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nzagalo's review against another edition
4.0
Nota: 3.5
“Retrato de Uma Senhora” (1881) é considerada a obra central do legado de Henry James. A mim serviu de porta de entrada, ficando a conhecer o mesmo, mas apesar de alguma admiração suscitada, deixou-me sem motivação para o continuar a ler. James realiza um trabalho soberbo de análise dos processos da consciência humana, na senda do que já nos tinha dado Balzac e Dostoiévski, capturando a nossa atenção ao longo de páginas e páginas de escalpelização dos mundos interiores dos seus personagens. Diga-se que James era irmão de William James, um dos grandes pioneiros da psicologia. O problema surge no conteúdo, nos personagens trabalhados, pela pertença à aristocracia, ou a uma burguesia muito próxima, que torna aquilo que se conta muito pouco interessante.
Existem temas interessantes, como a liberdade e o destino, nomeadamente no campo feminino, mas diga-se que é tudo muito estéril. A senhora, Isabel Archer, que veio dos EUA, dedica-se a passear pela Europa, diz querer ser livre, mas apenas busca alguém com quem casar. O primo, Ralph, que vive há muito em Inglaterra, aparentemente por ser doente, dedica-se a respirar, e como tem de respirar, passeia um pouco menos. Já a tia, vive em passeio pela Europa, enquanto vai maldizendo deste e daquele. Para o resto, existem criados e serviçais, mas desses não é preciso falar. Segundo James, os seus personagens vivem vidas muito complicadas, carregadas de decisões pesadas, que os impedem de desfrutar livremente das belezas de Veneza e Florença. Assim, o livro arrasta-se ao longo de centenas de páginas, pondo à prova a resistência dos mais pacientes, ainda que no final exista uma reviravolta que anima um pouco todo aquele universo.
Reconheço que independentemente da classe social em que se vive o ser humano arranja sempre forma de viver angustiado. Veja-se o caso exposto em “La Familia Grande”. Mas quando se escreve uma obra com esta dimensão, 700 páginas, e com um aprofundamento psicológico deste calibre, espera-se que seja com o objetivo de ilustrar algo relevante para quem lê. Verdade que em 1881 só a alta burguesia e aristocracia deveriam ter tempo e literacia para se dedicarem à leitura. Mas a seguir por este caminho, James castrou o interesse das suas obras, o que me ajuda a compreender porque apesar do seu nome surgir amiúde em textos de análise crítica, as suas obras são bastante menos lidas e citadas que as de outros autores da mesma época.
Entretanto descobri que John Banville gosta tanto de Isabel Archer que passados 140 anos resolveu escrever uma continuação da história da heroína de James — “Mrs Osmond” (2017). Não me admira, já que não fiquei propriamente impressionado com o seu “O Mar” (2005) que ganhou o Booker.
Publicado no VI:
https://virtual-illusion.blogspot.com/2021/01/retrato-de-uma-senhora-1881-de-henry.html
“Retrato de Uma Senhora” (1881) é considerada a obra central do legado de Henry James. A mim serviu de porta de entrada, ficando a conhecer o mesmo, mas apesar de alguma admiração suscitada, deixou-me sem motivação para o continuar a ler. James realiza um trabalho soberbo de análise dos processos da consciência humana, na senda do que já nos tinha dado Balzac e Dostoiévski, capturando a nossa atenção ao longo de páginas e páginas de escalpelização dos mundos interiores dos seus personagens. Diga-se que James era irmão de William James, um dos grandes pioneiros da psicologia. O problema surge no conteúdo, nos personagens trabalhados, pela pertença à aristocracia, ou a uma burguesia muito próxima, que torna aquilo que se conta muito pouco interessante.
Existem temas interessantes, como a liberdade e o destino, nomeadamente no campo feminino, mas diga-se que é tudo muito estéril. A senhora, Isabel Archer, que veio dos EUA, dedica-se a passear pela Europa, diz querer ser livre, mas apenas busca alguém com quem casar. O primo, Ralph, que vive há muito em Inglaterra, aparentemente por ser doente, dedica-se a respirar, e como tem de respirar, passeia um pouco menos. Já a tia, vive em passeio pela Europa, enquanto vai maldizendo deste e daquele. Para o resto, existem criados e serviçais, mas desses não é preciso falar. Segundo James, os seus personagens vivem vidas muito complicadas, carregadas de decisões pesadas, que os impedem de desfrutar livremente das belezas de Veneza e Florença. Assim, o livro arrasta-se ao longo de centenas de páginas, pondo à prova a resistência dos mais pacientes, ainda que no final exista uma reviravolta que anima um pouco todo aquele universo.
