Книга вміло написана - читається неймовірно легко. Персонажі різносторонньо і цікаво показані.

Але... не те щоб мене захопило, якось воно так повз пройшло. Я не вболівала за когось, так само і не відчувала відрази. Все якось дуже рівно.

Ano passado eu li o pavoroso "Gostaria Que Você Estivesse Aqui" do brasileiro Fernando Scheller, um livro com uma premissa bem similar a esse, com personagens similares, mas que falha em todos os apectos ao se ater à uma visão constrangedoramente conservadora da realidade, que limita completamente a narrativa. Michael Cunninghan conseguiu registrar nessas páginas o sentimento de desespero humano por pertencer e se encaixar, usando o contraste entre o tradicional e o liberal não com intenção de criticar o segundo, mas para mostrar como diferentes pessoas, em diferentes realidades, reagem e se adaptam de maneiras diferentes, como não existe um caminho certo ou uma maneira certa de se viver, como não existe um manual de regras para a vida, como noções de lar, família ou qualquer outra forma de "pertencimento" é bem subjetiva.
Cunningham cria personagens extremamente realistas, que funcionam pois foram criados com todo o cuidado e respeito, que conseguem capturar e explorar toda a gama de sentimentos dessas pessoas a procura de criar um "lar" para si.
Esse livro é uma montanha russa de emoções, me deixou triste, irritado, confuso, e no final, por mais que tenha soado melancólico demais, eu me senti abraçado.

A Home at the End of the World seems to enjoy a healthy following on Goodreads. Total strangers repeatedly came out of the woodwork to like my status updates day after day as I progressed through this book, handfuls of them – thanks, friendly strangers! It didn’t take long for me to see why the novel would have such a draw or why it would inspire such a welcoming bunch to cheer on new readers.

As it explores the personal growth of a motley cast of broken souls, A Home at the End of the World successfully develops into a poetic and soft-spoken tale of acceptance. This is a book that celebrates human differences in their utter banality, making them part of an everyday experience while casting conformity to the wind. There’s room for fun in this story and a constant preoccupation with dignity, with Cunningham giving a voice not to monsters, not to radical eccentrics, but to approachable outcasts and dreamers instead. In this novel, we’re one drag queen away from an Almodóvar movie. Figure the feel?

At its very core, this modern-day fable explores leaving the nest and preparing one of your own. In step with the growth of its main characters, the novel itself evolves, its actual writing mutates, reflecting first the boisterousness of youth, then the novelty of chasing opportunities in a big city, and finally the more pensive and atmospheric reality of settled adulthood. As childhood friends Bobby and Jonathan both leave their Cleveland homes and eventually reunite in New York, the tone changes; it will change again when they end up sharing a house in the middle of nowhere – a home at the end of the world – with Jonathan’s friend Clare.

Even though she would eventually get demoted to a secondary role of little interest, when Jonathan’s mother Alice first got her own voice to air her doubts and regrets in seeing her son grow up, she made everything click for me in this story; only then would she recede into the background again, leaving a lasting impression. But that woman had changed my appreciation of the novel from that point on. She had ripped my heart open then left it there and walked away, her job properly done. I stood defenseless.

I expect to carry inside me for a long time to come the memory of a delicate, haunting mood that Michael Cunningham nurtured with intuitive talent and no shortage of beautiful words, in this first novel of his.

Каждый раз при встрече с Каннингемом у меня чувство соприкосновения с чем-то запредельным. Как будто жизнь с ее необъяснимыми словами интимностью и подводными водами одиночества приобретает одновременно и материальную и эфемерную ткань. Такое ощущение, что через океан живет и пишет родственная душа, такая близкая, понятная, давно тебе знакомая и прожившая с тобой большие и важные куски жизни. Это просто невероятно.

“ In un’ora così piena di neve che cielo e terra sono ugualmente bianchi”
Jonathan e Bobby. Due ragazzini legati alla vita da un filo di morte, che inconsapevolmente per questo, non saranno mai perfettamente a loro agio nel mondo dei vivi. E’ come se qualcosa si fosse staccato in quella perdita e li abbia portati in una dimensione imperfetta della vita stessa. Fanno fatica a stare a galla, in un crescendo di droghe che all’inizio sembra davvero assurdo (ma che forse oggi è quello che fanno i ragazzi?), con famiglie che non si curano di loro se non in apparenza.
Jonathan cerca l’approvazione di un padre che non lo vede, padre che per lui è sicurezza, bellezza e che piano nella sua vita si trasforma con il passare del tempo in paura, quasi orrore perché legato alla malattia, alla morte.
Bobby si lascia vivere. Ha paura di stare solo per quell’abbandono del fratello che mai supera, si attacca come un figlio ad una famiglia che non è la sua, cerca conferme e se ne va in giro per il mondo con gli occhi della meraviglia, silenzioso.
Alice, la madre di Jonathan è una donna incastrata in un matrimonio, che cerca un contatto con il figlio amato, ma troverà sempre una patina fra di loro, un velo a dividerli anche nei momenti in cui sembrano più vicini.
Un sesso che aleggia, ma che non è importante. Jonathan e Bobby fanno parte di un disegno diverso, una storia di tenerezze, di completezza che in due non possono raggiungere. Ecco perché fra di loro si aggiunge Clare. E’ in tre che trovano quell’equilibrio, quella pace che cercano da sempre. E’ nella piccola Rebecca che riversano l’amore che hanno, come se per loro fosse sprecato, inutile. Come se avessero bisogno sempre di qualcuno, o di qualcosa per essere compatti, un figlio, una casa: una comune devozione al benessere dell’altro.
Ed è ai confini del mondo, in quella casa già con una vita, che sembrano trovare la loro pace, la loro dimensione.
Dopo “ Le ore” ero curiosa di ritornare alla scrittura di Cunningham. Ho ritrovato quella sensazione di delicatezza, di attenzione alla parola, che scava, immagini che non ti aspetti di rara bellezza.
“ Compresi che c’era qualcosa che non andava dai suoi occhi, divenuti improvvisamente fluidi e brillanti come un fiume ghiacciato un attimo prima del disgelo, quando resta soltanto il ricordo del ghiaccio che persiste ancora per un momento o due sulla luccicante acqua marrone”.
Bobby e Jonathan sono personaggi a cui ci si affeziona, che vorremmo proteggere dalle brutture del mondo e vederli sorridere, per una volta almeno, nella vita.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7SI7...

