Warmth in every pagetranslated

This is exactly what I would like to say about Denis Akhalashvili’s book “The Warmth of Beloved Hands.” A variety of stories are collected under one cover: joyful and sad, funny and those that bring tears to your eyes.

Denis, or, as his Georgian relatives call him, Besiko, has an amazing talent for writing simply and vividly, so that the reader sees landscapes, smells aromas, and witnesses important meetings, falls and joys of an ordinary layman.

Throughout the book, the author often recalls his dear grandparents and how they slowly revealed to him, a little boy, the most important things in life: “For example, my grandmother took them to a funeral. When her friends died, the grandmother always went there, dressed her grandchildren in clean shirts, combed their hair and took them with them. If the deceased were Christians, she always asked when the priest would be there, and during the funeral service she stood on her feet throughout the service and secretly cried, and then wrote down the name of the deceased in a special old notebook, which she constantly carried with her, so that, as she said, “to remember this person with God.” What this meant, she and her brother had no idea, but judging by the grandmother’s concentrated, calm appearance, it was something important and necessary...