Some truly remarkable passages were present within this work.

However, when considering the story as a whole, it unfortunately came across as rather dull and entirely foreseeable.

The narrative seemed to follow a well-trodden path, lacking the element of surprise and excitement that would have engaged the reader on a deeper level.

Despite the occasional闪光点 in the form of those great passages, they were not sufficient to salvage the overall experience of reading the story.

It left the impression that the author had perhaps played it too safe, relying on familiar tropes and plot devices instead of taking risks and exploring new and innovative territory.

As a result, the story failed to leave a lasting impact and ultimately felt forgettable.

I was truly astonished by the numerous individuals who spoke so rapturously about this novel. I did like it to the extent that I managed to finish it. Cheever indeed showcases a remarkable talent for singling out those significant small details that play a crucial role in bringing a character to life. However, on the whole, I felt that the book was overly long considering the cast of characters who simply weren't all that captivating.

The book doesn't preoccupy itself with the grand themes of life. Instead, it focuses on average people fretting about their children, their jobs, and their relationships. They encounter minor tragedies and equally minor victories, and life just trudges on. There is sex in the story, but while it might have seemed bold and risqué when the book was published in the 1950s, it now appears rather tame. It is described so obliquely that at times I had to go back and reread to realize that sex was even taking place.

One aspect that I did appreciate was Cheever's skill in delving into his characters' emotions by vividly描绘 the setting they were in. He could flawlessly capture a summer afternoon in New England: the gentle breeze wafting off the water, the soft rustling of the wind in the trees, and the sudden nip in the air as the sun disappears behind a cloud. He utilized these physical impressions to accentuate what his characters were thinking and feeling.

Although not strictly autobiographical, the book draws heavily from Cheever's own youth in a small New England town during the first decades of the 20th century. In many instances, the reader gets the distinct impression that the author is describing events that he actually recalls happening. By the 1950s, America had transformed into a vastly different place compared to his youth, and one of the prevailing themes in the book is the sense of loss, that of a simpler, more refined life that has vanished and will never return.

The book features its fair share of eccentric characters, yet none of them are outlandish caricatures. The women hold sway over the men, often regarding them as mere distractions from more vital matters. For the men, there is a sense of being adrift, meandering through life without truly experiencing it. This might have held particular significance in the enforced conformity of the 1950s, but it still strikes a chord today. It comes as no surprise that the book's two sons embark on the most conformist of careers as they reach maturity, one on Wall Street and the other as a civil servant. Each grapples with his relationships with women and eventually attains a sense of equilibrium. And with that, the book doesn't so much conclude as it sort of fades away to a close.

There are certain captivating moments in this book, and at times Cheever is almost poetic in his descriptions of places and sensations. But overall, for me, none of the characters were truly compelling or even especially interesting.

I found this to be a strangely discontinuous book.

On my second reading, I didn't enjoy it as much as I did the first time.

Interestingly, it contains a send-up of someone who might be Isabella Stewart Gardner, which I had never noticed before.

There's nothing inherently wrong with that.

However, I can't help but wonder whether Cheever had much affection for his characters.

Leander and the two boys are the most memorable ones, yet they all experience such outrageous reversals of fortune.

As a result, the overall feeling that pervades the book is one of melancholy.

It's possible that, like Waugh, Cheever is sharply satirizing all these characters as a sort of tease.

But I don't think that's the case.

The book is marvelous for its insights into Cheever's own life, but as a novel, I simply didn't connect with it on a deeper level.

Perhaps it's the disjointed nature of the narrative or the somewhat tragic fates of the characters that made it difficult for me to fully engage.

Nonetheless, it remains a work that offers valuable glimpses into the mind of the author.

After reading The Wapshot Chronicle, my list of to-read books from The Modern Library Top 100 has dwindled to only 16. If I were to remove Ulysses and Pale Fire, that number would further decrease to 14.

I then turn my attention to The Guardian Top 100, where I still have approximately 30 - 40 books remaining. However, I don't expect to find writers like Juan Rulfo or Elsa Morante among them.

Returning to The Wapshot Chronicle, I must admit that this is a book that I truly relished.

The Wapshot Chronicle chronicles the convoluted journey of two brothers, Moses Wapshot and his younger sibling Coverely, as they mature from boys to young adults and ultimately into men.

I was drawn to these two characters and found myself imagining being in their diverse and at times exotic situations. We accompany them on their travels to Hawaii, New York, several Army bases, and the peculiar, dilapidated palace of Justina.

