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epictetsocrate's review against another edition
3.0
Într-o superbă zi de mai a anului 1868, un bărbat cu o înfăţişare aleasă stătea răsturnat în voie pe enormul divan circular care, pe vremea aceea, ocupa mijlocul Salonului Carré din muzeul Luvru. Mai apoi, spre marele regret al tuturor iubitorilor de artă ceva mai slabi de glezne, otomana aceasta largă şi primitoare a fost îndepărtată; însă acum vizitatorul nostru pusese netulburat stăpânire pe locul cel mai comod de pe ea şi, cu capul lăsat pe spate şi cu picioarele întinse, bucurându-se din plin de această plăcută poziţie, se uita cu atenţie la frumoasa Madonă, cea născută din lună, a lui Murillo. Îşi scosese pălăria şi-şi aruncase alături micul ghid roşu şi binoclul. Ziua era călduroasă. Înfierbântat după mersul pe jos, îşi trecea mereu batista, cu o vagă sfârşeală, peste frunte. Şi totuşi, în mod evident, nu era el omul căruia oboseala să-i spună mare lucru: înalt, suplu şi muşchiulos, sugera o rezistenţă naturală ieşită din comun. Oricum, încercările din această zi fuseseră de un tip neobişnuit. Depusese adesea mari eforturi fizice care-l surmenaseră mai puţin decât liniştita hoinăreală prin Luvru. Căutase toate tablourile marcate cu asterisc în paginile acelea formidabile, tipărite mărunt, din Bädeker-ul său. Stătuse cu atenţia încordată şi-i ardeau ochii. Se aşezase pe otomană cu o durere de cap estetică, în plus, nu se uitase numai la toate tablourile, ci şi la toate copiile care prindeau formă acolo pe loc, împrejurul originalelor, în mâinile acelor nenumărate femei tinere cu şorţuri lungi, urcate pe scaune înalte, care se dedică în Franţa reproducerii capodoperelor. Iar dacă e să spunem adevărul, nu de puţine ori i se întâmplase să admire mult mai mult copia decât originalul. Şi totuşi fizionomia lui arăta îndeajuns că era vorba despre un om capabil şi ascuţit la minte; într-adevăr, stătuse adesea treaz toată noaptea, aplecat deasupra unui maldăr de facturi cu socoteli spinoase, până la cântatul cocoşilor de dimineaţă fără să caşte măcar o singură dată. Însă Rafael şi Tiţian şi Rubens reprezentau un nou gen de aritmetică şi, pentru prima oară în viaţă, îl făceau să se minuneze singur de propriile-i confuzii.
Un observator cu un ochi cât de cât format pentru tipurile locale n-ar fi întâmpinat nici o dificultate în a ghici ţinutul de baştină al acestui amator de artă candid şi, pe drept cuvânt, un astfel de observator ar fi putut face o ironică remarcă asupra perfecţiunii aproape ideale cu care individul întruchipa modelul naţiei. Gentlemanul de pe divan era americanul superlativ, afirmaţie caracteriologică susţinută parţial şi de impresia generală de degajată măreţie a bărbatului din el. Părea să aibă acel gen de sănătate şi forţă care, fiind bine conservate, impresionează în cel mai înalt grad – acea strălucire fizică pentru „întreţinerea” căreia posesorul ei nu întreprinde nimic. Dacă acest creştin avea muşchii atât de zdraveni, faptul nu se datora unui program anume. Când trebuia să meargă pe jos până într-un loc îndepărtat, mergea, dar fără conştiinţa că „se antrenează”. Nu avea nici un fel de teorie cu privire la avantajele băilor reci sau la utilitatea exerciţiilor cu greutăţile de gimnastică, nu practica nici canotajul, nici tirul, nici scrima – niciodată nu avusese timp pentru aceste distracţii – şi ignora cu desăvârşire faptul că în anumite forme ale indigestiei se recomandă echitaţia.
