This is the story of three sisters growing up in Greece; their first loves, lies, and secrets; their shared childhood experiences and their gradual growing apart. Three Summers is a romance with nature, with our planet. It is the declaration of a young girl in love with life itself.
Margarita Liberaki (Greek: Μαργαρίτα Λυμπεράκη) was born in Athens and raised by her grandparents, who ran the Fexis bookstore and publishing house. In addition to Three Summers, an NYRB Classics title, she wrote two further novels, The Other Alexander (1950) and The Mystery (1976); a number of plays, including Candaules’ Wife (1955) and The Danaïds (1956), part of a cycle she called Mythical Theater; several screenplays, including Jules Dassin’s Phaedra (1962) and Diaspora (1999), about Greek intellectuals in exile in Paris during the junta; and a translation of Treasure Island (2000). Three Summers is now a standard part of Greek and Cypriot public education; it was adapted as a television miniseries in 1995.
“Oh, to be able to give shape to such experiences, to make them live after their death . . . I get all excited when I hear people talk about their lives, about things that have happened to them, even the simplest events. I feel that in the telling they have greater significance than they had in real life.”
Reading, too, can make real life seem a lot more absorbing, can’t it?! We have all read those books that surprise us by capturing the most insignificant little events and injecting them with such meaning and expansiveness. This novel by Margarita Liberaki features a main character, Katarina, who learns something about the significance of those things we don’t quite understand as children. The setting is mid to late 1940s Greece. As the title suggests, it takes place across three summers in the lives of three sisters: Maria, Katarina and Infanta. Yes, I’ve read another coming-of-age novel. There’s something about summertime and the rush of vacations and hectic life events that makes coming-of-age books very comforting to me. The sisters couldn’t be more different from one another, as is common with siblings, and I delighted in learning a bit about each of them. From the start, Liberaki hints at those differences.
“That summer we bought big straw hats. Maria’s had cherries around the rim, Infanta’s had forget-me-nots, and mine had poppies as red as fire. When we lay in the hayfield wearing them, the sky, the wildflowers, and the three of us all melted into one.”
As the one summer progresses into the next, the sisters fall in love with different young men and each reacts to these new experiences in their individual ways. Profound ways really, if you think about how love might shape a young woman’s life choices in the mid-twentieth century.
“I’m not like Maria. I wouldn’t let a boy touch me just to pass the time. Maybe I’ll find someone who will watch the daisies blooming in the field with me, who will cut me a branch of the first autumn berries and bring it to me with the leaves still damp. Or maybe I’ll set out to see the world alone.”
Liberaki handles it all with a light touch and this is exactly what I needed. The point of view is primarily Katarina’s, and she imagine the lives of those others around her as well: her divorced parents, her neighbors, her sisters, the men in their lives, and the absent maternal Grandmother who left her own children at an early age to pursue love and adventure. When we don’t really know something about another, we come up with our own versions of what goes on inside their heads, don’t we? Katarina, as a young woman, naturally does the same. She figures some things out along the way and others remain a mystery, only to be understood later in life.
“Only years later would I realize how much my love for my mother was like a lover’s: the stubbornness, the moments of hatred, and the limitless tenderness afterwards. And how my love for my father was the love of mankind.”
I read this while on my own little idyllic adventure and it fit just right. There’s not as much depth as I typically demand from my reading experiences, but that’s not always needed, is it? It was perfect for me and my relaxed spirit. I’m quite certain that I could identify with Katarina, and wished for a time I could return to. I’d not only look at things differently, but act on them differently as well. Ah, sweet nostalgia- you’re a blessing and a curse!
3.5 stars rounded up to 4 because it was the perfect book at the perfect time!
“Summer is almost over. Like a day when it’s almost over, the late afternoon just before dusk. The shadows in the garden have changed, even the shadow of the house is different, more beautiful this season, longer and thinner.”
"The day is hot, the mind empty, the leaves motionless, the body and soul, too. We try to give meaning to what we see. At times the dead are living, and at other times the living, dead." (pg 27)
▪️THREE SUMMERS by Margarita Liberaki, translated from the Greek by Karen van Dyck, 1946/1995 by @nyrbooks
#ReadtheWorld21 📍Greece
1940s countryside outside of Athens: three sisters over three summers.
