The Pulitzer Prize-nominated novel from the author of the New York Times bestselling novel We Were the Mulvaneys
Joyce Carol Oates has taken a shocking story that has become an American myth and, from it, has created a novel of electrifying power and illumination. Kelly Kelleher is an idealistic, twenty-six-year-old “good girl” when she meets the Senator at a Fourth of July party. In a brilliantly woven narrative, we enter her past and her present, her mind and her body as she is fatally attracted to this older man, this hero, this soon-to-be-lover. Kelly becomes the very embodiment of the vulnerable, romantic dreams of bright and brave women, drawn to the power that certain men command—at a party that takes on the quality of a surreal nightmare; in a tragic car ride that we hope against hope will not end as we know it must end. One of the acknowledged masters of American fiction, Joyce Carol Oates has written a bold tour de force that parts the black water to reveal the profoundest depths of human truth.
Joyce Carol Oates is an American writer. Oates published her first book in 1963, and has since published 58 novels, a number of plays and novellas, and many volumes of short stories, poetry, and nonfiction. Her novels Black Water (1992), What I Lived For (1994), and Blonde (2000), and her short story collections The Wheel of Love (1970) and Lovely, Dark, Deep: Stories (2014) were each finalists for the Pulitzer Prize. She has won many awards for her writing, including the National Book Award, for her novel Them (1969), two O. Henry Awards, the National Humanities Medal, and the Jerusalem Prize (2019). Oates taught at Princeton University from 1978 to 2014, and is the Roger S. Berlind '52 Professor Emerita in the Humanities with the Program in Creative Writing. From 2016 to 2020, she was a visiting professor at the University of California, Berkeley, where she taught short fiction in the spring semesters. She now teaches at Rutgers University, New Brunswick. Oates was elected to the American Philosophical Society in 2016. Pseudonyms: Rosamond Smith and Lauren Kelly.
Impressive, poignant. At the top of her game, THIS is quintessential Joyce Carol Oates!
The entire novel is about one single awful AWFUL moment, where everything that splinters from it & before it takes place. It's as short as her "Blonde" is long: both hit you viscerally hard. Crystallizing that dreadful moment impeccably.
I only set myself a few reading goals this year and one is to read the books I actually own. This is the second of those. I've read this author off and on, she is so prolific I will probably never read all of her works. This was a quick read, a thinly veiled take on the Kennedy, Kopeckni tragedy. It was just okay for me, a stream of consciousness style with much repetition. Still I love how this writer always tackles new things, her books are never the same, at least those I have read.
The firs time I heard about the so-called Chappaquiddick incident was in college. It was right after Ted Kennedy died, and we were talking about it in one of my classes, and we got around to the various Kennedy scandals, and then my professor remarked, "you know, everyone on the news keeps talking about all the good things that Ted Kennedy did during his life - no one's mentioned how he was responsible for a woman's death."
Here are the facts: on the night of July 18th 1969, Ted Kennedy left a party held on Chappaquiddick, an island near Martha's Vineyard. In the car with him was Mary Jo Kopechne, a young woman who had worked on Robert Kennedy's campaign. On their way to the ferry, Ted Kennedy accidentally drove the car off the road and into Poucha Pond. The car landed upside down underwater, and although Kennedy was able to escape the car, Kopechne was not. Kennedy claimed he tried to swim to the car several times to help her, but was unable to reach her. After that, he walked away from the accident site, and the car was discovered the next morning by fishermen who then called the police.
Here are the creepy facts and suspicious circumstances: After trying unsuccessfully to reach the car, Ted Kennedy went back to the party, got several of his friends, and they returned to the site and tried to reach the car. When this didn't work, Kennedy took the ferry to his hotel and went to sleep. At no point during these events did he ever contact the police to tell them what had happened. When Kopechne's body was finally retrieved from the car, she was found in the backseat, hanging onto the seat with her face tilted upwards - suggesting that there was a pocket of air inside the car after the crash. According to John Farrar, the diver who retrieved her body: "It looked as if she were holding herself up to get a last breath of air. It was a consciously assumed position. ... She didn't drown. She died of suffocation in her own air void. It took her at least three or four hours to die."
I had no idea that this happened, much less that this woman was trapped in a car underwater for at least two hours.. "Nightmare" doesn't begin to describe it.
You can see how it would make a good subject for a novella: what was going through this woman's head as she was trapped in the car, dying slowly, hoping to be rescued? And what better person to tackle this sensitive and terrifying subject than Joyce "Men Are Bad and Will Hurt You" Carol Oates?
If you've read Blonde, you have a good idea of how this story is going to go. Oates goes for the obvious and most sinister explanations possible: of course her Kopechne stand-in, Kelly, is a wide-eye and naive idealist with a hefty dose of daddy issues and little romantic experience. Of course her sex life gets described like this:
"She'd cried out, short high-pitched gasping cries, she'd sobbed, she'd heard her voice distant, wild, pleading reverberating out of the corners of the darkened room, Oh I love you, I love you, I love love love you, their bodies slapping and sucking hot-clammy with sweat, hair plastered to their heads with sweat, you know you're somebody's little girl don't you? don't you?"
and this:
"...since girlhood, kissing and being kissed, Kelly Kelleher had always felt, not her own, but the other's, the male's, desire. Quick and galvanizing as an electric shock. Feeling too, once she caught her breath, that familiar wave of anxiety, guilt - I've made you want me, now I can't refuse you."
Joyce Carol Oates, you are exhausting.
And of course Ted Kennedy (aka "the Senator") is an aging, predatory creep who takes full advantage of Kelly's daddy issues. Of course he's not only drunk when he drives Kelly to the ferry, but is actually drinking a cocktail as he crashed the car. And of course he not only leaves Kelly behind in the car, but actually kicks her away in his haste to escape.
