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È la primavera del 1977 a Holt, Colorado. Edith Goodnough giace in un letto d’ospedale, e un poliziotto sorveglia la sua stanza. Pochi mesi prima, un incendio ha distrutto la casa dove Edith abitava con il fratello Lyman. Un giorno, un cronista arriva in città a indagare sull’incidente e si rivolge a Sanders Roscoe, il vicino di casa, che non accetta di parlare per proteggere Edith. Ma è proprio la voce di Sanders a raccontarci di lei e del fratello, di una storia che inizia nel 1906, quando Roy e Ada Goodnough sono arrivati a Holt in cerca di terra e di fortuna.
La storia di Edith si lega a quella del padre di Sanders, John Roscoe, che ha condiviso con loro la dura vita nei campi, in quella infinita distesa di polvere che era la campagna del Colorado.
La Holt delle origini è l’America rurale, dove vige un codice di comportamento indiscutibile, legato alla terra e alla famiglia, e dove la felicità si sacrifica in nome del dovere e del rispetto. Nel suo romanzo d’esordio Kent Haruf racconta i suoi personaggi senza giudicarli, con la profonda fiducia nella dignità dello spirito umano che ha reso inconfondibile la sua voce letteraria.
Questo libro è per le spighe di grano, per le mucche, per i cieli d’estate e la neve, per le stelle e l’erba, per la polvere e il dondolo, per una crostata di ciliegie e per le cartoline; ma questo libro è soprattutto per gli acerbi ragazzi che eravamo, per i dettagli in cui ci siamo persi, per i guai che ci hanno ammaccato, e per la porta che siamo riusciti ad aprire, finalmente liberi di vivere giorni più luminosi.
La storia di Edith si lega a quella del padre di Sanders, John Roscoe, che ha condiviso con loro la dura vita nei campi, in quella infinita distesa di polvere che era la campagna del Colorado.
La Holt delle origini è l’America rurale, dove vige un codice di comportamento indiscutibile, legato alla terra e alla famiglia, e dove la felicità si sacrifica in nome del dovere e del rispetto. Nel suo romanzo d’esordio Kent Haruf racconta i suoi personaggi senza giudicarli, con la profonda fiducia nella dignità dello spirito umano che ha reso inconfondibile la sua voce letteraria.
Questo libro è per le spighe di grano, per le mucche, per i cieli d’estate e la neve, per le stelle e l’erba, per la polvere e il dondolo, per una crostata di ciliegie e per le cartoline; ma questo libro è soprattutto per gli acerbi ragazzi che eravamo, per i dettagli in cui ci siamo persi, per i guai che ci hanno ammaccato, e per la porta che siamo riusciti ad aprire, finalmente liberi di vivere giorni più luminosi.
264 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1984
399 people are currently reading
8088 people want to read
About the author
Kent Haruf
17 books1,972 followersKent Haruf was born in eastern Colorado. He received his Bachelors of Arts in literature from Nebraska Wesleyan University in 1965 and his Masters of Fine Arts from the Iowa Writers' Workshop at the University of Iowa in 1973. For two years, he taught English in Turkey with the Peace Corps and his other jobs have included a chicken farm in Colorado, a construction site in Wyoming, a rehabilitation hospital in Colorado, a hospital in Arizona, a library in Iowa, an alternative high school in Wisconsin, and universities in Nebraska and Illinois.
Haruf is the author of Plainsong, which received the Mountains and Plains Booksellers Award, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, the Maria Thomas Award in Fiction, and The New Yorker Book Award. Plainsong was also a finalist for the 1999 National Book Award. His novel, The Tie That Binds, received a Whiting Foundation Award and a special citation from the Pen/Hemingway Foundation. In 2006, Haruf was awarded the Dos Passos Prize for Literature.
All of his novels are set in the fictional town of Holt, Colorado. Holt is loosely based on Yuma, Colorado, an early residence of Haruf in the 1980s.
Haruf lived with his wife, Cathy, in Salida, Colorado, with their three daughters. He died of cancer on November 30, 2014.
Haruf is the author of Plainsong, which received the Mountains and Plains Booksellers Award, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, the Maria Thomas Award in Fiction, and The New Yorker Book Award. Plainsong was also a finalist for the 1999 National Book Award. His novel, The Tie That Binds, received a Whiting Foundation Award and a special citation from the Pen/Hemingway Foundation. In 2006, Haruf was awarded the Dos Passos Prize for Literature.
All of his novels are set in the fictional town of Holt, Colorado. Holt is loosely based on Yuma, Colorado, an early residence of Haruf in the 1980s.
Haruf lived with his wife, Cathy, in Salida, Colorado, with their three daughters. He died of cancer on November 30, 2014.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,327 reviews
February 3, 2018
There are a few facts that astound me about this novel. The first, is that this was Kent Haruf’s debut novel. The second, is that although it was “critically acclaimed”, apparently it was not a large commercial success.
On the first point, this novel does not read like any debut novel I have read. Granted, many debuts are smashingly good. However, Kent Haruf doesn’t “do” smashing. He does subtle. And clear. And he makes each word count. Each sentence matters and when threaded together, they give his novels an authenticity that gives me chills when I read them. This, his first novel, did exactly that many times over.
On the second point, I can’t help feeling sad that not only was Kent Haruf’s book writing cut short at the end of his sixth novel, but that his greatness wasn’t recognized until after he was gone. It also makes me wonder how his books completely passed me by until last year. On the other hand, better late than never and I hope that his writing continues to attract the readers and acclaim that have surged over the past several years.
This book covers more than 80 years, and yet it is written so well that each character introduced takes on dimension. Each of the years written about allows us to be part of the struggles, the births, the growing, the deaths, the mourning, the fun – and funny incidents – and the daily lives of the characters. For me, Haruf’s writing framed all of it in a series of mental photographs that began to move together in one continuum, like heat waves shimmering over the pavement of a Colorado highway on the hottest day of summer.
This story is about a woman born in 1897 and how she bent to the needs of her family time and again with an unshakable sense of responsibility, and without one iota of martyrdom attached. When she is 80 years old, she faces a murder charge, and the chasm between who she is and the life she led versus the viewpoint of the law is wider than the Grand Canyon. The narrator is her plain-spoken yet brilliantly eloquent closest neighbour and friend.
If you have not yet read this book, I strongly recommend that you do, and that you listen carefully to what this man has to say. It is powerful and sensitive and genuine.
On the first point, this novel does not read like any debut novel I have read. Granted, many debuts are smashingly good. However, Kent Haruf doesn’t “do” smashing. He does subtle. And clear. And he makes each word count. Each sentence matters and when threaded together, they give his novels an authenticity that gives me chills when I read them. This, his first novel, did exactly that many times over.
On the second point, I can’t help feeling sad that not only was Kent Haruf’s book writing cut short at the end of his sixth novel, but that his greatness wasn’t recognized until after he was gone. It also makes me wonder how his books completely passed me by until last year. On the other hand, better late than never and I hope that his writing continues to attract the readers and acclaim that have surged over the past several years.
This book covers more than 80 years, and yet it is written so well that each character introduced takes on dimension. Each of the years written about allows us to be part of the struggles, the births, the growing, the deaths, the mourning, the fun – and funny incidents – and the daily lives of the characters. For me, Haruf’s writing framed all of it in a series of mental photographs that began to move together in one continuum, like heat waves shimmering over the pavement of a Colorado highway on the hottest day of summer.
This story is about a woman born in 1897 and how she bent to the needs of her family time and again with an unshakable sense of responsibility, and without one iota of martyrdom attached. When she is 80 years old, she faces a murder charge, and the chasm between who she is and the life she led versus the viewpoint of the law is wider than the Grand Canyon. The narrator is her plain-spoken yet brilliantly eloquent closest neighbour and friend.
If you have not yet read this book, I strongly recommend that you do, and that you listen carefully to what this man has to say. It is powerful and sensitive and genuine.
November 27, 2023
LA STRADA DI CASA
Haruf debutta con questo romanzo nel 1984 e ci vorranno altri quindici anni di silenzio assoluto prima del suo capolavoro, Plainsong – Canto della pianura, prima che adotti la voce di un narratore in terza persona, voce, questa, discreta, quasi bisbigliata, scarna e a suo modo laconica.
Qui, invece, sorprende il lettore un io narrante forte, loquace, tosto, perfino aggressivo, che ha la sfrontatezza di rivolgersi a un immaginario ascoltatore, qualcuno che prende il posto del giovane reporter del Denver Post che Sanders, l’io narrante, manda a casa e a quel paese rifiutandosi di rispondere alle sue domande. Anche se poi con noi lettori s’inventa la scusa che se il giornalista avesse chiesto con gentilezza, lui, Sanders, avrebbe risposto.
Un io narrante che si misura con la Storia, con l’epica del West, anche se si tratta degli ultimi coloni, quelli che arrivarono quando gli indiani erano già stati tutti eliminati, uccisi o rinchiusi nelle riserve.
E la si potrebbe definire la nascita di Holt, il paesello-mondo che Haruf ha creato e collocato nel Colorado delle grandi pianure – pianure più di sabbia che di fertile terra scura: vediamo crescere la cittadina, da una manciata di case e qualche centinaio di abitanti perlopiù contadinotti, a quella che accoglierà la sua trilogia (della pianura).
Mentre Holt s’allarga e si popola, il mondo si trasforma:
E così passarono quasi vent’anni. Il Proibizionismo cominciò e finì. Arrivò la Grande Depressione – e durò così a lungo che la gente iniziò a pensare che fosse la normalità. Ci furono la Guerra civile in Spagna, un Roosevelt alla Casa Bianca, un pazzo scatenato in Germania, mentre ai Goodnough non successe proprio niente. Laggiù era sempre lo stesso grigiore.
Ma la parte più bella, quella dove si esprime meglio il talento di Haruf, è quella fatta di momenti storici che non entreranno mai nei libri di storia. È quella dell’epica del quotidiano: personaggi ordinari che diventano straordinari nella loro capacità di resistenza, e furore, e acquiescenza, e rinuncia. Personaggi che sanno di tragedia, che hanno statura biblica.
Rinuncia sembra essere l’elemento più forte: Edith e suo fratello Lyman rinunciano alla loro vita personale, alla libertà, alla realizzazione, lei totalmente, lui in buona parte, e soccombono davanti (e sotto a) un padre padrone che tutto sommato sarebbe crollato al primo colpo assestato seriamente.
Hojjat Hamidi, autore dello scatto sulla copertina.
Certi momenti, certi duetti, certi legami (Edith e il suo possibile sposo, Edith e il figlio di quel suo possibile sposo…), resteranno nel mio cuore.
Anche se Haruf doveva ancora trovare la sua misura, e in alcuni punti mi pare che sbavi, vada fuori dai giusti margini, giudichi, sia di parte - prima di tutto, dalla parte dei suoi personaggi femminili, Esther e non solo - cosa che in seguito non si ripeterà più.
Verso la fine mi ricordo di aver detto una cosa ingenua e sciocca come: Ma non è giusto. E lui mi rispose: Certo che non è giusto. Niente in questa faccenda è giusto. La vita non lo è. E tutti i nostri pensieri su come dovrebbe essere non servono a un cavolo, a quanto pare. Tanto vale che tu lo sappia subito.
Kent Haruf e il Colorado.
Haruf debutta con questo romanzo nel 1984 e ci vorranno altri quindici anni di silenzio assoluto prima del suo capolavoro, Plainsong – Canto della pianura, prima che adotti la voce di un narratore in terza persona, voce, questa, discreta, quasi bisbigliata, scarna e a suo modo laconica.
Qui, invece, sorprende il lettore un io narrante forte, loquace, tosto, perfino aggressivo, che ha la sfrontatezza di rivolgersi a un immaginario ascoltatore, qualcuno che prende il posto del giovane reporter del Denver Post che Sanders, l’io narrante, manda a casa e a quel paese rifiutandosi di rispondere alle sue domande. Anche se poi con noi lettori s’inventa la scusa che se il giornalista avesse chiesto con gentilezza, lui, Sanders, avrebbe risposto.
