Reviews
It's very beautifully written. I got kinda bored at some parts as I'm not used to such slow readings, but I ended up way too deep feeling Lucy's sadness.
3.5 the best parts were always the emotional extremes, i love a meltdown written by the Bronte sisters its like they get it or smtg
Finales de otras épocas Este libro, de otra época describe fielmente lo que la literatura contemporánea a cambiado, el amor platónico sin necesidad de piel, es tan fuerte e inspirador que deleita su lectura.
A bold and powerful story assuredly but cryptically told. Unwound slowly like a watch spring. Must read again with clearer eyes.
3.75 ☆’s
Bronte's prose is as always ingeniously composed and controlled. I'm puzzled as to why people only read Jane Eyre and then never read another from Charlotte. I will say there are an abundance of long passages in French which may be an issue for many people, so I'd recommend having google translate at the ready if you need it. I found Villette to be a novel where it benefits from being read at a slower pace, I purposely slowed my reading down because I didn't want it to end. Also, I really liked Lucy - which seems to be an unpopular opinion? Read it.
The descriptions of imagined conversations with personified emotions I had to skip through, but the style of writing eventually hooked me into the story. I think being not limited to strict descriptions of reality expresses Lucy's angst and disappointment, which in turn is how I found myself identifying with this character even though her world so little resembles mine. So I came around to it and very much enjoyed this book, to my surprise.
A wonderful read! Lucy has a very real battle with depression but displays bravery by leaving the life and country she’s known her whole life behind to begin anew in a country she doesn’t even know the language in. The relationship between her and the love interest evolves slowly and it took a long time to warm up to him even for her but their relationship was actually adorable.
4.5
What a dull, tedious book. The only reason I finished it was because I wanted to find out why this is supposed to be Charlotte Brontë's masterpiece. I still don't know why that is... The story drags on way too long. Lucy Snowe is a terrible human being. And the fact that most of the dialogue is in French had me so annoyed at one part that I seriously dreaded picking the book up again to continue reading. As for the ending, it felt too bland. As did the rest of the book. A big nope from me, this one.
Highlights
My spirits had long been gradually sinking [...]they went down fast. Even to look forward wasn't to hope. The dumb future spoke no comfort, offered no promise, gave no inducement to bear present evil in reliance on future good. A Sorrowful indifference to existence often pressed on me despairing resignation to reach bedtimes the end of all things earthly. Alas! when I had full leisure to look on life as life must be looked on by such as me, I found it but a hopeless desert-tawny sands with no green fields, no palm-tree, no well in view.
Il sole sorse giocondo, col suo volto estivo. La mattina adornò la propria bellezza di rubini e si riempì talmente il grembo di rose, che queste piovvero a fiumi, colorando di rosso il sentiero. Le Ore si svegliarono fresche come ninfe e, vuotando sulle colline le loro boccette di rugiada, uscirono all'aperto senza ricoprirsi col mantello di nebbia: prive di ombre, azzurre e gloriose, condussero i destrieri del sole lungo un cammino ardente e senza nuvole.
Ma dove, poi, la luna non è bella? Quale scenario, vasto o limitato che sia, la sua orbita non arriva a santificare? Rosea e infuocata, saliva ora al di sopra di un'altura non lontana; mentre ne contemplavo l'ascesa splendente, la luna si schiarì, si fece d'oro e, in un momento, la vedemmo fluttuare in alto senza una macchia in un cielo ormai tranquillo.
Il sole vi splendeva, facendo della costa una sola lunga linea d'oro; il minuscolo disegno di una città fitta di case e di una torre scintillante di neve, di vasti boschi, di cime frastagliate, di pascoli distesi e di vene d'acqua era inciso sul panorama lucente come metallo. Sullo sfondo si stendeva un cielo solenne e di un profondo blu e, imponente della sua magnifica promessa, soffice di delicati colori, da nord a sud si imponeva l'arcobaleno teso da Dio, l'arco della speranza.