Katerina, the youngest sister, narrates this bold and atmospheric novel. Precocious, whimsical, but also with a fiery streak, Katerina shares the daily life and loves of her elder sisters, Maria and Infanta, as well as her divorced mother.
Considering the 1946 publication date, there is some surprisingly strong feminist undertones in the story, specifically relating to sex and independence, and how each of the sisters choose their paths.
Upon learning more about Liberaki and her own biography, she greatly valued personal liberty - so much so that "she insisted on transliterating her name as Liberaki, not Lymberaki, so that it looked like a cognate of liberation." (From the Introduction).
The book is saturated in colorful and sensual descriptions of the fecund countryside: meadows full of wildflowers, scrumptious figs and other fruits... Imagine an idyllic Greek summer, and there it is.
Amongst the rich descriptions, some of my favorite parts were the small philosophical one-liners that Liberaki would throw in amongst the dialogue and descriptions, like the one I highlighted at the beginning of the post.
There was a beautiful introduction essay in this NYRB edition by the translator, Karen van Dyck.
Πρόκειται για ένα από τα κλασικότερα και πιο πολυδιαβασμένα μυθιστορήματα της νεοελληνικής πεζογραφίας, έτυχε να είναι μια από τις προσφορές του Βήματος της Κυριακής και είπα να το τιμήσω, μιας και δεν το είχα. Και στο καπάκι αποφάσισα να το διαβάσω, γιατί ήθελα να διαβάσω και κάτι κλασικό, γραμμένο από Έλληνα ή Ελληνίδα συγγραφέα. Λοιπόν, παραδόξως μου άρεσε! Και λέω παραδόξως, γιατί πώς να το κάνουμε, δεν είναι δα και από τα βιβλία που συνήθως διαβάζω και απολαμβάνω, είναι μια ιστορία ενηλικίωσης με έρωτες και μελό καταστάσεις, που πλησιάζει τα ογδόντα χρόνια παρουσίας στα ελληνικά γράμματα. Όμως, ναι, το απόλαυσα. Σίγουρα είναι αργόσυρτο, σίγουρα δεν συμβαίνουν συνταρακτικά πράγματα, όμως διάολε είναι υπέροχα γραμμένο, κάργα μελαγχολικό και ανθρώπινο, γεμάτο όμορφες εικόνες και κάθε είδους συναισθήματα, με υπέροχες και καμιά φορά λυρικές περιγραφές μιας Κηφισιάς που δεν υπάρχει πια, αλλά που τότε ήταν ακόμα εξοχή, με κάμπους, χωράφια, κατσίκια και όλα τα καλούδια που έχει συνήθως η εξοχή. Δεν ξέρω, η συγγραφέας με ταξίδεψε σε μια άλλη εποχή, σε μια άλλη Ελλάδα, και κατάφερε να με χαλαρώσει, να με ηρεμήσει. Ειλικρινά δεν περίμενα ότι θα διάβαζα τούτο το βιβλίο με τόσο ενδιαφέρον και με τέτοια προσοχή: Περίμενα ίσως ότι θα βαριόμουν, ότι θα κουραζόμουν, αλλά δεν έγινε έτσι. Και χαίρομαι γι' αυτό. Πολύ ωραίο!
Early on in Three Summers I wasn't sure what I was reading. I finally decided it's a close cousin to Joan Chase's novel During the Reign of the Queen of Persia. Both novels are about young girls observing the world of adults around them and coming to an understanding of that world and their place in it. While Chase's novel, which I reread last year, takes place in rural Ohio, Liberaki's Three Summers tells of 3 Greek sisters who live in a suburb of Athens. Though 5000 miles separate Greece and Ohio, and though 20 years separate the lives lived with a world war intervening, all these girls share similarities. They're aware of romantic love and wonder about sex and observe animals and adults with the same fascination. What's different is what's learned. What's different is the degree of astonishment.
