Bello… intrigante… entusiasmante.
Ho letto questo libro tutto d’un fiato e l’ho apprezzato immensamente. In realtà me lo sentivo, avevo proprio la sensazione che sarebbe stato un perfetto compagno per me, visto il mio interesse per l’epoca vittoriana. Sapere che la Waters fa accurate ricerche prima di scrivere, sapere inoltre che legge anche la letteratura dell’epoca per immergersi nello stile giusto mi aveva fatto ben sperare. Infatti, non sono rimasta delusa.
Nel momento in cui Margaret ha varcato le soglie di Millbank sono rimasta catturata dal fascino oscuro di quella prigione e delle sue detenute. La prigione è descritta minuziosamente e realisticamente e mentre leggevo sentivo un ‘cassetto’ aprirsi nella mia mente, da cui usciva la parola “Panopticon”, di cui avevo sentito parlare ai tempi dell’università. Tanto per togliermi il dubbio sono andata a verificare ed effettivamente ho scoperto che Millbank era stata disegnata proprio secondo i principi del Panopticon di Bentham: si tratta di una struttura di base circolare che permette ai guardiani di avere sott’occhio tutti i prigionieri contemporaneamente… una sorta di ‘Prigione-Grande-Fratello’.
Le vicende della protagonista sono molto interessanti da più punti di vista. Il principale ha a che fare con il titolo del romanzo e riguarda l’affinità tra lei e la prigioniera Selina a cui si allude nella seconda metà del libro, quando Selina dichiara: “Siamo uguali, voi e io. Siamo due metà tagliate dallo stesso pezzo di materia risplendente… Siete come me”. Ma l’affinità è più che spirituale e arriva ad abbracciare l’essenza stessa dei personaggi: la reclusione è una sorta di spada di Damocle che pende sulla testa della protagonista fino alla fine. In più di un’occasione si percepisce la paura di Margaret che una guardiana la rinchiuda con l’inganno e il lettore percepisce che questa sensazione è collegata a qualcosa che le è accaduto in passato. Finchè si viene a scoprire che, dopo la morte del padre, aveva tentato il suicidio.
In realtà, la reclusione è ancora uno spettro che la perseguita (sebbene l’essere una signora l’abbia salvata dalla prigione). Si tratta solo di un diverso tipo di reclusione: il pericolo reale e tangibile (per tutto il romanzo) è quello dell’internamento per pazzia. Nell’epoca vittoriana i comportamenti al di fuori della norma non erano tollerati, soprattutto per quanto riguardava le donne, che erano tenute a comportarsi come la società si aspettava da loro. Ogni devianza veniva punita severamente e spesso venivano accusate di pazzia e, perfino, internate. In questo senso Margaret subisce dalla madre ripetute allusioni alla sua ‘malattia’, poiché in quanto tale veniva considerata. Il tentativo di suicidio è stato chiaramente interpretato dalla famiglia come un sintomo della malattia e la cura è il cloralio da bere prima di coricarsi, per tenere calmo lo spirito. La struttura di internamento per eccellenza a Londra era Bedlam (Bethlehem Hospital), che non differiva molto dalle carceri di Millbank. Anche a Bedlam si poteva entrare a visitare le internate (pagando qualche penny), le quali erano detenute in condizioni molto simili a quelle del carcere.
Il limite tra la realtà e la follia è una costante preoccupazione di Margaret (e dei suoi familiari), che cerca disperatamente di razionalizzare gli eventi che le capitano, almeno finchè la sua ossessione non ha il sopravvento. Le manifestazioni di questa ossessione rientrano in quella che all’epoca veniva definita ‘erotomania’, ovvero pazzia amorosa, che spesso era scatenata dall’abbandono della persona amata (e qui il ruolo di Helen è importantissimo). L’erotomania spesso conduceva al suicidio… ed anche questa si rivela una minaccia reale, soprattutto nelle ultime pagine. I prototipi letterari di questa follia erano l’Ofelia shakespeariana, le eroine di Wordsworth, la Crazy Kate di Cowper, che avevano in comune l’erranza ed il suicidio. Nel caso di Margaret ci sono richiami alla figura di Ofelia nella disperazione dopo la morte del padre e nel suicidio in acqua… almeno così lo interpreto io.
