The Lowland的读后感大全

《The Lowland》是一本由Jhumpa Lahiri著作，Knopf出版的Hardcover图书，本书定价：GBP 17.92，页数：352，特精心收集的读后感，希望对大家能有帮助。

《The Lowland》读后感(一)：Mesmerizing, but it can also be cold and brutal.

——The Lowland 书评

放下书已是半月有余，不知能写下什么样的书评来。家庭作为不可分割的纽带，而褪色的大革命作为罪与罚的根本契机，展现出兄弟二人截然不同的人生轨迹。“以印度近现代史为大背景的家族史”不能完全定义这本书，因为作者好像是贴近着每一个人物写下他们的心境，又好像是袖手局外，冷眼旁观着发生的悲欢离合。你的神经不会被这些遥不可及的人物所牵动，但依旧是放不下书地想要知道他们的生活如何。革命带走兄弟一人，他不再存在，却在所有人的生命轨迹中留下烙印；罗德岛上的被抛弃印度纱丽，和在印度酒店那愧对的一跃而下……这样被提炼的生命历程叫人生出一股敬畏，不过，也没什么高尚的人生感悟可说。

Life is mesmerising, but it can also be cold and brutal.

2016.2.5

《The Lowland》读后感(二)：差强人意

作者在遣词造句间没有使用华丽的辞藻和句式，因此全书气氛显得有些平淡。然而，这贯穿始终的平淡中却无时无刻不渗透着一种看似希望实为绝望的感觉。Udayan的死给所有人都带来的了痛苦，但作为读者的我，可以理解Gauri的绝望却不能理解她的抛弃与别离。而Subhash对Gauri产生的所谓感情与组织家庭的决定，究竟是出于对弟弟的责任感，还是在异国求学中萌生的那种看似与Gauri相似的孤独无助感，作者并没有给我们一个明确的答案。但不可否认的是，Udayan的死，是一切的转折，他最初的选择，一种被描写的似乎有些天真的冲动，改变了他周围每一个人的人生。

我始终不能理解的是，究竟是怎样一种理由，让Gauri选择离开，甚至连自己的女儿都不愿面对和养育？因而，我眼中的Gauri是不负责任且自私的。这种自私，甚于Udayan执拗的莽撞，更甚于Subhash对于bella出于恐惧的隐瞒。

《The Lowland》读后感(三)：Another excellent novel from Lahiri

Without a doubt Jhumpa Lahiri is one of my all-time favorite writers. There is something about her story telling that is totally addicting, constantly compelling me to yearn for more. Her craft—infused with precise dictions, clever sentences, elegant expositions, and astute observations —has the magic to draw readers in and to get them immersed in the world she has constructed. Perhaps nothing is more indulging than warming up for a day with Lahiri’s tales over a cup of cappuccino, or winding down after a long day with her stories over a glass of Chardonnay.

With the Lowland, expanding the perimeter of her prior novel and short stories, Lahiri made her first foray into historical fiction, a genre for which I admittedly have a soft spot. I just cannot get enough of the likes of Gone with the Wind, Memoirs of a Geisha. The ups and downs of the characters’ lives, set in the vicissitudes of historical events, always intrigue me thanks to the stories’ multi-layered intricacies.

In the Lowland, Lahiri continues to tell stories with her signature writing style. There are no qualms about the elegance and poise in her writing. However, similar to her last novel, the Namesake, I feel some parts of the novel lack sufficient development. Given the complexity of the scope of the novel, which spans several generations and different cultures, I cannot help but notice at times that the progression of the storyline feels too rushed. Along similar lines, though rapid scene changes and constant comes and goes of characters do furnish a certain level of interest and excitement to the novel,meanwhile they forestall the momentum in character building.

