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Auntie Mame: An Irreverent Escapade (Englisch) Taschenbuch – 11. September 2001

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  • Taschenbuch: 320 Seiten
  • Verlag: Broadway Books; Auflage: Reprint (11. September 2001)
  • Sprache: Englisch
  • ISBN-10: 9780767908191
  • ISBN-13: 978-0767908191
  • ASIN: 0767908198
  • Größe und/oder Gewicht: 13,2 x 1,6 x 20,3 cm
  • Durchschnittliche Kundenbewertung: 4.9 von 5 Sternen  Alle Rezensionen anzeigen (19 Kundenrezensionen)
  • Amazon Bestseller-Rang: Nr. 86.435 in Fremdsprachige Bücher (Siehe Top 100 in Fremdsprachige Bücher)

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"I reread and study Auntie Mame like a hilarious, glamorous bible where, among other wise lessons, one learns that true sophistication and innocence are two halves of the same glittering coin."
--Charles Busch, author of The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife and Vampire Lesbians of Sodom

"Auntie Mame is the American Alice in Wonderland. It is also, incidentally, one of the most important books in my life. Its witty Wildean phrases ring in my mind, and its flamboyant characters still enamor me. Like Tennessee Williams, Patrick Dennis caught the boldness, vitality, and iridescent theatricality of modern American personality. In Mame’s mercurial metamorphoses we see American optimism and self-invention writ large."--Camille Paglia, author of Sexual Personae

"Mame Dennis is the grande dame of grand dames and I, for one, am thrilled that she’s back among us. She is still hilarious, sparkling, and utterly indestructible despite the best efforts of time, neglect, and Lucille Ball."
--Joe Keenan, Emmy-Winning Writer/Producer for Frasier, author of Blue Heaven and Putting on the Ritz

"Auntie Mame is a unique literary achievementa brilliant novel disguised as a lightweight piece of fluff. Every page sparkles with wit, style andthough Mame would cringe at the thoughthigh moral purpose. Let’s hope Patrick Dennis is finally recognized for what he is: One of the great comedic writers of the 20th century."
--Robert Plunket, author of Love Junkie

Leseprobe. Abdruck erfolgt mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Rechteinhaber. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One

Auntie Mame

and the Orphan Boy

It has rained all day. Not that I mind rain, but this is the day I promised to put up the screens and take my kid to the beach. I also meant to daub some giddy stencils on the composition walls of the place in the cellar which the realtor called a Rumpus Room and to start finishing what the realtor called an Unfinished Attic, Ideal for Guest Room, Game Room, Studio or Den.

Somehow I got sidetracked right after breakfast.

It all started over an old issue of the Digest. This is a magazine I rarely read. I don't have to, because I hear all of its articles discussed every morning on the seven-fifty-one and every evening on the six-oh-three. Everybody in Verdant Greens--a community of two hundred houses in four styles--swears by the Digest. In fact, they talk of nothing else.

But I find that the magazine has the same snake-bird fascination for me, too. Almost against my will, I read about the menace in our public schools; the fun of natural childbirth; how a community in Oregon put down a dope ring; and about somebody whom a famous writer--I forget which one--considers to be the Most Unforgettable Character he's ever met.

That stopped me.

Unforgettable Character? Why, that writer hasn't met anybody! He couldn't know what the word character meant unless he'd met my Auntie Mame. Nobody could. Yet there were certain parallels between his Unforgettable Character and mine. His Unforgettable Character was a sweet little New England spinster who lived in a sweet little white clapboard house and opened her sweet little green door one morning expecting to find the Hartford Courant. Instead she found a sweet little wicker basket, with a sweet little baby boy inside. The rest of the article went on to tell how that Unforgettable Character took the baby in and raised it as her own. Well, that's when I put the Digest down and got to thinking about the sweet little lady who raised me.

In 1928 my father had a slight heart attack and was confined to his bed for a few days. Along with a pain in his chest, he developed a certain cosmic consciousness and the instinct that he wasn't going to last forever. So, having nothing better to do, he telephoned his secretary, who looked like Bebe Daniels, and dictated his will. The secretary typed an original and four carbons, put on her cloche, and took a Yellow Cab from La Salle Street to the Edgewater Beach Hotel to get my father's signature.

The will was very short and very original. It read:

In case of my death, all of my worldly possessions are to be left to my only child, Patrick. If I should die before the boy is eighteen, I appoint my sister, Mame Dennis, of 3 Beekman Place, New York City, as Patrick's legal guardian.

He is to be reared as a Protestant and to be sent to conservative schools. Mame will know what I mean. All cash and securities which I leave are to be handled by the Knickerbocker Trust Company of New York City. Mame will be among the first to see the wisdom of this. However, I do not expect her to be out of pocket on account of rearing my son. She is to submit monthly bills for my son's food, lodging, clothing, education, medical expenses, etc. But the Trust Company will have every right to question any item that seems unusual or eccentric before reimbursing my sister.

