He querido leer este libro desde hace años, cualquiera que me conozca sabe lo mucho que lo busqué por todos lados, incluso en librerías en Estados Unidos, por algún motivo su edición había sido descontinuada y se habían retirado todas las copias disponibles de librerías.

Por fin lo puedo tener en mis manos y he podido darme el enorme gusto de leerlo, no solo ha cubierto mis expectativas, las ha superado, no me ha defraudado.

Cuando leí hace algún tiempo el Libro de los Baltimore de Joël Dicker, alguien comentó que era un tipo remake de este libro, bueno, es verdad que tienen su punto de coincidencia, creo que sobre todo en el estilo literario escogido por ambos autores y que cuentan la historia de una familia, por lo demás, bueno, no puedo compararlos.

Ya había leído a Joyce Carol Oates antes, así que si, conocía su enorme calidad literaria, pero por sobre cualquier tema técnico que se pueda decir de su estilo narrativo, hay algo que la caracteriza y es su gran y tremenda capacidad para transmitir, es apabullante leer cualquier cosa que ella escriba porque indudablemente te enfrentarás a sentir cada cosa que cuenta y muchas veces no son cosas agradables, sin embargo en mi caso particular me encanta encontrarme con libros que me muevan la fibra, que me lleguen.

Este libro está contado en mi primera persona por el hijo pequeño de los Mulvaney, Judd quien nos va narrando toda la historia del gran declive de esta preciosa y perfecta familia americana.

No voy a decir o a comentar nada sobre la historia porque de verdad es algo que vale la pena conocer y lo que en ella se desvela es tremendo, leerlo sin saber nada es algo que hay que vivir.

Solo decir que es un impresionante libro, en historia, en narrativa y por sobre cualquier otra cosa, en hacer que se te mueva desde la punta de los pies hasta el último de los cabellos.

Con esta autora siempre termino preguntándome ¿cómo le hace para sentarse a escribir en primera persona cosas como estas?

Un libro absoluta, completa y totalmente recomendable, un libro que tiene una reputación completamente ganada.

Que habilidad la de Oates para dar vueltas en torno a un mismo tema, como si de una espiral se tratase, sin por ello resultar pesada... Si consigues superar las primeras 50 páginas, un tanto lentas, te irá todo sobre ruedas y seguirás pasando páginas sin mayor problema. Eso sí, la historia es a menudo frustrante, incluyendo algunos personajes... Grandes injusticias y un comportamiento un tanto irracional, todo a partir de uno de esos grandes dramas que caracterizan a esta escritora, en este caso una violación. Perfecto retrato de la hipocresía de otra época y de la sociedad en casi cualquiera...

I read this book probably 10 years ago, but it has stayed with me. That's because this book made me strongly feel quite a range of negative emotions. I finished this book on a plane, and I was so burnt up after reading it that I left it on my seat in a huff. (In fact this is the book I refer to in this review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...). I thought this book was way too long, especially the first few hundred pages. It took forever to get the story off the ground. It was painfully slow and depressing. And at the time I had NO ONE to talk with about it! So when one of my most wonderful GR friends chose this book for our group to read, I knew I would finally be able to share this experience with some of my best and most respected reading friends. I can't wait to see what they allll think about it! It's already getting some great discussion in the group. Even though I thoroughly disliked the book, I think it was a great choice for our group read. I knew it would stir the pot, and I love that! I just had to keep my big mouth shut until everyone started reading it (and I did!).

I do like JCO, but I feel that she is at her strongest as a short story/novella writer. I haven't read a long work by Oates that I've liked yet (and them was probably just as bad as this one). But her short stories are some of the best around and I'll continue to follow her career. But from now on I think I'll be sticking with the shorter works.

Recensione originale: https://sonnenbarke.wordpress.com/201...

...Il colpevole non è lo stupratore ma la vittima.

Di chi è la colpa di uno stupro?

Si può pronunciare la parola stupro in una famiglia americana tanto cristiana e tanto perbene?

In una famiglia americana tanto cristiana e tanto perbene, una "vittima" di stupro non sarà invece la colpevole, e non contaminerà tutta la famiglia?

