Tutte le famiglie disfunzionali sono diverse a modo loro. E in questo romanzo di formazione John Irving ci racconta di bambini, orsi, stupri, prostitute, di Freud, di scrittrici, di nani e bombaroli. E molte altre avventure naturalmente. E tu lo leggi pensando “ok è la solita storia della famiglia matta...” ma poi ad un certo punto il libro cresce e, narrato in prima persona da John, uno dei figli, il libro diventa come dire “grande” e tu ti trovi con loro ad emozionarti e a sorprenderti per tutta l’architettura e per tutta la famiglia. Un bel libro Mr. Irving.

I've never much liked fancy dress. I've never been very good at it, either. It's my mum's fault, really. Every Halloween when I was a child, my mum would throw a black bin liner over me, colour in my nose with her mascara, and attach a sock she’d stuffed with newspapers to my bottom, before declaring my costume complete. Even at seven, I was aware of how ridiculous I looked. Sometimes I decided to throw on some additional make-up or attach a couple of ears to my head just to avoid confusion, but that was hard work: most years, I just wrote ‘CAT!’ on a sheet of paper and pinned it to my chest for everyone to see. My baby sister had less need to explain her identity to our neighbours, but her Ghost disguise – one sheet, two eye-holes – was another classic in the shite costume genre.

You know another example of crappy costume? A bearskin. And by that I mean the skin of an actual bear, which - let's face it - would look incredibly stupid on a human, especially a skinny female human. And yet, according to this novel, a skinny female human automatically becomes a dead ringer for a bear when dressed in this enormous animal's skin and faced with any idiot hotel guest. In the real world, nobody with a single brain cell would fall for this trick, but idiot hotel guests fall for it here. Continually. It's very annoying.

Also, sibling incest.

Ugh.

"L'estate in cui mio padre comprò l'orso, nessuno di noi era ancora nato."


Dopo aver letto “il mondo secondo Garp” ed esserne rimasta rapita, ho pensato - non senza un po' di tristezza - che nel leggere il successivo romanzo di Irving non avrei più provato le stesse intense emozioni. E invece l'Hotel (dovrei dire gli hotels) mi ha letteralmente coinvolta. Tutti i personaggi che compongono la numerosa e stramba famiglia Berry, e quelli che gli ruotano attorno, ognuno nel proprio ruolo, hanno lasciano un segno indelebile, come pure l'orso State o'Maine, l'orsa semi-umana Susie e il puzzolente cane Sorrow. Sono tutti miei amici adesso, sono la famiglia che mi sarebbe piaciuto avere, e li porto tutti con me.

http://youtu.be/HcQOcLL-r2Y

Если бы у этой книги не было сюжета, я бы могла читать её бесконечно. Просто про семью, жизнь, взросление, всех окружающих людей. Без террористов, изнасилований и убийств/самоубийств.

This novel, the first one I ever read of Irving, left a very ambiguous mark on my soul. I was strongly attracted to the really powerful story telling, which reminded my of Dickens. As with Dickens, there was also the intens and warm interaction between the main characters (almost all of them members of one family) and the sometimes dramatic events they have to confront.

But Irving really is modern writer: the unconventional relations between the family members, the risky cross-border themes (rape, incest, homosexuality, etc), the rather marginal environment of prostitutes or (clumsy) revolutionaries, this all adds up to a real end-of-the-twentieth-century-feel. And then there is the typical Irving-ingredient of absurd-hilaric characters and situations that normally would seem completely incredible but with Irving are just a natural part of the story. In short, Irving presents a cocktail that makes this novel "big", giving the reader the feeling that he really learns something about the absurdity, complexity, harshness and tenderness of the world and of life. Awesome.

But... in the last 100 pages, Irving went just a little bit too far to my taste, he made his cocktail just one fraction too intense. For instance, in the episode about the revenge on rapist Chipper. And then there's the disappointing epilogue, with which I think Irving wanted to give his novel a beautiful 'Gatsby-like'-ending. And that wasn't really necessary. So, though not flawless, this book definitely gave me the urge to read more by Irving.