Un observator cu un ochi cât de cât format pentru tipurile locale n-ar fi întâmpinat nici o dificultate în a ghici ţinutul de baştină al acestui amator de artă candid şi, pe drept cuvânt, un astfel de observator ar fi putut face o ironică remarcă asupra perfecţiunii aproape ideale cu care individul întruchipa modelul naţiei. Gentlemanul de pe divan era americanul superlativ, afirmaţie caracteriologică susţinută parţial şi de impresia generală de degajată măreţie a bărbatului din el. Părea să aibă acel gen de sănătate şi forţă care, fiind bine conservate, impresionează în cel mai înalt grad – acea strălucire fizică pentru „întreţinerea” căreia posesorul ei nu întreprinde nimic. Dacă acest creştin avea muşchii atât de zdraveni, faptul nu se datora unui program anume. Când trebuia să meargă pe jos până într-un loc îndepărtat, mergea, dar fără conştiinţa că „se antrenează”. Nu avea nici un fel de teorie cu privire la avantajele băilor reci sau la utilitatea exerciţiilor cu greutăţile de gimnastică, nu practica nici canotajul, nici tirul, nici scrima – niciodată nu avusese timp pentru aceste distracţii – şi ignora cu desăvârşire faptul că în anumite forme ale indigestiei se recomandă echitaţia.
enoughgaiety's review against another edition
3.0
I need to reread this when I'm more in my right mind.
dvlavieri's review against another edition
5.0
It is important to remember that Henry James's later works (his "major phase") are very much the roots of "modern literature" (whatever that means), and should be read in the same way as Proust's A la recherche du temps perdu, Joyce's Ulysses, Woolf's The Waves and Mrs. Dalloway: which is to say: slowly savored. James himself was cognizant of this and admonished his readers to read only five pages a day (a challenge which I found impossible, but rather read in small-ish bits over each day). In Barthes's The Pleasure of the Text he advises (in reading "modern" texts as opposed to classical ones):
This is sound advise, suited perfectly to find pleasure in James's The Ambassadors - the master's, and my own, favorite of his works. There is a painstaking and almost painful subtlety to James's "major phase" (which is canonized in the present work, The Wings of the Dove and The Golden Bowl), a subtlety which was growing in power in his Portrait of a Lady but is in full force in Ambassadors. The sentences alone, little labyrinths, make the work difficult to read quickly, and foils any attempts to do so pleasurably.
The "Ambassador" is Lewis Lambert Strether, an American man from Woollett, a conventional but fictional Massachusetts town, where he is engaged to be married to the cold and absent figure, Mrs. Newsome. He is sent by Mrs. Newsome to Paris to retrieve her son, Chad, and recruit him to take charge of the family's mysterious manufacturing concern (the product is never mentioned outright, though it is alluded to as something insignificant but over which the Newsome's hold a monopoly). When Strether arrives in Paris he sees that Chad is happily engaged in a romantic relationship with an older woman, Mme. Vionnet.
The character of Strether is really the height of James's art. (An art which usually centers on the innocence/corruption of the female psyche, most famously Isabel Archer, Milly Theale, Kate Croy, Daisy Miller, Turn of the Screw's governess, etc.). In this work, James presents us, rather than a central heroine, a central man who is affected on all sides by a covey of women (this approach is foreshadowed in James's treatment of Merton Densher in Wings of the Dove) The three powerful women which both charm and control him are: Maria Gostrey, Marie de Vionnet, and Mrs. Newsome; Strether's nuanced relationships with these women constitute the web and drama of James's masterpiece.
Maria and Marie, two names very similar (derived from the Virgin Mary), play diametrically opposite roles for Strether, though he is enchanted by both women. To call Marie (Mme. de Vionnet) the story's "villain" is to misread the novel, and would be much too explicit for a work by James (she is the more nuanced, more subtle Mme. Merle, a la). The "tension" of the novel, is the tension between those who "know" and those who do not "know" (namely Strether). Mme. de Vionnet is in the knowing camp, she deceives Strether and keeps him in the dark about the unvirtuous nature of her relationship with the young Chad. She is certainly in love with Chad, or with her situation, and is passionately at odds with his returning to America. But to paint her as a villain is too black a lacquer for her; she opposes Strether, but she does so with something like love for Chad.
Maria is Strether's confidant, and Strether's growing affection for her makes his ultimate return to Mrs. Newsome that much more poignant to the reader. She represents the life that Strether could still have, as opposed to the one which he has now with Mrs. Newsome, and even opposed to that which he had with his son and wife before the died. She represents a freer life, one which has elements of European freedom of spirit, and also American values (honesty, etc.). When reading The Ambassadors I can't help but sympathize accutely with Ms. Gostrey. She is the book's closest thing to a Jamesian heroine, and Strether represents as much a salvation to her as she does to him.
