This Edwardian social comedy explores love and prim propriety among an eccentric cast of characters assembled in an Italian pensione and in a corner of Surrey, England. A charming young English woman, Lucy Honeychurch, faints into the arms of a ...
fellow Britisher when she witnesses a murder in a Florentine piazza. Attracted to this man, George Emerson--who is entirely unsuitable and whose father just may be a Socialist--Lucy is soon at war with the snobbery of her class and her own conflicting desires. Back in England she is courted by a more acceptable, if stifling, suitor, and soon realizes she must make a startling decision that will decide the course of her future: she is forced to choose between convention and passion. The enduring delight of this tale of romantic intrigue is rooted in Forster's colorful characters, including outrageous spinsters, pompous clergymen and outspoken patriots. Written in 1908, A Room With A View is one of E.M. Forster's earliest and most celebrated works.
“I have cared for you since that man died. I cannot live without you. ‘No good’, I thought; ‘she is marrying some one else’; but I meet you again when all the world is glorious water and sun. As you came through the wood I saw that nothing
..." else mattered. I called, I wanted to live and have my chance of joy.”Continua...Nascondi
Scorrevole e di piacevole lettura, ma sono solo io che non sopporto questi romanzi di inizio Novecento dove vigono ancora tutti quei perbenismi per i quali un uomo e una donna non sposati non devono stare soli in un posto, una giovane donna non può
..." affacciarsi alla finestra o si rovina la reputazione, non sta bene accettare favori da due sconosciuti e tutte ste tiritere di scuse formali che allungano il romanzo all'infinito?? Mi è sembrato a tratti scritto da una ragazzina pudica e virginale..Continua...Nascondi
***1/2 Lovely characters, delightful story, much-appreciated irony and wit. I'm not sure I liked the lovebirds in the very last chapter: one expects overwhelming passion for love and life and gets Lucy mending a sock instead.
Ah, how beautiful the Weld looked! The hills stood out above its radiance, as Fiesole stands above the Tuscan plain, and the South Downs, if one chose, were the mountains of Carrara. She might be forgetting her Italy, but she was noticing more
... things in her England. One could play a new game with the view, and try to find in its innumerable folds some town or village that would do for Florence.Continua...Nascondi
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3 anni faLucy comparing the Weald to Tuscan hills.
This she might not attempt. It was unladylike. Why? Why were most big things unladylike? Charlotte had once explained to her why. It was not that ladies were inferior to men; it was that they were different. Their mission was to inspire others to
... achievement rather than to achieve themselves. Indirectly, by means of tact and a spotless name, a lady could accomplish much. But if she rushed into the fray herself she would be first censured, then despised, and finally ignored. Poems had been written to illustrate this point. There is much that is immortal in this medieval lady. The dragons have gone, and so have the knights, but still she lingers in our midst. She reigned in many an early Victorian castle, and was Queen of much an early Victorian song. It is sweet to protect her in the intervals of business, sweet to pay her honour when she has cooked our dinner well. But alas! the creature grows degenerate. In her hearth also there are springing up strange desires. She too is enamoured of heavy winds, and vast panoramas, and green expanses of the sea. She has marked the kingdom of this world, how full it is of wealth, and beauty, and war - a radiant crust, built around the central fires, spinning towards the receding heavens. Men, declaring that she inspires them to it, move joyfully over the surface, having the most delightful meetings with other men, happy, not because they are masculine, but because they are alive. Before the show breaks up she would like to drop the august title of the Eternal Woman, and go there as her transitory self.Continua...Nascondi
Tears of indignation came to Lucy's eyes partly because Miss Lavish had jilted her, partly because she had taken her Baedeker. How could she find her way home? How could she find her way about in Santa Croce? Her first morning was ruined, and she
... might never be in Florence again. A few minutes ago she had been all high spirits, talking as a woman of culture, and half persuading herself that she was full of originality. Now she entered the church depressed and humiliated, not even able to remember whether it was built by the Franciscans or the Dominicans. Of course, it must be a wonderful building. But how like a barn! And how very cold! Of course, it contained frescoes by Giotto, in the presence of whose tactile values she was capable of feeling what was proper. But who was to tell her which they were? She walked about disdainfully, unwilling to be enthusiastic over monuments of uncertain authorship or date. There was no one even to tell her which, of all the sepulchral slabs that paved the nave and transepts, was the one that was really beautiful, the one that had been most praised by Mr. Ruskin. Then the pernicious charm of Italy worked on her, and, instead of acquiring information, she began to be happy. [...]Continua...Nascondi
‘I am, as it were,’ she concluded, ‘the chaperon of my young cousin, Lucy, and it would be a serious thing if I put her under an obligation to people of whom we know nothing. His manner was somewhat unfortunate. I hope I acted for the best.’
... ‘You acted very naturally,’ said he. He seemed thoughtful, and after a few moments added: ‘All the same, I don't think much harm would have come of accepting.’ ‘No harm, of course. But we could not be under an obligation.’ ‘He is rather a peculiar man.’ Again he hesitated, and then said gently: ‘I think he would not take advantage of your acceptance, nor expect you to show gratitude. He has the merit—if it is one—of saying exactly what he means. He has rooms he does not value, and he thinks you would value them. He no more thought of putting you under an obligation than he thought of being polite. It is so difficult—at least, I find it difficult—to understand people who speak the truth.’Continua...Nascondi
...eppure per tutto il tempo mi piaceva Cecilio. M'affascinava il suo distacco assoluto , la pignoleria minuta di un uomo immobile.. che fa supporre mondi sconosciuti ma che a bene vedere c'è la eco del nulla...proprio come il mio ex marito