The Lost Language Of Cranes (2005) - Plot & Excerpts
”It was horrible, really, what I was feeling, the sense I had that I was running a terrible risk every minute of my life - risking my family, my career - but not being able to help it; somehow just not being able to help it. I was thinking every day how I had to change my life, how I couldn’t go on this way; but I knew the more I thought that, the farther I was getting from where I thought I should have been.”[Owen Benjamin]The Lost Language of Cranes is David Leavitt’s first novel and was published in 1986. It explores the terrible secrets that families keep from one another, and the consequences of their discovery.Set in 1980s New York against the backdrop of the Aids epidemic, the novel recounts the lives of the Benjamin family; parents Rose and Owen (both 52) and their son Philip (25). Rose is a copy editor, and Owen, the director of admissions at a private boys’ school. They lead a tightly structured life, devoting their days to work and their evenings to reading. While Rose and Owen both know that their intimacy has faded, neither is willing to question the basic value of their relationship. Every Sunday, they go their separate ways; Rose reads the paper and works in their apartment, while Owen spends the day at a gay pornographic cinema. Rose has no idea how Owen spends these Sundays and would never dream of asking. When she accidentally meets Owen on the street one Sunday while taking a walk, Rose realizes that after 27 years of marriage, she hardly knows him: “She had stumbled into her husband on a strange street corner, running some mysterious errand she knew nothing of, and they had spoken briefly like strangers, parted like strangers.”The first cracks appear on the surface of the Benjamin family life when Rose and Owen learn that their New York City apartment will be converted into a co-op, and they must either buy it or move out. Once their sanctuary from the outside world is threatened, the rest of their carefully structured life begins to crumble as well. Their son, Philip, infatuated with a new lover, wants to share his happiness with his parents and finally summons the courage to reveal that he is gay. His disclosure has an immediate impact on their comfortable, settled lives. Rose feels shocked grief, driven by her fear of the sexual danger that her son has to negotiate as a homosexual. Owen is inconsolable, confused by the upheaval in his family, and overwhelmed by his inability to cope with his own undisclosed homosexuality.The Lost Language of Cranes is a multilayered work of sensibility, delicate on the surface yet packing the punch a reader may feel upon discovering that the title refers not to long-legged birds but to machines employed in lifting materials for building. In a psychological case history discovered by a lesbian friend of Philip's, a boy named Michel who was neglected as a baby is found to have identified with the cranes he saw working outside his nursery window. ”He moved like a crane, made the noises of a crane, and although the doctors showed him many pictures and toys, he only responded to the pictures of cranes, only played with the toy cranes. Only cranes made him happy. He came to be known as the 'crane-child.'”As Philip's friend muses: ''How wondrous, how grand those cranes must have seemed to Michel, compared to the small and clumsy creatures who surrounded him. For each, in his own way, finds what it is he must love, and loves it; the window becomes a mirror; whatever it is that we love, that is who we are.''Perhaps in personal relationships our life experiences have shown us that maybe that line should read: Whoever it is that we love, that is who we areDavid Leavitt is gifted at portraying both the mundane as well as the emotional interaction of family members, particularly the marriage crises brought on when Rose and Owen realise they've been living a lie for the past three decades.This is a beautifully written and perceptive novel about sexual identity and family; about people struggling toward a sense of self in a world where feeling love is a certainty even if being loved is not. 4.5 starsTV FILMThe Lost Language of Cranes was adapted to a BBC TV film in 1992. The setting was changed to London from New York. While the movie is a fair adaptation of the book, the book (in my opinion) is way better.The TV film is available on You Tube (free) at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nmQxY...THE AUTHORAt the age of twenty-three, David Leavitt burst on the American literary scene with a collection of short stories entitled Family Dancing (1984). The stories dealt with issues of sexuality and terminal cancer. Family Dancing received the PEN/Faulkner Award