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小胁褨褌谢芯 蟹谐邪褋谢芯 胁 袣褉邪褩薪褨 袛懈胁
笑械泄 褉芯屑邪薪, 褟泻 芯褋褨薪薪褨泄 胁褨褌械褉 褍 胁芯谢芯褋褋褨. 袩褨褋芯泻 褋泻褉械谐芯褔械 薪邪 蟹褍斜邪褏, 邪 薪邪屑邪谐邪薪薪褟 胁谢芯胁懈褌懈 褌械锌谢芯 褌邪泻械 褋懈谢褜薪械, 褖芯 褕泻褨褉邪 邪卸 锌芯褔懈薪邪褦 锌械泻褌懈, 褏芯褔 写邪胁薪芯 斜械蟹薪邪写褨泄薪懈泄 谢懈褋褌芯锌邪写. 校 写械褋锌械褉芯胁邪薪芯屑褍 锌芯褕褍泻褍 写胁械褉褑褟褌 蟹邪锌邪褋薪芯谐芯 胁懈褏芯写褍, 谐械褉芯褟 泻懈写邪褦 胁褨写 褋械薪褌懈屑械薪褌褨胁 写芯 褑懈薪褨蟹屑褍, 邪 褌懈 写褉邪褌褍褦褕褋褟, 薪械薪邪胁懈写懈褕 褨 锌褉懈谐芯褉褌邪褦褕 写芯 谐褉褍写械泄, 褨 谐芯写褍褦褕 蟹 褉褍泻 芦褋薪褨写邪薪泻邪屑懈 锌芯械褌邪禄 (褋褨屑 褑懈谐邪褉芯泻, 褌褉懈 写芯褉褨卸泻懈, 锌褨胁锌谢褟褕泻懈 屑邪褉褨褍褋邪), 褨 泻懈胁邪褦褕 薪邪 褉芯蟹锌邪褔谢懈胁褨 薪邪褩胁薪褨 褉芯蟹褍屑褍胁邪薪薪褟, 褨 胁懈泻芯谢褍锌褍褦褕 褋泻邪谢泻懈 写懈褌褟褔懈褏 褌褉邪胁屑, 褨 写褨谢懈褕 薪邪 写胁芯褏 锌芯褏屑褨谢谢褟, 褨 谐谢邪写懈褕 锌芯 胁芯谢芯褋褋褞鈥π� 胁褨薪 胁褋械 写褍屑邪褦, 褖芯 褌芯 芯褋褨薪薪褨泄 胁褨褌械褉.
360 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2010
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1,801 people want to read
About the author
D.B.C. Pierre
28听books372听followersDBC Pierre is an Australian-born writer currently residing in Ireland. Born Peter Warren Finlay, the "DBC" stands for "Dirty But Clean". "Pierre" was a nickname bestowed on him by childhood friends after a cartoon character of that name.
Pierre was awarded the Booker Prize for fiction on 14 October 2003 for his novel Vernon God Little.
He is the third Australian to be so honoured, although he has told the British press that he prefers to consider himself a Mexican.
Pierre was awarded the Booker Prize for fiction on 14 October 2003 for his novel Vernon God Little.
He is the third Australian to be so honoured, although he has told the British press that he prefers to consider himself a Mexican.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 189 reviews
November 20, 2014
This was BRILLIANT. I'd be happy to be proved wrong, but I am prepared to say now that it's my book of 2010 - I can't imagine that I'm going to come across anything as unique, inspiring and downright excellent in the next few months.
The story begins with Gabriel Brockwell - dreamer, quasi-misanthrope, unfulfilled artist, paradoxically both a pursuer of ultimate decadence and an anti-capitalist - deciding to kill himself... but not quite immediately. The next 300 pages tell the fantastical tale of Gabriel's self-imposed final days, taking in three capital cities, an incredible cast of oddball characters, an excessive, orgiastic banquet beneath an abandoned airport, and the most bizarre and grotesque menu you've ever seen.
The narrative is wonderful, constantly experimenting with language and packed with unexpected words, succinct yet vivid descriptions, and too many remarkable truisms about human relationships, behaviour/hopes/fears/dreams, and the power of market forces than I could possibly list. The prose is experimental and colourful, yet there are perfectly formed quotes and soundbites on every page. Gabriel's voice is sublime - self-obsessed, negative and hypocritical, but funny, cynical, intelligent and brilliantly debauched as well as sweetly naive and naively charming. He's a literary Withnail, an elegantly wasted raconteur - I fell in love with the character and his flights of fancy, philosophical musings and never-ending brushes with good and bad luck.
DBC Pierre won the Booker Prize in 2003 with , which is certainly very good, and shares in common with this book a strong first-person narrative voice and playful, intricate, inventive prose; but in my opinion, Lights Out in Wonderland is better. I loved the characters, loved the narrative, loved the story. This is an extraordinary novel. READ IT.
