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商品の説明
内容説明
From one of our most admired writers: a collection of stories set mainly in the fertile imaginative landscape of the American West, written with the terse lyricism, cinematic detail, and wry humor that have become Sam Shepard’s trademarks.
A man traveling down Highway 90 West gets trapped alone overnight inside a Cracker Barrel restaurant, where he is tormented by an endless loop of Shania Twain songs on the overhead sound system. A wandering actor returns to his hometown against his better instincts and runs into an old friend, who recounts their teenage days of stealing cars, scoring Benzedrine, and sleeping with whores in Tijuana. A Minnesota family travels south for a winter vacation but, caught up in the ordinary tyrannies of family life, remains oblivious to the beauty of the Yucatn Peninsula. A solitary horse rancher muses on Sitting Bull and Beckett amid the jumble of stuff in his big country kitchenfrom rusted spurs and Lakota dream-catchers to yellowing pictures of hawks and galloping horses to “snapshots of different sons in different shirts doing different things like fishing, riding mules and tractors; leaning up against their different mothers at radical angles.”
Made up of short narratives, lyrics, and dialogues, Day out of Days sets conversation against tale, song against memory, in a cubistic counterpoint that finally links each piece together. The result is a stunning work of vision and clarity imbued with the vivid reverberations of mythShepard at his flinty-eyed, unwavering best.
A man traveling down Highway 90 West gets trapped alone overnight inside a Cracker Barrel restaurant, where he is tormented by an endless loop of Shania Twain songs on the overhead sound system. A wandering actor returns to his hometown against his better instincts and runs into an old friend, who recounts their teenage days of stealing cars, scoring Benzedrine, and sleeping with whores in Tijuana. A Minnesota family travels south for a winter vacation but, caught up in the ordinary tyrannies of family life, remains oblivious to the beauty of the Yucatn Peninsula. A solitary horse rancher muses on Sitting Bull and Beckett amid the jumble of stuff in his big country kitchenfrom rusted spurs and Lakota dream-catchers to yellowing pictures of hawks and galloping horses to “snapshots of different sons in different shirts doing different things like fishing, riding mules and tractors; leaning up against their different mothers at radical angles.”
Made up of short narratives, lyrics, and dialogues, Day out of Days sets conversation against tale, song against memory, in a cubistic counterpoint that finally links each piece together. The result is a stunning work of vision and clarity imbued with the vivid reverberations of mythShepard at his flinty-eyed, unwavering best.
著者について
Sam Shepard is the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of more than forty-five plays. As an actor, he has appeared in more than thirty films, and received an Oscar nomination in 1984 for The Right Stuff. He was a finalist for the W. H. Smith Literary Award for his story collection Great Dream of Heaven. He lives in New York and Kentucky.
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カスタマーレビュー
Amazon.com で最も参考になったカスタマーレビュー (beta)
Amazon.com:
11件のカスタマーレビュー
15 人中、13人の方が、｢このレビューが参考になった｣と投票しています。
Back in the Saddle, Back on the Road
2010/1/20
形式:ハードカバー|Amazonが確認した購入
More than Great Dream of Heaven or Cruising Paradise, Shepard's two previous story collections for Knopf, Day Out of Days reminds me of his early prose collection The Motel Chronicles. Shepard's nameless, aimless narrators take stock of their empty lives and the world around them, then shrug and trudge on. The Beckett epigram that opens Day Out of Days is telling, indeed. Shepard's long been heralded as one of our nation's greatest playwrights. A reliable character actor, too. Perhaps it's time that we take a closer look at our nation's empty literary scene and recognize Shepard's clear-eyed tales for the welcomed gifts they are.
5 人中、5人の方が、｢このレビューが参考になった｣と投票しています。
Ruminations in Fiction
2010/5/30
形式:ハードカバー|Amazonが確認した購入
I think Sam Shepard is underrated. His fiction writing is very much like his playwriting and his acting -- it all has that reflective, laconic sincerity.