Reconheço que independentemente da classe social em que se vive o ser humano arranja sempre forma de viver angustiado. Veja-se o caso exposto em “La Familia Grande”. Mas quando se escreve uma obra com esta dimensão, 700 páginas, e com um aprofundamento psicológico deste calibre, espera-se que seja com o objetivo de ilustrar algo relevante para quem lê. Verdade que em 1881 só a alta burguesia e aristocracia deveriam ter tempo e literacia para se dedicarem à leitura. Mas a seguir por este caminho, James castrou o interesse das suas obras, o que me ajuda a compreender porque apesar do seu nome surgir amiúde em textos de análise crítica, as suas obras são bastante menos lidas e citadas que as de outros autores da mesma época.
Entretanto descobri que John Banville gosta tanto de Isabel Archer que passados 140 anos resolveu escrever uma continuação da história da heroína de James — “Mrs Osmond” (2017). Não me admira, já que não fiquei propriamente impressionado com o seu “O Mar” (2005) que ganhou o Booker.
Publicado no VI:
https://virtual-illusion.blogspot.com/2021/01/retrato-de-uma-senhora-1881-de-henry.html
aarrick's review against another edition
3.0
This was my first Henry James novel and I was a bit disappointed. The story was interesting but it took so long to get to the point and turned out to be a bit too boring for me.
tamterra's review against another edition
This is about the third time I've tried this book, most recently because of the mention in Either/Or. It's always such a slog.
lnocita's review against another edition
4.0
Much better than I expected. I thought I had read this in college, but if I did, I certainly read it differently this time!
redwavereads's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
danelleeb's review against another edition
2.0
Isabel Archer, a young American woman, is newly orphaned after the death of her father. Isabel's sisters, all married and with their own lives and means, contemplate what to do with her when a wealthy aunt arrives from Europe.
Her aunt proposes to take Isabel back to England with her - as surely she will want to marry soon and her beauty and intelligence should draw favorable proposals. But Isabel has little thought for "settling down." Newly rich and with means to live as she pleases, Isabel turns down very eligible and desirable suitors.
Instead, she travels and becomes enamored with Gilbert Osmond. Drawn to him, she goes back on her word and decides to marry him. It is after their marriage she learns of his true nature.
I can't help but feel I spent too much time on this. It sounds amazing; it's raved about its poignancy. There are parts that seem to rush through you with a bit of excitement (well, one or two to be honest). But, overall, it was just too much hemming and hawing to get to the point that made this absolutely tedious to read. Torturous in its drawn-out-ness, I wanted to throw this book into the fire. (Luckily for it, we're in the 90 degree heat that is July.)
Though there is beauty in his writing, James would've done us all a favor if he would've just gotten to the point already.
Her aunt proposes to take Isabel back to England with her - as surely she will want to marry soon and her beauty and intelligence should draw favorable proposals. But Isabel has little thought for "settling down." Newly rich and with means to live as she pleases, Isabel turns down very eligible and desirable suitors.
Instead, she travels and becomes enamored with Gilbert Osmond. Drawn to him, she goes back on her word and decides to marry him. It is after their marriage she learns of his true nature.
I can't help but feel I spent too much time on this. It sounds amazing; it's raved about its poignancy. There are parts that seem to rush through you with a bit of excitement (well, one or two to be honest). But, overall, it was just too much hemming and hawing to get to the point that made this absolutely tedious to read. Torturous in its drawn-out-ness, I wanted to throw this book into the fire. (Luckily for it, we're in the 90 degree heat that is July.)
Though there is beauty in his writing, James would've done us all a favor if he would've just gotten to the point already.
gentrylei's review against another edition
4.0
Two stars for part one—I almost didn’t finish. Part two was excellent, however, and redeemed the rating.
frannieman's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
3.25
fionnualalirsdottir's review against another edition
I had many wonderful moments while reading this book, moments when the writing halted the reading, when I had to pause and admire and wonder.
Moments when the book seemed to speak to my own experience as if it were written expressly for the girl who was me at twenty-two, causing me to wonder how Henry James could have guessed so well the presumptuous ideas I had about life and love at that early stage.
All of that is very personal, of course, and not necessarily of interest to other readers, but there were other moments in my reading of [b:The Portrait of a Lady|264|The Portrait of a Lady|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1502148606l/264._SY75_.jpg|1434368] that better merit mention in a review. I had read this book before, about twenty years ago, so although I knew the bare bones of the story, I remembered few of the details. I certainly had no recollection of reading a particular scene from early in the story, the one in which Isabel Archer meets a stranger in her aunt’s house.
