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anapau24601's review against another edition
3.0
Hubo muchas cosas que me gustaron de este libro.
Creo que el autor tiene un control de las palabras impresionante, su forma de hablar de las cosas más pequeñas y los detalles más mínimos ayudan a que te puedas imaginar todo nítidamente. Parece poesía más que simples descripciones y eso lo disfruté mucho. Hablar de temas como la muerte, el dejar ir a alguien que ya no está, qué significa amar a alguien, los apegos humanos. La novela se siente como sumergirte en el subconsciente de María, con cada uno de sus pensamientos flotando por su mente mientras las cosas suceden.
Creo que me gustó mucho más la primera mitad del libro, cuando aún no se sabía la totalidad de la situación, me gustaba la idea de explorar una situación que como muchas cosas en la vida no tienen explicación, suceden, no hay sentido de justicia, o de razón, solo tocó y toca ver cómo las personas que lo sobreviven tienen que seguir adelante.
Lo demás empezó a sentir demasiado complicado, y creo que dejó a un lado por completo a Luisa como personaje, hasta a María. Y creo que ahí viene mi problema más grande con este libro: no sentí cercano a ninguno de los personajes. No sentí que los conocí, o que tuviera cada uno sus características definidas, todos los diálogos sonaban como la misma persona hablando consigo misma: filosofeando cada situación o movimiento, usando palabras grandes y elegantes. Me costó sentir que estaba leyendo sobre gente real, y al final María solo acabó molestandome con sus razonamientos y decisiones.
Me gustaron muchas partes de este libro, creo que el autor es muy bueno para hablar sobre emociones complicadas, sacar pensamientos que todos hemos tenido pero que igual casi no se hablan, pero en algún punto me fue perdiendo.
Igual, le prometí a alguien muy especial que lo leería, y esta reseña es más que nada para ella.
Esta fue una de las citas que más me gustaron:
"Es la horrible fuerza del presente, que aplasta más el pasado cuanto más lo distancia, y además lo falsea sin que el pasado pueda abrir la boca, protestar ni contradecirlo ni refutarle nada".
Creo que el autor tiene un control de las palabras impresionante, su forma de hablar de las cosas más pequeñas y los detalles más mínimos ayudan a que te puedas imaginar todo nítidamente. Parece poesía más que simples descripciones y eso lo disfruté mucho. Hablar de temas como la muerte, el dejar ir a alguien que ya no está, qué significa amar a alguien, los apegos humanos. La novela se siente como sumergirte en el subconsciente de María, con cada uno de sus pensamientos flotando por su mente mientras las cosas suceden.
Creo que me gustó mucho más la primera mitad del libro, cuando aún no se sabía la totalidad de la situación, me gustaba la idea de explorar una situación que como muchas cosas en la vida no tienen explicación, suceden, no hay sentido de justicia, o de razón, solo tocó y toca ver cómo las personas que lo sobreviven tienen que seguir adelante.
Lo demás empezó a sentir demasiado complicado, y creo que dejó a un lado por completo a Luisa como personaje, hasta a María. Y creo que ahí viene mi problema más grande con este libro: no sentí cercano a ninguno de los personajes. No sentí que los conocí, o que tuviera cada uno sus características definidas, todos los diálogos sonaban como la misma persona hablando consigo misma: filosofeando cada situación o movimiento, usando palabras grandes y elegantes. Me costó sentir que estaba leyendo sobre gente real, y al final María solo acabó molestandome con sus razonamientos y decisiones.
Me gustaron muchas partes de este libro, creo que el autor es muy bueno para hablar sobre emociones complicadas, sacar pensamientos que todos hemos tenido pero que igual casi no se hablan, pero en algún punto me fue perdiendo.
Igual, le prometí a alguien muy especial que lo leería, y esta reseña es más que nada para ella.
