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in_and_out_of_the_stash's review
4.0
Evocative, ethereal writing by a daughter who lost her mother when she was 5. Lost not as a euphemism for dead; her mother is lost - taken away and lost to her child. Is she trying to find her in this book or reminding the world what a great writer her mother was?
This book was published in France in 1992 before Irene Nemirovsky became famous in the English speaking world for Suite Francaise although that is not her best book it's popularity has resulted in many of her books being published in English enabling new readers to enjoy her work.
This book was published in France in 1992 before Irene Nemirovsky became famous in the English speaking world for Suite Francaise although that is not her best book it's popularity has resulted in many of her books being published in English enabling new readers to enjoy her work.
pila's review against another edition
3.0
Quella della Nemirovky è una biografia particolare: si tratta di un libro scritto in prima persona ma le parole escono dalla penna della secondogenita di Irène, Elizabeth Gille. E' un aspetto che si percepisce immediatamente, per quanto Gille dia conferma del proprio talento, quello della madre fu sicuramente superiore e lo stile, in particolare, molto diverso delle due ha fatto in modo che la scelta della prima persona singolare non mi abbia convinta del tutto. Probabilmente avrei preferito un biografia classica, senza il bisogno di andare ad impersonare la propria madre, ma si tratta di un gusto del tutto personale.
Il testo si divide principalmente in due parti: la prima è dedicata in particolare ad una buona ricostruzione storica del periodo che va dalla fine della Grande Guerra all'inizio della Seconda Guerra mondiale con, nel mezzo, accenni alla rivoluzione russa e al malcontento popolare. Ovviamente si concentra maggiormente sulla visione ebraica della storia e quello che viene caratterizzato a dovere è il mondo borghese della suddetta comunità. Questa prima parte è molto più generica, non sono molti secondo me gli episodi che raccontano l'infanzia della Nemirovsky e soprattutto quel rapporto conflittuale, ormai noto, della scrittrice con la madre Fanny non è stato trattato a dovere; giusto qua e là si accenna ad episodi che mettono le due figure in contrasto ma mi aspettavo che fosse molto più trattato.
Stesso discorso vale per il marito: il salto temporale tra la prima e la seconda parte è proprio caratterizzato da quegli anni che videro l'incontro con il futuro marito; non si racconta praticamente nulla del loro incontro, della loro conoscenza graduale e del loro matrimonio. Si passa dalla ragazza spensierata e in lotta con la propria madre alla donna ormai sposata e madre di due bambine in lotta contro la patria che la tradirà.
La seconda parte invece l'ho trovata molto più coinvolgente della prima: la Nemirovsky ha lasciato Parigi per rifugiarsi in un piccolo paese lontano ormai da amici e conoscenti ma soprattutto lontano dalle voci che piano piano raggiungo l'intero paese. Mi è piaciuta questa figura che fino all'ultimo ha combattuto per le proprie figlie, nonostante anche l'abbandono di amici che mesi prima le erano accanto la sua speranza non è mai venuta meno e soprattutto l'amore verso il paese che un tempo l'aveva salvata non ha mai vacillato, questo mi ha colpito soprattutto di lei: l'infinito credo, l'amore per la Francia, un amore cieco che non le ha permesso di vedere la verità, quel futuro buio che le si stava proiettando davanti. Aveva la possibilità di lasciare il paese e partire per l'America dove il padre l'avrebbe accolta ma lei decise di fidarsi di quella che riteneva la propria casa, la sua nazione. Mai scelta fu più sbagliata.
Una cosa curiosa che ho apprezzato molto sono i piccoli frammenti in corsivo che aprono ogni capitolo: quelle poche frasi appartengono alla vera Elizabeth Gille e raccontano la sua storia, dalla nascita al presente della propria vita.
