Tangi 1 csillagozás

Witi Ihimaera: Tangi

My mother was the Earth. My father was the Sky. They were Rangi tane and Papa tuanuku, the first parents, who clasped each other so tightly that there was no day. Their children were born into darkness…

This is Tangi, a poetic drama in prose, about a young man and his father.
This is Tangi, an account of death, but also an affirmation of life.
This is Tangi, describing simply and sincerely, the Maori values placed on life; and on aroha, love and sympathy for each other.
This is Tangi, a vivid expression of the village family unity of rural Maori life.
This is Tangi, written in the hope that such a life, and the values of that life, will never be lost.
This is Tangi, the first novel written by a Maori to be published.
Haere mai, haere mai, haere mai.

>!
Heinemann, Auckland, 1974
208 oldal

Várólistára tette 1


Kiemelt értékelések

Coralie >!
Witi Ihimaera: Tangi

Egy maori család életébe enged bepillantást, ahol az apa váratlan halála felborítja az életüket. A könyv lényegében egy visszaemlékezés, ugrások sorozata az időben, ahogy a legidősebb fiú, Tama, felidézi a gyermekkorát, az apja iránt érzett szeretetét. Bűntudat is gyötri, amiért nem töltötte az utolsó heteket a családja és az apja mellett. Az emlékek szépek, és erősen érződik a gyász a gondolataiból, ezért van benne jó pár szomorú pillanat. Ugyanakkor maga az írás stílusa annyira nem vált be, túl sok az ismétlődés, néha nehéz követni, hogy időben hol járunk éppen, és eléggé egy kezdő író benyomását kelti.


Népszerű idézetek

Coralie >!

I smile to myself. These children and my family, they are my world. When they are sad, I am sad. When they are happy, I am happy. These other people waiting on the railway platform, they belong to another world. It is strange that this other world can surround you with voices and yet you can exist apart from them, not hearing nor caring to hear. These people too have their own lives. They and I are strangers to each other, holding only one bond in common: that we travel together. For each of us, the rest of life and other people are a kind of dream, a blurred remoteness.

7. oldal

Coralie >!

As I look out the window, I recall a phrase Dad always used to say to me.
– To manawa, e taku manawa.
He would point at his heart and then mine. I too, would place my small palm upon his chest and then on my own. As long as I felt his heart beating beneath my palm I was not afraid.
– Your heart is my heart.

48. oldal


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