4.5
Būtų 5, jei vietom mano skoniui nebūtų per daug žodžių. Bet labai patiko!

https://knyguziurkes.com/2024/04/04/m...

3.75 ⭐
Galimai ši amerikiečių autorės knyga parašyta filmui, labai kinematografiška, vaizdinga kalba ir geras vertimas. Tačiau veikėjų elgesys iki galo neįtikino, jų transformacijoms pritrūko nuoseklumo ir pagrįstumo. Mano literatūriniam skoniui buvo per daug aplinkos aprašymo ir per mažai personažų vidinio pasaulio.

This book is about a large family, the Mulvaneys, living all happily and blahblahblah until something terrible happens to the sole daughter. Although the book is basically about this event and the aftermath, it takes about 100 pages to actually get to the plot. The beginning of the book goes on about the Mulvaneys and how wonderful they were, describing their house and its inhabitants with a little too much detail. Most chapters had this basic formula: Narraration of some memory a character had/an extensive description of what the Mulvaneys ate for breakfast or something + finally going back to the present in the last few paragraphs. I wanted desperately to give up reading this book and perhaps find something more fast paced, but after reading 100 or so pages to get to the plot, it would feel like I wasted all those days.

Despite the extensive explanations of the Mulvaney family, and what I thought were undeveloped characters (the narrarator, youngest sibling Judd, was always stressing how purehearted and "good-Christian" his sister Marianne was. Marianne was really a little too good and delicate and pure for a human being), the author's writing style was excellent. Unfortunately, the story line was not.

4.5 ⭐️

4 Reasons "We Were the Mulvaneys" was one true deep disappointment:

1) I had already given J.C.O.s my full endorsement after reading "Zombie", a speedier version of "American Psycho" and "The Tattooed Girl", also a speedy version, this time of something long and droll by the likes of Roth. This is a sad disaster. I take everything I said about her back & now I realize why some people stopped being fans altogether.

2) Speaking of speed- this "family saga", which is more like some episode in a lame, average, overly-self-conscious family's life, and the aftereffects of said episode (which--can you believe it? are BAD) is unnecessarily l-o-o-o-n-g.

[Don't also:] Read: "The Little Friend" by Donna Tartt. This much time invested in something should reap benefits, no?

3) I am ashamed to be seen reading anything baring the "Oprah's Book Club" stamp, but I must say that I am never truly deeply disappointed by the selections. (Some do manage to achieve classic status.) Until now. (Is this the very reason the club dismantled and lost the cred????)

4) You read a book to reach its conclusion, and the author's brave effort to astound is plainly seen. This book is skimmed at the end, when J.C.O. seems to be thinking about her paycheck* alone and useless detail is piled upon nonsensical minutiae, so so much--you just f###ing want to finish the f###ing thing! (Excuse a reader's blatant frustration)

I guess I will be more careful with my selections from now on. Yes, I still consider J.C.O. an author (prolific--if anything) who truly grabs my attention. I'm a sucker for a story, and when it gets going not even a considerably awful hypothetical slap to the audience by a too-cocky, too-disappointing writer can make me stop reading it altogether.

*ALSO, I WANT TO ADD THAT I WANT TO RESCIND MY PREVIOUS OPINION ABOUT J.C.O. AFTER "BLONDE", SHE CANNOT DO A SINGLE THING WRONG.

