Sull acqua di maupassant biography

Si ritiene che de Maupassant sia nato al castello di Miromesniel, Dieppe, il 5 agosto I suoi antenati paterni erano nobili e suo nonno materno Paul Le Poittevin era il padrino dell'artista Gustave Flaubert. Flaubert si sarebbe rivelato una grande influenza sulla vita e sulla carriera di de Maupassant. Proprio come i dipinti di Flaubert, le storie di de Maupassant raccontavano la difficile situazione delle classi inferiori.

Flaubert prese il giovane Guy come una specie di protetto, presentandolo a importanti scrittori dell'epoca come Emile Zola e Ivan Turgenev. Fu attraverso Flaubert che de Maupassant conobbe e parte di la scuola di scrittori naturalisti, uno stile che avrebbe permeato quasi tutti i suoi racconti. Divenne poi impiegato del governo. Mathilde perde la collana e lavora il resto della sua vita per pagarla, scoprendo solo anni dopo che era un pezzo di bigiotteria senza valore.

I suoi sacrifici erano stati inutili. Questo tema di una persona della classe operaia che cercava senza successo di elevarsi al di sopra del proprio rango era comune nelle storie di de Maupassant. Il successo commerciale della sua scrittura ha reso Flaubert famoso e ricco in modo indipendente. Ad un certo punto nei suoi 20 anni, de Maupassant contrasse la sifilide, una malattia a trasmissione sessuale che, se non trattata, porta a un deterioramento mentale.

Alcuni critici hanno tracciato la sua malattia mentale in via di sviluppo attraverso l'argomento delle sue storie. Si credeva che il tentativo di suicidio fosse il risultato del suo stato mentale alterato. Corre, il nastro di fumo del treno sulla riva! Ho desiderato tutto senza godere di nulla. La catena montuosa dal disegno nitido e preciso si staglia al mattino contro il cielo azzurro, di un azzurro tenero e puro, di un azzurro pulito e incantevole, di un azzurro ideale da spiaggia del meridione.

Ma la sera, le pendici boscose delle coste si oscurano e stampano una macchia nera su un cielo di fuoco, su un cielo inverosimilmente drammatico e rosso. Mi misi quindi a salire, solo, a piedi e a passi lenti. La forza del mare, "caos liquido e danzante". Chi non ha visto questo mare al largo, questo mare di montagne che si rincorrono rapide e poderose, separate da vallate che si spostano di secondo in secondo, colmate e riformate di continuo, non immagina, non si figura nemmeno la forza misteriosa, temibile, terrificante e superba dei flutti.

Le sublimi visioni del Mediterraneo rimarranno indelebili nella sua mente. Posta un commento. Poeticamente Di Stefania Bergo. Terezin era un ghetto sito nei pressi di Praga. Fra i prigionieri, circa Expat interviste I 3 viaggi del mese I luoghi dei libri Mamme in viaggio Viaggiatori e itinerari Weekend. A partire dal , Maupassant comincia a pubblicare a ritmo frenetico : trecento novelle, raccolte successivamente in ben diciotto volumi, e sei romanzi: Una vita , Bel Ami , Mont Oriol , Pierre e Jean , Forte come la morte e Il nostro cuore Nel , prostrato dalle sofferenze e dalle allucinazioni , ossessionato dalle immagini morbose della morte e dal fantasma della follia , Maupassant decide di abbandonare la vita febbrile ed eccitante di Parigi , a lungo vagheggiata ma trasformatasi ormai in un insostenibile fardello, per fuggire in Costa Azzurra , dove prende il largo a bordo dello yacht Le Bel-Ami , acquistato grazie alle ricchezze accumulate con i recenti successi ottenuti come scrittore.

Corre, il nastro di fumo del treno sulla riva! All you want to do is get on your yacht with the two dudes you pay to do all the work, and disappear, yet somehow your journal ends with you hooking up with a buddy at a casino in Monte Carlo. You cannot seem to disattach from your attachments. Here is where things get extremely apocryphal. You know he is taking liberties.