I also bequeath five thousand dollars ($5,000) to our faithful servant, Norah Muldoon, so that she may retire in comfort to that place in Ireland she's always talking about .

Norah called me in from the playground and my father read his will to me in a shaky voice. He said that my Aunt Mame was a very peculiar woman and that to be left in her hands was a fate that he wouldn't wish a dog, but that beggars couldn't be choosers and Auntie Mame was my only living relative. The will was witnessed by the secretary and the room service waiter.

The following week my father had forgotten his illness and was out playing golf. A year later he dropped dead in the steam room of the Chicago Athletic Club and I was an orphan.

I don't remember much about my father's funeral except that it was very hot and there were real roses in the vases of the undertaker's Pierce-Arrow limousine. The cortege was made up of some big, hearty men who kept muttering something about getting in at least nine holes when this thing was over, and, of course, Norah and me.

Norah cried a lot. I didn't. In my whole ten years I'd hardly spoken to my father. We met only at breakfast, which for him consisted of black coffee, Bromo-Seltzer and the Chicago Tribune. If I ever said anything, he'd hold his head and say, "Pipe down, kid, the old man's hung," which I never understood until some years after his death. Every year on my birthday he'd send Norah and me to a matinee performance of some light entertainment involving Joe Cook or Fred Stone or maybe the Sells-Floto Circus. Once he took me out to dinner at a place called Casa de Alex with a pretty woman named Lucille. She called us both Honey and smelled very good. I liked her. Otherwise I rarely saw him. My life was spent at Chicago Boys' Latin School, or at Supervised Play with the other children who lived in the hotel, or messing around the suite with Norah.

After he was Laid to Rest, as Norah called it, the big, hearty men went off to the golf course and the limousine carried us back to the Edgewater Beach. Norah took off her black hat and her veil and told me I could get out of my serge suit. She said that my father's partner, Mr. Gilbert, and another gentleman were coming and that I should be around to sign some papers.

I went into my room and practiced signing my name on hotel stationery, and pretty soon Mr. Gilbert and the other man showed up. I could hear them talking to Norah, but I couldn't understand much of what they said. Norah cried a little and said something about that dear, blessed man, not cold in his grave and generous to a fault. The stranger said that his name was Babcock and he was my trustee, which I thought was very exciting because Norah and I had just seen a movie in which an honest convict was made a trusty and saved the warden's little daughter during a big prison break. Mr. Babcock said something about a very irregular will, but watertight.

Norah said she didn't know nothing much about money matters but that it sounded like a good deal of money, she was sure.

Mr. Gilbert said The Boy was to endorse this certified check in the presence of the Trust Company official and then it was to be notarized and the whole transaction would be finished and done with. It sounded faintly sinister to me. Mr. Babcock said, Um, yes, that was right.

Norah cried again and said such a big fortune for such a little boy and the trustee said yes, it was a considerable amount, but then, he'd handled people like the Wilmerdings and the Goulds who had real money.

It seemed to me that they were making a lot of fuss about nothing if all this didn't involve real money.

Then Norah came into the bedroom and told me to go out and shake hands with Mr. Gilbert and the other gentleman like a Little Man. I did. Mr. Gilbert said I was Taking It like a Regular Soldier and Mr. Babcock, the trustee, said he had a boy back in Scarsdale just my age, and he hoped we'd be Real Pals.

Mr. Gilbert picked up the telephone and asked if a Notary Public could be sent up. I signed two pieces of paper. The Notary Public mumbled some things and then stamped the paper. Mr. Gilbert said that was that and he had to step on it if he wanted to get to Winnetka. Mr. Babcock said that he was staying at the University Club and if Norah wanted anything she could reach him there. They shook hands with me again and Mr. Gilbert repeated that I was a Regular Soldier. Then they picked up their straw hats and went away.

When we were alone, Norah...

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1 von 1 Kunden fanden die folgende Rezension hilfreich Von Skywalker am 1. März 2007
Format: Taschenbuch
Der Hauptdarsteller des Buches heißt Patrick Dennis wie sein Autor, und das sagt schon viel aus... ;-)

Der zehnjährige Vollwaise Patrick wird zu seiner exzentrischen Tante Mame nach New York gebraucht, seiner einzigen noch lebenden Verwandten, und stürzt damit in eine völlig andere Welt. Alle Befürchtungen der Gutmeinenden, die chaotische und viiiiiiel zu weltoffene Mame könnte ihn verderben, werden im Keim erstickt: das Gegenteil ist der Fall. Der von Natur aus nüchterne und vernünftige Patrick tut seiner überschäumenden Tante gut, und sie bewahrt ihn im Gegenzug vor der engstirnigen Kleinbürgerlichkeit, in der er sonst seiner Herkunft nach versunken wäre. Mame und Patrick lieben einander innig, haben aber mehr ein Freundes- als ein Mutter-Sohn-Verhältnis. Zusammen erleben sie die verschiedensten Abenteuer und lernen die interessantesten Menschen kennen, durchstehen die Wirtschaftskrise, den 2. Weltkrieg, jeder von beiden heiratet - aber sie bleiben einander immer verbunden.

