By Stephen King
Language: English | Number of Pages: 576 | Format: Mass Market Paperback | In other languages: (other languages) Spanish , Italian , French , German , Chi traditional , Dutch , Swedish , Portuguese , Latvian , Slovenian , Chi simplified , Greek , Catalan , Polish , Czech , Russian , Hungarian
Isbn-10: 0743412273 | Isbn-13: 9780743412278 | Publish date: 01/02/2001
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"Sometimes dead is better...."
When the Creeds move into a beautiful old house in rural Maine, it all seems too good to be true: physician father, beautiful wife, charming little daughter, adorable infant son -- and now an idyllic home. As a family, they've got it all...right down to the friendly cat.
But the nearby woods hide a blood-chilling truth -- more terrifying than death itself...and hideously more powerful.
Bellissimo. Anche questa volta King è stato in grado di trattare un tema particolare. Come in Carrie le tematiche del bullismo e fanastismo sono affrontate senza cadere nel buonismo, in questo romanzo il tema della morte è analizzato da vari punti di vista e nelle sue varie sfaccettature. Non solo la morte in sè, ma anche gli effetti che provoca la perdita di una persona cara, il modo di affrontarla, il confine vita/morte...
Un romanzo dal ritmo un po' lento, ma secondo me perfetto così poiché senza fretta è in grado di presentarci i personaggi, le relazioni, i luoghi e permetterci di affezionarci a loro.
Elisa95 said on Jun 02, 2017, 23:49
Another masterpiece of the King, another jewel by Stephen King.
It is not only a novel about Pet Samatary and its secret, but there is much more.
Here we know the joy to have a new house in Ludlow. This the joy of Louis Creed a middle aged doctor, and his family.
Rachel was his wife; she was still not entirely sure about this move to Maine from Chicago, where she had lived her whole life.
Eileen and Gage were their children.
When Eileen arrived in Ludlow was six years, Gage was two.
Winston Churchill moved in with them. Church was Eileen’s cat.
Louis Creed had lost his father at three and has never known a grandfather, never expected to find a father as he entered his middle age, but that is exactly what happened . . . although he called that man a friend.
He met this man on the evening he and his wife and his two children moved into the big white frame house in Ludlow.
This man was Jud Crandall.
“My dad built that house across the way. Brought his wife there, and she was taken with child there, and that child was me, born in the very year 1900." Jud Crandall explained.
"Got married to my Norma, put in my time on the railroad, and here we still are. But I’ve seen a lot of life right here in Ludlow. I sure have.”
Norma Crandall, a sweetly pleasant woman who had rheumatoid arthritis which kills so much of what could be good in the old ages of men and women who are otherwise healthy— but her attitude was good. She would not surrender to the pain; there would be no white flags.
Behind their house there was a path; Jud told them about this path leading to Pet Samatary.
"I buried my dog Spot up there when I
was ten. He was chasing a rabbit, and he run on some rusty barbed wire. The wounds infected and it killed him.” He said.
But there was something wrong about that, something that doesn't fit with something Louis has been previously told.
Jud had told him that his dog had died when he was ten—had died of infection after being scraped up in a snarl of rusty barbed wire
But on the late-summer day when all of them had walked up to the Pet Sematary together, Jud said that his dog had died of old age and was buried there—he had even pointed out the marker, although the years had worn the inscription away.
Something else was wrong.
Jud had been born with the century, and that day at the Pet Sematary he had told Louis his
dog had died during the first year of the Great War. That would have been when Jud was fourteen, if he had.
But then he had said that Spot died when he, Jud, was ten. Well, he’s an old man, and old men get confused in their memories, he thought uneasily.
When Ellie comes back from Pet Sematary,
we faced the horror: her horror had been articulated; it was out; she wept because of the human being’s wonderful, deadly ability to translate symbols into conclusions that were either fine and noble or blackly terrifying.
Those animals had died and been buried, then Church could die (any time!) and be- buried; and if that could happen to Church, it could happen to her mother, her father, her baby brother. To herself. Death was a vague idea; the Pet Sematary was real.
“I don’t want Church to be like all those dead pets!” she burst out, suddenly tearful and furious. “I don’t want Church to ever be dead! He’s my cat! He’s not God’s cat! Let God have His own cat! Let God have all the damn old cats He wants, and kill them all! Church is mine!”
