From Publishers Weekly
The reissue, in translation, of Ital- ian art historian Banti's imaginative recreation of the life of artist Artemisia Gentileschi (1590-1642), initially published in 1947, is well deserved. This sensitive work of psychological portraiture, fluently translated by Caracciolo, is an intricate, self-reflective work of art. Banti fuses Artemisia's life with her own in Nazi-occupied Italy in a richly complex, historical narrative present, entering into dialogues with her heroine on how best to present her life, and on the nature and limitations of biography. As an unhappy adolescent in Rome, starved for love from her aloof father Orazio, a prominent artist, Artemisia allows herself to be seduced and is publicly humiliated for losing her "virtue." Hastily married off for form's sake, she is removed by the contemptuous Orazio to Florence where she begins to establish herself as a painter. Later, she assumes married life in Rome, but her husband abandons her when she asserts herself professionally. Eventually, Artemisia achieves independent success before she goes to her dying father's side where her art earns her his longed-for respect and approbation. Artemisia's struggle to fulfil herself, ensnared as she was in the toils of patriarchy with its punitive double standards, is a powerful lesson in courage and the sustaining powers of a vocation. Banti's richly poetical, wonderfully idiosyncratic prose amply rewards the attentive reader.
Copyright 1988 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 1988 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From 500 Great Books by Women; review by Erica Bauermeister
Artemisia is a work of love and devotion. The known facts concerning the seventeenth-century Italian painter Artemisia Gentileschi are few and easily contained in a short paragraph in the introduction. Art historian and writer Anna Banti (Lucia Lopresti) became intrigued with Artemisia, invented what she did not know, then saw her manuscript destroyed in World War II. When she began the manuscript again, her own experience entered in and challenged the boundaries of traditional biography. Across time, without time, author and subject speak to each other; as the author speculates, Artemisia is fleshed out. Neither true biography nor historical fiction, Artemisia floats on the surface of the seventeenth century, diving down for brief bursts of detail as if to capture pictures and feelings rather than pin down facts. Moments, meetings and thought processes are described in lush, vivid detail - a woman pulling a bucket up from a well, a curl falling unrestrained, an encounter with a servant, a body run over by a carriage - did any of them happen? Are they any more true than the portraits Artemisia paints of the aristocracy, or her misattributed "self-portrait"? Is the insecurity and self-doubt described here Artemisia's or the author's? All of these questions, implied and explicit, make for a rich, complex, thought-provoking book that requires and deserves careful attention on the part of reader - take it slow, and maybe twice. -- For great reviews of books for girls, check out Let's Hear It for the Girls: 375 Great Books for Readers 2-14.
--Ce texte fait référence à une édition épuisée ou non disponible de ce titre.
