Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Marriage At Borough Hall

Cornell Woolrich, the cynical author of the Angel black

About Woolrich is written all over and from many sides, giving different explanations about his story. Someone called him anxious, and in fact this is the anxiety in his eyes, the look of one of the most essential of the narrators. The word is subterfuge, in fact, support action of all characters within, which show only the appearance, hiding much more severe obsessions and remote areas. The tension builds insidious and powerless, while life goes on tormenting doubts of gestures just spoken, never revealed to delusions, which are a combination of errors and deceptions, precipitating events to the fate of a death that takes relentless behind , where deceit too often affects the author and not the victim. The comparison runs between cynicism and naivete, between ambition and ostentatious acceptance of an incomprehensible order, which is disorder, which is ruined and sometimes unexpected salvation. Woolrich opens his characters by giving them a glimpse of the world which is contrary their inner feelings, as if to throw off, or put them on alert: the simplicity is sometimes too obvious not to arouse suspicion, as well as the certainty of one who is arrogant does not glimpse the possibility of danger that is inherent in their certainties.
not lost in unnecessary hyperbole Woolrich, in meticulous descriptions. Not portrays the figures with particular meticulousness: Just a hint, a sign. Not even uses the metaphor does not seem to be attracted. Each description is only an excuse to give development to mixed feelings, the tensions that each one carries with him, hoping that nothing happens.

"He can not do it, I know, will never get past the barrier, but could always give it a try, has enough space to do it. The piece of road that lies ahead is still unrestricted, unhindered, and could groped to cross on the run, before the plummet on him, and postpone the malmenino back. And 'the gesture that counts, not the result.
But that's not how things are going, keep telling myself with sad cynicism. Not in real life, only in our oaths to go clubbing or university endowments in the Masonic in our cowboy movies and comic books. Because, contrary to the humanist thought in the seventeenth century, every man is an island complete in itself, and as it is sinking, around him the feet keep moving, from nothing to nothing with no time to lose. "

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