In a private house      07/20/2020

11 minutes summary. Eleven minutes. About the book “11 Minutes” by Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coelho

Eleven minutes

Dedication

This was not the first time I heard these words, but each time I rejoiced at them. However, at that moment I was very confused, because I knew that “Eleven Minutes” was a book talking about a subject that could confuse, shock, and hurt. I walked to the source, got some water, returned, asked where this man lived (it turned out to be in the north of France, on the border with Belgium), and wrote down his name.

This book is dedicated to you, Maurice Gravelin. I have obligations to you, to your wife and granddaughter - but also to myself: I must talk about what worries and occupies me, and not about what everyone would like to hear from me. Some books make us dream, others immerse us in reality, but all of them are imbued with the most important feeling for the author - sincerity.

For I am the first and I am the last I am revered and despised I am the harlot and the holy

I am a wife and a maiden

I am mother and daughter

I am my mother's hands

I am barren, but my children are countless. I am happy in marriage and unmarried. I am the one who gives birth, and the one who will never give birth to offspring. I ease the pains of childbirth. I am the husband and wife. And it was I who gave birth to my husband. I am the mother. my father I am the sister of my husband Worship me forever.

For I am malicious and generous.

Hymn to Isis, discovered at Nag Hammadi, 3rd or 4th century (?) BC. e.

And so, a woman of that city, who was a sinner, having learned that He was reclining in the house of a Pharisee, brought an alabaster vessel of ointment;

And standing behind His feet and weeping, she began to wet His feet with tears and wipe them with the hair of her head, and kissed His feet and anointed them with myrrh.

Seeing this, the Pharisee who invited Him said to himself: if He were a prophet, He would know who and what kind of woman was touching Him, for she was a sinner.

Turning to him, Jesus said: Simon! I have something to tell you. He says: tell me, Teacher.

Jesus said: A certain creditor had two debtors: one owed five hundred dinars, and the other fifty;

But since they did not have anything to pay, he forgave them both. Tell me, which of them will love him more?

Simon answered: I think the one to whom he forgave more. He said to him: you judged correctly.

And turning to the woman, he said to Simon: Do you see this woman? I came to your house, and you did not give me water for my feet; and she wet My feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head.

You didn't give me a kiss; and she, since I came, has not stopped kissing My feet.

Therefore I tell you: her many sins are forgiven because she loved much; and he who is forgiven little loves little.

Once upon a time there lived a prostitute named Maria.

Wait a minute! “Once upon a time” is good for the beginning of a fairy tale, but a story about a prostitute is clearly for adults. How can a book open with such a blatant contradiction? But since each of us has one foot in a fairy tale and the other above the abyss, let’s continue as we started. So: Once upon a time there lived a prostitute named Maria.

Like all prostitutes, she was born pure and immaculate, and while she was growing up, she kept dreaming that she would meet the man of her dreams (he would be handsome, rich and smart), and marry him ( White dress, veil with fleur-de-orange), will give birth to two children (they will grow up and become famous), will live in good home(with sea views). Her father sold from a stall, her mother sewed, and in her hometown, lost in the Brazilian outback, there was only a cinema, a restaurant and a bank - all in singular, - and therefore Maria waited tirelessly: the day would come and a handsome prince would appear without warning, fall in love without memory and take him away to conquer the world.

Well, while the handsome prince was away, all that was left was to dream. She fell in love for the first time when she was eleven years old - on the way from home to school. On the very first day of classes, Maria realized that she had a travel companion: a neighbor boy went to school with her on the same schedule. They never said a word to each other, but she began to notice that what she liked most were those moments when, on a long road - there was a column of dust, the sun was blazing mercilessly, thirst was tormenting - and, exhausted, she kept up with the boy who walks at a brisk pace.

And this went on for several months. And Maria, who could not stand studying and, apart from television, did not recognize any other entertainment - and there was none - mentally adjusted the time so that the day would quickly pass, morning would come and she could go to school, and Saturdays and Sundays would not be an example to my classmates - I completely fell out of love. And since, as you know, time passes more slowly for children than for adults, she suffered greatly and was angry that these endless days gave her only ten minutes of love and thousands of hours to think about her lover and imagine how wonderful it would be if only they had talked.

And then it happened.

