"Ia-ma cu tine. Vreau o iubire sortita esecului. Vreau strazi in noapte, vant, ploaie, si nimeni sa nu se intrebe pe unde sunt."
Autorul este cunoscut si pentru romanele "O casa de la capatul lumii" sau "Carne si sange", insa celebritatea a cunoscut-o in 1998 pentru romanul "Orele". Un an mai tarziu a fost distins cu premiul Pulitzer pentru aceasta scriere. A urmat apoi ecranizarea, cu actritele Meryl Streep, Nicole Kidman si Julianne Moore in rolurile principale, care a castigat Globul de Aur si Oscarul pentru cea mai buna actrita in rol principal. (Nicole Kidman)
In ceea ce priveste titlul, "Orele", trebuie sa stim ca acesta a fost titlul original al romanului "Doamna Dalloway" de Virgina Woolf.
Cartea de fata urmareste destinul a 3 femei diferite: Clarissa Vaughan - care traieste in anii '90, Laura Brown - din anii '50 si Virginia Woolf - din anii '20.
In ceea ce priveste actiunea, ni se descrie in prolog scena sinuciderii Virginiei Woolf. Ne aflam in 1941, cand intr-o zi Virginia lasa un bilet de adio pentru sotul ei Leonard, se duce la rau unde isi indeasa un bolovan in buzunar si se ineaca. Nu mai putea continua lupta cu vocile din capul ei, cu dorinta de a fugi la Londra, cu nebunia si psihoza care se instalasera din ce in ce mai mult.
Ne ducem apoi in New York-ul anilor '90 si o avem in prim plan pe Clarissa, care exact ca si tiza ei din "Doamna Dalloway" se pregateste sa organizeze o petrecere pentru un fost iubit al ei, Richard. Acesta sufera de Sida intr-o faza terminala si are psihicul afectat. Clarissa se duce sa cumpere flori pentru aceasta ocazie si se dovedeste a fi la fel de fermecatoare, profunda si complexa ca si personajul care a inspirat-o. Sinuciderea lui Richard este la fel de vie si dureroasa ca si a lui Septimus.
Pe de alta parte, ne intoarcem iarasi la Virgina Woolf si ne aflam in 1923 la Richmond unde aceasta s-a retras la tara pentru a lucra la romanul "Doamna Dalloway" si pentru a-si odihni psihicul. Se chinuie sa scrie, sa termine cartea, deoarece vocile si migrenele castiga din ce in ce mai mult teren. Tot ce vrea este sa ajunga inapoi la Londra.
Pe Laura Brown o cunoastem la Los Angeles in 1949. Este insarcinata si citeste cu mare placere si fascinatie "Doamna Dalloway". Casatorita cu Dan, un fost soldat si avand un baietel pe numele sau Richard, ea se gandeste la sinucidere, la parasirea familiei, la fuga de a fi o simpla sotie, casnica, mama. Crede si spera ca poate sa fie mai mult de atat.
Vietile celor 3 femei se intrepatrund minunat la sfarsit, naratiunea este fluida constituind o punte intre cele 3 destine, finalul fiind frumos si deopotriva dureros. O carte cu adevarat impresionanta.
Gandul cu care am ramas dupa terminarea romanului este ca toate aceste 3 femei au in comun o vointa infailibila: nu au dorit sa fie rotitele din marele mecanism al destinului care te obliga sa te invarti dupa meandrele lui. Au vrut sa se invarta ori cum vor ele ori deloc. Viata si moartea sa fie alegerea lor nu a destinului.
In inchiere atasez cateva citate care mi s-au parut foarte frumoase:
"Cu toate acestea, ea iubeste lumea pentru ca este necioplita si indestructibila, si stie ca, probabil, si alti oameni o iubesc, saraci si bogati laolalta, cu toate ca nimeni nu invoca neaparat un motiv anume. Altfel de ce ne-am lupta sa mergem mai departe, oricat de compromisi suntem, oricat de lezati suntem?"
"In zilele noastre, crede Clarissa, ii cantaresti pe oameni in primul rand dupa bunatate si capacitatea de a se devota. Uneori te saturi de spirit si intelect; toata lumea da mici spectacole de genialitate."
"Intotdeauna cartea pe care-o ai in cap e mai buna decat cea pe care reusesti sa o pui pe hartie."
"De ce s-a maritat cu el? S-a maritat din dragoste. S-a maritat din vina; din frica de a nu fi singura, din patriotism."
"Uite spiritul stralucit, femeia tuturor suferintelor, femeia bucuriilor transcendente, care a consimtit sa ia asupra-si sarcini simple si eminamente prostesti, sa examineze rosii, sa stea sub casca de la coafor, pentru ca asta e arta si datoria ei."