Oates has this gift for inspiring outrage on behalf of the supposed villain of her historical retellings. In my review of Blonde I was furious at her one-sided portrayal of Tony Curtis, who was by all accounts a total douchebag, but something about Oates's version of him seemed so deliberately evil, so patently unfair. Black Water was like that. Could we have a little ambiguity, please? Some sliver of goodness in the Senator, something about Kelly to suggest that she's more than just some wide-eyed innocent trapped in the older man's web? No, we can't - the Senator is a bad, bad man and Kelly was a good, good girl and that is that, thank you.
In fact, as I read, I started to be more interested in the Senator's side of the story. There are so many more questions there: when he tried to swim down to the car, did he think Kelly was alive? How, when he was walking back to the party, did he not see any lights from nearby houses and try to call for help there? Why did he call his friend first and not the police? Why didn't he call the police at all? What was going through his mind after he had escaped the car?
I wanted to read that story, I realized. Kelly's story was terrifying and sad, of course, but the Senator's was where the real mystery was. All Kelly did was drown (WELL that's the most horrible sentence I've ever typed in my life). Alternating viewpoints - going back and forth between Kelly and the Senator before, during, and after the accident - would have been much more interesting, and would have meant a fuller experience (and a longer book)
Ultimately, this story succeeded because it made me really want to read more about the actual Chappaquiddick incident, but not because I appreciated Oates's take on the event. By now, I've learned that when it comes to retelling historical events, she can be extremely one-sided and sensationalist.
Compelling and desperately sad, I read this in one sitting, and am now left feeling suffocated and horrified. It's an oppressive and repetitive book, which I think will stay with me for a long while.
Cautious interwinement of different time modes and perspectives held a lot of promise. Parts of the plot were carefully strung into a captivating, fight-for-breath whole. Along with the lack of misplaced words and clutter, it was what made the flow neat and tidy, but also what opened the possibility of its pitfall. By definition, stringing pieces in a sequence involves staying within the narrow line and connecting similar components. The same happened to the story - the auspicious start did not progress and evolve, but only invoked a complementary platitude.
The purpose of books based on true stories, is to give us a possible narrative behind the bare facts. Instead of plausible interpretation and deeper understanding this one delivers only more cliches and pompousness. It felt as if the author had mistaken an image of an all American gal, with unresolved daddy issues and girl-power ambitions, for a person. The protagonist and her relations had no uniqueness that would make them convincing, but remained the manufactured products waving from the billboard, that one sometimes wants to get to know, but never can. Yellow pages of an artsy journal would have as much effect. Life can be but a series of coincidences and its end a peak of absurdity, but at least it has some moments of significance, which is a fact this book desperately tries to avoid.
Oates inexplicably squanders her gifts in this dreamlike, stream-of-conscious exploration of a young woman’s state of mind, her attraction to a powerful older man, and her eventual doom. The writing is poetic, evocative, and certainly challenging – which is to be expected from a novelist of Oates’ caliber. Unfortunately, despite the attempt to give the characters an almost mythic stature, the ideas on display are rather pedestrian – and are certainly not helped by the very basic, near-formulaic rendering of a Naïve Idealistic Young Woman and All-Too-Fallible Father Figure.
Non so se partire dall’auto colata a picco dopo una curva e dipanare la vicenda dei due occupanti a ritroso sia stata la tecnica giusta. Sono venuti a mancare ritmo e pathos sostituiti da una serie di avvolgimenti. Se l’incidente è già avvenuto non rimane che parlare di ciò che è successo prima di esso. J.C. Oates ha tentato per tutta la narrazione di comporre correttamente una matassa. Ha preso un cavo (ho in mente quello elettrico diametro 1,5) ce ne ha mostrate le estremità e poi ha iniziato ad avvolgerlo. Durante l’operazione si è accorta che la matassa non era abbastanza stretta, allora ha dato l’impressione di ripartire da capo, ha fatto ciò più volte finché il libro non è finito come era cominciato, con il capocorda fra il pollice e l’indice dell’autrice. Kelly Kelleher è una giovane laureata che ad una festa privata viene sedotta da un senatore democratico in odor di futura nomination per le presidenziali USA. Del senatore non viene mai fatto il nome, è grazie alla quarta di copertina che ho scoperto quanto segue:
La Oates è una delle autrici più prolifiche della storia. Inserisco questo libro nella colonna PERDIBILI della sua bibliografia, mettendo un post-it colorato per la citazione di Charles de Gaulle: Poiché un uomo politico non crede mai a ciò che dice, è sorpreso quando gli altri gli credono.
Haunting rendition of a young woman's last terrifying moments. Oates comes at those moments from a variety of angles, and somehow it's enough to create an entire novella out of it in a way that seems natural.
Black Water is a bit like water (how apropos) circling around a drain, getting faster and faster as it nears the inevitable end.
Although the Chappaquiddick incident was before my time, Kennedy hagiography wasn't. Still isn't. That myth of Camelot stuff. I hate it. If I'd moved up to Massachusetts any earlier than I did, Ted Kennedy would have been my senator. Although I am a Democrat and agreed with a lot of the work he did, I don't know that I could have voted for him. I reflexively vote against all Kennedys, always. Because of stuff like Chappaquiddick and its aftermath.
It's a case where there was probably never going to be justice and where I don't know what justice might have looked like. The closest we're probably going to get is this book, which is fiction, and which echoes the central events. But only echoes - it's set in a different time, with different people.
