Sul Guardian un estratto del nuovo libro di Jonathan Franzen, The Discomfort Zone: A Personal History
Una storia autobiografica e familiare
After Jonathan Franzen’s mother died, he was faced with the job of selling the family home – but could he fulfil her expectations? The acclaimed author of The Corrections reflects on real estate, the agonies of adolescence and the cost of letting go of the past
Ecco un assaggio
In the days after the memorial service, as my brothers and I went from room to room and handled things, I came to feel that the house had been my mother’s novel, the concrete story she told about herself. She’d started with the cheap, homely department-store boilerplate she’d bought in 1944. She’d added and replaced various passages as funds permitted, re-upholstering sofas and armchairs, accumulating artwork ever less awful than the prints she’d picked up as a twenty-three-year-old, abandoning her original arbitrary color schemes as she discovered and refined the true interior colors that she carried within her like a destiny. She pondered the arrangement of paintings on a wall like a writer pondering commas. She sat in the rooms year after year and asked herself what might suit her even better. What she wanted was for you to come inside and feel embraced and delighted by what she’d made; she was showing you herself, by way of hospitality; she wanted you to want to stay.