Esta fue una de las citas que más me gustaron:
"Es la horrible fuerza del presente, que aplasta más el pasado cuanto más lo distancia, y además lo falsea sin que el pasado pueda abrir la boca, protestar ni contradecirlo ni refutarle nada".
joanamlr's review against another edition
4.0
Primeira experiência com a escrita de Marías, que me era até então completamente desconhecida. O forte deste livro é, para mim, precisamente a escrita carregada de introspeção e profundidade. Posso dizer que não ia preparada para encontrar estas características tão em bruto. Neste livro, Marías traz-nos uma trama acerca da perda, do luto e da loucura do enamoramento. As páginas estão pejadas de frases tão belas quanto profundas, significantes e, quase sempre, perturbadoras. Este romance é sobretudo de carácter, mais do que de ação, por isso aqueles que leem pela intriga e pelo enredo, talvez possam ficar desapontados - ainda que os encontrem em bom. É que os diálogos arrastam-se e misturam-se com os pensamentos das personagens, alongando-se sem pressa por vários capítulos. É um romance lento, que se demora nas reflexões literárias e intempestivas das personagens, sem barrar a corrente de pensamentos - um pouco à semelhança do que acontece realmente na nossa mente quando discorremos livremente no nosso mundo interno.
5 em 5 para esta escrita, 4 em 5 para o livro, provavelmente por defeito meu, que nem sempre tenho a capacidade de manter a atenção sustenida ao detalhe reflexivo que esta narrativa exige.
"O que se passou é o menos. Trata-se de um romance, e o que neles acontece tanto faz, e esquece-se logo que acabam. O que é interessante são as possibilidades e ideias que em nós se inoculam e que nos trazem através dos seus casos imaginários, ficam em nós com maior nitidez que os acontecimentos reais e damos-lhes mais importância."
5 em 5 para esta escrita, 4 em 5 para o livro, provavelmente por defeito meu, que nem sempre tenho a capacidade de manter a atenção sustenida ao detalhe reflexivo que esta narrativa exige.
"O que se passou é o menos. Trata-se de um romance, e o que neles acontece tanto faz, e esquece-se logo que acabam. O que é interessante são as possibilidades e ideias que em nós se inoculam e que nos trazem através dos seus casos imaginários, ficam em nós com maior nitidez que os acontecimentos reais e damos-lhes mais importância."
spenkevich's review against another edition
4.0
A murderer, nothing more.Truth is not always an easy thing to come by. Any event that occurs reaches our ears and eyes from a vast assortment of new media, eyewitnesses, and other second-hand accounts, each with their own unique perspectives and agendas that all encode the same message into infinitely variable packages of information. We all become amateur detectives, sifting through the various accounts to decipher what we choose to believe, and thus creating our own unique perspectives of an event that we will inevitably pass along through our interactions and conversations with others. Javier Marías’ 2013 novel, Los Enamoramientos—re-dressed as The Infatuations to best accommodate the English language—is an incredible exploration of the detective work we all must undergo when attempting to deduct any semblance of truth about even the most seemingly common of tragedies that cross our paths. What is truly astounding is Marías' ability to create a novel with the exciting two-faced dealings and baffling plot twists typically found in fast action, blood-soaked thrillers out of a collaboration of scenes mainly comprised of late-night dialogues over a glass of wine in a quiet living room. Through a re-examination of Marías' standard themes of mortality and language, The Infatuations explores with prodigious depth the effects of death on the surrounding survivors lives as well as the labyrinthine complexities of trying to understand material reality through the fallible and distorted words of others.
Irreversible, unpredictable death casts its grim shadow across every page of the novel. Maria, the young female narrator working for a modern publishing house learns that the husband of a loving and attractive couple whom she has studied and admired from afar for years during her daily breakfast at a Madrid café has been brutally stabbed to death by a homeless man in a vacant street beneath the indifferent night sky. The reader follows Maria as the lives of the friends and family to the deceased Miguel enfolding around her while she plunges inwards towards the murder, each bestowing upon her their unique attitudes regarding death. Through the widow we see experience the loneliness and the shock of having an essential extension of their livelihoods stricken from existence, while through Javier—the deceased’s closest friend—we are treated to a seemingly calloused yet realistic perspective that those left alive must soldier forth and not bemoan past sorrows that inevitably shape us into the person we are at present.