I have mixed feelings about Joyce Carol Oates. I like the stories she chooses to tell, and I like her dreamlike attacks on and explorations of the ways we socialize or suppress female sexuality. At the same time, I find her prose prosaic (more so when she's trying for poetry) and think that her universal archetypes (if we can call them that) flatten and limit my experience of my own humanity. That's not me in there.
Do I like the recasting of the Chappaquiddick story as an allegory for the power imbalances between older men in power and younger women out of power, the ways in which the women are doomed sacrifices? Do I feel more powerless after reading the book, as though Oates is complicit in taking away the agency of a woman who in real life was clearly motivated? I don't know. I do think the book is worth reading and talking about.
One thing I can say is it made me more aware of the way we tell crime stories and scandal stories through the eyes of the aggressor. Yes, the victim isn't there to tell their side, but the perp usually isn't telling either. I've thought before about whether we're re-victimizing the victims by treating them as objects (sometimes of veneration, sometimes not) to protect ourselves from existential angst (who wants to self-identify as dead?) but this book brought home the emotional truth of it - along with the possibility that as they're fighting for life, some of them are already starting to absorb a sense of themselves as inherently passive (yet still culpable).
L’episodio che ha ispirato il breve romanzo della Oates è quello del vergognoso incidente di Chappaquiddick avvenuto nel 1969, che segnò la fine della carriera politica del senatore Ted Kennedy. E’ il 4 luglio, siamo agli inizi del 1990, nel Maine, a Grayling Island. Una Toyota nera, guidata dal Senatore, un uomo di mezza età, donnaiolo e bevitore, che guida con in mano il drink per il viaggio, trasporta lui e la sua nuova amica Kelly, conosciuta ad una festa lo stesso giorno in casa di conoscenze comuni, verso un traghetto diretto sulla terraferma, ad una stanza d’albergo. La velocità eccessiva, la strada sterrata, il buio della notte, la guida spericolata, tutto insomma concorre al verificarsi dell’incidente: l’auto esce di strada e precipita nell’acqua nera del fiume Indian Creek. Da questo momento prende il via l’angoscioso e angosciante flusso di pensieri di Kelly, frammentato in una continua serie di ricordi, di impressioni, di flashback in cui, sul punto di morte, l’intera sua esistenza di brava ragazza americana le scorre nella mente, come tanti tasselli di un puzzle. Anche la scrittura della Oates si adegua alla situazione ed è frammentaria, con lunghi periodi senza punteggiatura che si alternano con altri spesso oscuri, che uniscono episodi diversi della vita della ragazza, dall’infanzia al momento attuale, in un mescolamento che esprime in pieno la confusione e la concitazione dei pensieri di chi sta morendo. Una giovane americana di ottima famiglia, figlia di un avvocato di Boston, educata secondo severi principi puritani, conosce un uomo di potere, uno dei suoi “miti”, sul quale all’università scrisse anche una tesina, un “animale politico” avvezzo ad ogni genere di intrighi e di tresche, e in un pomeriggio decide di andarsene con lui dalla festa e di passarci almeno la notte. Il senso di colpa, derivazione della sua rigida educazione, la divora: “ho fatto in modo che tu mi desiderassi e ora non posso dirti di no”. All’analisi del rapporto tra gli uomini di potere e le giovani donne che incontrano sul loro cammino (argomento attualmente all’ordine del giorno in Italia, seppur nel suo aspetto più turpe e indegno–perché non è un romanzo ma è purtroppo la realtà quella che viviamo-), si affiancano temi di critica sociale e politica, quali la critica alla pena di morte, “un omicidio premeditato inflitto arbitrariamente dallo stato”, e la critica alla politica del presidente Bush senior che ha portato alla guerra del golfo. In complesso la lettura mi ha coinvolto, anche se all’inizio ho avuto difficoltà ad abituarmi alla particolarità della scrittura; poi sono stata anch’io trascinata nell’acqua nera accanto a Kelly.
"Kelly Kelleher, que no estaba borracha, sonrió pensando, Qué extraño resulta estar aquí y sin embargo no saber dónde está ese aquí."
Siempre que me asomo a una historia de Joyce Carol Oates me acabo preguntando lo mismo ¿cómo es posible que sea capaz de visibilizar temas tan candentes sin que en un principio lo parezcan?? También y siempre me acabo preguntando qué formatos de sus novelas prefiero, si los tochos en los que se enrolla de lo lindo en bucles de flujos de conciencia infinitos diseccionando a la familia, o prefiero estos relatos largos o novellas? No sabría contestar pero es cierto que en estos relatos largos de poco más de cien páginas también consigue tocar todos sus temas, no se enrolla tanto, pero y si ponemos como ejemplo Agua Negra, vuelvo a sorprenderme maravillada por todos esos palos que toca tan acertadamente y todos tienen cabida: los conflictos raciales, la corrupción del poder, como aquí, esa figura femenina casi siempre joven, fascinada por la figura del hombre algo mayor y con poder en este caso simbolizado en el personaje del senador, que acaba representando el privilegio político y patriarcal. En Aguas Negras se aleja un tanto de lo que es la familia disfuncional y se centra sobre todo en el papel de la mujer a través de la cosificación de su cuerpo, la política y la sexualidad. La protagonista de esta novela, Kelly, es una joven que tiene ideales políticos, cree en el amor y en su ingenuidad cree en el poder transformador de un hombre carismático, sobre todo si es mayor y además un senador, así que ya tenemos los tres o cuatro elementos para que JCO pueda construir una de sus historias que acaban siendo auténticas bombas de relojería a la hora de levantar el velo de los tabúes de la sociedad americana.