Despite the occurrence of all sorts of strange events and "deviations," I would argue that this is a classic book. At least, it is a "classic" from my perspective - one of those books that I adore. It is strange yet accessible, filled with intrigue and twisting storylines, but not hermetically sealed or "difficult" like Ulysses, which I fear I may not finish in this lifetime, perhaps in the next.

So, there are two distinct types of card games.

The first type is the one that adults typically engage in. In this kind of game, each hand has a significant impact on the subsequent hands. You keep a score, and there is an ultimate objective to achieve.

Then, there are the games that are usually played by kids. In these games, each hand is completely independent. There is no scoring system, and winning a particular hand doesn't give you any advantage.

This book is similar to the second type of card game. If you're not truly invested in the hand you're playing or the chapter you're reading, there's absolutely no reason to pay any attention at all. This is because the following chapter or hand is an entirely new beginning.

I'm aware that this is a rather silly analogy, but it accurately reflects how I felt while reading the book. Half of the time, I simply couldn't be bothered and would have preferred to be watching TV. However, during the other half of the time, I was really into it. Chapter 8 was truly amazing, but it had no connection to chapters 1 - 7 or most of the rest of the book. Characters would just disappear without a trace constantly. I find it难以置信 that it won the National Book Award. Having said that, it's kind of like watching one of those eccentric BBC shows, with its wacky characters, odd situations, and nice set pieces.

Overall, the book has its moments of interest, but it also has some significant flaws that prevent it from being a truly great read.

Meh. That is all the emotion this book evoked in me.

I once read that Cheever was strongly influenced by James Joyce, and it is blatantly obvious here. And I don't mean that in a positive sense.

Cheever is clearly not a novelist. He is a short story writer who attempted to transition to novels, but this work is merely a short story stretched to about 200 pages too long. I was bored countless times.

Nevertheless, he is a competent writer. The book has a good flow, and he has a certain way with words. Sadly, that doesn't translate well into a knack for plotting. The book mainly focuses on character development, which I don't usually have a problem with.

I didn't despise it, nor did I love it. Instead, I simply walked away feeling completely underwhelmed and unemotional.

COMENTÁRIO

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"Crónica de Wapshot"

John Cheever

Tradução de José Miguel Silva.

This is a portrayal of a specific and characteristic part of American society. It is the portrayal of the middle class in a small town in the state of Massachusetts. It is the portrayal of a family that is part of the timeless elites of the community in which it is inserted. It is the portrayal of a society in profound change and transformation.

In this first novel, John Cheever, a prominent short story writer, shows us a skill in the use of language and narrative construction. A skill punctuated by some forms of innovation, such as the use of the diaries of the father of the family, Leander.

The portrayal I speak of is that of the Wapshot brothers who, out of economic necessity, embark on the search for employment, ways of survival, and of course, loves. The second part of the book shows this search, with Cheever presenting to us - sometimes with irony and humor - the inability of the two brothers from the countryside and rural slowness to sing to the inhuman and accelerated rhythm of New York and Washington.

Thus, Cheever constructs a story that involves us as readers and spectators of American society in mutation and of the way in which the personal life story of these two brothers is a paradigm of that social change.

Cheever was a wonderful discovery, an author who has been on the shelves at home for a long time...

First off, this isn't really the kind of topic that would typically interest me for a book. Waspy New England families from a bygone era? Ugh, it just doesn't sound very exciting.

However, it doesn't matter when the prose is as lovely and vivid as it is in this case. Cheever has an amazing talent for making even the most ordinary and otherwise boring things sound beautiful.

From the seemingly random doings of a family in a New England port town, many of the problems and themes that are universal to families emerge. It's quite fascinating to see how he weaves these elements together.

But then, out of nowhere, you start to see through the characters' mundane workaday lives and understand what truly makes them tick. Cheever never really spells it out for us, and he doesn't give us direct access to their innermost contemplations. But by the end, the puzzle pieces start to fit together, and you begin to see why everyone is alternately miserable and satisfied.

Perhaps he's a bit misogynistic, which is kind of a bummer. But I'm afraid it's fairly typical of the 50's, of which this book is a product. Even though my girlfriend thinks the ending is terribly depressing, I find it to be heartbreakingly bittersweet. Sometimes, that's exactly what I want from a book. Something that can make my heart soar and sink at the same time, and I think that's precisely what Cheever accomplishes in this wonderful surprise of a book!