A pagina 487: "Non so che cosa mamma abbia raccontato a Sable Mills di papà. Della nostra famiglia. Sono incline a credere che le abbia detto pochissimo. Quali sono le parole giuste per riassumere una vita, tanto affollata confusa felicità che si conclude con un atroce dolore al rallentatore."
E' un buon riassunto di tutto il libro.
E Oates è maestra nel "dolore al rallentatore". Cominciamo a conoscerla veramente bene: un iniziale strappo, a scelta stupro, assassinio, suicidio, scomparsa comunque che viene a lacerare la favola raccontata inizialmente. Risaliamo poi, a controcorrente naturalmente, tutto il fiume della storia famigliare o individuale - ad un certo punto devono pur convergere - e le crepe inizialmente invisibili si allargano quando una scossa esterna irrompe. Le crepe c'erano. E' forse il modo moderno di leggere quello che è stato il nostro grande soggetto sin dai miti greci: il destino?
Inutili i tentativi di felice fattoria o famiglia modello raccontata nella parte iniziale del racconto con tutto l'immaginario annesso: gatti adottati, cani affettuosi, bestioline ferite che trovano rifugio nel cuore della famiglia retta con grande piglio da una madre tanto più amabile quanto imperfetta. I figli sono una piccolo esercito di quattro efficaci ragazzini, eseguono in squadra i lavori domestici che riempiono le giornate in una successione frenetica, la perla è la unica figlia. A lei succederà qualche cosa, e questo sarà la crepa. Il processo più interessante da seguire è la lenta discesa. Credo che noi spesso ci chiediamo come si reagisce ad una violenza, saremmo più forti? Sapremmo tenere assieme i pezzi rotti?
Qui no; la forza del racconto è di riuscire a mostrare, senza mai descrivere processi interni ma, come lo voleva Balzac, soltanto attraverso il racconto di gesti, comportamenti, azioni, scenari esterni la trasformazione del destino di ogni membro della famiglia a partire dal momento in cui nessuno, in famiglia, è più capace di vedere o di guardare Marianne, la figlia perfetta. Noi siamo portati dallo sguardo degli altri, ci viviamo e respiriamo. Il dolore finisce per essere più forte in colui che lo infligge che in colui che lo riceve.
La storia raccontata fa ombra sulle nostre storie; non è soltanto “americana” questa famiglia, è umana.
Peccato l’epilogo, questo sì, molto americano. Le grandi tragedie, greche o moderne, non prevedono ricuciture, riunioni, salvezza collettiva, quello è per i films…

Nors knygos pradžia manęs nesužavėjo, bet kokia visgi gera ši knyga! Pradžioje bambėjau, kad neįdomu, per daug smulkmeniškumo, bet istorija mane vėliau įtraukė taip, kad vienu prisėdimu perskaičiau ir po 200 puslapių. Puikiai išpildyti veikėjai, paaiškinti jų gyvenimo sprendimai. Labai pykau ant veikėjų, už tai, kas jiems tuo metu atrodė geriausia. Didelis ačiū ir knygos vertėjai Ievai, dėl kurios tekstą skaityti buvo vienas malonumas.

While the characters were written well and the dialogue was top notch- this books was unbelievably depressing.
Would be fascinating to see how the lives of the 4 children of the alcoholic father and the kind mother turn out after 20 years from the book ending. I could see the would be scientist who kidnapped the bum who raped his sister, turning out like the dad and drinkng himself to death while the marine would be a great person. The raped daughter got MARRIED which I found totally out of character as the violent rape messed her up forever to commit to anyone. The last of the 4 children was a journalist who would have never married and died lonely.

This was a 6 star book for me.

Really Early Bird comment: I really strongly dislike the current narration style. Pleh!

Basic Summary: "Perfect", popular, loveable Mulvaney family is adored by their town. Until, their only daughter is date raped on prom night and the town turns on them. Only it's much snootier and more boring than it sounds. All the kids go off and implode into messes, the Father becomes a drunk (not a spoiler!). I wouldn't call the book predictable but I wouldn't call it riveting.

The narration style drove me nuts and, I know, that is 100% personal opinion. There were dashes of 1st, 2nd and 3rd person narrative. Like someone dumped the storytelling into a blender and spit it back out. Despite the first chapter making it clear that the entire story is supposed to be narrated by the "journalist" youngest son.

Finished 8/28: I would rather have someone drop a brick on my face from a 3rd story building than have to re-read this book ever again. That being said, I know why it was recommended to me and the writing was pretty darn good and I may need to check into a different Joyce Carol Oates novel to test it out.

Final note: They describe the mother as a "graying redhead", which everyone knows is a rarity! Us natural redheads don't gray, we blonde!

Quotes:

1) "But I believe in uttering the truth, even if it hurts. Particularly if it huts".
2) "If nothing can cause such tears, what might something someday do?"

Main Review. Warning. This review is almost a spoiler from one end to the other. I would recommend this spoiler not be read if you are considering reading this book for the first time, and particularly if you are ready to start reading quite soon (so you will have no time to forget much of what I relate in the spoiler).You still have time to go back! Otherwise proceed to the following at My Writing … https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/...


The next section is REALLY a spoiler, since it tells how everything eventually turns out. Please be fore-warned.