Eppure, paradossalmente, nella triste fine di Margaret ha un ruolo importante la madre. Non è casuale l’insistenza con cui, nel corso del romanzo, si rileva che viene costretta a bere cloralio prima di coricarsi. Un’abitudine tutta vittoriana, quella di lenire certi disturbi con sostanze come laudano e cloralio. Ma gli effetti di queste sostanze erano tutt’altro che benefici: oltre ad essere sedativo, il cloralio è un ipnotico, ovvero rende una persona suggestionabile e ne aumenta le capacità immaginative. Il vortice di sensazioni che travolgono Margaret di fronte ad eventi apparentemente soprannaturali, la colgono in realtà psicologicamente debole ed esposta alle suggestioni. Una volta entrata nel vortice, non riesce più a tornare indietro. Anzi, passa dal cloralio al laudano (un derivato dell’oppio) proprio all’esplodere dell’ossessione amorosa. Da qui non vi è più ritorno…
Un’altra tematica che pervade tutto il romanzo è lo spiritualismo che, all’epoca, era quasi una moda, assieme al fenomeno delle apparizioni spiritiche. Circolavano anche fotografie di false apparizioni, che sfruttavano il sistema della doppia esposizione.
LA BIBLIOTECA DI MARGARET
Ho apprezzato molto lo stile della Waters in questo libro: uno studiato incrocio tra Dickens e i pionieri della ghost story (Le Fanu, Collins…). La percezione dei fantasmi nel carcere è da ghost story, assieme ai rumori e alle urla delle detenute; la misteriosa sparizione del medaglione richiama un episodio similare in The Moonstone di Wilkie Collins; mentre le descrizioni, soprattutto quelle della vita carceraria, hanno tutto il sapore di Dickens. Gli stessi richiami compaiono nel romanzo: viene citato Lo zio Silas di Le Fanu per rafforzare il tema della pazzia; il libro di Mayhew sulle prigioni di Londra (che probabilmente l’autrice ha usato per documentarsi sull’ambientazione); Margaret legge La piccola Dorrit di Dickens alla madre (N.B.: è ambientato in un carcere).
L’immaginario di Sarah Waters attinge molto anche dalla pittura: per quanto riguarda l’ambientazione, lei stessa cita nel romanzo la serie di stampe di Piranesi sulle carceri che, se scorse in sequenza, prima della lettura aiutano ad entrare nell’atmosfera di Millbank.
Per quanto riguarda invece il personaggio di Selina, c’è un continuo richiamo ad un quadro di Carlo Crivelli (1430/35-1495) che l’autrice chiama Veritas ma di cui non ho trovato traccia. Ci sono anche dei forum online in cui i partecipanti si chiedono se questo quadro esista davvero e la risposta è sempre no. Secondo me il quadro che ha ispirato il personaggio di Selina potrebbe essere un dettaglio del Polittico di Sant’Emidio (1472-73) che si trova ad Ascoli Piceno. Si tratta della figura di Santa Caterina d’Alessandria nel registro superiore. Il titolo Veritas potrebbe essere stato scelto dalla Waters stessa per utilizzarlo come filo conduttore nel romanzo: infatti torna a più riprese e si sposa con il tema della verità in contrasto con l’apperenza, che è un po’ tutto il perno della storia. Resta il fatto che la fanciulla dipinta ha parecchie somiglianze fisiche con la Selina descritta nel romanzo, in particolare con la prima visione che Margaret ha di Selina, chiusa nella cella con un fiore in mano. In alternativa, potrebbe essere la Madonna dell’Annunciazione con Sant’Emidio (sempre del Crivelli), la cui posa rispecchia forse meglio il momento in questione.
Ed ora veniamo al film (Tim Fywell, Affinity - UK, Romania, Canada, 2008): premetto che mi è piaciuto, ma che sono sempre un po’ delusa dai film tratti dai libri. Mi sembra sempre che manchi qualcosa… sia che abbia letto prima il libro e poi visto il film, sia che accada il contrario. Eppure sono una cinefila incallita!