Un io narrante che si misura con la Storia, con l’epica del West, anche se si tratta degli ultimi coloni, quelli che arrivarono quando gli indiani erano già stati tutti eliminati, uccisi o rinchiusi nelle riserve.
E la si potrebbe definire la nascita di Holt, il paesello-mondo che Haruf ha creato e collocato nel Colorado delle grandi pianure – pianure più di sabbia che di fertile terra scura: vediamo crescere la cittadina, da una manciata di case e qualche centinaio di abitanti perlopiù contadinotti, a quella che accoglierà la sua trilogia (della pianura).
Mentre Holt s’allarga e si popola, il mondo si trasforma:
E così passarono quasi vent’anni. Il Proibizionismo cominciò e finì. Arrivò la Grande Depressione – e durò così a lungo che la gente iniziò a pensare che fosse la normalità. Ci furono la Guerra civile in Spagna, un Roosevelt alla Casa Bianca, un pazzo scatenato in Germania, mentre ai Goodnough non successe proprio niente. Laggiù era sempre lo stesso grigiore.
Ma la parte più bella, quella dove si esprime meglio il talento di Haruf, è quella fatta di momenti storici che non entreranno mai nei libri di storia. È quella dell’epica del quotidiano: personaggi ordinari che diventano straordinari nella loro capacità di resistenza, e furore, e acquiescenza, e rinuncia. Personaggi che sanno di tragedia, che hanno statura biblica.
Rinuncia sembra essere l’elemento più forte: Edith e suo fratello Lyman rinunciano alla loro vita personale, alla libertà, alla realizzazione, lei totalmente, lui in buona parte, e soccombono davanti (e sotto a) un padre padrone che tutto sommato sarebbe crollato al primo colpo assestato seriamente.
Hojjat Hamidi, autore dello scatto sulla copertina.
Certi momenti, certi duetti, certi legami (Edith e il suo possibile sposo, Edith e il figlio di quel suo possibile sposo…), resteranno nel mio cuore.
Anche se Haruf doveva ancora trovare la sua misura, e in alcuni punti mi pare che sbavi, vada fuori dai giusti margini, giudichi, sia di parte - prima di tutto, dalla parte dei suoi personaggi femminili, Esther e non solo - cosa che in seguito non si ripeterà più.
Verso la fine mi ricordo di aver detto una cosa ingenua e sciocca come: Ma non è giusto. E lui mi rispose: Certo che non è giusto. Niente in questa faccenda è giusto. La vita non lo è. E tutti i nostri pensieri su come dovrebbe essere non servono a un cavolo, a quanto pare. Tanto vale che tu lo sappia subito.
Kent Haruf e il Colorado.
September 6, 2016
****4.5 Stars****I’m saddened that this gifted writer is now gone. No one (to my knowledge) has written such eloquent and truthful tributes to the people who live and work out on the high plains of eastern Colorado where I grew up. This novel setting is Holt, Colorado, an imaginary farm town very near where my own family homesteaded.
At times the story is heart wrenching and evocative. The author’s rich details of rural farm life and the connection with neighbors were spot-on and elegantly portrayed in this beautiful novel. Elements of the story resonate with me personally…undoubtedly because I’m the granddaughter of eastern Colorado dry land farmers… and my own parents (contemporaries of Edith and Lyman) lived their whole lives in that small farming community where I grew up. I found myself relating to and reminiscing with this narrator’s past recollections as they conjured up stories of my own family history.
Edith Goodnough’s personal life is a gut-wrenching tale at times as she struggles to cope with the hardscrabble farm life (of the early 20th century) and the demands of a disabled, venomous and belligerent father. I was reminded of the main character in one of my favorite novels, Stoner. Both Edith and William Stoner persevered without complaint in the face of so much adversity.
Sanders (Sandy) Roscoe, Edith’s sweet-natured, engaging neighbor and long-time friend is the narrator of this story. He begins his account in 1977 as an elderly Edith is recovering from injuries in a hospital…the door guarded by a deputy. The tale unfolds over 80 years in flashbacks to reveal a lifespan of tragic events for Edith (and her family) and which led up to her present difficulty.
I absolutely love Kent Haruf’s style of writing…pared down, restrained and lyrical. This was his first novel (written in 1984) and confirms his potential as the writer he will become in his later masterpieces. Highly recommended!
At times the story is heart wrenching and evocative. The author’s rich details of rural farm life and the connection with neighbors were spot-on and elegantly portrayed in this beautiful novel. Elements of the story resonate with me personally…undoubtedly because I’m the granddaughter of eastern Colorado dry land farmers… and my own parents (contemporaries of Edith and Lyman) lived their whole lives in that small farming community where I grew up. I found myself relating to and reminiscing with this narrator’s past recollections as they conjured up stories of my own family history.
Edith Goodnough’s personal life is a gut-wrenching tale at times as she struggles to cope with the hardscrabble farm life (of the early 20th century) and the demands of a disabled, venomous and belligerent father. I was reminded of the main character in one of my favorite novels, Stoner. Both Edith and William Stoner persevered without complaint in the face of so much adversity.
Sanders (Sandy) Roscoe, Edith’s sweet-natured, engaging neighbor and long-time friend is the narrator of this story. He begins his account in 1977 as an elderly Edith is recovering from injuries in a hospital…the door guarded by a deputy. The tale unfolds over 80 years in flashbacks to reveal a lifespan of tragic events for Edith (and her family) and which led up to her present difficulty.
I absolutely love Kent Haruf’s style of writing…pared down, restrained and lyrical. This was his first novel (written in 1984) and confirms his potential as the writer he will become in his later masterpieces. Highly recommended!
April 26, 2019
The Tie That Binds is my third novel by Kent Haruf and this is a beautifully written and deeply affecting story. Hypnotic in his storytelling, heartbreaking and a real page turner.
This was Kent Haruf’s debut novel and what an engaging and haunting first novel it is, Set in the plains of Eastern Colorado in the early to mid 20th century The Tie that binds tells the story of an 80 year old Edith Goodnough, a woman from the American High plains who is charged with murder. Her neighbour Sanders Roscoe recounts her story in a slow and captivating manner and because I listened to this one on audible the voice of Narrator Danny Campbell add an extra quality to the experience as his voice is just a pure treat to listen to and works especially well for this novel.
Incredibly well drawn characters that just take hold of you and you read as if you are under a spell and not wanting this story to end. A tale which reflects on family and responsibility and the sacrifices that are made by the “Tie that binds”.
With its frontier setting, compelling characters, harsh and vivid descriptions of farming life this is a story that is deep and heart wrenching and will stay with me for a long time. This is one of those books that I can highly recommend on audible and it would make a terrific book club read also.
This was Kent Haruf’s debut novel and what an engaging and haunting first novel it is, Set in the plains of Eastern Colorado in the early to mid 20th century The Tie that binds tells the story of an 80 year old Edith Goodnough, a woman from the American High plains who is charged with murder. Her neighbour Sanders Roscoe recounts her story in a slow and captivating manner and because I listened to this one on audible the voice of Narrator Danny Campbell add an extra quality to the experience as his voice is just a pure treat to listen to and works especially well for this novel.
Incredibly well drawn characters that just take hold of you and you read as if you are under a spell and not wanting this story to end. A tale which reflects on family and responsibility and the sacrifices that are made by the “Tie that binds”.
With its frontier setting, compelling characters, harsh and vivid descriptions of farming life this is a story that is deep and heart wrenching and will stay with me for a long time. This is one of those books that I can highly recommend on audible and it would make a terrific book club read also.
August 30, 2019
This is an incredibly mature work to be Haruf’s first novel, and a reminder of the author’s rare sensitivity to portray endurance, compassion and the silent but overpowering presence of the dry, plain lands of Colorado.
Revisiting Holt was a moving experience for this humbled reader. Even if the characters of the Plainsong trilogy were absent I sensed their resilient, humble spirit in Edith Goodnough, the protagonist of this quiet but intense story.
The plot is almost non-existent. After Edith’s mother dies, aged only 42, she has to take over all of her mother's chores and duties at the farm under the orders of her violent father, whose only priority is the farming and prosperity of his state. Further tragedy strikes and Edith becomes the prisoner of her own family, sacrificing her only chance at being happy in order to take care of her mangled father and weak-willed brother.
The reader learns about Edith’s story through the eyes of Sandy Roscoe, the son of the only man she ever loved and the only neighbor in the surroundings of her isolated home. Haruf’s concept of “extended family” shines through for the first time in this novel, and Edith can at least bask in the company of her surrogate son, observing how he struggles to become the man his father would have been proud of.
Reading Haruf brought my recent reading experience with McCarthy back to mind. The desolate, almost asphyxiating atmosphere that Haruf evokes in his novels is not so dissimilar to McCarthy’s ruthless vision of the world . But while Haruf keeps faith in the goodness of humanity, McCarthy seems to have lost all hope in mankind, and I can’t help but feel at home with the first and perturbed with the second.
Haruf’s prose is subtle and sad. Beauty glimmers faintly between the silences and the austerity of a life devoted to others, to work, to fulfill the obligations imposed by the rules of a society where women don’t have a choice. Beauty flickers through the resilient spirit of a person like Edith Goodnough, a fighter and the bravest heroine I’ve come across in a while. Beauty is hidden deep, underneath all the pain, repressed yearning and mute desperation, discernible only to the few who look at the world like Edith does; with hope, patience and sympathy.
A shame that most people can’t see the same, and that beautiful souls like hers end up tied to the heavy load of undeserved burdens.
Revisiting Holt was a moving experience for this humbled reader. Even if the characters of the Plainsong trilogy were absent I sensed their resilient, humble spirit in Edith Goodnough, the protagonist of this quiet but intense story.
The plot is almost non-existent. After Edith’s mother dies, aged only 42, she has to take over all of her mother's chores and duties at the farm under the orders of her violent father, whose only priority is the farming and prosperity of his state. Further tragedy strikes and Edith becomes the prisoner of her own family, sacrificing her only chance at being happy in order to take care of her mangled father and weak-willed brother.
The reader learns about Edith’s story through the eyes of Sandy Roscoe, the son of the only man she ever loved and the only neighbor in the surroundings of her isolated home. Haruf’s concept of “extended family” shines through for the first time in this novel, and Edith can at least bask in the company of her surrogate son, observing how he struggles to become the man his father would have been proud of.
Reading Haruf brought my recent reading experience with McCarthy back to mind. The desolate, almost asphyxiating atmosphere that Haruf evokes in his novels is not so dissimilar to McCarthy’s ruthless vision of the world . But while Haruf keeps faith in the goodness of humanity, McCarthy seems to have lost all hope in mankind, and I can’t help but feel at home with the first and perturbed with the second.
Haruf’s prose is subtle and sad. Beauty glimmers faintly between the silences and the austerity of a life devoted to others, to work, to fulfill the obligations imposed by the rules of a society where women don’t have a choice. Beauty flickers through the resilient spirit of a person like Edith Goodnough, a fighter and the bravest heroine I’ve come across in a while. Beauty is hidden deep, underneath all the pain, repressed yearning and mute desperation, discernible only to the few who look at the world like Edith does; with hope, patience and sympathy.
A shame that most people can’t see the same, and that beautiful souls like hers end up tied to the heavy load of undeserved burdens.
July 17, 2016
4.5 Stars
If you like well-developed characters and addictive stories, you'll love Kent Haruf as well as his first novel, THE TIE THAT BINDS.
Neighbor and family friend Sanders Roscoe narrates the life story of 80 year old Edith Goodnough and how she came to be lying in a hospital bed accused of murder.
Her long, unimaginable hard life is filled with tragedy and constant sacrifice as she lives with her wild exasperating father and thoughtless brother. Oh the life that might have been.......I just wanted to push Edith right out the door!