Epilogue : Together Again

Corinne, who after Michael dies eventually gets together with Sable and is happy once again and pulls off the reunion and everyone is there except Michael and that seems to be okay. And we sigh with relief because we so wanted Corrine to be happy, maybe, well at least some of us, more than any other of these six characters because except for Marianne of course it has been Corinne who has suffered the most in this story, surviving in all probability only because of her innate optimism and realism, and because of (or maybe in spite of) the religious ideas that consumed and okay also supported her through all her troubles.

Mike Jr., now at the reunion playing the most solid, non-charismatic role of all the family members, yet a role which we are forced to concede is for Mike Junior, a success story that was not foreseeable early on, a role and a success and a story which we know is worthy of a hard hand shake or back slap and a sincere good work Mike you did good and were we to be honest would even have to say and you did better than your dad, though you had not much more (yet nonetheless some more) to work with.

Patrick, who unbelievably to all his siblings accepts Corrine’s plea to attend the reunion, riding a motorcycle east with, astonishingly to his family, a girl who he is now with, camping on the way. Who is now revealed to be, at age 35 now more boyish than at 15, a person who they never knew or suspected could be Patrick, having found at last what he himself had been searching for.

Marianne, who at this reunion (now in her early thirties, Michael her father dead) appears with two children and her husband Will, having finally found herself in a life that seemed to be taken away from her by the years of separation, infrequent communication with her mother and siblings, and total rejection by her father who in his own mind still loved her but couldn’t bear the thinking of her or of what had happened or of what she had done or of what he had done. And as Judd writes of this reunion, “I saw that Marianne was in the prime of her young womanhood … color restored … a fullness to her face … the liquidy yearning in the eyes eased … and her life independent of all Mulvaneys if she should wish it.”

And Judd, alone and then with Patrick in the dimming twilight, feeling a happiness that reconciles and transcends the pain and anger and sorrow that had been in those fifteen lost years, the years in which they had all found, each in their own time and way, themselves. A happiness that he fears to be like a balloon getting bigger and bigger, fearful of its bursting, and brother Patrick saying “I feel exactly the same way”.

Finally Michael. Not at the reunion because deceased. So in the end he Michael is the only one of these characters that does not find himself, or if he does, and realizes that he has found himself, it is not an uplifting affair at all, since he in most respects has neither found his own salvation nor helped the family his family to find theirs, at least not except perhaps in one thing, but that thing no different in kind and very much less in quantity that Corinne’s contribution to their children finding their way, but nevertheless for all that still important, and all that Michael could grasp; that thing being that after all the years of all of them searching for themselves, they (including Corinne) are able to find that for which they searched in part because of those twenty years that Michael gave to them all (including Corinne) when he did help, as did Corinne to an even greater extent, to bring his children up well. And it was that upbringing that Michael did in fact contribute to (before his own flaw caused him to stop contributing), which enabled all of them, after years of searching to come to that self knowledge and self acceptance and their own version of Truth and thus at long last find against the odds perhaps that they, the (remaining) Mulvaney’s, despite losing him, became again and were again that family whose name he contributed – the Mulvaney’s.



And one more thing. (Some uninteresting literary comments.)
This is a book that I found to be infuriating in a way, but rewarding in many ways also. Infuriating because the author chooses to write in a disconnected timeline, so that when I got to writing the main text in this review, I could not for the life of me place the events in the exact chronological order that they occupied in the novel's actual timeline. Maybe just a problem with my memory and my inattention to detail. Based on this, I would advise anyone who wants to “study” (that is read the novel, get all you can out of it, and write a really incisive review, which I know I have not done) take notes as they read, particularly noting dates that things are said to have happened, when they run across them.

But rewarding because I found the structure of the story, though it reads smoothly, is exciting, and is quite frankly a wonderful sort of book for “Oprah’s Book Club”, is at the same time disconcertingly and unexpectedly complex. (To me, at any rate.)

Judd the narrator threw me a little, when I started the review. There are many things “he” relates in the story which there is little likelihood he could ever have known, even in hindsight. That is, how could he know really anything about what happens in the chapter “The Bog”? True, years later (even after the end of the Epilogue it would have to be) he could have pumped Patrick for all these details. But there is no plausible indication in the novel that he ever did this, despite his statement a couple pages before the end that there were many questions “he would have to ask Patrick”. To my mind, information gained at or after the reunion could not plausibly be written into the “family album”, but whatever. Ms. Oates has put in her time as a novelist, and certainly can do anything she wants and get a pass from me at any rate, she deserves it. Nothing but a quibble really.