“- Eso que usted llama mi generación no existe, Senador. Estamos divididos según la raza, la clase, la educación, la opinión política y hasta por la actitud personal de cada uno frente sexo. Lo único que nos une es nuestra mutua separación. - Vaya, vaya! Me has corregido, eh?”
Por muy joven e idealista que pueda ser la Kelly de esta novela, eso no tiene que significar que sea tonta. Las novelas de JCO ya en los años 60 estaban repletas de alusiones irónicas a ese término que ahora suena tanto, el "mansplaining" (estos hombres explicándoles a ellas algo que ellas ya entendían o conocían, de forma condescendiente y paternalista, presuponiendo que ellas no tuvieran ni idea), y en Agua Negra es particularmente llamativo este hecho ya que en el monólogo interior de Kelly y después de conocer al senador, se encuentra en continuo conflicto consigo misma por el hecho de que no debería mostrar lo que sabe, así que se hace pasar por la típica rubia tonta, un fallo a la hora de intentar mantener el interés de un hombre porque mantener esta mentira acabaría resultando un agotamiento: “Incapaz de decir, Porque si no hago lo que me pide, no habrá un después. Lo sabes bien”. Y es por este motivo y por muchos otros a la hora de radiografiar los comportamientos de hombres y mujeres por lo que esta autora me parece tan fascinante, no solo se atreve a decir lo que normalmente no se verbaliza en los comportamientos sociales sino que tampoco le importa poner sobre el tapete el hecho de que las mujeres también usan a los hombres, y esto puede ser políticamente incorrecto expresarlo sobre todo en estos tiempos, pero a JCO no se le caen los anillos, lo expone todo. En los flujos de conciencia de sus personajes sale a relucir todo lo que esta sociedad no quiere verbalizar y en esta novela me llama la atención cómo expresa la Oates la sexualidad de Kelly: se deja a sí misma tan poco espacio para tener conciencia de si misma que está convencida de que tiene que satisfacer estas expectativas sociales, y que por el simple hecho de que el macho alfa haya puesto los ojos sobre ella un instante, ya debe sentirse sugestionada a aceptarlo “He hecho que me desearas y ahora no puedo rechazarte”. JCO explora esta sexualidad femenina en una Kelly que parece desconectada de sí misma, desconectada de su propio deseo:
“Y ella sintió la sacudida del deseo: no su deseo sino el deseo del hombre. Al igual que, desde que fue una jovencita, cuando besaba y la besaban, Kelly Kelleher sentía siempre no su propio deseo sino el del otro, el deseo del macho. Veloz y estremecedor como una descarga eléctrica.”
Agua Negra se inspira en un hecho real, que fue un escándalo en su momento en el mundo de la política norteamericana: el accidente de Chappaquiddick (1969), donde el senador Ted Kennedy salió ileso de un accidente automovilístico mientras su acompañante, Mary Jo Kopechne, murió ahogada. Joyce Carol Oates no hace una crónica, sino que lo que le importa sobre todo es llenar un espacio narrativo que en su momento fue invisibilizado. JCO recrea a la víctima horas antes cuando aquel mismo día conoce al senador en una fiesta, y aquella misma noche cuando salen de la fiesta, el coche del senador se precipita a un lago de aguas negras; el senador consigue salir del coche y Kelly queda atrapada dentro de ese coche.
“La política, el arte de negociar el poder. Eros, el arte de negociar el poder.”
La genialidad de esta novela está precisamente en que prácticamente las 140 páginas de esta novela transcurren durante el tiempo que Kelly está atrapada en el coche y a partir de aquí enfrentada a la muerte y siendo consciente de su presencia, explora lo intimo, lo psicológico y lo político, todo en una tacada. Es una genialidad de novela porque pocas veces nos encontramos con un personaje que está enfrentado a su propia muerte, los últimos pensamientos de Kelly en el agua reviviendo recuerdos de su infancia, su idealismo y poco a poco siendo consciente de la irrealidad de estos sueños y en este detalle me ha recordado mucho a la novela de Carole Maso “Ava”. JCO no se corta un pelo, y hay algún momento que es como una bofetada cuando en un juego narrativo recurrente, Kelly recuerda el zapato del senador que se queda en el coche mientras él escapa: “para escapar a pie cojeando de un modo vergonzoso con un zapato sí y otro no, una cantinela que algún día podrían entonar sus enemigos para maldecirle si no conseguía evitarlo”. La novela está repleta de simbología sobre el poder y su corrupción, y más poderoso que el símbolo del coche en el que está atrapada como una jaula, es el del zapato del senador el que a mí me deja impactada y cómo JCO usa una prenda tan simple como un zapato para simbolizar no solo el fracaso de la política y su impunidad sino el fracaso de los ideales de Kelly.
"¡Qué vergüenza, aquella desesperación con que se había agarrado al hombre, a la pernera de su pantalón, a su zapato! Mientras él daba patadas para liberarse, y le dejaba la mano y el zapato empapado. ¡Su zapato!”
Agua Negra es una novela muy corta y claustrofóbica en la que la estructura narrativa de la repetición de frases recurrentes con una pequeña variación en alguna palabra, será lo que denotará la paulatina toma de conciencia de sí misma de Kelly. Entre sueños y recuerdos, Oates nos recuerda que Kelly sigue bajo el agua negra y pantanosa, como si ella fuera un sacrificio para los dioses, y cada vez que vuelve a ese coche bajo el agua, el lector se sentirá más y más asfixiado. JCO le da voz a una mujer que en su momento fue silenciada por los más fuertes, sigue ocurriendo todos los días. JCO es para mí la autora que más y mejor habla de nosotras.