Highly recommend this beautifully descriptive and powerful look at a woman of strength and labor-intensive farm life in Holt, Colorado. (sad I only have two more Haruf novels left to read)
March 25, 2022
This is a sad novel for me for two reasons. The first is that the story of Edith Goodnough's life on a farm outside Holt, Colorado was filled with sadness, sacrifice, and very little joy, except what little pleasures she could find here and there. I was rooting for her to walk away from her enraged, nasty father every time he opened his mouth, to marry when she had the chance, to escape, one way or another. Her dignity and determination to carry her responsibilities as far as she could manage stopped her. I admit to not understanding that brand of family loyalty, but I tried, just like her neighbor, Sanders Roscoe, who narrates the story. Just like the rest of Haruf's novels, this is a simply told tale about everyday people living everyday lives and dealing with what life hands them, good or bad. Beautiful in its simplicity, we live Edith's life right alongside her, and in the end, find it good because she saw no other way.
The second reason this was sad for me is that it completes my reading of the six novels he left us before his death. I have no more to read for the first time, no more new Kent Haruf novels to look forward to. There is always rereading though. I've read Plainsong twice already, and will surely reread the others when I need to re-enter that small community of Holt and the lives of people I've come to love. In that sense, we never really lost Kent Haruf to death; he waits right there on the shelf to welcome us back when we feel the need.
The second reason this was sad for me is that it completes my reading of the six novels he left us before his death. I have no more to read for the first time, no more new Kent Haruf novels to look forward to. There is always rereading though. I've read Plainsong twice already, and will surely reread the others when I need to re-enter that small community of Holt and the lives of people I've come to love. In that sense, we never really lost Kent Haruf to death; he waits right there on the shelf to welcome us back when we feel the need.
December 3, 2024
A conversation I had with myself about this, the latest Kent Haruf novel I read:
Jesse: Well, Jesse, what did we think of The Tie That Binds?
Jesse: Well, Jesse, I'll tell you. We absolutely loved it!! Kent has once again delivered a one-of-a-kind, masterfully crafted, and absolutely beautifully told story.
Jesse: Don't you think Holt, Colorado is a little played out?
Jesse: No, I don't think the high plains town of Holt is played out. Much like Steve King and Maine, Kent adds layers to Holt with every story he tells, and those layers add up to a small town with... well, a lot of layers.
Jesse: So, Jesse, you think other people would enjoy this book as much as you?
Jesse: As you know, Jesse, I've only recently discovered my friend Kent's works, and I'm both overjoyed and saddened by that fact. Overjoyed because everything I've read by him so far has been pure gold, to say the least, and I can't wait to move on to his next book. And saddened because I've not only been missing out on Kent's writing my entire life, all 37 years of it, but also because the more I read of his, the less there is to read of his, and nothing is better than the first reading of an amazing author, we all know that.
Jesse: Well, Jesse, good talk. Do you think we should do some work now? (I forgot to mention this conversation took place at work, while I was neglecting real responsibilities.)
Jesse: Nope!!
Jesse: Well, Jesse, what did we think of The Tie That Binds?
Jesse: Well, Jesse, I'll tell you. We absolutely loved it!! Kent has once again delivered a one-of-a-kind, masterfully crafted, and absolutely beautifully told story.
Jesse: Don't you think Holt, Colorado is a little played out?
Jesse: No, I don't think the high plains town of Holt is played out. Much like Steve King and Maine, Kent adds layers to Holt with every story he tells, and those layers add up to a small town with... well, a lot of layers.
Jesse: So, Jesse, you think other people would enjoy this book as much as you?
Jesse: As you know, Jesse, I've only recently discovered my friend Kent's works, and I'm both overjoyed and saddened by that fact. Overjoyed because everything I've read by him so far has been pure gold, to say the least, and I can't wait to move on to his next book. And saddened because I've not only been missing out on Kent's writing my entire life, all 37 years of it, but also because the more I read of his, the less there is to read of his, and nothing is better than the first reading of an amazing author, we all know that.
Jesse: Well, Jesse, good talk. Do you think we should do some work now? (I forgot to mention this conversation took place at work, while I was neglecting real responsibilities.)
Jesse: Nope!!
April 7, 2024
This is one of those very rare books that I wish would go on forever.
In fact, with the exception of Our Souls at Night, which it was clearly not finished at the time of publication, every work by Kent Haruf stands out as a perfect example of what I look for in a work of fiction.
First, and most important of all, the dialogue is pure perfection. And the things is, when the dialogue is this good and authentic, it becomes a lot easier to bring characters to life.
And let me tell you this, my friends, for me, the way these characters jumped out of the pages in just a few sentences has to be one of the closest things to magic that I’ve ever experienced.
Published exactly forty years ago (Wow!!), this is a debut novel that simply eclipses (Aha!!) ninety nine percent of all the stuff I’ve read in my life.
This is storytelling at its finest, and I’m very happy I was alive to experience it.
Wherever you are, Mr Haruf, thank you for the stories.
In fact, with the exception of Our Souls at Night, which it was clearly not finished at the time of publication, every work by Kent Haruf stands out as a perfect example of what I look for in a work of fiction.
First, and most important of all, the dialogue is pure perfection. And the things is, when the dialogue is this good and authentic, it becomes a lot easier to bring characters to life.
And let me tell you this, my friends, for me, the way these characters jumped out of the pages in just a few sentences has to be one of the closest things to magic that I’ve ever experienced.
Published exactly forty years ago (Wow!!), this is a debut novel that simply eclipses (Aha!!) ninety nine percent of all the stuff I’ve read in my life.
This is storytelling at its finest, and I’m very happy I was alive to experience it.
Wherever you are, Mr Haruf, thank you for the stories.
November 22, 2018
Holt In My Mind
Torno a Holt, inconsapevolmente, per la quinta volta perché non sapevo che tutti* i romanzi di Kent Haruf fossero ambientati nella cittadina immaginaria del Colorado: «potrebbe essere Yuma, o qualsiasi altra piccola città di una sperduta contea nordamericana» dove Haruf è vissuto.
È il primo romanzo di un autore adulto, poco più che quarantenne, letterariamente e stilisticamente giovane (se si pensa solo all’enorme lavoro di sottrazione fatto fra il primo e l’ultimo romanzo della trilogia, fra Canto della pianura e Benedizione si può osservare tutta l’evoluzione della sua scrittura), ma non per questo immaturo, niente affatto.
È un fiume in piena, qui, la voce di Haruf, è generosa di dialoghi, di descrizioni, di situazioni e atmosfere sfaccettate, più complesse, per certi aspetti, di quelle delle storie che seguiranno.
Ma c’è tutta Holt in nuce, e forse, a pensarci bene, è molto più di un abbozzo, perché una vera e propria carta topografica inizia a essere disegnata, e così come racconta in breve anche la consueta bella nota del traduttore Fabio Cremonesi, i luoghi di Holt - dalla ferramenta alla taverna, dall’ospedale alla Main Street - iniziano a prendere forma, a ospitare fra le loro mura e per le strade, nei campi e nelle fattorie, gli antenati dei personaggi che verranno che, forse, nella mente e attraverso la penna di Kent Haruf, iniziavano già a esistere e a raccontare le loro storie.
Ed è un fiume in piena Sanders Roscoe, cinquantenne allevatore di bestiame e voce narrante di “Vincoli”, anche se la storia di Edith Goodnough, che quasi ottantenne giace nel letto dell’ospedale di Holt attesa dallo sceriffo che vuole interrogarla, non intende raccontarla al giovane giornalista del Denver Post che lo incalza.
La racconta volentieri a noi, però, ipotetici interlocutori, così come l’avrebbe raccontata nella taverna, sorseggiando una birra, anche a quell’impettito ragazzo di città con il taccuino in mano, se solo gliel’avesse chiesto con meno arroganza; perché la storia dei fratelli Edith e Lyman Goodnough (che inizia nel 1906 quando i giovani genitori arrivano dall’Iowa e prendono possesso di 160 acri di terra in Colorado), la storia dei Goodnough, genitori e figli, è anche la storia di John Roscoe, suo padre, e quindi, anche la sua.
Quella che Haruf ci racconta, per voce di Sandy, è una storia di famiglia, come già altre ce ne racconterà in seguito, che prende l’avvio in un periodo (a cavallo fra gli ultimi anni dell’Ottocento e i primi del Novecento del secolo scorso) in cui le masse avevano già smesso di migrare da uno stato all’altro in carovana, ma in cui le famiglie (come quella dei nostri protagonisti) avevano ancora l’occasione di inseguire una vita migliore spostandosi da una parte all’altra degli Stati Uniti. Ma la storia che Haruf ci vuole raccontare non è solo una storia di sudore e terra, di polvere e fatica, di sangue e violenze, ma è soprattutto una storia di legami, di vincoli che tengono padri, madri e figli, indissolubilmente legati gli uni agli altri alla loro terra, anche a discapito della ragione, anche laddove sciogliere alcuni legami vorrebbe dire cominciare a esistere (e qui il richiamo mi porta inevitabilmente alla mia recente lettura Ora che è novembre di Josephine Johnson). Così questa storia, che è di una bellezza lancinante e sommessa, e sembra seguire il solco già tracciato da altre storie immortali come quella di Stoner di John Williams o de Il potere del cane di Thomas Savage, riesce a essere l’unica storia possibile da raccontare, lo capisce bene Sanders Roscoe, anche quando adolescente dice al padre John che gli racconta la prima parte della sua vita “ma non è giusto”. Non è giusto, ma è così, è stato così.
Stupisce, come scrivevo all’inizio, questo Haruf così ciarliero, e non credo di fargli un torto dicendo che forse alcuni passaggi avrebbero potuto essere semplificati, ma è anche l’occasione per ritrovare, ancora libero dal desiderio di ridurre all’essenziale la sua scrittura, a briglie sciolte, in questa storia illuminata ancora una volta dalla sua grazia e dalla sua gentilezza, da quella sensibilità che gli consente di raccontare anche avvenimenti crudi e duri, con una screziatura, questa volta, quasi noir, senza per questo apparire mai sgradevole, quella sottile vena di ironia che già si era affacciata qua e là anche nella Trilogia della Pianura, ma più evidente soprattutto nel suo ultimo romanzo: sembra quasi di vederlo sorridere sornione sotto ai baffi a volte, sembra quasi di sentirlo dire “Ora vi racconto una storia, mettetevi comodi. C’era una volta, in Colorado, un posto chiamato Holt…”: «uscirono da Denver, allontanandosi dalle montagne per tornare sugli altopiani: artemisia e yucca e gramigna ed erba del bisonte nei pascoli, grano e mais nei campi. Ai due lati della Statale c'erano piste sterrate che correvano sotto il cielo terso, dritte come le righe di un libro, con poche cittadine isolate sparse nella pianura sconfinata.»
Leggere Vincoli e associare alcuni pensieri a Disobedience (il film, il romanzo non l’ho letto, ma ho letto questo commento con alcune bellissime riflessioni che mi hanno invogliata a farlo), ai legami che incatenano a una vita che potrebbe essere altro, contrapposti al libero arbitrio e alla libertà di scegliere, all’inadeguatezza che a a volte ci fa combattere contro quello che abbiamo sempre desiderato, è stato quasi un esercizio automatico, un riflesso condizionato.
*(Sono sei, questo è il suo primo e seguirà nel 2019 la traduzione del secondo - Where You Once Belonged - che precedono entrambi la più nota Trilogia della Pianura e l’ultimo, Le nostre anime di notte, scritto prima della sua morte)
Torno a Holt, inconsapevolmente, per la quinta volta perché non sapevo che tutti* i romanzi di Kent Haruf fossero ambientati nella cittadina immaginaria del Colorado: «potrebbe essere Yuma, o qualsiasi altra piccola città di una sperduta contea nordamericana» dove Haruf è vissuto.