The story of Maria, Infanta, and Katerina reels out over 3 summers in the late '30s. Perhaps it's romantic. Katerina, the youngest and whose point of view the novel is, mostly sees the world that way. Even as her perceptions are widened by events around her and even as she interacts with characters whose complexities point to discoveries she couldn't have been aware of when the novel opens, I think she remains dreamy. That's probably best represented by the Eden-like summers of the novel permeated with floral scents and warm breezes across suburban meadows. The lives of the Krauss girls in Ohio are also blessed by their summers until an abrupt family crisis in hard, iron winter forces them into a realism Katerina in Athens doesn't have to face yet.
It's beautifully written and not at all sweet but still perhaps a bit soft for me. Unlike the Krauss cousins, Katerina doesn't find that same crust of profundity to chew on.
NYRB must be congratulated for bringing into light forgotten classics of the past, mostly out-of-print books, freshly translated into English from different languages, that, otherwise, would not have found the light of the day in the 21st century. This one, translated from modern greek original ("Τα ψάθινα καπέλα"), as Three Summers is a lush, evocative, and heartwarming piece of work that showcases three adolescent sisters (with different temperaments) and their life events through the course of three summers in a turn-of-the-century Greece in the years before the Second World War. The book bears testimony to their early life on the verge of adolescence, their loves and longings, their secret desires, their temper tantrums, and all the other signs and events that belie a childhood on the verge of the first springs of adolescence. Here we meet the bold and sexually promiscuous Maria, the beautiful and distant Infanta, and the spirited and rebellious Katerina (who is also the principal narrator); not to mention in the least a very dear Polish babcia that goes away from their lives in the first summer, their divorced father, and a very eager and wealthy lover who is smitten with their mother. We come across their first loves: Katerina loves David, an astronomer who is writing a book that is almost a thousand pages long, and also Andreas, a sea captain who is also the son of their grandfather's best friend- an old man who is writing a novel on the sea captain himself. Maria gets married and has children, while Katerina is in love with David, while Infanta seems to be attracted to none in particular. Katerina is herself torn between David and Andreas, and what is to become of her future. These and other wonderful characters, together with author's astute observations form the core of this wonderful, languourous, lush and leisurely paced novel. Indeed it is certainly a book worth reading!
A Greek classic from the 1940s which is on the high school curriculum, and I can see why. It is set in a country house not far from Athens, where three teenage sisters with new straw hats are experiencing the three summers that, in one way or another, will bring them to adulthood. Maria is sensuous and carnal, identifying with the forest creatures; Infanta is ethereal and brave, racing horses yet under the thumb of her repressed (or damaged) aunt, and Katerina is clearly a future novelist, with her minute though often confused observations of the world around her. She must decide what kind of future she wants.
In many ways this is an ideal summer read, full of descriptions of nature, romance and (fairly innocent) lust and family secrets. It is largely narrated by Katerina, though the narrative jumps occasionally into other heads, people with quite different perspectives. For me, there were inevitable memories of reading My Family and Other Animals frequently as a child; with the natural world so presence, the Greek setting, the literary frisson. It also reminded me of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
As much as I wanted it to be from a time of past summers when the world wasn’t on fire, an actual fire does make a guest appearance:
…Then all of a sudden we saw the fire. It appeared first on one of the peaks of Parnitha, to the right of Aghia Triada, and progressed like a snake along the ridge. The sky was red, you could see red flames and red smoke.
And in fact it isn't a totally innocent book. Though filtered through a fairly childlike gaze, there is a divorce and its aftermath, a rape, mentions of global politics, and of course women's available roles in the world.
It's not a plot-driven book, though things do happen, both in individual summers and arching across them. The ending was unusual. A new character, possibly not even real, is introduced, and Katerina’s literary side is on the ascendant.
All in all, this is a book that both fits neatly into a box (dreamy summer read) and won’t stay within it (lightly Modernist air, surprising juxtapositions in prose and story.