One fine morning the boy came up to her and asked if she had an extra hand. Maria did not answer, pretended to be offended by such a daring outburst, and quickened her pace. But when she saw that he was heading towards her, everything inside her sank: suddenly she realized how much she loved him, how impatiently she was waiting, how she dreamed of taking his hand and, passing the doors of the school, walking further and further along the road until it ends, until it leads to where - people say - there is a big city, and there everything will be exactly as they show on TV - artists, cars, cinema on every corner, and all kinds of pleasures and entertainment there .

She couldn’t concentrate on the lesson all day, tormented that she had behaved so stupidly, but at the same time rejoicing because the boy finally noticed her, and that he asked for a pen was just an excuse, a reason to start a conversation: after all, when he approached, She noticed that she had her own sticking out of his pocket. And that night - and all the subsequent ones - Maria kept thinking about how she would answer him next time, so as not to make a mistake and start a story that would have no ending.

But there was no next time. Although they continued, as before, to walk to school the same way - Maria sometimes walked ahead, clutching her hand in her right fist, and sometimes lagged behind so that she could look at him from behind with tenderness - but he didn’t say a word to her anymore, so until the end school year she had to love and suffer in silence.

And then the endless holidays dragged on, and then one day she woke up covered in blood, thought that she was dying, and decided to leave this same boy a farewell letter, admit that she had never loved anyone so much in her life, and then run away into the forest so that she could there he was torn to pieces by a werewolf or a headless mule - one of those monsters that kept the surrounding peasants in fear. Only if such a death overtakes her, she thought, will her parents not be killed, because the poor are built that way - troubles fall on them like out of a thin bag, but hope still remains. So let her parents think that some childless rich people took their girl in and that, God willing, someday she will return to Father's house in all its splendor and with a lot of money, but the one she fell in love with (for the first time, but forever) will remember her all his life and reproach himself every morning for not turning to her again.

This is the most frank, the most naturalistic - and the most scandalous of Paulo Coelho's novels. A novel-story about a prostitute named Maria. It is she, the professional priestess of love, who will have to express the author’s doubts and thoughts about a problem that has long been brewing in modern society, but about which no one has yet dared to speak openly. “Our civilization has gone somewhere wrong, and it’s not about the ozone hole, not about the destruction of the Amazon forests, not about the extinction of panda bears, not about smoking, not about carcinogenic products and not about the crisis of the prison system, as the newspapers declare. Namely in the sphere of existence where Maria worked - in sex.”

As in all other books by Coelho, in “Eleven Minutes” each reader will find a response to his own questions that are important to him. But just as in other works, he will not receive ready-made answers to them. After all, the search for your own Truth is a purely personal matter. And, perhaps, it is the novel “Eleven Minutes” that will help someone find mental and physical harmony.

Paulo Coelho

Eleven minutes

Dedication

This was not the first time I heard these words, but each time I rejoiced at them. However, at that moment I was very confused, because I knew that “Eleven Minutes” was a book talking about a subject that could confuse, shock, and hurt. I walked to the source, got some water, returned, asked where this man lived (it turned out to be in the north of France, on the border with Belgium), and wrote down his name.

This book is dedicated to you, Maurice Gravelin. I have obligations to you, to your wife and granddaughter - but also to myself: I must talk about what worries and occupies me, and not about what everyone would like to hear from me. Some books make us dream, others immerse us in reality, but all of them are imbued with the most important feeling for the author - sincerity.

For I am the first and I am the last I am revered and despised I am the harlot and the holy

I am a wife and a maiden

I am mother and daughter

I am my mother's hands

I am barren, but my children are countless. I am happy in marriage and unmarried. I am the one who gives birth, and the one who will never give birth to offspring. I ease the pains of childbirth. I am the husband and wife. And it was I who gave birth to my husband. I am the mother. my father I am the sister of my husband Worship me forever.

For I am malicious and generous.

Hymn to Isis, discovered at Nag Hammadi, 3rd or 4th century (?) BC. e.

And so, a woman of that city, who was a sinner, having learned that He was reclining in the house of a Pharisee, brought an alabaster vessel of ointment;

And standing behind His feet and weeping, she began to wet His feet with tears and wipe them with the hair of her head, and kissed His feet and anointed them with myrrh.

Seeing this, the Pharisee who invited Him said to himself: if He were a prophet, He would know who and what kind of woman was touching Him, for she was a sinner.

Turning to him, Jesus said: Simon! I have something to tell you. He says: tell me, Teacher.

