Frases de John Cheever

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John Cheever

Data de nascimento: 27. Maio 1912
Data de falecimento: 18. Junho 1982
Outros nomes: جان چیور

John Cheever , contista americano. De entre as suas obras mais famosas contam-se The Stories of John Cheever que recebeu o Prémio Pulitzer de Ficção em 1979 e Falconer.

Por vezes apelidado de "Chekhov dos subúrbios", a sua ficção utiliza como cenário o Upper East Side de Manhattan, os subúrbios de Westchester County, em Nova Iorque, e pequenas vilas e cidades de New England e South Shore, perto de Quincy, no Massachusetts, onde o escritor nasceu.

Cheever ficou conhecido pelos seus contos , mas também escreveu romances, como The Wapshot Chronicle , The Wapshot Scandal , Bullet Park, and Falconer.

A sua obra foca-se na dualidade da natureza humana: por vezes dramatizada como a disparidade entre a persona social conservadora dos personagens e a sua degradação interior, e por vezes como o conflito entre dois personagens que reflectem pólos contraditórios - luz e sombra, carne e espírito. Muitos dos seus livros exprimem também a nostalgia de um estilo de vida em extinção , caracterizado por um profundo senso de comunidade e de tradições culturais, em oposição ao nomadismo alienante dos subúrbios.

Uma compilação dos seus contos , The Stories of John Cheever, foi premiado com o Prémio Pulitzer de Ficção, em 1979, e com o National Book Critics Circle Award. Em 1982, seis semanas antes da sua morte, Cheever foi galardoado com a Medalha Nacional para Literatura pela American Academy of Arts and Letters.

Citações John Cheever














John Cheever foto
John Cheever126
American novelist and short story writer 1912 – 1982
„But I awoke at three, feeling terribly sad, and feeling rebelliously that I didn't want to study sadness, madness, melancholy, and despair. I wanted to study triumphs, the rediscoveries of love, all that I know in the world to be decent, radiant, and clear. Then the word "love", the impulse to love, welled up in me somewhere above my middle. Love seemed to flow from me in all directions, abundant as water--love for Cora, love for Flora, love for all my friends and neighbors, love for Penumbra. This tremendous flow of vitality could not be contained within its spelling, and I seemed to seize a laundry marker and write "luve" on the wall. I wrote "luve" on the staircase, "luve" on the pantry, "luve" on the oven, the washing machine, and the coffeepot, and when Cora came down in the morning (I would be nowhere around) everywhere she looked she would read "luve", "luve", "luve." Then I saw a green meadow and a sparkling stream. On the ridge there were thatched-roof cottages and a square church tower, so I knew it must be England. I climbed up from the meadow to the streets of the village, looking for the cottage where Cora and Flora would be waiting for me. There seemed to have been some mistake. No one knew their names. I asked at the post office, but the answer here was the same. Then it occurred to me that they would be at the manor house. How stupid I had been! I left the village and walked up a sloping lawn to a Georgian house, where a butler let me in. The squire was entertaining. There were twenty-five or thirty people in the hall, drinking sherry. I took a glass from a tray and looked through the gathering for Flora and my wife, but they were not there. Then I thanked my host and walked down the broad lawn, back to the meadow and the sparkling brook, where I lay on the grass and fell into a sweet sleep.“

John Cheever foto
John Cheever126
American novelist and short story writer 1912 – 1982






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