To say this is fiction is misleading. It's mostly written in the first person, as autobiography, not of facts and events, but of thoughts. Many of the thoughts have to do with wandering. Many have to do with frustration with other people, especially women, but also of being unworthy of them -- an inconsistency that is just plain real. There's an impressive sincerity to Shephard's reporting of his thoughts about himself, other people, his and their faults, . . .
It's all rumination. Some of it is sad, some of it is wistful, and some of it is just rumination. If your favorite part of a baseball game is the time between the pitches, then you'll like Sam Shepard.
To say this is fiction is misleading. It's mostly written in the first person, as autobiography, not of facts and events, but of thoughts. Many of the thoughts have to do with wandering. Many have to do with frustration with other people, especially women, but also of being unworthy of them -- an inconsistency that is just plain real. There's an impressive sincerity to Shephard's reporting of his thoughts about himself, other people, his and their faults, . . .
It's all rumination. Some of it is sad, some of it is wistful, and some of it is just rumination. If your favorite part of a baseball game is the time between the pitches, then you'll like Sam Shepard.
4 人中、4人の方が、｢このレビューが参考になった｣と投票しています。
Dry, Gritty, Searching
2010/3/2
形式:ハードカバー
I felt a sense of guilt as I started reading this collection of short stories by Sam Shepard. It seemed as if I was reading someone's journal, their diary, with all their personal ramblings being exposed to me, a stranger. I got over that, and went on to really enjoy this collection that contains very short stories, snippets of conversations, memories, poems, observations, and random musings. Shepard writes in the voice of a distant loner, hardened by truth and reality but still seeking, looking for a kind of lost artifact or talisman.
Some of the poems have titles, but most are simple and unadorned. Without the title (and sometimes without punctuation) you are left to figure out the point, and each reader could likely come away with a different impression.
Horses racing men
Mummies on the mend
What's all this gauze bandaging
Unraveled down the stairs
Has come apart
In here
Something without end (p. 126)
In "Rosebud, South Dakota (Highway 83 North)" he describes a deceptively simple scene:
Lakota church, "Open to Anyone", it says, but no one's here. Not a single sorry soul. And it's the Sabbath too. Imagine that. Sunday abandoned. Just constant wind ripping across the tattered yards and buried fences. Constant endless prairie breath. Like it's always been. Now and evermore. Unrelenting. Raw. And could care less about the state of the Union.
Shepard's subjects are dry, tired, lost, searching, guilty, sarcastic, sardonic, and grim. They inhabit truck stops, rest stops, desert paths and windy valleys. Remarkably, reading these doesn't feel depressing or dispiriting. Instead, it's almost like putting a story behind that stranger you noticed outside the diner's plate glass window, or hitchhiking outside of town, or passing you on the open rural road in that old dirty Ford pickup.
Some of the poems have titles, but most are simple and unadorned. Without the title (and sometimes without punctuation) you are left to figure out the point, and each reader could likely come away with a different impression.
Horses racing men
Mummies on the mend
What's all this gauze bandaging
Unraveled down the stairs
Has come apart
In here
Something without end (p. 126)
In "Rosebud, South Dakota (Highway 83 North)" he describes a deceptively simple scene:
Lakota church, "Open to Anyone", it says, but no one's here. Not a single sorry soul. And it's the Sabbath too. Imagine that. Sunday abandoned. Just constant wind ripping across the tattered yards and buried fences. Constant endless prairie breath. Like it's always been. Now and evermore. Unrelenting. Raw. And could care less about the state of the Union.
Shepard's subjects are dry, tired, lost, searching, guilty, sarcastic, sardonic, and grim. They inhabit truck stops, rest stops, desert paths and windy valleys. Remarkably, reading these doesn't feel depressing or dispiriting. Instead, it's almost like putting a story behind that stranger you noticed outside the diner's plate glass window, or hitchhiking outside of town, or passing you on the open rural road in that old dirty Ford pickup.
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