The story begins with Gabriel Brockwell - dreamer, quasi-misanthrope, unfulfilled artist, paradoxically both a pursuer of ultimate decadence and an anti-capitalist - deciding to kill himself... but not quite immediately. The next 300 pages tell the fantastical tale of Gabriel's self-imposed final days, taking in three capital cities, an incredible cast of oddball characters, an excessive, orgiastic banquet beneath an abandoned airport, and the most bizarre and grotesque menu you've ever seen.
The narrative is wonderful, constantly experimenting with language and packed with unexpected words, succinct yet vivid descriptions, and too many remarkable truisms about human relationships, behaviour/hopes/fears/dreams, and the power of market forces than I could possibly list. The prose is experimental and colourful, yet there are perfectly formed quotes and soundbites on every page. Gabriel's voice is sublime - self-obsessed, negative and hypocritical, but funny, cynical, intelligent and brilliantly debauched as well as sweetly naive and naively charming. He's a literary Withnail, an elegantly wasted raconteur - I fell in love with the character and his flights of fancy, philosophical musings and never-ending brushes with good and bad luck.
DBC Pierre won the Booker Prize in 2003 with , which is certainly very good, and shares in common with this book a strong first-person narrative voice and playful, intricate, inventive prose; but in my opinion, Lights Out in Wonderland is better. I loved the characters, loved the narrative, loved the story. This is an extraordinary novel. READ IT.
September 6, 2011
(This book was graciously sent to me for free by W.W. Norton & Co. via 欧宝娱乐.com. I think they're going to wish they'd sent it to someone else.)
I hated Catcher in the Rye. I know it's supposed to be some kind of iconic book about about teenage angst or something, but to me Holden Caulfield was just sort of a whiny twit who created most of his problems himself. Boohooo! My parents don't understand me and my lack of effort is resulting in poor school performance and OMG SOMETIMES ADULTS LIE ABOUT THINGS! I tell you this because Lights Out in Wonderland is like all the worst things about Catcher in the Rye combined with a book Chuck Palahniuk might write after a serious head injury.
Gabriel Brockwell is twenty-five. He comes from an upper-class British family, and at the beginning of the book, finds himself in rehab. Deeply unsatisfied with his life, he decides that the best solution is to kill himself. However, before he does that, he feels that he should have at least one brilliant party first. From there, he travels around the globe, inadvertently fucking things up for almost everyone he meets. In between, he whines about how his daddy wasn't nice to him and his job was unfulfilling, and how people liked his friends more than they like him (unsurprising, really.) He has no direction in life! Things have not turned out the way he hoped/expected! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
The writing was not terrible -- there were some interesting descriptions along the way. However, it was often repetitive, but not in an interesting, witty, Palahniuk-type way, but in a repetitive way. Not to mention the mind-numbing, self-indulgent, and wholly unnecessary footnotes. YOU ARE NOT DAVID FOSTER WALLACE.
I'm sure there are a lot of people who might enjoy this book. I am just not one of them.
I hated Catcher in the Rye. I know it's supposed to be some kind of iconic book about about teenage angst or something, but to me Holden Caulfield was just sort of a whiny twit who created most of his problems himself. Boohooo! My parents don't understand me and my lack of effort is resulting in poor school performance and OMG SOMETIMES ADULTS LIE ABOUT THINGS! I tell you this because Lights Out in Wonderland is like all the worst things about Catcher in the Rye combined with a book Chuck Palahniuk might write after a serious head injury.
Gabriel Brockwell is twenty-five. He comes from an upper-class British family, and at the beginning of the book, finds himself in rehab. Deeply unsatisfied with his life, he decides that the best solution is to kill himself. However, before he does that, he feels that he should have at least one brilliant party first. From there, he travels around the globe, inadvertently fucking things up for almost everyone he meets. In between, he whines about how his daddy wasn't nice to him and his job was unfulfilling, and how people liked his friends more than they like him (unsurprising, really.) He has no direction in life! Things have not turned out the way he hoped/expected! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
The writing was not terrible -- there were some interesting descriptions along the way. However, it was often repetitive, but not in an interesting, witty, Palahniuk-type way, but in a repetitive way. Not to mention the mind-numbing, self-indulgent, and wholly unnecessary footnotes. YOU ARE NOT DAVID FOSTER WALLACE.
I'm sure there are a lot of people who might enjoy this book. I am just not one of them.
July 27, 2024
Really enjoyed this one. Like a weird cross between Catcher in the Rye, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and On the Road, if you can imagine that. Obnoxious protagonist but funny and with real character growth.
