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Sto caricando le informazioni... The Nomad: The Diaries of Isabelle Eberhardtdi Isabelle Eberhardt
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Iscriviti per consentire a LibraryThing di scoprire se ti piacerà questo libro. Attualmente non vi sono conversazioni su questo libro. Quelle fascinante femme qu'Isabelle Eberarhardt, qui habillée en homme accompagnait les nomades d'Algérie et partageait leur vie. Mais il lui manquait la qualité de l'écriture, son journal est monotone, sans style mais abonde de pensées et d'expériences incroyables (il est de plus incomplet, des pages ayant disparues dans la crue du Oued qui emporta sa vie). Une femme incroyable! nessuna recensione | aggiungi una recensione
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In her short life Isabelle Eberhardt (1877-1904) came to be known as the ultimate enigma and representative of everything that seemed dangerous in nineteenth-century society. Born the illegitimate daughter of an aristocratic Russian emigree she was a cross-dresser and sensualist, an experienced drug-taker and a transgressor of boundaries: a European reborn in the desert as an Arab and Muslim, a woman who reinvented herself as a man, wandering the Sahara on horseback. A profoundly lonely individual for all her numerous sexual adventures, she roused controversy and was loved and hated in equal measure. A mysterious attempt was made on her life and even her eventual death was ambiguous: she drowned in the desert at the age of twenty-seven. La bonne nomade, Isabelle's diaries, is a fascinating account of her strange and passionate nomadic lifestyle; an evocative and deeply personal record of her torments, her search for inspiration as a writer, her spirituality and the intense color and fire of her living. Non sono state trovate descrizioni di biblioteche |
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Frustratingly, very little of this comes out in the diaries - which are not so much diaries (ie a record of the events of someone's life) as journals (as in 'I have to do some journaling today'). Occasionally there is a snippet of something which actually happened, but the majority of the contents are either descriptions of the countryside, which read like first drafts of the literary career to which Eberhardt aspired, incoherent admonitions to herself to live better, or self-pitying complaints about how no-one really understands her ("needless to say ... mediocre people cannot abide me"). The general effect is very teenage - and strangely modern - I would never have guessed that the inner life of a late-Victorian woman would be so recognisable. Sadly that's the most interesting thing about the book. ( )