PDF Ebook Venice: The Four Seasons, by Lisa St. Aubin de Teran
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Venice: The Four Seasons, by Lisa St. Aubin de Teran
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4 seasons in Venice
- Sales Rank: #3929402 in Books
- Published on: 1992-09-22
- Released on: 1992-09-22
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 10.25" h x 9.25" w x 1.00" l,
- Binding: Hardcover
- 104 pages
Most helpful customer reviews
6 of 8 people found the following review helpful.
An Unusual Book That Never Quite Takes Off
By Ivy
Venice: The Four Seasons is neither a coffee table book nor a travel book, but it wants to be both, with the result that it does not quite succeed at either. Although the photos are lovely and less usual views of Venice, and although occasional bits of prose are apt and revealing, in general the book is just not coherent enough to be involving.
Lisa St Aubin de Teran has written at least one excellent book about Italy - A Valley in Italy. In Valley, her somewhat disconnected style supports and is supported by the structure and topic of the book, creating a delightful and funny work. In Venice, that same style is even more disconnected - her paragraphing is almost random, and the paragraphs themselves do not flow into each other, meaning that the text also doesn't flow - and unfortunately the topic and structure of the book make that disjunction worse. This makes for rather uncompelling text that never seems to commit to a train of thought; you might enjoy what you're reading at the moment, but you don't feel any compulsion to continue reading. After a while, I found myself fighting the impulse to skim, something I rarely do, just so I could get to the next set of photos faster.
The photographs are lovely; almost all professional pictures of Venice are. It is, after all, one of the most photogenic cities in the world. It is also one of the most photographed, so I was pleased that Mick Lindberg, the photographer, avoided the easy, cliche shots, presenting a more personal, intimate view of Venice. And when Lindberg does include standard shots, like gondolas, he offers an unusual take on them - gondolas in a repair shop, in the snow, covered in plastic, etc. The photos were the most appealing part of the book for me, so I was disappointed that the publishers didn't go for a full-scale coffee-table book approach; the book is smaller than a coffee-table book, and has less space devoted to pictures.
In short, the book is worth reading and examining for the creators' take on Venice; they do a fine job of presenting a less-publicized side of the city. With more photos, and more coherent and focused text, the book would be a classic. As it is, it is well worth reading once - but not worth the cover price.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Where the postman hums opera
By Char
At first, I had difficulty concentrating on "Venice," found it uninteresting--but I think that was mostly because I tried to race through the text while I was distracted by outside thoughts. I put the book aside for a long time. One day when I was relaxed and took it up intending to read just a little bit of it with morning coffee, I was amazed at the colorful metaphors in the particular section that I opened up. This way of reading the book in small takes has paid off well for me, but other, quicker-minded readers may find that reading "Venice" fast works just as well for them. I've found that some parts of the narrative are less interesting than others, but there are many brilliant, outstanding passages that deserve to be savored for the excellent quality of the vivid metaphors, which are full of color. In this book, Lisa St Alban de Teran is "painterly."
The text is a first-person narrative "view" of the four seasons in Venice which includes the habits and history of the city, the poetic author's personification of its wonders, plus the author's wandering subjective thoughts drawn from memories of travels elsewhere.
Early impressions: "As I plough through the Grand Canal, backwards and forwards on the vaporetto, learning the intricacies of bureaucratic Venetian life, visiting the various public offices, I amuse myself by looking into other people's apartments, at the tons of suspended Murano glass and the heavily beamed ceilings. It seems that the palazzos gaze across the water at each other, critically observing their respective splendours....Although, in theory, Venice is still wedded to the sea, she is widowed of her power there and sits like a wealthy dowager fingering her caskets of jewels as she makes herself up the better to display the legacies of her late lord. In the peeling and stained stucco of facades I see the remains of once sumptuous gowns, trailing their wet hems over slipper-like steps that rise and fall under tides to the suck and slap of canal water on their green-slimed marble...."
"The old painted lady warms her joints in the sun, daubing the scents of hyacinths, a rouge of tulips and cyclamen and a bright yellow eyeliner of daffodils in window boxes. A crude mixture of colours is splodged onto a master palette."
About carnival: "This recent revival of the ancient Carnival has not struck a chord in the hearts of the citizens, but it has touched a new button on the cash register. The whole festival has become an organized debacle that most Venetians suffer with an ill grace. There is much more of a sense of boycott than of joining in. But then in this Western City of Gems there is little scope for spontaneity. The old order has died out together with most of its rites and customs, and the new order has claimed and cut its pound of flesh; and the flesh has been cut up and divided into miniscule portions and offered for sale at arbitrarily high prices..."
As winter approaches: "The mirrors and the cycles shimmer yet again. The half-salty lagoon might just as well be a repository of tears. Sea winds blow across the waterfront, swallowing whispers. November comes and threatens with its acque alte to swallow up the ancient man-made caprice. The Venetians turn up their collars at elegant angles and hurry on, heads down against the biting winds, knowing that their city may be great in the eye of the world but it is as nothing to the eye of the Adriatic...."
The author is British but says that only in Italy, where she has lived over a long period of time and owned homes in two different places, has she ever felt at home. She writes, however, that every autumn she thinks of England and looks nostalically for traces of England's russet autumn colors to no avail. "The evergreen magnolias of Sant'Elena with their hatching cones and the Giardini Pubblici are all too man-made to dispel this particular lack. Autumn in Venice is one of air and light. Filigree mists begin to finger their way through every available space...."
After talking about the things she usually does each year at the time of her birthday in October, she suddenly moves to information gleaned from her time spent in South America. "Venezuela was named after the supposed resemblance of its floating Indian settlement on Lake Maracaibe to Venice itself. There each May heralds the stagnant beginning of the rainy season. There is an illness known as the Mayera, a wasting fever brought by that month, thus depressing the remainder of the rains with a mouldy gloom. The more I settle in Venice, the more I see that my seasonal disturbance is a mere mood and that the autumn here, for all its greyness, is streaked with unexpected flashes of euphoria that set the sky ablaze, and a cloud with its fleece on fire can run across the sky like an arsonist having set light to the city which burns red in every window. The red brickwork glows like hot ash and the canals are turned to molten lava. As the sun sets, San Marco is blotched as though a thousand red-lipped kisses have been implanted in the lacy handkerchief of its facade..." [Wow!]
Lisa St Aubin de Teran's writing about Venice is full of wonderful things.
The illustrations, color photographs by Mick Lindberg, are a pleasure to look at. I was more stirred by some than by others. As with the text, I was at first disappointed in the photos as a whole. The interior photos of the author's apartment reminded me of the photography in magazines about interior decorating; they seemed to be too much about furniture and devoid of human personality. (Nevertheless, it was nice to be able to see the fine antiques that the author owned, and some of the details of her apartment home.) ---Something about the perspective offered the viewer seemed to be at fault. I couldn't "see" the pictures well. Some of the close-ups felt too close-up, the subject matter right in my face. Some streets scenes with buildings and waterways seemed too small on the page to produce the stunning effect that they should. I wondered if the perspective problem I was experiencing would have been solved by making the photos larger, in a much larger, coffee-table-book. (This book is 10 x 9.) Eventually I found that if I held the book out at arm's length, many of the street scene photos looked better to me, and I could "see" them better.
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