I Mulvaney sono la classica famiglia che noi italiani diremmo "del Mulino Bianco": cristiani, belli, simpatici, divertenti, buffi, innamoratissimi, semplicemente perfetti. Michael e Corinne hanno quattro figli: tre maschi (Mike Jr., Patrick e Judd, il minore) e una figlia, Marianne. La vita dei Mulvaney a High Point Farm, una fattoria in una sonnacchiosa ma ridente cittadina dello stato di New York, viene descritta per filo e per segno nella prima parte del romanzo, perché dobbiamo capire fino in fondo quanto questa famiglia sia meravigliosa. I Mulvaney non hanno un solo difetto, sono perfetti e tutti li invidiano e li ammirano.

Ma è possibile che le cose vadano sempre bene per questa famiglia perfetta? Purtroppo, la risposta è no. Un giorno, infatti, a San Valentino, la bellissima, dolcissima, cristianissima e popolarissima Marianne viene eletta reginetta al ballo della scuola, e quando torna a casa niente è più come prima. Marianne, infatti, è stata stuprata da uno dei ragazzi presenti alla festa.

Inizialmente il padre reagisce con violenza nei confronti della famiglia dello stupratore, la madre pronuncia la parola "stupro" davanti al medico di famiglia che parla soltanto di "abuso sessuale". Ma i fratelli non capiscono granché, soprattutto Judd, che viene tenuto all'oscuro dei fatti in quanto ancora quattordicenne (Marianne ha 17 anni all'epoca dei fatti). E Marianne? Marianne, molto devota, è convinta che la colpa sia sua perché era ubriaca (in realtà l'hanno ubriacata con l'inganno, dicendole che si trattava di cocktail all'arancia). Ovviamente, essendo ubriaca, non ricorda molto bene l'accaduto, perciò non se la sente di denunciare lo stupratore perché, in ogni caso, è colpa sua, di lei.

C'è bisogno di ben poco tempo perché l'intera situazione familiare cambi e anche la famiglia cominci a vedere Marianne con altri occhi. I Mulvaney vengono messi in disparte e ormai disprezzati da tutti: ovviamente la gente gode a veder "cadere" una famiglia che sostanzialmente ha sempre invidiato, più che ammirato. Il padre mal sopporta questa situazione e finisce per non riuscire più a guardare in faccia sua figlia, come se, appunto, la colpevole dell'onta della famiglia sia lei. Quando lo dice a sua moglie, lei non dice altro che "Lo so". Non si infuria, non lo aggredisce verbalmente, non lo prende a insulti, non cerca di farlo ragionare né con le buone né con le cattive.

Corinne è una moglie che si dimostrerà, nel corso del romanzo, tanto innamorata da essere succube del marito. Corinne dà sempre ragione al marito, i figli vengono sempre in secondo piano se si tratta di tutelare il benessere del marito, che poi a suo parere coincide con il benessere familiare.

È inevitabile perciò che Marianne venga allontanata dalla famiglia, ma naturalmente è per il suo bene, e comunque le permettono di portare con sé il gatto Focaccina, quindi dov'è il problema, alla fin fine?

Da qui il romanzo si dipana nel raccontare la vita successiva dei vari membri della famiglia. Una famiglia, ovviamente, ormai decaduta, ma comunque sempre felice, allegra, divertente, anche se ormai non invidiata più da nessuno. Anche perché, è inutile dirlo, la felicità della famiglia Mulvaney da questo momento in poi è puramente di facciata. Così forzata da far venire il voltastomaco.

Questo libro mi ha fatto più paura di un romanzo dell'orrore. Perché parla dell'attribuzione delle colpe in una sonnacchiosa provincia che più che americana è, credo, universale. Potrebbe benissimo essere la provincia italiana, dove molto, molto spesso, accade che la vittima di stupro sia invece considerata la colpevole, magari perché vestita in maniera "troppo provocante" oppure perché, come nel caso di Marianne, ubriaca. Che importa poi se è stata fatta ubriacare con l'inganno. L'importante è che era ubriaca. E poi, in ultima analisi, l'importante è che era donna, quindi la colpa non può che essere sua. È sempre la donna a commettere un errore, l'uomo ha degli istinti e, poverino, gli è difficile controllarli. Sta alla donna non provocarlo in alcun modo, neanche con la sua sola presenza.

