Musica noche de paz: Noche de Paz, Noche de Amor – Songs
¿Cuál es el origen de la canción “Noche de Paz”?
Singing Christmas carols in Berlin. (Photo by Michele Tantussi / Getty Images)
Dentro del extenso repertorio musical navideño destacan varias composiciones musicales, entre ellas la canción “Noche de paz”. Es muy famosa y popular a nivel mundial. Esta canción tiene un origen alemán y se compuso hace aproximadamente 200 años.
Se cuenta que una vez, en una “Noche de Paz”…
Joseph Mohr, sacerdote de la localidad de Oberndorf, pidió a un maestro de la escuela local, Franz Gruber, componer música para una canción que había escrito. En la Navidad de 1818, esta pieza fue interpretada por primera vez, ante el público de la Iglesia de San Nicolás. Mohr cantó y Gruber lo acompañó con los sonidos armónicos de su guitarra. Esa noche marcó la historia de estos dos personajes.
Los villancicos suelen cantarse en Nochebuena en las iglesias, acompañados de velas. (Foto de Ian Forsyth/ Getty Images)
“Stille Nacht” es el título original; trascendió a tal magnitud que terminó siendo declarada como “Patrimonio Intangible de la Humanidad” por parte de la UNESCO, en 2011.
La iglesia donde se cantó fue demolida a principios del siglo XX, después de sufrir una trágica inundación, pero quedó registrada como el primer recinto en presenciar este célebre villancico. Se construyó la “Capilla Memorial Noche de Paz” en homenaje al cura y al maestro, autores de esta melodía.
La canción ha sido traducida a más de 140 idiomas, reviviendo así cada año desde esa primera vez que se tocó y causando una enorme y bella impresión durante la temporada navideña.
“La canción Noche de Paz es un bello villancico, el cual narra cómo se siente la noche en la que nace el niño Jesús, todo lo que su nacimiento genera alrededor de él, la noche tan tranquila, tan serena; la tranquilidad tan solo de la música te puede transportar al momento del día de Navidad. En el coro de la iglesia se canta y la gente canta con nosotros por el gran significado que tiene esta canción”, dijo Mariela Rojas Salas, integrante del coro de la iglesia Purísima Concepción.
La versión original, en alemán, se llama ‘Stille Nacht’.
(Foto de Thomas Galler/ Unsplash.com)
“Ahora por las cuestiones de la pandemia no sabemos si se haga misa, pero en años anteriores, ‘Noche de Paz’ es infaltable en nuestro repertorio durante la celebración de la misa de gallo de navidad”, dijo Rojas Salas.
La congregación donde fue presentada la canción por primera vez se conformaba por muchos trabajadores, obreros, constructores de barcos y otros ansiosos por conocer la sorpresa que les tenía el sacerdote Mohr.
No se sabe cuál fue la inspiración de Mohr para componer los versos de esta canción, pero se cree que lo hizo en un par de horas.
Actualmente la canción tiene innumerables versiones y ha sido interpretada por los más grandes artistas. Así, ya sea en iglesias o en coros en centros comerciales, no hay duda de que esta melodía es un símbolo de la Navidad, y no hay quien no identifique su melodía.
(Editado por Melanie Slone y LuzMarina Rojas-Carhuas)
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Noche de Paz: El origen de la canción de Navidad más famosa del mundo
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“Noche de Paz” ha sido traducido a unos 200 idiomas.
El éxito mundial no estaba planeado: la canción surgió en medio de la desolación que había dejado una guerra de invasión.
Por el año 1815, las guerras contra la invasión de las tropas de Napoleón habían dejado hambre y devastación en los Alpes austriacos, más exactamente en Salzach, cerca de Oberndorf, frontera entre Baviera y Austria. Las inundaciones y las malas cosechas agravaban las dificultades.
Y para colmo de males, los ratones habían roído los fuelles del órgano de la iglesia de San Nicolás de Oberndorf. Nada parecía funcionar en esa Navidad.
Joseph Franz Mohr, un pastor auxiliar de 26 años, atravesó el campo nevado en la mañana de Nochebuena. Era 1818, y en un bolsillo encontró un trozo de papel con un poema que había escrito dos años antes: “Noche de paz, noche de amor”, en alemán “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht”.
Mohr acudió a su amigo, el profesor y organista Franz Xaver Gruber, y le pidió escribir una melodía para el texto en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, y a dos voces con acompañamiento de guitarra, ya que el órgano había sido dañado.