And yet there was something about the lead-up to that scene that caught my attention this time: the house is very still because Isabel’s uncle is dying. Out of the silence comes the sound of someone playing the piano. Wonderingly, Isabel makes her way toward the source of the harmony.
Those six words were like a bell ringing in my mind. I felt a sharpening of interest, an awareness of how pivotal this moment would be in the story. I remember thinking: I've been reading this book with all senses on alert and this is my reward; I've sensed the author’s excitement at the turn his story is about to take.
There was another scene later in the book when I had a similar feeling of change about to happen: Isabel sits up late one night in Rome pondering a difficult decision, indeed pondering all the decisions in her life so far. The reader watches with her and wonders how she will act. And wonders again when she finally does.
There are other major shifts in the narrative but none stood out for me quite the way those two did. In fact, Henry James purposely avoids describing the most significant shift of all, by skipping a three-year section of Isabel’s life completely—which is a very effective narrative device of course, introducing both surprise and suspense in a story that has only a six-year span in total.
As a reader I appreciated both strategies: the emphasis he seemed to place on some scenes and the complete omission he allowed to others. It was all very wonderful.
In fact this book has revised my idea of what ‘wonderful’ means. 'The Portrait of a Lady' is vying for a place as the highlight of my Henry James reading year even though [b:The Ambassadors|775366|The Ambassadors|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1191378040l/775366._SY75_.jpg|1395409] was already firmly camped in that position. I've decided they can be the joint highlight—they have a lot of wonderfulness in common.
When I finished 'The Portrait', I turned to HJ’s 1906 appendix and found a paragraph about his concerns for the reader. He writes that he has purposely piled brick upon brick for our benefit, carefully including the details that will enable us to grasp the totality of his creation. And among those details, he mentions two in particular, keystones in the building of the story as it were.
The first is the piano scene I described earlier. He speaks of the rare chemistry of that scene in which Isabel recognizes that a huge change is about to happen in her life. I felt really validated as a reader to have been aware in advance of the significance of what I was about to read, and so I wasn't surprised when his other pivotal scene turned out to be the one where Isabel sits up late into the Roman night, pondering her decisions. This is the sixteenth Henry James book I've read in six months. Perhaps I've learnt something of the way his writer’s mind works!
More confirmation of that possibility came when he began to discuss the shape of this novel. He continues to speak in terms of bricks and architecture and proportions, and he says that of all his novels, 'The Portrait' is the best proportioned with the exception of a novel he was to write twenty-two years later: [b:The Ambassadors|775366|The Ambassadors|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1191378040l/775366._SY75_.jpg|1395409]. Alongside a certain ‘roundness’ in shape which they share, he finds they also share a kind of supporting beam or rib that runs through them. This rib is made from two minor but key characters, Henrietta Stackpole and Maria Gostrey. Both seem extraneous to each story at first glance yet both are central to the architecture of their particular story. I remember noting that Maria Gostrey was the thread that allowed me to find my way through the labyrinth that was 'The Ambassadors' so it was wonderful to hear Henry James confirm that, and underline the links between the two books as well.
I was also reminded that I had begun to look at his books in terms of architecture while reading [b:The Wings of the Dove|124272|The Wings of the Dove|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1320514843l/124272._SY75_.jpg|121908], so I really appreciated his architectural metaphors.
In fact the appendix left me amazed and wondering at every turn. In the updates, I quoted part of a paragraph on his theories about the ‘house of fiction’. I'd like to quote the whole thing here because it is really worth reading—and it provided me with huge insights into some Gerald Murnane books I've puzzled over in the past, [b:The Plains|1593668|The Plains|Gerald Murnane|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1348154093l/1593668._SY75_.jpg|1586739] and [b:Inland|1593673|Inland|Gerald Murnane|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1239163277l/1593673._SX50_.jpg|1586744], and offered a strong desire to read Murnane's [b:Million Windows|28542495|A Million Windows|Gerald Murnane|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1453684625l/28542495._SY75_.jpg|41544590]:
The house of fiction has in short not one window, but a million—a number of possible windows not to be reckoned, rather; every one of which has been pierced, or is still pierceable, in its vast front, by the need of the individual vision and by the pressure of the individual will. These apertures, of dissimilar shape and size, hang so, all together, over the human scene that we might have expected of them a greater sameness of report than we find. They are but windows at the best, mere holes in a dead wall, disconnected, perched aloft; they are not hinged doors opening straight upon life. But they have this mark of their own that at each of them stands a figure with a pair of eyes, or at least with a field-glass, which forms, again and again, for observation, a unique instrument, insuring to the person making use of it an impression distinct from every other. He and his neighbors are watching the same show, but one seeing more where the other sees less, one seeing black where the other sees white, one seeing big where the other sees small, one seeing coarse where the other sees fine. And so on, and so on; there is fortunately no saying on what, for the particular pair of eyes, the window may NOT open; “fortunately” by reason, precisely, of this incalculability of range. The spreading field, the human scene, is the “choice of subject”; the pierced aperture, either broad or balconied or slit-like and low-browed, is the “literary form”; but they are, singly or together, as nothing without the posted presence of the watcher without, in other words, the consciousness of the artist. Tell me what the artist is, and I will tell you of what he has BEEN conscious. Thereby I shall express to you at once his boundless freedom and his “moral” reference.
