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"A marvelous new novel from the Pulitzer Prize winning author of The Lowland and Interpreter of Maladies--her first in nearly a decade. Exuberance and dread, attachment and estrangement: in this novel, Jhumpa Lahiri stretches her themes to the limit. The woman at the center wavers between stasis and movement, between the need to belong and the refusal to form lasting ties. The city she calls home, an engaging backdrop to her days, acts as a confidant: the sidewalks around her house, parks, bridges, piazzas, streets, stores, coffee bars. We follow her to the pool she frequents and to the train station that sometimes leads her to her mother, mired in a desperate solitude after her father's untimely death. In addition to colleagues at work, where she never quite feels at ease, she has girl friends, guy friends, and "him," a shadow who both consoles and unsettles her. But in the arc of a year, as one season gives way to the next, transformation awaits. One day at the sea, both overwhelmed and replenished by the sun's vital heat, her perspective will change. This is Jhumpa Lahiri's first novel she wrote in Italian and translated into English. It brims with the impulse to cross barriers. By grafting herself onto a new literary language, Lahiri has pushed herself to a new level of artistic achievement"--… (mais)
Essays or thought pieces working together as a novel of a life. Lovely, engaging in the translation and attention to language and evocation of a place. ( )
Whereabouts by Jhumpa Lahiri is a lovely little book, even if the title feels somewhat mistranslated. I'd prefer something more literal such as, Where I find myself. It's a collection of asides about life and loss in a voice that makes me want to write down observations just like she does. But I've a suspicion that such effortlessness writing is not as easy as it appears. Not all the pieces work in the subtle way that seems to suggest a quiet but profound insight or that the pieces will knit together into a narrative. For example the piece entitled In the Shade seems somewhat laboured. But mostly they propel the reader towards some kind of conclusion which ultimately comes with a clearing away.
Is there any place we are not moving through? Disorientated, lost, at sea, at odds, astray, adrift, bewildered, confused, uprooted, turned around. I’m related to these related terms. These words are my abode, my only foothold.
Blijkbaar is dit het eerste fictie-boek dat Jhumpa Lahiri in het Italiaans schreef, na haar verhuis naar Italië in 2012. Had ik het geweten, dan had ik het in het Italiaans gelezen. Ik heb toch een beetje geworsteld met dit boekje: het is een verzameling korte (autobiografische?) vignettes van een vrouw die diverse scenes uit haar leven beschrijft, de ene na de andere, in een erg ingehouden, emotieloze stijl. En het was vooral dat laatste waar ik moeite mee had. Zeker in het begin gaat het vooral om beschrijving van uiterlijke aspecten (het uitzicht van een straat bijvoorbeeld), en lijken zowel de protagoniste als de mensen die ze ontmoet eerder automaten, nog versterkt door het feit dat Lahiri nergens (plaats)namen gebruikt, en er helemaal geen verhaal of plot is. Op een bepaald moment deed dit boekje me zelfs aan de Nouveau Roman denken, de Franse literaire stroming uit de jaren 1960, met werken van Alain Robbe-Grillet of Nathalie Sarraute. En toch begon het na een tijdje wel te spreken: Lahiri zet een vrouw neer die erg op zichzelf leeft, en vooral beschouwingen over haar eenzaamheid neerpent. In die zin (en ik ben niet origineel, ik weet het) flitste ook Rachel Cusk door mijn hoofd. Op die manier begon ik het emotieloze meer en meer te zien als een vorm van gelaagde ingetogenheid: een wat ouder wordende vrouw die worstelt met haar alleen-zijn, maar er ook de positieve kanten van ziet en er mee leert te leven. En dan krijgt het onpersoonlijke meer iets van een universeel karakter. Het is allerminst een spectaculair boekje, dat me niet echt raakte, maar toch wel knap gedaan is. ( )
I did end up restarting this a bunch of times but once I started I really connected with it. I am becoming a Jhumpa Lahiri fan and this quietly insinuated itself into my reading life. Really it is only a series of vingettes but it created a mood and I felt so comfortable with the narrator and her internal dialouge. Need to read more by her.
Short audiobook,it didn't speak much to me. The characters seemed plain,uninteresting, the plot unexisting,and there was no development. I get that it is supposed to be a snapshop of this character's routine,but you know what? her routine is boring. Such a shame because I really really really liked her collection of short stories: The Interpreter of Maladies ( )
Informação do Conhecimento Comum em inglês.Edite para a localizar na sua língua.
Ad ogni mutamento di posto io provo una grande enorme tristezza. Non maggiore quando lascio un luogo cui si connettono dei recordi o dei dolori e piaceri. È il mutamento stesso che m'agita come il liquido in un vaso che scosso s'intorbida. —Italo Svevo, Saggi e Pagine Sparse
Every time my surroundings change I feel enormous sadness. It's not greater when I leave a place tied to memories, grief, or happiness. It's the change itself that unsettles me, just as liquid in a jar turns cloudy when you shake it. —Italo Svevo, Essays and Uncollected Writings
Dedicatória
Primeiras palavras
Informação do Conhecimento Comum em inglês.Edite para a localizar na sua língua.
In the mornings after breakfast I walk past a small marble plaque propped against the high wall flanking the road. I never knew the man who died.
Citações
Informação do Conhecimento Comum em inglês.Edite para a localizar na sua língua.
We realized that we were two survivors, and in the end we felt like partners in a crime. Each revelation was devastating. Everything she said. And yet, even as my life shattered in pieces, I felt as if I were finally coming up for air.
Solitude: it's become my trade. As it requires a certain discipline, it's a condition I try to perfect.
In spite of how she's clung to me over the years my point of view doesn't interest her, and this gulf between us has taught me what solitude really means.
Últimas palavras
Aviso de desambiguação
Editores da Publicação
Autores Resenhistas (normalmente na contracapa do livro)
Idioma original
Informação do Conhecimento Comum em inglês.Edite para a localizar na sua língua.
"A marvelous new novel from the Pulitzer Prize winning author of The Lowland and Interpreter of Maladies--her first in nearly a decade. Exuberance and dread, attachment and estrangement: in this novel, Jhumpa Lahiri stretches her themes to the limit. The woman at the center wavers between stasis and movement, between the need to belong and the refusal to form lasting ties. The city she calls home, an engaging backdrop to her days, acts as a confidant: the sidewalks around her house, parks, bridges, piazzas, streets, stores, coffee bars. We follow her to the pool she frequents and to the train station that sometimes leads her to her mother, mired in a desperate solitude after her father's untimely death. In addition to colleagues at work, where she never quite feels at ease, she has girl friends, guy friends, and "him," a shadow who both consoles and unsettles her. But in the arc of a year, as one season gives way to the next, transformation awaits. One day at the sea, both overwhelmed and replenished by the sun's vital heat, her perspective will change. This is Jhumpa Lahiri's first novel she wrote in Italian and translated into English. It brims with the impulse to cross barriers. By grafting herself onto a new literary language, Lahiri has pushed herself to a new level of artistic achievement"--
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