We mourn our father, for example, but we are left with a legacy, his house, his money and his worldly goods, which we would have to give back to him were he to return, which would put us in a very awkward position and cause us great distress. We might mourn a wife or a husband, but sometimes we discover, although this may take a while, that we live more happily and more comfortably without them or, if we are not too advanced in years, that we can begin anew, with the whole of humanity at our disposal, as it was when we were young; the possibility of choosing without making the old mistakes; the relief of not having to put up with certain annoying habits, because there is always something that annoys us about the person who is always there, at our side or in front or behind or ahead, because marriage surrounds and encircles. We mourn a great writer or a great artist when he or she dies, but there is a certain joy to be had from knowing that the world has become a little more vulgar and a little poorer, and that our own vulgarity and poverty will thus be better hidden or disguised; that he or she is no longer there to underline our own relative mediocrity; that talent in general has taken another step towards disappearing from the face of the earth or slipping further back into the past, from which it should never emerge, where it should remain imprisoned so as not to affront us except perhaps retrospectively, which is less wounding and more bearable. I am speaking of the majority, of course, not everyone.While we mourn the lives that have been snuffed out, Javier posits that we must look to the future, the future left to those still retaining a pulse, and make the best of what we have. Our lives are a culmination of each event we experience and our lives are fragile and ephemeral, we should not waste the opportunities we have before the great mystery of death closes it’s inevitable curtains on our story. This viewpoint is initially jarring, however, as light is shed on the motives and character of Javier, we see that the opinions one holds reflect those that are in the best interest of the beholder—we rationalize our reality to accommodate our actions. What is aesthetically pleasing of this European edition of the novel is the thick black pages that precede and follow the novel, as well as the black hardback, which seem to reflect Javier’s presumed belief of death as being a void-like eternity mirroring the time we spend before birth. The novel itself then becomes the interactions of life between the bookends of eternity.
While we miss and long for those gone before us, the return of a person thought deceased may not be the happy reunion we all would fantasize it to be. Through a dissection of Balzac’s [b:Le Colonel Chabert|159434|Le Colonel Chabert|Honoré de Balzac|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1358739267s/159434.jpg|2562935], Javier expounds the disastrous implications of such a from-the-grave return to Maria.
The worst thing that can happen to anyone, worse than death itself, and the worst thing one can make others dois to return from the place from which no one returns, to come back to life at the wrong time, when you are no longer expected, when it is too late and inappropriate, when the living have assumed you are over and done with and have continued or taken up their lives again, leaving no room for you at all.Our deaths become just another event, and life is made for moving on. Maria also offers her own dissertation into the return of one thought dead, reciting passages form [b:The Three Musketeers|7190|The Three Musketeers|Alexandre Dumas|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1320436982s/7190.jpg|1263212] when Athos’ fleur-de-lys adorned wife returns, seemingly from the grave in which he thought he had put her, as a sinful, murderous villain aligned with the enemy. We all play our part in the human comedy, but sometimes when our role has been written out of the lives of others, it is best to remain in the wings and not to reemerge, for our return, brining with it a heavy weight of former selves, no longer has a place in their lives now altered and reshaped by the hands of time. What is important to note is that these are truths held by the characters, and for reasons held hidden in their hearts but offer glimpses into their true motivations. Maria knows her affair with Javier has an expiration date, and that his real aim is with Luisa, the widow, for why else would he preach the importance of putting the dead behind us?
I would never know more than what he told me, and so I would never know anything for sure…Language is central to any work of Marías, and the plot is a convenient vessel in which he can explore the intricacies of words. [a:Jorge Luis Borges|500|Jorge Luis Borges|http://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1306036027p2/500.jpg] once said that ‘language is an artificial system which has nothing to do with reality.’ ¹ Borges often examined the dualities of existence, the universe of physical material and action, and the universe of words, the latter being the method in which we attempts to convey the former. However, language can only probe essence of physical reality, can only build a model or imperfect mirror of it, and can never accurately reconstruct reality aside from giving a cathartic experience. With The Infatuations, Marías explores such imperfections and their effect on our attempts to reach any sort of truth. When someone speaks, they encode their message, their beliefs and intentions, into words, which are they decoded by the receiver. Each party exists in their own realm of perspectives built from preconceived opinions, agendas and experiences that must inevitably interact with their packaging and unpacking of any message, refurbishing it to our particular (and often subconscious) needs. Each message we receive shapes our opinions, from framing a new idea in our mid, reinforcing a previous belief, to offering contradictory or supplemental information that will alter our previous opinions. Marías delivers his novel in a method that takes the reader on a turbulent ride of altering opinions all filtered through the mind of the narrator. Long ‘what if’ scenarios play out in her mind, lengthy and engrossing enough for the reader to lower their guard and allow the information to shape their opinions, and the opinions formed then meet with actual interactions of the character. The preconceived notions constructed towards characters like Javier latch on to anything congruous and gives the reader a sense that they understand his motives and intentions. However, once new information accrues, we must reassess what we know, or think we know, as the truth wiggles and squirms just beyond our outstretched fingertips.