Prima dello stupro di Marianne incontriamo un altro stupro nel romanzo, sottaciuto o ammesso a mezza bocca: lo stupro di gruppo di Della Rae, una ragazza che forse ha qualche problema di ritardo mentale, e di cui i ragazzi della scuola "si approfittano" a turno, una sera. O meglio, "si divertono" con lei. Perché dai, in fondo che cos'è lo stupro, è una parola errata per designare un po' di sano divertimento. I ragazzi hanno degli appetiti, com'è normale che sia, e devono pure potersi sfogare un po'. Poi comunque, torniamo sempre lì, la colpevole è la ragazza, che sicuramente li ha provocati, e che in ogni caso è un po' zoccola. Di sicuro ci stava. Si è sicuramente divertita anche lei. E poi lo voleva, oh se lo voleva.

Lo stesso Marianne. Dopo lo stupro, la scuola si riempie di scritte oscene rivolte verso di lei. Del resto, è lo stupratore stesso a dirglielo: "lo volevi anche tu". Che la piantasse di fare tanto casino.

Ma il punto è che la povera Marianne non fa casino per niente. Decide di non denunciare, si assume fin da subito tutta la responsabilità dell'accaduto. Inoltre, Gesù le dice che bisogna porgere l'altra guancia, che chi soffre è con lui, ecc ecc. Marianne non può non credere a Gesù.

Una famiglia americana è un romanzo agghiacciante. Una mia amica l'ha definito "orrendo", e sono perfettamente d'accordo con lei per quanto io l'abbia promosso a pieni voti. È orribile perché ci sbatte in faccia una situazione orribile. Ma più che la situazione orribile (lo stupro), è il contesto a essere orribile. L'atmosfera di accusa, di colpevolizzazione. Come dicevo, ci ho rivisto tanti fatti che avvengono quotidianamente anche nella nostra Italia (nella quale peraltro per non essere colpevole di uno stupro la donna deve necessariamente essere stuprata da uno straniero, nel qual caso è sempre una vittima).

Personalmente è un libro che consiglio, però con l'avvertenza che c'è la concreta possibilità che non riusciate a stomacarlo. Intendiamoci, non ci sono particolari raccapriccianti, è il contesto a essere stomachevole. Tuttavia, se pensate di riuscire, leggetelo, perché è un libro veramente forte e importante. Chissà che riuscisse ad aprire un po' gli occhi a qualcuno che li ha già semi-aperti.

1976. A Valentine's Day dance that goes terribly wrong. Starts with a ripped dress that ends up ripping the Mulvaney family apart.

While the writing was beautiful, and tragic all wrapped together, I found this one hard to get through and harder to pick up and finish. The book was so depressing and just seemed to keep spiraling further and further downward. I was so angry with the way that this seemingly perfect, all- American family handled the situation that tears them apart.

It wasn't until the very end that the shining only redeeming factor shone through, and I was left satisfied with the ending. The characters were all well developed, and I found that for the most part I did enjoy the children's characters. The parents- Corinne and Michael Mulvaney Sr were ones that I wanted to punch at times.

"Prepari piani accurati, e sembra che il" caso" ti favorisca. Vanno a modo tuo le cose che a un osservatore neutrale sembrano pura fortuna. Ma è una fortuna che hai predisposto tu"

Tutti ammirano i Mulvaney, tutti li invidiano. Una famiglia perfetta: Michael e Corinne sono genitori felici di quattro splendidi figli, tre maschi e la dolcissima Marianne.
Ma la vita sorprende sempre.
Scrittura coinvolgente, ricca di descrizioni, personaggi ben delineati.

