Aquest lloc utilitza galetes per a oferir els nostres serveis, millorar el desenvolupament, per a anàlisis i (si no has iniciat la sessió) per a publicitat. Utilitzant LibraryThing acceptes que has llegit i entès els nostres Termes de servei i política de privacitat. L'ús que facis del lloc i dels seus serveis està subjecte a aquestes polítiques i termes.
Lucy Barton is recovering slowly from what should have been a simple operation. Her mother, to whom she hasn't spoken for many years, comes to see her. Gentle gossip about people from Lucy's childhood in Amgash, Illinois, seems to reconnect them, but just below the surface lay the tension and longing that have informed every aspect of Lucy's life: her escape from her troubled family, her desire to become a writer, her marriage, her love for her two daughters. Knitting this powerful narrative together is the brilliant storytelling voice of Lucy herself: keenly observant, deeply human, and truly unforgettable.… (més)
I can't understand how a mother and a daughter are not in touch very often, except if they hate each other (which it is not the case in the novel). Although the protagonist is hurt by a very difficult (poor and abused) childhood and maybe she wants to forget it (understandable), but to leave out all your past, and, what's more, to leave behind all your family if you have had better luck, is it fair? to the other side, when your daughter is in the hospital, can you leave her there, only because you have enough? In Catalonia, this is not believable; for us, our family is first. For me, this is not the best novel of E. Strout, although I usually love them. ( )
En una habitación de hospital en pleno centro de Manhattan, delante del iluminado edificio Chrysler, cuyo perfil se recorta al otro lado de la ventana, dos mujeres hablan sin descanso durante cinco días y cinco noches. Hace muchos años que no se ven, pero el flujo de su conversación parece capaz de detener el tiempo y silenciar el ruido ensordecedor de todo lo que no se dice. En esa habitación de hospital, durante cinco días y cinco noches, las dos mujeres son en realidad algo muy antiguo, peligroso e intenso: una madre y una hija que recuerdan lo mucho que se aman.
I was in Lucy Barton’s head from the very first page.
It’s rare when this happens – when the words of a book hypnotize you. The experience doesn’t feel like reading at all. It’s like falling into someone else’s consciousness...Strout’s skill in channelling Lucy’s voice is breathtaking, especially considering it’s the first time the bestselling author of Olive Kitteridge and The Burgess Boys has written a novel in the first person....This ability to love life, to notice small kindnesses, to remember the light in the sky and across the fields rather than the horrors of her childhood home, is Lucy’s salvation.
It is what we allow ourselves to see that helps us survive.
My Name Is Lucy Barton confirms Strout as a powerful storyteller immersed in the nuances of human relationships, weaving family tapestries with compassion, wisdom and insight. If she hadn’t already won the Pulitzer for Olive Kitteridge, this new novel would surely be a contender.
Hi va haver una vegada, ara ja fa molts anys, que vaig haver d'estar ingressada a l'hospital gairebé nou setmanes.
Citacions
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
Whatever we call it, I think it's the lowest part of who we are, this need to find someone else to put down. (52%)
Sarah Payne, the day she told us to go to the page without judgement, reminded us that we never knew, and never would know, what it would be like to understand another person fully.
"You will have only one story," she had said. "You'll write your story many ways. Don't ever worry about story. You have only one." (77%)
I feel that people may not understand that my mother could never say the words I love you. I feel that people may not understand: It was all right.
Telling a lie and wasting food were always things to be punished for.
There are elements that determine paths taken, and we can seldom find them or point to them accurately, but I have sometimes thought how I would stay late at school, where it was warm, just to be warm.
I think he was too shy at first to hug me, so I hugged him, and imagined the warmth of his hand against the back of my head.
At times these days I think of the way the sun would set on the farmland around our small house in the autumn. A view of the horizon, the whole entire circle of it, if you turned, the sun setting behind you, the sky in front becoming pink and soft, then slightly blue again, as though it could not stop going on in its beauty, then the land closest to the setting sun would get dark, almost black against the orange line of horizon, but if you turn around, the land is still available to the eye with such softness, the few trees, the quiet fields of cover crops already turned, and the sky lingering, lingering, then finally dark. As though the soul can be quiet for those moments.
One can be ready to give up the children one always wanted, one can be ready to withstand remarks about one's past or one's clothes, but then -- a tiny remark and the soul deflates and says: "Oh." (16%)
Lonely was the first flavor I tasted in my life, and it was always there, hidden inside the crevices of my mouth, reminding me. (24%)
Once in a while I see a child crying with the deepest of desperation and I think it is one of the truest sounds a child can make. (34%)
There is this constant judgement in this world: How are we going to make sure we do not feel inferior to another? (44%)
This is a story about a mother who loves her daughter. Imperfectly. Because we all love imperfectly. (58%)
I kept thinking how the five of us had had a really unhealthy family, but I saw then too how our roots were twisted so tenaciously around another's hearts. (89%)
... I will grab myself and hurl onward through life, blind as a bat, but on I go! This is the ruthlessness, I think. (93%)
But I think I know so well the pain we children clutch to our chest, how it lasts our whole lifetime,with longing solarge you can't even weep. We hold it tight, we do, with each seizure of the beating heart. This is mine, this is mine, this is mine. (98%)
Darreres paraules
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
Lucy Barton is recovering slowly from what should have been a simple operation. Her mother, to whom she hasn't spoken for many years, comes to see her. Gentle gossip about people from Lucy's childhood in Amgash, Illinois, seems to reconnect them, but just below the surface lay the tension and longing that have informed every aspect of Lucy's life: her escape from her troubled family, her desire to become a writer, her marriage, her love for her two daughters. Knitting this powerful narrative together is the brilliant storytelling voice of Lucy herself: keenly observant, deeply human, and truly unforgettable.
)
)
Google Books — S'està carregant…
2