Everything becomes a story and ends up drifting about in the same sphere, and then it’s hard to differentiate between what really happened and what is pure invention. Everything becomes a narrative and sounds fictitious even if it’s true.As soon as we attempt to place material reality into words, we create a story, a unique perspective on an event tainted by our words and opinions. Even recounting mundane events forms a narrative of events that give a spin on reality. Truth is an unobtainable purity, like an asymptote it is something that we can reach for but never truly touch; the closest we can come to it through all our reshaping of opinions with each new version we encounter, is simply our own perspective of truth which, due to language, can never fully be the ideal 'truth' of events. Maria, and the reader must question any new information that is told to them, or heard in fragments through a closed bedroom door. What becomes particularly perplexing is realizing that everything the reader receives only occurs through the mind of Maria, and the reader must then not only run through the possible motives of those speaking to Maria, but also assess the motives and perspectives of Maria herself.
El enamoramiento - the state of falling or being in love, or perhaps infatuation. I’m referring to the noun, the concept… it’s very rare to have a weakness, a genuine weakness for someone, and for that someone to provoke in us that feeling of weakness. That’s the determining factor, they break down our objectivity and disarm us in perpetuity, so that we can in over every dispute…Who can be sure that any character is acting rationally, speaking truthfully, assessing any situation accurately, when their eyes are clouded by infatuation? While a murder and the mystery of why it occurred is central to the plot, the answers are superfluous; it is the examination of the attempt towards the answers, the probing of truth, that Marías parades in eloquent speech and ponderous musings for the reader to satisfy themselves upon. It is the deduction of each jigsaw piece, the faith in our ability to read others, the emotion of the chase and the game, that shines in incredible glory from each page of the novel. The reader is constantly met with discussions of perspectives and different ‘versions’ of truth, from varying translations and editions of [b:Don Quixote|3835|Don Quixote|Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1348176305s/3835.jpg|121842], contradictory eyewitness testimonies of Miguel’s murder, to interesting artistic interpretations of Adam And Eve.
As in each Marías novel, the narrator and those around them are compelled to spill their stories; there is an utter compulsion to speak and let their version of the truth be heard. In Marías ‘ phenomenal novel [b:Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me|1292760|Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me|Javier Marías|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1347231981s/1292760.jpg|1281855], he highlights this desire to step out of the shadows and share what lurks within the dark recesses of the mind and heart.
[T]hey have merely been overcome or motivated by weariness and a desire to be whole, by their inability to continue lying or keeping silent, to go on remembering what they experienced and did as well as what they imagined, to go on remembering their transformed or invented lives as well as those they actually lived, to forget what really happened and to replace it with a fiction.These truths, or half-truths, are itching to come to life, and once they are spoken, they become the property of all those who have heard them, free to be reshaped by perspectives and passed along through endless permutations of fact and fiction. As Maria recounts her journey inward, she tells of characters as they attempt to distance themselves from the murder. However, can putting more versions of the truth between oneself and an event truly remove them from the violence? Does distancing oneself through chance remove responsibility? What is especially interesting to examine is that each opinion expressed is a reflection of the Teller. Maria, a character of Javier Marias, often paints in broad strokes while describing the motives and inner workings of women. This is initially troublesome, especially as women are depicted as subservient beings that pine after men and hang on their every action, giving the book a bit of a sexist taste. However, when remembering that these opinions belong to those of Maria, a character that just so happens to be rather submissive and infatuated as best serves the nature of the novel, it becomes understandable that she would assume that her feelings and actions are a generic representation of other women. As expressed in [b:Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me|1292760|Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me|Javier Marías|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1347231981s/1292760.jpg|1281855], ‘our idea of justice changes according to our needs, and we always think that what we need is equivalent to what is just.’ ² Maria’s opinions on women serve to support her own needs, justifying her actions by believing that it is just the way people act.