“Mientras el agua negra subía a su alrededor de un modo imperceptible y esa agua negra se escurría, se filtraba gota a gota deslizándose en finos hilillos como lágrimas por su rostro y le parecía notar el blando contacto de cientos de sanguijuelas que a tientas adherían sus bocas sobre su cuerpo; no, era solamente agua..."
I appreciate the concept/conceit of this novel: giving a voice to the woman who died in the notorious Chappaquidick accident which briefly engulfed Ted Kennedy's life in scandal. A scandal, which largely sensationalized the life of Mary Jo Kopechne, who died in a car accident whose circumstances are reasonably suspect. But Oates' novel (or what I can recall, having read it in high school), seems less intent on realizing Kopechne's life as it is intent on villainizing Ted Kennedy or rather the archetype of powerful men taking advantage of impressionable young women. I have no problem with Oates attempting to take on the latter archetype (or even Kennedy for that matter) except that she does it in the kind of one-sided screed that diminishes the agency and individualism of the Kopechne-analogue.
In speaking about her story, Where are you going? Where have you been? which was turned into a film, Oates remarked on the difficulty of adapting a story for the screen saying that a writer only works in a, "single dimension." (That story, Where are you going... is also the story of a young woman taken in by a charismatic older man, with a similar fatalistic trajectory involving a fateful drive and is also based on true events.)
My problem with Oates largely lies in her work existing in a "single dimension," (as well as the fact that great art transcends its medium) and that her characters are often types (helpless and tragic girls vs. knowing and powerful men) that are never transcend their types and never live off the page. She is understandably upset about this recurring pattern of misogyny but never gives us anything but the Chick-tract version of events and exists solely in Oates singular dimensions. Giving a voice to the voiceless is only powerful when that perspective gives us more insight, instead Oates confirms only victim-hood and powerlessness.
A very long time ago in a distant land known as the 90's, I was working with a woman who also liked to read during her lunch. She asked me if I had any interest in going with her to hear an author she liked go speak. I had never heard of this Joyce Carol Oats woman. (Seriously.) So we went to this huge church in St. Paul and the place was packed. I was surprised - This many people for some author? Hu. Cool. (I know - I was young and pretty darn clueless.)
We were all just sitting there and then all of a sudden you could feel a current in the room. I look over and this tiny woman (who looked like someone's executive assistant) walked in and took the podium. She read. It was really great.
A few days after the reading my co-worker brought in this book with a thank you for going with her to the reading. I read the book and I have to say it still haunts me. I knew nothing of the Kennedy scandal when I read this - and I was horrified. I still think about this book.
Black Water is Joyce Carol Oates' version of the Chappaquiddick incident - taking place much later in time, and with an older version of Kennedy. I wanted to love this, but I really, really didn't.
JCO uses a blunt, visceral style, heavy in repetition, and repeatedly culminating with Kopechne's stand-in, Kelly Kelleher's, thoughts during the crash and as she's accepting her fate.
I couldn't stand the way JCO wrote Kelleher, and it turns out I just had to turn to the Amazon description of her to nail it: "Kelly becomes the very embodiment of the vulnerable, romantic dreams of bright and brave women, drawn to the power that certain men command."
I hate, hate, hate this approach to this character. Kelleher is supposed to be a 26-year-old political journalist who then ends up fawning over "The Senator" (never given a name) for the fact that he's even talking to her. Someone at that age, and at that point in their career, would be well-versed in men with power and know how to talk to them without going weak at the knees. When you're a journalist, you learn at a very young age that men will try to wield their power to get you into bed. Hell, when you're a woman in any career path, you probably learn this. I had men fawning over me when I was a teenage music journalist! So I just don't buy a journalist in their mid-20s as naive and totally clueless, but Black Water is written in rose-colored glasses. She's written as too naive, and overly vulnerable and romantic for someone who's a 26-year-old political journalist who likely just wants to go get her fuck on. And if you want to shift the conversation to the real life incident, I don't think Mary Jo Kopechne was this much of a naive twit, either - she was a political influencer! She had been in politics for six years when this happened - I don't think she was as naive and romantic as this character that's supposed to be based on her.
Maybe I'm just a cynical old broad now, but I would've bought into this if the approach to Kelleher had been less about her being some sort of idealistic "good girl." I don't think that's a flattering or realistic portrait of modern women at that age. Not all women have to feel romantically about a man to want to go to bed with him. Maybe she just wanted to get laid! That would've been fine! I would've much preferred a book that didn't have such a one-sided goody-two-shoes kind of character. It would've made more sense if Kelleher had gone home with him because she wanted to try to scoop a story on him, or if it was simply that she liked sex and saw an opportunity to get laid. Instead, we get her impressions of the Senator contrasted with an old boyfriend. Homegirl, the Senator is not going to be your boyfriend, the Senator just wants to get off. Augh!
I also really struggled with the idea that a woman would write another woman to be this stupid. Just, wow.
Anyway, I could tell that JCO is a good writer and all of that, but I hated the way she wrote Kelleher, and since the book is from Kelleher's POV, that pretty much killed the whole thing for me. Not a great first impression of JCO , so if anyone has read something of hers that was good, let me know.