Insomma, questa è una biografia che mette a conoscenza il lettore della vita troppo breve dell'autrice ma che personalmente avrei apprezzato maggiormente se alcuni dettagli ed episodi fossero stati trattati in modo più approfondito; certo capisco che non deve essere stato facile con a disposizione solo i ricordi della sorella maggiore di Elizabeth e della non cospicua documentazione su Iréne.
Nonostante alcune mie perplessità è un romanzo che si legge volentieri, pieno di sentimenti e di una forte malinconia che traspare dalle pagine, è un romanzo che gli amanti di Irène Nemirovsky difficilmente potrebbero non apprezzare e che ha il grande pregio di voler (ri)scoprire ogni singola opera di un'autrice dalla penna poetica.
Voto: 3.5
Il testo si divide principalmente in due parti: la prima è dedicata in particolare ad una buona ricostruzione storica del periodo che va dalla fine della Grande Guerra all'inizio della Seconda Guerra mondiale con, nel mezzo, accenni alla rivoluzione russa e al malcontento popolare. Ovviamente si concentra maggiormente sulla visione ebraica della storia e quello che viene caratterizzato a dovere è il mondo borghese della suddetta comunità. Questa prima parte è molto più generica, non sono molti secondo me gli episodi che raccontano l'infanzia della Nemirovsky e soprattutto quel rapporto conflittuale, ormai noto, della scrittrice con la madre Fanny non è stato trattato a dovere; giusto qua e là si accenna ad episodi che mettono le due figure in contrasto ma mi aspettavo che fosse molto più trattato.
Stesso discorso vale per il marito: il salto temporale tra la prima e la seconda parte è proprio caratterizzato da quegli anni che videro l'incontro con il futuro marito; non si racconta praticamente nulla del loro incontro, della loro conoscenza graduale e del loro matrimonio. Si passa dalla ragazza spensierata e in lotta con la propria madre alla donna ormai sposata e madre di due bambine in lotta contro la patria che la tradirà.
La seconda parte invece l'ho trovata molto più coinvolgente della prima: la Nemirovsky ha lasciato Parigi per rifugiarsi in un piccolo paese lontano ormai da amici e conoscenti ma soprattutto lontano dalle voci che piano piano raggiungo l'intero paese. Mi è piaciuta questa figura che fino all'ultimo ha combattuto per le proprie figlie, nonostante anche l'abbandono di amici che mesi prima le erano accanto la sua speranza non è mai venuta meno e soprattutto l'amore verso il paese che un tempo l'aveva salvata non ha mai vacillato, questo mi ha colpito soprattutto di lei: l'infinito credo, l'amore per la Francia, un amore cieco che non le ha permesso di vedere la verità, quel futuro buio che le si stava proiettando davanti. Aveva la possibilità di lasciare il paese e partire per l'America dove il padre l'avrebbe accolta ma lei decise di fidarsi di quella che riteneva la propria casa, la sua nazione. Mai scelta fu più sbagliata.
Una cosa curiosa che ho apprezzato molto sono i piccoli frammenti in corsivo che aprono ogni capitolo: quelle poche frasi appartengono alla vera Elizabeth Gille e raccontano la sua storia, dalla nascita al presente della propria vita.
Insomma, questa è una biografia che mette a conoscenza il lettore della vita troppo breve dell'autrice ma che personalmente avrei apprezzato maggiormente se alcuni dettagli ed episodi fossero stati trattati in modo più approfondito; certo capisco che non deve essere stato facile con a disposizione solo i ricordi della sorella maggiore di Elizabeth e della non cospicua documentazione su Iréne.
Nonostante alcune mie perplessità è un romanzo che si legge volentieri, pieno di sentimenti e di una forte malinconia che traspare dalle pagine, è un romanzo che gli amanti di Irène Nemirovsky difficilmente potrebbero non apprezzare e che ha il grande pregio di voler (ri)scoprire ogni singola opera di un'autrice dalla penna poetica.