“Still, she loves the world for being rude and indestructible, and she knows other people must love it too, poor as well as rich, though no one speaks specifically of the reasons. Why else do we struggle to go on living, no matter how compromised, no matter how harmed?”

I’m actually quite glad that I didn’t have time to go to the movies in the early 2000s. My first child was newly born, and I was more likely to be seen pacing a room with a cranky baby, changing a diaper, or passed out on the couch from exhaustion. Hell, I had even given up trying to read at that point in my life! What I’m trying to say is that I somehow missed seeing the film adaptation of The Hours when it was released. Therefore, I went into this book with minimal knowledge of the plot. It was an absolute joy to read this; Michael Cunningham swept me off my feet.

“She could, she thinks, have entered another world. She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.”

I loved everything about this book – truly, every single thing! First and foremost is the sublime prose. The inter-connectedness of the stories between three women (Virginia Woolf, Laura Brown and Clarissa Vaughan -affectionately nicknamed Mrs. Dalloway by a dear friend) and across three timelines (1920s, late 1940s and early 2000s) is extremely effective. There is an overwhelming feeling that despite where and when you are born, our struggles are timeless and cross all boundaries. Virginia Woolf and her book, Mrs. Dalloway, provide the link between all three story lines. I have in fact read this slim novel by Woolf. It’s not necessary to have done so in order to appreciate The Hours. The only advantage I had was understanding the relationship between Woolf’s characters and those of Cunningham. However, Cunningham seamlessly weaves the writing of the book Mrs. Dalloway into the context of Mrs. Woolf’s section of this novel in such a way that you will do just fine without that prior knowledge.

“… she is again possessed (it seems to be getting worse) by a dreamlike feeling, as if she is standing in the wings, about to go onstage and perform in a play for which she is not appropriately dressed, and for which she has not adequately rehearsed.”

I don’t know how so much depth was packed into little over 200 pages. It’s pure genius. I know these women intimately. I shared their deepest sorrows and desperate longings. I ‘get’ them. This is not a cheery sort of book, no. We read about terminal disease, depression and suicide. There is the constant search for identity, love and happiness. Sometimes these things seem just out of reach. Often they are impossible to hold onto when we are lucky enough to finally grasp them. How does any one person make it through his or her day then? What do we do with what we have? Do we plow through and delight in those few moments that sustain us? Do we take extreme action and do the unthinkable? It’s remarkable really that we are still here and we still thrive. Life is a gift. If we hold those few extraordinary hours in a lifetime of ordinary days in our hands like a fragile bubble that could burst at any moment, then we are doing our best, aren’t we?!

I’m not ready to return this book to my shelf yet. I need it by my side right now, to serve as a reminder when I have too much time on my hands to reflect on where I’ve been and where I’m going. It’s a punch in the gut and a divine blessing snugly wrapped up in one little package.

"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."

First I saw the movie; then I read Mrs Dalloway; and finally I read the book. With this unusual order, I really liked it. But given that a lot of other reviewers seem dismissive, it's possible that Cunningham is getting a free ride from Virginia Woolf, Julianne Moore, Meryl Streep and Nicole Kidman.

Whatever the truth of the matter, and despite the fact that I did it more or less by accident, I recommend the recipe!