È il primo romanzo di un autore adulto, poco più che quarantenne, letterariamente e stilisticamente giovane (se si pensa solo all’enorme lavoro di sottrazione fatto fra il primo e l’ultimo romanzo della trilogia, fra Canto della pianura e Benedizione si può osservare tutta l’evoluzione della sua scrittura), ma non per questo immaturo, niente affatto.
È un fiume in piena, qui, la voce di Haruf, è generosa di dialoghi, di descrizioni, di situazioni e atmosfere sfaccettate, più complesse, per certi aspetti, di quelle delle storie che seguiranno.
Ma c’è tutta Holt in nuce, e forse, a pensarci bene, è molto più di un abbozzo, perché una vera e propria carta topografica inizia a essere disegnata, e così come racconta in breve anche la consueta bella nota del traduttore Fabio Cremonesi, i luoghi di Holt - dalla ferramenta alla taverna, dall’ospedale alla Main Street - iniziano a prendere forma, a ospitare fra le loro mura e per le strade, nei campi e nelle fattorie, gli antenati dei personaggi che verranno che, forse, nella mente e attraverso la penna di Kent Haruf, iniziavano già a esistere e a raccontare le loro storie.
Ed è un fiume in piena Sanders Roscoe, cinquantenne allevatore di bestiame e voce narrante di “Vincoli”, anche se la storia di Edith Goodnough, che quasi ottantenne giace nel letto dell’ospedale di Holt attesa dallo sceriffo che vuole interrogarla, non intende raccontarla al giovane giornalista del Denver Post che lo incalza.
La racconta volentieri a noi, però, ipotetici interlocutori, così come l’avrebbe raccontata nella taverna, sorseggiando una birra, anche a quell’impettito ragazzo di città con il taccuino in mano, se solo gliel’avesse chiesto con meno arroganza; perché la storia dei fratelli Edith e Lyman Goodnough (che inizia nel 1906 quando i giovani genitori arrivano dall’Iowa e prendono possesso di 160 acri di terra in Colorado), la storia dei Goodnough, genitori e figli, è anche la storia di John Roscoe, suo padre, e quindi, anche la sua.
Quella che Haruf ci racconta, per voce di Sandy, è una storia di famiglia, come già altre ce ne racconterà in seguito, che prende l’avvio in un periodo (a cavallo fra gli ultimi anni dell’Ottocento e i primi del Novecento del secolo scorso) in cui le masse avevano già smesso di migrare da uno stato all’altro in carovana, ma in cui le famiglie (come quella dei nostri protagonisti) avevano ancora l’occasione di inseguire una vita migliore spostandosi da una parte all’altra degli Stati Uniti. Ma la storia che Haruf ci vuole raccontare non è solo una storia di sudore e terra, di polvere e fatica, di sangue e violenze, ma è soprattutto una storia di legami, di vincoli che tengono padri, madri e figli, indissolubilmente legati gli uni agli altri alla loro terra, anche a discapito della ragione, anche laddove sciogliere alcuni legami vorrebbe dire cominciare a esistere (e qui il richiamo mi porta inevitabilmente alla mia recente lettura Ora che è novembre di Josephine Johnson). Così questa storia, che è di una bellezza lancinante e sommessa, e sembra seguire il solco già tracciato da altre storie immortali come quella di Stoner di John Williams o de Il potere del cane di Thomas Savage, riesce a essere l’unica storia possibile da raccontare, lo capisce bene Sanders Roscoe, anche quando adolescente dice al padre John che gli racconta la prima parte della sua vita “ma non è giusto”. Non è giusto, ma è così, è stato così.
Stupisce, come scrivevo all’inizio, questo Haruf così ciarliero, e non credo di fargli un torto dicendo che forse alcuni passaggi avrebbero potuto essere semplificati, ma è anche l’occasione per ritrovare, ancora libero dal desiderio di ridurre all’essenziale la sua scrittura, a briglie sciolte, in questa storia illuminata ancora una volta dalla sua grazia e dalla sua gentilezza, da quella sensibilità che gli consente di raccontare anche avvenimenti crudi e duri, con una screziatura, questa volta, quasi noir, senza per questo apparire mai sgradevole, quella sottile vena di ironia che già si era affacciata qua e là anche nella Trilogia della Pianura, ma più evidente soprattutto nel suo ultimo romanzo: sembra quasi di vederlo sorridere sornione sotto ai baffi a volte, sembra quasi di sentirlo dire “Ora vi racconto una storia, mettetevi comodi. C’era una volta, in Colorado, un posto chiamato Holt…”: «uscirono da Denver, allontanandosi dalle montagne per tornare sugli altopiani: artemisia e yucca e gramigna ed erba del bisonte nei pascoli, grano e mais nei campi. Ai due lati della Statale c'erano piste sterrate che correvano sotto il cielo terso, dritte come le righe di un libro, con poche cittadine isolate sparse nella pianura sconfinata.»
Leggere Vincoli e associare alcuni pensieri a Disobedience (il film, il romanzo non l’ho letto, ma ho letto questo commento con alcune bellissime riflessioni che mi hanno invogliata a farlo), ai legami che incatenano a una vita che potrebbe essere altro, contrapposti al libero arbitrio e alla libertà di scegliere, all’inadeguatezza che a a volte ci fa combattere contro quello che abbiamo sempre desiderato, è stato quasi un esercizio automatico, un riflesso condizionato.
*(Sono sei, questo è il suo primo e seguirà nel 2019 la traduzione del secondo - Where You Once Belonged - che precedono entrambi la più nota Trilogia della Pianura e l’ultimo, Le nostre anime di notte, scritto prima della sua morte)
June 19, 2016
A worthy finish to my reading adventures with Haruf's six novels about rural life in Colorado. Here we get a vision of the tragic life of Edith as the daughter of a selfish, stubborn, and mean spirited farmer in the high and dry plains of eastern Colorado. It is told from the perspective of Roscoe, a neighbor friend who also grew up in this hardscrabble life of farming and whose father once loved the warm and tough Edith. But a terrible accident makes Edith's father forever dependent on her help, which became even more necessary when her beloved but mentally challenged brother makes an escape to travel the U.S., with only postcards to mark his existence over the decades. Roscoe, despite being reviled by Edith's father for being part Indian, finds a way to connect with Edith during the long passage of time, finding much courage in her steadfast sacrifice of her life for the "ties that bind". Now he has a chance to help her, which we learn at the beginning of the book has something to do with Edith in her 80s being a suspect in the suspicious death of her father. A dark tale for sure, but one that heralds the grace and bravery of certain folk who survived the tough realities of farming life on the Great Plains.
October 18, 2020
I loved this. It was Kent Haruf's very first novel, and I think his best. Oh why did he have to die?! He died on November 30, 2014 at the age of seventy-one.
"Colorado, January 1977. Eighty-year-old Edith Goodnough lies in a hospital bed, IV taped to the back of her hand, police officer at her door. She is charged with murder. The clues: a sack of chicken feed slit with a knife, a milky-eyed dog tied outdoors one cold afternoon." Really, you don't need to know anything else. These four sentences are the perfect introduction to this book. They are the first four sentences of the GR book description. Having read those lines, don’t you have to know how that sack of chicken feed and a milky-eyed dog can prove anything?
The story is told to us by Edith's neighbor, Sanders Roscoe. It is he that knows better than anyone else all that has happened, not merely the calamitous events of the preceding three and a half months but also the events of the years before. This is less a mystery story than a story about one woman's life.
All is explained clearly and simply. All is presented in chronological order. Dates are given. When a person is mentioned for the first time we are always told all that is important to know about that person. Sanders Roscoe wants us to understand and so he speaks clearly. And he speaks from his heart because that of which he is speaking is important and must be understood correctly. The tale itself is gripping; melodrama does not need to be added.
There are no literary tricks in the presentation. This is so utterly refreshing!
Real life is presented--the rigors of a farming life on the high plains of Colorado. It is the details of the life described that make the story ring true, be it the milking of cows in winter, a country fair or a meal for two served under an elm. Horrible things happen and good things too. The events as they unfold seem so real and so believable that you do not want to stop until you have heard every little detail. At the end, even when you pretty much know what is going to happen, you sit there transfixed.
There is humor. It is the humor that makes us laugh in ordinary life. We recognize thoughts we too have thought. We laugh at lines in dialogs that capture what people really do say to each other. No, not remarkable, sophisticated or particularly witty humor; instead the humor of everyday life.
I could not put this book down until I reached the very end. Captivating writing without fancy frills.
The audiobook is superbly narrated by Danny Campbell. He is sitting on a chair there next to you telling you what happened. The gruffness of his voice perfectly matches Sanders Roscoe. It is simple to follow and a delight to listen to.
*******************
The Tie That Binds 5 stars
Our Souls at Night 4 stars
Plainsong 4 stars
Eventide 4 stars
"Colorado, January 1977. Eighty-year-old Edith Goodnough lies in a hospital bed, IV taped to the back of her hand, police officer at her door. She is charged with murder. The clues: a sack of chicken feed slit with a knife, a milky-eyed dog tied outdoors one cold afternoon." Really, you don't need to know anything else. These four sentences are the perfect introduction to this book. They are the first four sentences of the GR book description. Having read those lines, don’t you have to know how that sack of chicken feed and a milky-eyed dog can prove anything?
The story is told to us by Edith's neighbor, Sanders Roscoe. It is he that knows better than anyone else all that has happened, not merely the calamitous events of the preceding three and a half months but also the events of the years before. This is less a mystery story than a story about one woman's life.
All is explained clearly and simply. All is presented in chronological order. Dates are given. When a person is mentioned for the first time we are always told all that is important to know about that person. Sanders Roscoe wants us to understand and so he speaks clearly. And he speaks from his heart because that of which he is speaking is important and must be understood correctly. The tale itself is gripping; melodrama does not need to be added.
There are no literary tricks in the presentation. This is so utterly refreshing!
Real life is presented--the rigors of a farming life on the high plains of Colorado. It is the details of the life described that make the story ring true, be it the milking of cows in winter, a country fair or a meal for two served under an elm. Horrible things happen and good things too. The events as they unfold seem so real and so believable that you do not want to stop until you have heard every little detail. At the end, even when you pretty much know what is going to happen, you sit there transfixed.
There is humor. It is the humor that makes us laugh in ordinary life. We recognize thoughts we too have thought. We laugh at lines in dialogs that capture what people really do say to each other. No, not remarkable, sophisticated or particularly witty humor; instead the humor of everyday life.
I could not put this book down until I reached the very end. Captivating writing without fancy frills.
The audiobook is superbly narrated by Danny Campbell. He is sitting on a chair there next to you telling you what happened. The gruffness of his voice perfectly matches Sanders Roscoe. It is simple to follow and a delight to listen to.
*******************
The Tie That Binds 5 stars
Our Souls at Night 4 stars
Plainsong 4 stars
Eventide 4 stars
July 12, 2020
Il mio primo Haruf, non l’avrei letto se non fosse stato per la spinta ricevuta da un commento dell’amica @Piperitapitta. Grazie di avermi fatto scoprire un grande narratore.
Il titolo si comprende subito: la storia di Edith e Lyman Goodnough, due fratelli nati alla fine dell’ottocento nella campagna arida della cittadina agricola di Holt in Colorado, è una amara storia di vincoli, fisici e soprattutto morali. Vincoli a un padre padrone malvagio e crudele, vincoli a una vita di duro lavoro nei campi sempre uguale ogni stagione ed ogni giorno, vincoli a rapporti di sangue, a legami familiari che soffocano e fanno male all’anima: Lyman, il più debole, non ce la fa a sopportarli, Edith invece è un esempio di resilienza, è la più provata, quella che sopporta non solo violenze fisiche ma dolori del cuore che potrebbero inaridire l’animo. Invece Edith è dolce e sensibile, Edith è forte, per sé e per suo fratello, e Sanders Roscoe, colui che narra la storia della famiglia Goodnough, lo ha compreso. E la rispetta, la ammira, la ama, come il lettore, che vorrebbe abbracciarla.