Jesus said: A certain creditor had two debtors: one owed five hundred dinars, and the other fifty;

But since they did not have anything to pay, he forgave them both. Tell me, which of them will love him more?

Simon answered: I think the one to whom he forgave more. He said to him: you judged correctly.

And turning to the woman, he said to Simon: Do you see this woman? I came to your house, and you did not give me water for my feet; and she wet My feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head.

You didn't give me a kiss; and she, since I came, has not stopped kissing My feet.

Therefore I tell you: her many sins are forgiven because she loved much; and he who is forgiven little loves little.

...I have to write about what makes me
interests, and not about what those would like to read about
or other people.

Paulo Coelho.

Girls looking for happiness in distant lands - this is about you. People who believe that the concepts of “sex” and “love” are directly related - this is for you. For his latest book, the smiling, gray-haired Brazilian chose a topic that is not the simplest, but incredibly popular: sex. Why? “I was trying to understand my own sexuality – and at the same time understand what makes the whole world revolve around these eleven minutes of sex.”“, - the writer answers, as always, sincerely and straightforwardly.

In some provincial Brazilian town there lived a girl, Maria, who was prone to introspection. She grew and grew and grew into an attractive young lady, aware of her attractiveness. At the age of 19, she made a forced march to Rio de Janeiro, so to speak, “to show herself, to look at others.” She was noticed by a rich Swiss, and now, entangled in promises, she flies to the land of banks and chocolate to become a star. She did not become a star - she became “one of” the casino’s dancers. Once she broke the rules and got fired from her job, however, by that time she had learned the language and got kicked out with good compensation. She had money for the return journey, but it was not enough for a triumphant return. And so, having weighed everything and thought it over, the girl resorts to the services of one of the oldest professions. Not from lack of money, not from despair - Masha very deliberately becomes a prostitute. He works in the evenings, goes to the library during the day, and reads books. Sometimes she dreams of the time when she will go home and buy herself a farm with the money she earns, and even specifically tries to read books on managing a household plot. But the main thing is that she keeps a diary in which she talks about love and sex, these diary wisdom shines, showing how Masha’s perception of the world changes from entry to entry. The girl is growing up.

“...The session lasts on average 45 minutes, and if you subtract the time for undressing and dressing, insincere affection, exchange of platitudes, then only eleven minutes remain for pure sex. The thing on which the world turns lasts only eleven minutes.”

“...A lover will never hurt his beloved; Each of us is responsible for the feelings we experience, and we have no right to blame the other for this. Losing people I've fallen in love with has hurt my soul before. Now I am convinced: no one can lose anyone, because no one belongs to anyone. This is true freedom - to have what is most dear to you, but not to own it.”

“...A lover makes love constantly, even when he is not making love. When bodies meet, it only means that the contents of the cup have spilled over the edge. They can stay together for hours and even days on end. They may begin intercourse today and complete it tomorrow, or they may not even complete it, because the pleasure is too great. Nothing to do with eleven minutes."

Unlike millions of similar stories, this one will end happily: Masha will grow wiser and find happy love. The only unusual thing is that Masha will be able to keep her love thanks to the conclusions she came to while engaging in prostitution. (Yes, that’s it!) By the way, Maria really existed (now, according to the author’s afterword, she lives in Lausanne with her husband and two lovely daughters), and more than half of the book is based on her experience. The diary entries are also not Coelho’s invention; here he used fragments of the unpublished book “The Science of Passion” by Antonella Zara. Well, the rest is the writer’s own vision, the results of conversations with friends, the experience of humanity.

Men, of course, won’t like it - it looks too much like a women’s novel; Yes, they don’t really like “Castaneda for the Poor” at all, and those who read “11 Minutes” will probably not fail to reproach: they found someone to make a “warrior of light”! Tough men, Coelho does not idealize prostitution, he simply does not condemn it. And in general, prostitution is here in passing: “I do not pretend to study the phenomenon of prostitution, says Coelho." “I tried not to judge in any way the choices my heroine makes. All I'm really interested in here is how people relate to each other sexually."