Read
October 13, 2023氐毓亘 賱賱睾丕賷丞 兀賳 兀賰賲賱賴丕... 噩乇毓丞 氐毓亘丞 噩丿丕賸 賲賳 丕賱毓丿賲賷丞 賵丕賱鬲毓亘 丕賱賷兀爻 賵丕賱賳賰丿 賲鬲乇丕賲賷 丕賱氐賮丨丕鬲 賵丕賱兀賮賰丕乇
賰丕賳 賷賲賰賳賳賷 兀賳 兀賯丕賵賲 乇睾亘鬲賷 賮賶 廿賳賴丕卅賴丕.. 廿賱丕 兀賳 賴匕丕 賷鬲賳丕賮賷 賲毓 毓賴丿 賯胤毓鬲賴 毓賱賶 賳賮爻賶 賲賳 賯亘賱貙 兀賱丕 丕爻賲丨 亘賰鬲丕亘 賱丕 賷賳丕爻亘賳賷 兀賳 賷爻鬲賳夭賮 賵賯鬲 賰鬲丕亘 兀禺乇賶 賷爻鬲丨賯貙
賵賴賰匕丕 賰丕賳 丕賱賯乇丕乇 貙貙貙
February 9, 2011
Whoosh.
There's a lot going on here. DBC Pierre really goes beyond what he did well in Vernon God Little and takes it to the next level: The little footnotes, the recipes, the little system of neologisms he's created, they all add up to make for a notetaking-worthy read.
Sure, there are some parts where it starts to slow down (the entirety of Tokyo; the beginning of Berlin), but it quickly picks up speed and heads to a completely ludicrous, yet satisfying wrap-up.
And yes, there are some heavy-handed moments of political agenda at work. It's really difficult to bypass this, but I personally didn't feel that it was too distracting to get through the novel. Perhaps it's because I'm a sympathizer, I don't know.
All in all, worth the plane trip to the land of Britain to import.
There's a lot going on here. DBC Pierre really goes beyond what he did well in Vernon God Little and takes it to the next level: The little footnotes, the recipes, the little system of neologisms he's created, they all add up to make for a notetaking-worthy read.
Sure, there are some parts where it starts to slow down (the entirety of Tokyo; the beginning of Berlin), but it quickly picks up speed and heads to a completely ludicrous, yet satisfying wrap-up.
And yes, there are some heavy-handed moments of political agenda at work. It's really difficult to bypass this, but I personally didn't feel that it was too distracting to get through the novel. Perhaps it's because I'm a sympathizer, I don't know.
All in all, worth the plane trip to the land of Britain to import.
December 6, 2010
Lights Out in Wonderland begins with these lines:
There isn鈥檛 a name for my situation. Firstly because I decided to kill myself. And then because of this idea:
I don鈥檛 have to do it immediately.
Whoosh, through a little door. It鈥檚 a limbo.
I need never answer the phone again or pay a bill. My credit score no longer matters. Fears and compulsions don鈥檛 matter. Socks don鈥檛 matter. Because I鈥檒l be dead. And who am I to die? A microwave chef. A writer of pamphlets. A product of our time. A failed student. A faulty man. A bad poet. An activist in two minds. A drinker of chocolate milk, and when there鈥檚 no chocolate, of strawberry and sometimes banana.
In times geared to the survival of the fittest, not the fittest.
Ah well. I鈥檝e always avoided mirrors but here, naked in a room with a sink and a mirror, I steal a glance. Whoosh, the weasel is gone. Suddenly I鈥檓 a sphinx with choir-boy eyes, as luminous and rude as a decadent old portrait in oils.... By way of rejoicing I pee in the sink.
This is a tale of nihilistic abandon, a thoroughly debauched and bombastically narrated journey through the entrails of Western capitalism. The narrator initially intends for his final evening before suicide to take the form of some minor pub crawl; instead, it turns into a lengthy slog through depravity that becomes so repulsive that the novel is a burden to read. But somehow, just when the entire story seems fixed to implode, it metamorphoses into something beautiful. The finale leaves the reader (or, at least, me) feeling oddly unencumbered and hopeful.
There isn鈥檛 a name for my situation. Firstly because I decided to kill myself. And then because of this idea:
I don鈥檛 have to do it immediately.
Whoosh, through a little door. It鈥檚 a limbo.
I need never answer the phone again or pay a bill. My credit score no longer matters. Fears and compulsions don鈥檛 matter. Socks don鈥檛 matter. Because I鈥檒l be dead. And who am I to die? A microwave chef. A writer of pamphlets. A product of our time. A failed student. A faulty man. A bad poet. An activist in two minds. A drinker of chocolate milk, and when there鈥檚 no chocolate, of strawberry and sometimes banana.
In times geared to the survival of the fittest, not the fittest.
Ah well. I鈥檝e always avoided mirrors but here, naked in a room with a sink and a mirror, I steal a glance. Whoosh, the weasel is gone. Suddenly I鈥檓 a sphinx with choir-boy eyes, as luminous and rude as a decadent old portrait in oils.... By way of rejoicing I pee in the sink.
This is a tale of nihilistic abandon, a thoroughly debauched and bombastically narrated journey through the entrails of Western capitalism. The narrator initially intends for his final evening before suicide to take the form of some minor pub crawl; instead, it turns into a lengthy slog through depravity that becomes so repulsive that the novel is a burden to read. But somehow, just when the entire story seems fixed to implode, it metamorphoses into something beautiful. The finale leaves the reader (or, at least, me) feeling oddly unencumbered and hopeful.
