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It's no wonder why this book is on so many "Must Read Lists." This book is that good. The premise of the story is of an older woman writing of her family's past and present, but of a family from which she and her twin sister are excluded. Their father doesn't acknowledge them, but fortunately, an uncle does. The story is written in conversational English and is hilarious. There are so many metaphors and cliches appropriately sprinkled throughout this story that it just flows. It flows so well that I finished it in two sittings because I couldn't put it down. I give it five stars and I've added this to my favorites list. ( )
A bizarre carnival of characters dancing and singing through an improbable plot. It's easy to suspend disbelief and enjoy the ride marveling at the imagination of the author. ( )
I like Angela Carter's style and her use of language is expressive. Her imagination is also something to admire and because of those things I wish I would have liked this book more. The story is told by an old lady looking back at her extraordinary life. It is filled with twins and quirky personalities and characters. The story itself consists of various, often somehow odd and failing, relationships and as such it resembles too much of a soap opera, where the only aim of the characters is either to win or destroy a relationship. Otherwise the characters have no motivation to act or to live and this makes both the story and the characters very flat. It was very difficult for me to care for either one. ( )
This is a completely over the top, coincidences and bullshit galore story, and I loved it. Probably helped that the intro gave me a strong sense of what to expect from the story, as it is outside the genres I normally read in, and I wold have missed a lot without that. The narrative voice of Dora Chance is so matter of fact and practical and I adored her. ( )
Wise Children inhabits its own manic universe and would probably translate into a spirited, bawdy musical comedy-farce of the kind in which the Chance sisters themselves performed, long ago.
hinzugefügt von arcaedia | bearbeitenThe New York Times Book Review, Joyce Carol Oates
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Brush up your Shakespeare. -- Cole Porter
It's a wise child that knows its own father. -- Old saw
How many times Shakespeare draws fathers and daughters, never mothers and daughters. -- Ellen Terry
Widmung
Erste Worte
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Q. Why is London like Budapest?
A. Because it is two cities divided by a river.
Zitate
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There was a house we all had in common and it was called, the past, even though we'd lived in different rooms.
I tried to laugh but it was wry. I was sad. Sad. Nothing more than sad. Let's not call it a tragedy; a broken heart is never a tragedy. Only untimely death is a tragedy.
It's the American tragedy in a nutshell. They look around the world and think: "There must be something better!" But there isn't. Sorry, chum. This is it. What you see is what you get. Only the here and now.
When I was young, I'd wanted to be ephemeral, I'd wanted the moment, to live in just the glorious moment, the rush of blood, the applause. Pluck the day. Eat the peach. Tomorrow never comes. But, oh yes, tomorrow does come all right, and when it comes it lasts a bloody long time, I can tell you. But if you've put your past on celluloid, it keeps. You've stored it away, like jam, for winter.
“Yes, indeed; I have my memories but I prefer to keep them to myself, thank you very much. Though there are some things I never can forget. The cock that used to crow, early in the morning, in Bond Street. And I saw a zebra once, he was galloping down Camden High street, his stripes fluoresced. I was in some garret with a free Norwegian. And the purple flowers that would pop up on the bomb-sites almost before the ruins stopped smoking, as if to say, life goes on, even if you don’t.”
Letzte Worte
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