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In a novel of love, family inheritance, and desperation, the author offers a fictional account of Virginia Woolf's last days and her friendship with a poet living in his mother's shadow.
J'étais sortie bouleversée du film, que j'avais trouvé très sensible Quelle surprise de réaliser qu'un film qui parle tellement des femmes (et tellement bien à mon idée) soit inspiré d'un livre écrit par un homme! hé oui, j'ai cet a priori un peu bête qu'une femme est la plus à même de causer (bien) des femmes et de leurs sentiments. C'est donc avec curiosité (comment le livre a-t-il été retranscrit?) et recueillement (c'est le Livre qui a inspiré le Film!) que je me suis jetée sur le roman. Et je n'ai pas été déçue. Trois univers, trois femmes aux destins bien différents, qui viennent en contrepoint les unes des autres, apportent une richesse, une beauté, une sensibilité certaine à l'ensemble, ça fait pas mal réfléchir sur la situation de la femme dans nos sociétés, la façon dont cette situation a évolué, ou pas, ça fait surtout beaucoup de sensibilité, ces récits de 3 vies... ( )
Cunningham gives you every chance to hear his echoes of Woolf's style: the whimsical similes, the rueful parentheses, the luminous circumstantial detail. And the narrative method is a homage to Woolf's novel. Each section imitates Mrs Dalloway by being restricted to the events of a single day, and follows the stream of one consciousness, only to leave it, for a sentence or a paragraph, for another....Imitation is fitting because Woolf's original novel was trying to do justice to the sharpness of new experience, even as it detonates old memories, and this endeavour is always worth trying afresh.
We don't have to read ''Mrs. Dalloway'' before we can read ''The Hours,'' and no amount of pedantic comparison-hunting will help us understand it if we don't understand it already. But the connections between the two books, after the initial, perhaps overelaborate laying out of repetitions and divergences, are so rich and subtle and offbeat that not to read ''Mrs. Dalloway'' after we've read ''The Hours'' seems like a horrible denial of a readily available pleasure -- as if we were to leave a concert just when the variations were getting interesting.
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
We'll hunt for a third tiger now, but like the others this one too will be a form of what I dream, a structure of words, and not the flesh and bone tiger that beyond all myths paces the earth. I know these things quite well, yet nonetheless some force keeps driving me in the vague, unreasonable, and ancient quest, and I go on pursuing through the hours another tiger, the beast not found in verse. - J.L. Borges, The Other Tiger, 1960
I have no time to describe my plans. I should say a good deal about The Hours, and my discovery; how I dig out beautiful caves behind my characters; I think that gives exactly what I want; humanity, humour, depth. The idea is that the caves shall connect, and each comes to daylight at the present moment. - Virginia Wolf, in her diary, August 30, 1923
Dédicace
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
This book is for Ken Corbett
Premiers mots
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
Sie hastet aus dem Haus, wirft einen für die Witterung zu schweren Mantel über: 1941.
She hurries from the house, wearing a coat too heavy for the weather. It is 1941.
Citations
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
"We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep–it's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out of windows or drown themselves or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us, the vast majority, are slowly devoured by some disease or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so."
What a thrill, what a shock, to be alive on a morning in June, prosperous, almost scandalously privileged, with a simple errand to run.
It had seemed like the beginning of happiness, and Clarissa is still sometimes shocked, more than thirty years later, to realize that it was happiness; that the entire experience lay in a kiss and a walk, the anticipation of dinner and a book...What lives undimmed in Clarissa's mind more than three decades later is a kiss at dusk on a patch of dead grass, and a walk around a pond as mosquitoes droned in the darkening air. There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more. Now she knows: That was the moment, right then. There has been no other.
Clarissa dislikes arrangements. She prefers flowers to look as if they've just arrived, in armloads, from the fields.
Virginia thinks of Leonard frowning over the proofs, intent on scouring away not only the setting errors but whatever taint of mediocrity errors imply.
The cake is sweet and touching in its heartfelt, agonizingly sincere discrepancy between ambition and facility.
how it must feel to be a ghost ... a little like reading - that same sensation of knowing people, settings, situations, without playing any particular part beyond that of the willing observer.
the way a painter might brush a final line of colour onto a painting and save it from incoherence; the way a writer might set down the line that brings to light the submerged patterns and symmetry in the drama.
Derniers mots
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
In a novel of love, family inheritance, and desperation, the author offers a fictional account of Virginia Woolf's last days and her friendship with a poet living in his mother's shadow.
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Quelle surprise de réaliser qu'un film qui parle tellement des femmes (et tellement bien à mon idée) soit inspiré d'un livre écrit par un homme! hé oui, j'ai cet a priori un peu bête qu'une femme est la plus à même de causer (bien) des femmes et de leurs sentiments. C'est donc avec curiosité (comment le livre a-t-il été retranscrit?) et recueillement (c'est le Livre qui a inspiré le Film!) que je me suis jetée sur le roman. Et je n'ai pas été déçue.
Trois univers, trois femmes aux destins bien différents, qui viennent en contrepoint les unes des autres, apportent une richesse, une beauté, une sensibilité certaine à l'ensemble, ça fait pas mal réfléchir sur la situation de la femme dans nos sociétés, la façon dont cette situation a évolué, ou pas, ça fait surtout beaucoup de sensibilité, ces récits de 3 vies... (