February 4, 2011
I don't think my lack of enjoyment of this book was due to the quality of the writing, so please don't let my opinion put you off reading for yourself!
However, I think the book is a bit marmite-y and it just wasn't for me and my poor tired brain this week! The writing is incredible. It's addictive and evocative and as you follow Gabriel Brockwell through his self enforced final days on earth you travel at break neck speed through loathing him and loving him and certainly feel like you've travelled London, Tokyo and Berlin in his pocket and seen everything through his eyes and unusual perception.
But for me the writing just kept swaying into self indulgent, pretentious gabbling that I understand is pivital to the character and the style of the book, but it just made me want to skip forward past all the anti-capatalist ranting and back to the story.
Certain elements, such as the fish tank rendezvous (!) are just insanely well written and so descriptive you feel like you've just watched the scene play out in front of you and need to catch your breath!
Like I said, a fantastically written book, but I can't say I actually enjoyed reading it. Glad I did though.
PS. Dont kill me Blair!
However, I think the book is a bit marmite-y and it just wasn't for me and my poor tired brain this week! The writing is incredible. It's addictive and evocative and as you follow Gabriel Brockwell through his self enforced final days on earth you travel at break neck speed through loathing him and loving him and certainly feel like you've travelled London, Tokyo and Berlin in his pocket and seen everything through his eyes and unusual perception.
But for me the writing just kept swaying into self indulgent, pretentious gabbling that I understand is pivital to the character and the style of the book, but it just made me want to skip forward past all the anti-capatalist ranting and back to the story.
Certain elements, such as the fish tank rendezvous (!) are just insanely well written and so descriptive you feel like you've just watched the scene play out in front of you and need to catch your breath!
Like I said, a fantastically written book, but I can't say I actually enjoyed reading it. Glad I did though.
PS. Dont kill me Blair!
October 12, 2012
I fell in love with this book.
I bought it a year ago, at the Parisian Shakespeare & Company bookstore and I have no idea why it took me so long to get it started.
Never in my life have I come across such a relatable character and so many plot twists. I'm sitting here all stunned, in all honesty: I don't know what to say. I'll just leave you with a few quotes:
"There isn't a name for my situation. Firstly because I decided to kill myself. And then because of this idea: I don't have to do it immediately."
"Smaller lives than yours may come and go, and the seasons within them may flourish and wither. But this night like a moonlit churchyard- this is my night."
"Because look at it, my friend: all that has ever been called love of life, is a love of things that won't happen. A love of dreams."
"How I wish I could hug her. What I wouldn't give to hug her now, that smiling, woolly person. And how important are the hugs we never had. Because some things do matter. Some things matter very much. While others don't matter at all."
I bought it a year ago, at the Parisian Shakespeare & Company bookstore and I have no idea why it took me so long to get it started.
Never in my life have I come across such a relatable character and so many plot twists. I'm sitting here all stunned, in all honesty: I don't know what to say. I'll just leave you with a few quotes:
"There isn't a name for my situation. Firstly because I decided to kill myself. And then because of this idea: I don't have to do it immediately."
"Smaller lives than yours may come and go, and the seasons within them may flourish and wither. But this night like a moonlit churchyard- this is my night."
"Because look at it, my friend: all that has ever been called love of life, is a love of things that won't happen. A love of dreams."
"How I wish I could hug her. What I wouldn't give to hug her now, that smiling, woolly person. And how important are the hugs we never had. Because some things do matter. Some things matter very much. While others don't matter at all."
August 8, 2014
No. No. No. This was an excruciating read. Where to begin? DBC Pierre's protagonist, like Holden Cauflield, is winey, pathetic, and unremarkable. This is the first book I've read where I rooted for the main character's suicide plan. And lousy with unnecessary footnotes! You have to earn footnotes! I stopped reading them early on. I did not want to give the author the satisfaction. Furthermore, Pierre's writing, like his characters, are wrung through the surreal, hallucinogenic washboard one too many times, that we stop caring. There is no ground or foundation for their humanity to stand upon. A 500 page dream sequence gets old.
Perhaps Pierre wanted the reader to experience a sense of relief at the last page, just as his main man may have felt. This was more than relief however. This was excitement that I never, ever have to read another word from this author.
Perhaps Pierre wanted the reader to experience a sense of relief at the last page, just as his main man may have felt. This was more than relief however. This was excitement that I never, ever have to read another word from this author.