La cosa che mi ha delusa di più è stata il trattamento del tema lesbico. Mentre nel romanzo cova sotto la cenere per erompere prepotentemente solo verso la fine, nel film è esplicitato subito mostrando il tipo di relazione che esisteva tra Margaret ed Helen prima che quest’ultima ne sposasse il fratello. Questo sposta molto il punto di vista e l’interpretazione della relazione tra Margaret e Selina fin da subito. Nel libro il lettore deve fare un certo sforzo per percepire la tensione sessuale tra le due donne e ribaltare spesso le sue interpretazioni dei personaggi. A parte questa non piccola pecca, il film mi è piaciuto molto. Non passa certo inosservata Amanda Plummer che veste i panni della guardia … con il suo cockney strettissimo.
Questo è il promo:
SARAH WATERS’S AFFINITY
Beautiful… intriguing… thrilling.
I’ve read this book all in one breath and I really liked it a lot. I had a feeling it would be perfect for me, given my interest in the Victorian Age. I knew that Sarah Waters does a thorough research before writing a book and reads literature of the time to get the right style and atmosphere. In fact, I wasn’t disappointed at all.
As soon as Margaret crossed the threshold of Millbank I was captured by the dark fascination of that prison and its inmates. The prison is described in detail and is very realistic. While I was reading, I felt something unlock in my mind and the word ‘panopticon’ emerged… I had heard it when I was at university. I checked out and I found that Millbank was indeed designed according to the principles of Bentham’s Panopticon: it’s a structure with a round base that allows the guardians to see at a glance all the prisoners at the same time… some sort of ‘Big-Brother-Prison’.
The story of the protagonist is very interesting from many points of view. Firstly, the title of the book refers to the affinity between her and the prisoner Selina, a relationship alluded to in the second half of the book, when Selina says: “We had been cut, two halves together, from a single piece of shining matter”. But the affinity is more than spiritual and comes to include the true essence of the characters: imprisonment hangs like a sword of Damocles on the protagonist’s head from the beginning to the end of the book. On more than one occasion you can perceive Margaret’s fear that a guardian locks her up under false pretences and the reader understands that this feeling is linked to something she experienced in the past. Confinement is a ghost that haunts her (even though being a lady saved her from prison). It’s a different kind of imprisonment she fears -all the book long- and namely the internment for madness.
In the Victorian Age behaviours outside the norm were not tolerated, in particular in women, who had to behave as they were expected. Any deviation from the norm was severely punished. Women were often accused of madness and so interned. In fact Margaret’s mother often talks about her daughter’s ‘sickness’. Margaret’s suicide attempt is clearly interpreted by her family as a symptom of sickness and the cure is chloral, which she drinks before sleeping.
The asylum par excellence in London was Bedlam (Bethlehem Hospital), which was not much different from Millbank. In Bedlam you could visit the inmates (paying some pennies), who were treated like convicts.
The border between reality and madness constantly worries Margaret (and her family), who desperately tries to rationalize the events… at least until her obsession gains the upper hand. The symptoms of her obsession were referred to ‘erotomania’, that is madness for love, which was usually caused by the lover’s neglect (and in this case the role of Helen is very important). Erotomania often led to suicide… and the menace is real, in particular in the last pages. The literary prototypes of this madness were the shakespearian Ophelia, Wordsworth’s heroines, Cowper’s Crazy Kate: they all had the errant and suicide in common. In Margaret’s case there are references to Ophelia in her despair for her father’s death and the suicide in water… that’s how I see it.
And yet, paradoxically, Margaret’s mother has an important role in her death. Throughout the novel the fact that she is forced to drink chloral before sleeping is insistently repeated. It was quite common in the Victorian Age to soothe some disorders with substances like laudanum and chloral. But the effects of those substances were far from beneficial: besides being sedative, chloral is also hypnotic, that is it makes people suggestible and increases the powers of imagination.
The whirl of feelings that overwhelm Margaret when the events seem supernatural, finds her psychologically vulnerable and open to suggestions. Once in the whirlpool she can’t go back. In fact she passes from chloral to laudanum when her love obsession explodes.
Another theme pervading the novel is spiritualism that, at the time, was in vogue together with the phenomenon of apparitions.
