"Whatever happens to you - do not take anything to heart. Little in the world is important for a long time."

"Why are pious people so intolerant? Cynics have the easiest temperament, idealists have the most unbearable. Doesn't this make you think?"

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

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

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

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