Some favourite quotes:
[My father has] books in French and English full of machines and numbers and algebraic equation: stack of books that all seemed the same to us. But two are different and are set apart on a small shelf—Robinson Crusoe and The Jungle Book…Once a week when we would come in from the country for a visit he would read them to us from beginning to end. All three of us would lie on his big bed with half-closed eyes, listening. Now we are older and embarrassed to ask him and he is embarrassed to suggest it. So there are huge silences full of Robinson Crusoe and The Jungle Book as if he were still reading and we were still listening.
Marios wants to hold the highlight [in Maria’s hair] in his hand, but reflections can’t be held. A sadness overcomes him. How is it possible for someone to read about anatomy all afternoon, to put everything that he learns in perfect order, and then suddenly for him to get it into his head that he wants to hold a reflection?
“Dissatisfied women are simply unsuccessful women,” said Maria, her cheeks flushed. And she went on and on about the animals in the forest who enjoy the lightness in their gait, their claws as they attack, their teeth as they devour their prey. She wandered so far from the topic that we all forgot what we had been talking about.
The strange thing is that the vagueness Grandfather used to have in his face and in all his gestures has started to fade…. His features are changing, finishing themselves off. His hair, which was not exactly white or black, has suddenly become all white, the wrinkles on his forehead, on his cheeks, and around his mouth have grown deeper, final…Yes, his face was taking its final form, and that scared me because when it had taken that form, Grandfather would die.
This novel is sort of like a Greek version of Little Women. The first two thirds glide along with the ease of a lazy summer day but the final third is skimmable melodrama. And I had problems with the first person POV. How does the narrator have access to other characters' private thoughts and actions? Anyway, it's an acceptable, though underwhelming book.
I've decided whenever I travel, to read a book written by an author from that place, set in that place. Recently I was in Athens, and decided to read this.
I'm not quite sure what it's supposed to be.
Set in Greece, in the suburbs of Athens, the foreword says it's supposed to be a 'coming of age' novel, but I can't help but think that the main narrator, Katerina, doesn't really grow up at all? The plot revolves around Katerina and her sisters Maria and Infanta, and their love lives, hopes and dreams.
There's no doubt that Liberaki writes gorgeously, but there are far, far too many characters here that are mentioned once, and then name dropped randomly. Who is Koula? Gekas? Lina? I couldn't keep track: it could really benefit from a list of characters, as per Elena Ferrante's Neapolitan tetralogy.
Some of the characters work well - Maria, David, and I found Mrs. Parigori interesting - but some don't. Katerina didn't make much sense to me. Why is she 16/17 and randomly screaming, constantly? Why is David interested in her? Why is she so horrible to her mother?
Parts of this were beautiful, hence the three stars, but I found myself skimming at the end where two new characters were introduced and heavily mentioned, and I thought: I don't care about these characters; why are they occupying so much space in the narrative? What's the relevance?
I can't help but feel this would've worked better in POV chapters, but given that this was published in 1946, I'm unsure if this was a style that existed then (and certainly not something that can exactly be rectified now!) I felt more drawn to the parts involving Maria (especially the bit with the farm boy...oh gosh...), as well as Aunt Theresa's backstory, and found Katerina too overwhelming and erratic as a narrator.
Ultimately lots of promise, lots of skill, but for me, the plot didn't quite make up for the disjointed narrative voice.
Words that come to me to describe this book: lush, languid, sultry, dreamlike, atmospheric. Much like the title suggests, it is highly evocative of summer. It was beautiful and touching and the ending was such an aching sweetness. I'm glad I stumbled onto this in the way one stumbles onto things on twitter. Of all places. A place that evokes the opposite feeling that this book does.
"Aquel verano nos compramos unos enormes sombreros de paja. El de María tenía cerezas alrededor; el de Infanta, nomeolvides azules, y el mío, amapolas rojas como el fuego. Así, cuando nos tumbábamos en el pajar, nos fundíamos con las flores silvestres." ♥
'Tres veranos' de Margarita Liberaki ha sido el libro perfecto para despedir agosto y, con él, los días de verano. Sus páginas tienen la luminosidad, el color y la poesía asociada a los meses más cálidos del año; la belleza de un campo de trigo plagado de amapolas, de los matices azules del Mediterráneo revelados por los reflejos del sol.