چند نفر از پنجره بیرون می‌پرند، یا خود را غرق می‌کنند، یا قرص می‌خورند؛ عده‌‌ی بیشتری بر اثر تصادف می‌میرند؛ و اکثریت ما را رفته رفته یکی از ده‌ها بیماری، یا اگر بخت یاری کند، خود زمان می‌بلعد. فقط این تسلای خاطر ناچیز هست: (ساعتی) این‌جا و آن‌جا که زندگی ما ظاهراً، به رغم همه‌ی غرابت‌ها و آرزوها، به رویمان آغوش می‌گشاید و هر آن‌چه را که تصور کرده‌ایم به ما می‌دهد، هر چند همه، جز کودکان ـ و شاید آن‌ها نیز ـ می‌دانند که به ناگزیر (ساعات) دیگری در پی این (ساعات) است، (ساعاتی) تاریک‌تر و پیچیده‌تر. با این حال شهر را و صبح را گرامی می‌داریم؛ و بیش از هر چیز به سهم بیش‌تر
امیدواریم. تنها خدا می‌داند چرا این همه عاشق (ساعاتیم). صفحه‌ 236

*****

هر چند خوش نمی‌دارم درباره‌ی داستان کتاب‌ها بنویسم؛ اما چون دیدم از کاربران فارسی این سایت، حتی کلمه‌ای درباره‌ی این کتاب خوب ننوشته‌اند، به اجمال چند خطی در پی می‌آید: داستان کتاب (ساعت‌ها) برگرفته شده از کتاب (خانم دالوی) نوشته‌ی (ویرجینیا وولف) فقید است. داستان درباره‌ی سه زن، در سه زمان و مکان متفاوت که هر یک علیرغم این تفاوت زمان‌ها، بر هم تأثیر می‌گذارند

ویرجینیا وولف در ریچموند انگلستان، سال 1923
لورا براون در سن فرانسیسکو، سال 1949
و در پایان، کلاریسا وون در نیویورک، سال 1998

رمان (ساعت‌ها) که در عنوان اصلی‌اش بهتر و عمیق‌تر نمایان‌گر جان‌مایه‌ی کتاب است
The Hours
نشان از معرفه و خاص بودن (ساعت‌ها)یی‌ست که پی در پی و پشت سر هم می‌آیند و در آخر وقتی نگاه می‌کنی می‌بینی این (ساعت‌ها) را یا بیهوده به سر برده‌ای و تمام تلاشت را در پی ویران کردن خود کرده‌ای

پیش از این درباره‌ی کتاب (آینه‌های در دار) از قول (ابراهیم) نقل قول کرده بودم که وقتی به سال‌های میانی زندگی خود رسیده است و بسیار کتاب نوشته و کلی تأثیر در پیرامون خود گذاشته است، می‌گوید: وقتی بشینی و مثل بچه‌ی آدم و بدون جانبداری و تعصب به زندگیت نگاه کنی، می‌بینی کلش رو باختی
و متأسفانه این جمله‌ی صحیحی است و ظاهراً انسان ساخته و آفریده شده برای این‌که ببازد. در این میان ـ تنها معدود ـ و باز هم تکرار می‌کنم ـ تنها معدود ـ انسان‌هایی هستند که می‌دانند برای هستی و دل خود چه می‌خواهند و آن‌قدر شهامتش را دارند که بهایش را نیز پرداخت کنند

*****

ریچارد: تو با من خوب تا کردی خانم دالووی
کلاریسا: ریچارد
ریچارد: دوستت دارم. این حرف کلیشه‌ای است؟
کلاریسا: نه
ریچارد لبخند می‌زند. سر تکان می‌دهد. می‌گوید: فکر نمی‌کنم هیچ زوجی پیدا شوند که به اندازه‌ی ما سعادتمند بوده باشند
کمی جا به جا می‌شود و به نرمی از قاب پنجره می‌لغزد و می‌افتد

