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Història de rigideses, d'inflexibilitat, d'educació autorità ria, de masclisme, de pressió social. M'ha recordat sinistrament l'enquesta de la periodista turca als homes que han matat dones de la seva famÃlia, 'per la pressió de l'entorn'.
La novel·la m'ha enganxat completament. Les veus de les tres dones, les seves reflexions encreuades que van teixint de mica en mica tot el tapÃs m'han captivat. ( )
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
Much Madness is divinest Sense--
To a discerning eye--
Much Sense--the starkest Madness--
'Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail--
Assent--and you are sane--
Demur--and you're straightaway dangerous--
And handled with a Chain--
Emily Dickinson
I couldn't have my happiness made out of a wrong-- an unfairness-- to somebody else . . . What sort of a life could we build on such foundations?
Edith Wharton
Dedicatòria
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
for Saul Seamus
Primeres paraules
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
Let us begin with two girls at a dance.
Citacions
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
This girl is remarkable to her. She is a marvel. From all her family – her and Kitty and Hugo and all the other babies and her parents – from all of them, there is only this girl. She is the only one left. They have all narrowed down to this black-haired girl sitting o the sand, who has no idea that her hands and her eyes and the tilt of her head and the fall of her hair belong to Esme's mother. We are all, Esme decides, just vessels through which identities pass: we are lent features, gestures, habits, then we hand them on. Nothing is our own. We begin in the world as anagrams of our antecedents.
It is always the meaningless tasks that endure: the washing, the cooking, the clearing, the cleaning. Never anything majestic or sigificant, just the tiny rituals that hold together the seams of human life. (p. 2)
We are all, Esme decides, just vessels through which identities pass: we are lent features, gestures, habits, then we hand them on. Nothing is our own. We begin in the world as anagrams of our antecedents. (p. 118)
But for now she will sit here. She will take just a few minutes for this. She wants to watch until the sun goes in again, until the sundial loses its marker, until the garden sinks into softness, into shadow. (p. 241)
Darreres paraules
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
She will go with it, she will follow it, through the white, through the crowd, out of the room, into the corridor and beyond.
Fiction.
Literature.
Historical Fiction.
HTML:From the New York Times best-selling author of Hamnet comes a gothic, intricate tale of family secrets, lost lives, and the freedom brought by truth... In the middle of tending to the everyday business at her vintage-clothing shop and sidestepping her married boyfirend's attempts at commitment, Iris Lockhart receives a stunning phone call: Her great-aunt Esme, whom she never knew existed, is being released from Cauldstone Hospitalâ??â??where she has been locked away for more than 61 years. Iris's grandmother Kitty always claimed to be an only child. But Esme's papers prove she is Kitty's sister, and Iris can see the shadow of her dead father in Esme's face. Esme has been labeled harmlessâ??â??sane enough to coexist with the rest of the world. But she's still basically a stranger, a family member never mentioned by the family, and one who is sure to bring life-altering secrets with her when she leaves the ward. If Iris takes her in, what dangerous truths might she inherit? Exposing the seedy past of Victorian asylums, the oppression of family secrets, and the way truth can change everything, The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox will haunt you long past its f
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La novel·la m'ha enganxat completament. Les veus de les tres dones, les seves reflexions encreuades que van teixint de mica en mica tot el tapÃs m'han captivat. (