Awesome book. I had never read Irving before, and I have no idea why not. He's like that Deli that you always drive by but never go into, then one day decide "what the hell" and it turns out to have the best pastrami sandwich you've ever had in your life.

Anyway, the story revolves around an unusual family growing up and learning about sex, sports, love, death, failure, success, etc etc. It's quirky and funny and strange - Irving has a knack for finding little bits of truth in truly bizarre situations.

Oh, and the main love story is between a brother and sister, so...yeah.

My only complaint is that the ending is a little too neat, everything fits together a little too well. The rest of the book is messy and bursting at the seams, so it doesn't quite fit. Other than that though, 4 stars.

n  n

I have watched the 1984 movie, which is, in some respects, miles away from the book.

Ha, about the book. Just because you name one character as Freud, or you place part of the novel's settings in post-WWII Austria, that doesn't add psychoanalytical depth, automatically. Even adding incest and Sigmund Freud quotes, or recommendations on his books.

This is just the story (funny at times, I reckon) of a dysfunctional American family mainly ran by a somehow mad father in pursuit of a dream accomplishment: the comfortable and happy, familial hotel. However, even if the family aims at that dream-hotel (they tried it 3 times, in different locations) they see it ending up as a Center for Rape Crisis, (now blind) father still thinks it's a hotel. What a fool.

Ha, about the bear question. With the exception of the first, real bear called State O'Maine, henceforth it's never a real one, just people (like Susie) who didn't feel enough human, for some time throughout the novel. The bear is just a disguise.

It's a bit disappointing, this novel by the American Canadian writer. Nevertheless, it sheds some light on what it means "to be American". Even in the negative sense.

The Berrys' are a somewhat quirky New Hampshire (USA) family, with parents who fell in love Summer working at a local resort; they have five kids, including John who narrates his family's story from some unspecified time in the future. Their family saga owning and running not one, not two, but three versions of the Hotel New Hampshire at heart capture a family that mostly takes its own paths and when tragedy or indeed joy arrives they persevere as much as they can; they 'keep passing the open windows' when they can... essentially if life feels like it's asking you to jump out of the window, don't!

For a book that at times features sexual violence, incest, underage sexual experiences and exposure, physical violence, attitudes to homosexuality in the 1950s and 1960s, animal cruelty and more it's quite a feat to maintain its darkly comedic feel throughout. What makes it standout is its hyper real look at a quirky family from within and from the perspective of a dysfunctional man (John) who himself sees himself 'more normal' than most of his family. Most of all I should not underplay the marvelous feat of saga-ic storytelling that this book is! 8.5 out of 12.
The movie trailer!

2022 read

The Hotel New Hampshire: John Irving's Fairy Tale of Life

n  n

"A dream is fulfillment of a wish."--The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud

One of the benefits of having your favorite professor of psychology as your next door neighbor is learning that he is a very widely read man. We are an odd pair, I suppose. He is 76. I am 59. But through the years we have known one another we have become best friends. We frequently exchange books the other has not read.

It is safe to say that Howard is fond of literature that some might find "quirky." That's fine with me. That which is quirky can be quite fascinating. Howard can also be subject to a touch of hyperbole. So when he handed me his copy of The Hotel New Hampshire, declaring it the finest book written in the English language, I graciously accepted it, not revealing the grain of salt I reserved for his high accolade.

While I would not proclaim "The Hotel New Hampshire" the finest book written in the English language, it is a book I came to love with the passage of each page. Quirky? Oh, there's no question about it.

Iowa Bob Berry is the football coach of Dairy Prep School in Dairy, New Hampshire. The school doesn't quite make the top tier of preparatory schools in New England, but it serves its purpose for the wealthy whose children don't fall into the top tier of students that attend the top tier schools. It comes, then, rather a surprise that Iowa Bob's son, Win,is Harvard material. The problem is, that although he has been accepted to attend it's going to take hard work to earn the money to afford the tuition.