صفحه‌ی 210

کتاب خوبی بود. فقط باید مقداری حوصله داشته باشید و کمی علاقه تا خوشتان بیاید و لذت ببرید. ترجمه هم خوب بود و در جاهایی دقت زیاد مترجم دیده می‌شد: مثلاً در صفحه 45 کتاب برای کلمه‌ی بلاثکث این خط زیرنویس شده بود
Velazquez
(با توجه به شکل ظاهری، آن را معمولاً ولاسکز ضبط می‌کنند که درست نیست. مترجم)
که دقت و وسواس مترجم حتی در تلفظ صحیح اسامی را نشان می‌دهد که برای من جالب بود و ارزش داشت.
و اما فیلم این رمان. انصافاً عالی بود. به نظر من فیلمنامه نوشتن از روی چنین ��تابی بسیار سخت می‌باشد. اگر نه فیلم را دیده‌اید و نه کتاب را خوانده‌اید، توصیه می‌کنم حتما هم کتاب را بخوانید و هم فیلم را ببینید. نمی‌توانم بگویم کدام را اول شروع کنید. فقط می‌توانم بگویم من از اختلاط فیلم و رمان بسیار لذت بردم. اگر کتاب را خوانده‌اید حتماً فیلم را ببینید و از دنیایی که استفن دالدری و بازیگران فوق العاده و دوست داشتنی خلق کرده‌اند لذت ببرید. و اگر فیلم را دیده‌اید خواندن کتاب جذابیتی جداگانه و از جنسی دیگر دارد. اگر هم فیلم را دیده‌اید و هم کتاب را خوانده‌اید خوشا به سعادتتان.
The hours (2002) 7.5 Meta:80
********************************************************************************
کلاریسا معتقد است این روزها مردم را باید در درجه‌ی اول از روی مهربانی و ظرفیت ایثارشان سنجید. ص 30 کتاب
حتی حالا در این عصر اخیر، مردها هنوز مرگ را در دست‌های توانای خود می‌گیرند و با محبت به زن‌ها می‌خندند؛ زن‌هایی که بستر مرگ را پهن می‌کنند و از جان تازه دمیدن در ذات حیات تازه از دست رفته در چشم‌انداز، با معجزه یا نیروی محض اراده حرف می‌زنند. ص 133 کتاب
و می‌داند که اگر- و هر وقت که- هیولا پیدایش بشود، یکسره تنها می‌شود. هیولا سردرد است؛ هیولا پچ پچی است توی دیوار؛ هیولا باله‌ای است که در میان امواج تیره شکسته است. هیولا بند آمدن نغمه‌ی کوتاه توکایی است که همه‌ی زندگیش همین بود. هیولا هر آنچه زیبایی و امید است از جهان می‌رباید و هنگامی که کارش به پایان رسید، آن چه به جا می‌ماند قلمرو زندگان نیم‌مرده است- قلمرویی بی‌شور و شعف و خفقان آور. ص 181 کتاب

Just leaving this little reminder here this time:

“Yes, Clarissa thinks, it’s time for the day to be over. We throw our parties; we abandon our families to live alone in Canada; we struggle to write books that do not change the world, despite our gifts and our unstinting efforts, our most extravagant hopes. 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.”

2019

I loved “The Hours” when I first read it (translated to Portuguese) in the early 2000’s. I also loved the film adaptation and watched it so many times over the years that I know parts of the dialogue by heart. I’m just like that, and if I love something (or someone) with all my heart I always come back. Always. Less risks of disappointment for being like this. If there’s love then it’s worth it.

And I love this book with all my heart. And I read it this time as compulsively as the first time. Cunningham’s writing is completely mesmerising, it speaks to me, it feels real and I love his way with words. I can relate to his storytelling, to his love for life, art and for all the precious, sometimes ordinary, moments we all have engraved, probably forever, in our hearts.

For me “The Hours” is Cunningham’s finest book. I still have two of his novels to read but I honestly can’t believe they could be as imaginative, as elegant and exquisite as this one. This is what literature as a form of art should be about, in my humble opinion. Oh, and how humble do I feel after finishing this book. Nothing I can possibly say or write will ever compare to this. Actually, nothing will ever compare to this, because this book, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly like those ordinary moments Cunningham always tell us about in his stories; They happen only once (and we know it) and that (we also know it) is what makes them unique, what makes them perfect.
And that’s what this novel is.
And that’s the way life is.

Perfect.

“The hours, always the hours…”

WHAT A LARK! WHAT A PLUNGE!

“But there are still the hours, aren’t there? One and then another, and you get through that one and then, my god, there’s another. I’m so sick.”