But another thing you need to realize about Judd’s narration is the curious way that he is sometimes “I” in this narration and at other times “Judd”. What, is Judd the narrator, or only a part-time narrator with an author standing behind him? I choose to believe that this is just Judd switching between first and third person for some reason which is not clear to me, other than flow of the story maybe? Perhaps when he is “Judd” he is narrating something he is dredging up from memory, and when he is “I” he is writing his thoughts as they occur to him as he is writing? I don’t know. What I do know is that this is done so seamlessly that for this not-very attentive reader, it was something I never even really noticed until I started re-reading.

Here’s a little item that I noticed a couple times as I was reading, then as I went back through the book noticed more and more. Someone in school might want to write a term paper about this little tic, and what it might be used for. Here’s a few examples to show you what I’m talking about:

And Michael would laugh, laugh.
How Patrick had laughed, laughed.
She gave Corrine’s fluttery hand a tap and the women laughed, laughed.

(and it’s not confined to laughter)

Mom cried, cried.

I’’ve never seen this construction of a sentence before, the leaving out of the word “and” where it would normally go. Maybe Oates does this all the time, maybe it’s a patented quirk of her writing, I wouldn’t know because I’ve never read anything else by her. (Soon to be corrected I hope.)

And here’s something about Michael Mulvaney which might be the biggest mystery of the whole story. Unless I really missed it, there is no indication what exactly it was that caused Michael to bolt from his home at eighteen years of age, after his father pronounced Go to hell then! No son of mine. (I’ll let anyone who wants to find that quote find it on their own.) We are told (and how could Judd ever know this) that Michael resented the way his father had turned his sisters against him, though not his brothers. We know the way that Michael simply cannot think about not only what his daughter couldn’t do (provide evidence against her attacker), but also about simply what happened to her. So a suspicion builds in my mind that Michael may have done something when he was eighteen to a girl, very much like what was done to Marianne. And since his sister Marian is mentioned at least twice in the narrative as causing Michael, in his memory, particular anguish – could the girl he have done this to have been his sister Marian? Incest? And if so, how would one live with that, how would one get any self esteem, except through the eyes of others who (not knowing the truth about Michael Mulvaney) could give him the respect that he had lost irrevocably from his father and family. If anyone wants to see if they can make anything more of this than my maybe ridiculous speculations, the chapters to pay special attention to are “The Lovers” (in which we find that Michael had a pretty cavalier attitude toward women) and of course “The White Horse”, the story of Michael’s demise after leaving Corinne (concluding with the elegantly enigmatic section starting with The white horse. So much more alive, vivid, than Michael Mulvaney who was but smoke. Of course, ending this on a note which it began on, the frustrating thing about putting clues together about Michael is that they can occur virtually anywhere in the novel, not just in chapters that you know are principally about him.



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A slog. A well-written slog, mind you, because this is Joyce Carol Oates and she’s a friggin master of the written word—our greatest living writer? I’m becoming more convinced with each year—but I didn’t quite “connect” with We Were the Mulvaneys, often touted as Oates’s masterpiece. It was an Oprah Book Club pick!

What was I found was this book is okay. Set in mid-70s rural New York, this is the story of the Mulvaneys: a well-to-do family, well-liked and sociable in their small town. Their teenaged daughter is raped; from there, over the course of years, the family falls to ruin.

Because this is Oates, great care is taken with the abuse that is the heart of this novel; the abuse and the reaction(s) to it. The Mulvaneys are fully realized and relatable, if not likable.

But somewhere along the way it’s like Oates loses the plot, or gets caught up in her own writing. I’m rarely one to say this, especially about my favorite author, but this book could’ve been trimmed down—making for an effective novella or short novel. Its actual form makes for a bloated, occasionally effective meandering mess that feels half-baked and strangely cold. I could never find my way “in” with these characters or their situations. The longtime family dramas in them and Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. grabbed me deeply, broke my heart and made me commiserate with the characters. When reading this I found myself counting pages.

That said, I can’t bear to give this less than 3 stars, if for nothing more than the exquisite prose. I also didn’t mind the ending; Oates wraps up things well enough. A masterpiece? No. Go read Blonde instead.