I expected more complexity here, I expected a woman ahead of her times. She wanted attention, she wanted to shine and she wanted to remain herself. Go for it, Daisy!
But constant babbling about nothing and batting your eyelashes or forbidden forays to mark your independence not especially spoke to me. Maybe I look at the novel from the wrong angle, too contemporary, through the times when young unmarried girl on the tryst with handsome foreigner is nothing that scandalous, at least in most countries.
Perhaps if I have changed a perspective I could admit her actions being more brave than frivolous? I was looking at her like at rare colourful specimen by some unfortunate accident wrongly placed and not like a person who was to herald a modern and self-aware woman. And I find it highly ironic if not tragic too. View all 15 comments. Qui se passes ses fantaisies She does what she wishes. Daisy Miller, published in brought Henry Miller his first success. The short novela 72 pages casts an eye of societal norms of the day.
Told through the eyes of a fellow American but raised in Geneva, Winterbourne is charmed by the open spirited Daisy Miller, who is traveling in Europe with her mother and nine-year brother, Randolph. This is a book about class, elitism, snobbery and money. The Millers have enough money for part of t Qui se passes ses fantaisies The Millers have enough money for part of the family to see Europe the father stays home to make enough for him to travel later.
Daisy, who is use to flirting at social parties in America, is bored and wants to experience Europe. First Winterbourne, then an Italian Giovanelli. Boating on Lake Geneva, then outings in Rome. Gossip and elders who knew better.
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A recipe for disaster? Is Daisy free spirited? A little tart?
What kind of family does she come from? Obviously not classy enough. Henry James does not lecture morals, only reflects the times. One can infer a lot in this book. View all 14 comments. It's so hard, when you are a pretty young lady, to find any old closeted priggish gentlemen to warn you that you're about to die of flirting. And y'know when books like this get written - books where women do what they want and are punished for it - there's always this, like, "But you can see that his sympathy lies with the woman" argument, right?
Peopl It's so hard, when you are a pretty young lady, to find any old closeted priggish gentlemen to warn you that you're about to die of flirting. People want to say the author is trying to undermine the constraints put on women, by showing how sad it is when a vivacious young lady gets beaten down.
Surely Daisy Miller herself is the only even faintly likable character in this book, isn't she? Isn't the narrator, Winterbourne, just a dreadful little tightassed shit? All he does is, like, "She's so naughty! And yet I want her! But yet - she's so naughty! The closest he gets to horny is pointing out that she has a cute little nose. Winterbourne sniffs of one that he's "anything but a gentleman; he isn't even a very plausible imitation of one.
ISBN 13: 9782012251908
Hardy's always throwing these wild dramatic scenes in epic settings. Of course James doesn't have any idea what to do once he gets all his characters there - Henry James wouldn't know a dramatic scene if it gave him a handjob in a dark alley - so they all just sortof lurk about and then go home. Winterbourne feels shocked about her judgment. Daisy is soon to feel something else. That's Cybill Shepherd looking sassy there "I've never allowed a gentleman to dictate to me or to interfere with anything I do," says Daisy, and do you feel excitement or dread when she says it?
Henry James is a subtle and careful writer, and it's like him to leave it murky whose side he's on. Maybe it's judgey old Winterbourne who's naughty! But here's my thing: I do think we should maybe admit that there are a lot of these books, and surely all of the writers can't be trying to undermine, right?
Or else what would they even be undermining? The most seriously subversive books up above were written by women. And in any case books have characters but they also have plots, and plots matter. That old asshole Philip Roth used to say, "The thought of the novelist lies not in the remarks of his characters or even in their introspection, but in the plight he has invented for his characters.
What comes for Daisy Miller? She catches malaria at the Colosseum - Rome was just lousy with malaria at the time, so being there at night actually was a little dumb - and she dies. Murdered by flirting! And just as a general rule: if you're wondering who's naughty, look for who's getting spanked.
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Feb 01, Stephen P rated it really liked it Recommended to Stephen by: Kalliope spurred on this review that was never to be. Shelves: henry-james. Ah Daisy.
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What to do with you. You scuttle about this novel innocent, coquettish, a young pretty American in a foreign land.
Neither to James or to me. Even your name sounds fresh, innocent.
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Of course the narrator is too stiff for you, caught in his own web of threaded conce Ah Daisy. Of course the narrator is too stiff for you, caught in his own web of threaded concealments barricaded against the throb of his own heart. A lingering phantasm. And about James? He is a well known author you know.
You were in good hands. Set down debutant-ish, and through your naivety and good looks much was to happen to and for you. Faites-nous plaisir, descendez de ce train, vous en prendrez un plus tard, et allons boire un verre au buffet de la gare. Si vous en avez assez du gris-de-Toul, on trouvera bien autre chose. Un si discret merci… pourquoi? Vamos Caballero, un abrazo, y vaya con Dios. Top chrono! Prenez soin de vous. Bien affectueusement. Merci Gus!
Comment dire…? Quoi dire…? Je ne voulais pas partir sur la pointe des pieds sans dire merci. Encore merci. Au revoir.
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