The cold and absent shadow of Mrs. Newsome is cast far over ever nook and crevice of the book. Though she is 3,000 miles away in Woollett, her presence is felt in every motion and futile rebellion of Strether abroad. While Mme. de Vionnet deceives Strether, it is Mrs. Newsome who controls him. She is haunting figure, and one cannot help but see her as Strether's gaoler, imprisoning what is naturally a vibrant optimism and fullness of life, to the state of servant. The whole of his life is given a thin veneer of meaning by his association with Mrs. Newsome, but to that point, his life has no meaning for himself:
He values himself insofar as he is known for editting a small publication in Woollett - a post which he has not earned through merit, but by his amorous association with Mrs. Newsome. Furthermore, his errand for Mrs. Newsome to Europe has the salty taste of a business transaction, even moreso when she sends her daughter to check on his progress and efforts. Their relationship is so coldly economic, it is almost horrifying to imagine a man as potent and vibrant as Strether (as seen in his speech to Little Bilham) married to such a domineering woman, who treats Strether like an account to be settled rather than a fiance. Though the story is relayed exclusively from Strethers point of view, Mrs. Newsome is never referred to by her first name. The petit mort of Portrait of a Lady, wherein Isabel returns to Osmond, is often rallied against, but the Strether's return to Mrs. Newsome, to me, seems as horrible. We may hate Osmond and Mme. Merle for betraying Isabel's innocence, but she remains a strong figure; we must hate with equal, or increased, vigor Mrs. Newsome, who stifles the chance of happiness for Strether, which he is so expressly aware of, which he knows full well are within his grasp, which he urges upon Little Bilham, upon Chad.
"Read slowly, read all of a novel of Zola, and the book will drop from your hands; read fast, in snatches, some modern text, and it becomes opaque, inaccessible to your pleasure: you want something to happen and nothing does... the interstice of bliss, occurs in the volume of languages, in the uttering, no tin the sequence of utterances: not to devour, to gobble, but to graze, to browse scrupulously, to rediscover--"
This is sound advise, suited perfectly to find pleasure in James's The Ambassadors - the master's, and my own, favorite of his works. There is a painstaking and almost painful subtlety to James's "major phase" (which is canonized in the present work, The Wings of the Dove and The Golden Bowl), a subtlety which was growing in power in his Portrait of a Lady but is in full force in Ambassadors. The sentences alone, little labyrinths, make the work difficult to read quickly, and foils any attempts to do so pleasurably.
The "Ambassador" is Lewis Lambert Strether, an American man from Woollett, a conventional but fictional Massachusetts town, where he is engaged to be married to the cold and absent figure, Mrs. Newsome. He is sent by Mrs. Newsome to Paris to retrieve her son, Chad, and recruit him to take charge of the family's mysterious manufacturing concern (the product is never mentioned outright, though it is alluded to as something insignificant but over which the Newsome's hold a monopoly). When Strether arrives in Paris he sees that Chad is happily engaged in a romantic relationship with an older woman, Mme. Vionnet.
The character of Strether is really the height of James's art. (An art which usually centers on the innocence/corruption of the female psyche, most famously Isabel Archer, Milly Theale, Kate Croy, Daisy Miller, Turn of the Screw's governess, etc.). In this work, James presents us, rather than a central heroine, a central man who is affected on all sides by a covey of women (this approach is foreshadowed in James's treatment of Merton Densher in Wings of the Dove) The three powerful women which both charm and control him are: Maria Gostrey, Marie de Vionnet, and Mrs. Newsome; Strether's nuanced relationships with these women constitute the web and drama of James's masterpiece.
Maria and Marie, two names very similar (derived from the Virgin Mary), play diametrically opposite roles for Strether, though he is enchanted by both women. To call Marie (Mme. de Vionnet) the story's "villain" is to misread the novel, and would be much too explicit for a work by James (she is the more nuanced, more subtle Mme. Merle, a la
Maria is Strether's confidant, and Strether's growing affection for her makes his ultimate return to Mrs. Newsome that much more poignant to the reader. She represents the life that Strether could still have, as opposed to the one which he has now with Mrs. Newsome, and even opposed to that which he had with his son and wife before the died. She represents a freer life, one which has elements of European freedom of spirit, and also American values (honesty, etc.). When reading The Ambassadors I can't help but sympathize accutely with Ms. Gostrey. She is the book's closest thing to a Jamesian heroine, and Strether represents as much a salvation to her as she does to him.