While the journey is a bit rocky and certain aspects seem distasteful or cumbersome when they first occur, this is a novel that rewards the patient as everything is eventually weaved together to form an impressively poignant final amalgamation of the individual parts. Marías once again proves himself a master of language, with fantastic flowing discussions of death and carefully crafted sentences that ensure their linguistic subtleties will survive the repacking of translation. There are a few comical moments discussing authors, and a few vitriolic stabs at pretentious contemporary writing trends, that bring Marías’ own job as a translator at a publishing house to mind and wonder where his inspirations came from (there are a few jabs seemingly directed at himself as well that are sure to bring a smile). Despite having a slow burning story packed with philosophical reflections, this novel is full of incredible twists and turns that will keep the reader feverishly flipping the pages. This is a fantastic novel, but is best suited to those who are already familiar with Javier Marías.
4/5
‘There’s nothing like sharing round the guilt if you want to emerge from a murky situation smelling of roses.’
¹ A translation of this clip The following discussion on Borges in this review relies heavily on ideas expressed in stories such as Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius.
² As well as re-examining several themes from TitBToM, fans of the author will be glad to see the return of Ruibérriz de Torres (also spotlighted in [b:Bad Nature, or With Elvis in Mexico|7258106|Bad Nature, or With Elvis in Mexico|Javier Marías|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1360572137s/7258106.jpg|8311094]). Marias seemingly makes Madrid his own Yoknapatawpha through his reoccurring characters and themes that bring the streets and underworld of his fictional Madrid to life and allow the reader repeat visits.
I highly recommend reading Mike's (who first introduced me to this wonderful author), as well as Garima's fantastic reviews. It was a pleasure reading and discussing this book together.
loro_30's review against another edition
2.0
Comenzaré confesando que con Javier Marías siempre he sido un poco sofíamazaguista... ya sabéis, "Me encanta este escritor, algún día espero leer algo suyo".
Me explico: me bastó leer Corazón tan blanco, que consideré maravilloso, para elevarle a los altares, a pesar de que el resto de sus obras no estuvieron a su altura. De todas ellas, Mañana en la batalla piensa en mi me dejó fría, otras dos las dejé a medias y el resto ni las he abierto. Sin embargo, el casi absoluto desconocimiento de su trabajo no me suponía ningún problema, consideraba tener información suficiente para hacer apasionadas críticas y fervientes recomendaciones de Marías como novelista. Hasta que leí Los enamoramientos.
Marías se me ha hecho mayor de golpe. Pero mayor-mayor. ¿Sabéis cuando estáis en la parada del autobús y se os acerca un abuelito a contaros batallitas? ¿Y le escucháis cortésmente, y fingís interés, y cuando parece que ha acabado vuelve otra vez a contar lo mismo? ¿Y otra vez, y otra? ¿Tanto que al final os sentís incómodos? Así de mayor. Marías se repite. De forma externa, repite en este libro muchas de las divagaciones de Mañana en la batalla piensa en mí, y, en menor medida, de Corazón tan blanco. También de forma interna, repite las divagaciones de una página a otra, camufladas entre frases interminables. Los mismos personajes de siempre, en los mismos escenarios de siempre haciendo lo que hacen siempre: divagar en torno a un monotema, hasta que se te pone la cabeza como un bombo y piensas "que sí, pesao', que sí".
Y lo mejor de todo, ¿sabéis que es? Que habrá quien diga: ¡Pero bueno, Lorena, ¿por qué te quejas ahora? ¡Si siempre ha sido así! Y tendrán razón. Pero que te des cuenta tarde de este tipo de defectos obvios, y que te empiece a hastiar lo que antes te encantaba es lo que ocurre cuando se acaba el amor.
Cuando comienza el desenamoramiento.
Me explico: me bastó leer Corazón tan blanco, que consideré maravilloso, para elevarle a los altares, a pesar de que el resto de sus obras no estuvieron a su altura. De todas ellas, Mañana en la batalla piensa en mi me dejó fría, otras dos las dejé a medias y el resto ni las he abierto. Sin embargo, el casi absoluto desconocimiento de su trabajo no me suponía ningún problema, consideraba tener información suficiente para hacer apasionadas críticas y fervientes recomendaciones de Marías como novelista. Hasta que leí Los enamoramientos.
Marías se me ha hecho mayor de golpe. Pero mayor-mayor. ¿Sabéis cuando estáis en la parada del autobús y se os acerca un abuelito a contaros batallitas? ¿Y le escucháis cortésmente, y fingís interés, y cuando parece que ha acabado vuelve otra vez a contar lo mismo? ¿Y otra vez, y otra? ¿Tanto que al final os sentís incómodos? Así de mayor. Marías se repite. De forma externa, repite en este libro muchas de las divagaciones de Mañana en la batalla piensa en mí, y, en menor medida, de Corazón tan blanco. También de forma interna, repite las divagaciones de una página a otra, camufladas entre frases interminables. Los mismos personajes de siempre, en los mismos escenarios de siempre haciendo lo que hacen siempre: divagar en torno a un monotema, hasta que se te pone la cabeza como un bombo y piensas "que sí, pesao', que sí".