…………………………
This book is the final one in my 2017 Henry James season and I can't think of a better title to finish on. But in every ending there are beginnings—'The Portrait' has led me to another book: Henry James says he took the slight ‘personality’, the mere slim shade of an intelligent but presumptuous girl and created what he called ‘an ado about Isabel Archer’. That reference has prompted me to go back to Shakespeare and read [b:Much Ado About Nothing|12957|Much Ado About Nothing|William Shakespeare|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327885569l/12957._SY75_.jpg|2080738].
I do love when one book leads to another!
Moments when the book seemed to speak to my own experience as if it were written expressly for the girl who was me at twenty-two, causing me to wonder how Henry James could have guessed so well the presumptuous ideas I had about life and love at that early stage.
All of that is very personal, of course, and not necessarily of interest to other readers, but there were other moments in my reading of [b:The Portrait of a Lady|264|The Portrait of a Lady|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1502148606l/264._SY75_.jpg|1434368] that better merit mention in a review. I had read this book before, about twenty years ago, so although I knew the bare bones of the story, I remembered few of the details. I certainly had no recollection of reading a particular scene from early in the story, the one in which Isabel Archer meets a stranger in her aunt’s house.
And yet there was something about the lead-up to that scene that caught my attention this time: the house is very still because Isabel’s uncle is dying. Out of the silence comes the sound of someone playing the piano. Wonderingly, Isabel makes her way toward the source of the harmony.
Those six words were like a bell ringing in my mind. I felt a sharpening of interest, an awareness of how pivotal this moment would be in the story. I remember thinking: I've been reading this book with all senses on alert and this is my reward; I've sensed the author’s excitement at the turn his story is about to take.
There was another scene later in the book when I had a similar feeling of change about to happen: Isabel sits up late one night in Rome pondering a difficult decision, indeed pondering all the decisions in her life so far. The reader watches with her and wonders how she will act. And wonders again when she finally does.
There are other major shifts in the narrative but none stood out for me quite the way those two did. In fact, Henry James purposely avoids describing the most significant shift of all, by skipping a three-year section of Isabel’s life completely—which is a very effective narrative device of course, introducing both surprise and suspense in a story that has only a six-year span in total.
As a reader I appreciated both strategies: the emphasis he seemed to place on some scenes and the complete omission he allowed to others. It was all very wonderful.
In fact this book has revised my idea of what ‘wonderful’ means. 'The Portrait of a Lady' is vying for a place as the highlight of my Henry James reading year even though [b:The Ambassadors|775366|The Ambassadors|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1191378040l/775366._SY75_.jpg|1395409] was already firmly camped in that position. I've decided they can be the joint highlight—they have a lot of wonderfulness in common.
When I finished 'The Portrait', I turned to HJ’s 1906 appendix and found a paragraph about his concerns for the reader. He writes that he has purposely piled brick upon brick for our benefit, carefully including the details that will enable us to grasp the totality of his creation. And among those details, he mentions two in particular, keystones in the building of the story as it were.
The first is the piano scene I described earlier. He speaks of the rare chemistry of that scene in which Isabel recognizes that a huge change is about to happen in her life. I felt really validated as a reader to have been aware in advance of the significance of what I was about to read, and so I wasn't surprised when his other pivotal scene turned out to be the one where Isabel sits up late into the Roman night, pondering her decisions. This is the sixteenth Henry James book I've read in six months. Perhaps I've learnt something of the way his writer’s mind works!
More confirmation of that possibility came when he began to discuss the shape of this novel. He continues to speak in terms of bricks and architecture and proportions, and he says that of all his novels, 'The Portrait' is the best proportioned with the exception of a novel he was to write twenty-two years later: [b:The Ambassadors|775366|The Ambassadors|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1191378040l/775366._SY75_.jpg|1395409]. Alongside a certain ‘roundness’ in shape which they share, he finds they also share a kind of supporting beam or rib that runs through them. This rib is made from two minor but key characters, Henrietta Stackpole and Maria Gostrey. Both seem extraneous to each story at first glance yet both are central to the architecture of their particular story. I remember noting that Maria Gostrey was the thread that allowed me to find my way through the labyrinth that was 'The Ambassadors' so it was wonderful to hear Henry James confirm that, and underline the links between the two books as well.