Ein wunderschönes Plädoyer für die Liebe zum Leben in einem drolligen Stil, der von trockenem, augenzwinkerndem Humor nur so strotzt. Ein kleiner Wermutstropfen sind die vielen Anspielungen auf die Kultur der damaligen Zeit; wer sich nicht auskennt, kann verwirrt sein oder muss immer wieder im Internet nachschauen. Aber das sollte einen von der Lektüre dieses Buches um Himmels Willen nicht abhalten.
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1 von 1 Kunden fanden die folgende Rezension hilfreich Von Skywalker am 1. März 2007
Format: Taschenbuch
Die Fortsetzung von "Auntie Mame: An Irreverent Escapade" ist recht schön, kommt aber nicht ganz an das erste Buch heran. Wie versprochen nimmt Mame ihren Neffen Patrick auf eine Weltreise mit, die sie nach Paris, London, Venedig, Österreich, Russland und Asien bringt, und in der sie wieder zahlreiche Erlebnisse miteinander teilen. Die beinahe zu begeisterungsfähige Mame passt sich jedem Land in Bezug auf Kleidung, Sprache und Gebräuchen an, und Patrick versucht jedes Mal verzweifelt, sie wieder auf den Boden der Tatsachen zu bringen...

Eines wirkt leider etwas ermüdend: die Kapitel folgen fast immer dem gleichen Schema. Mame und Patrick sind in einer neuen Umgebung, versuchen, sie kennen zu lernen und sich ihr anzupassen (zumindest Mame - Patrick bleibt immer er selbst), lernen freundliche und weniger freundliche Mitmenschen aller Art kennen und alles scheint wunderbar zu sein. Aber irgendwann platzt die sprichwörtliche Bombe, man stellt die Nachteile der jeweiligen Personen, mit denen man sich angefreundet hatte, fest und muss meistens überstürzt Reißaus nehmen.

Patrick Dennis' Stil ist originell-humorvoll wie immer, aber sein Witz ist hier manchmal ein wenig bemüht und nicht ganz so überschäumend wie bei seinem ersten Buch über Auntie Mame. Aber schließlich kommt auch Auntie Mame irgendwann in die Jahre... ;-)
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1 von 1 Kunden fanden die folgende Rezension hilfreich Von michael a. willhoite am 21. März 2000
Format: Gebundene Ausgabe
When I was twelve I fell under the spell of this marvelous woman, and I'm still hooked. I estimate I've read the book and its equally charming sequel about sixteen times apiece and will undoubtedly do so again. Mame Dennis Burnside is as good as real, believe me. Few literary characters burn quite so brightly. She taught me very early that mild eccentricity is valuable, that small-mindedness is to be fought tooth and nail. In white-bread Oklahoma I knew few Jewish people, and in the chapter on the Upsons I learned a priceless lesson when I was confronted for the first time by anti- semitism, even if it was only in a book. When I got out into the world, I saw that Mame's tolerance was right and just. And if the lessons of the book weren't enough, it is screamingly funny. I couldn't call it great literature, but this delicious novel is probably as valuable a guide as any to personal integrity. Buy the book, read it and pass the word. This one is the real, right thing.
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What do you get when you cross good, clean humour with a surprizing moral statement? The answer is Auntie Mame, by Patrick Dennis.
Set in New York, in the roaring twenties, this hillarious escapede is about a fast talking and clever, yet honest and kind womam, told through the eyes of her impressionable nephew.

Suposedly, Dennis was raised by his Auntie Mame from the time when his father died, until he was able to take care of himself. She is an elegant lady, immune to the predjudices of 1920's America, who refuses to give up, even when she is in the depths of depravity. Through an unfortunate mishap, Mame is left broke, but with that spirit that is charecteristic to her, she does not let the depression depress her. She remains perserverant, and somehow makes it through. At other times, her good fortune is challenged, but Mame always finds a way out of the toughest binds.

This book has humour, romance, tragedy, action, suspence, and morals. It is fast paced, and so good that you won't want to put it down.

As Rossaland Russel said, in her classical film by the same title, "Life is a banquet, and most poor suchers are starving to death."

Mame is an "unflappable flapper" who can "charm the birds right out of the trees." I took her all around the world with me, as she is a great "friend" for long airplane flights, and those dull moments when you find yourself with nothing to do.

I am sure you will want to add this unfoorgettable woman to your own private collection of books. But I warn you, do not read it in public, for you will find it difficult to keep yourself from laughing outloud. So why not by one copy today. On second thought, buy two, because I guarantee that you will read the first copy all to pieces!
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