Publicado originalmente en 1946 'Tres veranos' cuenta la historia de tres hermanas que viven en un pequeño pueblo griego: la apasionada María, la melancólica Infanta y, finalmente, la soñadora Katerina. Tres hermanas representadas por esa primera imagen de tres sombreros de paja tostándose bajo el intenso sol. En este bellísimo relato de iniciación seguiremos sus pasos, más o menos indecisos, hacia la edad adulta y al mismo tiempo descubriremos los secretos de su extraña familia, en especial el de esa abuela polaca que un día desapareció sin mirar atrás, abandonando el hogar, al marido y a sus propias hijas...
A través de la mirada de la pequeña Katerina somos testigos de estos tres veranos en la vida de las tres hermanas. De los lazos que estas van tejiendo con conocidos y desconocidos. De sus amores, de sus anhelos, de sus distintos despertares a la vida...y finalmente veremos el camino escogido por cada una de ellas. El del matrimonio, el de la independencia, el que pasa por mantenerse fiel a una misma...
Atmosférica, evocadora y exuberante en sus descripciones 'Tres veranos' es una lectura perfecta para estos días de verano, en especial para los últimos días de agosto que ya están envueltos en una brisa cargada de nostalgia.
First published in 1946, Three Summers is a something of classic of Greek literature, a languid coming-of-age novel set over three consecutive summer seasons – recently reissued by NYRB Classics in a beautiful new edition.
The story focuses on three sisters – Maria (aged 20), Infanta (aged 18), and Katerina (aged 16) – who live with their mother, their unmarried Aunt Theresa, and their grandfather in the Greek countryside just north of Athens. The girls’ mother, Anna, is separated from her husband, Miltos, following the latter’s open affairs. A Polish grandmother, whom we never actually meet in person, is another important character in the novel. There is a whiff of scandal and romanticism around this woman, mainly because she left her husband for a travelling musician several years earlier, abandoning Anna and Theresa in their childhood.
In an evocative opening chapter, we see how the three sisters differ from one another in terms of character, their particular patches of garden reflecting something of the nature of their personalities. While Maria’s tiny vegetable garden is ordered and divided into discrete squares, Infanta’s is wild, containing almond trees that can survive without frequent watering or special care. Katerina’s, by contrast, is more spontaneous still, bursting with flowers grown from randomly-scattered seeds – a riot of contrasting colours all packed together. As Katerina is the novel’s narrator, it is predominantly through her eyes that we see the rest of the family.
At first sight, it might appear as though the novel is presenting a simple story, one of three sisters growing up in the idyllic Greek countryside. However, there are darker, more complex issues bubbling away under the surface as the sisters must learn to navigate the choices that will shape the future directions of their lives. Sexual awakening is a major theme, with the novel’s lush and sensual tone echoing the rhythms of the natural world.