Por la tarde, justo a tiempo para la misa de Navidad, la obra estaba terminada.
Mohr cantó el tenor, Gruber tocó el bajo y los asistentes de la iglesia de San Nicolás de Oberndorf quedaron encantados. Esta canción le devolvió a los habitantes de la región lo que tras la guerra ya no creían que existiera: un mundo en paz y armonía. Este villancico fue consuelo y esperanza para las almas maltratadas por la invasión napoleónica.
Así, desde hace 204 Navidades esta canción, escrita originalmente en alemán, le da la vuelta al mundo. La familia de cantantes tiroleses Rainer se la cantó al zar ruso Alejandro I y al emperador austriaco Francisco I. En la que hoy es Alemania se estrenó en Leipzig en 1831. Ocho años después, en Nueva York.
Desde 2011, “Noche de paz” figura incluso en la Lista del Patrimonio Cultural Inmaterial de la Unesco.
Joseph Mohr no se enteró del entusiasmo mundial que generó con su villancico. Como hijo ilegítimo de una tejedora y de un mosquetero desertor, mandó a construir junto a la iglesia de Wagrain, su última estación como pastor, un refugio para los ancianos necesitados que -tras cumplir su tiempo de trabajo como peones- eran abandonados a su suerte y expulsados de la granja.
También construyó una escuela y vendió su vaca para pagar los libros de los niños. Cuando Mohr murió a los 56 años, fue enterrado en la tumba de uno de los indigentes que él socorría. Hoy en día, miles de turistas peregrinan anualmente a la capilla de la Noche de Paz de Oberndorf.
Hoy, este cántico sigue siendo un bálsamo para los habitantes de un mundo al parecer cada vez más inseguro, violento e injusto. Su letra y su música logran la magia de poner a los escuchas en un estado de reflexión, y por lo menos de reconciliación consigo mismos.
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..Night Music read online Jojo Moyes
Jojo Moyes
Night Music
Dedicated to Charles and everyone who has ever let builders into their home
And the dragon ate us all: with these obscenely huge houses, with this insatiable desire to possess, to possess always and in spite of everything, with this need to become an owner, or at least someone’s property.
D. H. Lawrence
We never felt that we belonged to a Spanish home. Although technically, I believe, we were the owners of this house, but ownership implies a certain level of control, but no one who knew us or our house had any idea that we could have any control over what happened there.
And despite what was written in the papers, we never felt that the house was rightfully ours. From the very beginning, he seemed to be too visible. We literally felt with our skin the dreams of other people striving for him, as well as waves of envy, distrust, desires penetrating through the walls. The history of the house was not our history. There was nothing—not even our dreams—to bind us to him. nine0009
When I was very young, I thought that a house was just a house. The place where we ate, played, quarreled and slept – in a word, four walls in which we tried to learn such a difficult task as life. And I didn’t really think about it.
Much later, I realized that the house – is something much more, that it can be the object of someone’s desires, a reflection of how these people see themselves and how they would like to see themselves, that he can push them to the most unseemly and shameful deeds. I realized that a house – just bricks, mortar, wood, perhaps a piece of land – can become an obsession.
nine0009
When I leave my home, I will rent a house.
1
Laura McCarthy closed the back door behind her, stepped over a sleeping dog that was peacefully drooling on the gravel, and strode vigorously across the garden toward the gate. With difficulty holding the loaded tray with one hand, she opened the gate and, nimbly slipping through the opening, went deep into the forest, and then went down to the stream, which, as always, dried up again by the end of summer.
One, two, and she’s already crossed the footbridge that Matt threw over the creek a year ago. True, it will rain soon, which means the boards will again become treacherously slippery. Last year, she fell off them several times, and once the entire contents of the tray were in the water, a real feast for the invisible inhabitants of the stream. Having crossed to the other side, she, ignoring the liquid mud stuck to her soles, headed towards the lawn. nine0003
The still warm evening sun shrouded the valley in fine golden dust.
Somewhere ahead, a thrush flashed, the starlings screamed piercingly, flying up into the sky in a dark cloud and again descending on the trees in a neighboring grove. Laura adjusted the lid on one of the pots, from which came such a thick and tasty tomato spirit that the woman involuntarily quickened her pace and hurried to the house.