Το "Μαύρα νερά" ήταν ένα βιβλιαράκι που έψαχνα για αρκετό καιρό, μέχρι που το πέτυχα πριν κάτι μέρες σ'ένα παλαιοβιβλιοπωλείο και το παρήγγειλα. Χθες έφτασε στο σπίτι μου και σήμερα το διάβασα. Απογοήτευση! Αν και μικρό σε μέγεθος, με κούρασε αφάνταστα, γιατί δεν κατάφερε σε κανένα σημείο να με συγκινήσει, να με ταρακουνήσει, να με κάνει να ενδιαφερθώ έστω και στο ελάχιστο. Η όλη ιστορία είναι ένα ξαναστήσιμο ενός αληθινού περιστατικού, αυτού του ποταμού Chappaquiddick της Μασαχουσέτης, που συντάραξε τις Ηνωμένες Πολιτείες το 1969. Ο νεαρός γερουσιαστής Έντουαρντ Κένεντι οδηγούσε ένα αυτοκίνητο, το οποίο παρέκκλινε της πορείας του και έπεσε στο ποτάμι, οδηγώντας στο θάνατο τη συνοδηγό του, μια νεαρή γραμματέα.
Στην ιστορία του βιβλίου, η μεν πρωταγωνίστρια διαφέρει σε αρκετά από την αληθινή κοπέλα που πνίγηκε, ο μεν Γερουσιαστής είναι μεσήλικας και μπορεί να πει κανείς ότι παρουσιάζεται σαν εκμεταλλευτής εύπιστων κορασίδων. Ή κάτι τέτοιο. Παρακολουθούμε τις σκέψεις και τις εικόνες που έρχονται στο μυαλό της κοπέλας κατά τη διάρκεια του πνιγμού της, το πως γνωρίστηκε με τον Γερουσιαστή, το ποιες ήταν οι απόψεις της, και πάει λέγοντας. Θα μπορούσα να πω πολλά για το πως παρουσιάζονται οι δυο χαρακτήρες, για τα θέματα που επιφανειακά θίγει η Όουτς -θέματα που άπτονται της πολιτικής, της εξουσίας και του έρωτα-, για τον όλο παραληρηματικό, "ονειρικό" και, εντέλει, κουραστικό τρόπο παρουσίασης και γραφής, όμως δεν είναι απαραίτητο. Εντάξει, μπορεί να πει κανείς ότι το συγκεκριμένο στιλ και ύφος γραφής είναι ιδιαίτερο, αλλά προσωπικά με άφησε αδιάφορο.
Είναι το τρίτο βιβλίο της Όουτς που διαβάζω, μιας και το 2013 είχα διαβάσει δυο βιβλία της: Το "Ζόμπι" (ιδιαίτερο αλλά καλό) και το "Ακριβοί άνθρωποι" (κάπως μέτριο), και ειλικρινά δεν ξέρω αν τελικά είναι του γούστου μου ο τρόπος γραφής και σκέψης της συγκεκριμένης συγγραφέως. Στη βιβλιοθήκη μου έχω και το "Ο άγγελος της οργής", το οποίο σίγουρα θα διαβάσω κάποια στιγμή, αλλά είναι αβέβαιο αν θα υπάρξει περαιτέρω... διερεύνηση.
Era il 4 luglio 1969. Il giorno dell'indipendenza. Una festa che sebbene avesse quasi perso di significato, continuava ad essere celebrata da tutti gli americani. I fuochi d'artificio. Le parole roboanti dei senatori, quelle di circostanza, dette per aumentare i consensi. Le parole di un senatore, in particolare. Un uomo di 55 anni che aveva fame di vita e che la succhiava da chi di anni ne aveva trenta in meno: Elizabeth Kelleher, detta Kelly, profonda ammiratrice del Senatore. Era così giovane, Kelly, così ambiziosa. Sarebbe potuta essere la figlia del Senatore. Quella sera del 4 luglio, erano in macchina insieme. Lui al volante, con quel Rolex all'ultimo grido. Lui così spavaldo, così sicuro di sé, tanto da non lasciare spazio all'eventualità che avessero sbagliato strada. E poi la Toyota perde aderenza. E come un tuffatore finisce in acqua. Ma il Senatore è forte, è un uomo, riesce a liberarsi. Kelly resta, lì, intrappolata nel veicolo, a cercare disperatamente di incamerare quelle bolle d'aria che le permettessero di respirare. E poi fu solo acqua. Acqua nera. Cala il sipario. La fenice non risorgerà dalle sue ceneri.
Più che due stelle gli darei due palle. L’unica cosa che mi ha stupito è di quanto riuscito a gonfiarmele in così poche pagine. E trattando una storia che si prestava così bene a scriverci sopra un bel romanzo. Va bene tutto (l’indignazione morale, il bisogno di lanciare qualcosa: un grido di dolore, un messaggio etico, una rivendicazione di giustizia, una denuncia militante), ma una cosa meno banale e meno irritante proprio non si poteva fare? Volevo conoscere la Oates. Spero di aver sbagliato la porta di ingresso. Adesso, prima di riprovarci, me lo devo scordare però questo incidente (e non parlo di Chappaquiddick).
“She wasn't in love but she would love him, if that would save her.” ― Joyce Carol Oates, Black Water
Gut wrenching is how I'd describe this book. It is very short and as you may have gleaned it essentially is based on Chappaquiddick and what happened that horrible night when the car went into the water. Different names but this is the story that is told.
Ominous is the world I'd use. The reader knows everything that is going to happen ahead of time and it's really impossible not to get swept up in this.
It packs a strong punch..and may make you feel a little sick inside. This can be read in one sitting and it really makes you both angry and terribly sad. Superbly written.
Based on a tragic incident back in the late 60s involving Senator Edward M. Kennedy and a campaign secretary (Mary Jo Kopechne), this reinvented fictional account, despite only being novella length, I had to push myself to finish. Not quite literary pretentiousness of the highest order but not far off.
