Language:English | Number of Pages: 672 | Format: Paperback | In other languages: (other languages) French , Spanish , German , Italian , Finnish , Portuguese , Swedish , Danish , Slovenian , Catalan , Dutch , Czech , Chi traditional
Isbn-10: 1841156736 | Isbn-13: 9781841156736 | Publish date: 02/09/2002 | Edition New Ed
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After almost fifty years as a wife and mother, Enid Lambert is ready to have some fun. Unfortunately, her husband, Alfred, is losing his sanity to Parkinson's disease, and their children have long since flown the family nest to the catastrophes of their own lives. The oldest, Gary, a once-stable portfolio manager and family man, is trying to convince his wife and himself, despite clear signs to the contrary, that he is not clinically depressed. The middle child, Chip, has lost his seemingly secure academic job and is failing spectacularly at his new line of work. And Denise, the youngest, has escaped a disastrous marriage only to pour her youth and beauty down the drain of an affair with a married man-or so her mother fears. Desperate for some pleasure to look forward to, Enid has set her heart on an elusive goal: bringing her family together for one last Christmas at home.
Stretching from the Midwest at midcentury to the Wall Street and Eastern Europe of today, THE CORRECTIONS brings an old-fashioned world of civic virtue and sexual inhibitions into violent collision with the era of home surveillance, hands-off parenting, do-it-yourself mental healthcare, and globalized greed. Richly realistic, darkly hilarious, deeply humane, it confirms Jonathan Franzen as one of our most brilliant interpreters of American society and the American soul.
Fini Tocchi Alati said on Jul 09, 2015, 12:57
Troppo narrativo, mi aspettavo qualcosa di molto più psicologico e di indagine sulla societá americana e sui suoi valori. Ho sbagliato io ad aspettarmi un libro che non è. (Maledetto titolo che mi aveva conquistato). Se tutto il romanzo fosse stato come il capitolo conclusivo probabilmente gli avrei dato 4/5 punti. In alcuni tratti è eccessivamente e inutilmente lungo (le parti sul Corecktall e sugli investimenti, di cui non capisco nulla perciò leggevo e non capivo).
michela.pedranti said on Jul 05, 2015, 07:31
il mio metronomo si chiama giacomo
o qualsiasi nome con la g
non ne ho ancora capito il motivo
questo è un bel libro, ma a spiegarvelo diventa una cretinata
continuerò a battere
Postmeridian said on Jul 02, 2015, 23:53
Kodaira said on Jul 01, 2015, 08:43
Hella said on Jun 29, 2015, 06:16
Attraverso la vita di cinque protagonisti dalle personalità variegate e complesse, verso i quali è facile alternare sentimenti di comprensione ad altri di fastidio e disgusto, si descrive dissacrazione dei valori della società borghese e della famiglia tradizionale. Per rappresentarli Franzen utilizza un linguaggio semplice e diretto, fatta eccezione per alcune ispirate metafore, ma anche estremamente prolisso, portato a frequenti digressioni e cambi di soggetto. La scelta è quella di mostrare l'animo dei personaggi attraverso la minuziosa descrizione del quotidiano, focalizzandosi su eventi in apparenza insignificanti ma che contribuiscono a creare una visione d'insieme.
Daria49 said on Jun 20, 2015, 19:30
Enid sentì che niente poteva più uccidere la sua speranza, niente. Aveva settantacinque anni e intendeva cambiare alcune cose nella sua vita.
Verrebbe da citare Tolstoj: tutte le famiglie felici sono simili le une alle altre; ogni famiglia infelice è infelice a modo suo. I Lambert sono una famiglia infelice composta da persone infelici che cercano di correggere e correggersi, adeguare il prossimo a sé e, per certi versi, adeguarsi agli altri.
Il grande merito di Franzen è, a mio parere, il non fare quasi distinzioni tra ciò che è importante e ciò che non lo è: anche le digressioni che sembrano più estranee alla trama principale, come quella riguardante Robin Passafaro, o la descrizione tanto dettagliata della crisi in Lituania, hanno lo stesso spessore e la stessa tensione emotiva di quelle legate ai protagonisti. Ogni microuniverso comunica con gli altri quasi a livello impercettibile, attraverso coincidenze davvero sull'orlo dell'assurdo (e Franzen è da applausi nel riuscire a rendere plausibili certe situazioni) o, che so, comunicazione vibrazionale o qualcosa del genere.