The house was not always so dilapidated, so inexcusably gloomy. Matt’s father told him of hunters gathering on the lawns, of summer evenings when music floated from the white tents and smartly dressed couples perched on the stone balustrade, drinking punch, their laughter drowned in the thick foliage. Matt still remembered the days when shiny horses kicked in the stables, some of which were kept solely for the entertainment of weekend guests, and there was a boathouse on the shore of the lake, especially for rowing enthusiasts. Once upon a time, Matt often told her these stories, as if wanting to equate life there with the one she was used to in her parents’ house, and promising in the future to compensate her for everything she left behind.
Perhaps in this way he wanted to paint their future. She loved these stories. She knew exactly what the house would look like if her time came. There was not a window that she did not mentally drape, or a piece of the floor that she would not cover with new carpet. And she knew exactly what kind of lake view opens from every window on the east side of the house. nine0003
Laura stopped at the side door and, purely out of habit, reached into her pocket for the key. At one time, the door was constantly locked, but now there is no need for this, because everyone knew very well: there was at least a rolling ball in the house. The house was lopsided and the paint peeled off, as if ashamed to speak of the glorious past of the walls it had once covered. The cladding fell off, it was replaced with assorted boards. There was almost no gravel left on the path, and the paths themselves were overgrown with nettles, which mercilessly burned the caviar.
– Mr. Pottisworth, it’s me… Laura.
She listened. nine0003
A hoarse growl came from above. Laura informed the old man of her arrival solely as a safety net. The lintel still held traces of gunpowder as evidence of her forgetfulness. Fortunately, as her husband used to say, the old scoundrel was blind.
– I brought your lunch.
Waiting for an answering grunt, she climbed the creaky stairs.
Being in the prime of life, she hardly needed a break after several flights of stairs, and yet she stopped for a second in front of the master bedroom door. But then, plucking up courage, she touched the doorknob with a sigh. nine0003
The window was ajar, but already from the threshold a disgusting scent of an unwashed senile body, mixed with musty smells of dusty furniture, camphor and dried beeswax, hit her in the nose. There was an old gun leaning against the head of the bed, and on a small table was the color TV they had bought him two years ago. And yet, in spite of years of desolation that prevailed here, elegant proportions and graceful bay windows gave the room an amazing grandeur.
Although visitors, as a rule, rarely managed to appreciate its aesthetic merits. nine0003
“You’re late,” said a man lying on a carved mahogany bed.
“Only for a few minutes,” Laura replied with mock nonchalance. She set the tray down on the bedside table and straightened up. “I didn’t manage to free myself right away. Mom called.
— And what did she want? Didn’t you tell her that I’m alone here and starving?
Laura answered him with a faint smile:
— Mr. Pottisworth, believe it or not, we have other things to talk about besides you. nine0003
– I bet you are talking about Matt. Like what else is on his mind. She must have called to tell you that you had a misalliance, didn’t she?
Laura turned to her tray. If her back was a little tense, Mr. Pottisworth hardly noticed it.
“I have been married for eighteen years,” she said. “And I don’t think my marriage is hot news.
Loud sniffling came from the bed.
— What do you have there? I bet everything is cold.
nine0003
– Chicken casserole with potatoes. And not at all cold. She was covered.
— I bet she’s cooled down already. Lunch was definitely cold.
— There was a salad for lunch.
A pigmented head covered with sparse gray hair appeared from under the blanket. Two narrowed snake eyes stared at Laura.
— Why do you need such tight pants? Are you going to show me your charms?
– These are jeans. Everyone is walking like this now. nine0003
– You want to turn me on, that’s all. You want me to burn with desire, you want to finish me off with these womanly things of yours. Black widow, that’s what they call women like you. Someone who, but I know for sure.
She ignored his remark.
— I brought you some brown potato sauce. Put on the edge of the plate?
– I see all your bulges.
— Or is grated cheese better?
– Through your T-shirt. I see great. Are you trying to seduce me? nine0003
– Mr. Pottisworth, if you don’t stop being naughty, I won’t bring you lunch anymore.
Never. And stop staring at my… bulges. Now.
– Then don’t you dare wear see-through bras. In my time, self-respecting women wore shirts. Yes, yes, thin cotton shirts. He propped himself up on the pillows, arthritic hands moving in time with the memory. – True, no, but I promise you pleasure.
Laura McCarthy turned her back on the old man and counted to ten. She surreptitiously examined the T-shirt, trying to figure out if the bra really showed through so well. Last week, the old man told her that his eyesight was failing. nine0003
– You sent me lunch with that boy of yours. So it was impossible to get a word out of him.
