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Ladataan... Deep River: A Novel (vuoden 2020 painos)Tekijä: Karl Marlantes (Tekijä)
TeostiedotDeep River (tekijä: Karl Marlantes)
Eastern Europe (10) Ladataan...
Kirjaudu LibraryThingiin nähdäksesi, pidätkö tästä kirjasta vai et. Ei tämänhetkisiä Keskustelu-viestiketjuja tästä kirjasta. The Publisher Says: Karl Marlantes's debut novel Matterhorn has been hailed as a modern classic of war literature. In his new novel, Deep River, Marlantes turns to another mode of storytelling—the family epic—to craft a stunningly expansive narrative of human suffering, courage, and reinvention. In the early 1900s, as the oppression of Russia's imperial rule takes its toll on Finland, the three Koski siblings—Ilmari, Matti, and the politicized young Aino—are forced to flee to the United States. Not far from the majestic Columbia River, the siblings settle among other Finns in a logging community in southern Washington, where the first harvesting of the colossal old-growth forests begets rapid development, and radical labor movements begin to catch fire. The brothers face the excitement and danger of pioneering this frontier wilderness—climbing and felling trees one-hundred meters high—while Aino, foremost of the book's many strong, independent women, devotes herself to organizing the industry's first unions. As the Koski siblings strive to rebuild lives and families in an America in flux, they also try to hold fast to the traditions of a home they left behind. Layered with fascinating historical detail, this is a novel that breathes deeply of the sun-dappled forest and bears witness to the stump-ridden fields the loggers, and the first waves of modernity, leave behind. At its heart, Deep River is an ambitious and timely exploration of the place of the individual, and of the immigrant, in an America still in the process of defining its own identity. I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU. My Review: Remember when I warbled my fool lungs out about how awful, painful, and enraging Matterhorn was, and then gave it my annual 6-stars-of-five nod? And told y'all to move quick and get the book? No?! What do you mean, "no"?! You don't commit all my reviews to memory?! Ingrates.... The wattage of warbling is lower this time, but then again I'm ten years older. Everything is lower. (I hate you, Gravity.) What is not lower is Karl Marlantes' level of writing: Then, like a seaborne Sisyphus, the ship clawed to the top of the next towering wave, as the sailors fought gravity and slippery decks to maintain their balance and their lives. It's to your taste, or it's not; but it is not describable as bad. I've heard the "purple prose" calumny tossed lightly about in reference to Marlantes's work; I am not on board with this. What might seem purple to some readers is, in my way of looking at it, period-appropriate formality. And the lush sensory world is a feature, not a bug, to me...in historical fiction it adds a layer of depth to the world I spend time and effort creating in my reading eye. What is, I fear, describable as "bad" is Author Marlantes's gender politics. Women, I am here to tell you, do not think about their breasts unless a man is ogling them, or they've chosen that man's attention to attract. (I listen when women talk instead of staring at their boobs. Try it sometime! Fascinating what women know.) I fear that the author's cishet maleness rears its head here. Fly over it (my solution, since I care nothing about boobs) or pass on by. Similarly I Rose Above a character's christian beliefs. Mostly because she's an actual, not a religious, christian. Icky, but endurable since she's not all gawd and church and suchlike bullshit. So all that dealt with, let me say that I think the lushness and enfolding sensual reality of the work is worth the things I don't find to my personal taste. I won't say I'll give it all the stars, I've mentioned places that take away from that level of enjoyment, but the story of the Koskis leaving oppressed-by-colonialism Finland to become the colonial despoilers of the Pacific Northwest's glorious rainforests struck me as very interesting and quite moving. Their fates are, as one can intuit from early on, set in the Old Country. Who you are, at your core, is set early in life. All the Koskis are Finns to the bone. What they do, as immigrants ever have, is try on the identity of "American" over their Finnishness. This is a process that I've always found deeply, profoundly moving. To leave the place that formed you because it has no room for you is painful. But the fact is that when Home doesn't want you, it ain't home anymore. There is no part of this read that I was not able to enjoy. Realizing I am not a woman, I offer the caution above; and I am old, so many anti-colonial younger persons aren't going to resonate as I did to the theme of discovering the identity "American" and trying it on for size. A few of the queer young folk (especially my trans friends) might find the enforced emigration from Home familiar. Bordel de merde ! cria-t-il, sa voix petite en comparaison des collines et de la forêt environnante même s’il se faisait clairement entendre. J’ai passé une bonne dizaine de jours en compagnie d’une galerie de personnages, d’abord en Finlande puis sur les rives de la Columbia River, entre Oregon et Washington, sur la côté Ouest des Etats-Unis. Je pensais passer plus de temps avec Aino et sa famille, mais j’ai été tellement happée par cette fresque historique que je n’ai pas réussi à la lâcher et j’ai avalé ses presque 800 pages en à peine plus d’une semaine ! Aino est née en Finlande à un moment où la conscience d’être une nation en est encore à ses balbutiements mais où la présence russe fait beaucoup pour catalyser le processus. Aino