Patrimony 2 csillagozás

Philip Roth: Patrimony Philip Roth: Patrimony Philip Roth: Patrimony Philip Roth: Patrimony Philip Roth: Patrimony

Patrimony, a true story, touches the emotions as strongly as anything Philip Roth has ever written. Roth watches as his eighty-six-year-old father-- famous for his vigor, charm, and his repertoire of Newark recollections-- battles with the brain tumor that will kill him. The son, full of love, anxiety, and dread, accompanies his father through each fearful stage of his final ordeal, and, as he does so, discloses the survivalist tenacity that has distinguished his father's long, stubborn engagement with life.

Eredeti megjelenés éve: 1991

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Vintage, London, 1996
238 oldal · ISBN: 9780679752936

Kiemelt értékelések

porcelánegér>!
Philip Roth: Patrimony

Még februárban olvastam ezt a könyvet – most szeptember vége felé közeledünk, de még mindig azt érzem, ez az idei év legkiemelkedőbb olvasmánya számomra.
Pedig ha a témára nézünk, azaz a szülő-gyermek kapcsolat egy halálos betegség árnyékában, mondhatnánk, rengeteg ilyen történet van. A könyv letisztult, egyszerű stílusa első ránézésre nem tenné ezt emlékezetes olvasássá. (Vö. például Esterházy Péter: A szív segédigéi könyvvel)
Akkor miért is hatott meg annyira? Talán pont az egyszerűsége, őszinte hangvétele miatt. Ahogy Roth az apját bemutatja, és apja gyermekkoráról, a régi Newarkról ír: elmondja a jót is, a rosszat is. Árnyaltan, de nem terjengősen ír; sokszor anekdotákat beleszőve színesíti a könyv fő cselekményszálát. Ismerőssé váltak általa a szereplők és az utcák, az épületek… Megérintő könyv.


Népszerű idézetek

porcelánegér>!

'Did I ever tell you what happened when he was mugged a couple of years ago? He could have got himself killed.'
'No. Tell me.'
'A black kid about fourteen approached him with a gun on a side street leading to their little temple. It was the middle of the afternoon. My father had been at the temple office helping them with mailing or something and he was coming home. The black kids prey on the elderly Jews in his neighborhood even in broad daylight. They bicycle in from Newark, he tells me, take their money, laugh, and go home. „Get in the bushes,” he tells my father. „I'm not getting in any bushes,” my father says. „You can have whatever you want, and you don't need that piece to get it. You can put that piece away.” The kid lowers the gun and my father gives him his wallet. „Take all the money,” my father says, „but if the wallet's of no value to you, I wouldn't mind it back.” The kid takes the money, gives back the wallet, and he runs. And you know what my father does? He calls across the street, „How much did you get?” And the kid is obedient – he counts it for him. „Twenty-three dollars,” the kid says. „Good,” my father tells him – „now don't go out and spend it on crap”.'

86-87. oldal, 4. fejezet - I Have to Start Living Again

porcelánegér>!

If there's no one in the cemetery to observe you, you can do some pretty crazy things to make the dead seem something other than dead. But even if you suceed and get yourself worked up enough to feel their presence, you still walk away without them. What cemeteries prove, at least to people like me, is not that the dead are present but that they are gone. They are gone and, as yet, we aren't. This is fundamental and, however unacceptable, grasped easily enough.

10. oldal, 1. fejezet - Well, What Do You Think?

porcelánegér>!

Then, one night some six weeks later, at around 4:00 a.m., he came in a hooded white shroud to reproach me. He said, 'I should have been dressed in a suit. You did the wrong thing.' I awakened screaming. All that peered out from the shroud was the displeasure in his dead face. And his only words were a rebuke: I had dressed him for eternity in the wrong clothes.
In the morning I realized that he had been alluding to this book, which, in keeping with the unseemliness of my profession, I had been writing all the while he was ill and dying. The dream was telling me that, if not in my books or in my life, at least in my dreams I would live perennially as his little son, with the conscience of a little son, just as he would remain alive there not only as my father but as the father, sitting in judgment on whatever I do.
You must not forget anything.

170. oldal, 6. fejezet - They Fought Because They Were Fighters, and They Fought Because They Were Jews


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