In The Red Ring, the writer returns us to the methods of the standard French realist school, in a detective style that is not devoid of suspense, and invites us to reconsider our political affiliations and alignments, regardless of their differences, and to scrutinize their origin and motives. He also asks us again the big questions about the issues of war, death, patriotism, and loyalty. Through a story that took place shortly after World War II in the French region of Berry, where a heroic veteran is arrested. He was detained in a cell that was a military barracks, and an emaciated dog barked at the door day and night.
Not far from her, a young woman lives the peasant life she was not made for, hoping to wait.
A young aristocratic judge investigates the detainee's case, after the war stripped him of his ideals and values.
Linking these characters is a dog that holds the keys to the story.
Summary of the book: In Brief, You Are My Dream. Written by: Maryam Bint Al-Aali I wrote in this book a lot of different feelings and topics. Between its lines there are feelings that go back to my heart, my feelings, and my general life. I wrote about love in the sense of my private heart, and about happiness, sadness, separation, and many feelings that carry praise for one person and reproach for others. My words here do not constitute one year or a period. Short of my life, but here is a group of years that began when my pen began to draw its first letters and continues to this day. There are also those feelings that do not belong to me, but rather to those around me. When they were happy, I had to write about their joy, and while they were sad and in pain, I had to speak instead of their hearts and share their sorrows with them through those pulsating letters. Every time I listen to what... They feel it from experiences in this life full of different stories. I used to quote a summary from it and spin it with my fingertips to form thoughts that tell what is inside them. We all always want to explain our different feelings, but that is difficult for everyone, as we are not equal. Thus, my pen was my heart with its feelings and experiences, and all of their hearts with all those things that they experienced. Share with me the details. I have talked about many things in the pages of my book, and yet my heart still longs to live more and sees that what I have written so far is nothing more than the letters of a few years that passed during my youth and youth. I talked a lot in my book about feelings of love, and I am fully aware that many will not understand them well. They will like the beauty of the letters and the harmony of the words, but only those who have lived the same feeling and know that love is not the love that exists between two genders or two people, but rather love is to love ourselves, so we love those who love us. We love life around us and thus we see people in a completely different light. As for separation, pain, sadness, treachery, and betrayal, I know that everyone will understand it and delusively think that it touches on the pain and pain that went through his heart, not because he actually felt it, but pain and sadness are somewhat similar in reactions and the way they are expressed by the majority, even though we live in different things. It has to do with what others experience, as separation is different people, times, ages, situations, and ways that are not as similar as they think. As for the beauty, happiness, and spontaneous feelings in our lives, they are what give us hope, ambition, and strength to remain steadfast in this life. In the last topics of my book, I spoke a lot and expressed my love for my friends. They are always the most important and have priority. Only them remain with us. No one shares our sorrows and joys except them. No one understands our strange behavior and different feelings except true friends who are absolutely indispensable.
I went back to my story to confirm the truth of what happened, whether it was fantasies or a conflict within myself. For your information, I wrote what I did so that no one would come and say: How did the novelist write that when he was not on the computer and went to swallow headache pills? In general, what I do is not important because I am just a novelist.
The events of the novel are the most important...
Writer ...
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