Ma “niente in questa faccenda è giusto. La vita non lo è. E tutti i nostri pensieri su come dovrebbe essere non servono a un cavolo, a quanto pare.”
È una lettura appassionante ed emozionante, un romanzo dolce e delicato ma anche crudo e crudele. Come l’esistenza degli agricoltori di Holt. Come la vita di Edith Goodnough. Come la nostra vita.
Il titolo si comprende subito: la storia di Edith e Lyman Goodnough, due fratelli nati alla fine dell’ottocento nella campagna arida della cittadina agricola di Holt in Colorado, è una amara storia di vincoli, fisici e soprattutto morali. Vincoli a un padre padrone malvagio e crudele, vincoli a una vita di duro lavoro nei campi sempre uguale ogni stagione ed ogni giorno, vincoli a rapporti di sangue, a legami familiari che soffocano e fanno male all’anima: Lyman, il più debole, non ce la fa a sopportarli, Edith invece è un esempio di resilienza, è la più provata, quella che sopporta non solo violenze fisiche ma dolori del cuore che potrebbero inaridire l’animo. Invece Edith è dolce e sensibile, Edith è forte, per sé e per suo fratello, e Sanders Roscoe, colui che narra la storia della famiglia Goodnough, lo ha compreso. E la rispetta, la ammira, la ama, come il lettore, che vorrebbe abbracciarla.
Ma “niente in questa faccenda è giusto. La vita non lo è. E tutti i nostri pensieri su come dovrebbe essere non servono a un cavolo, a quanto pare.”
È una lettura appassionante ed emozionante, un romanzo dolce e delicato ma anche crudo e crudele. Come l’esistenza degli agricoltori di Holt. Come la vita di Edith Goodnough. Come la nostra vita.
September 22, 2017
4,5*
Viața îți oferă de-a lungul ei multe surprize, fără a tine cont de vârsta sau de restul lumii.
Recenzia mea completă o găsiți aici:
https://www.delicateseliterare.ro/suf...
Viața îți oferă de-a lungul ei multe surprize, fără a tine cont de vârsta sau de restul lumii.
Recenzia mea completă o găsiți aici:
https://www.delicateseliterare.ro/suf...
February 18, 2021
4.5 stars, rounded down.
Kent Haruf wrote quiet novels. Nothing spectacular happens to his characters, but life happens to them, just as it does to us all, and it happens to them with so much reality that it is both shocking and recognizable. The title of his first novel, The Tie That Binds, evokes images of love and loyalty and family bonding, but what he delivers is a reminder that bindings are restraints and homes can be prisons. Edith Goodnough finds herself bound to a family and a hard farm that drain her, steal her life, and demand what must seem like too much sacrifice to anyone who has escaped her fate. She is beautifully strong and resilient; she finds her joys where she can find them, where, perhaps, few of us would be able to find them, in similar circumstances.
The story is told by Edith’s neighbor, Sanders Roscoe, a much younger man whose life has been entwined to hers by a father who knew her from her birth. Edith’s story is more poignant coming from Sanders, because he can tell it with sympathy and understanding, while a first person Edith would never allow herself either the pity or the explanation. When we meet her, she is an 80 year old woman, lying in a hospital bed, with an accusation of murder hanging over her head.
As I read The Tie That Binds, I kept thinking of the immortal words of John Donne--”No man is an island, entire of itself.” So true, even for Edith, and yet so much of life can be led from inside, in isolation, in agony. Edith Goodnough lives such a life. So, Haruf has managed what is almost impossible. He has shown us how tightly we are linked to the other people in our lives and, at the same time, shown us how disconnected an individual can be from everyone around them.
While I would still rank Plainsong as Haruf’s masterpiece, few authors begin their careers with something as powerful as this novel. Few men understand the dynamics of farm life in close-knit but wide-spread communities in the early 20th Century so well. Few authors know how to plumb the depths of the human experience in a simple tale of a simple life, a Haruf does.
Kent Haruf wrote quiet novels. Nothing spectacular happens to his characters, but life happens to them, just as it does to us all, and it happens to them with so much reality that it is both shocking and recognizable. The title of his first novel, The Tie That Binds, evokes images of love and loyalty and family bonding, but what he delivers is a reminder that bindings are restraints and homes can be prisons. Edith Goodnough finds herself bound to a family and a hard farm that drain her, steal her life, and demand what must seem like too much sacrifice to anyone who has escaped her fate. She is beautifully strong and resilient; she finds her joys where she can find them, where, perhaps, few of us would be able to find them, in similar circumstances.
The story is told by Edith’s neighbor, Sanders Roscoe, a much younger man whose life has been entwined to hers by a father who knew her from her birth. Edith’s story is more poignant coming from Sanders, because he can tell it with sympathy and understanding, while a first person Edith would never allow herself either the pity or the explanation. When we meet her, she is an 80 year old woman, lying in a hospital bed, with an accusation of murder hanging over her head.
As I read The Tie That Binds, I kept thinking of the immortal words of John Donne--”No man is an island, entire of itself.” So true, even for Edith, and yet so much of life can be led from inside, in isolation, in agony. Edith Goodnough lives such a life. So, Haruf has managed what is almost impossible. He has shown us how tightly we are linked to the other people in our lives and, at the same time, shown us how disconnected an individual can be from everyone around them.
While I would still rank Plainsong as Haruf’s masterpiece, few authors begin their careers with something as powerful as this novel. Few men understand the dynamics of farm life in close-knit but wide-spread communities in the early 20th Century so well. Few authors know how to plumb the depths of the human experience in a simple tale of a simple life, a Haruf does.
May 22, 2018
The ties of family are bound by blood. Responsibility, taking up the slack, doing what is necessary to keep things going regardless of the toll it exacts. It all comes through here in Holt, Colorado. This type of richness achieved with such simplicity was Haruf's own special talent.
January 9, 2017
Kent Haruf is high on my list of favorite authors and 'The Tie That Binds' is the fourth of his novels that I have read. Each time I lose myself in one of Mr. Haruf's novels, I struggle to express just what it is about his novels that never fails to so deeply move me. The novels, which take place in fictional Holt on the eastern plains of Colorado, demonstrate the bleakness of that barren land. Yet somehow, through Mr. Haruf's spare and poetic language, I can still see the beauty HE finds in that harsh landscape. But I think what appeals to me most about Kent Haruf's novels is the richness of his characters.
The title of this book, I think, is particularly significant and has left me pondering the meaning of the words 'duty' and 'devotion'. What exactly IS our duty to the people which make up our families? And what quality is it that certain people have which compels them to take on the responsibility of duty and devotion to such an extent that they seem willing to sacrifice their OWN lives and potential for self-fulfillment, without regret and bitterness?
The story begins at the hospital bedside of 80 year-old Edith Goodnough. Although this is the story of the Goodnough family (Edith in particular), Edith is NOT the narrator of her story. The story is told by neighbor, Sanders Roscoe. Sanders is the middle-aged son of John Roscoe, a man who had played an important role in Edith Goodnough's life. From the first page, Sanders makes clear that Edith, in the hospital after a tragic fire at her family's farm, has been charged with murder. Who was Edith accused of murdering? Well. you'll have to read the book to discover that. But to understand how this 80 year-old woman came to be in a hospital bed guarded by a police officer, you need to gain an understanding of the Goodnough family history… and this is where Sanders Roscoe begins the story. Edith Goodnough was the first born child of Roy and Ada Goodnough, who migrated west to Holt, Colorado from Cedar County, Iowa in 1896. I'm not sure what Roy and Ada were expecting of their new life in the eastern plains of Colorado, but life was extremely hard.. the kind of hard life that can crush the spirit. Ada was never a hearty woman with a strong constitution so the life which she discovered in Holt was especially difficult for her. She gave birth to two children… Edith and Lyman.. and with each passing year, Ada seemed to disappear a little more. As Sanders Roscoe described… " So in the family album, while Edith and Lyman are growing up, their mother, Ada, seems to be sinking down. In one picture after another, she looks smaller, shorter, thinner. Her cheeks suck into bone, her thin brown hair turns to sparse gray…. By 1913,in what must be the last picture taken of her… Ada looks like she might be her husband's mother…." Finally, Ada passed away in 1914, leaving behind her barely adolescent aged son and daughter… leaving them behind with their father Roy, a harsh,tyrannical man who seemed to regard his wife and children as merely chattel, certainly NEVER cherished members of his family.
The death of a mother is a traumatic event for any child but for Edith and Lyman it was probably the event that defined the rest of their lives. This was particularly true for Edith. She was quickly thrust into her mother's position in the family, needing to take on her mother's responsibilities AND trying to protect Lyman as much as she could from Roy's wrath. There was no more education for Edith… her days were filled with backbreaking chores and responsibilities. The years went by and despite her hardships, Edith also possessed a cherished dream or two. She had fallen in love with John Roscoe, a young man from a neighboring farm; and for the first time in her life, she began to dream of a future… one that belonged solely to her.
Dreams are what give people hope.. dreams perhaps of a future much different from the life they are currently experiencing. Dreams give meaning and they are what allow people to carry on through tremendous adversity. Edith's dreams were what gave HER hope…. that is until the day of a horrific accident on the farm. It turned out to be an accident that seemed only to remind Edith of her duty and obligations to her father and brother and their farm. Edith told herself that her dream of marrying John Roscoe had simply been just that.. a dream. It wouldn't have worked out anyway because Lyman truly NEEDED her.. she was the only buffer standing between Lyman and her father's anger and harsh cruelty.
With her dreams deferred, Edith settled into the life she had always known, helping with the farm and caring for Lyman and Roy. John Roscoe went on to marry another woman and had a son; and finally, Lyman was able to work up his courage and he escaped from his father and the crushing hardship of farm work. Edith… well, she was left alone with Roy and she waited… and waited, only looking forward to the picture postcards which Lyman sent to her to announce his travels across the country in his new Pontiac. Edith lived vicariously through Lyman and his travels and still she waited. As Sanders again described.. "… Edith Goodnough stayed home. And if you figure it up; if you do your arithmetic from those chiseled dates in the cemetery, then you know that Edith was seventeen when her mother died in 1914; she was fifty-five when the old man died; and she was sixty-four when Lyman finally returned. It amounts to a lifetime of staying home."
With Roy dead and Lyman back on the farm, you're probably wondering if Edith finally had the opportunity to create a life of her own… one which didn't include suffocating responsibilities. Well NO.. no she did NOT. Fate seemed particularly cruel to Edith Goodnough. But the amazing thing about this story and this character is that I could never really think of Edith as a tragic figure. Her life appeared grueling and confining but she was never a woman who gave in to self-pity. I can't say she seemed particularly happy; but she did possess a quality, which maybe in her difficult life was more important. She carried about her an air of if not contentment, then certainly one of acceptance. Her life was simply HER life.. it was the life that was given to her and she didn't seem to spend any time railing against it or questioning it.
I can't say that Edith's story ends well but what you WILL see is that, in the end, Edith made a choice that ultimately loosens the ties that have bound her for her entire life. Whichever way things go, Edith will finally be free. It seems to me that those 'ties that bind' can be constructed of love, loyalty and devotion which LOOSELY keep us connected to family; or they can be constructed of steel, which end up crushing us.. crushing our spirits. It was fascinating to see just which outcome Edith ultimately chose.
The title of this book, I think, is particularly significant and has left me pondering the meaning of the words 'duty' and 'devotion'. What exactly IS our duty to the people which make up our families? And what quality is it that certain people have which compels them to take on the responsibility of duty and devotion to such an extent that they seem willing to sacrifice their OWN lives and potential for self-fulfillment, without regret and bitterness?