Y lo mejor de todo, ¿sabéis que es? Que habrá quien diga: ¡Pero bueno, Lorena, ¿por qué te quejas ahora? ¡Si siempre ha sido así! Y tendrán razón. Pero que te des cuenta tarde de este tipo de defectos obvios, y que te empiece a hastiar lo que antes te encantaba es lo que ocurre cuando se acaba el amor.
Cuando comienza el desenamoramiento.
farfuglietti's review against another edition
5.0
Userò tutti i termini al femminile, perché così accade nel libro, altrimenti si confonde il tutto.
Come sono felice che mi sia piaciuto questo libro. Sono felice perché mi è piaciuto dalla prima all'ultima pagina.
Non so nemmeno da dove iniziare questa recensione, ma qualcosa lo voglio dire, non voglio tacere su questo magnifico libro.
Gli innamoramenti è uno di quei libri densi. Ma non densi di azione, bensì densi di significato e riflessioni.
Riflessioni sulla morte, sull'amore, sulla vita.
Mai mi era capito di pensare come una persona affronta un lutto. O meglio, sì, ci avevo pensato, ma molto superficialmente e tutto quello che riuscivo a pensare era "Beh, ma se muore il marito e i due hanno avuto dei figli, l'altro vivrà con la consapevolezza di dover continuare per far crescere bene i figli e saranno loro a consolarla, anche senza sapere ciò che che è accaduto". Non è così facile. Perché leggendo questo libro ho capito che a volte i figli, pur essendo le persone che si amano di più al mondo, in un momento di lutto possono essere un peso. Una vedova magari ha bisogno di stare da sola, di non doversi nascondere per piangere, per non farsi vedere dai figli. E anche se comunque si continua a curare i figli, sono un peso enorme.
Pensavo anche che se ami tanto tuo marito, se lui muore la vedova non riuscirà a vivere e probabilmente si suiciderà. Ebbene, non è così, perché la percentuale di persone che si suicida dopo un lutto è poca, perché anche se hai perso una persona a te cara, la voglia di un uomo di vivere vince su questo lutto.
E una persona, senza volerlo, riesce ad andare avanti. Con il tempo riesce a capire il senso della frase "Sono vedova. Sono rimasta vedova" e con il tempo magari si incontrerà un'altra persona e il marito sarà solo un ricordo, un'immagine sfocata.
Sono vedova. Sono rimasta vedova. Ho perduto il mio primo marito e mi si sta allontanando sempre di più. E' da troppo tempo che non lo vedo e invece quest'altro uomo è qui accanto a me e oltretutto c'è sempre. Anche lui lo chiamo marito, è strano. Ma ha occupato il suo posto nel mio letto e la giustapposizione lo fa sfumare e lo cancella. Un po' di più ogni giorno, im po' di più ogni notte.
Un altro aspetto che mi è piaciuto molto è, ovviamente, la scrittura di Javier Marìas. Scrive in un modo meraviglioso.
Quando qualcosa deve accadere, lui aspetta a farlo accadere, riempie l'attesa di riflessioni e tu devi andare avanti per sapere cosa succede, ma ti fermi sulle riflessioni lo stesso e il risultato è che non riesci a staccarti dalle pagine.
Ma la cosa che mi è piaciuta di più è che Marìas non ti racconta una storia, te ne racconta due, tre e non decide lui quale storia sia quella vera, ma lascia a te la scelta, lascia a te la libertà di interpretazione, un po' come è successo con Vita di Pi.
Ah, e mi ha anche spoilerato I tre moschettieri.
Grazie Lucrezia per aver buttato questo libro nel pozzo letterario, è stata veramente una lettura magnifica.
Come sono felice che mi sia piaciuto questo libro. Sono felice perché mi è piaciuto dalla prima all'ultima pagina.
Non so nemmeno da dove iniziare questa recensione, ma qualcosa lo voglio dire, non voglio tacere su questo magnifico libro.
