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Winner of the 1961 Hugo Award for Best Novel and widely considered one of the most accomplished, powerful, and enduring classics of modern speculative fiction, Walter M. Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz is a true landmark of twentieth-century literature??a chilling and still-provocative look at a postapocalyptic future.
In a nightmarish, ruined world, slowly awakening to the light after sleeping in darkness, the infantile rediscoveries of science are secretly nourished by cloistered monks dedicated to the study and preservation of the relics and writings of the blessed Saint Isaac Leibowitz. From here the story spans centuries of ignorance, violence, and barbarism, viewing through a sharp, satirical eye the relentless progression of a human race damned by its inherent humanness to recelebrate its grand foibles and repeat its grievous mistakes. Seriously funny, stunning, tragic, eternally fresh, imaginative, and altogether remarkable, A Canticle for Leibowitz retains its ability to enthrall and amaze. It is now, as it always has been, a masterpiece.… (altro)
RyderAuthorResources: There are many similarities: both consist of three related novellas that tell one book-spanning story; both deal with the "problem" of peace; both are filled with compassionate insight; and both have made me cry more than once.
In una America futura da dopo-bomba, dove la civiltà residua è regredita a piccoli staterelli pseudo-medioevali, la storia attraverso i secoli di un monastero cattolico custode dei pochi documenti pre-bomba, divenuti preziosissimi testimoni di una civiltà ormai perduta. Questo libro è divenuto famoso negli anni ed ha vinto pure un premio Hugo, in realtà per me è stata una grande delusione: noiosissimo, brutto, inconcludente.
Decine e decine di pag di sproloqui pseudoreligiosi/monastici conditi perlopiù con una nulla per storia; a tratti invece la storia c'è ma si perde subito, o in descrizioni lunghissime ed inutili o in ennesime arringhe cattolicistiche, senza riuscire a divenire mai veramente interessante o avvincente.
Diviso in tre parti, la prima è quasi illeggibile tanto è noiosa ed insulsa; la seconda è un po' meglio ma di poco; la terza è la migliore, quella in cui si tirano un po' le fila della storia ed in cui l'autore cerca anche di definire il significato ultimo del suo pensiero... ma purtroppo il risultato è a dir poco mediocre, sotto tutti gli aspetti.
Inoltre il romanzo risente pesantemente del clima e dei tempi in cui è nato, risultando spesso anacronistico, pessimista e cupo. ( )
Dati dalle informazioni generali inglesi.Modifica per tradurlo nella tua lingua.
a dedication is only a scratch where it itches— for ANNE, then in whose bosom RACHEL lies muselike guiding my clumsy song and giggling between the lines —with blessings, Lass W
Incipit
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Brother Francis Gerard of Utah might never have discovered the blessed documents, had it not been for the pilgrim with girded loins who appeared during that young novice's Lenten fast in the desert.
Citazioni
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There were spaceships again in that century, and the ships were manned by fuzzy impossibilities that walked on two legs and sprouted tufts of hair in unlikely anatomical regions. They were a garrulous kind. They belonged to a race quite capable of admiring its own image in a mirror, and equally capable of cutting its own throat before the alter of some tribal god, such as the deity of Daily Shaving. It was a species which often considered itself to be, basically, a race of divinely inspired tool makers; any intelligent entity from Arcturus would instantly have perceived them to be, basically, a race of impassioned after-dinner speechmakers.
“The closer men came to perfecting for themselves a paradise, the more impatient they seemed to become with it, and with themselves as well. They made a garden of pleasure, and became progressively more miserable with it as it grew into richness and power and beauty; for then, perhaps, it was easier for them to see that something was missing in the garden, some tree or shrub that would not grow. When the world was in darkness and wretchedness, it could believe in perfection and yearn for it. But when the world became bright with reason and riches, it began to sense the narrowness of the needle’s eye, and that rankled for a world no longer willing to believe or yearn. Well, they were going to destroy it again, were they-this garden Earth, civilized and knowing, to be torn apart again that Man might hope again in wretched darkness.” (page 285)
Brother Francis was copying only the body of the text onto new parchment, leaving spaces for the splendid capitals and margins as wide as the text lines. Other craftsmen would fill in riots of colour around his simply inked copy and would construct the pictorial capitals.
Brother Francis found the finest available lambskin and spent several weeks of his spare time at curing it and stretching it and stoning it to a perfect surface, which he eventually bleached to a snowy whiteness.
Ultime parole
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A wind came across the ocean, sweeping with it a pall of fine white ash. The ash fell into the sea and into the breakers. The breakers washed dead shrimp ashore with the driftwood. Then they washed up the whiting. The shark swam out to his deepest waters and brooded in the cold clean currents. He was very hungry that season.
Dati dalle informazioni generali inglesi.Modifica per tradurlo nella tua lingua.
Miller published a short story in 1955 with this title. Please do not combine the novel with the short story.
Redattore editoriale
Elogi
Lingua originale
DDC/MDS Canonico
LCC canonico
▾Riferimenti
Risorse esterne che parlano di questo libro
Wikipedia in inglese
Nessuno
▾Descrizioni del libro
Fiction.
Science Fiction.
HTML:
Winner of the 1961 Hugo Award for Best Novel and widely considered one of the most accomplished, powerful, and enduring classics of modern speculative fiction, Walter M. Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz is a true landmark of twentieth-century literature??a chilling and still-provocative look at a postapocalyptic future.
In a nightmarish, ruined world, slowly awakening to the light after sleeping in darkness, the infantile rediscoveries of science are secretly nourished by cloistered monks dedicated to the study and preservation of the relics and writings of the blessed Saint Isaac Leibowitz. From here the story spans centuries of ignorance, violence, and barbarism, viewing through a sharp, satirical eye the relentless progression of a human race damned by its inherent humanness to recelebrate its grand foibles and repeat its grievous mistakes. Seriously funny, stunning, tragic, eternally fresh, imaginative, and altogether remarkable, A Canticle for Leibowitz retains its ability to enthrall and amaze. It is now, as it always has been, a masterpiece.
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(3.93)
A Canticle for Leibowitz (Book 10) discussion
1
Questo libro è divenuto famoso negli anni ed ha vinto pure un premio Hugo, in realtà per me è stata una grande delusione: noiosissimo, brutto, inconcludente.
Decine e decine di pag di sproloqui pseudoreligiosi/monastici conditi perlopiù con una nulla per storia; a tratti invece la storia c'è ma si perde subito, o in descrizioni lunghissime ed inutili o in ennesime arringhe cattolicistiche, senza riuscire a divenire mai veramente interessante o avvincente.
Diviso in tre parti, la prima è quasi illeggibile tanto è noiosa ed insulsa; la seconda è un po' meglio ma di poco; la terza è la migliore, quella in cui si tirano un po' le fila della storia ed in cui l'autore cerca anche di definire il significato ultimo del suo pensiero... ma purtroppo il risultato è a dir poco mediocre, sotto tutti gli aspetti.
Inoltre il romanzo risente pesantemente del clima e dei tempi in cui è nato, risultando spesso anacronistico, pessimista e cupo. (