Now,Dairy Prep is an all boys' school. It comes as no surprise that Win's girl of his dreams is unknown to him although they live in the same town. However, after graduation, the two nineteen year olds spend their summer working at Arbuthnot by the Sea, a resort in Maine. Nor does it come as a surprise that the two fall in love over that wondrous summer.

There is definitely a fairy tale quality to the courtship of Win Berry and Mary Bates, the daughter of a very scholarly family. Another employee at Arbuthnot is Freud, not Sigmund, of course, but Freud a mechanic, who entertains the guests with the antics of pet bear, "State O' Maine" who rides a 1937 Indian Motorcycle. At the end of summer, 1939, Freud announces he's returning to his home in Vienna, not a wise thing to do. He sells the motorcycle and the bear to Win for $200.00 for Win's promises he marry Mary, attend Harvard, and one day will apologize to Mary for an event Freud does not reveal.

Win makes good on the first promise quickly. Win and Mary begin to be fruitful between the entertainment seasons during which Win is earning his tuition at various resorts with the use of the Indian and the Bear. World War II puts a hitch in Win's enrollment at Harvard. However, he returns safely, graduates from Harvard and takes a teaching position at Dairy, now a coed facility.

The Berry children are Frank, Franny, John Harvard, Lilly, and the youngest,known as Egg. John, the middle child, narrates the novel in first person.

Win quickly becomes dissatisfied with his teaching position. He buys the now vacant female seminary to convert it to a hotel as there is no other in Dairy.

I've mentioned that Irving's novel has a fairy tale quality to it. It's necessary to remember that there are the lighter tales of Hans Christian Anderson and there is the darker side of the genre by the Brothers Grimm. As the story of the Berry clan proceeds, it is evident that Irving has chosen to follow the Grimm route.

Frank is gay. He is targeted for humiliation by the backfield of the Dairy football team, quarterbacked by Chip Dove. The same backfield rapes Franny. She refuses to report that she has been raped, but minimizes the attack by saying she had been beaten up. Lilly has a rare disorder which prevents her from growing. Egg is practically deaf following a series of ear infections.

Win receives an offer to sell the Hotel. And who should appear to offer the Berry family a change of scenery but Freud, now the owner of a hotel in Vienna, Austria. Win is his pick to help improve his gasthaus to the level of a fine hotel.

Freud could use the help. It's an odd establishment. One floor is occupied by prostitutes, who may ply their trade legally in Vienna. Another floor is occupied by a group of radicals, despising the old order and anything smacking of tradition. Win has his work cut out for him.

Freud has obtained a smarter bear, Susie. She's considerably smarter than State O' Maine. She happens to be a young woman who does a divine impression of a bear, not only serving as an entertainer, but a body guard for the ladies of the evening upstairs. And, oh, yes, Susie was the victim of sexual assault as well. She considers herself ugly, and is content to hide behind the bear suit.

n  n

"The Hotel New Hampshire" was written and directed by Tony Richardson for the screen in 1984.

The radicals upstairs are a dangerous group. They plan to set off an automobile bomb which will cause a sympathetic bomb under the stage of the Vienna Opera House on the premiere night of the fall season. I leave it to the reader to discern whether the attempt is successful,or not, and who lives and who dies.

n  n

The Vienna Opera House

The Berry family return to the United States. Lilly has written a best seller "Trying to Grow." This deus ex machina allows the Berrys to live a comfortable life, though all of life's normal travails continue to follow them through out their lives.

As Irving tells us, sorrow, love, and doom float through each of our lives. It's how we each handle those unavoidable currents that determine the satisfaction of our lives.

Iowa Bob, training John Harvard to be a weight lifter, put him on a strict regimen of exercise. "You have to be obsessed. Obsessed. Keep passing those open windows." Having lived approaching sixty years, I'd have to say you can't live just standing still. Some dreams become wishes which are fulfilled. Some are not. Just persevere.