March 26, 2021
兀賮賰丕乇 賲賴賲丞 賵 亘毓囟 丕賱卮乇丕乇鬲 丕賱賱睾賵賷丞 丕賱噩賲賷賱丞 賱賰賳 囟丕毓 賰賱 卮賷亍 賵爻胤 賮賵囟賵賷丞 丕賱鬲乇賰賷亘
卮禺氐賷丕 賱賱丕 兀賳氐丨 亘賯乇丕亍鬲賴 廿賱丕 賱賲賳 賱丿賷賴 賮囟賵賱 鬲噩乇亘丞 賰賱 賲丕 賴賵 賲禺鬲賱賮
卮禺氐賷丕 賱賱丕 兀賳氐丨 亘賯乇丕亍鬲賴 廿賱丕 賱賲賳 賱丿賷賴 賮囟賵賱 鬲噩乇亘丞 賰賱 賲丕 賴賵 賲禺鬲賱賮
May 6, 2020
Pierre uses this manic allegorical novel to look at the excesses of capitalism and one of its leading acts of decadence鈥� fine dining! Twenty something Gabriel's ideologies take a big hit when his anti-capitalism activism actually starts making money; this is the final straw for him and he sets out to end his life after one last binge... which takes him to Tokyo and then Berlin. Maybe to literary for me, or maybe I need to re-read it... nothing like as good as . 5 out of 12.
November 17, 2024
I am very happy to have finally finished this book. I loved Vernon God Little, which I read a long time ago. I had been looking forward therefore to reading this book, but I hated it. I did not like the characters, the premise or the storyline. The only redeeming factor was the quality of the writing. The numerous footnotes were incredibly irritating. 4/10.
March 17, 2016
This is a novel about decadence which has reached global proportions.
Gabriel Brockwell is a 25 year old anti-globalisation activist whose daddy never loved him. He is a hedonist, partial to cocaine and booze in whatever forms they come and we meet Gabriel as he wakes up in rehab (which his father has organised and paid for) and we learn of his desire to kill himself after one last, big blowout.
We follow his flight from rehab, and from England, to Tokyo where his childhood comrade 鈥� Nelson Smuts 鈥� works as an epicurean with desires to reach the top echelon of elite, high-octane catering which exists in the underworld side of the industry.
Smuts introduces Gabriel to 鈥楳arius鈥� a wine from a vine so precious it grows with the assistance of virgins鈥� pheromones and transports the imbiber with visions of its Cote d鈥橝zur slope. In Tokyo Gabriel enters a night of gangsters, poisonous fish and gangsters poisoned by fish which lands Smuts in jail.
To save his friend he must somehow pull off the impossible and find a mythical nightclub suitable for the party to end all parties hosted by a sinister party organiser and international playboy, Didier Laxalt, who alone has the power to free Smuts.
Gabriel鈥檚 voice throughout is what carries us through this novel. He has learnt that he is not worth very much to anyone, least of all himself, and his perception of our consumer-driven world 鈥� where 鈥楥onsuming went from being a privilege, to a right, to a duty鈥� - is penetrating and direct.
The story is often ridiculous, delightful and yet disgusting, and always interesting. Gabriel is a great character, an anti-hero of sorts, who causes chaos yet manages to party on throughout.
It's not a book I would recommend to everyone - if you don't like strong language then you should steer clear - but it is one hell of a ride and a novel which I will be thinking about for a long time to come.
Gabriel Brockwell is a 25 year old anti-globalisation activist whose daddy never loved him. He is a hedonist, partial to cocaine and booze in whatever forms they come and we meet Gabriel as he wakes up in rehab (which his father has organised and paid for) and we learn of his desire to kill himself after one last, big blowout.
We follow his flight from rehab, and from England, to Tokyo where his childhood comrade 鈥� Nelson Smuts 鈥� works as an epicurean with desires to reach the top echelon of elite, high-octane catering which exists in the underworld side of the industry.
Smuts introduces Gabriel to 鈥楳arius鈥� a wine from a vine so precious it grows with the assistance of virgins鈥� pheromones and transports the imbiber with visions of its Cote d鈥橝zur slope. In Tokyo Gabriel enters a night of gangsters, poisonous fish and gangsters poisoned by fish which lands Smuts in jail.
To save his friend he must somehow pull off the impossible and find a mythical nightclub suitable for the party to end all parties hosted by a sinister party organiser and international playboy, Didier Laxalt, who alone has the power to free Smuts.
Gabriel鈥檚 voice throughout is what carries us through this novel. He has learnt that he is not worth very much to anyone, least of all himself, and his perception of our consumer-driven world 鈥� where 鈥楥onsuming went from being a privilege, to a right, to a duty鈥� - is penetrating and direct.
The story is often ridiculous, delightful and yet disgusting, and always interesting. Gabriel is a great character, an anti-hero of sorts, who causes chaos yet manages to party on throughout.
It's not a book I would recommend to everyone - if you don't like strong language then you should steer clear - but it is one hell of a ride and a novel which I will be thinking about for a long time to come.
August 24, 2011
Boy, was this book an adventure. I really felt like I was right there with Gabriel on his whole journey from London, to Tokyo, to Berlin. The author made me feel like only I was "in-the-know" and privy to all the psychotic ramblings he had to share. The fact that this book starts off in a mental institution pretty much sets the tone for the whole book. Yeah, Gabriel's effed up, but he doesn't care. He's going to kill him self, ha ha. No worries.
