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Download Amsterdam ePub

by I. Mak'yuzn

Download Amsterdam ePub
  • ISBN 5699373853
  • ISBN13 978-5699373857
  • Language Russian
  • Author I. Mak'yuzn
  • Publisher Eksmo (2009)
  • Formats docx azw txt mbr
  • Category Mystery and Suspense
  • Subcategory Thrillers and Suspense
  • Size ePub 1221 kb
  • Size Fb2 1605 kb
  • Rating: 4.6
  • Votes: 590

7. Amsterdam has a marked absence of monuments or state buildings; Mak refers to this as its anti-monumentalism, and he considers it characteristic of the city's undemonstrative psyche, not just a function of confused civic planning processes. The number of monumental buildings in Amsterdam dating from the nineteenth century can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

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Amsterdam, with its tabloid frenzy and poisoned champagne glasses, honors a venerable British tradition that numbers Stevenson, Saki, Hitchcock, among others. McEwan is an amazing artist, and Amsterdam is an amazing book. Thoughtful, urbane, and plot-drive. . Sardonic, polished, and deadpan hilarious. Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

Having just visited Amsterdam I am finding this book fascinating. The author writes well and uses stories usually based on archeological finds, artifacts or paintings etc. to tell the story of this remarkable city.

to bring Amsterdam into the modern age. This he does with wit and style. Having just visited Amsterdam I am finding this book fascinating.

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Amsterdam Mak, Geert Random House 9781860467899 : A magnet for trade and travellers from all over the world, cosmopolitan Amsterdam is a city not only of dreams and nightmares, of.Amsterdam, Mak, Geert. Варианты приобретения.

Amsterdam Mak, Geert Random House 9781860467899 : A magnet for trade and travellers from all over the world, cosmopolitan Amsterdam is a city not only of dreams and nightmares, of grand civic. Кол-во: Наличие: Поставка под заказ. Есть в наличии на складе поставщика.

The American Book Center, Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Amsterdam is a 1998 novel by British writer Ian McEwan, for which he was awarded the 1998 Booker Prize. At the funeral of photographer and writer Molly Lane, three of Molly's former lovers converge.

Imagine: you arrive in Amsterdam and realise with horror you have left your book at home! How will you pass the quiet afternoons in the sunshine, lounging on river banks and sipping espresso?

American Book Center in Amsterdam is conveniently located at the Spui 12, just next to the Begijnhof entry and not far from the Bonneterie .

American Book Center in Amsterdam is conveniently located at the Spui 12, just next to the Begijnhof entry and not far from the Bonneterie and Kalvertoren. It has moved only in 2006 to its present location in the three hundred years old building with a long tradition, where among others centuries ago Metz Company, Amsterdam most luxurious department store has been located. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday

Talk about Amsterdam

This is the first Ian McEwan novel I’ve read. It’s masterfully written. McEwan is brilliant across the board – delightful language, plot, characters and anything else you could want in a novel. No wonder this won the 1998 Booker Prize. At a few points in the story, he shifts forward in time, calling attention to something in the plot that has already happened, without actually spilling the beans. This technique does just what it’s supposed to do. It creates in you, the reader, this drive to figure out what that thing was that has happened between the characters, that thing that McEwan has kept to himself.

I have a music background. One of the characters is a composer, and McEwan devotes a good deal of time and attention to the process of writing a major orchestral work. Very nicely done.

If you’ve not read this, you should.
Often long-established authors, having been overlooked several times, end up being decorated for their lesser works, and in the case of Amsterdam, for which Ian McEwan won the Man Booker Prize, this pattern holds true. Not that Amsterdam is a bad book, but when I compare it to McEwan's best - Atonement, of course, along with Black Dogs and Enduring Love - it doesn't quite reach those same heights.

Nonetheless, it is hard not to admire the way McEwan writes. While managing to be as urgently postmodern in his style and themes as any other contemporary writer, McEwan pays great attention to the intricacies of plot and character. There is no navel-gazing in Ian McEwan's novels, which always have at their center some motivating event or other that, like a stone being dropped into a still pool of water, sends a series of waves rippling through the rest of the plot - the discovery of the corpse in The Innocent, the balloon accident at the beginning of Enduring Love, the false accusation of Robbie in Atonement, and so on.

Although the death of Molly Lane at the beginning of Amsterdam appears set to follow this same pattern, it is not the central event. Instead, her death brings together two of her former lovers, the composer Clive Linley and the newspaper editor Vernon Halliday. Rather than a single event, McEwan provides his two main characters with two moments that have broader consequences: for Clive, his failure to intervene in a possible rape so that he can grasp hold of a moment of musical inspiration; for Vernon, his decision to publish front-page pictures of Julian Garmony, a right-wing politician who was also a former lover of Molly's, dressed as a woman.

McEwan draws Clive and Vernon together first as friends and then, when circumstances turn against them, as enemies out to destroy each other. This pattern bears a strong resemblance to what happens to Bernard and June Tremaine, the husband and wife in Black Dogs who, having been drawn together by their Communist ideals, have their marriage torn apart by deep philosophical disagreements. Amsterdam and Black Dogs are both intended by McEwan, it seems to me, to be documents of their time, a summary judgment of the failures of the twentieth century as it draws to a close.

