"Somewhere In Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matheson Richard)

Scanners note.. Over the last few years I've scanned and posted dozens of ebooks. This one is very special, it really does have the power to make a grown man cry. It is a hauntingly beautiful book. If you are reading it for the first time, I envy you. If you've read it before, or watched the movie, - based upon the book, - welcome home.




Somewhere in Time by Richard Matheson.

A novel in the tradition of Jack Finney's Time and Again, as well as Matheson's own What Dreams May Come.
Somewhere in Time inspired a 1980 film starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour that has become a genuine cult classic.




Note by Robert Collier

I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing in having my brother's manuscript published. He never thought it would be. He didn't even think he'd finish it.

He did finish it, however, and, notwithstanding certain first-draft weaknesses, I feel that it merits public attention. Richard was a writer, after all, albeit this is the only book he ever wrote. For this reason, despite uncertainties which still prevail, I submitted it for publication.

Yielding to the publisher, I've done extensive pruning in the first section of the manuscript. Again, I'm not sure I've done the right thing. I can't dispute the fact that this section was lengthy and occasionally tedious. Still, I do feel guilty about it. If it were up to me, I'd publish the manuscript in its entirety. I hope, at least, that my excisions have been faithful to Richard's intent.

In addition to believing that my brother's book deserves to be read, there is another reason for having it published.

Frankly, his story is incredible. No matter how I try, I can't believe it. I hope its publication creates the possibility that someone will. For myself, I can accept only one aspect of it- but that I accept completely: To Richard, this was not a work of fiction. He believed, without question, that he lived each moment of it.

Los Angeles, California July 1974


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November 14, 1971

Driving down Long Valley Road. Lovely day; bright sunshine, blue sky. Past the three-rail fences painted white. A horse appraises me. Ranch country in Los Angeles. Down one side of a road dip, up the other. Sunday morning. Peaceful. Pepper trees on each side of the road, foliage stirring in the breeze.

Almost out now. Away from Bob and Mary, from their house, from my little guest house out in back; from Kit who came to visit while I worked, clomped hooves, sighed, nickered, groaned, and, all else failing to evoke attention and potential feed, bumped her nose against my wall. No more.

The last dip and the final speed bump. Up ahead, Ventura Freeway and the world. Adios Amigos printed on the sign above the gatehouse. Farewell, Hidden Hills.

Х Х Х

Standing in the car wash. Strangely empty. Everyone at church? A beige Mercedes-Benz just inched by. Always meant to get one someday. Scratch another project. Drinking beef broth purchased from the vending machine. Here comes my dark blue Galaxie. Staid, acceptable, and moderately priced; my kind of car. The nozzles greet it, shooting out their long, thin streams of lather.

Х Х Х

In the empty parking lot outside the post office. Last visit to my box. Won't bother stopping service. Mailed my last bill payments off to Ma Bell and The Broadway.

Х Х Х

Waiting at the stop sign by Topanga Boulevard. An opening now. A quick turn left-ease over-right turn-up the ramp and onto the Ventura Freeway. Farewell, Woodland Hills.