《The Lowland》读后感(四)：Lahiri proves she can be a powerful novelist also

Jhumpa Lahiri is one of the best living short story writers. Her terrain is the lives of Indian-American immigrants, middle-class Bengalis moving to the land of opportunity, who are torn between the past and the future. Her two collections of short stories, The interpreter of maladies and Unaccustomed earth have beautiful, elegantly constructed pieces charting out the human condition in all its glory and despair. Drawing from her own experience, her gaze is gentle and unobtrusive yet incisive. She communicates in understated, unadorned prose. But her strengths as an author of short stories seemed to pull down her first novel, The namesake. It had its lyrical moments but it felt episodic, like a series of nicely delineated places and events. It lacked a sense of completeness. That’s why I hesitated in picking up her new novel, wondering if I should wait for her next collection of short stories. The lukewarm reviews put me off further. When I read it finally, all my misgivings were proved wrong. Lahiri has marshalled her prodigious writing talents to dig deeper into her usual themes of alienation, family ties, duty and redemption. The result is a deeply affecting and moving novel. It evidences her tremendous growth as a novelist.

The story starts in 1950s Calcutta, with twin brothers Subhash and Udayan scaling over the walls of an exclusive golf club. Udayan is the leader on this illicit expedition, as he is on all their acts of derring-do. Subhash is the quiet, responsible one. “His mother never had to run after him…He waited for chaotic games to end, for shouts to subside. His favourite moments were when he was alone, or felt alone.” Udayan is the exact opposite. He is charismatic, impulsive. During the tumultuous sixties, Udayan is drawn into the Naxalite movement, an idealistic but deeply misguided attempt at bringing about a communist revolution and establishing a just utopia. Around the same time, Subhash heads off the US to do a PhD in the suitably dull sounding field of marine chemistry. Somewhat predictably, Udayan is killed by the police in a fake encounter. Subhash decides to marry his brother’s pregnant wife, Gauri, against the wishes of his parents and whisks her off to the US. The rest of the novel deals with the lives of Subhash and Gauri and their daughter, Bela, with the ghost of Udayan always hovering in the background.

Her trademark acute deｓｃｒｉｐｔions of people in exile are present here. The virgin Subhash’s uncertain fumbling in bed with an older American woman, Gauri wandering around the university campus aimlessly and picking up cream cheese mistaking it for chocolate and then gobbling the whole pack standing in the parking lot. Also present are the insights into human nature. For instance, Subhash’s conflicted feelings about himself vis a vis his brother. He feels angry at Udayan for not thinking about their parents but is also envious of him for choosing the lesser travelled path without fail and seemingly getting away with it. One moment he feels ‘proud to have come alone to America. To learn it as he once must have learned to stand and walk and speak’. The next moment when he receives the news of Udayan’s ‘love marriage’, he again feels left behind.

But there are also some new things here. Lahiri invokes wider history for the first time in her works. But history is used more as a catalyst for setting the story in motion and Lahiri keeps her focus on the micro level of the individual characters. The more important new element is something else. Lahiri’s characters rarely defy social conventions. Usually, they struggle within the confines of their dreary, ordinary lives. But in this story, it is not just Udayan who is the exception. The ripples of Udayan’s actions and violent death make it impossible for the surviving characters to stick to set, pre-determined trajectories. They opt for grand gestures and actions, bordering on soap-operatic, reflecting the scale of the expanded stage. The book pivots around these crucial points. But they feel authentic because of the consistency of the characters. They continue to be haunted by secrets and guilt and they do not transform. Catharsis is absent, as it so often is in real life. Also, the big events are grounded in real, mundane lives, detailed with loving care and empathy. The father’s pride when Subhash and Udayan get into good colleges, Udayan and Gauri’s diffident courtship, Subhash’s tender relationship with his ‘adopted’ daughter Bela, they anchor the tale.

Lahiri is exploring new horizons, pushing the boundaries of her craft. She is almost brutal with her characters in this novel, not sparing them any travails or miseries. She does indicate a possibility of redemption for the most selfish of actions but makes it clear that it would be slim. At the same time, selfless deeds don’t always result in rewards. Still, The Lowlands is not a cynical, morose work. The humanity of the characters always shines through and they are allowed precious moments of peace.

Lahiri understands how ordinary humans, placed in extraordinary situations would behave. They flail around, get lost, and gather courage, sometimes confusing courage and cowardice. Some are vulnerable to the fleeing instinct, some manage to find a stable mooring. But all of them live with the consequences of their actions.