Nem sei porque levei tanto tempo a ler este livro. Não é extenso e a história prende a atenção. Um episódio "banal", num quatro de Julho nas Américas do final dos anos oitenta. Um carro vai na estrada e faz um desvio que supostamente encurtará o tempo de viagem, mas já os antigos diziam que quem se mete em atalhos anda toda a vida em trabalhos e os antigos, digam o que disserem, "percebiam da poda" e diziam muitas coisas acertadas.
Ora, tanto se metem em trabalhos que o carrinho vai cair nas águas negras de um rio. Nada de novo, carros caem ao rio todos os dias - não sei se sim, isto já sou eu a extrapolar - não fosse dentro do carro O Senador acompanhado de uma bela jovem com idade para ser sua filha. A partir daqui a ação vai alternando entre a aflição da jovem que fica presa dentro do carro - enquanto O Senador consegue escapar - convencida de que este voltará para a salvar (pobre inocente!), e os acontecimentos que a levaram à enrascada em que agora se encontra.
Isto já se estava mesmo a ver como é que iria acabar. Uma jovem encantada por um homem casado, com idade para ser seu pai e senador dos E.U.A. Ó filha, tu foste ludibriada e caíste (tanto que caiu ao rio :P) como um patinho na conversa do senhor político e o que é que ele te fez? Deixou-te a tomar banho dentro do carro até que os teus pulmões ficaram cheios de água! E nem sequer era um tipo assim bonito, pelo menos pela descrição dada no livro - se bem que dizem que a beleza está nos olhos de quem a contempla - mas tinha lábia e enredou-te como um peixinho.
Eu penso que a moça realmente ficou a dormir com os peixes, mas a escrita, com tanto avanço e retrocesso na ação tornou-se um pouco confusa. E havia partes que eu não sei se a moça estava em delírio, pois parecia que já tinha sido salva, mas depois já estava dentro do carro. Enfim, a lição a retirar é: jovens, cuidado com Senadores e políticos assim em geral! :D
Oates recreates a fictional story based on the accident that involved Ted Kennedy at Chappaquiddick. The story follows Kelly Kellher, a twenty six year old young woman, who is picked up by a prominent Senator after several drinks. They are driving to catch the last ferry that is about to leave and are speeding on an old country road. Because of their speed and the drinks the Senator has consumed they slide off the road and plunge into the water below. The Senator manages to escape from the car and swim to shore leaving Kelly to drown. Oates weaves the story back and forth between what occurred before the accident and Kelly's struggles in the car as she drowns.
Black Water, Joyce Carol Oates’ fictional take on the 1969 Chappaquiddick incident, is a searing and poetic look at the final, desperate moments of a life and what is revealed when a human is cut to her very core.
I did feel this novella was just a bit repetitive — as has been pointed out by other reviews on here — but maybe that’s the point. Maybe Oates is going for a spiraling free form: a feeling probably not unlike the sensation of drowning over a span of hours.
This quick read cuts like a knife, and it lingers. Absolutely superb.
Istoria este scrisă de învingători, iar acest postulat se referă, de cele mai dese ori, chiar și la interacțiunea celor care au puterea cu cei dominați de putere. Metafora samavolniciei, a dizgrației umane se regăsește perfect în romanul „Apa neagră” de Joyce Carol Oates. Țin să menționez că am tot amânat lectura acestei cărți, deși, în repetate, rânduri îmi apărea în atenție. Se pare, totuși, că fiecare carte își are ceasul său de glorie, iar prima mea întâlnire cu Oates și-a meritat așteptarea din plin. Haideți să aruncăm o privire asupra subiectului. Deci, romanul „Apa neagră” de Joyce Carol Oates prinde într-un cadru aproape cinematografic momentul când mașina unui senator american se îneacă cu o tânără invitată la bord. Acele câteva minute, ore de înec sunt prinse în lentoarea povestirii, exact ca și bolidul tras de mâlul întunecat și tăcut. Kelly Kelleher este o tânără exemplară, un adevărat patriot, care învață ce este și cu ce se mănâncă politica. E o fire ambițioasă, dar calmă, profund atașată de părinții săi, îndrăgostită de idealurile muncii sale. Totul se desfășoară într-o armonie și o normalitate până apare el, acel Mister X, acel senator exemplar în fața reflectoarelor, care însă o asigură că viața sa intimă este de departe una dintre cele mai nefericite. Kelly crede, devine obedientă, vede carisma sa dincolo masca răpitorului. Cei doi se aventurează într-un roman delicat, fragil, un melanj de emoție și de păcat. Ei doi devin ilustrația unor rapoarte în care nu e loc de mândrie, în care jena își croiește ferm calea. Iată-i gonind pe o stradă națională, îmbătați de alcool și de euforia fructului interzis. O mișcare greșită, galopantă și mașina derapează de pe șosea. De aici, Oates transformă narațiunea în cadre de film. Iată momentul căderii. Iată zbaterea celor doi. Iată momentul în care el o calcă pe cap ca să-și elibereze trupul scârnav din îmbrățișarea morții. Totul se desfășoară cu un încetinitor, de parcă acea apă neagră nu e altceva decât fluviul lui Charon, o trecere în neființă. Oates e o naratoare care pare să adere la stilul inconfundabil al Virginiei Woolf. Acea manieră cu care spune lucrurile pe jumătate, lasă paranteze deschise, dă cititorului posibilitatea de a empatiza sau de a urî – toate la un loc dau cărții o formă lipsită de clișee. Joyce Carol Oates exploatează metehnele umane, dar fără verbalizarea excesivă, fără acel element profund moralizant. Este o baladă a unei morți stupide, în care se dezvăluie treptat, încet natura umană. Pentru cei care nu cunosc substraturile romanului, acesta are la bază un eveniment real. Romanul a fost inspirat de incidentul Chappaquiddick, un accident de mașină cu un singur vehicul care a avut loc pe Insula Chappaquiddick din Massachusetts, în jurul miezului nopții, între vineri, 18 iulie și sâmbătă, 19 iulie 1969. Accidentul a fost cauzat de neglijența senatorului Edward M. (Ted) Kennedy și a dus la moartea pasagerului său, Mary Jo Kopechne, în vârstă de 28 de ani, care a rămas blocată în interiorul vehiculului. Oates a câștigat atenția mea de cititor, pentru câteva motive: - Nu a exploatat subiectul sexualității – nu veți găsi scene fierbinți, doar aluzii, suficient cât să prindă atenția cititorului; - A redat moartea într-un joc literar de anvergură. Este dificil să captezi acele ultime momente în care victima traversează culoarul memoriei; - Nu a plictisit. Nici un gram. Cred că nu voi greși afirmând faptul că romanul „Apa neagră” de Joyce Carol Oates este obsedant, curajos, non-conformist, un veritabil elogiu adus purgatoriului uman.
