Lettera da Lhasa numero 68. The Book of Heaven di Patricia Storace
by Roberto Scaruffi
Storace, P., The Book of Heaven, The New York Review of Books, 54 (12), 19 July 2007,
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/20397
(Storace, 19 July 2007).
Patricia Storace
Ci si può godere un estratto del libro di Patricia Storace nella NYRB.
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/20397
Sesso e potere. Potere e sesso. Non ci s’aspetti alcuna pornografia, né descrizioni intime d’atti sessuali. Morte, trasformazione, metamorfosi. Analiticità psicologica dell’autrice. Esibizione, forse esibizionismo rituale. Il prima che preannuncia il dopo. Il dopo che lo riprende pur sviluppandosi imprevedibile. Ripetizioni del differente, dunque mai uguali. Fantasie su realtà per nulla fantastiche. Fantasie come ripetizioni di metafore. Interesse. Un matrimonio combinato tra sconosciuti, tra la prescelta ed il poligamo di potere che ha bisogno d’una nuova moglie. Un matrimonio combinato in un mondo immaginario quanto reale. Mondo combinato ma corrente. Lei che viene data e si dà per essere come uccisa, per essere negata e negarsi, per sparire pur vivendo. Privati di sé. Privata di sé attraverso la privazione dell’immagine riflessa. Privata di specchi e rispecchi pure occasionali. S’assicura una vita servendo il potere grazie a doti animali al potere servono.
Fini descrizioni psicologiche:
“Above all, iconoclasts were exacting about and seduced by the forms of weapons. Those they commissioned had the kind of extravagant detail and showed the ardent willingness to spend money that iconophiles devoted to images; they specified elaborate metal traceries, intricate gemmed patterns on hilts, and even calligraphy incised on the blades themselves. These ornaments inscribed a web of meaning on the weapons, gave them voices, which are acceptable to iconoclasts as images are not. The ornaments knit hands and weapons together, made them inseparable and, in a sense, helpless in their power, both hand and weapon bound together and absolved by a common pattern. The weapon ornament became a symbol of destiny, as did the self-inflicted wounds of the iconoclasts, tribal markings attributed to the appetite of the Divine for wounds. These weapons, and these wounds, were the jewelry of men.”
“It was at that moment that Souraya understood the depth of his power over her. She understood through the easy, despotic violence of his gesture, the self-multiplication of his "we," the perfect repose of his tone. He was not simply explaining unfamiliar customs to her, he was telling her the life she would live, feelings he expected her to have, her future, as if he were a seer with the power to make his prophecies come true. In the moment when he deprived her of her mirror, she saw clearly. If she were to have any power over herself again, it would only be through exaggerated, even competitive obedience to the laws of her husband's God. Her only power would be in her embrace. She must embrace him—and his God—to survive. It was at that moment that she truly lost her virginity, when she understood, as a girl does not, that the marriage was a matter of life or death. And that God would be in her bed.”
“The deprivation of images she lived with seemed to have enhanced an intuitive capacity of hers to nearly supernatural levels—she had developed an almost infallible gift for predicting action and analyzing character through observing other people physically. Their bodies told her stories, warned her, confirmed rumors. A tension in the neck, a slight compression of the lips, the way arms were crossed, had shown her details of business dealings in a way that even impressed her husband. The anticipated journey would give her more scope to demonstrate these skills and so secure her husband's favor.”
Storace, P., The Book of Heaven, The New York Review of Books, 54 (12), 19 July 2007,
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/20397
by Roberto Scaruffi
Storace, P., The Book of Heaven, The New York Review of Books, 54 (12), 19 July 2007,
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/20397
(Storace, 19 July 2007).
Patricia Storace
Ci si può godere un estratto del libro di Patricia Storace nella NYRB.
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/20397
Sesso e potere. Potere e sesso. Non ci s’aspetti alcuna pornografia, né descrizioni intime d’atti sessuali. Morte, trasformazione, metamorfosi. Analiticità psicologica dell’autrice. Esibizione, forse esibizionismo rituale. Il prima che preannuncia il dopo. Il dopo che lo riprende pur sviluppandosi imprevedibile. Ripetizioni del differente, dunque mai uguali. Fantasie su realtà per nulla fantastiche. Fantasie come ripetizioni di metafore. Interesse. Un matrimonio combinato tra sconosciuti, tra la prescelta ed il poligamo di potere che ha bisogno d’una nuova moglie. Un matrimonio combinato in un mondo immaginario quanto reale. Mondo combinato ma corrente. Lei che viene data e si dà per essere come uccisa, per essere negata e negarsi, per sparire pur vivendo. Privati di sé. Privata di sé attraverso la privazione dell’immagine riflessa. Privata di specchi e rispecchi pure occasionali. S’assicura una vita servendo il potere grazie a doti animali al potere servono.
Fini descrizioni psicologiche:
“Above all, iconoclasts were exacting about and seduced by the forms of weapons. Those they commissioned had the kind of extravagant detail and showed the ardent willingness to spend money that iconophiles devoted to images; they specified elaborate metal traceries, intricate gemmed patterns on hilts, and even calligraphy incised on the blades themselves. These ornaments inscribed a web of meaning on the weapons, gave them voices, which are acceptable to iconoclasts as images are not. The ornaments knit hands and weapons together, made them inseparable and, in a sense, helpless in their power, both hand and weapon bound together and absolved by a common pattern. The weapon ornament became a symbol of destiny, as did the self-inflicted wounds of the iconoclasts, tribal markings attributed to the appetite of the Divine for wounds. These weapons, and these wounds, were the jewelry of men.”
“It was at that moment that Souraya understood the depth of his power over her. She understood through the easy, despotic violence of his gesture, the self-multiplication of his "we," the perfect repose of his tone. He was not simply explaining unfamiliar customs to her, he was telling her the life she would live, feelings he expected her to have, her future, as if he were a seer with the power to make his prophecies come true. In the moment when he deprived her of her mirror, she saw clearly. If she were to have any power over herself again, it would only be through exaggerated, even competitive obedience to the laws of her husband's God. Her only power would be in her embrace. She must embrace him—and his God—to survive. It was at that moment that she truly lost her virginity, when she understood, as a girl does not, that the marriage was a matter of life or death. And that God would be in her bed.”
“The deprivation of images she lived with seemed to have enhanced an intuitive capacity of hers to nearly supernatural levels—she had developed an almost infallible gift for predicting action and analyzing character through observing other people physically. Their bodies told her stories, warned her, confirmed rumors. A tension in the neck, a slight compression of the lips, the way arms were crossed, had shown her details of business dealings in a way that even impressed her husband. The anticipated journey would give her more scope to demonstrate these skills and so secure her husband's favor.”
Storace, P., The Book of Heaven, The New York Review of Books, 54 (12), 19 July 2007,
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/20397