The old man began to eat. And the room was immediately filled with smacking sounds, as if somewhere nearby the sewer was clogged.
– Well, teenagers are not very talkative.
– Rude. That’s who he is. You must tell him.
“Certainly,” she replied.
She circled the room, stacking glasses and mugs on an empty tray.
— I get so lonely during the day. Unless Byron comes in after lunch, but he only knows how to trend about his damned hedges and rabbits. nine0003
— I’ve already said that social services can come to you. Well, we would tidy up here a little, chat with you. Even every day if you want.
“Social Service,” he grimaced, a thin trickle of sauce running down his chin. “I don’t want these scumbags sticking their noses into my business.
– As you please.
“You don’t understand, I’m alone like a finger, and it’s so hard…” he started his hurdy-gurdy, and Laura began to habitually think about her own.
She knew by heart the whole long list of his troubles: no one understands how unbearable it is to live without a family, to be bedridden and completely helpless, at the mercy of strangers … She heard variations on this theme so many times that she could continue this long one for him speech.
– After all, such an unfortunate old man like me has no one, only you and Matt.
And there is no one to pass on all of my own, personally, I have not needed good for a long time … You can’t even imagine how hard it is to be so lonely. He dropped to a whisper and looked like he was about to burst into tears. nine0003
She immediately softened:
— I already told you: you are not alone. At least as long as we live next door.
– You will not be deprived when I am gone. You do know, don’t you? The furniture in the barn will be yours after my death.
– Mr. Pottisworth, you mustn’t say that.
– And that’s not all, because I’m a man of my word. And I won’t forget what you did for me all these years. He glanced at the tray. What is this, my rice pudding?
– No, this is a wonderful apple charlotte.
The old man put down his knife and fork:
— But today is Tuesday.
– Well, I decided to make charlotte. I ran out of pudding rice and didn’t get to go to the supermarket.
– I don’t like charlotte.
– No, love.
– I bet you had a lot of fun in my apple orchard. – (Laura took a deep breath.) – You’re only pretending to be so nice. And in general, you lie all the time to get what you really want. nine0003
“I bought apples at the supermarket,” Laura said through clenched teeth.
– You said yourself that you couldn’t get out there.
– I bought them three days ago.
— Then I don’t know why you couldn’t buy some pudding rice at the same time. Imagine what your hubby thinks of you. Sounds like you’re pleasing him in a very different way. He grinned lasciviously through wet lips, and for a second she saw his jaws sink into the chicken casserole. nine0003
By the time her husband arrived, Laura had already finished washing the dishes and was now at the ironing board, furiously steaming and smoothing the collars and cuffs of his shirts.
— Is everything all right, my love? Matt McCarthy leaned over to kiss his wife and immediately noticed her glowing cheeks, her chin stubbornly pushed forward.
— No, nothing in hell is right! Enough for me.
He took off his work jacket with pockets hanging from the tools and casually threw it on the back of a chair. Matt was very tired, and the thought that he had to calm Laura brought him to extreme annoyance. nine0003
“Mr. P was staring at her tits,” Anthony grinned.
The son was sitting with his feet on the coffee table, and the father, passing by, carelessly pushed them with his hand.
— Did he really do it? Matt tensed. – I’ll have to go to him, say a couple of affectionate …
Laura in her hearts slammed the iron:
– Yes, sit down, don’t flicker, for heaven’s sake! You know him. In any case, it’s something else. He drives me back and forth like his personal servant. Every single day. And this time I’m fed up. Really fed up. nine0003
Realizing that the old man would not leave her behind, she returned home for canned rice pudding and, cursing to herself, walked through the forest again to the big house with a bowl covered with a tea towel.
“Cold,” he said, touching the pudding with his finger.
– But no. I warmed it up literally ten minutes ago.
– Cold.
– Well, Mr. Pottisworth, if you have to carry food from another house, then it is strange to expect it to be piping hot. nine0003
He pursed his lips disapprovingly with a peevish expression:
— That’s it, nothing is needed. No appetite. He glared at Laura. It did not escape his attention that her cheek twitched. In the meantime, she wondered for a moment whether it was possible to kill a man with a kitchen tray and a dessert spoon. – Leave the pudding here. Maybe I’ll eat it later. He folded his thin arms across his chest. When there is no other way out.