For those of you who have read Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway, THE HOURS is a good exercise of updating, temporally more than conceptually, the themes dealt with in Woolf’s novel: homosexuality, oppression of society (patriarchal, of women), illness (mental or physical), suicide.

To those who haven't read that novel (yet), it will probably seem a brilliant, quite perfect literary work – personally, however, I couldn't see much beyond the fanfiction.

Also, the Flaubertian description of everything, even of those details not necessarily related to the perspective or portrayal of characters, bored me a bit.

The pages of greatest tension are those that Cunningham does best, but if we were to examine creativity and documentation, well, let's say the author has chosen the most comfortable position.
It wasn't a badly written or shoddy book, of course, but I simply couldn't take it very seriously, because it felt far too similar to Mrs. Dalloway – to the point of repeating entire sentences and scenes.

And since I know this to be a deliberate exercise, I would like to interpret it, in light of the title, according to its temporal value: the rewriting and translation of these themes into modern times as a way to convey the haunting social issues with which humanity must and will have to deal sooner or later.

kesinlikle olağanüstü! bu kitap, bu yılın favorileri arasında olabilir. cunningham, üç kadının hayatını güzel bir şekilde iç içe geçirmiş.

ilk olarak, mrs. dalloway'i yazdığı dönemde takip ettiğimiz virginia woolf karşımıza çıkıyor; yazar, woolf'un içsel mücadelesini ve yaşadığı yoğun anları inanılmaz bir şekilde tasvir etmiş. woolf'un bölümlerini çok dokunaklı ve etkileyici buldum. sonra, ev hanımı olan laura brown ile karşılaşıyoruz; laura, gündelik hayatının baskısı altında sıkışmış ve boğulmuş. onun hikâyesi, toplumun dayattığı rollerin ötesinde kimlik ve anlam arayışının ince ama güçlü bir keşfi gibi. son olarak, new york'ta arkadaşı richard için bir parti düzenleyen clarissa vaughan ile tanışıyoruz; clarissa'nın hikâyesi hayatın, aşkın ve dostluğun acı-tatlı özünü yakalamış.

woolf'un karakteri mrs. dalloway ile olan bağlantısı güzel bir şekilde yansıtılmış. kitabın vermek istedikleri düşündürücü; zamanın akıp gitmesi, akıl sağlığının karmaşık doğası ve sondaki küçük sürprizler.. kitabı bitirdikten sonra bile bunlar üzerine uzun süre düşündüm.

I very much so enjoyed this. I’m not sure how to explain what appealed to me. Didn’t realize I was stumbling into a story about a bunch of said lesbians (kinda?) and now I wanna go reread mrs Dalloway

Update just watch the movie and realized the connection at the very end holy fuck

This book was very well written about the life of three women, moving from a few hours in the life of Virginia Woolf when she killed herself, to two other women who lived different lives and in different times. To me it was a very depressing book, but because the book had a profound affect on me, I rate it as a 4. Of course, it caused me to decide that perhaps I will not ever read anything by Virginia Woolf.

ای کاش نمیخوندمش...دیر فهمیدم چقدر روم تاثیر داره و نباید بخونم...آخرای کتاب حس خفگی و هجوم گریه بیچاره م کرده بود...مرگ ریچارد و تک تک کلماتی که بعد از اون نوشته شده بود...عجیب حالت خفگی و غم بهم دست می داد...
بین سه و چهار ستاره مردد بودم، ولی همین سه تا کافیه...چون حالم خوب نبود. بدترش کرد...کاش نمیخوندمش...

Michael Cunningham’s Pulitzer Prize-winning work, ‘The Hours’ details the lives of three very different women. He opens his narrative with a fateful day in 1941 when Virginia Woolf has decided to fill her pockets with stones and walk into the river. The scene is heartbreaking. Woolf is obsessed with probing into the meanings and mysteries of life. She is also fascinated with death, menaced with headaches and nervous instability. Her husband, Leonard, provides stability for her fragile nature and nurtures her creative spirit. But even his cocoon of safety could prove stifling at times, more a prison than a refuge. Cunningham takes the reader back to 1923 when Woolf, although struggling with her demons, was beginning to write Mrs. Dalloway. More than anything, Virginia appreciates and revels in those times when she can write with clarity and ease.