It would be easy for Louis to lie at this point, but a lie would be remembered later and perhaps finally totted up on the report card all children hand in to themselves on their parents.
“Honey,” he said, “it happens. It’s a part of life.”
“It’s a bad part!” she cried. “It’s a really bad part!”
“There’s nothing wrong with a child finding out something about death, Rachel! Louis said to his wife. It’s perfectly natural. “
Because, as a doctor, he knew that death
was, except perhaps for childbirth, the most natural thing in the world.
But Rachel considered that place, the Pet Samatary a damned place.
“Do you think it’s just a pet cemetery to her? It’s going to leave a scar, Lou. ! “
At this point of the novel the thought of the death becomes preponderant: that death was a secret, a terror, and it was to be kept from the children.
And moreover we assist to a superb dialogue between father and daughter about life after the death and about the meaning of faith.
Ellie was the daughter of a woman who was a non practicing Jew and a man who was a lapsed Methodist, and he supposed her ideas about the whole spiritus mundi were of the vaguest
sort—not myths, not dreams, but dreams of dreams.
“People believe all sorts of things about what
happens to us when we die,” he said. “Some people think we go to heaven or hell. Some people believe we’re born again as little children—” it’s reincarnation, but I guess you’ve got the idea. The Catholics believe in heaven and hell, but they also believe there’s a place called limbo and one called purgatory. And the Hindus and Buddhists believe in
"Do you know what faith is? Faith is believing a thing will be, or is. Faith is a great thing.
What we know is this: When we die, one of two things happens. Either our souls and thoughts somehow survive the experience of dying or they don’t. If they do, that opens up every possibility you could think of. If we don’t, it’s just blotto. The end.” Louis explained to Ellie.
For most of his adult life—since college days, he supposed—he had believed that death was the end.
“I believe that we go on,” but as to what it’s like, I have no opinion. It may be that
it’s different for different people. It may be that you get what you believed all your life. But I believe we go on. ”
“Do you think animals go on?”
“Yes,” he said, without thinking, and for a moment he almost added, Especially cats. The words had actually trembled on his lips for a moment, and his skin felt gray and cold.
Gray and cold like Rachel's sister, Zelda.
"When I was a kid, I thought of it a lot. Lost
a lot of sleep. Dreamed of monsters coming to eat me up in my bed, and all of the monsters looked like my sister Zelda.” Rachel told her husband.
Zelda died. . . spinal meningitis. . .
There were no pictures of her in the house anymore.
“There’s a picture of a young girl in your father’s—” Louis said.
She was two years older than Rachel was. She caught it and she was in the back bedroom like a dirty secret, she was dying in there, her sister died in the back bedroom and that’s what she was, a dirty secret—she was always a dirty secret!
They watched her degenerate day by day, and there was nothing anyone could do. She was in constant pain. When the pain got bad enough, they started giving her drugs.
But of course everyone knew she wasn’t going to live.
Rachel had started to think Zelda hated her because her back was straight, because she didn’t have the constant pain, because she could walk, because she was going to live . . . she started to imagine she wanted to kill her . She thought she hated her.
Zelda was starting to look like a monster, and she was starting to be a monster.
Victims of long illnesses often become demanding, unpleasant monsters. The
idea of the saint like, long-suffering patient is a big romantic fiction.
When she died, Rachel's parents were gone and she was alone with Zelda. She was only eight and it was a tragedy not only for their parents but above all fir Rachel.
She has lost her sister and she had known the horror of the death.
It’s probably wrong to believe there can be any limit to the horror which the human mind can experience. On the contrary, it seems that some exponential effect begins to obtain as deeper and deeper darkness falls—as little as one may like to admit it, human experience tends, in a good many ways, to support the idea that when the nightmare grows black enough, horror spawns horror, one coincidental evil begets other, often more deliberate evils, until finally blackness seems to cover everything. And the most terrifying question of all may be just how much horror the human mind can stand and still maintain a wakeful, staring, unrelenting sanity.
Louis Creed might have harbored such thoughts if he had been thinking rationally following the funeral of his son, Gage William Creed, on the seventeenth of May.
When Jesus came to Bethany, he found that Lazarus had lain in the grave four days already. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she hurried to meet him.