Gabriel isn't really a likable guy though. He's mostly a prick and likes to say "bourgeois" more than Ayn Rand. The footnotes are numerous and, for the most part, irrelevant (I just finished so I sure know about irrelevant footnotes. *cringe*)
If only I could get my hands on some panda paw or koala leg, I could try out some of his recipes for my own Bacchanalian feast.
Gabriel isn't really a likable guy though. He's mostly a prick and likes to say "bourgeois" more than Ayn Rand. The footnotes are numerous and, for the most part, irrelevant (I just finished so I sure know about irrelevant footnotes. *cringe*)
If only I could get my hands on some panda paw or koala leg, I could try out some of his recipes for my own Bacchanalian feast.
March 29, 2017
2nd time reading this. I gave it 4 stars originally but on 2nd read through it truly deserves 5. Just brilliant. Loved every moment. Unique, vibrant, inspiring and surprisingly joyous.
Also, some amazing descriptions of Berlin
Also, some amazing descriptions of Berlin
September 10, 2016
Just as outrageously decadent and too much as how it portrays capitalism and modern day consumerism. It麓s a bit too much for me, but I can appreciate his stylish approach of the subject.
Read
June 24, 2016Abandoned this, not a great book.
January 14, 2013
Reading this book was an ordeal, and I鈥檓 glad it鈥檚 over, but I think it was worth it to undertake. DBC Pierre鈥檚 first book, Vernon God Little, was a masterpiece. I loved it, and I still do. It was a tiny bit slow to start, and it was a bit of an ordeal too, but the plot was captivating, it had a variety of intriguing characters and some little side plots to keep you interested. I also loved and heavily identifies with the main character.
In LOW鈥� I didn鈥檛. I legitimately hated鈥 can鈥檛 even remember his name, was it Gabriel or Frederick? I just checked, it is Gabriel Brockwell. I鈥檝e no idea why Gerd Sprecht calls him Frederick. I guess I don鈥檛 care. That comes to play a lot in this book. I. JUST. DIDN鈥橳. CARE. Gabriel is utterly pathetic and unlikeable. TWICE, in this novel he is asked of any likeable qualities he has, or even may have had at some point in his life and can come up with not a single freaking thing. In his whole life and personal definition. What kind of man is this?
Well, we do get to know him a bit by the end. I suppose the reason why it takes so long to see anything in him is because it takes so long for him to see anything in himself. The whole point of his 鈥渓imbo鈥� is that he has no self definition to float towards so he meanders meaninglessly and nowhere in particular.
This book is about him growing up in a way, finding that way to define himself, and without meaning to, he starts in the very first sentence. Albeit, he starts this growing up process with a decision to kill himself, which is not very mature at all, but the important part(though we don鈥檛 know its important yet) is merely that it is a decision. Gabriel ceases to be a bit of flotsam floating where he may, and he strikes out. He鈥檚 not grown up yet though because his only goal before death is to basically get really wasted, which is a stupid and childish last wish. He is so arrogant and stuck-up, thinks he knows everything, but he doesn鈥檛 even know who he is. I hated him so much I resolved to stop reading this book several times. What kept me going was DBC.
His writing is so surprising. It is full of unexpected twists, full of completely INSANE figurative language. I can鈥檛 understand why anyone would choose to write the way he does, and so I must conclude that he does it merely because that is the way he thinks it out onto the page. He is doubtless a seriously messed up dude. Or at least was idk maybe he鈥檚 changed like Gabriel. I thought several times throughout the book that maybe he IS Gabriel. It could be semi-autobiographical. Though please please please let none of the banquet scene be true. I was so disturbed by that sequence it actually made me want to cry, and if I had been PMSing while reading it I鈥檓 sure I would have been sobbing on the floor.
So now that I have ranted for - oops, a full page - how I hate the book and yet love the author, I鈥檒l actually get into this analysis.
Just want to get some observations out of the way. I found it too easy how well Gottfried comes to know Gabriel. I was distressed by the books lack of characters, and I wished that we could have had a slow growth of Gottfried, but then I suppose that would have shattered DBC鈥檚 construction of drawn-out depression and failures followed by a spurt of epiphany and growth. I believed the analysis in Anna, mostly. The other thing I didn鈥檛 like was SOOOO many conversations between random people. I could not understand it. I felt DBC was trying to let us absorb the culture of East Berlin, but I DIDN'T CARE and it may have been/ definitely was the worst waste of space in this book. Don鈥檛 turn yourself into something you鈥檙e not. And this book was not a conversational history of Berlin pubs. Or at least it shouldn鈥檛 have been.
I want to start with the title. Wonderland is where he dreams of going all throughout the book. The last place he wishes to be. The place of his send-off from his limbo to the underworld. When he gets to wonderland and truly sees what is there he proclaims 鈥淥ur elegant place has become a level of hell.鈥� And it could not be more true. If DBC painted with oil instead of words his banquet would resemble the famous triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights where the delights of some become the horrors of many others.
