cmbynlocations italy cmbynbook cmbynfilm elioperlman timotheechalamet aciman acimanbook andreaciman book bookworm callmebyyournamebook callmebyyournamefilm cmbynmovie cmbynquote cmbynquotes corcordium elioandoliver sanclementesyndrom summer1983 aesthetic selamore elio cmbyn callmebyyourname novel armiehammer sorrow parallellife michaelstulbarg aciman
Ok guys. Here is the crazy story about B. Before going to Bordighera, I wanted to read again the Aciman's essay I had previously only looked through - 'My Monet moment'. In this paper he describes his first encounter with pittoresque Italian town and the pains the search of original Monet locations gave him. At certain point, when he was about to give up, he stumbles upon a beautiful villa, which was frequented and painted by Monet.
I made a mental note to visit the place, and was really intrigued by his phrase that now villa operates as a hotel with quite affordable prices.
I was like 'no, the villa built by the famous architector of 19th century can't be that cheap' and opened booking.com to check it. Predictably, I didn't even find the hotel and was about to give up, when I saw the site of the villa, which actually gave me information about available rooms, prices and everything. Indeed, you can make a call and book a room at a bargain price, what I did to my complete amazement.
But what really blew up my mind were the pictures of the villa. At that moment I was posting here last quotes from the book and the description of the Perlmans' villa and surroundings were quite fresh in memory. And I realized that villa Garnier looked pretty much like Perlmans villa. There are discrepancies, of course. In reality it's bigger and has a tower, for example. But could this be a prototype? I'm quite confident about this, especially given the sentiments the building aroused in Aciman.
Can you imagine my state when I managed to book a room two days in advance in the villa, which became iconic thanks to the most delicious book ever?
I'm studying Italian now by a coursebook and just three days before my discovery I learned how to book a room by phone, ask about facilities,etc, although I was quite sure about the inutility of this lexis. Come on, do we really need this in the epoch of booking.com, Airbnb etc? It appears we do, especially when we need to book a room in a very special villa❤️
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That day, after we landed, my mother desperately tried to make it up to me, speaking to me so sweetly and so amicably that we made peace soon enough. Yet the real damage was not in the cutting words she wished she hadn’t spoken and that I would never forget. The damage was to our love: it had lost its warmth, its spontaneity, and become a willed, conscious, rueful love. She was pleased to see I still loved her; I was pleased to see how readily both she and I were fooled. The two of us were aware of being pleased, which intensified our truce. But we must have sensed that being so easily reassured was nothing more than a dilution of our love.
She hugged me more often, and I wanted to be hugged. But I didn’t trust my love, and I could tell, from the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, that she didn’t trust it either. — 'Enigma variations'
#cmbyn #callmebyyourname #cmbynmovie #cmbynquotes #cmbynbook #cmbynlocations #callmebyyournamebook #cmbynquote #andreaciman #acimanbook #aciman #corcordium #italy #summer1983 # #armiehammer #selamore #elioandoliver #elioperlman #sanclementesyndrom #aesthetic #book #ghostspots #bookworm #cmbynfilm #callmebyyournamefilm #parallellife #enigmavariations
’People who read are hiders. They hide who they are. People who hide don’t always like who they are.’
☀️ Visiting Crema was my dream since I read the book couple years ago, and watched the movie afterwards. Thank you @cmbynfilm for making the movie in such breathtaking locations. It’s wonderful to travel with @acimanandre ‚s book☀️
#elioandmarzia #cmbynedit #gaypride #cmbyn #callmebyyourname #cmbynfilm #cmbynbook #cmbynscenes #cmbynlocations #timotheechalamet #elioperlman #elioperlmanedit
.
“Are you happy you’re back?”
⠀
He saw through my question before I did.
⠀
“Are you happy I’m back?” he retorted.
⠀
I looked at him, feeling quite disarmed, though not threatened. Like people who blush easily
but aren’t ashamed of it, I knew better than to stifle this feeling, and let myself be swayed by it.
⠀
“You know I am. More than I ought to be, perhaps.”
⠀
“Me too.”
⠀
That said it all.
#cmbyn #callmebyyourname #cmbynmovie #cmbynquotes #cmbynbook #cmbynlocations #callmebyyournamebook #cmbynquote #andreaciman #acimanbook #aciman #corcordium #italy #summer1983 #timotheechalamet #armiehammer #selamore #elioandoliver #elioperlman #elio #sanclementesyndrom #aesthetic #book #novel #bookworm #cmbynfilm #callmebyyournamefilm #parallellife#twentyyears
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“Seeing you here is like waking from a twenty-year coma. You look around you and you find
that your wife has left you, your children, whose childhood you totally missed out on, are grown
men, some are married, your parents have died long ago, you have no friends, and that tiny face
staring at you through goggles belongs to none other than your grandson, who’s been brought along
to welcome Gramps from his long sleep. Your face in the mirror is as white as Rip Van Winkle’s.