“Mom says she’s going to call social services,” Anthony said. – He thinks they can handle it. nine0003
Matt, who had already settled down on the couch next to his son, had an alarm going off in his head.
Don’t be stupid. They will immediately assign him to the almshouse.
— So what? Have someone else take care of him, check his non-existent bedsores, wash his sheets, and spoon-feed him twice a day. Very well!
Matt, feeling a sudden surge of strength, immediately jumped to his feet:
— He has no money. No shit. They’ll make him give them a house to pay for their services, won’t they? Woman, turn your head! nine0003
Laura turned abruptly towards him. She was a beautiful woman, slender and very agile at almost forty, but now her face, twisted and flushed, was exactly like that of an offended child.
– I don’t care! I repeat, Matt, I’m fed up.
He quickly stepped towards her and hugged her:
— Come on, baby. Not today, tomorrow, he’ll be screwed.
“Nine years, Matt,” she said, burying herself in his chest. “I have been running errands for him for nine years. When we settled here, you said he wouldn’t last a year. nine0003
— And think of all those lovely acres, the walled garden, the stable. Think of the beautiful dining room you so desire.
Think of us, a happy family, on the threshold of this house. He gave free rein to the fantasy, trying to awaken her imagination. “Well, listen, the old sinner is bedridden. It melts not by the day, but by the hour. It certainly won’t last long, will it? And who else does he have besides us? Matt kissed the top of his wife’s head. “We’ll get a loan, and I’ve already asked Sven to make plans for the redevelopment. If you want, I’ll show you later. nine0003
– Well, mom. Since this is the case, you can occasionally show him your boobs. Will get away from you, right? Anthony chuckled, but shut up as soon as he got hit in the ear with a freshly washed T-shirt.
“Just a little more,” Matt said ingratiatingly. – All right, my love. Go to him a little more, huh?
She obviously softened, and he realized that he had the upper hand over her.
He squeezed her waist, his fingers as if hinting that some more intimate compensation awaited her later in the evening. He felt the return shake of her hand and bitterly regretted that, before driving home, he made a call to the left, to the barmaid from the Long Whistle.
May you die sooner, you old scoundrel! he mentally wished Mr. Pottisworth. And I won’t last long. nine0003
And in the big house not far from McCarthy’s, in the master bedroom, an old man was watching a comedy program, snorting with laughter. But as the credits rolled, he glanced at his watch and tossed the newspaper at the foot of the bed.
An owl was hooting outside the window, and in the distance a fox was yapping, it must have been guarding the hole. Whether humans or animals, they’ve all been striving to stake out their territory since time immemorial, he thought blankly. Laura McCarthy, with her twice-daily dinners, fussing with clean linen, and everything else, is no better than that same vixen. Both somehow mark their piece of land. nine0003
He suddenly had a terrible craving for chocolate. With an unexpected agility that would have obviously surprised his neighbors, he got out of bed and padded across the room to the sideboard, where he hid goodies – sweets and various goodies.
He specially gave money for them to Byron, and from time to time he brought them from the store. Opening the doors, the old man fumbled for a long time behind books and folders until he found smooth cellophane wrappers. His tenacious fingers grasped what looked like a KitKat; he was already anticipating the taste of melting chocolate in his mouth and was wondering if it was worth putting on false teeth for such a thing. nine0003
But first he closed the buffet doors. Laura doesn’t need to know, he thought. Let him consider him a helpless invalid. Women of her type just need to feel needed. With a satisfied smirk, he remembered how the tips of her ears turned red when he noticed her skinny jeans. She was extremely easy to turn on. The most pleasant, one might say, the climax of his dull day. Tomorrow, perhaps, it is worth going over her riding, like she does it solely for the thrill, because such remarks always hit her to the quick. nine0003
Still smiling foolishly, the old man walked back and suddenly heard the background music for his other favorite show.
He raised his head. And, carried away by the music, he did not notice a bowl of frozen rice pudding on the floor, exactly in the place where he himself had placed it. He stepped on the pudding with his old bony heel, slipped and fell to the ground.
At least, this is how the coroner, bit by bit reconstructing the last hours of Samuel Pottisworth’s life, presented the case in court. His head must have hit the floor with such a crash that the noise could have been heard on the ground floor. But as Mrs. McCarthy rightly noted, the forest absorbs all sounds, and therefore many things go unnoticed. After all, anything can happen in a place like this. nine0003
“Night Music” reviews and reader reviews of the book📖author Jojo Moyes, book rating – MyBook.