“Lord,” she said, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But now you are here, and I know that whatever you ask of God, God will grant.”
Jesus answered her: “Your brother shall rise again.”
Cri1967 said on May 12, 2017, 05:37
volerevolare said on Apr 07, 2017, 11:10
Davide Cardani said on Mar 20, 2017, 10:08
Un romanzo horror coi fiocchi. La prima metà è di introduzione ai personaggi, al loro aspetto caratteriale ed emotivo e getta le basi per quello che sarà la restante metà dell'opera. I ritmi sono più lenti, a volte ci si dilunga anche un po' troppo su aspetti non essenziali.
La seconda metà è Stephen King allo stato puro, tragedia e horror mescolate in modo eccezionale. Finale perfetto.
harrymastiff said on Dec 29, 2016, 14:08
Un libro molto ben scritto, uno dei migliori di King a mio avviso dopo La zona morta e Il miglio verde. Immaginavo si svolgesse diversamente nel momento culminante, un po' come nel film. Ad ogni modo mi è piaciuto, si legge tutto d'un fiato e ci sono interessanti riflessioni sulla morte e descrizioni accurate sulle emozioni dei personaggi.
Fab said on Dec 18, 2016, 15:15
Zampanò said on Nov 07, 2016, 15:10
Quando leggi questo libro hai dei sospetti e credi che ti porti in una determinata direzione invece King ti spiazza e ti porta da tutt'altra parte lasciandoti col fiato sospeso. Mi è piaciuta molto la tematica della morte , il fatto che l'uomo non si rassegni e cerchi in tutti i modi di esorcizzare questa cosa , arriva ad essere anche qualcosa di cui non si deve parlare . Ho trovato molto interessante anche l'aspetto della razionalità e dell'irrazionalità : il protagonista fa il medico e da una parte è abituato ad avere a che fare con la morte ma quando poi le cose ci succedono in primis , allora non abbiamo la razionalità se ne va per dare spazio all'irrazionalità che spesso ci porta a fare cose di cui non saremmo capaci .
Il finale è sconvolgente ed è un finale aperto ..quando ho letto le ultime pagine ho avuto un brivido gelido che mi ha attraversato la schiena . Rendetevi conto
uno dei migliori King letti al momento
ilpiccoloRuby said on Sep 23, 2016, 06:41
Un libro da non perdere, che vi terrà col fiato sospeso (sull'ineluttabile destino di Louis Creed e della sua famiglia) fino all'ultima pagina. Ingredienti da sgranocchiare: il Maine (una certezza, come sempre), un antico cimitero indiano, un amatissimo gatto di nome Winston "Church" Churchill e ovviamente lo spettro della morte. Se amate il genere, non posso che augurarvi buona lettura.
Petitegrace said on Sep 18, 2016, 17:50
Premetto che adoro Stephen King da quando sono piccola! Sì avete letto bene, ho guardato i film di King quando ero ancora una ragazzina e, non me ne sono mai pentita. Invece adesso, che sono grande è arrivato il turno di leggere i suoi libri: Pet Sematary tradotto “Cimitero degli animali” è il primo.
In una limpida giornata di fine estate, la famiglia Creed si trasferisce in un tranquillo sobborgo residenziale di una cittadina del Maine. Non lontano dalla loro casa, al centro di una radura, sorge un cimitero di animali in cui i ragazzi delle vicinanze seppelliscono i loro cuccioli. Ma ben presto la serena esistenza dei Creed viene sconvolta da una serie di episodi inquietanti e dall'improvviso ridestarsi di forze oscure e malefiche.
E’ stata una lettura assolutamente fantastica e, dato che ho letto solo di notte, le mie ore di lettura sono state accompagnate da brividi che mi scendevano giù per la schiena.
La storia incolla alle pagine, come se il potere del richiamo del cimitero degli animali richiamasse anche il lettore e cercasse di impedire di fermarsi. E’ un crescendo di incubi e sensazioni di angoscia, ansia della morte e la domanda: che ci aspetterà dopo?
Un susseguirsi di scene terrificanti, inquietudine, cupe anticipazioni e una paura palpabile che tiene compagnia al lettore pagina dopo pagina fino all’inevitabile agguato!
Assolutamente consigliato e merita 5 stelle!!
Mary87 said on Sep 05, 2016, 09:23