RTC

Нам доводиться стільки всього вирішувати у тринадцять, коли ми поняття не маємо, як наслідки нашого вибору відгукнуться через десятиліття.

Каннінґем дуже красиво і делікатно пише, і ймовірно я буду читати всі його переклади просто через це. але самим сюжетам мені чомусь постійно бракує кольорів. ну чи то теми такі – ніби і цікаво, але не відгукується повноцінно

kijk michael cunningham kan goed schrijven en verhalen ontwerpen dus het was een mooi verhaal. maar het was zo gekunsteld dat het betekenisloos en koud voelt: er zat geen ziel en ook geen leven in.

Michael Cunningham escreve com uma profundidade emocional comovente. Atravessamos suavemente esta história pelos olhos de 4 personagens vulneráveis e realistas.

Um livro atual e relevante, sobre a complexidade das relações íntimas e os fossos que cavamos entre nós e aqueles que amamos. É difícil acreditar que Uma Casa no Fim do Mundo foi escrito há mais de 30 anos.

Um dos melhores livros que já li.


"Tínhamos vivido na vaga esperança de nos apaixonarmos por alguém, sem nos preocuparmos muito com o assunto, já que imaginávamos ter todo o tempo do mundo pela frente. O amor parecia uma coisa tão definitiva, tão enfadonha - fora o amor que destruíra a vida dos nossos pais. O amor conduzira-os a uma vida de contas e reparações domésticas, a profissões rotineiras e aos corredores fluorescentes dos supermercados. Nós sonhávamos com outro tipo de amor, um amor que reconhecia e perdoava a nossa fragilidade humana, mas não menosprezava os nossos sonhos e ilusões. Parecia possível."

Ģimenes ir ik dažādas - vienā mēs piedzimstam, bet citu vai citas izveidojam dzīves laikā. Kaut kā ļoti skumji, bet arī brīnišķīgi aprakstītas attiecības un dažādās ģimenes viena cilvēka dzīves laikā.

n  Directly after I've finished the book:n

THAT, my friends, is an excellent example of a literary fiction.

And it is not easy to rate the books of the genre.
They could be everything - from 2 to 5 stars.

Well, I have to decide between 4 or 5 in this specific case, but it won't be easier to write a review for it. The reason WHY I love literary fiction-it makes you not only feel, but think, think a lot.
Oh, yes, it can even detect our hidden individual talent for philosophy.

Now I'll go into my tub to think about...the fragility of life, the variety of love, the power of human bonding, the senseless of death, the significance of the moment and the solemnity of words...

n  I decided not to hide my review within the spoiler tags=>spoiler-freen:

Michael Cunningham is an extraordinary story teller. I was drawn into this multifaceted journey across years and cities from the very first page. I re-read some lines again and again letting the words slowly grow on me before turning to the next page. The writing is rich and compelling. I highlighted the half of the book.

The author takes us through the lives of the three main characters- Bobby, Jonathan and Clare- their childhood, families, their loves, lives, dreams, disappointments, losses, small triumphs, big changes, ups and downs. The trio would find themselves becoming major parts of each others lives. The relationships between these three characters between the late 70s and the early 80s are the core of the story.

This book is about friendship and family bond. And it is about love, that is so different in all its facets and appearances.
There is no rules for love, it is genderless and ageless, and timeless.

And because all my dear friends wanted to know if there is a HEA:
It is a very realistic ending, full of hope and mererly present and at the same it is an open ending - Michael Cunningham trusts his readers to draw the right conclusions about his characters - and this ending is melancholic, poignant and simply BEAUTIFUL.


My only complaint, a very tiny one - the multiple first person's POV. I would have given it 5 stars if not every character had his own first person's POV. In spite of the fact that this kind of telling is my favourite, I think the book was a bit overloaded with it. As the result -all these different POVs sounded very similar at the end.
It was always ONLY the voice of Michael Cunningham behind.


Highly recommended!


P.S. I'd like to thank Nick for a nice exchange of opinions about the book. It is this kind of books you NEED to talk about while/after reading it. It is a kind of book you shouldn't read alone.
It is why I love my GR friends so much.

"I'd only wanted to hold him for a while, to guide his head to my chest. I'd only wanted to hold on to him as his body went through the long work of giving itself up to the past" (312).

"What I saw was just the wind blowing. It was either the wind or the spirit of the house itself, briefly unsettled by our nocturnal absence but too old to be surprised by the errands born from the gap between what we can imagine and what we in fact create" (336).

Aside from some lite gender essentialism, Cunningham's novel was a 90s book about life after the 60s that felt deeply modern in 2020, as two men and a woman queerly fashion A HOME AT THE END OF THE WORLD. Cunningham's insights bowled me over on most pages, ranging from the business of opening a restaurant to watching a child grow out of and away from you.

Given to me by my friend Moira last year with this inscription: "Twenty-five years ago, my gay older bestie gave me this book for my birthday. It feels right to continue the tradition." May I be so lucky as to keep that tradition alive 25 years from now.