The story begins at the hospital bedside of 80 year-old Edith Goodnough. Although this is the story of the Goodnough family (Edith in particular), Edith is NOT the narrator of her story. The story is told by neighbor, Sanders Roscoe. Sanders is the middle-aged son of John Roscoe, a man who had played an important role in Edith Goodnough's life. From the first page, Sanders makes clear that Edith, in the hospital after a tragic fire at her family's farm, has been charged with murder. Who was Edith accused of murdering? Well. you'll have to read the book to discover that. But to understand how this 80 year-old woman came to be in a hospital bed guarded by a police officer, you need to gain an understanding of the Goodnough family history… and this is where Sanders Roscoe begins the story. Edith Goodnough was the first born child of Roy and Ada Goodnough, who migrated west to Holt, Colorado from Cedar County, Iowa in 1896. I'm not sure what Roy and Ada were expecting of their new life in the eastern plains of Colorado, but life was extremely hard.. the kind of hard life that can crush the spirit. Ada was never a hearty woman with a strong constitution so the life which she discovered in Holt was especially difficult for her. She gave birth to two children… Edith and Lyman.. and with each passing year, Ada seemed to disappear a little more. As Sanders Roscoe described… " So in the family album, while Edith and Lyman are growing up, their mother, Ada, seems to be sinking down. In one picture after another, she looks smaller, shorter, thinner. Her cheeks suck into bone, her thin brown hair turns to sparse gray…. By 1913,in what must be the last picture taken of her… Ada looks like she might be her husband's mother…." Finally, Ada passed away in 1914, leaving behind her barely adolescent aged son and daughter… leaving them behind with their father Roy, a harsh,tyrannical man who seemed to regard his wife and children as merely chattel, certainly NEVER cherished members of his family.
The death of a mother is a traumatic event for any child but for Edith and Lyman it was probably the event that defined the rest of their lives. This was particularly true for Edith. She was quickly thrust into her mother's position in the family, needing to take on her mother's responsibilities AND trying to protect Lyman as much as she could from Roy's wrath. There was no more education for Edith… her days were filled with backbreaking chores and responsibilities. The years went by and despite her hardships, Edith also possessed a cherished dream or two. She had fallen in love with John Roscoe, a young man from a neighboring farm; and for the first time in her life, she began to dream of a future… one that belonged solely to her.
Dreams are what give people hope.. dreams perhaps of a future much different from the life they are currently experiencing. Dreams give meaning and they are what allow people to carry on through tremendous adversity. Edith's dreams were what gave HER hope…. that is until the day of a horrific accident on the farm. It turned out to be an accident that seemed only to remind Edith of her duty and obligations to her father and brother and their farm. Edith told herself that her dream of marrying John Roscoe had simply been just that.. a dream. It wouldn't have worked out anyway because Lyman truly NEEDED her.. she was the only buffer standing between Lyman and her father's anger and harsh cruelty.
With her dreams deferred, Edith settled into the life she had always known, helping with the farm and caring for Lyman and Roy. John Roscoe went on to marry another woman and had a son; and finally, Lyman was able to work up his courage and he escaped from his father and the crushing hardship of farm work. Edith… well, she was left alone with Roy and she waited… and waited, only looking forward to the picture postcards which Lyman sent to her to announce his travels across the country in his new Pontiac. Edith lived vicariously through Lyman and his travels and still she waited. As Sanders again described.. "… Edith Goodnough stayed home. And if you figure it up; if you do your arithmetic from those chiseled dates in the cemetery, then you know that Edith was seventeen when her mother died in 1914; she was fifty-five when the old man died; and she was sixty-four when Lyman finally returned. It amounts to a lifetime of staying home."
With Roy dead and Lyman back on the farm, you're probably wondering if Edith finally had the opportunity to create a life of her own… one which didn't include suffocating responsibilities. Well NO.. no she did NOT. Fate seemed particularly cruel to Edith Goodnough. But the amazing thing about this story and this character is that I could never really think of Edith as a tragic figure. Her life appeared grueling and confining but she was never a woman who gave in to self-pity. I can't say she seemed particularly happy; but she did possess a quality, which maybe in her difficult life was more important. She carried about her an air of if not contentment, then certainly one of acceptance. Her life was simply HER life.. it was the life that was given to her and she didn't seem to spend any time railing against it or questioning it.
I can't say that Edith's story ends well but what you WILL see is that, in the end, Edith made a choice that ultimately loosens the ties that have bound her for her entire life. Whichever way things go, Edith will finally be free. It seems to me that those 'ties that bind' can be constructed of love, loyalty and devotion which LOOSELY keep us connected to family; or they can be constructed of steel, which end up crushing us.. crushing our spirits. It was fascinating to see just which outcome Edith ultimately chose.
December 30, 2016
The "tie that binds" has connotations that are positive. Family. Love. Support. Loyalty. Acceptance. Rest. It speaks to me of life-affirming bonds that bring gladness of heart and sustenance through good and bad times. These were the expectations I entertained from the book title, and I could not be more sorely mistaken. Alas, “blest be the ties that bind” is not always true.
In this novel set in Holt, Colorado, Kent Haruf offers an additional dimension that is unsettling. The tie that binds is overwhelmingly irresistible in its power to enslave, stifle, cripple, and destroy. A sense of duty, while an honorable quality, can rob a long-suffering family member of his or her own life because s/he lives in subservience to those with whom that life is bound. It is a story told in Haruf’s inimitable style that reflects an honest and empathic understanding of the myriad shades of motivation that fuel human interactions. The tragedy of this story is about the ties that cannot be broken. The story is predominantly sad but there are lighter moments when the clouds lift and laughter is savored for its rarity.
In Haruf’s conception of life in Holt, Colorado, not just in this novel but also in “Plainsong” and “Eventide”, the tie that binds and matters is typically not familial. It is often forged among neighborly folks and friends who care about each other, who become family and are there, come hell or high water. “The Tie That Binds” once again celebrates the sure shelter of a good friendship - “One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” (Proverbs 18:24)
Published in 1984, “The Tie That Binds” received a Whiting Foundation Award and a special citation from the PEN/Hemingway Foundation. It is almost New Year’s Eve and I cannot think of another writer with whom I wish to end my reading year in 2016.
In this novel set in Holt, Colorado, Kent Haruf offers an additional dimension that is unsettling. The tie that binds is overwhelmingly irresistible in its power to enslave, stifle, cripple, and destroy. A sense of duty, while an honorable quality, can rob a long-suffering family member of his or her own life because s/he lives in subservience to those with whom that life is bound. It is a story told in Haruf’s inimitable style that reflects an honest and empathic understanding of the myriad shades of motivation that fuel human interactions. The tragedy of this story is about the ties that cannot be broken. The story is predominantly sad but there are lighter moments when the clouds lift and laughter is savored for its rarity.
In Haruf’s conception of life in Holt, Colorado, not just in this novel but also in “Plainsong” and “Eventide”, the tie that binds and matters is typically not familial. It is often forged among neighborly folks and friends who care about each other, who become family and are there, come hell or high water. “The Tie That Binds” once again celebrates the sure shelter of a good friendship - “One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” (Proverbs 18:24)
Published in 1984, “The Tie That Binds” received a Whiting Foundation Award and a special citation from the PEN/Hemingway Foundation. It is almost New Year’s Eve and I cannot think of another writer with whom I wish to end my reading year in 2016.
July 7, 2015
He can sure write old folks. And younger folks, and flinty ones that don’t do so good, weak ones that wish they could, bitter ones that are helpless to be anything else.
This is just the way it is. Here is life.
He illuminates grace in hidden corners.
This is just the way it is. Here is life.
He illuminates grace in hidden corners.
December 14, 2023
Kent Haruf hat sechs Romane geschrieben. Alle spielen in der fiktiven amerikanischen Kleinstadt Holt in Colorado. Alle stellen einfache Menschen in den Mittelpunkt. Die Menschen kämpfen um ein kleines, bisschen Hoffnung. Das überträgt sich beim Lesen. So kommen einem auch unscheinbar wirkende Charaktere ganz nahe. "Das Band, das uns hält", das in Deutschland als Band 6 beworben wird, ist tatsächlich der erste Band, der im Original 1984 erschienen ist.
Die Reihenfolge der Holt-Bücher ist wie folgt:
1. Das Band, das uns hält (im Original: 1984 / deutsch: 2023) ****
2. Ein Sohn der Stadt (1990 / 2021) ****
3. Lied der Weite (1999 / 2018) *****
4. Abendrot (2004 / 2019) *****
5. Kostbare Tage (2013 / 2020) *****
6. Unsere Seelen bei Nacht (2015 /2017) *****
Sprich im Deutschen kam zunächst der letzte Band, dann Band drei bis fünf, dann Band 2, und zuletzt Band 1 heraus. Ich verwende die Nummerierung der oben aufgeführten Originalsequenz.
Band 1 und 2 sind die "schwächsten" Romane der Reihe. Dabei sind beide immer noch sehr gut. Andere Autoren würden sich wünschen, solche Werke hervorzubringen. Band 6 ist das erste Buch von Haruf, das ich gelesen habe. Es ist auch mein persönlicher Favorit. Band 3 und 4 sollten nacheinander gelesen werden. Bei den anderen Bänden, muss man nicht notwendigerweise chronologisch lesen.
Nun zu "Das Band, das uns hält": Es ist die Geschichte der Familie Goodnough. Der Vater Roy ist ein herzloser Mensch, der es hasst, andere Menschen um Hilfe zu bitten. Er tyrannisiert seine Frau und seine Kinder Lyman und Edith. Der erste Band ist eine Einführung in die Geschichte der Kleinstadt Holt. Der Auslöser spielt zwar im Jahr 1977. Da ist die "kleine" Edith aber bereits 80 Jahre alt. Es geht bis in das Jahr 1896 zurück, in dem Roy und seine Frau Ada sich in der Nähe von Holt niederlassen. Wie in den anderen Bänden ist die Welt, die beschrieben wird, hart und oft grausam. Die Kunst Harufs ist es, den Menschen in seinen Geschichten mit großer Würde zu begegnen. Trotz der Welt, in der sie leben, verlieren sie nicht ihre Hoffnung und nicht ihre Menschlichkeit. In seinem ersten Roman ist diese Qualität noch nicht so ausgeprägt. Die Trostlosigkeit dieser entbehrungsreichen Leben ist recht dominant. Ab Band 3 hat Kent Haruf diesbezüglich die perfekte Balance gefunden. Die sechs Holt-Romane sind literarisch spannend und berührend zugleich. Ich wünsche mir vom Diogenes-Verlag eine Kassette mit allen Romanen in der richtigen Reihenfolge.
Die Reihenfolge der Holt-Bücher ist wie folgt:
1. Das Band, das uns hält (im Original: 1984 / deutsch: 2023) ****
2. Ein Sohn der Stadt (1990 / 2021) ****
3. Lied der Weite (1999 / 2018) *****
4. Abendrot (2004 / 2019) *****
5. Kostbare Tage (2013 / 2020) *****
6. Unsere Seelen bei Nacht (2015 /2017) *****
Sprich im Deutschen kam zunächst der letzte Band, dann Band drei bis fünf, dann Band 2, und zuletzt Band 1 heraus. Ich verwende die Nummerierung der oben aufgeführten Originalsequenz.
Band 1 und 2 sind die "schwächsten" Romane der Reihe. Dabei sind beide immer noch sehr gut. Andere Autoren würden sich wünschen, solche Werke hervorzubringen. Band 6 ist das erste Buch von Haruf, das ich gelesen habe. Es ist auch mein persönlicher Favorit. Band 3 und 4 sollten nacheinander gelesen werden. Bei den anderen Bänden, muss man nicht notwendigerweise chronologisch lesen.