grandit en Finlande alors que les idées communistes s’y répandent. Patriotisme, socialisme… Toutes ces idées en -isme seront la cause de son émigration aux Etats-Unis, ainsi que de celle de ses deux frères, Ilmari et Matti. C’est le long de la Columbia River que s’écrivent dorénavant leurs vies, dans les premiers jours du nouveau siècle, le XXème, alors que cette partie du pays s’ouvre tout juste à l’appétit des hommes et à leur industrie. Au cours des deux ou trois décennies qui suivent, on assiste à la croissance de l’industrie du bûcheronnage et de la scierie, aux avancées techniques et à la croissance des villes qui accompagnent l’essor économique. Même si je ne connais rien au bûcheronnage et que les descriptions des machines et des techniques me sont parfois restées obscures, la description de cette industrie et de ses acteurs, grandes firmes et petits indépendants, banquiers véreux et tenanciers de lieux de perdition rôdant autour. Mais le livre n’est pas que cela, c’est aussi une chronique des affrontements entre salariés et patrons au cours de ces décennies, les luttes, souvent violentes et les affrontements pour obtenir des conditions de travail un tant soit peu décentes : des salaires un peu meilleurs, mais aussi des heures fixes, des normes de sécurité qui évitent les nombreux accidents qui tuent ou laissent des hommes invalides à une fréquence difficile à imaginer, ou tout simplement de la paille fraîche une fois par semaine pour les lits. Cette histoire était inconnue de moi, même si j’avais déjà croisé l’IWW (Industrial Workers of the World, les Wobblies) dans une nouvelle de Jack London, [Le Mexicain], pas plus tard qu’il y a quelques mois, et j’ai trouvé le compte-rendu de cette lutte passionnante, cette poussée entre communisme et syndicalisme dans un pays foncièrement capitaliste et individualiste. La litanie des grèves et des répressions est peut-être un peu trop exhaustive à mon goût, d’autant qu’on sort du cadre initial de l’histoire en s’aventurant dans d’autres secteurs et d’autres zones géographiques, mais ce sera le seul reproche que je pourrais faire à ce livre. Et puis il y a aussi cette galerie de personnages, car ce livre n’est pas juste un prétexte pour nous faire découvrir un pan de l’histoire de la construction des Etats-Unis comme puissance industrielle. C’est aussi l’histoire de sa construction comme nation. Car au fil des années qui passent, les personnages évoluent. Certains sont nés aux Etats-Unis, d’autres arrivés très jeunes, d’autres arrivés alors qu’ils étaient déjà adultes. Cela détermine leur rapport initial au pays et aux langues qu’ils parlent, mais ensuite, chacun suit sa trajectoire. Et l’on voit peu à peu l’américanisation se faire, avec la langue qui est parlée à la maison, le nom donné aux plats traditionnels qui change, le 4 juillet qui est fêté pour la première fois (sans que ni les personnages ni l’auteur ne notent la signification de ce moment qui me semble pourtant un point de bascule important). On voit ceux qui, comme Aino, ont fui leur pays à cause de leurs idéaux et les ont clairement emmenés dans leurs (maigres) bagages, on voit ceux qui identifient très vite les potentialités de ce pays non encore abouti et qui sont capables d’en tirer le meilleur parti. Cette évolution des personnages est, sans que l’auteur semble y toucher, une passionnante description du processus d’émigration et d’assimilation, entre rivalités entre communautés et mouvances des allégeances. Et à cela il faut ajouter les descriptions du paysage, des saisons qui passent, des pluies incessantes, et l’on a le merveilleux décor d’une saga au souffle épique, car Karl Marlantes l’explique dans une note à la fin du livre (une note qui pourrait être placée au début car il me semble que la lire avant de se lancer dans ce roman enrichirait la lecture), ce livre est plus qu’un simple roman historique. C’est le roman de ses ancêtres, car il est issu de ces Scandinaves qui se sont faits bûcherons, troquant leurs hivers de neige et leur végétation rase pour des étés pluvieux et des arbres dont la circonférence peut faire plusieurs dizaines de mètres. C’est aussi un roman qui, il le suggère, reprend la trame du Kalevala, la grande épopée mythologique finlandaise. Cela explique peut-être les décisions de certains personnages, que je n’ai pas toujours trouvées cohérentes, mais qui étaient nécessaires pour coller à la trame choisie, en tout cas cela donne une profondeur supplémentaire à cette œuvre. Et on n’est pas à un paradoxe près que de compter l’assimilation aux Etats-Unis en suivant la trame d’un chant finlandais. Ce roman avait tout pour me plaire au vu de mes goûts littéraires, mais c’est plus que cela. Cette lecture m’a véritablement emportée, j’ai découvert beaucoup de choses, vu des arbres aux dimensions que je ne soupçonnais pas, j’ai senti la pluie sur mon visage, entendu le Kantele, vu la détermination des grévistes et celle de leurs opposants, et je ne suis pas encore tout à fait revenue de ma lecture. Un grand merci aux éditions Calmann-Lévy de m’avoir permis de découvrir ce livre, via netgalley. I discussed this book as I read it with a few friends and could not decide if I liked it or not. That situation persisted right to the end. It is well written and frequently engaging. It is frustrating at times to watch the central character display self destructive single minded behavior. In the final analysis, I would recommend the book but warn the reader to be prepared to accept some discomfort with the journey. Even at 700+ pp., I was surprised at how readable this one was. Not a boring page in the lot. The story of three Finnish siblings who emigrate to the Pacific Northwest of the U.S. in the early 20th century. The novel also covers family and friends. The details of the logging and fishing industries were fascinating, as well as IWW ["Wobbly"] history thrown in. One of the siblings, Aino, is a union activist for this particular union. Highly recommended. ei arvosteluja | lisää arvostelu