The cold and absent shadow of Mrs. Newsome is cast far over ever nook and crevice of the book. Though she is 3,000 miles away in Woollett, her presence is felt in every motion and futile rebellion of Strether abroad. While Mme. de Vionnet deceives Strether, it is Mrs. Newsome who controls him. She is haunting figure, and one cannot help but see her as Strether's gaoler, imprisoning what is naturally a vibrant optimism and fullness of life, to the state of servant. The whole of his life is given a thin veneer of meaning by his association with Mrs. Newsome, but to that point, his life has no meaning for himself:
His name on the green cover, where he had put it for Mrs. Newsome, expressed him doubtless just enough to make the world— the world as distinguished, both for more and for less, from Woollett—ask who he was. He had incurred the ridicule of having to have his explanation explained. He was Lambert Strether because he was on the cover, whereas it should have been, for anything like glory, that he was on the cover because he was Lambert Strether.
He values himself insofar as he is known for editting a small publication in Woollett - a post which he has not earned through merit, but by his amorous association with Mrs. Newsome. Furthermore, his errand for Mrs. Newsome to Europe has the salty taste of a business transaction, even moreso when she sends her daughter to check on his progress and efforts. Their relationship is so coldly economic, it is almost horrifying to imagine a man as potent and vibrant as Strether (as seen in his speech to Little Bilham) married to such a domineering woman, who treats Strether like an account to be settled rather than a fiance. Though the story is relayed exclusively from Strethers point of view, Mrs. Newsome is never referred to by her first name. The petit mort of Portrait of a Lady, wherein Isabel returns to Osmond, is often rallied against, but the Strether's return to Mrs. Newsome, to me, seems as horrible. We may hate Osmond and Mme. Merle for betraying Isabel's innocence, but she remains a strong figure; we must hate with equal, or increased, vigor Mrs. Newsome, who stifles the chance of happiness for Strether, which he is so expressly aware of, which he knows full well are within his grasp, which he urges upon Little Bilham, upon Chad.
pantea's review against another edition
4.0
okay so yes i did read this in two days but i spent basically all day with it. this book, and so far anything i’ve read by henry james, requires patience and openness. some of these sentences are fucking hard to decipher but once you do, and you begin to understand henry’s patterns and language, it’s so satisfying and beautiful and entertaining. this story was really cool. e.m. forster described it in the shape of an hour glass; everything is planned and fits, nothing is decorative, it serves a purpose and i just think people are too hard on this man and his work.
cdbellomy's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
alexis_hookedtobooks's review against another edition
3.0
This book was underwhelming for me. I read Portrait of a Lady a few years ago and loved it! So I was really excited for this book! But it was pretty boring! The main character goes to Europe on the request of his fiancé in order to bring back her son to America! She believes her son has become corrupted by a woman! So he gets to Europe and he realizes that he hasn’t been living much! So he decides to abandon his plan and start to live a little! I really liked this finely! I liked the idea of getting out of your comfort zone and living your life to the fullest!! But nothing really happened. There was just a lot of talking amongst different groups and not really doing much! I’m still glad I read it, but not a favourite of mine for sure!!
arisbookcorner's review
2.0
IQ "It's not too late for you, on any side, and you don't strike me as in danger of missing the train; besides which people can be in general pretty well trusted, of course-with the clock of their freedom ticking as loud as it seems to do here-to keep an eye on the fleeting hour. All the same don't forget that you're young-blessedly young; be glad of it on the contrary and live it up. Live all you can; it's a mistake not to. It doesn't so much matter what you do in particular, so long as you have your life. If you haven't had that what have you had? [...] And it's as if the the train had fairly waited at the station for me without my having had the gumption to know it was there. Now I hear its faint receding whistle miles and miles down the line. What one loses one loses; make no mistake about that." Strether pgs. 152-153
What happened in this novel? I DON'T KNOW. I grasped the gist of the issue as to why Chad had not returned to America but I fear that I missed out on other character's and their story lines. What's up with Waymarsh (was he friends with Strether)? What happened between Strether and Maria Gostrey? If the subplots confused me, the language absolutely bewildered me. If the sentences had run-on less and used fewer words/better synonyms i might have understood what was happening. As it were, the language of the novel might seem very beautiful but that doesn't make a novel as dear to me if I can't understand what is occurring. It doesn't help that a lot of the action occurs off-stage so we simply have to trust Strether/the narrator and since Strether seems content to remain blissfully innocent, that doesn't help the reader understand any better.