As usual, the book is written in simple and accessible language. Many condemn Coelho for this “simplicity”, suspecting the writer of intellectual mimicry: they say, he deliberately imbues the books with a kind of banal pseudo-wisdom that appeals to the taste of a wide and, by implication, narrow-minded public. Like any others, these arguments have a right to exist. Although sometimes it seems to me that the authors of such remarks are simply jealous, knowing that this “simple” Coelho is read by forty million people, albeit narrow-minded ones. Maybe they think they could write something like this too? Maybe they could. But it is unlikely that they would have been able to claim anything more than a collection of aphorisms. It's not just about the content. A book, like a painting, sculpture or other work of art, in addition to direct information (such as the content of a book, an image in a painting, the form of a sculpture), necessarily carries the energetic message of the author. Perhaps not everyone realized this, but it is true. There is such a powerful positive energy trail behind the “simple” texts of Koel’s books! To feel it, you don’t have to read all twelve volumes of Castaneda (just kidding) - you just need to have a heart. Coelho writes with his heart, which is why he is so loved. He reminds me of the Creole gem Cesaria Evora, a singer who, like Coelho, is loved by millions of people, rich and poor, happy and unhappy. Evora, too, you know, is incredibly simple, a country girl, now, however, a grandmother. I once composed and sang a song to my fiancé - alas, the groom died at sea, the girl’s heart broke, decades have passed since then, but the song does not get old, Cesaria still opens each of her concerts with it. She sings with her heart, Coelho writes. And even if we assume that both of them are great mystifiers, pretending to be “simple” in order to gain popularity in wide circles - and if at the same time they are read and listened to by millions, and if some of these millions feel - for a moment or forever - easier , calmer, more understandable in this world - does it really matter? Let them mystify.

Actually, I didn’t find anything new for myself personally in “11 Minutes”. We women, you know, have a direct connection with space... What some men realize in their sixties, many of us understand much earlier. The book didn't blow me away, but it didn't disappoint me either. Light, as always. There are people who are a pleasure to listen to, no matter what they talk about. There are people who are useful to listen to. Listening to Coelho is pleasant and useful. And if you don’t realize this, most likely, sad as it may be, you just haven’t grown up to it yet.

Elizaveta Kalitina

Polish director Jerzy Skolimowski is a strange man, and he is interested in strange things. What does a cell phone feel like in the pocket of a passenger on a falling plane? What if each moment in time happens countless times, depending on how many people are living that moment? How do they influence each other? simultaneously things happening? And simultaneously occurring People?

Strange questions. Strange movie. It’s as if a bass note is buzzing somewhere on the horizon of the viewer’s attention: something is going to happen. It's about to happen. Now. Or in eleven minutes.

The deck is shuffled in a whimsical manner a year ago at the 37th MIFF they showed the film “13 Minutes” (received at our box office with the bluntly crude title “Blow Up Hitler”), where the fate of humanity and the coming World War II depended on thirteen minutes. “11 Minutes” shown at the 38th MIFF is not a historical reconstruction at all, but rather a film vignette, fun for the idle mind, and at stake is not Hitler, but much more down-to-earth characters a jealous person, a sexy beauty, a nervous courier, a tempting producer , a sausage seller, laughing nuns, a window cleaner and even deeper a barking dog, a dove flying into the glass, a descending plane, and something in the clouds What is that there in the sky? Or is it a burnt-out pixel on the security camera screen? Everything tends to each other, everything happens at the same time, and this is not Groundhog Day. This is a reality that repeats itself an infinite number of times. The director made sure that we felt the rhythm of these eleven minutes - the clock on the tower is striking, the dog is barking, the plane is roaring as it descends By rewinding time again and again and allowing us to see the same events from different points of view, Skolimowski makes the viewer literally fidget on the edge of the chair and almost shouting: What? What's going to happen now? What's happening?

Don't think. Just watch. Here's a gust of wind. Here is a strange man on the screen saying something about the end of the world (no, this is not a film about the apocalypse). The plane descends lower and lower (no, this is not a film about a plane crash). Here is a schoolgirl spitting in the face of a sausage seller, shouting: “You were quickly released from prison, Mr. Teacher!” and we realize with horror that all these heroes have a past that is not important. The important thing is that they were here and now. All together on the screen space. At eleven minutes, when the sky appears This(no, this is not a film about an alien invasion).

It’s not for nothing that the film begins in mockumentary style. We film each other. We take selfies. We multiply reality, distort it, edit it, stretch it, and these broken pixels stubbornly creep into our reality (no, this is not a film about “The Matrix”). We are to blame for our every step, which goes in circles in the water of reality. It's like an episode of Final Destination where harmless things come together to rip someone's head off, burn them alive, squash them. It's scary to live. That’s probably why this corpse is hanging out in a small shop. 'Cause it's hard to stay sane when the sky is hanging This.