The houses were closer together again here. About forty all in a clump, crowded together out of loneliness, like people. The gardens were beautiful this year. The heavy rains that winter had done them good. They were full of green and the trunks of the trees were shiny. Tiny tomatoes were beginning to appear. You could already see the yellow stamen on the male pistachio trees, and the female ones waiting. The males would go to the females. All the females could do was ready their juices, receive the male and bear fruit. They waited, in the burning heat, sensitive to any gust of wind that might bring them the seed. (pp. 50-51)
Familie, Feminismus, Frauwerden: eingerahmt in ein wundervolles Sommergefühl. . Wir begleiten die drei Schwestern Maria, Infanta und Katerina, die drei aufeinanderfolgende Sommer auf sehr unterschiedliche Weise erleben. Katerina, die jüngste der Drei und Freigeist der Familie erzählt uns auf eine sehr quirlige, überschwemmende Art und Weise, wie sie die drei Sommer im Kosmos ihrer Familie und Freunden erlebt hat. . Dabei ist der Roman nicht unbedingt eine klassische „coming of age“-Story Mitte des zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts - vielmehr erzählt Liberaki eine tiefgründige, komplexe Familiengeschichte, die durch unterschiedliche Romanfiguren geprägt wird. So hütet beispielsweise die Mutter der Schwestern ein Geheimnis, dass Distanz und Unruhe schafft. Die drei Schwestern erleben ihre erste Liebe - jede auf ihre eigene Weise. Während Katerina Unabhängigkeit auch in der Liebe wichtig ist, versucht Infanta ihren Liebsten auf Abstand zu halten und nicht zu viel Interesse zu zeigen. Maria hingegen geht mit der Zeit voll in ihrer Rolle als häusliche Ehefrau auf, obwohl sie sich dies nie vorstellen konnte. . Liberaki erzählt diese Geschichte mit einer poetischen Prosa, die einen ohne Weiteres wundervolle griechische Sommertage auf dem Lande verbringen lässt. Was mich besonders beeindruckt hat, waren die feministischen, fortschrittlichen Elemente in einem Roman, der bereits 1946 zum ersten Mal veröffentlicht wurde. Liberaki legt besonderes Augenmerk darauf, wie sich die Frauen der Familie in der Männer-dominierten Welt durch eigene Entscheidungen und Handlungen eigene Weg bahnen und ein selbstbestimmtes Frausein und Frauwerden entwickeln. . Ein außergewöhnlicher Klassiker mit ordentlich Tiefgang mit nennenswerter Aktualität! Lasst euch von Liberaki nicht täuschen! Sie lässt euch mit diesem Roman zwar den Sommer spüren, hat aber noch so viel mehr zu bieten!
Este libro es puro verano. Tardes que se estiran como un chicle, cuarenta grados a la sombra, baños en el lago, ropa blanca tendida al sol, el olor del romero y la lavanda, el polvo del camino, los vestidos sueltos y sombreros de paja, las cigarras cantando… todo eso es lo que consigue transmitir Margarita Liberaki. María, Infanta y Caterina son tres hermanas que viven con su madre y su tía en una casa de campo a las afuera de Atenas, y a través de los ojos de Caterina, las visitaremos durante tres veranos. Tres veranos en los que dejarán de ser niñas para pasar a ser jóvenes adultas. Seremos testigos de los primeros amores de las tres hermanas y de cómo cada una lo afronta de una manera diferente, las veremos discutir y reconciliarse, también observaremos como poco a poco descubren secretos y dolores de los adultos, en los que no habían reparado hasta el momento. En definitiva, las vamos a ver crecer. Esta novela de crecimiento ha sido una gozada leerla en verano porque es extremadamente atmosférica. Las descripciones del paisaje griego en verano son vívidas y coloridas, detalladas y realmente bonitas. Ver cómo Caterina y sus hermanas aprenden a definir su identidad y a escoger qué tipo de mujer quieren ser, ha sido muy especial. Es un libro que rebosa feminidad y en el que la autora muestra lo difícil que puede llegar a ser la comunicación entre una madre y sus hijas. En ocasiones me ha costado comprender las salidas de tono que tiene Caterina, pero es que es fácil olvidar cómo de dramático se siente el mundo cuando sólo tienes dieciséis años y no sabes todavía lo que quieres. Si buscas un libro que hable del primer beso, de amistades de verano, de familias complejas y de mujeres con sombreros de paja, tres veranos puede ser una gran opción. 3,75 ⭐️
„Drei Sommer“ ist der zweite Roman der Autorin Margarita Liberaki, erstmals 1946 (d.h. unmittelbar nach dem Ende des Zweiten Weltkriegs) im Original veröffentlicht, und mittlerweile ein moderner Klassiker in Griechenland. Interessanterweise werden die Kriegsjahre, die Entbehrungen, unter denen die Menschen litten, mit keinem Wort erwähnt. Nein, es ist eine Geschichte vom Erwachsenwerden in einer vordergründigen Idylle, in der es an nichts fehlt.
Drei Sommer, drei Schwestern. Maria, die Älteste, ist pragmatisch, verkörpert die Traditionen, die nicht hinterfragt werden. Ihr Lebensweg gleicht dem klassischen Frauenleben, ist mit Heirat und Mutterschaft vorgezeichnet. In Frage stellt sie das nicht, Selbstverwirklichung und die große Liebe haben darin wenig Platz.