Lewis Carroll uses wonderland (in a widely embraced interpretation) as a metaphor for the place where one grows up. That鈥檚 what happens to little Alice. That鈥檚 what happens to Gabriel. He really didn鈥檛 know what he was getting himself into, but it got into him none-the-less.
When he writes 鈥渙ur elegant place has become a level of hell鈥� he doesn鈥檛 only reveal his dissallusion to wonderland, but also his true feelings to his new friends and this old relic of a bye-gone age. He loves it how it was.
UNBEARABLE PRETENSION gives way to a clarity that lets him see the world around him for what it really is. His. For the taking if he wants it. 鈥渙nly one thing underlies death. And that is an absence of love. An absence which I have in abundance.鈥� When Gerd and Gottfried pull him out of the lake (though truthfully it鈥檚 not clear if Gerd is even there or if either of them actually do anything to physically get him out of the water)it doesn鈥檛 matter that they physically pull him out (if they do) but rather that they are there, that someone noticed he was gone and went to the trouble of thinking about looking for him. He is loved. And that is all it took to save him, to change him, and to make him change his own fate, to 鈥渁ctivate his reserve powers鈥�.
鈥淣obody is stuck with anything as it is. We all must stand up and take control.鈥� 鈥淜ill the spiral.鈥� It鈥檚 very similar to the VGL quote, something like 鈥� In a world where everyone was phsycho I was too much of a damned coward to be the god of my own life.鈥�
There are a lot of parallels between these two books. A pathetic young man grows up. Learns that he has power in his own life, and uses that power to make his life better, and also to make the lives better of those who were good to him. Both books have crass and unexpected poetry to them. Both books get better as they go on. Both characters are quite distant until pretty far into the book, and both are similar to each other in several ways (Though Vernon still has all of the goodness of a quality and Gabriel has all of the bad).
Both books get quite abstract towards the end, to a very disturbing degree, in that it is a caricature of the grotesqueness of human possibility, and the stark realism of most of the book tricks the mind into seeing the absurdism as another possible reality too. God help us if either ever come true.
Both books have a saving grace. This is, that in a story where a character experiences constant failure, pain, and becomes more and more of a disappointment to the reader and himself鈥� there somehow emerges a happy ending. In VGL it so surprised me that I cried real tears of happiness and gasped like a child at a show. In LOW it was a release. I could let out everything that I didn鈥檛 even know I was holding in. I just kept sighing. Relieved that it was OVER, and that the terrors had ceased, but also I had a feeling that the terrors had also ceased for these characters, characters I had begrudgingly learned to care for. They all did what was right. Not only for themselves, but also for the world. In the end I was proud of Gabriel. Proud of this pathetic sweaty bastard who had fouled up so bad, so many would have given up. But he had a secret strength, one that had just never been fueled before. They gave him love, and he gave everything he had. Chance, drive, ingenuity, and all he could. I was proud of this pathetic mass of useless flesh I had spent 330 pages growing a steady displeasure for because he became good in a way that he didn鈥檛 have to. He changed himself for the better, and I guess if he can do it, it makes me feel like maybe someday so could I. And that鈥檚 why this terrible horrible no good book is actually worth reading, because if the scum of this very earth can learn to love and to serve others, and himself all in one short night of madness, then I know I can too. And this horror and brilliance gives me hope for myself, and for this whole retched world.
In LOW鈥� I didn鈥檛. I legitimately hated鈥 can鈥檛 even remember his name, was it Gabriel or Frederick? I just checked, it is Gabriel Brockwell. I鈥檝e no idea why Gerd Sprecht calls him Frederick. I guess I don鈥檛 care. That comes to play a lot in this book. I. JUST. DIDN鈥橳. CARE. Gabriel is utterly pathetic and unlikeable. TWICE, in this novel he is asked of any likeable qualities he has, or even may have had at some point in his life and can come up with not a single freaking thing. In his whole life and personal definition. What kind of man is this?
Well, we do get to know him a bit by the end. I suppose the reason why it takes so long to see anything in him is because it takes so long for him to see anything in himself. The whole point of his 鈥渓imbo鈥� is that he has no self definition to float towards so he meanders meaninglessly and nowhere in particular.
This book is about him growing up in a way, finding that way to define himself, and without meaning to, he starts in the very first sentence. Albeit, he starts this growing up process with a decision to kill himself, which is not very mature at all, but the important part(though we don鈥檛 know its important yet) is merely that it is a decision. Gabriel ceases to be a bit of flotsam floating where he may, and he strikes out. He鈥檚 not grown up yet though because his only goal before death is to basically get really wasted, which is a stupid and childish last wish. He is so arrogant and stuck-up, thinks he knows everything, but he doesn鈥檛 even know who he is. I hated him so much I resolved to stop reading this book several times. What kept me going was DBC.