"Qué palabras se pueden utilizar para resumir toda una vida, tan repleta de confusa felicidad interrumpida por aquel dolor absoluto a cámara lenta?"
Ascensión y caída de una familia modelo en los Estados Unidos de los años 70. Pero de esa parte del país de las barras y estrellas más conservador, religioso y campestre. Los Mulvaney son un próspero clan capitaneado por Michael Mulvaney, un empresario local, su mujer Corinne, una loca de las antigüedades, y sus cuatro hijos: el deportista Mike, la animadora Marianne, el intelectual Patrick y el peque de la familia y narrador de la historia, Judd. Todo muy bonito y muy de postal hasta que por un suceso muy desagradable que le pasa a uno de los integrantes, la fantasía cae como un castillo de naipes.
El rechazo de una sociedad mojigata a morir, el abuso, la sed de venganza, el amor incondicional y la autodestrucción se dan cita en este novelón de casi ochocientas páginas muy prolífico, algo tostón a veces pero sin duda una muy buena radiografía de la sociedad norteamericana del momento. Aunque en lo esencial no creo que hayan cambiado mucho.

Warning! Warning! Potential spoilers contained in this rant-filled review!

We Were the Mulvaneys is probably JCO’s most known novel. I can’t for the life of me understand why. I will be the first to tell you what a JCO enthusiast I am, yet before reading this I had never read a single novel of hers. I had read and loved her short stories as if they were written for my eyes only and I cherished them as such. I still do…more so now after having read this book.

This book is….something.

I guess a lot can be said about a novel that makes you feel such strong emotions on such a varying range. I felt a lot of anger while reading this. So much so that I found myself clenching my hands so tightly that my knuckles were turning white. I was also scowling a lot which is going to age me some day. I find I scowl when I’m concentrating in general so angry scowling on top of normal scowling is not good for me.

This book is about a family- The Mulvaneys. They are a good family; a well-known family in their country home in upstate NY. These family members have names but to be honest with you each one is referred to by about 4 different names and there is such a long introduction to all of them individually that I couldn’t be bothered to actually pay attention to it. There’s a mom, a dad, a few brothers and a sweet darling sister whose innocence is taken from her in one of the worst ways one could ever imagine.

The family reacts to this “situation” in a way that is flat out appalling. Growing up in the family that I did I find this so unacceptable that I almost stopped reading it. In fact, I wanted to drive until I found the Mulvaney farm and go on a rampage that would either result in murder or a severe talking to with this family. Certainly if I had ever been a victim my father would not have ever blamed me, or begrudged me for soiling the family name. Instead he would have done everything in his power to see that there was justice and that I received the help that I needed to cope with what had been done to me. Yes, I feel confident enough in my family to know that he would have done this even in 1970. The time of the event is relevant, yes, but the point is the problem lies with the father. It is a character flaw. Victim blaming is a real thing and it happens every single day.

The fact that Mrs. Mulvaney puts up with her jackass of a husband and his outrageous behavior where he essentially shuns his daughter is so completely baffling to me. Once again this is because of my upbringing. My mother is one of the strongest willed women you could ever meet. I’m fairly certain that if there were a Mama Bear protecting her cub and my mother protecting me and you had to choose between which one to fight you would choose the bear every time. Hell hath no fury like my mother protecting one of her children.

There was a point in this book where I was actually hoping to see a teenager kill another young man. I was literally grinding my teeth in agitation wishing he would pull that trigger and knowing he wouldn’t do it. I don’t normally encourage murder but in this case I felt it justified.

Button, our sweet innocent victim in this story, shows no personal growth because she doesn’t understand that what has been done to her is wrong. She doesn’t seem to get that the initial act that causes all of this is wrong and she doesn’t understand that her father’s reaction is wrong. She just goes about her life thinking this is just the way things are and she never seeks help for the emotional damage that is so evident to the readers.

The end of this story infuriated me more than anything. Why would you ever give that man the satisfaction of going to see him on his death bed? He single-handedly destroyed your family because he was too goddamn proud to face what happened. He outcasts you, moves you away from your family and doesn’t talk to you for what- 20 fucking years?! And you still go crawling to his bedside like a good and obedient little child?! Of course you do because you don’t know any better and it’s making me angry for completely different reasons! I’m mad because you should have been helped! You should have been hugged and loved and told that it was not your fault. And now here I am blaming you for the lack of compassion done to you by your own family.