Infanta, die Mittlere, ist die Widersprüchige. Weiß noch nicht, was sie vom Leben will und erwartet. Auf der einen Seite sucht sie die Freiheit bei ihren täglichen Ausritten, andererseits widmet sie sich ausdauernd ihren Handarbeiten. Sie orientiert sich an ihrer Tante Teresa, die nach einer traumatischen Erfahrung die Gesellschaft von Männern meidet und nie geheiratet hat, ein erfülltes Leben ohne Männder führt.
Katerina hingegen, die jüngste der drei Schwestern, hat klare Vorstellungen davon, was sie mit ihrem Leben anfangen möchte. Sie nimmt sich die abwesende und geschmähte Großmutter zum Vorbild, für sie das Ideal einer Frau, die ihren eigenen Weg gegangen ist, Mann und Kinder verlassen hat, um ein freies und selbstbestimmtes Leben zu führen.
Drei Jahre, drei griechische Sommer, in denen die Wege der Schwestern sich verändern, in verschiedene Richtungen auseinanderdriften.
Ein zeitloser, unaufgeregter Roman über elementare Themen. Über die Liebe und das Leben, über Identitätsfindung und Erwartungshaltungen, über familiäre Prägungen und individuelle Träume. Mit wunderschönen Naturbeschreibungen und intensiven Charakterstudien äußerst stimmungsvoll in Szene gesetzt.
Η ιστορία τριών καλοκαιριών και τριών αδερφών. Μια ιστορία "ενηλικίωσης" και παρατήρησης ανθρώπινων συμπεριφορών, όχι ιδιαίτερα πρωτότυπη, αλλά ξεχωριστή.
Τι είναι αυτό που την κάνει να ξεχωρίζει; Η γραφή της Λυμπεράκη. Παραμυθένια, με έναν αυθορμητισμό που φέρνει σε αμηχανία τον αναγνώστη πολλές φορές. Με χαρακτήρες ολοκληρωμένους, με φοβίες και σκέψεις και όνειρα και αλλοπρόσαλλες συμπεριφορές. Μια γραφή που σε ξαφνιάζει και σε παρασέρνει.
Πολλές συμπεριφορές κι αντιλήψεις θα φανούν ξεπερασμένες, νομίζω όμως ότι είναι ένα καλό αντιπροσωπευτικό δείγμα της εποχής που διαδραματίζεται η υπόθεση.
Ένα βιβλίο που έφερε το καλοκαίρι στον Γενάρη μου και με έκανε να ανυπομονώ να διαβάσω κι άλλα βιβλία της Λυμπεράκη.
No soy una lectora estacional, Tres veranos es la prueba. Tenía muchas ganas de leer este clásico de las letras griegas y me alegra no haber esperado al verano para hacerlo porque su lectura me ha regalado esa luz y ese color que tanto necesitaba para compensar otras propuestas mas oscuras que tengo entre manos.
La de Margarita Liberaki es una novela que te traslada a un lugar feliz, a esos veranos llenos de descubrimientos en los que nuestra inocencia comienza a tambalearse. Lo hace a través de la historia de tres hermanas y desde la mirada de la pequeña de ellas, Katerina, una niña despierta y soñadora que continuamente se rebela con el que en aquella época era considerado el camino correcto para una jovencita.
Las tres se enfrentan a tres veranos en un pequeño pueblo de Grecia en los que inevitablemente avanzan hacia la edad adulta. Y lo hacen tomando rumbos diferentes, casándose una, aferrándose a una libertad a veces incomprendida otra... pero siempre unidas.
Reconozco que esa unión entre las hermanas, el vínculo de cada una de ellas con la familia y las relaciones con los vecinos del pueblo, me hicieron sentirme como en casa mientras lo leía. Y es que es fácil verse representada en alguna de ellas o en todas ellas, aunque no creo que sea imprescindible para disfrutar de esta novela. Yo lo hice además con sus descripciones, esas que te hacen desear el lugar sin conocerlo y días de verano con sol, tanto los que ya no volverán como los que están por llegar.
