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3.7 AVERAGE
3.7 AVERAGE
“On Friday noon, July the twentieth, 1714, the finest bridge in all Peru broke and precipitated five travellers into the gulf below.”
So starts this gem of a quick novel. Brother Juniper was about to cross that same bridge when it collapsed killing 5 random people. In this novel, he explores each person's life and wonders whether the tragedy was part of God's plan for these five people or if they just happened to be at the right place at the wrong time. Five random people, with lives, loves and stories are succinctly explored with no tight, neat ending. No strong conclusions.
“But soon we shall die and all memory of these five will have left the earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”
So starts this gem of a quick novel. Brother Juniper was about to cross that same bridge when it collapsed killing 5 random people. In this novel, he explores each person's life and wonders whether the tragedy was part of God's plan for these five people or if they just happened to be at the right place at the wrong time. Five random people, with lives, loves and stories are succinctly explored with no tight, neat ending. No strong conclusions.
“But soon we shall die and all memory of these five will have left the earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”
This is a short book about the separate lives of five people who are killed in an accident when a bridge in 1714 Peru breaks. A Catholic monk just barely avoids being amongst the five, and decides to attempt investigating the reason for their deaths. Why did he arrive a few moments later? Why those five people in particular? Was it coincidence, or divine intervention?
His search leads him to look into each of their lives, and "The Bridge of San Luis Rey" chronicles their both commonplace and extraordinary events, each chapter about the five people ending in what led them to traveling over the bridge that day, and ultimately their deaths.
This simply written, concise little story is to the point yet still eloquent and subtly poetic. Highly insightful, sensitive, and inquisitively philosophical.
I liked this book that searched the topic of death in a meaningful, unique manner.
His search leads him to look into each of their lives, and "The Bridge of San Luis Rey" chronicles their both commonplace and extraordinary events, each chapter about the five people ending in what led them to traveling over the bridge that day, and ultimately their deaths.
This simply written, concise little story is to the point yet still eloquent and subtly poetic. Highly insightful, sensitive, and inquisitively philosophical.
I liked this book that searched the topic of death in a meaningful, unique manner.
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
challenging
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Oh, I fought this book. It was soo much 'tell' and so little 'show.' OR so I thought. Wilder was setting us up, laying traps and connections we wouldn't notice so that, when he sprung his web, we fell in, like the poor travelers fell down. I couldn't read it quickly, for even tho it's a short book, his paragraphs and sentences are long and involved. Little dialogue helped us along. Poor Brother Juniper...just moments from stepping on the bridge that failed, sending five random people to their deaths. Even as he tries to find the connections, they are hidden from him. He's like the blind man trying to understand 'elephant-ness' -- can't be done. Why these five? Why now? As his investigation progresses, the reader sees what he can't: a new resolve in the Marquesa, an acceptance in Estiban, a hopefulness in Uncle Pio. And then the accident.
My frustrations melted into profound gratitude that I followed this to the end. It's the women, the survivors of tragedy and grief, who find the threads of the stories. And there is a deep understanding of the nature of life and death, of a person's life work...'The bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.'
How interesting, tho, that Wilder turned to writing for the stage...such a different style, but some of the same themes.
My frustrations melted into profound gratitude that I followed this to the end. It's the women, the survivors of tragedy and grief, who find the threads of the stories. And there is a deep understanding of the nature of life and death, of a person's life work...'The bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.'
How interesting, tho, that Wilder turned to writing for the stage...such a different style, but some of the same themes.
Favorite Lines:
Why did this happen to those five? If there were any plan in the universe at all, if there were any pattern in a human life, surely it could be discovered mysteriosly, latent in those lives cut-off. Either we live by accident and die by accident, or we live by plan and die by plan.
Some say that we will never know and that to the Gods we are like the flies t at the boys kill on a summer day, and some say on the contrary that the very sparrows do not lose a feather that has not been brushed away by the finger of God.
For such authors live always in the noble weather of their own minds and these productions that seem remarkable to us were little better than a day's routine to them.
The perfume of a tenderness, that ghost of passion which in the most unexpected relationship can make a whole lifetime devoted to irksome duty pass like a gracious dream
She hurled herself against the obstinancy of her time in her desire to attach a little dignity to women...Looking back from our century we can see the whole folly of her hope. Twenty such women would have failed to make any impression on that age. Yet she continued dilligently in her task. She resembled the sparrow in the fable who once every thousand years transferred a grain of wheat in the hope of rearing a mountain to reach the moon. Such persons are raised of every age. They obstinately insist on transporting their grains of wheat and they derive a certain exhileration from the sneers of the bystanders.
What she had lost as religion as faith, she had replaced as religion as magic.
Soon we shall die and all memory of those five will have left the earth and we ourselves will be loved for a while and then forgotten. But the love will have been enough. All those impulses of love return to the love that made them even menory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love the only survival the only meaning.
Why did this happen to those five? If there were any plan in the universe at all, if there were any pattern in a human life, surely it could be discovered mysteriosly, latent in those lives cut-off. Either we live by accident and die by accident, or we live by plan and die by plan.
Some say that we will never know and that to the Gods we are like the flies t at the boys kill on a summer day, and some say on the contrary that the very sparrows do not lose a feather that has not been brushed away by the finger of God.
For such authors live always in the noble weather of their own minds and these productions that seem remarkable to us were little better than a day's routine to them.
The perfume of a tenderness, that ghost of passion which in the most unexpected relationship can make a whole lifetime devoted to irksome duty pass like a gracious dream
She hurled herself against the obstinancy of her time in her desire to attach a little dignity to women...Looking back from our century we can see the whole folly of her hope. Twenty such women would have failed to make any impression on that age. Yet she continued dilligently in her task. She resembled the sparrow in the fable who once every thousand years transferred a grain of wheat in the hope of rearing a mountain to reach the moon. Such persons are raised of every age. They obstinately insist on transporting their grains of wheat and they derive a certain exhileration from the sneers of the bystanders.
What she had lost as religion as faith, she had replaced as religion as magic.
Soon we shall die and all memory of those five will have left the earth and we ourselves will be loved for a while and then forgotten. But the love will have been enough. All those impulses of love return to the love that made them even menory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love the only survival the only meaning.
So much thought provoking content in such a short novel.
I don't even have words for this. One of the most beautiful pieces of prose I have ever read.
challenging
reflective
I wrote a review....but clearly never saved it. How frustrating! Now this book has to be reread because I don't think I can recapture the feelings I had while reading it. This book was a truly unique reading experience. I wasn't captivated the whole time, but as I came to its end, I was deeply moved.