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"Karl Marlantes's debut novel Matterhorn has been hailed as a modern classic of war literature. In his new novel, Deep River, Marlantes turns to another mode of storytelling--the family epic--to craft a stunningly expansive narrative of human suffering, courage, and reinvention. In the early 1900s, as the oppression of Russia's imperial rule takes its toll on Finland, the three Koski siblings--Ilmari, Matti, and the politicized young Aino--are forced to flee to the United States. Not far from the majestic Columbia River, the siblings settle among other Finns in a logging community in southern Washington, where the first harvesting of the colossal old-growth forests begets rapid development, and radical labor movements begin to catch fire. The brothers face the excitement and danger of pioneering this frontier wilderness--climbing and felling trees one-hundred meters high--while Aino, foremost of the books many strong, independent women, devotes herself to organizing the industry's first unions. As the Koski siblings strive to rebuild lives and families in an America in flux, they also try to hold fast to the traditions of a home they left behind. Layered with fascinating historical detail, this is a novel that breathes deeply of the sun-dappled forest and bears witness to the stump-ridden fields the loggers, and the first waves of modernity, leave behind. At its heart, Deep River is an ambitious and timely exploration of the place of the individual, and of the immigrant, in an America still in the process of defining its own identity"-- Kirjastojen kuvailuja ei löytynyt. |
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Google Books — Ladataan... LajityypitMelvil Decimal System (DDC)813.6Literature English (North America) American fiction 21st CenturyKongressin kirjaston luokitusArvio (tähdet)Keskiarvo:
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Aino never forgets her losses, familial or personal — deaths, eviction, destitution, torture — and ascribes them all to capitalism. She’s got an argument, but of course it’s a little neat, as is her solution. Her blind faith in revolution, no matter where or when, and rigid reduction of all situations to the same self-righteous formula, wears on those who love her.
To give her credit, as an activist with the infant International Workers of the World, or Wobblies, Aino accomplishes minor miracles organizing the loggers in various camps around the Northwest. But her victories and single-mindedness come at great cost, to herself and others.
Deep River lovingly portrays Finnish immigrant society, and you don’t need to read the author’s comment at the end to guess that Marlantes has written about his forebears. You see the men quick to violence if they believe their honor in question, and their stoic, maddening, sometimes hilarious refusal to express anything verbally. The women pick up the pieces, guiding their menfolk through difficult moments like loggers breaking up a jam at a narrow point in the river, offering coffee and cake, subtle redirection, or unexpected steel. They hold their own, but boys will be boys.
Whether these characters’ struggles will catch you completely and take hold depends, I think, on your taste for Marlantes’s narrative style. He does an excellent job weaving labor history into his story, and he shows how management’s hired thugs, captive law enforcement, and recruitment of citizen vigilantes crushes the Wobblies and paints them as the instigators. (Management did such a thorough job at public relations that I had admired the Wobblies for their efforts but deplored their methods, only to read here that they preached nonviolence.) Figures; the victors write the history.
It’s a heartbreaking tale, one well worth learning about, but be warned: There’s plenty of violence, even when the Wobblies don’t appear. Marlantes, ex-Marine captain and author of Matterhorn, a superb Vietnam War novel, excels here, as you’d expect. His action scenes carry an electric charge, and the knowledge that these people can and will do anything just about anytime keeps you riveted. He loves his characters, but he doesn’t protect them.
He also keeps you connected through intense physical detail, especially the mud, danger, and squalor of logging camps; and the landscape, whether before or after the axes fall. As a Northwest resident (and a tree hugger and hiker), I find these descriptions moving, portraits of what the region looked like before greed and demand for wood got the upper hand.
But Deep River disappoints in a couple significant respects. Aino comes across fully, though I expected more psychological scarring from the torture she received in prison, particularly regarding physical affection from men. Her two brothers and their friends, Aksel and Jouka, also earn complete portrayals, but the others seem more like figures known for a trait or two. All the women besides Aino are strong, which I appreciate, and they have their moments. Yet I’m not always sure what makes them tick.
More importantly, Marlantes’s way of telling emotions gets in my way. Often, he creates a marvelously tense confrontation, building the drama, only to let the air out with a sentence like: “They stood, looking at each other, love pouring from their eyes.” Deep River’s length and breadth may beg for economy in places — the narration essentially goes until the early 1930s — but these moments deserve their weight, and Marlantes’s descriptive prowess clearly measures up to the task. I just wish he had exercised it. ( )