Probablemente no sea Tres Verano una novela que vaya a dejarme una gran huella, pero me ha hecho sentirme feliz mientras la leía. Y si, también algo melancólica. Así que creo que ha cumplido con creces su cometido.
¿Y no vas a mencionar ningún pero? No esta vez. Esta vez elijo quedarme con esa sensación positiva que por otra parte es muy real.
No es que no me haya gustado o que tuviese las expectativas muy altas, pero tampoco es una novela que me vaya a dejar huella. Es la historia de una familia, madre, tía y tres hermanas que viven a las afueras de Atenas y son tres personas totalmente diferentes, una seria, sensata, otra llena de fuerza, sin miedo a nada y la última una soñadora, amante de la aventura, se desarrolla en tres veranos sucesivos en los que vamos viendo la evolución de cada una de ellas, como pasan de adolescentes que llenan los días de verano con gran complicidad, una relación muy intensa donde no caben los secretos a, según avanzan los años se va diluyendo y cada una toma una decisión diferente a la que pensaban en el primer verano. Lo que más me ha gustado es ver la evolución de las tres hermanas, la formación de sus caracteres, los recuerdos de momentos que son intranscendentes y con el paso de tiempo se convierten en momentos importantes y decisiones que al echar la vista atrás se ve lo que fue y lo que hubiera podido ser. Es una historia amable, con veranos gozosos, alegres, festivos, paseos, enamoramientos adolescentes, la naturaleza está muy presente y el paso de las estaciones muy bien descrito.
“I nodded off and slept a little, though I would never tell a soul. It was always a sweet sleep, and on waking I felt as if I were returning from another world. But the meadow was there laughing, and the grapes ripe on the vine, my hand ready to pluck them, my mouth ready to taste them, and I said to myself, Of all other worlds, and of all the stars that might be other worlds, the earth is surely the best.”
Dreamlike and piercingly lucid. Aches with love for this world, and all its difficult and contradictory inhabitants. This book so captures the bittersweet passage of time and the brilliance of the world just before the sun sets. I don’t know how, but it feels like Margarita Liberaki depicts the whole of life in Three Summers.
“the sun has disappeared from books these days. That’s why they hinder our attempts to live, instead of helping us. But the secret is still kept in your country, passed on from one initiate to another. You are one of those." .
This is what Albert Camus wrote to Margarita Liberaki when the book has first been published. And for good reason. This book has an indescribable life to it, as it is life itself. But I am sure this book will be a different thing for each and every reader, this is how encompassing and dazzling it is.
Then the rain comes. We laugh with relief. ‘Welcome,’ says Grandfather, ‘very welcome.’ What he means is that the rain will be good for the trees. ‘Yes, very,’ says Aunt Theresa, as if she were glad for the trees, when it’s really because she wants to wash her hair with rainwater. Mother doesn’t say anything. She met Father on a rainy day.
«πλησιάζαμε τον κόσμο της θάλασσας. εμείς που ζούσαμε με τα μυρμήγκια, τις σαύρες και τα βατράχια, σαστίζαμε μπρος στα κύματα. αφήναμε τα καβούρια να μπήζουν τις δαγκάνες τους μέσα στη σάρκα μας για ν’ ανακατωθεί η αλμύρα με το αίμα μας. και τα ψάρια ν’ αγγίζουν τα κορμιά μας για να νοιώσουμε πόσο κρύα είναι»
👒
«πάντως εμένα, λέει, δεν με τρελαίνουν αυτές οι ιστορίες. θέλω να ζήσω σαν τα φυτά και σαν τα ζώα. τα άλλα είν’ όλα ψεύτικα»
👒
ένα βιβλίο που διαβάσαμε πρώτη φορά σε λάθος εποχή. χάδι στα μαλλιά.
👒
«το βλέμμα του ώρες-ώρες ακουμπούσε στους ώμους, στα μαλλιά της, κι έμενε εκεί»