Continuity of Parks (a translation). Translated by Alan Pagliere​ from the original by Julio Cortázar Read the original at Biblioteca Digital Ciudad Seva. He had. THE CONTINUITY OF PARKS. BY JULIO CORTÁZAR. H. E HAD BEGUN TO READ THE NOVEL. a few days before. He had. put it aside because of some. Cortazar’s “The Continuity of Parks” plays on the philosophical movement of Idealism. The movement comments on the power of the mind.

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He had started reading the novel a few days earlier. He let himself be drawn slowly into the plot, the sketches of the characters.

That evening, after writing a letter to his attorney and after discussing some matter of business with the butler, he returned to the book in the quiet of his study which had a view of the park filled with continuify trees. Sprawled on his favorite armchair, its back turned toward the door that might otherwise have bothered him as an irritating possibility for intrusion, he let his left hand caress the green velvet again and again and began to read the final chapters.


Continuity of Parks by Julio Cortázar

The novel-esque illusion won him over almost immediately. The dagger became warm against his chest and under it beat his heart with a sense of liberty crouched in waiting.

A breathless dialog coursed through the pages like a stream of serpents and he felt that everything had been determined from the very beginning. Nothing had been forgotten: From that point on, every instant had its own minutely assigned purpose. The relentless double check of the plan was barely interrupted for a hand to caress a cheek.

Night began to fall. She was to follow the path to the north. From the opposite path, he turned for an instant to see her running, her hair loose. And now he ran too, hiding among the trees and hedges, until he was able, in the pale purple mist of twilight, to make out the tree-lined drive that led to the house.

Continuity of Parks by Julio Cortázar | clouds&broccoli

He climbed the three steps of the porch and entered. At the top, two doors.


No one in the first room, no one in the second. The door of the parlor, and finally the pagks in his hand, the light from the windows, the high back of the green velvet armchair, the head of the man in the chair, reading a novel. Your email address will not be published.

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