I have read a number of reviews of "The Hotel New Hampshire." You will certainly find its detractors here. Those unfavorable reviews note the dysfunctional nature of the Berry family. Similar reviews find Irving's emphasis on sexual assault unnerving. While I've noted Irving's fairy tale nature of storytelling in this novel, life isn't a fairy tale. The events described in Irving's novel happen all too frequently. As a bit of a post script, I have to say Irving did his research on the dynamics of sexual assault and its effects on survivors. Yes, sorrow also floats.

One of my most revelatory professional discoveries is also stupidly simple. It’s this, courtesy of Bob Probst: Reading is a selfish venture.

It is. Of course it is. I’m disappointed in myself for not realizing it earlier, because it’s a principle – probably one of the top two or three – that guides my work with pre-service English teachers, and it would’ve transformed the way I taught English in high school. I was reminded of the selfishness of the reading enterprise as I made my way through John Irving’s The Hotel New Hampshire, more on which in a couple minutes.

Here’s why it’s important to consider the solipsistic nature of reading, especially for the teachers in my audience. We read, let’s say 99% of the time, for our own reasons and purposes. We certainly do this when we read for pleasure, but even professional reading is done for specific personal reasons. I pick up a novel to get lost in the characters, to savor the author’s use of language, to find myself carried along by plot and conflict; when I conduct research for an article I’m writing, my personal reasons look very different, but the act of scouring journals and other texts for salient information is also highly personal, and how it looks depends on what I’m writing. In both cases, I’m reading for my reasons, and this holds true for just about everyone, no matter what they read.

School is the only place where people are regularly called on to read for external reasons over which they have no control. They want to score well on the quiz, write the paper, contribute to the discussion – and the parameters for success on all those activities are probably set by the teacher. In my experience, students are rarely encouraged to read for their own purposes, which is a direct contradiction of the way people read in the world outside of and beyond school. We read what interests us – or, if we’re not sure if something interests us, we bring our own experience and knowledge to bear on the text in an effort to make meaning of it.

And so it was for me with The Hotel New Hampshire.

(As a side note, this is, of course, where the Common Core State Standards get reading completely wrong. In the English standards’ slavish adherence to “the four corners of the page” and standards author David Coleman’s desire that students not access their prior knowledge and history – essentially asking students to come to the text as a blank slate, which precisely no one ever does – the selfish aspect of reading is left entirely out of the equation. By focusing completely on providing textual evidence for whatever superficial task the teacher has mandated, student choice is eliminated completely. We’re asking students to read in complete defiance of what we know about how people read, which means most of the reading tasks they’re asked to complete in school are completely artificial, and with very little transfer to the way we read outside of school. It’s asinine.)

Back to The Hotel New Hampshire, and from here on in I tread lightly.

I enjoyed the book, but it’s problematic for a lot of reasons, touching as it does on anti-Semitism, adolescent sexuality, incest, prostitution, terrorism, and rape, all while somehow being laugh-out-loud funny. It details the exploits of the Berry family – mainly father Win and his children Frank, Franny, John (who narrates the book), and Lily – and the three hotels they own (in New Hampshire, Vienna, and Maine) over the course of twentyish years. The last item in that lengthy list of the book’s sensitive subjects hangs over everything after Franny is raped in high school by several boys, and it’s tempting to read it as the catalyst for much of what develops later between her and John.

The interesting thing – and what prompted me to think carefully about the inherent selfishness of reading – is how I homed in on Franny’s rape as the book’s defining event even though it isn’t really about rape or misogyny or even, broadly, gender politics. It’s certainly part of the book’s tapestry, but if I said this was a book about rape, I’d be lying.

And yet.

The treatment of women in our culture has been on my mind lately due to the recent video of the woman being sexually harassed on the streets of New York and the misogynist cowards behind Gamergate and the threats levied against critic Anita Sarkeesian and the necessity of #YesAllWomen. It’s the Hobby Lobby decision and the GOP’s rejection of equal pay for women and even yesterday’s exceedingly lame conference focusing on “men’s issues” on the campus where I teach. If the autumn of 2014 taught us anything, it’s that men, as the saying goes, are pigs.