I really like Ms Waters’s style in this book: it’s a well conceived mixture of Dickens and the pioneers of the ghost story (Le Fanu, Collins…). The sensing of ghosts in the prison is typical of the ghost story, together with the noises and cries of the inmates; the mysterious disappearance of the medallion reminds of a similar episode in The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins; the descriptions, above all those of prison life, remind Dickens.
There are also direct references in the book: Le Fanu’s Uncle Silas is mentioned to enhance the theme of madness; Mayhew’s book on London prisons (which the author probably used to study for the setting of her book) is also quoted; Margaret reads Little Dorrit by Dickens to her mother (which is set in a prison).
Sarah Waters’s imagery draws from painting as well: Piranesi’s prints on prisons are clearly well-known to the author and if you look at them before reading the book, you’ll get a clear idea of the setting of Millbank.
As Selina is concerned, there’s a constant appeal to Carlo Crivelli (1430/35-1495). There's a painting which the author calls Veritas… even if I couldn’t find traces of it anywhere. There are some forums on the Internet where people wonder if this painting exists and the answer is no. I think that the painting that could really have inspired the character of Selina could be a detail in the Polittico di Sant’Emidio (1472-73) in Ascoli Piceno. It’s the figure of St. Catherine of Alexandria in the upper part of the painting. The title Veritas could be Ms Waters’s choice in order to use it as a leitmotif in the novel: in fact it is often mentioned and is linked to the theme of truth in contrast to appearance, which is the focal point of the story. The girl in the painting has physical similarities with Selina as described inthe novel, in particular with the first time Margaret sees her, closed in her cell with a flower in her hand. Alternatively, it could be the Madonna in Crivelli’s Annunciation of Sant’Emidio, whose pose better reflects that moment. (see pictures above)
But now...let’s come to the film (Tim Fywell, Affinity - UK, Romania, Canada, 2008): Let me first say that I liked it, although I’m always a little bit disappointed by films taken from books. I usually have the feeling that something is missing… both when I read the book first and when I watch the film first.
In this film one thing in particular disappointed me a little bit: the treatment of lesbianism. Whereas in the novel it is smouldering all along and erupts only towards the end, in the film it is made clear from the beginning with the revelation of the relationship between Margaret and Helen before the latter married Margaret’s brother. This choice shifts the point of view on the relationship between Margaret and Selina, which in the book is quite difficult to notice. Besides this, I liked the film very much. Amanda Plummer in the role of a guardian does not go unnoticed.
Beautiful… intriguing… thrilling.
I’ve read this book all in one breath and I really liked it a lot. I had a feeling it would be perfect for me, given my interest in the Victorian Age. I knew that Sarah Waters does a thorough research before writing a book and reads literature of the time to get the right style and atmosphere. In fact, I wasn’t disappointed at all.
As soon as Margaret crossed the threshold of Millbank I was captured by the dark fascination of that prison and its inmates. The prison is described in detail and is very realistic. While I was reading, I felt something unlock in my mind and the word ‘panopticon’ emerged… I had heard it when I was at university. I checked out and I found that Millbank was indeed designed according to the principles of Bentham’s Panopticon: it’s a structure with a round base that allows the guardians to see at a glance all the prisoners at the same time… some sort of ‘Big-Brother-Prison’.
The story of the protagonist is very interesting from many points of view. Firstly, the title of the book refers to the affinity between her and the prisoner Selina, a relationship alluded to in the second half of the book, when Selina says: “We had been cut, two halves together, from a single piece of shining matter”. But the affinity is more than spiritual and comes to include the true essence of the characters: imprisonment hangs like a sword of Damocles on the protagonist’s head from the beginning to the end of the book. On more than one occasion you can perceive Margaret’s fear that a guardian locks her up under false pretences and the reader understands that this feeling is linked to something she experienced in the past. Confinement is a ghost that haunts her (even though being a lady saved her from prison). It’s a different kind of imprisonment she fears -all the book long- and namely the internment for madness.
In the Victorian Age behaviours outside the norm were not tolerated, in particular in women, who had to behave as they were expected. Any deviation from the norm was severely punished. Women were often accused of madness and so interned. In fact Margaret’s mother often talks about her daughter’s ‘sickness’. Margaret’s suicide attempt is clearly interpreted by her family as a symptom of sickness and the cure is chloral, which she drinks before sleeping.