Voto: 3.5
perednia's review
3.0
Elisabeth Gille was five years old when her mother was taken to the death camps and didn't return. Her father suffered the same fate. She and her older sister survived when a German officer saw the older girl's blonde hair and told their governess they were not taking any children that night. The governess understood. She and the children disappeared.
Decades later, when she was older than her mother ever became, and although she remembered nothing about her, Elisabeth tried to see the world through her mother's eyes. That attempt is The Mirador. Her mother was the once acclaimed, then forgotten, then reclaimed, writer Irene Nemirovsky. In pre-WWII France, Nemirovsky was greatly admired for her novels such as David Golder, the story of a Jewish banker who loses, then regains, a fortune. Reactions to this novel and Nemirovsky's being published in right-wing journals before her death made her a controversial figure as well as a celebrated writer.
In The Mirador, Gille writes from her mother's point of view about being raised in a secular home of a rich banker where the tenents of their family's heritage were never celebrated. She imagines her mother coming of age during the Russian Revolution, moving back and forth from the gilded cities of Russia as that world crumbled and Paris. Irene is portrayed as preternatural, a wise beyond her years woman child who nontheless has no clue about how dire her family's situation is. Instead, she is wrapped up in resentment of her mother, who spends her evenings with varied men friends while her father travels the world on business, and her books. It is a lovely world, and the fact we know it will soon disappear adds to its poignant elegance.
After the revolution and her family's safe return to France, there is a gap in the story. Now it's 1942 and Irene has married and given birth to two daughters. Their neighbors in the village where they moved are starting to shun them. A daughter needs emergency surgery; one neighbor finally succumbs to human kindness to take the child to another village to find one doctor who finally agrees to perform the surgery, then immediately sends the girl back. The family will lose their Parisian apartment; relatives make one last trip to retrieve some valuables they can sell to live on.
First her husband's employer refuses to help them, then Irene discovers that her belief that they are safe because she is a famous French writer is false. The literary establishment that once embraced her as a talented young woman who came to them from Russia is as unable to stand up to the Nazis as the rest of mainstream French society.
At the end of each chapter is a short look at Irene from the viewpoint of her daughter years later, adding to the feeling of impending doom.
If viewed only as a work of fiction, The Mirador has a flimsy quality to it; its strengths are more in the way of capturing certain scenes such as wintry sleigh rides and helpless aristocrats trapped in a hotel rather than a tightly woven narrative. As a way to try to come to terms with a complicated woman's life and complicated outlook, however, The Mirador is an emotionally open work that makes the reader feel compassion toward its author and her aims. It also sparks new interest in examining all of Nemirovsky's works in a new light, especially her most famous, incomplete work, Suite Francaise.
Decades later, when she was older than her mother ever became, and although she remembered nothing about her, Elisabeth tried to see the world through her mother's eyes. That attempt is The Mirador. Her mother was the once acclaimed, then forgotten, then reclaimed, writer Irene Nemirovsky. In pre-WWII France, Nemirovsky was greatly admired for her novels such as David Golder, the story of a Jewish banker who loses, then regains, a fortune. Reactions to this novel and Nemirovsky's being published in right-wing journals before her death made her a controversial figure as well as a celebrated writer.
In The Mirador, Gille writes from her mother's point of view about being raised in a secular home of a rich banker where the tenents of their family's heritage were never celebrated. She imagines her mother coming of age during the Russian Revolution, moving back and forth from the gilded cities of Russia as that world crumbled and Paris. Irene is portrayed as preternatural, a wise beyond her years woman child who nontheless has no clue about how dire her family's situation is. Instead, she is wrapped up in resentment of her mother, who spends her evenings with varied men friends while her father travels the world on business, and her books. It is a lovely world, and the fact we know it will soon disappear adds to its poignant elegance.