So I was already sensitive to this subject, and I felt anything but optimistic about the direction in which I saw Irving heading. It seems spectacularly foolhardy to think a man has anything worth saying about rape, but to make it one of the key events of a novel had all the makings of a Hindenburg-style disaster. Because of the way I was already attuned to the issue, I was perhaps more prepared to trace its development than any of the other problems Irving presents us with.

There’s one big reason why I think Irving’s handling of this most sensitive issue ultimately works: it’s nuanced. That seems counterintuitive when dealing with an issue like rape, so I should probably clarify that it’s the aftermath of the rape that’s nuanced. The crime itself is never seen as anything other than the brutal act it is, but Irving’s characters resist convenient responses. Franny, as the victim, somehow manages to be the strongest character in the book – she refuses to see herself as a victim, claiming that while, yes, she was physically assaulted, the rapists never touched her emotionally, never got to, as she puts it, “the me in me” – while continuing to write letters to one of her assailants for years after the attack because she was in love with him at the time.

In Vienna, the family meets Susie, a fellow rape survivor (who also dresses as a bear, which is too convoluted a backstory to discuss here), who says that Franny’s response is ridiculous. According to Susie, Franny’s blithe refusal to see herself as a victim indicates a refusal to deal with the crime itself, and by not attacking her assailants at the time, “she sacrificed her own integrity.” The problem with this view, John the narrator realizes, is the fact that it reflects Susie’s own refusal to acknowledge that everyone is different, everyone processes trauma differently, and that by demanding Franny handle her rape in the same way Susie dealt with hers, she’s robbing Franny of her individual authenticity:

"Even before she started talking to Franny, I could see how desperately important this woman’s private unhappiness was to her, and how – in her mind – the only credible reaction to the event of rape was hers. That someone else might have responded differently to a similar abuse only meant to her that the abuse couldn’t possibly have been the same.

‘People are like that,’ Iowa Bob would have said. ‘They need to make their own worst experiences universal. It gives them a kind of support.’

And who can blame them? It is just infuriating to argue with someone like that; because of an experience that has denied them their humanity, they go around denying another kind of humanity in others, which is the truth of human variety – it stands alongside our sameness."

And this seems to me to be what the book is all about: simultaneously glorying in human difference while also realizing the problems it causes. Is that the definitive answer of what Irving is going for with The Hotel New Hampshire? Probably not. There are, as I said earlier, many other issues at play in the book, and that’s without mentioning how the book examines the idea of family: what it is, how it starts, what holds it all together, how it handles loss, and so on. There are many angles from which a reader can make sense of The Hotel New Hampshire, but I, rightly or wrongly, made sense of it through the lens of Irving’s sensitive handling of the aftermath of rape. And that’s because I, recently dismayed at the preponderance of misogyny in our culture, selfishly (and in defiance of the Common Core) took ownership of my own reading.

The Hotel New Hampshire is so rich that it invites these kind of readings, and to reduce it, as I sort of have, to a book only about rape, is to do it a disservice. The strongest thing working in its favor is that I could read it multiple times and see an entirely different story each time.

More reviews at goldstarforrobotboy.net

What can I say? I'm a sucker for Irving.

Laugh-out-loud funny, fatalistic, gritty, fairy tale-esque, macabre - all apply. I would recommend one of Irving's "Big Three" (Owen Meany, Garp, or Cider House Rules) prior to reading this if you've never been exposed to his storytelling.

Thank you to Monica for a wonderful Valentine's Day gift!

Am citit-o/recitit-o a treia oarã acum. Încã o datã m-a încântat ṣi am descoperit noi valenţe. Nu pricep şi pace cum de cartea asta e atât de puțin cititã şi, mai ales, cum de John Irving nu e cãutat şi iubit de cãtre cititorii români.