I won't be the least bit surprised if, at some point in the future, I happen to reread this very piece and find myself completely and utterly in love with it. There's just something about it that makes me think it has the potential to have that kind of profound impact on me. That being said, I also have to admit that I think it's entirely possible that I could pick it up a second time and, to my great surprise, discover that I sort of hate the thing. It's that kind of book, you know? The kind that can elicit such a wide range of emotions and reactions depending on when and how you read it. It keeps you on your toes, always wondering what your next encounter with it will bring.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air. And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve. And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

Two brothers hailing from a nouveau pauvre family find themselves in a precarious situation. They must continue their bloodline or face the harsh consequence of being disinherited by their eccentric great aunt. This seemingly simple and straightforward plot serves as a fertile springboard for an Odyssean family saga. Cheever masterfully draws on modernism and the nineteenth-century novel, marrying them with a 50s technicolour melodrama sensibility. While his work is less focused on the psychosexual and more sexually explicit, the effect is truly stunning. The prose is both playful and experimental, deftly employing various tenses and points of view with purpose and skill. This creates a vivid world for the fortunate reader to inhabit. The long chapter centered on the crumbling Clear Haven estate and its batty denizens is a sumptuous Shirley Jackson-esque gem. Prospero's speech from The Tempest is used to great effect. First, it is used to lampoon a self-serious pedant, and then it transforms into an incredibly moving eulogy that lingers in the mind long after the final page is turned.

For a long time, there was a book that had been waiting for me in my library, and I didn't want to wait any longer.

"The Wapshot Chronicle", as its name suggests, is a novel about the experiences of the members of the Wapshot family. Father Leander Wapshot, and sons Moses and Coverly Wapshot are the main family members whose stories are told and come before the reader.

I read John Cheever for the first time, and for this reason, I don't know how accurate this comparison will be; however, "The Wapshot Chronicle" gave me the feel of a short story collection rather than a novel. Don't think that the book consists of unrelated parts because of this; however, from time to time, I felt as if I was reading a short story collection. Maybe because of this, I thought that the characters who found their place in this novel could have been the heroes of a short story if they were told this long in a novel. Because all the characters are interesting in their own way; but to be honest, reading them as a whole sometimes bored me.

The Wapshot Chronicle is truly one of the strangest books I've ever read. It's quite odd that it won the National Book Award in 1958. The only possible reason I can think of for it being considered a great work is Cheever's style. His sentences are filled with beautiful words like "bruit," "puissant," and "antivivisection," describing feelings and places in a way one could never have imagined. Maybe that alone was enough.

As a novel, The Wapshot Chronicle is fragmented, boring, and just plain crazy. If a film were made of this book, it would require the combined efforts of Wes Anderson and the Cohen brothers to create something that would leave the audience looking at each other and asking, "What just happened?"

The plot is extremely thin. The two young sons of the current Wapshot generation must marry and have sons of their own before the matriarch who controls the Wapshot fortune will pass along the family inheritance. We watch as Moses and Coverly are pushed along this path. But The Wapshot Chronicle is really a long exploration of male sexuality through puritanical, New England eyes, delving into the darkest and ugliest forms of sex. There's rape, unwanted homosexual attention, repression of homosexual eroticism, men using women for sex and then discarding them, men with insatiable sexual appetites, infidelity, nude girly shows at the circus, obscene carnal dreams, and a local named Uncle Peepee who lurks in the bushes and exposes himself. It also explores the deep resentment men have towards women who tease them with tenderness and then make them suffer with their unrelenting focus on the tedious, small things in life like tea rooms, gift shops, raising collies, and fretting over friendships and status.

Cheever tells us in these ruminations that while men are truly guilty of sexual transgression, they are also the ones who keep the sorrowful beauty of life moving forward through tradition. They do skillful things like sailing, fly-fishing, keeping journals, handling guns, fixing fuses, being prepared in emergencies, knowing how to wear a tuxedo, and saving lives. They also embrace bodily self-mortifications with stoicism. It is these men who, despite the silly, stupid, and disturbed women in their lives, give life meaning.

Is this a book for its time? Maybe. Towards the end of the book, there is a passage that seems to sum up both Cheever's vision and angst. He wishes he had gone to a school of love instead of the MacIllhenney Institute. He imagines the curriculum of such a school, with classes on the moment of recognition, lectures on the mortal error of confusing worship with tenderness, symposiums on indiscriminate erotic impulses and man's complex and demoniac nature, and descriptions of the powers of anxiety to light the world with morbid and lovely colors. However, he realizes that there is no such school. The Wapshot Chronicle is a bitter, messy, and ultimately failed attempt at examining the life of men without such a school, and perhaps a chronicle of Cheever's own internal struggles.