"Apa neagră" All 10⭐ Joyce Carol Oates Sunt titluri - metafore, titluri care parcă nu au nici o legătură cu toată povestea și îți vine să dai de pereți cu imaginația cuiva!
Sunt cărți care nu vor rămâne în memorie pentru foarte mult timp, pentru că ori sunt repetitive, ori nu au o poveste demnă de emoțiile și maturitatea ta emoțională!
Sunt autori care cerșesc atenția cititorului cu hype și titluri de bestselleruri, apă de ploaie și citate inspiraționale băgate la greu!
Ce fac cărțile scrise de Oates? Ele rămân, rămân acolo impregnate în subconștientul tău, pentru că ea este acel scriitor care știe exact cum să lase urme, ea nu scrie talmuduri unde ar încearca să cuprindă 120 personaje prost construite, ea nu scrie despre momente siropoase, ea nu face dialoguri criptate sau filosofice. Oates gradează, calculează fiecare gram în istorie, cât să dea și cât nu! Scriitoarea ia un moment oribil din viața oricărui și îl transformă într-o istorie căreia îi simți mirosul, gustul și vezi imaginea-monstru a ceea ce poate, cândva, tu credeai că e ceva frumos și făr' de cusur! Ce se întâmplă când o domnișoară își încurcă ițele cu un senator care se vrea președinte? "Apa neagră" te menține pe linia de plutire cu mici oaze de speranță și îți trage o palmă, de te ia mama sfinților! Wake up, sleeping beast! Scurtă, captivantă, reală, universală prin cinismul ei și lipsa de scrupule. Mă opresc aici, sunt prea încurcată între indignare și furie! Lăsați hype-ul, bruscați-vă liniștea puțin, aruncați-vă în extrema temelor incomode! Safe trip! Cartea o găsiți pe elefant.md Editura Polirom Polirom Moldova #foxbooks #citimpentruschimbare #joycecaroloates #apaneagră #polirom
Spare, beautifully-written roman à clef about the Ted Kennedy Chappaquiddick incident. I love how Oates chose to frame the narration and though the book is short, the main character Kelly Kelleher is fully realized. Her actions, reactions, and decisions felt true. Loved this.
Por medio de Kelly vamos conociendo como fue el día que conoció al Senador. Como después de un accidente por cual de él deja morir a Kelly. Narra los pensamientos del momento, de como cree que le van a salvar, de su futuro y pasado….historia dura
Oates has taken the tragic story of Ted Kennedy and Mary Jo Kopechne at Chappaquiddick and novelized it. And she did a great job. Finally, we can see, at least in theory, the fear and pain that Mary Jo ('Kelly') went through while Ted Kennedy ('The Senator') worked to cover his deadly actions.
For so long the incident at Chappaquiddick has focused on Kennedy and most people don't even recognize the name 'Mary Jo Kopechne'. With this work by Joyce Carol Oates we can finally get a glimpse of the story from the victim's view.
3.5 ⭐ - terzo titolo di Joyce Carol Oates che leggo, anche questo ispirato a un caso di cronaca nera come le letture precedenti. Un romanzo brevissimo, intenso e struggente che racconta gli ultimi istanti di vita di una giovane ragazza. L'idea che il futuro brillante che la attendeva le sfugga improvvisamente dalle mani per colpa di un uomo potente mi ha fatta rabbrividire. Oates ha una scrittura potente che - come per Zombie - dà il suo meglio nel formato breve (ma non vedo l'ora di ricredermi leggendo molto altro). Veramente bello e crudele al tempo stesso.
The novella constructs a fictional narrative around the historic Chappaquiddick incident in July 1969, and the drowning death of Mary Jo Kopechne. Joyce Carol Oates gives background to the young woman ("Kelly" in her rendering), and her life before and during the day she met "the Senator". The Kennedy name is used several times in the text, though never identifying Ted Kennedy as the Senator who was driving the car that crashed into the canal.
"...he'd smiled happily gripping her hand squeezing it just perceptibly too hard unconsciously as men sometimes do, as some men sometimes do, needing to see to feel that pin-prick of startled pain in your eyes, the contraction of the pupil."
There's an urgency in the writing, and JCO uses the power dynamics of the relationship, as well as the impending dread to create an unsettling story. JCO employs more traditional narrative with interior stream-of-consciousness, which keeps the reader with the tragedy, with the victim. Chapters alternate between backstory and the moment of the car crash and the "black water" rushing in - reliving again and again the last moments.
Unsettling subject matter (the ethics of telling this story are murky for me...) but the novella itself is told in an intriguing way: a story about a few seconds/minutes of time.