People he meets sure, whatever , stories he recalls. Very interesting vignettes serving both as counterpoint and also a reminder that Maupassant is involved in a novel writerly undertaking. He knows he has to entertain but he has provided himself license to be a little naughty, a little wicked. I love the part where he suddenly has an upswell of good fellow feeling in his breast for his countrymen and claims hilariously that ONLY the French are witty and understand wit.

I would also like to note that I think of late 19th century Paris as a wild, insane, debautched place. That is not too long after the Paris Commune. It is also four years before the guillotining of anarchist bomber Ravachol. Even if Baudelaire does sit on his night table and even if he does enjoy the odd puff of opium now and then, Maupassant, coddled to an extent as he was by ol ' Flaubert, represents something older, something maybe on the way out.

Something soon to go mad and die of syphilis. In saying all this, however, I risk making you think I don't totally love this guy. I totally love this guy! Rick Skwiot. Author 10 books 31 followers. I have just reread with great pleasure Guy de Maupassant's compact logbook Afloat, which purports to chronicle nine days aboard his yacht Bel-Ami in spring , as he and his two-man crew set sail from Antibes.

However, the title is a bit misleading as, thanks to the weather, Maupassant spends more time ashore than afloat. However, the page memoir actually takes place neither at sea nor on land but in the fertile consciousness of the famed writer, where his musings and ironic commentary drift beguilingly from French history to Parisian society, from architecture to death; from tuberculosis to war, from mobocracy to friendship.

But always built on a foundation of enchanting and evocative descriptions of nature—the sea, the sky, the wind, the mountains, and the land. Afloat enables a rare, direct connection with the author for fans of Maupassant, like me. Over the years I have read and reread all his hundreds of short stories in translation, often keeping an anthology bedside.

He writes with a sharp eye and keen ear not only of Parisian society but also of provincial petite bourgeoisie, peasants, and sportsmen, always with clarity and heart but sans sentimentality, and always focused on the consciousnesses of his characters and, at times, his narrator, not of the author. We find thoughtful digressions on peasants, love, land speculation, friendship, and the perils of office work.

Along the way we also come to appreciate his considerable good sense, his iconoclastic wisdom and his well-wrought credo. We get to know him as a man as well as an author, sharing with him a fortifying voyage I will likely take again. Maupassant's description of himself reminds me of someone I know: He seems to possess two souls, one of which records and comments on every sensation of its neighbor, the usual, natural sort which he shares with us all.

He feels himself fated, always, at all times, to be a reflection of himself and of everybody else, condemned to watch himself feeling, acting, loving, suffering, thinking--and yet never feeling, acting, loving, suffering, thinking in the same way as other people, simply, openly, straightforwardly, without analyzing every feeling of joy, every feeling of sorrow.

And when he loves, if he loves a woman, he will dissect her as one dissects a corpse in a morgue. Everything she says or does is instantly weighed in the finely adjusted scales of his inner observation and graded for its documentary value. If she throws herself impulsively, without thinking, into his arms, he'll analyze her action: was it well judged, appropriate, dramatically effective?

Sull acqua di maupassant biography

And if he feels it was a sham or badly executed, he'll condemn it. Being simultaneously the actor and the spectator, of himself and of other people, he's never really acted like your normal straightforward sort of person. Everything surrounding him is seen, as it were, in a mirror--people's hearts, actions, secret intentions--and he suffers from a strange disorder, a sort of split personality which turns him into a terrifyingly complicated, vibrant machine, immensely exhausting for himself.

His unique and unhealthy sensitivity makes him like someone being skinned alive, for his sensations always cause him pain. Pourquoi cette torture inconnue qui me ronge? An entertaining read that provides a glimpse into the intelligent, moody, always compelling mind of Maupassant. Some favorite passages: "We all feel emptiness around ourselves, an unfathomable emptiness, which nags away at our troubled hearts and minds and makes us go, madly, with open arms and eager lips in search of someone to hold in our arms.

The sound of these little oblong pieces of paper being torn open is like the clink of shackles binding me to living people What are you doing? How can you expect anyone to like you if you keep deserting your friends? You'll end by hurting their feelings. Lucky are those who aren't disgusted when they realise that nothing ever changes, nothing happens--and what a bore it all is!