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The wood engravings that accompany the text stand out and mirror the book's theme of asutere simplicity quite beautifully. Its a wonderful book for children, nature enthusiasts, gardeners and those looking for hope that follwoing one's heart and living out of love, rather than fear, can ultimately make a difference.
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The Horseman on the Roof is the story of Angelo Pardi, a young Italian who is making his way across the French countryside to his home in Italy during the cholera epidemic. Unfortunately, the book lacks a cohesive storyline and Angelo simply meanders from one village to another, encountering first one cholera victim, then another.
While The Horseman on the Roof isn't strong on plot and certainly won't keep you up at night turning pages, it does contain gorgeous descriptions of Provence. Giono's descriptive writing is the equivalent of a full-course gourmet meal and anyone interested in the south of France, especially during this period in history, will find the book fascinating reading.
There really isn't a story here, so perhaps the book doesn't deserve the four stars I gave it, but Giono's prose, however, is so lush and beautiful I couldn't justify giving it any number fewer.
If you love gorgeous prose, France or are interested in the cholera epidemic, by all means, read this book. Others will no doubt find the film more engrossing as I did.
I read the book without breaks, simply because I found it impossible to put down. By the time I had finished it it was 0500 at night and I was exhausted. (What this other reviewer was thinking, who felt it wouldn't deprive you of sleep I can't imagine.) The imagery and the story is harsh and horrible, and yet deeply invigorating and rewarding because while the author is depicting a society coming apart under the pressure of the plague he is also describing how individuals can resist that pressure.
I thought this a work of great subtlety (you'll have to read it many times to catch all of it), fantastic atmosphere, and unusual drive. Rarely have I found a book to be this gripping and at the same time so well-written.
If you get the impression I am struggling to express how good I think it was you've understood.
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The story is well-crafted, though this is partly veiled by the indirectness of its style, perhaps an element of the aloofness and privateness that non-French observers have noted about French culture. The momentous fates of key characters are hinted at within the first 100 pages of the novel, important "clues" that may be overlooked if the reader is the sort who dabbles in this book over a long period of time. I think JOY will give greater satisfaction if read in less than 10 sittings, the easier to hold on to the irregular thread that re-surfaces as two fatal and separating cords at the book's close.
There was a great deal of puzzlement for me in JOY, mainly in the use of that term. Giono seems to locate joy in timeless rural life and its rhythms. Yet these folks on the Gremone plateau, especially Jourdan who wonders about its possibility early on, appear to be such fragile vessels in which it can flourish. And uncomprehending. Consider this exchange between the older Marthe and the younger Zulma:
Marthe: Doesn't [your head] bother you?
Zulma: What?
M: My child, why don't you talk like other people?
I don't know, said Zulma, How do you talk, the rest of you?
M: Oh, my child, we talk as life makes us talk
Z: I never know what you others mean.
M: We mean that life is sad.
Z: I don't understand, Madame
M: Sad, do you know what that is?
Z: No
M: Content, when you are content, do you know what that is?
Z: No (etc., etc.)
And there are other patience-trying (for me) passages throughout the novel.
For all of the rural wisdom that Giono seems to want us to recognize, and which we understand is passing with modernity, it is not enough to take root unless it does so by a distancing self-consciousness. We see this today in the U.S. with various attempts to "get back to the land."
And then there's Bobi, who first appears almost like a Christ-figure: he stands on a crest framing a single nocturnal star between his legs. But halfway through the book he appears less a "revelation" to the community of the plateau. He ends up merely among them in their lives, and near the end, a source of anxious sexuality and vexing alienation from the despondent Aurore.
Joy was until the 20th century linked to spiritual insight, a grappling with the ways of God, but this left our literature as the modernist enterprise gained ascendence (and not transcendence!). The loss of this deep joy is poignantly evident at the book's close: alone in the humid rain, a man cries out for his mother and is answered with finality by a bolt of lightning.
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This novel/study is a love story! Compact, austere, wrenching! What I did not get from Horseman, I got from this book..lyrical, lovely Giono! For example: "We must take care not to grow passionately fond of anything that is not worth the trouble." Angelo continually muses over how his heart has been stolen by a lovely perfume-fragrance which comes to symbolize a life worth living. What lady wears such a fragrance? Will Angelo ever meet her? The answers to these questions lie in both Angelo and The Horseman on the Roof.