

A carregar... A month in the country. (original 1980; edição 1999)por J. L. Carr (Autor)
Pormenores da obraA Month in the Country por J. L. Carr (1980)
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Favourite Books (241) Folio Society (60) » 28 mais Top Five Books of 2013 (240) Booker Prize (117) Books Read in 2020 (158) Top Five Books of 2014 (382) Five star books (275) Short and Sweet (84) 20th Century Literature (465) A Novel Cure (237) Books Read in 2017 (1,110) Backlisted (1) Sense of place (24) Books Read in 2019 (3,002) 1980s (152) Backlisted Podcast (14) E's Reader (17) Ainda não há conversas na Discussão sobre este livro. Up in the belfry quite the romantic figure an artist, of sorts. JUST KISS HER, DUDE!!! WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU! This book was about a mural restoration on artwork from the Middle Ages, and it was actually cool. I really should be happy about it. But damn it, dude, I really wish you'd kissed her! It's great reading about people who are as repressed emotionally and physically as I am, but it's not great at all and I can't stand it WHY DIDN'T YOU KISS HER?!?!?? 823.914 CAR A quintessentially English novel. Short in length yet full of insight; funny, dark, perfectly formed.
Reissued as part of the Penguin Decades series, JL Carr's slender, Booker-shortlisted and semi-autobiographical novel was published in 1980 but looks back to an earlier time. The narrator, Tom Birkin, reflects on a summer spent in the small Yorkshire village of Oxgodby in 1920. Near destitute and still visibly shaken by his experiences during the first world war and through the painful break-up of his marriage, he has been assigned the job of restoring a medieval mural hidden beneath whitewash on the wall of the village church. As he painstakingly removes several centuries' worth of paint and grime he becomes gradually less closed off and begins to make friends within the community, in particular with Moon, another war veteran, who is camped in the churchyard, ostensibly looking for a lost grave. As Birkin uncovers patches of gilt and cinnabar up on his scaffold, Moon digs his pits outside the church walls; both of them are striving for some sort of, if not restoration, then freedom from their past, and for Birkin, at least, his stay at Oxgodby is a time of healing. Slim as it is, this is a tender and elegant novel that seemingly effortlessly weaves several strands together. Carr has a knack for bringing certain scenes into sudden, sharp focus, rather as waves lift forgotten things to the surface. He writes with particular precision and admiration about the joys of skilled men going about their business. He also subtly evokes lost rural customs and ways of living that, even at the time, had begun to fade from view: cart rides and seed cake and honey-thick accents that had not yet been filed down by mass communication. The sense of things lost to time is pronounced but not overplayed and there's a gently elegiac quality to the developing picture of a warm and hazy English countryside summer. This pleasant vision is countered by his rawer and more acute account of the deep mark left on a man when a chance of happiness is glimpsed and missed and left to settle in the memory. Belongs to Publisher SeriesPenguin Decades (1980s) Está contido emTem a adaptação
In J. L. Carr's deeply charged poetic novel, Tom Birkin, a veteran of the Great War and a broken marriage, arrives in the remote Yorkshire village of Oxgodby where he is to restore a recently discovered medieval mural in the local church. Living in the bell tower, surrounded by the resplendent countryside of high summer, and laboring each day to uncover an anonymous painter's depiction of the apocalypse, Birkin finds that he himself has been restored to a new, and hopeful, attachment to life. But summer ends, and with the work done, Birkin must leave. Now, long after, as he reflects on the passage of time and the power of art, he finds in his memories some consolation for all that has been lost.Copyright © Libri GmbH. All rights reserved. Não foram encontradas descrições de bibliotecas. |
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Quotable:
"If I'd stayed there, would I always have been happy? No, I suppose not. People move away, grow older, die, and the bright belief that there will be another marvelous thing around each corner fades. It is now or never; we must snatch happiness as it flies."
"Then he fetched a camera and photographed it from all sides. 'For publication!' he explained. 'Against the day when I need a job at a university. They don't want to know if you're any good: just what you've published...'"
"We can ask and ask but we can't have again what once seemed ours for ever--the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on a belfry floor, a remembered voice, the touch of a hand, a loved face. They've gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass." (