Nun zu "Das Band, das uns hält": Es ist die Geschichte der Familie Goodnough. Der Vater Roy ist ein herzloser Mensch, der es hasst, andere Menschen um Hilfe zu bitten. Er tyrannisiert seine Frau und seine Kinder Lyman und Edith. Der erste Band ist eine Einführung in die Geschichte der Kleinstadt Holt. Der Auslöser spielt zwar im Jahr 1977. Da ist die "kleine" Edith aber bereits 80 Jahre alt. Es geht bis in das Jahr 1896 zurück, in dem Roy und seine Frau Ada sich in der Nähe von Holt niederlassen. Wie in den anderen Bänden ist die Welt, die beschrieben wird, hart und oft grausam. Die Kunst Harufs ist es, den Menschen in seinen Geschichten mit großer Würde zu begegnen. Trotz der Welt, in der sie leben, verlieren sie nicht ihre Hoffnung und nicht ihre Menschlichkeit. In seinem ersten Roman ist diese Qualität noch nicht so ausgeprägt. Die Trostlosigkeit dieser entbehrungsreichen Leben ist recht dominant. Ab Band 3 hat Kent Haruf diesbezüglich die perfekte Balance gefunden. Die sechs Holt-Romane sind literarisch spannend und berührend zugleich. Ich wünsche mir vom Diogenes-Verlag eine Kassette mit allen Romanen in der richtigen Reihenfolge.
April 1, 2014
Many famous writers dance around you when you crack the cover of a Kent Haruf novel, but I don't mean to suggest that he's not his own man, his own writer. It's just obvious that he has a high literary aptitude coupled with a unique talent to tell a story, and tell it well.
I have, in an earlier review, compared his style to that of John Steinbeck and Carson McCullers, respectively. But, here in his debut novel, I also felt the force of other great influences: Edith Wharton, Willa Cather, and Wallace Stegner, to name a few.
I feel cheered by his ability to write in such a classic, yet modern way, and it fills me with hope to find that the best writers are not, indeed, all cold in the ground.
I still suggest his novel, Eventide, as his best work, but this was a great and perfectly readable first novel.
I have, in an earlier review, compared his style to that of John Steinbeck and Carson McCullers, respectively. But, here in his debut novel, I also felt the force of other great influences: Edith Wharton, Willa Cather, and Wallace Stegner, to name a few.
I feel cheered by his ability to write in such a classic, yet modern way, and it fills me with hope to find that the best writers are not, indeed, all cold in the ground.
I still suggest his novel, Eventide, as his best work, but this was a great and perfectly readable first novel.
July 19, 2017
If it is possible to write a gloriously entertaining story about the agony of being stuck, including horrible physical violence, Haruf did it.
It starts as a funny tall tale, and keeps that flavor and structure, but oh how real it becomes!
Mr. Haruf, wherever you are in the afterlife ether, I hope you can see me giving you a standing ovation and hear me cheering my damned head off.
It starts as a funny tall tale, and keeps that flavor and structure, but oh how real it becomes!
Mr. Haruf, wherever you are in the afterlife ether, I hope you can see me giving you a standing ovation and hear me cheering my damned head off.
February 24, 2022
"La maggior parte di quello che sto per dirti, lo so per certo. Il resto, lo immagino."
La voce che ti parla, lettore, è quella di Sanders Roscoe, figlio ormai cinquantenne di John Roscoe, un mezzosangue abbandonato dal padre bianco, vissuto con la madre in una sperduta fattoria di Holt e vicino di casa dei Goodnough. Vicino si fa per dire. La campagna a Holt è una distesa ampia e vuota; viverci è farsi largo intorno, isolarsi, comunicare col sole e con la polvere. Il vicino più prossimo, in effetti, dista un chilometro almeno.
Ma qui si tratta di Edith, è di lei che Sanders vuole parlare.
L'ormai ottantenne Edith Goodnough (pronuncia Gudnou) giace in un letto d'ospedale piantonata da una guardia e in attesa di processo. Ma perché? Che cosa le è accaduto? Che cosa ha commesso di così grave la quieta, mite, laboriosa Edith?
Per saperlo, lettore, dovrai tornare indietro nel tempo, quando, a fine Ottocento, la terra promessa dal governo americano ai nuovi disgraziati pionieri del Midwest era una zolla polverosa di terra ostile, una distesa di sabbia arida da trasformare in pane col sudore della fronte, le imprecazioni, la tenacia dei sopravvissuti.
E parlando di Edith, Sanders ti racconterà di Roy Goodnough, uomo crudele e duro, che trascina la docile moglie Ada nella pianura infausta e là si costruisce una casa, là alleva gli animali, là costringe la terra a obbedirgli, con ogni mezzo e a ogni costo. Ma l'unico modo conosciuto da Roy è la violenza, intrisa di determinazione e di rabbia, di puntiglio e bisogno di riscatto. A quella terra, a quella casa nel deserto, a quella rabbia, Roy terrà legata tutta la famiglia, la moglie, e i soprattutto figli Edith e Lyman. Legati per la vita a lui e ai suoi mostruosi moncherini.
Roscoe ti racconterà di sua madre che fu l'unica presenza amica per Ada, che l'aiutò a partorire i suoi figli, la sostenne nella consumazione di un dolore profondo e inespresso, fu vigile e presente nel silenzio dell'arida pianura. Ti racconterà di suo padre John Roscoe, del suo amore per Edith, del suo matrimonio con un'altra, del suo rimpianto sommesso e costante. Ma soprattutto parlerà di se stesso, di come diventò per Edith la sola compagnia, di come poi la sua vita incontrò il dolore più grande.
E tutto questo dentro una cornice di pochi eventi, pochi personaggi, pochi svaghi e tanto lavoro.
La descrizione della fiera di Holt è uno dei pezzi di bravura di questo libro, così denso e pieno, come mai Haruf è stato nella successiva trilogia. Ne abbiamo una visione talmente calda e precisa che sembra di stare accoccolati nella poltrona di un cinema multisala. E allo stesso tempo, mentre gli eventi scorrono verso il loro inevitabile punto di spannung, ci perdiamo tra il fiato degli animali in mostra, tra i passi degli stivali cowboy, tra le voci mescolate a strilli e a risa.
Haruf scrive la sua prima opera ed è già un capolavoro.
La voce che ti parla, lettore, è quella di Sanders Roscoe, figlio ormai cinquantenne di John Roscoe, un mezzosangue abbandonato dal padre bianco, vissuto con la madre in una sperduta fattoria di Holt e vicino di casa dei Goodnough. Vicino si fa per dire. La campagna a Holt è una distesa ampia e vuota; viverci è farsi largo intorno, isolarsi, comunicare col sole e con la polvere. Il vicino più prossimo, in effetti, dista un chilometro almeno.
Ma qui si tratta di Edith, è di lei che Sanders vuole parlare.
L'ormai ottantenne Edith Goodnough (pronuncia Gudnou) giace in un letto d'ospedale piantonata da una guardia e in attesa di processo. Ma perché? Che cosa le è accaduto? Che cosa ha commesso di così grave la quieta, mite, laboriosa Edith?
Per saperlo, lettore, dovrai tornare indietro nel tempo, quando, a fine Ottocento, la terra promessa dal governo americano ai nuovi disgraziati pionieri del Midwest era una zolla polverosa di terra ostile, una distesa di sabbia arida da trasformare in pane col sudore della fronte, le imprecazioni, la tenacia dei sopravvissuti.
E parlando di Edith, Sanders ti racconterà di Roy Goodnough, uomo crudele e duro, che trascina la docile moglie Ada nella pianura infausta e là si costruisce una casa, là alleva gli animali, là costringe la terra a obbedirgli, con ogni mezzo e a ogni costo. Ma l'unico modo conosciuto da Roy è la violenza, intrisa di determinazione e di rabbia, di puntiglio e bisogno di riscatto. A quella terra, a quella casa nel deserto, a quella rabbia, Roy terrà legata tutta la famiglia, la moglie, e i soprattutto figli Edith e Lyman. Legati per la vita a lui e ai suoi mostruosi moncherini.
Roscoe ti racconterà di sua madre che fu l'unica presenza amica per Ada, che l'aiutò a partorire i suoi figli, la sostenne nella consumazione di un dolore profondo e inespresso, fu vigile e presente nel silenzio dell'arida pianura. Ti racconterà di suo padre John Roscoe, del suo amore per Edith, del suo matrimonio con un'altra, del suo rimpianto sommesso e costante. Ma soprattutto parlerà di se stesso, di come diventò per Edith la sola compagnia, di come poi la sua vita incontrò il dolore più grande.
E tutto questo dentro una cornice di pochi eventi, pochi personaggi, pochi svaghi e tanto lavoro.
La descrizione della fiera di Holt è uno dei pezzi di bravura di questo libro, così denso e pieno, come mai Haruf è stato nella successiva trilogia. Ne abbiamo una visione talmente calda e precisa che sembra di stare accoccolati nella poltrona di un cinema multisala. E allo stesso tempo, mentre gli eventi scorrono verso il loro inevitabile punto di spannung, ci perdiamo tra il fiato degli animali in mostra, tra i passi degli stivali cowboy, tra le voci mescolate a strilli e a risa.
Haruf scrive la sua prima opera ed è già un capolavoro.
February 1, 2022
- Vecchia Holt -
Gran bella lettura, il primo romanzo di Haruf.
L'Io-narrante, figlio di uno dei protagonisti di quest'opera, 'scrive' nel 1977, ma la vicenda narrata ha inizio più di 80 anni prima. L'ambientazione è a Holt, nel Colorado, che verso la fine '800 era solo poco più di un villaggio con alcuni negozi.
Per ragioni di contestualizzazione, si ricorda che nel lontano 1962 Lincoln promulgò una norma per cui su richiesta venivano assegnati terreni demaniali nelle zone selvagge al di là delle 13 colonie d'origine, dietro impegno di coltivarle, cosa che di fatto rendeva proprietari coloro che accettavano tale clausola.
Così, sul finire del secolo XIX, una giovane coppia giunse per stabilirsi nei dintorni di Holt.
Di qui inizia la storia di questa famiglia e di quella residente nella casa più prossima.
Grandi protagonisti sono soprattutto i figli.
Tra qursti spicca l'indimenticabile Edith, creatura incantevole e generosa fino all'abnegazione. Era "bella come più non avrebbe potuto". Con lei potevi parlare con profondità, potevi "dirle tutte quelle cose che non avevi mai detto a nessuno, tutte quelle cose che stanno oltre le battute e gli aspetti superficiali che gli altri vedono di te".
Qui troviamo Haruf già al meglio. Edith, per me, poi rimane una delle figure femminili più toccanti della letteratura americana contemporanea.
Gran bella lettura, il primo romanzo di Haruf.
L'Io-narrante, figlio di uno dei protagonisti di quest'opera, 'scrive' nel 1977, ma la vicenda narrata ha inizio più di 80 anni prima. L'ambientazione è a Holt, nel Colorado, che verso la fine '800 era solo poco più di un villaggio con alcuni negozi.
Per ragioni di contestualizzazione, si ricorda che nel lontano 1962 Lincoln promulgò una norma per cui su richiesta venivano assegnati terreni demaniali nelle zone selvagge al di là delle 13 colonie d'origine, dietro impegno di coltivarle, cosa che di fatto rendeva proprietari coloro che accettavano tale clausola.
Così, sul finire del secolo XIX, una giovane coppia giunse per stabilirsi nei dintorni di Holt.
Di qui inizia la storia di questa famiglia e di quella residente nella casa più prossima.
Grandi protagonisti sono soprattutto i figli.
Tra qursti spicca l'indimenticabile Edith, creatura incantevole e generosa fino all'abnegazione. Era "bella come più non avrebbe potuto". Con lei potevi parlare con profondità, potevi "dirle tutte quelle cose che non avevi mai detto a nessuno, tutte quelle cose che stanno oltre le battute e gli aspetti superficiali che gli altri vedono di te".
Qui troviamo Haruf già al meglio. Edith, per me, poi rimane una delle figure femminili più toccanti della letteratura americana contemporanea.
February 20, 2022
In "The Tie That Binds," Edith Goodnough is bound for a life of sacrifice by family ties and a sense of duty. She and her brother never had a childhood on their Colorado farm after her mother died young. Her father, disabled after a horrific accident, emotionally abused his children and regarded them as no more than laborers. Edith was resilient, taking care of the two men and working on the farm for her whole life. She gave up the man who loved her for a life of sacrifice and obligation.