The asylum par excellence in London was Bedlam (Bethlehem Hospital), which was not much different from Millbank. In Bedlam you could visit the inmates (paying some pennies), who were treated like convicts.
The border between reality and madness constantly worries Margaret (and her family), who desperately tries to rationalize the events… at least until her obsession gains the upper hand. The symptoms of her obsession were referred to ‘erotomania’, that is madness for love, which was usually caused by the lover’s neglect (and in this case the role of Helen is very important). Erotomania often led to suicide… and the menace is real, in particular in the last pages. The literary prototypes of this madness were the shakespearian Ophelia, Wordsworth’s heroines, Cowper’s Crazy Kate: they all had the errant and suicide in common. In Margaret’s case there are references to Ophelia in her despair for her father’s death and the suicide in water… that’s how I see it.
And yet, paradoxically, Margaret’s mother has an important role in her death. Throughout the novel the fact that she is forced to drink chloral before sleeping is insistently repeated. It was quite common in the Victorian Age to soothe some disorders with substances like laudanum and chloral. But the effects of those substances were far from beneficial: besides being sedative, chloral is also hypnotic, that is it makes people suggestible and increases the powers of imagination.
The whirl of feelings that overwhelm Margaret when the events seem supernatural, finds her psychologically vulnerable and open to suggestions. Once in the whirlpool she can’t go back. In fact she passes from chloral to laudanum when her love obsession explodes.
Another theme pervading the novel is spiritualism that, at the time, was in vogue together with the phenomenon of apparitions.
I really like Ms Waters’s style in this book: it’s a well conceived mixture of Dickens and the pioneers of the ghost story (Le Fanu, Collins…). The sensing of ghosts in the prison is typical of the ghost story, together with the noises and cries of the inmates; the mysterious disappearance of the medallion reminds of a similar episode in The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins; the descriptions, above all those of prison life, remind Dickens.
There are also direct references in the book: Le Fanu’s Uncle Silas is mentioned to enhance the theme of madness; Mayhew’s book on London prisons (which the author probably used to study for the setting of her book) is also quoted; Margaret reads Little Dorrit by Dickens to her mother (which is set in a prison).
Sarah Waters’s imagery draws from painting as well: Piranesi’s prints on prisons are clearly well-known to the author and if you look at them before reading the book, you’ll get a clear idea of the setting of Millbank.
As Selina is concerned, there’s a constant appeal to Carlo Crivelli (1430/35-1495). There's a painting which the author calls Veritas… even if I couldn’t find traces of it anywhere. There are some forums on the Internet where people wonder if this painting exists and the answer is no. I think that the painting that could really have inspired the character of Selina could be a detail in the Polittico di Sant’Emidio (1472-73) in Ascoli Piceno. It’s the figure of St. Catherine of Alexandria in the upper part of the painting. The title Veritas could be Ms Waters’s choice in order to use it as a leitmotif in the novel: in fact it is often mentioned and is linked to the theme of truth in contrast to appearance, which is the focal point of the story. The girl in the painting has physical similarities with Selina as described inthe novel, in particular with the first time Margaret sees her, closed in her cell with a flower in her hand. Alternatively, it could be the Madonna in Crivelli’s Annunciation of Sant’Emidio, whose pose better reflects that moment. (see pictures above)
But now...let’s come to the film (Tim Fywell, Affinity - UK, Romania, Canada, 2008): Let me first say that I liked it, although I’m always a little bit disappointed by films taken from books. I usually have the feeling that something is missing… both when I read the book first and when I watch the film first.
In this film one thing in particular disappointed me a little bit: the treatment of lesbianism. Whereas in the novel it is smouldering all along and erupts only towards the end, in the film it is made clear from the beginning with the revelation of the relationship between Margaret and Helen before the latter married Margaret’s brother. This choice shifts the point of view on the relationship between Margaret and Selina, which in the book is quite difficult to notice. Besides this, I liked the film very much. Amanda Plummer in the role of a guardian does not go unnoticed.
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