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4.06 AVERAGE
4.06 AVERAGE
adventurous
emotional
reflective
relaxing
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
There were many times during this novel, set in Italy during the 1930s and '40s, when I silently cheered the author for the efficient way she'd chosen to tell a momentous episode, the low-key tone and the few words used, where another writer might create pages and pages of text and not speak to me half as clearly.
That's it really. Natalia Ginzburg speaks to me. I like the spareness of her writing. In fact the spareness made me feel I could read her in Italian so I looked at an ebook of the original and I was able to read the first few pages. Admittedly, I knew already what they were about, but still it was an achievement, and it confirmed the feeling I got from the English translation, that she can say a lot with a little.
But in case I've given the impression that she writes in a very simple, short-sentence kind of way, it has to be said that she can write flowingly too, long sentences stitched together with commas that allow the reader to glide through them easily, never having to hesitate over the meaning of what they are reading.
But that's not to say there's no deep meaning here. A line of poetry by the Italian poet Eugenio Montale is quoted in Italian at one point, and it describes well what I'm trying to convey: ‘Che ha in cima cocci aguzzi di bottiglia,’ (There are sharp shards of bottles stuck into the top of the wall). Natalia Ginzburg's text is like that. You don't know when you're going to hit on a sharp shard that will cut deep.
The title too is full of sharp shards. I recognised its origin because my bookgroup chose to read Gabrielle Zevin's [b:Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow|58784475|Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow|Gabrielle Zevin|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1636978687l/58784475._SY75_.jpg|89167797] recently, and while I didn't have time (or maybe inclination) to read that book, the title seemed familiar enough to make me look it up. It's from Macbeth:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
All Our Yesterdays took me back to that verse, and I was struck by how well Natalia Ginzburg had embedded so much of Shakespeare's painful message into her story.
Was death ever so dusty and pointless as in side-switching Italy during WWII?
That's it really. Natalia Ginzburg speaks to me. I like the spareness of her writing. In fact the spareness made me feel I could read her in Italian so I looked at an ebook of the original and I was able to read the first few pages. Admittedly, I knew already what they were about, but still it was an achievement, and it confirmed the feeling I got from the English translation, that she can say a lot with a little.
But in case I've given the impression that she writes in a very simple, short-sentence kind of way, it has to be said that she can write flowingly too, long sentences stitched together with commas that allow the reader to glide through them easily, never having to hesitate over the meaning of what they are reading.
But that's not to say there's no deep meaning here. A line of poetry by the Italian poet Eugenio Montale is quoted in Italian at one point, and it describes well what I'm trying to convey: ‘Che ha in cima cocci aguzzi di bottiglia,’ (There are sharp shards of bottles stuck into the top of the wall). Natalia Ginzburg's text is like that. You don't know when you're going to hit on a sharp shard that will cut deep.
The title too is full of sharp shards. I recognised its origin because my bookgroup chose to read Gabrielle Zevin's [b:Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow|58784475|Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow|Gabrielle Zevin|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1636978687l/58784475._SY75_.jpg|89167797] recently, and while I didn't have time (or maybe inclination) to read that book, the title seemed familiar enough to make me look it up. It's from Macbeth:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
All Our Yesterdays took me back to that verse, and I was struck by how well Natalia Ginzburg had embedded so much of Shakespeare's painful message into her story.
Was death ever so dusty and pointless as in side-switching Italy during WWII?
Life's but a walking shadow
Natalia Ginzburg presents a chronicle of two families living opposite each other, in a northern Italian town, one slightly impoverished, the other rich. It's the 1930s, the fascists of Mussolini are in power, a new war is casting its shadow, but Ginzburg focuses almost entirely on the banal vicissitudes of four youngsters from those families (with a few secondary figures next to them). She does this in a dry, detached style that merely records. Fathers die, the children go to school or start working in the factory (as laborers or as directors), they have friendships and successful or unsuccessful relationships: it is all told without emotion. Politics and the international situation certainly are present, but in the background.
It is only around the middle of the novel that the story starts to gain momentum, not coincidentally when the war really breaks out and the protagonists are pulled along. But even now the style remains sober and business-like, in a continuous stream of relatively short sentences, descriptive, without dialogues, and again with subdued emotion; not even when really dramatic things happen towards the end of the war. The main characters just undergo what is happening, barely understand what is going on, have no control over their lives.
I'm going to be honest: already after 30 pages I had the urge to close this book. The writing style and the lack of an intriguing story did not really encourage reading. But I persevered, and only after about 150 pages this novel began to speak. Not spectacularly, of course not, but still. This is strange: Ginzburg has ventured an experiment with only antiheroes, a family chronicle without passion or fireworks. It was only after some searching that I found the key: at the beginning, Ginzburg posted a quote from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, beginning with the words "and all our yesterdays", which refers to the title of this book. Curiously, it are the very cynical lines that follow this citation, and which she does not mention, that perfectly convey the meaning of this novel:
“Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
When you read this novel from that light, the endless, consecutive sentences begin to speak deafeningly. So, in the end I was captivated, but I can’t say it was a top read.
(rating 2.5 stars)
Natalia Ginzburg presents a chronicle of two families living opposite each other, in a northern Italian town, one slightly impoverished, the other rich. It's the 1930s, the fascists of Mussolini are in power, a new war is casting its shadow, but Ginzburg focuses almost entirely on the banal vicissitudes of four youngsters from those families (with a few secondary figures next to them). She does this in a dry, detached style that merely records. Fathers die, the children go to school or start working in the factory (as laborers or as directors), they have friendships and successful or unsuccessful relationships: it is all told without emotion. Politics and the international situation certainly are present, but in the background.
It is only around the middle of the novel that the story starts to gain momentum, not coincidentally when the war really breaks out and the protagonists are pulled along. But even now the style remains sober and business-like, in a continuous stream of relatively short sentences, descriptive, without dialogues, and again with subdued emotion; not even when really dramatic things happen towards the end of the war. The main characters just undergo what is happening, barely understand what is going on, have no control over their lives.
I'm going to be honest: already after 30 pages I had the urge to close this book. The writing style and the lack of an intriguing story did not really encourage reading. But I persevered, and only after about 150 pages this novel began to speak. Not spectacularly, of course not, but still. This is strange: Ginzburg has ventured an experiment with only antiheroes, a family chronicle without passion or fireworks. It was only after some searching that I found the key: at the beginning, Ginzburg posted a quote from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, beginning with the words "and all our yesterdays", which refers to the title of this book. Curiously, it are the very cynical lines that follow this citation, and which she does not mention, that perfectly convey the meaning of this novel:
“Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
When you read this novel from that light, the endless, consecutive sentences begin to speak deafeningly. So, in the end I was captivated, but I can’t say it was a top read.
(rating 2.5 stars)
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
- A tale of two families set during World War II when fascism rose to Italy. I love how family dynamics is the core of the novel but the author did not shy away from writing about the moral choices that face ordinary people, when doing what is right is the human/humane thing to do.
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
A slow burn over 400+ pages that is quietly moving and gets under your skin by the end.
emotional
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
reflective
sad
slow-paced
This was such a nice read. I love the prose. It captured the intricacies of war, of life under mussolini's dictatorship, it almost felt like a narrated history lesson but from the perspective of regular people living their lives in a small town.
preciso fazer uma estante de livros sobre famílias disfuncionais tão bem escritos que, pro bem ou pro mal, te fazem se sentir em casa. (aquela citação lá de anna karenina)