Edith's story is told by her neighbor and surrogate son, Sanders Roscoe. Sanders treats Edith and her brother like valued friends and extended family. There is a sense of neighborly warmth in the farming town where the farmers scratch out a living in the sandy soil. "The Tie That Binds" is Kent Haruf's first novel, a wonderful start to a group of well-written books set in the harsh environment of the high plains of eastern Colorado.
Edith's story is told by her neighbor and surrogate son, Sanders Roscoe. Sanders treats Edith and her brother like valued friends and extended family. There is a sense of neighborly warmth in the farming town where the farmers scratch out a living in the sandy soil. "The Tie That Binds" is Kent Haruf's first novel, a wonderful start to a group of well-written books set in the harsh environment of the high plains of eastern Colorado.
May 31, 2021
Quin llibre, tu. Em sembla increïble que sigui una primera novel·la. Es diferencia de la trilogia perquè aquí es centra sobretot en una sola història (que en el fons són moltes, però ja m'enteneu). M'ha recordat en alguns moments a East of Eden de Steinbeck, perquè parla de més d'una generació d'una(s) família(s).
Haruf domina la narració com pocs. Els personatges, els temps, les atmosferes. Tota la novel·la està narrada des del punt de vist de Sandy, que sap la història d'Edith Goodnough i l'hi explica a un periodista de Denver que ha vingut a esbrinar què ha passat a Holt. El Sandy coneix a l'Edith des de petit, per tant la coneix com pocs i hi ha una estima i una comprensió immesurables. I és això el que fa tan bé Haruf, explicar històries de gent corrent, força desgraciada, des d'una mirada empàtica, desgranant la duresa i les contradiccions. Posant llum als vincles que es creen entre els diferents personatges.
Una de les coses que més m'ha agradat de la novel·la és com de bé mostra tot lo immaterial que es traspassa de generació en generació.
Ja us dic que m'agrada molt Haruf.
Haruf domina la narració com pocs. Els personatges, els temps, les atmosferes. Tota la novel·la està narrada des del punt de vist de Sandy, que sap la història d'Edith Goodnough i l'hi explica a un periodista de Denver que ha vingut a esbrinar què ha passat a Holt. El Sandy coneix a l'Edith des de petit, per tant la coneix com pocs i hi ha una estima i una comprensió immesurables. I és això el que fa tan bé Haruf, explicar històries de gent corrent, força desgraciada, des d'una mirada empàtica, desgranant la duresa i les contradiccions. Posant llum als vincles que es creen entre els diferents personatges.
Una de les coses que més m'ha agradat de la novel·la és com de bé mostra tot lo immaterial que es traspassa de generació en generació.
Ja us dic que m'agrada molt Haruf.
December 17, 2021
Primera de las seis novelas del autor, todas ellas ubicadas en el ficticio condado de Holt, un pueblo árido de Colorado.
Me encanta el estilo narrativo, sutil, sobrio y evocador.
Me encanta el estilo narrativo, sutil, sobrio y evocador.
December 2, 2017
Will have to think on this....review to come.
I was introduced to Haruf by my husband and starting with his later books, he instantly became one of my favorites of all times. So I had to go back to where it all started. This story was much more somber and dark than some of his later books. He still details the hard life of his characters but with the Goodnough family I found no joy. In other works of his, no matter how trying the lives are there is always a sense of promise for something better and from the beginning of this story I knew there would be no such outcome. There was not.
From the start I knew I had entered into the small community of Holt, Colorado. Life was very simple and secrets were well kept, disappointments hidden. Life was hard and your neighbors and community were everything. Sadly, Edith Goodnough watched her opportunities for any happiness slip through her fingers year after year until there were none left. This is her story. Sad and haunting. Haruf has the ability to create real and layered characters, ones which we are able to identify as people we have met in life. His descriptive writing and simple dialogue are masterful.
The one thing I did not care for as much in this book was that it was told from a third point of view, and I never felt I heard Edith's voice out loud. In later books the reader is privy to the insights of multiple characters and I missed that here.
Is he still one of my favorites? Oh yes, and I am so saddened that his voice has been silenced by his death. I will miss the people he has introduced me to.
I was introduced to Haruf by my husband and starting with his later books, he instantly became one of my favorites of all times. So I had to go back to where it all started. This story was much more somber and dark than some of his later books. He still details the hard life of his characters but with the Goodnough family I found no joy. In other works of his, no matter how trying the lives are there is always a sense of promise for something better and from the beginning of this story I knew there would be no such outcome. There was not.
From the start I knew I had entered into the small community of Holt, Colorado. Life was very simple and secrets were well kept, disappointments hidden. Life was hard and your neighbors and community were everything. Sadly, Edith Goodnough watched her opportunities for any happiness slip through her fingers year after year until there were none left. This is her story. Sad and haunting. Haruf has the ability to create real and layered characters, ones which we are able to identify as people we have met in life. His descriptive writing and simple dialogue are masterful.
The one thing I did not care for as much in this book was that it was told from a third point of view, and I never felt I heard Edith's voice out loud. In later books the reader is privy to the insights of multiple characters and I missed that here.
Is he still one of my favorites? Oh yes, and I am so saddened that his voice has been silenced by his death. I will miss the people he has introduced me to.
January 17, 2025
Non è mai bello fare classifiche e votazioni ma questo “Vincoli” di Kent Haruf, il primo sforzo letterario da lui pubblicato nel 1984, paradossalmente, potrebbe essere il più bel romanzo della sua esigua produzione maturata nell’arco di un trentennio! La lettura di questa vicenda mi ha coinvolto profondamente per la sua bellezza letteraria, per il suo svolgimento privo di fronzoli e lungaggini, per la schiettezza dei suoi personaggi e l’attenta introspezione psicologica: un romanzo che si potrebbe leggere tutto d’un fiato ma che invece è stato bellissimo centellinare, assaporare senza fretta, come un vino d’annata! Sembra superfluo ribadire quanto risplenda e illumini questo romanzo l’indimenticabile figura di Edith Goodnough, donna di umanissimi e profondi sentimenti, ma un premio speciale di simpatia lo voglio dare alla voce narrante Sanders Roscoe, memorabile guascone ed esempio degli abitanti di Holt, quell’angolo immaginario del nord-est del Colorado dove è ambientato questo capolavoro.
July 21, 2023
Dank der begeisterten Rezensionen meiner Mitstreiterin Bri auf unserem Blog Feinerbuchstoff, wollte ich auch endlich mal in Kent Harufs fiktives Holt reisen, und ich bin richtig begeistert. Habe erfahren, dass dieser Band chronologisch eigentlich der erste der Reihe ist und dass nun der Zyklus der Veröffentlichungen beendet sein soll. Was freue ich mich jetzt schon, auch die anderen Geschichten aus dieser amerikanischen Kleinstadt zu entdecken und muss ein bisschen hämisch grinsen, denn ich habe ja, im Gegensatz zu anderen, die restlichen Meisterwerke aus dieser Reihe allesamt noch vor mir. 😉
Doch nun zum Lobgesang auf diesen Band. Haruf schafft es meisterhaft, die Weite des Landes, die Armut, die harte Arbeit auf den Farmen, den unbedingten Überlebenswillen in einer feindlichen Umwelt, die Gesellschaft im Ort und die Protagonisten einzufangen und zu vermitteln. Sehr tief sind alle Figuren entwickelt und sie sind allesamt sehr vielschichtig. Nie gibt es holzschnittartige Charaktere, die Guten weisen enorme Schwächen auf, sie entwickeln sich auch oft durch die Umstände in eine andere Richtung und auch die Bösewichte haben ihre schwachen Momente. Es menschelt ordentlich in Holt. Das ist überhaupt ein zentrales Thema in diesem Roman: Schicksalsschläge überwinden, weitermachen, überleben, furchtbare Rahmenbedingungen akzeptieren lernen oder auch nicht und gegen sie rebellieren. Zudem gibt es in dieser Geschichte noch den Aspekt einer großen, innigen Liebe, die durch die Umstände und durch einen bösartigen, gewalttätigen Vater nie gelebt werden kann. Nichtsdestotrotz haben sich die Protagonisten irgendwie eingerichtet und stattdessen eine über mehrere Generationen anhaltende innige Freundschaft entwickelt.
Edith Goodnough hat ihren Bruder getötet. Eigentlich sollte diese Tat aus menschlichen Gründen in der Gemeinde unter den Tisch gekehrt werden, aber der Reporter einer Zeitung aus Denver stöbert alles auf. Nun wird Ediths wahre Geschichte von ihrem gewalttätigen Vater, ihrem Bruder und ihrer großen Liebe John Roscoe von dessen Sohn Sanders Roscoe erzählt. Das ist harter Tobak, so wie das Landleben eben war, aber nicht auf effektheischend getrimmt, sondern halt sehr leise, subtil und manchmal sachlich grausam erzählt, mit ganz viel Liebe und Freundschaft zwischendurch, Realität halt.
Ich liebe alles an dem Buch: das teilweise gemächliche Tempo, die Figuren, die gesamte Handlung, die Sprache und die bildhafte Beschreibung des Landlebens. Es ist fast so, als wäre man dort.
Fazit: Grandios, geerdet, bodenständig, so wie der trockene Boden in Colorado, der mit ein bisschen Bewässerung in guten Jahren aufblüht, dann wieder vertrocknet und in ganz schlechten Jahren zu wenig zum Überleben lässt. Absolute Leseempfehlung!
Doch nun zum Lobgesang auf diesen Band. Haruf schafft es meisterhaft, die Weite des Landes, die Armut, die harte Arbeit auf den Farmen, den unbedingten Überlebenswillen in einer feindlichen Umwelt, die Gesellschaft im Ort und die Protagonisten einzufangen und zu vermitteln. Sehr tief sind alle Figuren entwickelt und sie sind allesamt sehr vielschichtig. Nie gibt es holzschnittartige Charaktere, die Guten weisen enorme Schwächen auf, sie entwickeln sich auch oft durch die Umstände in eine andere Richtung und auch die Bösewichte haben ihre schwachen Momente. Es menschelt ordentlich in Holt. Das ist überhaupt ein zentrales Thema in diesem Roman: Schicksalsschläge überwinden, weitermachen, überleben, furchtbare Rahmenbedingungen akzeptieren lernen oder auch nicht und gegen sie rebellieren. Zudem gibt es in dieser Geschichte noch den Aspekt einer großen, innigen Liebe, die durch die Umstände und durch einen bösartigen, gewalttätigen Vater nie gelebt werden kann. Nichtsdestotrotz haben sich die Protagonisten irgendwie eingerichtet und stattdessen eine über mehrere Generationen anhaltende innige Freundschaft entwickelt.
Edith Goodnough hat ihren Bruder getötet. Eigentlich sollte diese Tat aus menschlichen Gründen in der Gemeinde unter den Tisch gekehrt werden, aber der Reporter einer Zeitung aus Denver stöbert alles auf. Nun wird Ediths wahre Geschichte von ihrem gewalttätigen Vater, ihrem Bruder und ihrer großen Liebe John Roscoe von dessen Sohn Sanders Roscoe erzählt. Das ist harter Tobak, so wie das Landleben eben war, aber nicht auf effektheischend getrimmt, sondern halt sehr leise, subtil und manchmal sachlich grausam erzählt, mit ganz viel Liebe und Freundschaft zwischendurch, Realität halt.
Ich liebe alles an dem Buch: das teilweise gemächliche Tempo, die Figuren, die gesamte Handlung, die Sprache und die bildhafte Beschreibung des Landlebens. Es ist fast so, als wäre man dort.
Fazit: Grandios, geerdet, bodenständig, so wie der trockene Boden in Colorado, der mit ein bisschen Bewässerung in guten Jahren aufblüht, dann wieder vertrocknet und in ganz schlechten Jahren zu wenig zum Überleben lässt. Absolute Leseempfehlung!
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