Kai paimsite šį nostalgijos kupiną laišką vaikystei, nenustebkite, nes iš jos puslapių tiesiai į širdį išbyrės tona jaukumo, pilve susirangys visata gerumo, o kišenės ištįs iki kulnų nuo to magiško kasdienybės detalių kraičio. Skaitant laikas paslaptingai prapuls, vietoj savęs palikęs begalybę žodžių kerų, o pažiūrėję į veidrodį pamatysit, kad veide apsigyveno ilgesio šypsena.

Stories like these demonstrate how a well known author can stretch from their comfort zone. And when your name is Ray Bradbury, its a blessing! Known for science fiction novels that include, "Fahrenheit 451" and "The Martian Chronicles" its a 'breath of fresh air' to be immersed in the story of Green Town, IL in 1928.

With a Mark Twain 'twang' we meet Tom and Douglas Spaulding, young boys who interact with a wide array of characters, each sharing lessons in life. These are the days of Teddy Roosevelt, Charlie Chaplin and fantasies of what's to come. And it wouldn't be a Bradbury story without a dash of mystery in the form of "The Lonely One", a mysterious murderer lurking in the shadows.

Bradbury engages the reader with use of early 20th century language opting for 'gosh, darn and peachy' rather than profanity. Its difficult not to compare the 'episodes' with Tom Sawyer; and that's a very good thing. There are quite a few characters in Green Town, IL, all of them worth learning about. The Green Machine, Time Machine and others are feathers in the author's cap.

Having loved every word written, I plan to dive into Ray's short story collections and will assume they're as good or better.

I first read this during my teenaged Bradbury binge and loved it. It spoke to me personally in a way that, say, The Martian Chronicles, did not. Doug Spaulding may as well have been me.

The second time I read it, in my twenties, all I really remembered was two out of three early episodes (the tennis shoes and the forest picnic) from right at the beginning of the book. Hence I was expecting a childhood nostalgia fest and got a bit of a shock. The book has a dark current running through it.

This time round, I still remembered the tennis shoes and the picnic - but also that it was dark in some way - people kept dying, at least.

And it's true; Doug Spaulding experiences two revelations in one long Illinois summer. The first is that he is alive. It's the first time that he's paid the fact any attention and it's exciting. Everything has an extra zing, even things that had been fairly zingy in previous years. The second is that people keep dying; old folks, murder victims, even folk-legendary characters. They were alive - now they are not. And Doug is alive - so one day he will not be either. Doug recognises his own mortality, is greatly shaken and takes one step closer to adulthood in his now old, no longer magical tennis shoes.

I don't think many people face up to their own mortality at the age of Doug Spaulding in this book, but Bradbury genuinely might have. He's the guy who wrote a story about noticing - really becoming aware of - one's skeleton. Noticing things with greater intensity than normal folks is a great part of Bradbury's genius.

The book is constructed in an odd fashion. Being an early novel by one of the greatest short-story writers ever, it resembles a collection of short stories sewn together to make up a novel. Somehow it works - perhaps because it has a novel's coherence of theme stitching it all together. It's also a brilliant evocation of mid-western small town life circa 1928. Just not nearly as nostalgic as one might expect.

I am not a summer person, but this book makes me wish I was. The lazy days of summer, of enjoying the heat instead of feeling oppressed by it. Running all over town with my friends, disbelieving that the adults around me ever did the same. Bottling dandelion wine against the winter, when each day of summer will be drunk and remembered anew.

Note: The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.

In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook

I remember liking it, but I last read it about 40 years ago and I'm afraid most of it has disappeared from my memory. My policy in these cases is not to assign more than three stars. By way of contrast, I have an extremely good recollection of Fahrenheit 451.

Though the scene with the fireflies, where he has his great insight about Death, has certainly remained. It's a straightforward syllogism, but it hasn't occurred to him before.

All men are mortal. I am a man. Therefore...

love, love, loved this! Bradbury is officially a favorite writer after having loved 3 of his books so far.
No time to write a review right now.

Neapsakomo tyrumo ir gražumo knyga.
Pienių vynas – jauki, šilta, stebuklinga vasara knygų puslapiuose. Vasara kuri fiksuoja berniuko Daglo virsmą, jis dar tik žengia į suaugusiųjų pasaulį ir po truputi pradeda keisti vaikišką pasaulėžiūrą, visai kitaip matyti kasdienius dalykus.

kā man tagad gribas vasaru, bet es vēl neesmu palojis

nav pat vēl divdesmit viens un galvā vienīgi vējš

mums taču miljons vēl jāizrunā

jāiemācās apstādināt taimeri

un jāsajūt vismaz

pēc kā garšo

pieneņu vīns

šis ir TĀDS SKAISTUMS!!!!!!!!!

man liekas, ka vienā no dzīvēm

man gribētos šo uzrakstīt

viennozīmīgi

pienene apgūlās man uz mēles un teica murrā!