and was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. Because of his youth, Leavitt received much attention and was hailed by some as the new voice of his generation.Two years later, The Lost Language of Cranes, Leavitt’s first novel, appeared to mixed reviews. Focused more clearly on homosexual themes and characters, it established him as a gay writer. During the mid-1980’s, the gay rights movement was well into its second decade and approaching a certain maturity; Leavitt’s novel was noted for dealing with gay themes in a very accessible and universal manner. Despite the critical response, The Lost Language of Cranes spent many weeks on best-seller lists and was a popular success. In 1992, the British Broadcasting Corporation filmed an adaptation of the novel, transferring the story to London.Leavitt’s other works include Equal Affections (1988), a novel about a family facing its matriarch’s slow death; a second collection of stories, A Place I ve Never Been (1990); and a novel set in wartime England entitled While England Sleeps (1993). His other books can be viewed at his author page David Leavitt. Leavitt has lived in Europe, and his work enjoys great popular and critical success there.The Lost Language of Cranes is also listed in the recently updated 1001 books you must read before you die
"Ciascuno, a modo suo, trova ciò che deve amare, e lo ama; la finestra diventa uno specchio; qualunque sia la cosa che amiamo, è quello che noi siamo." Ho scoperto Leavitt tardi, confesso: e quel Ballo di famiglia, che pure mi ha rivelato l'atroce sensibilità e capacità di un ventenne, quale era l'autore al momento della sua pubblicazione, m'era sembrato una noia mortale. Ripetitivo, monotematico, estremamente riduttivo delle mille complicazioni della vita.Quale estremo piacere, allora, scoprire La lingua perduta delle gru. Laddove, al termine del primo libro, mi chiedevo "ma è davvero tutto qui?", in questo secondo e ancora giovanile romanzo (nel 1986 io nascevo e Leavitt intanto aveva venticinque anni) la domanda diventa un'affermazione: "è davvero tutto qui". C'è tutto: l'irriducibile dissezione del quotidiano, le violente contraddizioni della vita, la chirurgia asettica e precisa della vita familiare, e l'amore, che ti condanna e ti salva. Dotato di una scrittura meravigliosa, davvero impensabile per un ragazzo di quell'età, ma ancora più incredibile per la sua capacità di fare a pezzi la realtà, di spiarne gli anfratti più oscuri: con una maturità inspiegabile Leavitt analizza i riti quotidiani, li scompone, sviscera le liturgie sacre della famiglia, disseziona i ruoli. Potente è la caratterizzazione dei suoi personaggi, straordinariamente audace quella di Rose, la madre, centro indiscusso dell'intero romanzo, continuamente scomposta e ricomposta. Il momento più alto è sicuramente il monologo di Rose, nella scena-chiave del romanzo: la famiglia riunita a cena insieme all'avvenente ospite, estraneo che incrina un triangolo tutt'altro che perfetto. Rose si rifugia nella sua sicura posizione di osservatore esterno, fredda e calcolatrice, scolpisce con lo sguardo il marito e il figlio, attratti dal fascino dell'ospite, prova l'impulso di rovesciare l'intero tavolo, lo placa, allora si sottrae mentalmente, lascia che il suo pensiero scivoli tra i ricordi, in un flusso di coscienza dal sapore joyciano che trascina il lettore. A fianco della madre, nella cui complessità Leavitt riversa tutta la sua femminile sensibilità, l'autore colloca le due figure maschili, complementari e opposte: il padre represso e depresso, stritolato da un'attrazione mista a repulsione verso un mondo nuovo, e il figlio, Philip, audace nella sua resa incondizionata all'amore, con tutte le sue conseguenze. Spingendosi oltre, lo sguardo di Leavitt dipinge una New York che si fa volutamente cartolina turistica, con descrizioni posate, equilibrate, mentre confina i suoi personaggi in spazi chiusi. E che dire del significato che l'intero romanzo assume, alla luce del titolo? Scelta audace e inusuale, quella di staccare il messaggio dal medium, di dichiarare apertamente la morale della storia, eppure ponendola al di fuori di esso, dedicandovi uno striminzito capitolo centrale che taglia in due il romanzo e inchioda al centro della lettura il suo perforante senso. La lingua perduta delle gru, richiamandosi a un fatto psichiatrico realmente avvenuto, è il linguaggio segreto dell'amoore, sono le parole non dette che s'incastrano tra madre e figlio costruendo un muro di silenzio, è l'unica certezza che rimane mentre il romanzo finisce, proprio quando la storia sembra cominciare per davvero: qualunque sia la cosa che amiamo, è quello che noi siamo.
What do You think about The Lost Language Of Cranes (2005)?