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org/BreadcrumbList”> 9000 9000 quite young, I could not understand the attachment of people to some place, and even more so to a particular house. Just think, I thought, to change the place of residence or apartment – is this a problem ?! On the contrary, it’s great: new impressions, improved living conditions (well, or just the opportunity to start all over again), other people, renewed feelings … Yes, but not so. nine0307 Now I understand what roots are and how difficult it is to settle down in a new place.
And it’s good when the changes are really for the better.
And if it’s like this, as in the novel “Night Music”?
When one has to leave a well-fed and prosperous life for a dilapidated house (and this is just happiness, because this inheritance fell on their heads very timely, otherwise the family of Isabella Delancey after the death of her husband would simply have nowhere to go!). When the music that the First Violin of the London Symphony Orchestra lives on is forced to recede into the background, and the stupid, vulgar, worldly truth comes to the fore – where to get money and how to continue to live ?! nine0307 Isabella is absolutely not adapted to life. She is impossibly spoiled by her late husband (although, as it turned out, he was not an impeccable family man).
Honestly, this woman is rather annoying: her fifteen-year-old daughter looks smarter and more practical than her own mother, the problems of her little son are alarming and frightening, and she does not want to see anything and trusts everyone around.
It just seems to me that this is not from naivety and kindness of heart, but from the inability to think and make decisions. nine0307 And yet, the book is simply mesmerizing.
Another fairy tale. Another family secret. Another beautiful love story. And wonderful children.
Somehow I really want to live there, in the house by the Lake. I want this wild nature, which is obedient to you, if you have certain knowledge. Good and sincere friends who will nevertheless warn you in time about human dishonesty. And music… Which is beautiful, which is plentiful and which is able to reconcile and please many.
A good book, though not “wow”. There are plenty of mysteries and secrets. And kindness. And humanity. nine0307 But there is little snot – for this I love Moyes.
August 3, 2015
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Fari22
Assessed the book
“I realized that the house is just bricks, lime mortar, wood, possibly a pill of earth – may become an obsession”
Jojo Moes Moes Moys my favorite. For me, she has long become a symbol of high-quality female prose. Maybe not all of her novels can be added to the list of favorites, but it cannot be denied that Moyes masterfully owns the word and each of her novels is interesting in its own way, they do not slide into primitive and vulgarity. Of course, none of her novels can compare with “Me Before You”, but the novel “Night Music” did not disappoint and is worth reading. I really enjoyed reading this novel, although it cannot be called intriguing, the plot is quite banal and predictable, but the atmosphere of the novel, and the story itself, was to my liking. A light, summer romance with which you can relax your soul. There are no emotional experiences here, because of which the reader will be in constant tension, although there are some moments that will not leave you indifferent and will make you empathize with the characters. As always, there is love, friendship, family secrets. nine0003
Events unfold in a small village near London. The main character of the novel, Isabella, inherits a house that everyone calls “Spanish”. After the death of her husband, she and her two children decide to move from London to Little Burton, where their new house is located, in a completely deplorable state. But the builder Matt, who dreamed of getting it since childhood, as well as Nicholas Trent, who dreams of building a luxurious village on the site of the Spanish House, have views of this house. Who will get the house in the end, and what will the heroes be willing to do to achieve their goal? nine0003
All of Moyes’ novels are mostly about love, about relationships, but in this novel this theme is rather in the background, and domestic problems are in the foreground, which explains the presence of many detailed descriptions of construction work. To some, this may seem like a boring and unnecessary detail of the novel, I must admit, the novel sins with the presence of unnecessary dialogues, events without which one could do without. This is not the kind of novel in which events develop rapidly, and you can’t call it saturated. But this part did not seem boring to me at all, on the contrary, it was interesting to find out if it would be possible to improve the house. But Moyes’ love line turned out, oddly enough, faded, incomprehensible. First, the main character, a year after the death of her husband, completely excludes the idea that she could ever fall in love again, but as soon as she moves to the village, she rushes at a married man (what is most interesting, she does not feel any remorse about this , she is tormented only by the fact that she betrayed the memory of her deceased husband), then to another villager. On the one hand, the plus of the novel is that there is almost no description of the love line. But reading some moments, it seemed that the characters were overacting too much, some kind of theatricality was felt in this. nine0003
You can talk about the main character for hours, but if you describe her in one word, I would choose the word – FOOL! Isabella is the main minus of the novel. It seems that she is positioned as a positive character, but she begins to annoy literally from the first pages. A woman forever flying in the clouds, who cares about only one person – herself. She is absolutely not interested in children, her child was silent for a whole year, and she didn’t care. She laid all the problems around the house on the shoulders of her fifteen-year-old daughter, and she herself all the time indulged in grief for her husband and played her violin. A stupid, selfish woman who doesn’t want to see any problems. I just wanted to hit her on the head with something heavy. Maybe after that she would start to think. True, when she suddenly became a desperate housewife, hunter, plumber – I did not believe it at all. nine0003
But not only Isabella is a fool in the novel, there is also her neighbor Laura. Her final act caused bewilderment and anger. How could you do that? Is it really possible not to love yourself enough to allow you to continue to mock yourself? And for what?