I was also reminded that I had begun to look at his books in terms of architecture while reading [b:The Wings of the Dove|124272|The Wings of the Dove|Henry James|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1320514843l/124272._SY75_.jpg|121908], so I really appreciated his architectural metaphors.
In fact the appendix left me amazed and wondering at every turn. In the updates, I quoted part of a paragraph on his theories about the ‘house of fiction’. I'd like to quote the whole thing here because it is really worth reading—and it provided me with huge insights into some Gerald Murnane books I've puzzled over in the past, [b:The Plains|1593668|The Plains|Gerald Murnane|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1348154093l/1593668._SY75_.jpg|1586739] and [b:Inland|1593673|Inland|Gerald Murnane|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1239163277l/1593673._SX50_.jpg|1586744], and offered a strong desire to read Murnane's [b:Million Windows|28542495|A Million Windows|Gerald Murnane|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1453684625l/28542495._SY75_.jpg|41544590]:
The house of fiction has in short not one window, but a million—a number of possible windows not to be reckoned, rather; every one of which has been pierced, or is still pierceable, in its vast front, by the need of the individual vision and by the pressure of the individual will. These apertures, of dissimilar shape and size, hang so, all together, over the human scene that we might have expected of them a greater sameness of report than we find. They are but windows at the best, mere holes in a dead wall, disconnected, perched aloft; they are not hinged doors opening straight upon life. But they have this mark of their own that at each of them stands a figure with a pair of eyes, or at least with a field-glass, which forms, again and again, for observation, a unique instrument, insuring to the person making use of it an impression distinct from every other. He and his neighbors are watching the same show, but one seeing more where the other sees less, one seeing black where the other sees white, one seeing big where the other sees small, one seeing coarse where the other sees fine. And so on, and so on; there is fortunately no saying on what, for the particular pair of eyes, the window may NOT open; “fortunately” by reason, precisely, of this incalculability of range. The spreading field, the human scene, is the “choice of subject”; the pierced aperture, either broad or balconied or slit-like and low-browed, is the “literary form”; but they are, singly or together, as nothing without the posted presence of the watcher without, in other words, the consciousness of the artist. Tell me what the artist is, and I will tell you of what he has BEEN conscious. Thereby I shall express to you at once his boundless freedom and his “moral” reference.
…………………………
This book is the final one in my 2017 Henry James season and I can't think of a better title to finish on. But in every ending there are beginnings—'The Portrait' has led me to another book: Henry James says he took the slight ‘personality’, the mere slim shade of an intelligent but presumptuous girl and created what he called ‘an ado about Isabel Archer’. That reference has prompted me to go back to Shakespeare and read [b:Much Ado About Nothing|12957|Much Ado About Nothing|William Shakespeare|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327885569l/12957._SY75_.jpg|2080738].
I do love when one book leads to another!
marc129's review against another edition
4.0
Without a doubt a masterwork in width and depth. James has a very special writing technique: each chapter starts with a consideration from the author's point of view or introspection into one of the characters, usually followed by a dialogue that adds new information. James uses long, highly processed sentences, and sometimes very heavy grammatical constructions; the dialogues are intense, especially because of the things that are not said or are only subtly hinted at. And all that is very captiviting.
But there are also some downsides. In terms of characters: the scenes with Rosier are not quite credible, because they seem constructed to fit the plot; the element of sexuality is totally kept out of the relation between Isabel and Osmond; and the absence of a reference to the psychological impact of the dead son is striking.
In general James follows a chronological line in his story, but after some key events there's a leap in time, without explanation of major changes that have taken place; only very gradually some information is given to clarify things; also towards the end, there are some unlikely passages (the friendship between Osmond and Goodwood, and the final scene with Goodwood). All in all, truly a great novel, that I have enjoyed very much, but with some issues.
But there are also some downsides. In terms of characters: the scenes with Rosier are not quite credible, because they seem constructed to fit the plot; the element of sexuality is totally kept out of the relation between Isabel and Osmond; and the absence of a reference to the psychological impact of the dead son is striking.
In general James follows a chronological line in his story, but after some key events there's a leap in time, without explanation of major changes that have taken place; only very gradually some information is given to clarify things; also towards the end, there are some unlikely passages (the friendship between Osmond and Goodwood, and the final scene with Goodwood). All in all, truly a great novel, that I have enjoyed very much, but with some issues.