JCO is kind of known for making you stop and really think about the world and what goes on around you. These things happen in life. There are tragedies. There is death. There is rape. There is cruel behavior. All it takes is one person doing the right thing. I applaud JCO for making me feel these things. It’s a sign of a great writer. HOWEVER, the subject content was just too overwhelming for me to rate it high. It was such a grueling read. I didn’t enjoy this book. It was written fine- of course!-it’s JCO after all. But it affected me too personally for me to ever love this book or to ever recommend it. I feel bad that I selected this book for my group read. (Sorry girls!!) BUT, it did spark some really excellent discussions.

I'd tried Oates before: her novel Black Water as well as some of her short stories. Just never clicked with her. Oates still leaves me cold after this soap opera.

Much of her style irritates me. Oates overuses the exclamation point. She indulges too often in the post-modern habit of piling on lists rather than the carefully chosen detail. So many details and description that made me want to skim or just struck me as wrong. (A cat is named "E.T."--in 1974 in terms of the story--although the film wasn't released until 1982; Patrick is said not to be a genius with an I.Q. of 151 but the genius range starts at 140. Lots of factual errors I picked up that stripped authorial authority.)

I think my dislike for the book though is based more on feeling none of her characters come alive to me, not even Judd the narrator. Her Mulvaneys seem a bit too precious at first. Each has their pet name(s). There's the father Micheal (Curly), the mother Corinne (Whistle), and their children: the eldest Michael, Jr, a star jock, (Mule); the nerdy Patrick destined for the Ivy League (Pinch); the too-saintly cheerleader Marianne (Button); and the youngest, Judd (Ranger). Co-starring are a zoo of horses, dogs, cats, canaries etc. Marianne in particular irritated me. She seemed too good to be true and to have "victim" stamped on her forehead. This is how she's described at one point:

"Button" Mulvaney was so sweet, so sincere, so pretty, so--what exactly?--glimmering-luminous--as if her soul shone radiant in her face you could smile at her, even laugh at her, but you couldn't not love her.

Then it all falls apart for the family--hard, fast and the next two-thirds of the book is miserable. And I'm not sure, despite a precipitating tragedy, how it went from something so rosy to that--it's as if all the characters do a 180. The dark side and what motivated it seemed as unreal, yet as stereotyped, as the idyllic, good side.

3.5 stars, closer to 4, but the ending was a bit stilted.

I think this is one of Ms. Oates' best books. Everyone I know who's read it agrees that indeed its one of her more carefully constructed efforts. The characters do stay with you- Patrick, Judd, Marianne Mulvaney; and their parents Corinne and Michael Sr. Their downfall from their place in the sun truly is a tragedy that we do not want to witness for they are at heart good people brought down by tragic events.

But its also a novel where the end is a bit forced, and drags a bit, especially after the death of one of the major characters. But still, it definitely is worth reading.

Me ha gustado más el fondo que la forma. Para mi gusto se va excesivamente por la tangente (aunque sea el estilo de la autora): no es que sea lento, es que las carreteras secundarias son excesivas -o excesivamente largas-, y no aportan mucho (o mucho más).
La historia sí que me parece un buen retrato de una sociedad, amparada en la religiosidad que va cobrando fuerza y el estigma a todo lo que sea diferente, virando rápidamente hacia el conservadurismo en períodos después de la guerra, también contándonos los retazos de la contracultura.
Me ha gustado leerlo, aunque, como ya he dicho, me ha resultado algo cansino (lo he leído en 7 u 8 sentadas: igual si se lee con más pausa se hace más liviano, y mi opinión hubiera cambiado en ese aspecto), por las semejanzas a la era actual en Europa: estigmas cobrando su mayor fuerza, con una fuerte deshonra para el sufrido, crisis económica acompañada de una social, surgimiento de lobbies locales que van cobrando fuerza en la sociedad, la eterna huida del atípico, la destrucción de los anclajes del estereotipo (en USA más que notable) y un largo etcétera.
Eso sí: todo ello contado con mucha pausa...