But what Moyes does best is male characters and children. They turned out to be real, you really believe them: Byron is silent, kind, although what he did at the end, in my opinion, was stupid and reckless. Matt is a domestic tyrant who does not consider the feelings of others. But, most of all I liked in the novel Cousins. Remarkably, sometimes children seemed smarter than many adults, Thierry was especially pleased. nine0003
The main theme of the novel is the housing problem, which spoiled not only Muscovites, but apparently the British as well. It shows what people are ready to go for the sake of property, for the sake of simply owning a house. Of all Moyes’ novels, this is the most everyday and vital, although there is a fairy tale here. To some, the finale may seem crumpled, against the backdrop of all the detailed repair descriptions. And everything seems to me quite clear and logical. There are no omissions, and the novel leaves no questions behind.
One of the advantages of the novel is that Moyes describes not only the state of mind of a person, but also nature. I would like to visit such a village with a lake, especially now in the summer. Moyes did not disappoint, everything is written in the best traditions of her novels. The novel is not too emotional, but leaves food for thought. The novel is light, airy and written in a pleasant language, I think it is worth saying thanks to the translator for being able to accurately convey her style. nine0003
Everyone dreams of their own house, of how they will furnish it. Each house has a soul, its own character. After all, the house is not just bricks, the house is the place where your family and your heart are. And the most important message of the book is not to lose heart, because always after a dark streak in life, a bright one begins.
My Rating : 8/10
June 18, 2016
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LeRoRiYa
Rated the book
This is the third book I read,
900 The first was “Me Before You” (review), followed by “Silver Bay” – a review – read, as well as “Night Music” in the framework of the “Open Book”, only earlier. nine0003
So, “Night Music”.
Imagine a provincial village in England. Around the forest, peace, silence, beautiful views of the lake and the inhabitants, each of which hides a skeleton in the closet. When I met Samuel Pottisworth, Laura and Matt McCarthy, and Nicholas Trent, although he is not from this village, I was haunted by the obsessive thought “Welcome to Pagford.” Remember such a “cute” town from the work of JK Rowling’s “Random Vacancy”? I remember I said that in that book I did not meet a single more or less positive character. It was the same with these at first. But Isabella Delancey and her family, as well as Assad and Henry, Byron, Anthony, dispelled these impressions. nine0307 The stumbling block in this book is the Spanish House, where several generations of the Pottisworth family lived. Laura McCarthy and her husband Matt, a builder, dream of owning this house, rebuilding it in their own way and building a truly strong family nest in it. For the sake of this, Laura has been caring for the nasty old man Samuel Pottisworth for nine years, but it wasn’t there: the old man’s cousin Isabella Delancey, a famous and very talented violinist from London, will inherit the house.
Isabella, who recently lost her husband, her daughter Kitty and son Thierry did not make the decision to move easily. Isabella, like many talented people, is immersed in her work and little adapted to life, and now she is also heartbroken, but she has no choice. She arrives at the Spanish House, unaware of how many vultures here dream of him…
Laura and Matt McCarthy, not going to give up on their goal.
The once very successful businessman, developer and realtor Nicholas Trent (he could once sell ice to the Eskimos), burned to the bone and dreaming of getting a building plot and building eight amazing cottages on the site of the Spanish house….
And also the ghosts of the past , who do not want to let Isabella go and a utterly unexpected future…
And the music, the meaning of her life, the music that soothes the soul…
The finale amazed me to the limit. nine0003
August 17, 2015
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littleworm
Rated the book
I sort of volunteered to save this book from oblivion. It’s funny, of course. It has already received excellent reviews.
