The hours Michael Cunningham
This extraordinary novel imagines and tells some pieces di vita di tre donne: una è Virginia Woolf - tra le tre è l'unica che storicamente è esistita realmente e a cui questo romanzo sembra essere un omaggio; le altre due sono Laura Brown , giovane donna appartenente a una middleclass decadente ed educatamente disperata, e Clarrisa Vaughan , anima colta e curiosa, che si ritrova ad avere a che fare con la morte per aids di Richard, forse l'unico uomo che lei abbia mai amato.
The three protagonists live and move in three different historical moments, but their stories eventually intertwine through various connections, similarities and identical eyes through which to scrutinize the world, a look of curiosity that is both vivid and anguished .
Laura Brown
While driving his Chevrolet on the Pasadena Freeway, between the hills in some places still The fire burned for the year before, the feeling of dreaming or, more precisely, to remember this trip by car from a dream long ago. All I see gives the impression of being nailed to a day like butterflies etherization are glued to a panel. Here are the blacks slopes of the hills dotted with pastel-colored stucco houses that were spared by the flames. Here's the gloomy sky, blue and white. Laura driving competently, neither too slow nor too fast, occasionally checking the rearview mirror. It 'a woman in a car who dreams of being in a car.
He left his son by Mrs. Latch, who lives down the street. He invented a commission last minute due to her husband's birthday.
He had a panic attack - believed that "panic" is the right word. He tried to get stretched out for a few minutes while the child slept, tried to read a bit ', but could not concentrate. E 'remained lying on the bed with the book in his hands, feeling drained, exhausted, for the child, for the cake, for the kiss. It all comes down, in a sense, these three elements, and while he was lying on the bed with the shutters down and the night lamp on, trying to read, wondered: is this which means crazy? Not if it had never imagined - when he thought to someone (a woman like her) who lost his head, he had imagined screams and moans, hallucinations, but in that moment it seemed clear that there was another way, much quieter: a way, rather than confused and desperate, flat, so that a strong emotion such as pain was a relief.