⠀
But here’s the catch: you’re still twenty years younger than those gathered around you, which is
why I can be twenty-four in a second—I am twenty-four. And if you pushed the parable a few years further up, I could wake up and be younger than my elder son.”
⠀
“What does this say about the life you’ve lived, then?”
⠀
“Part of it—just part of it—was a coma, but I prefer to call it a parallel life. It sounds better.
Problem is that most of us have—live, that is—more than two parallel lives.”
⠀
⠀
May I speculate a bit about the excerpt? In my seminars on Greek philosophy, our professor explained to us once that in Plato's dialogue 'Phaedrus' you can see the traces of an earlier version, i.e. it was rewritten bit not smoothed perfectly after this. I tend to think that Oliver's monologue about coma is of the same nature due to some discrepancies. First, he talks about 20 years, but there were only 15 passed since that summer. 15 is not 18 or 19,5 to round off it as 20. He could easily say 15. Second, he mentions his wife left him, but two pages earlier he invites Elio to meet his wife.
⠀
I think originally this passage was part of the final scene where Oliver comes back twenty years later and his wife had probably left him indeed. But the following lines about parallel lifes wouldn't fit the situation, because Oliver was about to put the end to them, so the author moved Oliver's monologue earlier in time. As it is now, the passage doesn't sound so conclusive and monumental as it would at the very end.
⠀
What do you think?
#cmbynbookanalysis
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“And you,” I asked, “what moment?”
⠀
“Rome too. Singing together till dawn on Piazza Navona.”
⠀
I had totally forgotten. It wasn’t just a Neapolitan song we ended up singing that night. A
group of young Dutchmen had taken out their guitars and were singing one Beatles song after the
other, and everyone by the main fountain had joined in, and so did we. Even Dante showed up
again and he too sang along in his warped English.
⠀
“Did they serenade us, or am I making it up?”
⠀
He looked at me in bewilderment.
⠀
“They serenaded you—and you were drunk out of your mind. In the end you borrowed the
guitar from one of them and you started playing, and then, out of nowhere, singing. Gaping, they
all were. All the druggies of the world listening like sheep to Handel.
⠀
One of the Dutch girls had
lost it. You wanted to bring her to the hotel. She wanted to come too. What a night. We ended up
sitting in the emptied terrace of a closed caffè behind the piazza, just you and I and the girl watching dawn, each of us slumped on a chair.”
.
We were leaving in three days—and then whatever I had with Oliver
was destined to go up in thin air. We had talked about meeting in the States, and we had talked of
writing and speaking by phone—but the whole thing had a mysteriously surreal quality kept intentionally opaque by both of us—not because we wanted to allow events to catch us
unprepared so that we might blame circumstances and not ourselves, but because by not planning
to keep things alive, we were avoiding the prospect that they might ever die.
We had come to
Rome in the same spirit of avoidance: Rome was a final bash before school and travel took us
away, just a way of putting things off and extending the party long past closing time. Perhaps,
without thinking, we had taken more than a brief vacation; we were eloping together with return-
trip tickets to separate destinations.
Perhaps it was his gift to me.
Perhaps it was my father’s gift to the two of us.
.
One summer, nine years after his last letter, I received a phone call in the States from my
parents. Finally his voice came through.
⠀
“Elio,” he said. I could hear my parents and the
voices of children in the background. No one could say my name that way.
⠀
“Elio,” I repeated, to
say it was I speaking but also to spark our old game and show I’d forgotten nothing.
⠀
“It’s Oliver,”
he said. He had forgotten.
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.
He spoke about his two boys who
were right now playing in the living room with my mother, eight and six, I should meet his wife, I
am so happy to be here, you have no idea, no idea.
It’s the most beautiful spot in the world, I said,
pretending to infer that he was happy because of the place.
You can’t understand how happy I am
to be here. His words were breaking up, he passed the phone back to my mother, who, before
turning to me, was still speaking to him with endearing words. “Ma s’è tutto commosso, he’s all
choked up,” she finally said to me.
⠀
“I wish I could be with you all,” I responded, getting all
worked up myself over someone I had almost entirely stopped thinking about.
Time makes us
sentimental. Perhaps, in the end, it is because of time that we suffer.