Il Parkinson incipiente di Alfred, il capofamiglia (e non uso questo termine a caso) funziona da catalizzatore per tutte queste vite (anche le più estranee ai protagonisti) in maniera quasi magica, estremamente naturale e per nulla forzata; e la sensazione finale è che Alfred diventi una sorta di capro espiatorio per tutte queste vite irrisolte.
Il suo decadimento diventa quasi un via libera che non sempre porta a conclusioni positive (la conferma della resa di Gary) oppure a ribaltamenti di ruolo (Chip) o a vendette e piccole crudeltà meschine ma evidentemente necessarie (Enid); venuto a mancare il fulcro, gli individui sono liberi di prendersi le proprie responsabilità, direzionare la propria vita o non farlo affatto.
Un'ultima nota: secondo me la presentazione della quarta di copertina è fuorviante. A mio parere, qui i valori e lo sguardo critico verso la società contemporanea c'entrano poco o nulla. Questo è un romanzo dove i personaggi agiscono e vengono lasciati agire interagendo con il loro contesto e contesti altrui, in un magma che segue l'ottica di chi lo guarda e di chi lo vive, a livello di personaggio e di lettore. L'illuminazione lituana di Chip, che ribalta lui e tutta la sua vita, è a mio parere emblematica di questo. Se vogliamo trovare una morale, ecco, potremmo dire che la morale delle cose è quella che ci costruiamo noi; e anzi, ho la forte impressione che Franzen abbia voluto invitarci a fare proprio un lavoro del genere.
Winter Aubergine said on Jun 02, 2015, 12:36
Enid had felt wrong all her life and now she had a chance to tell her husband Alfred how wrong he was.
No man worked harder than Alfred and if nothing else, he had discipline and the power to refuse.
He had worked for thirty years to make the Midland Pacific a strong system, but when he retired, he began to suffer from Parkinson and dementia.
At first, he seemed to refuse to have Parkinson: he had imagined that retirement would bring a radical transformation. He had imagined himself hunting and fishing, he had
imagined a ridiculous and improbable life of recreation for himself.
However, her wife went on living in her fantasy world, in her perfect life, where everything was faultless.
Enid's mother had married a man who didn't earn and died young.
Avoiding such a husband was a priority with Enid: she intended to be comfortable in life as well as happy.
And now, she had to tell her Alfred while she still had time, how wrong he had been and how right she had been. How wrong not to love her more, how wrong not to cherish her and have sex at every opportunity, how wrong not to trust her financial instincts, how wrong to have spent so much time at work and so little with the children, how wrong to have been so negative, how wrong to have been so gloomy, how wrong to have run away from life, how wrong to have said no, again and again, instead of yes: she had to tell him all of this, every single day.
He was wrong to attempt to hang himself with bed sheets in the night. He was wrong to hurl himself against a window. He was wrong to try to slash his wrist with a dinner fork.
Even if he wouldn't listen, she had to tell him.
All of her correction had been for naught. He was as stubborn as the day she'd met him. And yet when he was dead, when she'd pressed her
lips to his forehead and walked out withDenise and Gary into the warm spring night, she felt that nothing could kill her hope now, nothing.
She was seventy-five and she was going to make some changes in her life and perhaps in her children's life.
Enid's children didn't match. They didn't want the things that she and all her friends and all her friends' children wanted. Her children wanted radically, shamefully other things:
there were plenty of things about her daughter Denise's life that were disagreeable to Enid.
Denise wanted above all to be a private person, an independent individual. She didn't want to belong to any group. She didn't want a label, she didn't want a lifestyle.
She acquires a rep as an ice queen and lesbian and moreover she was fired for sleeping with her boss's wife. After becoming a chef, she believed it was better to work hard and see nobody.
She thought she couldn't hurt anybody as long as she was only working.
For fifteen years she'd tried to pass for a
perfectly responsible and careful daughter, and her father had known all along that she
She'd never really known her father. Probably nobody had. With his shyness and his formality and his tyrannical rages he protected his interior so ferociously that if you loved him, as she did, you learned that you
could do him no greater kindness than to respect his privacy.