I (obviously) liked the quote I included at the top of the review although I do think that it matters HOW you live your life, not just that you LIVED (you could consider living robbing banks but that's not the best way you could live methinks). This quote embodies the one theme of the novel I felt that I understood, one of regrets and finding one's sense of self renewed/changed in your midlife. That quote is addressed to Little Bilham who, though all the characters were complex and richly drawn, was my favorite because I actually understood his thoughts and motivations. I also found Miss Barrace wonderfully candid and between her and Maria Gostrey they helped fill in the reader/Strether. Granted they did so at their own pace, slowly unraveling the mystery surrounding Chad's relations with a mysterious woman. I also wish there had been more of a focus on the Parisian surroundings, most living seemed to occur inside, surrounded mostly by Americans. I can see that there must be some literary merit to this novel and since its James' favorite there really must be something to it, but it is not my favorite of his. So far that honor still rests with The American .
Another favorite quote: "'Why should she marry Chad?'
'Because I'm convinced she's very fond of him. She has done wonders for him' [Strether]
'Well then, how could she do more? Marrying a man, or a woman either,' Miss Barrace sagely went on, 'is never the wonder, for any Jack and Jill can bring that off. The wonder is their doing such things without marrying'" pg. 188
What happened in this novel? I DON'T KNOW. I grasped the gist of the issue as to why Chad had not returned to America but I fear that I missed out on other character's and their story lines. What's up with Waymarsh (was he friends with Strether)? What happened between Strether and Maria Gostrey? If the subplots confused me, the language absolutely bewildered me. If the sentences had run-on less and used fewer words/better synonyms i might have understood what was happening. As it were, the language of the novel might seem very beautiful but that doesn't make a novel as dear to me if I can't understand what is occurring. It doesn't help that a lot of the action occurs off-stage so we simply have to trust Strether/the narrator and since Strether seems content to remain blissfully innocent, that doesn't help the reader understand any better.
I (obviously) liked the quote I included at the top of the review although I do think that it matters HOW you live your life, not just that you LIVED (you could consider living robbing banks but that's not the best way you could live methinks). This quote embodies the one theme of the novel I felt that I understood, one of regrets and finding one's sense of self renewed/changed in your midlife. That quote is addressed to Little Bilham who, though all the characters were complex and richly drawn, was my favorite because I actually understood his thoughts and motivations. I also found Miss Barrace wonderfully candid and between her and Maria Gostrey they helped fill in the reader/Strether. Granted they did so at their own pace, slowly unraveling the mystery surrounding Chad's relations with a mysterious woman. I also wish there had been more of a focus on the Parisian surroundings, most living seemed to occur inside, surrounded mostly by Americans. I can see that there must be some literary merit to this novel and since its James' favorite there really must be something to it, but it is not my favorite of his. So far that honor still rests with The American .
Another favorite quote: "'Why should she marry Chad?'
'Because I'm convinced she's very fond of him. She has done wonders for him' [Strether]
'Well then, how could she do more? Marrying a man, or a woman either,' Miss Barrace sagely went on, 'is never the wonder, for any Jack and Jill can bring that off. The wonder is their doing such things without marrying'" pg. 188
smcleish's review against another edition
3.0
Originally published on my blog here in July 2000.
One of James' late novels, The Ambassadors is in some ways an experiment in minimalism. The plot is rudimentary (a rich woman sends emissaries from Wollett, USA to Paris to disentangle her son from an unsuitable relationship), background virtually non-existent (most chapters are principally dialogue), and the characters ciphers. It is only the interactions between the characters which are interesting - and even these tell us virtually nothing about them; hence the importance assigned to their meetings and conversations. It is an exercise in how little is needed to sustain a reader through nearly five hundred pages.
The temptation is to sit back and admire the technical skill with which this is done, on the small scale (the large scale structure is both rigid and simple - almost exactly half way through, the son is willing to return home, yet the ambassador has come to think it will be better for him to remain). I didn't find the novel very involving (though this might be because I was coming down with a fever while reading its second half).
One of James' late novels, The Ambassadors is in some ways an experiment in minimalism. The plot is rudimentary (a rich woman sends emissaries from Wollett, USA to Paris to disentangle her son from an unsuitable relationship), background virtually non-existent (most chapters are principally dialogue), and the characters ciphers. It is only the interactions between the characters which are interesting - and even these tell us virtually nothing about them; hence the importance assigned to their meetings and conversations. It is an exercise in how little is needed to sustain a reader through nearly five hundred pages.
The temptation is to sit back and admire the technical skill with which this is done, on the small scale (the large scale structure is both rigid and simple - almost exactly half way through, the son is willing to return home, yet the ambassador has come to think it will be better for him to remain). I didn't find the novel very involving (though this might be because I was coming down with a fever while reading its second half).
joannawnyc's review against another edition
4.0
Just about my favorite James. Definitely my pick from his late novels.