Therefore, let me drown it a little. Slightly, since as a whole I liked the novel.
Light story of human relationships, friendships, family, romantic, sometimes tense or openly conflicting. And despite not all this, I would not call any of the participants in these relations the main character of the novel. nine0307 The main, central and main one is HOUSE .
Spanish house, typical of eclecticism from negligent owners, overgrown with junk on the shore of a wonderful lake.
This house is inherited. And when a freebie falls on your head, this is not a reason to shout “hurray” and praise heaven for a generous gift. It would not be bad to examine this gift first. But the heroine is not distinguished by a special mind and ingenuity. Therefore, having raised the sails, he rushes to live far away in the wilderness, taking with him the unfortunate children. nine0307 So she annoyed me all the way.
It was because of her that I began to have an obsessive thought “to drown the book in a wonderful lake.”
Not only does she play the violin at night, driving the neighbors into depression. She also slows down with terrible force. And how can you fall in love with her?
She even ate me with household goods.
A big minus for the author, it was completely superfluous to go into detailed descriptions of shopping trips, hunting, agricultural work and house cleaning. Yearning.
But the book is not about that at all…
It is about the struggle for property, about how terribly the housing problem spoils people and how wildly they crave a positive answer, forgetting about everything in the world.
The result is quite predictable – the greed ruined the fraer. And long live love and justice. *in a whisper* this only happens in a book, such as Allen, Flagg, etc. write.
The final matches the genre. Though not without intrigue and understatement.
Nice, easy… for summer.
I’m sure the novel will please many. nine0307 Especially if the reader is not afraid of excessive detail.
July 29, 2015
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anjuta0212
Rated the book
The plot is simple: a violinist inherits a huge, decrepit house in the countryside with her children, and renovates it. If sadness suddenly overtakes her, she takes out her violin, climbs out onto the roof, and scares away all the deer in the neighborhood with classical music.
What you will find in this book:
– Naughty adults with their 18+ thoughts and actions
– A couple of gay black old men
– Lots of nature (forest, lake, birds chirping, mmmm)
– And…. Animal cruelty. If you are not ready to read about how cutlets are made from a fluffy rabbit, then take note.
It is very difficult to sum up and rate the book. The fact is that I don’t even have anything to get to the bottom of, it seems that I liked everything, everything, and it was interesting to read . .. but there was no “wow”. I did not have a single negative emotion (which usually develops into a 2/5 rating), but at the same time I did not choke on a rainbow of delight. Neutral emotions, neutral rating. nine0003
At the same time, I definitely recommend reading the book! Especially to all Moyes fans. Here you have Santa Barbara, and life in a small village, and music, and repairs (whoever had to wash their hair in a bucket will understand). If you like to spend time outside the city, meet sunrises and see off sunsets to the singing of birds, you will definitely like it!
August 4, 2015
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Love
Rated the book
I love the books of Jojo Moeys. Her stories “take to the soul.” But this book seemed boring to me. And the ending disappointed me. Somehow compressed, crumpled. It gives the impression that the author is tired of writing this book or his imagination has run out. nine0003
August 14, 2015
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Rated the book
How I love the books of this writer! Starting with the first “Before I Meet You” that fell into my hands, and ending with this book, each time I plunge headlong into the life and unexpected turns of the fate of the main characters, as if into my own. How much Hope is in these books, how much love for life in all its manifestations, how much faith in goodness and in people. And all this is twisted and wrapped up in inexhaustible interesting stories, each time different. This book was no exception and I really enjoyed this story. nine0003
May 16, 2016
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lacri…@mail.ru
Rated the book
This book made me look at many things with different eyes and taught me to appreciate everything that we take for granted.. Strong plot, emotions over the edge as always! Breaking away for a minute from the pages of this masterpiece, I seemed to emerge from the ocean, from the picture that my consciousness painted! A good book and imagination is what you need for a good time! Thanks to the author for another great novel! Bravo! nine0003
August 11, 2016
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Rated the book
I liked the book, and I don’t think it’s superficial, boring or like a boulevard novel! it, like all books by this author, has a deep meaning, which you just need to be able to reveal when reading! For me, it lies in the fact that the main wealth is our close relatives who are alive, healthy and faithful to us, and not material values, which, like the Spanish house, can collapse like a house of cards!
July 9, 2016
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Rated the book
I have read more than one book by this writer.