Like Bernard and June, Clive and Vernon are given opposing perspectives on the world - highbrow and lowbrow, artistic and commercial - that, for all their apparent disagreements, end up collapsing into an orgy of self-righteousness and mutual hatred. The perspective we get on the British media is, as one might expect, scathing, with McEwan delineating its willingness to plumb the depths of human depravity at the expense of any sort of sophistication or culture. Pages dedicated to literature and the arts are reassigned to sports, and real news is converted into grotesque sensationalism.

Just as scathing, though, is McEwan's description of the complacency of the cultured elite. His assessment of how Clive has benefited from the post-war boom while denying the same privileges to the next generation is razor sharp, particularly when one considers that McEwan himself is a product of this era. "Nurtured in the postwar settlement with the state's own milk and juice, and then sustained by their parents' tentative, innocent prosperity, to come of age in full employment, new universities, bright paperback books, the Augustan age of rock and roll, affordable ideals," writes McEwan. "When the ladder crumbled behind them, when the state withdrew her tit and became a scold, they were safe, they consolidated and settled down to forming this or that - taste, opinion, fortunes" (p.13). Such, then, is the state of post-Thatcher Britain, which forms part of a repeated pattern of social ideals that end in despair and inequality.

The curious thing about modernity, McEwan notes, is that this despair and inequality seems to emerge, paradoxically, from cultural origins that promise great beauty, joy, and hope. In making this point, Amsterdam points repeatedly back to the Romantics. The Millennium Symphony that Clive Linley is composing, for instance, is compared to Beethoven's "Ode to Joy." In a conversation toward the end of the novel, Clive tells how he once set the Romantic poet William Blake's "The Poison Tree" to music. And of course, when he is in need of inspiration, Clive habitually retreats to the Lake District, a region of England that occupies a privileged place in English letters, having inspired authors such as William Wordsworth and Jane Austen.

Initially when I got to the end of Amsterdam I was a bit nonplussed by the way that McEwan failed to upstage my expectations as to how the story would end. Upon further reflection, however, I realized that the novel's depressing spiral was crucial to the point that McEwan was trying to make about the history of modernity, which is that no matter how forceful the push for change and reform, no matter how "enlightened" and scientifically advanced we become, the tedious fact remains that human society continues to resort to the old tactics of brutality and conflict. The more things appear to change, the more they stay the same. The city of Amsterdam comes to symbolize this paradox in the novel. "There was never a city more rationally ordered," writes McEwan, and yet it turns out to be the place where people can get away with murder (p.168).

What makes Amsterdam a somewhat less successful novel than its closest cousin, Black Dogs, is its lack of a third perspective. In Black Dogs that role is played by Jeremy, Bernard and June's son-in-law, who mediates between the conflict of the two central characters, and whose ability to see the gray areas that Bernard and June miss provides the novel with a hint of ambiguity and even hope. Amsterdam, however, feels a little unbalanced in this respect, and therefore underdeveloped - one might easily, one suspects, have transcended the doom and gloom of the bitter fight between Clive and Vernon by complicating our view of one of the other characters - Julien Garmony, perhaps, or George Lane, or even, best of all, Molly.
Who done it; a plot to destroy by the mysterious, not to mention dead, Molly Lane? or was it a plot from a former lover? Clive a successful musician; Vernon a rising newspaper reporter; Julian a politician with a secret past; George, the last, who has it in for all three companions. With upcoming events, all following the death and funeral of poor Molly, the former lovers of the deceased have an increasing amount of contact with each other, wanted or accidental. Pictures, a premier story; a symphony and a rape; a man out to get MP, how can Ian McEwan possible connect all three. Through one woman: Molly. Almost like a physical entity, Molly plays a hand in the demise of all but one. Short, confusing, and delicate, Amsterdam is where is happened--the closing scene of it all. Each lover is consumed by his own greatness, riding on others and bailing on others to get what he wants; punishment can never go too far for any of the trio, or should I say quartet. Fabulous and entrancing, a dark affair with a surprising end that you almost knew would come true from the start.
I loved the first half (2/3?) of the book, but when the moral dilemma posed and the carefully crafted plot devolved into the absurdity (view spoiler) the book was ruined for me. Prose like this hooked me: he was infinitely diluted; he was simply the sum of all the people who had listened to him, and when he was alone, he was nothing at all to describe a newspaper editor, or to think of civilization as the sum of all the arts, along with design, cuisine, good wine, and the like.. but now it appeared square miles of meager modern houses whose principal purpose was the support of TV aerials and dishes; factories producing worthless junk.. tyrannies of traffic... to watch it, who would have guessed that kindness or the imagination... had ever existed? as tidy a summation of modern life as you could hope to find in a few lines, captivate. One more: Passionate striving. And for what? Money. Respect. Immortality. A way of denying the randomness that spawned us and the holding off of the fear of death. These nuggets are what Ian McEwan so enjoyable - along with plots twists like the one in which his newspaper's hideously humiliating scoop of a politician's secret becomes something else entirely -- but then McEwan just throws it all away in the end, not-so-neatly tying up a beautiful package with a loose and grimy string.