3.5To think! A world where the Upper West Side is 'gentrifying!' Before my time, before my time...David Leavitt's 'The Lost Language of Cranes' gives its reader a seamlessly gorgeous story from start to finish. It contains characters that are impossible not to invest emotion with, despite their flaws. Like all good books, Leavitt takes no simple view on 'human nature', instead painting a vast, multigenerational picture of attitudes towards honesty and sexuality—but most importantly, languages of *love*.I felt so much for Philip Benjamin. I was almost embarrassed at the degree to which I found myself identifying with his being the at short end of intense infatuation. And yet who among us sore lovers have not ever come to the realization that we so easily find ourselves inhabiting the role of 'oppressor', rashly expressing our love? Philip's reflections upon his tryst with the Columbia student contained a maturity I think even the most unlucky lovers eventually come to realize, that we too are capable of inflicting emotional pain on others—this, as I would find, is far, far worse (though Leavitt doesn't go in to this much...). My sympathy for Philip's love for Eliot was strong, and my embarrassment in seeing myself in him so fully, even at his most pathetic moments, is surely a credit to Leavitt's writing.And though I may never have shared Owen's anxiety towards his latent homosexuality, it was illustrated brilliantly. Truly, we sweat with Owen in the Bijou.Yet I found Rose to be the most interesting character in the whole novel. I have a 'thing' for silent characters in novels, those whose lack of agency would find no voice if not for the narrator's (which is a very tricky thing to pull off for the author!). George Eliot's Mary Tulliver and Dorothea Brooke come to mind... Diane Lookins from Jonathan Lethem's 'Dissident Gardens' has for me been the most interesting exploration of this theme I've read to-date. All comparisons aside, I couldn't help but love this passage, as Rose wanders through Barnes and Noble after a trip to D'Agostino's:"A couple of young women stood at the rack, absorbed in a book called 'Go For It'. They were in their twenties, chewing gum; secretaries probably. They were genuinely interested in improving themselves. The sight of them made Rose feel fleetingly good, as she remembered the doldrums of her own life, those not-too-distant days when she too had had the luxury of worrying about whether she was going for it or was a victim of the Cinderella Complex. Those days had passed . What she needed now was a book telling her how to live in rubble."I loved this passage for its resonance, though it scares me to death.I feel the book suffers from a lack of resolution in regards to Rose. OK, so undoubtedly this book is primarily about generational attitudes towards homosexuality, truth, and love, but Rose is definitely the all-out loser in this book. Unlike many of the characters in 'TLLOC', Rose fails to speak a language of love by the end of the story. And though in this case we may talk of pointing the finger right back at the victim, ought we not to feel sorry for her? My sympathies, Rose. Though it isn't always appropriate, anyone who is essentially kind who finds themselves at the mercy of a world which changes without them will always have a special place in my heart.
—Andrew Fairweather
I think it would be appropriate to say that David Leavitt’s hauntingly precise first novel is all about the realization that meaning does not blossom spontaneously out of the intricacies of life: it needs to be forged, day after day, whilst swimming along one’s personal ocean of uncertainty and desire. I found myself thoroughly enthralled by the development of the multilayered storyline; and, upon finishing the last paragraph, I scribbled a heartfelt note on the last page of my paperback copy: “There’s something I really like about this book… I feel as if now, at the age of 20, I belong somewhere amidst its pages.”
—Robledo Cabral
4.5/5Sin comerlo ni beberlo, David Leavitt me ha regalado una de las historias más emotivas, cautivadoras y dolorosamente curativas que he tenido el placer de leer en muchos meses. La historia, ambientada en el Nueva York de mediados de los 80, orbita alrededor de una familia de clase media americana a punto de sufrir una drástica cadena de revelaciones: Owen, el marido, sufre constantemente los remordimientos de un vicio inconfesable, mientras que su mujer Rose lleva años ocultando el anhelo de una pasión secreta. Sin embargo, será su hijo Philip el que dinamite por completo ese acogedor espejismo de tranquilidad cuando decida airear públicamente su homosexualidad. Intensa, abismal, devastadora, cotidiana... El lenguaje perdido de las grúas es una auténtica demostración de talento narrativo y habilidad para manejar varias historias aparentemente inconexas que no solo habla de amor, deseo, sexo y perversión en toda su complejidad, sino que además analiza desde un punto de vista muy interesante nuestra forma de asimilar el lenguaje, de comunicarnos a través de un retorcido entramado de convenciones sociales y de establecer relaciones interpersonales que por lo general tienden hacia lo autodestructivo.
—Sub_zero