To Chip, her younger brother, unfortunately, it seemed that Alfred cared about his children only to the degree that they succeeded. Chip was so busy feeling misunderstood that
he never noticed how badly he himself misunderstood his father. To Chip, Alfred's inability to be tender was the proof that Alfred didn't know, or care, who he was.
Chip couldn't see what everyone around him could: that if there was anybody in the world whom Alfred did love purely for his own sake, it was Chip. Denise was aware of not delighting Alfred like this; they had little in common beyond formalities and achievements. Chip was the one whom Alfred had called for in the middle of the night, even though he knew Chip
Chip seemed beloved to the old man. He'd been arguing with Alfred and deploring Alfred and feeling the sting of Alfred's disapproval for most of his life, and his personal failures
and his political views were, if anything, more extreme than ever now, and yet it was Gary who was fighting with the old man, it was Chip who brightened the old man's face.
Gary was their oldest brother, vice president at CenTrust Bank, married to Caroline with three children.
Her wife always told him how tired she was to
live with a depressed old man like him.
He had promised her that he would never again ask her to go to St. Jude for Christmas;
although he disapproves of his mother's obsession with "last Christmas together "—it seemed to him a symptom of a larger malaise, a painful emptiness in Enid's life—he could hardly blame his parents for wanting to stay home that year.
Gary believed parents have an overwhelming Darwinian hard-wired genetic stake in their children's welfare. But children, it seemed to him, have no corresponding debt to their parents.
He was familiar with Occam's razor, that invites us to choose the simpler of two explanations for a phenomenon.
In fact he wanted his parents to sign up for assisted living and to sell their house and move to Philadelphia as he thought Philadelphia made sense because he was there and Denise was there and Chip was in New York.
But there came a time, however, when death ceased to be the enforcer of finitude
and began to look, instead, like the last opportunity for radical transformation, the only plausible portal to the infinite.
Alfred was remembering the nights he'd sat upstairs with one or both of his boys or with his girl in the crook of his arm, their damp bath-smelling heads hard against his ribs as he read aloud to them from Black Beauty or The Chronicles of Narnia. How his voice alone, its palpable resonance, had made them drowsy. These were evenings, and there were hundreds of them, maybe thousands, when nothing traumatic enough to leave a scar had befallen the nuclear unit. Evenings of plain vanilla closeness in his black leather chair; sweet evenings of doubt between the nights of bleak certainty. They came to him now, these forgotten counterexamples, because in the end, when you were falling into water, there was no solid thing to reach for but your children.
Cri1967 said on May 17, 2015, 14:29
Gabriele Genovese said on May 13, 2015, 21:46
Un fronte freddo autunnale arrivava rabbioso dalla prateria. Qualcosa di terribile stava per accadere, lo si sentiva nell'aria. Il sole era basso nel cielo, una stella minore, un astro morente. Raffiche su raffiche di entropia
Questo è l'incipit del controverso romanzo “Le correzioni”. Un avvio arduo che sprona il lettore ad un'ardua attenzione.
Si entra a casa di Alfred ed Enid e s'intuisce subito un disagio:
In tutta la casa risuonava un campanello d’allarme che nessuno poteva udire eccetto Alfred e Enid. Era il campanello d’allarme dell’ansia.
Ho amato questo libro fondamentalmente per come è scritto. Franzen gioca con le parole: sminuzza, mescola, amalgama generando nuovi suoni.
Il tema della famiglia disfunzionale unito ad un contesto socio-economico instabile è ritrito nel romanzo postmoderno nord-americano. L'autore, tuttavia, riesce, anche nel contenuto, ad essere originale; passa dallo zoom sulla vita dei personaggi alla visione più allargata della famiglia. Correggere è equivalente del tentativo di trovare un equilibrio, una stabilità. Anche in questo senso c'è ambivalenza: si può correggere il proprio ruolo all'interno del nucleo famigliare ma si parla anche di correzione in ambito economico quando si vuole riportare su un piano favorevole un investimento.
Dagio_Maya said on Apr 19, 2015, 05:30