“This is one of the most singular experiences, waking on what feels like a good day, preparing to work but not yet actually embarked. At this moment there are infinite possibilities, whole hours ahead. Her mind hums. This morning she may penetrate the obfuscation, the clogged pipes, to reach the gold. She can feel it inside her, an all but indescribable second self, or rather a parallel, purer self. If she were religious, she would call it the soul. It is more than the sum of her intellect and her emotions, more than the sum of her experiences, though it runs like veins of brilliant metal through all three. It is an inner faculty that recognizes the animating mysteries of the world because it is made of the same substance, and when she is very fortunate she is able to write directly through that faculty. Writing in that state is the most profound satisfaction she knows, but her access to it comes and goes without warning.”

All of Virginia Woolf is primed for those moments, those hours of the day when she can write as though her soul has been called up and she can be delivered to the page. Cunningham’s description sounds like what many artists, writers, and creatives speak of today as “flow.”

The touchstone between Cunningham’s two other characters and Virginia Woolf is Woolf’s novel, Mrs. Dalloway. It is present-day in New York. Richard, who is dying of AIDS has always called his friend, Clarissa Vaughan, Mrs. Dalloway. Clarissa is a 52-year-old book editor and like the book character Richard names her for, she has to go buy flowers for Richard’s party. He is to receive the Carrouthers Prize for his literary work. Richard lives alone in an apartment in New York. He is emaciated, keeps the apartment dark and cluttered where he spends countable hours contemplating the value of his life, his work, his relationships. How can he tolerate these hours when he knows everything that will happen during the day?

Richard believes he is only getting the literary award because he is sick and dying. He doesn’t think it’s because of the worth of his work. Clarissa is getting some recognition because one of the characters in Richard’s novel is based on her. She is getting to the age when she thinks of her own mortality and what will be remembered of her when she is gone. I think most of us would like to be remembered after we’ve died, to think that our lives were worthwhile and counted for something. Every though Richard has complicated feelings about the literary award, he still wants it. Of Clarissa standing beside two young girls in New York waiting to catch a glimpse of a movie star, Cunningham writes, “These two girls standing beside Clarissa, twenty if not younger, defiantly hefty, slouching into each other, laden with brightly colored bags from discount stores; these two girls will grow to middle age and then old age, either wither or bloat; the cemeteries in which they’re buried will fall eventually into ruin, the grass grown wild, browsed at night by dogs;” Does Clarissa believe that Richard’s novel is her chance of being remembered, of remaining above ground when her body enters its eternal rest? I believe so.

The third character is Laura Brown. It is 1949, Los Angeles, and Laura is reading Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. It is her husband, Dan’s birthday. Laura prefers the book world of Mrs. Dalloway to the reality of taking care of her son and making a birthday cake for Dan. Because she is pregnant, she can ignore the clock ticking off the hours. She can stay up late reading, then reach for her book first thing in the morning to ease her transition into the day. Laura is enamored with Woolf’s writing. “How, Laura wonders, could someone who was able to write a sentence like that–who was able to feel everything contained in a sentence like that–come to kill herself? What in the world is wrong with people? Summoning resolve, as if she were about to dive into cold water, Laura closes the book and lays it on the nightstand. She does not dislike her child, does not dislike her husband. She will rise and be cheerful.”

I enjoyed this novel for its delectable soaring prose and for its insightful exploration of women's lives. Three women, unhappy in different ways, but all searching for a meaningful path. Most of us are searching for meaning in our lives and trying to align our priorities to make the most of our limited hours. When we read books, we are seekers which in my mind, is a sacred endeavor; yet even here (or perhaps especially here) many of us feel the need to be diligent and purposeful. Through reading this novel and articles about Virginia Woolf, I have discovered that she was influenced by French philosopher, Henri Bergson, who emphasized creativity and freedom rather than the mechanistic nature. So now, I have become more interested in Woolf and Bergson. Highly recommended except for those who are suffering doldrums or despondency, then avoid like the plague.