Okay, I finally GET Joyce Carol Oates

Thanks to Goodreads, I stuck with this novel, one of the prolific Joyce Carol Oates’s best-known and –loved books. (Hey, it’s even Oprah Book Club-approved!) Some people on here said it picked up around the 100-page mark, and – wouldn’t you know it? – they were right.

I’m glad I listened to y’all. It takes a while for the book to find its way. So many character introductions! So many coy digressions! Do we really need to know about all the family nicknames and pets?! But once it gets going, it’s quite gripping, both plot-wise and psychologically.

The past tense in the title hints at the book’s outcome. In some ways it’s about the decline and fall of a once prosperous, well-loved upstate New York family. One event that happens on Valentine’s Day in 1976 affects each of the six Mulvaneys differently, and this book, narrated mostly by the youngest child, Judd, tells the sad, sad story.

I won’t reveal the event, although it’s hinted at early on and it’s easy enough to figure out. But it literally divides the family: from the community (there’s legal action, shunning), and perhaps more tragically, from themselves.

A father denies his favourite child, and the devout mother unquestioningly goes along with it; the other children react by leaving or messing up; careers and ambitions are thwarted; a plan to execute retribution is hatched, further dividing the family; and, as lives are ruined or put on hold and the scars of the past refuse to heal, nobody talks about “it” – the unmentionable “event.”

Oates is working on a large canvas here. There are several biblical and mythical allusions; and much of the book has the inexorable feel of a Greek Tragedy. The idea of Darwinian evolution is also a big theme. And the book can also be read, quite convincingly, as one of those Death of the American Dream novels. When institutions fail people, you're left with the family unit. The book mostly concerns the subtle interworkings of a large family, from the oft-repeated anecdotes that capture a family member’s character to its big secrets.

As one Mulvaney child says about his family late in the book, “It’s like things are in code and the key’s been lost.”

There are lots of passages that ring true if you’re part of a big(gish) family. Consider this:

They say the youngest kid of a family doesn’t remember himself very clearly because he has learned to rely on the memories of others, who are older and thus possess authority. Where his memory conflicts with theirs, it’s discarded as of little worth. What he believes to be his memory is more accurately described as a rag-bin of others’ memories, their overlapping testimonies of things that happened before he was born, mixed in with things that happened after his birth, including him.

Not all the prose is so insightful. This passage, for instance, cries out for tightening and clarity:

There were those times when the telephone rang, and she could not locate a phone amid the clutter. She rushed, she stumbled – for what if it was Michael Sr., her beloved husband of whom she thought, worried obsessively as the mother of an infant if physically parted from the infant thinks and worries obsessively of the infant even when her mind appears to be fully engaged, if not obsessed, with other matters.

I read that last run-on sentence four times before comprehending it. And in the same paragraph (!) we get:

During these mad dashes to the wall phone in the kitchen she hadn’t time to fall but with fantastical grace and dexterity wrenched herself upright in midfall and continued running (dogs whimpering, yapping hysterically in her wake, cats scattering wide-eyed and plume-tailed) before the telephone ceased its querulous ringing – though frequently she was greeted with nothing more than a derisive dial tone, in any case.

Are editors simply too intimidated by JCO’s output to suggest revisions?

The author also has an annoying habit of repeating phrases in italics, supposedly to suggest subconscious thoughts but too often feeling like a lazy shorthand saying, “Look, look, this is significant!”

Still, I don’t think you read Oates for the line-by-line beauty of her prose.

Late in the novel she gets deep inside the head of the book’s ruined, alcoholic patriarch, and it’s a terrifying, sad and completely convincing section, the best in the book. And when one of the most wounded characters finds herself in a sanctuary for wounded animals who have been given a second chance at life, the symbolism might seem obvious, but after 400 pages it feels earned.

A lesser writer would have offered up sentimentality, cheesy redemption monologues and copious tears. Oates is after something more complex, more textured, and ultimately more real.

We might think we know who the Mulvaneys are, but they can, like humans everywhere, still surprise us.