ā!

no šīs metafiziski

man pirkstos iekšā dzēla bites no šiem lapu pūžņiem

viss! nesaslavēt! arī šis pāries!

kā man tagad gribas vasaru, bet es vēl neesmu

palojis

cilvēks dzīvo vienīgi tagadnē – jaunības vai vecuma tagadnē -, un tikai tā ir viņā un ap viņu

If you get caught up in Ray Bradbury's usual eerie subject matter, it's easy to forget that he's a master prose stylist and one of the greatest writers of our time. For my money, Dandelion Wine is by far his most beautiful work. It's hard to peg: I guess you could call it a coming-of-age story, but that's much too simplistic for this timeless, complex, and layered book - it transcends the genre. The series of kaleidoscopic, ever-shifting vignettes of one summer in a small Midwestern town - told from the points of view of at least two dozen characters but revolving around one young boy - are by turns funny, nostalgic, heartbreaking, earthy, creepy, and joyous. It's not the Bradbury most people expect, but it's a side of him worth getting to know.

n  ” Era una mattina tranquilla e la città era ancora avvolta nel buio, infilata a letto.
Il tempo diceva che era estate: il vento aveva quel certo tocco e il respiro del mondo era lungo, caldo e lento.”n


Generalmente conosciuto per il solo genere fantascientifico, Ray Bradbury è un autore che si è cimentato largamente nel genere fantastico in senso più ampio.

In questo testo, si allontana dai contesti di mondi o esseri immaginari ma mantiene un altro punto cardine delle sue produzione, ossia quello dell’infanzia nella provincia americana.
Spesso, Bradbury, ha, infatti, scritto storie popolate da ragazzini timidi ossessionati dalla paura della morte, della separazione dai propri affetti e, soprattutto, dalla paura di crescere.

In quest'opera (tra l’altro, largamente autobiografica) si aggiunge la componente nostalgica del ricordo dei rituali estivi come, ad esempio, la raccolta del dente di leone per farne una bevanda alcolica, il “Dandelion Wine” che è poi il titolo originale dell’opera.

”Ma certi giorni corrispondono a tutti e cinque i sensi…”

I racconti dell’estate del 1928 a Green Town vedono come protagonisti Douglas – alter ego di Bradbury- e suo fratello Tom.
Sono episodi che mettono in risalto uno scenario di forti emozioni:
dall’amore quasi passionale per il mondo naturale alle angosce dell’abbandono e della morte e a quel grande turbamento che assale nello scoprire di Essere Vivi.

” Sono vivo sul serio, pensa.
Non l'ho mai saputo prima, e se l'bo saputo l'ho dimenticato!
Urlò con quanto fiato aveva in gola, una decina di volte, ma solo nella sua mente.
Pensaci, pensaci! Hai dodici anni e te ne accorgi solo adesso.
Hai scoperto un prezioso orologio, un raro segnatempo coperto d'oro e garantito una vita, e l'hai trovato sotto un albero mentre facevi la lotta con tuo fratello.”


Una serie di racconti inanellati e di cui, tra l’altro, ne avevo letti alcuni in quella meravigliosa raccolta intitolata Cento racconti. Autoantologia 1943-1980 che consiglio per conoscere questo meraviglioso scrittore.

Un assaggio:

” Il Crepaccio.
E lì, giù in quel pozzo nero dimoravano tutte le cose che non avrebbe mai conosciuto e capito; tutte le cose senza nome prosperavano all'ombra dell'albero contorto e nel fetore della putrefazione.
Tom capì che sua madre e lui erano soli.
E la mano di lei tremava.
Perché? La sentiva tremare, eppure non riusciva a capacitarsi.
Era più grande, più forte, più intelligente di lui, non è vero? Sentiva anche lei la minaccia intangibile che saliva dalle tenebre, la malvagità delle cose che s'acquattavano nell'ombra?
Se era così, allora non si acquistava più forza quando si diventava grandi; non si trovava pace nell'essere adulti; non esisteva, nella vita, nessun rifugio sicuro; nessuno era tanto forte da resistere agli incubi, o alla mezzanotte.””

Yaşıyorum lan. Hayatta olmak çok güzel. O kadar fazla duygu var ki deneyimlenecek yeterli vaktim olmama ihtimali korkutuyor.

Aynen bu şekilde çığlık atan bir kitap okudum. Okunmalı hatta eşe dosta okutmalı.

As a kid, I read science fiction voraciously, and I always tried to like Bradbury. I never could. His books didn't read like sci-fi to me. This particular book has everything I don't like about Bradbury's "style" such as predictability, an almost Norman Rockwellesque dose of sacherine-sweet Americana and such a high level of repetition that one wonders whether he hates his readers, or merely considers them to be morons. All this, and no robots or far away planets yields his penultimate pile of dreck.

On the other hand, I know some intelligent people who like this book a lot, so maybe it's just me.