Gli innamoramenti è uno di quei libri densi. Ma non densi di azione, bensì densi di significato e riflessioni.
Riflessioni sulla morte, sull'amore, sulla vita.
Mai mi era capito di pensare come una persona affronta un lutto. O meglio, sì, ci avevo pensato, ma molto superficialmente e tutto quello che riuscivo a pensare era "Beh, ma se muore il marito e i due hanno avuto dei figli, l'altro vivrà con la consapevolezza di dover continuare per far crescere bene i figli e saranno loro a consolarla, anche senza sapere ciò che che è accaduto". Non è così facile. Perché leggendo questo libro ho capito che a volte i figli, pur essendo le persone che si amano di più al mondo, in un momento di lutto possono essere un peso. Una vedova magari ha bisogno di stare da sola, di non doversi nascondere per piangere, per non farsi vedere dai figli. E anche se comunque si continua a curare i figli, sono un peso enorme.
Pensavo anche che se ami tanto tuo marito, se lui muore la vedova non riuscirà a vivere e probabilmente si suiciderà. Ebbene, non è così, perché la percentuale di persone che si suicida dopo un lutto è poca, perché anche se hai perso una persona a te cara, la voglia di un uomo di vivere vince su questo lutto.
E una persona, senza volerlo, riesce ad andare avanti. Con il tempo riesce a capire il senso della frase "Sono vedova. Sono rimasta vedova" e con il tempo magari si incontrerà un'altra persona e il marito sarà solo un ricordo, un'immagine sfocata.
Sono vedova. Sono rimasta vedova. Ho perduto il mio primo marito e mi si sta allontanando sempre di più. E' da troppo tempo che non lo vedo e invece quest'altro uomo è qui accanto a me e oltretutto c'è sempre. Anche lui lo chiamo marito, è strano. Ma ha occupato il suo posto nel mio letto e la giustapposizione lo fa sfumare e lo cancella. Un po' di più ogni giorno, im po' di più ogni notte.
Un altro aspetto che mi è piaciuto molto è, ovviamente, la scrittura di Javier Marìas. Scrive in un modo meraviglioso.
Quando qualcosa deve accadere, lui aspetta a farlo accadere, riempie l'attesa di riflessioni e tu devi andare avanti per sapere cosa succede, ma ti fermi sulle riflessioni lo stesso e il risultato è che non riesci a staccarti dalle pagine.
Ma la cosa che mi è piaciuta di più è che Marìas non ti racconta una storia, te ne racconta due, tre e non decide lui quale storia sia quella vera, ma lascia a te la scelta, lascia a te la libertà di interpretazione, un po' come è successo con Vita di Pi.
Ah, e mi ha anche spoilerato I tre moschettieri.
Grazie Lucrezia per aver buttato questo libro nel pozzo letterario, è stata veramente una lettura magnifica.
deborahwithanoh's review against another edition
Now this is literature. This book appears to have all the hallmarks of a mystery or thriller, but, like everything in the book itself, it's not what it seems. The mystery that the entire book revolves around is never resolved, and we are left to draw our own conclusions. But the book itself says this, multiple times: what happens on the surface level in the plot of a novel is of little importance. Much longer-lasting are the possibilities and thoughts it inspires in the reader. And this book, ruminative and philosophical throughout, made me think about my own life, about the inexplicable nature of infatuation and of how intrinsically being in love and being loved is linked to being alive; and being replaced and forgotten, being free of want, to being dead. I felt that it was introspective and often very spot-on about human nature. The prose style was also captivating and despite the serious nature of most of the novel, there were a few moments of just absurd silliness that made me laugh out loud.
book7worm's review against another edition
1.0
This book was not for me. I gave up after 150 pages. A lot of pretentious rambling and not a lot of story.
daevjohn'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
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
dreynoldsbook's review against another edition
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Marias had such a unique voice. This novel is half recounting a story and half imagining what might have happened, might have been said. It’s very cerebral and philosophical. It’s not going to appeal to every reader. Especially in an age where long meandering sentences are frowned upon. Marias is definitely a storyTELLER. Reading his novels is a nice change of pace from the contemporary norm .
The only problem I found was that everyone spoke in a similar dry and analytical manner. But you have to accept that it’s quite a stylised novel, not naturalistic.
The only problem I found was that everyone spoke in a similar dry and analytical manner. But you have to accept that it’s quite a stylised novel, not naturalistic.