The actors are mostly unknown to you (OK, Richard Dormer played in Game of Thrones, but that doesn't matter). This ordinary people in an ordinary city. Just like you and me. Look up from the screen. Look around. What if you, too, are inside someone else's eleven minutes, and the first ten of them have already passed while you are reading this? What do you see - the real world, or one of the billions of surveillance cameras that we turn on when we open our eyes? And what's that in the top right corner of the screen? Scratch with your finger, but it's too late.

Your eleven minutes are up.

11 minutes Paulo Coelho. Too little time for real feelings

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Title: 11 minutes

About the book “11 Minutes” by Paulo Coelho

“11 Minutes” is one of Paulo Coelho’s most popular books, and, in my opinion, one of the most controversial. It can be understood in different ways: as a guide to finding yourself and love, or as a story about the life of one of many fallen women.

You can download the book “11 minutes” by Paulo Coelho at the bottom of the page in fb2, epub, txt, rtf format.

Paulo Coelho understands women very well, because it is impossible to so subtly describe what the weaker half of humanity thinks about. After reading the book, everyone will be able to find something of their own, recognize themselves in Mary’s behavior. Of course, few people will be able to admit this.

You should not take the book literally, because everything is figurative. Maria fell in love for the first time when she was very young, but she was confused, as children often are, and did not carry on the conversation with the boy who approached her. Such a simple event, in which there is nothing unusual, ultimately influenced her entire future fate.

In all books about love, sex is described as something unearthly, intimate, sublime. Everything here is very mundane and simple. There's nothing special about it. Just 11 minutes, with too much hype around it.

Maria was burned many times, and in the end, like many women, she had a broken heart, which she locked up. However, thanks to her determination and desire to make her life bright and rich, she sets out to look for her happiness, but finds much more important things that help her regain herself.

Maria is a bright, spectacular woman, with faith in a bright future, where she has loving husband, big house, and she can deny herself nothing. However, men are complex creatures: some need a mother, others a femme fatale, others a naive girl. Thanks to her, they prove to themselves that they are men. That's all.

The artist is a rather ambiguous personality. He, like Maria, suffers from loneliness. He has his problems, but he is different from typical men.

As a result, two lonely souls meet to help each other. Help you find yourself in this world, find love and peace of mind.

I repeat, the book should not be taken literally, because it can cause negative emotions. Look deeper into Mary's soul and you will understand how rich and beautiful she is, how much light there is in her eyes.

A person lives as long as he has dreams, like Mary’s - to find love and build a house for his parents. She strives for this, and along the way she understands herself, gets to know people, and sets priorities. This is the only way to truly reach the goal strong personalities, courageously coping with difficulties and obstacles.

On our website about books you can download the site for free or read online book“11 minutes” by Paulo Coelho in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. Buy full version you can from our partner. Also, here you will find last news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers there is a separate section with useful tips and recommendations, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

Quotes from the book “11 Minutes” by Paulo Coelho

She will go back to work in a fabric store, marry the owner - and all this after she flew on a plane across the ocean, ate Swiss cheese in Switzerland, learned French, and left her footprints in the snow.

She didn’t stop because she was proud - she would walk barefoot as long as necessary, but this path wouldn’t last forever...

I, do not consider it blasphemy, am one in three persons. And I turn to the side that is needed by the one who is speaking to me at that moment.

A representative of the human race can go without drinking for a week, without eating for two weeks, or without a roof over his head for many years - but he cannot stand loneliness.

I want to forget all this. I need love. I need to love - and nothing else.

A woman is more likely to admit that her husband is cheating on her than to admit that she doesn’t have suitable clothes.

... she suffered greatly and was angry that these endless days gave her only ten minutes of love and thousands of hours to think about her lover and imagine how wonderful it would be if they talked.

Each person has his own own wish, which becomes part of the treasures he keeps and, although it can scare someone away, usually attracts and attracts someone who is important to this person.

But life inspired her - and how quickly! - that the fittest survives. To become strong, you have to be the best of everyone. There is no other option.

All women are sure that a man does not need anything other than these eleven minutes of pure sex, and for them he shells out a lot of money.

Download the book “11 minutes” for free by Paulo Coelho

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