After the revolution and her family's safe return to France, there is a gap in the story. Now it's 1942 and Irene has married and given birth to two daughters. Their neighbors in the village where they moved are starting to shun them. A daughter needs emergency surgery; one neighbor finally succumbs to human kindness to take the child to another village to find one doctor who finally agrees to perform the surgery, then immediately sends the girl back. The family will lose their Parisian apartment; relatives make one last trip to retrieve some valuables they can sell to live on.
First her husband's employer refuses to help them, then Irene discovers that her belief that they are safe because she is a famous French writer is false. The literary establishment that once embraced her as a talented young woman who came to them from Russia is as unable to stand up to the Nazis as the rest of mainstream French society.
At the end of each chapter is a short look at Irene from the viewpoint of her daughter years later, adding to the feeling of impending doom.
If viewed only as a work of fiction, The Mirador has a flimsy quality to it; its strengths are more in the way of capturing certain scenes such as wintry sleigh rides and helpless aristocrats trapped in a hotel rather than a tightly woven narrative. As a way to try to come to terms with a complicated woman's life and complicated outlook, however, The Mirador is an emotionally open work that makes the reader feel compassion toward its author and her aims. It also sparks new interest in examining all of Nemirovsky's works in a new light, especially her most famous, incomplete work, Suite Francaise.
jeanetterenee's review
4.0
Elisabeth Gille was only five years old when her mother, Irene Nemirovsky, was taken away to Auschwitz. She never saw her mother again, and had almost no concrete memories of her. She wrote The Mirador in the first person, as if she were Irene telling her own life story. The result is a work that often reads more like a combination of autobiography and history book than a conventional novel.
The book is divided into two parts, with Part I being the stronger of the two in terms of readability. Part I covers Irene's early life in Russia, the family's flight to France in the wake of the Revolution, and several years in France living among other Russian emigres. I've always been fascinated by the history of Russia in the early 1900s, so it was especially interesting for me to learn of the lifestyle and political leanings of her wealthy Russian Jewish family. I could see the parallels in the Nemirovsky family's plight with that of the family in Irene's short work of fiction, Snow in Autumn.
Part II jumps forward in time to World War II, when Irene is a married mother of two daughters, living in rural France. The contrast between her previous life of privilege and her wartime reduced circumstances really stands out. She seems to have clung to the attitudes of the privileged, not believing she would ever be a victim of the Holocaust because of who she was. She had been encouraged by her father and others to go to America long before it was too late, but she was almost scornful of those admonishments. I felt there was a stylistic change between Parts I and II, making Part II a little weaker in narrative flow, although certainly not any less interesting in the particulars of Irene's life story.
The most compelling writing in the book is in the snippets of memory tacked on to the end of each chapter, where we see Elisabeth first as a young girl and then a young woman, living a life overshadowed by the early loss of her mother and the subsequent trauma of the war. [4.5 stars]
The book is divided into two parts, with Part I being the stronger of the two in terms of readability. Part I covers Irene's early life in Russia, the family's flight to France in the wake of the Revolution, and several years in France living among other Russian emigres. I've always been fascinated by the history of Russia in the early 1900s, so it was especially interesting for me to learn of the lifestyle and political leanings of her wealthy Russian Jewish family. I could see the parallels in the Nemirovsky family's plight with that of the family in Irene's short work of fiction, Snow in Autumn.
Part II jumps forward in time to World War II, when Irene is a married mother of two daughters, living in rural France. The contrast between her previous life of privilege and her wartime reduced circumstances really stands out. She seems to have clung to the attitudes of the privileged, not believing she would ever be a victim of the Holocaust because of who she was. She had been encouraged by her father and others to go to America long before it was too late, but she was almost scornful of those admonishments. I felt there was a stylistic change between Parts I and II, making Part II a little weaker in narrative flow, although certainly not any less interesting in the particulars of Irene's life story.
The most compelling writing in the book is in the snippets of memory tacked on to the end of each chapter, where we see Elisabeth first as a young girl and then a young woman, living a life overshadowed by the early loss of her mother and the subsequent trauma of the war. [4.5 stars]
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