His writing is so surprising. It is full of unexpected twists, full of completely INSANE figurative language. I can鈥檛 understand why anyone would choose to write the way he does, and so I must conclude that he does it merely because that is the way he thinks it out onto the page. He is doubtless a seriously messed up dude. Or at least was idk maybe he鈥檚 changed like Gabriel. I thought several times throughout the book that maybe he IS Gabriel. It could be semi-autobiographical. Though please please please let none of the banquet scene be true. I was so disturbed by that sequence it actually made me want to cry, and if I had been PMSing while reading it I鈥檓 sure I would have been sobbing on the floor.
So now that I have ranted for - oops, a full page - how I hate the book and yet love the author, I鈥檒l actually get into this analysis.
Just want to get some observations out of the way. I found it too easy how well Gottfried comes to know Gabriel. I was distressed by the books lack of characters, and I wished that we could have had a slow growth of Gottfried, but then I suppose that would have shattered DBC鈥檚 construction of drawn-out depression and failures followed by a spurt of epiphany and growth. I believed the analysis in Anna, mostly. The other thing I didn鈥檛 like was SOOOO many conversations between random people. I could not understand it. I felt DBC was trying to let us absorb the culture of East Berlin, but I DIDN'T CARE and it may have been/ definitely was the worst waste of space in this book. Don鈥檛 turn yourself into something you鈥檙e not. And this book was not a conversational history of Berlin pubs. Or at least it shouldn鈥檛 have been.
I want to start with the title. Wonderland is where he dreams of going all throughout the book. The last place he wishes to be. The place of his send-off from his limbo to the underworld. When he gets to wonderland and truly sees what is there he proclaims 鈥淥ur elegant place has become a level of hell.鈥� And it could not be more true. If DBC painted with oil instead of words his banquet would resemble the famous triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights where the delights of some become the horrors of many others.
Lewis Carroll uses wonderland (in a widely embraced interpretation) as a metaphor for the place where one grows up. That鈥檚 what happens to little Alice. That鈥檚 what happens to Gabriel. He really didn鈥檛 know what he was getting himself into, but it got into him none-the-less.
When he writes 鈥渙ur elegant place has become a level of hell鈥� he doesn鈥檛 only reveal his dissallusion to wonderland, but also his true feelings to his new friends and this old relic of a bye-gone age. He loves it how it was.
UNBEARABLE PRETENSION gives way to a clarity that lets him see the world around him for what it really is. His. For the taking if he wants it. 鈥渙nly one thing underlies death. And that is an absence of love. An absence which I have in abundance.鈥� When Gerd and Gottfried pull him out of the lake (though truthfully it鈥檚 not clear if Gerd is even there or if either of them actually do anything to physically get him out of the water)it doesn鈥檛 matter that they physically pull him out (if they do) but rather that they are there, that someone noticed he was gone and went to the trouble of thinking about looking for him. He is loved. And that is all it took to save him, to change him, and to make him change his own fate, to 鈥渁ctivate his reserve powers鈥�.
鈥淣obody is stuck with anything as it is. We all must stand up and take control.鈥� 鈥淜ill the spiral.鈥� It鈥檚 very similar to the VGL quote, something like 鈥� In a world where everyone was phsycho I was too much of a damned coward to be the god of my own life.鈥�
There are a lot of parallels between these two books. A pathetic young man grows up. Learns that he has power in his own life, and uses that power to make his life better, and also to make the lives better of those who were good to him. Both books have crass and unexpected poetry to them. Both books get better as they go on. Both characters are quite distant until pretty far into the book, and both are similar to each other in several ways (Though Vernon still has all of the goodness of a quality and Gabriel has all of the bad).
Both books get quite abstract towards the end, to a very disturbing degree, in that it is a caricature of the grotesqueness of human possibility, and the stark realism of most of the book tricks the mind into seeing the absurdism as another possible reality too. God help us if either ever come true.
Both books have a saving grace. This is, that in a story where a character experiences constant failure, pain, and becomes more and more of a disappointment to the reader and himself鈥� there somehow emerges a happy ending. In VGL it so surprised me that I cried real tears of happiness and gasped like a child at a show. In LOW it was a release. I could let out everything that I didn鈥檛 even know I was holding in. I just kept sighing. Relieved that it was OVER, and that the terrors had ceased, but also I had a feeling that the terrors had also ceased for these characters, characters I had begrudgingly learned to care for. They all did what was right. Not only for themselves, but also for the world. In the end I was proud of Gabriel. Proud of this pathetic sweaty bastard who had fouled up so bad, so many would have given up. But he had a secret strength, one that had just never been fueled before. They gave him love, and he gave everything he had. Chance, drive, ingenuity, and all he could. I was proud of this pathetic mass of useless flesh I had spent 330 pages growing a steady displeasure for because he became good in a way that he didn鈥檛 have to. He changed himself for the better, and I guess if he can do it, it makes me feel like maybe someday so could I. And that鈥檚 why this terrible horrible no good book is actually worth reading, because if the scum of this very earth can learn to love and to serve others, and himself all in one short night of madness, then I know I can too. And this horror and brilliance gives me hope for myself, and for this whole retched world.
February 25, 2025
This is my favourite book.
It's usually very hard to pick a favorite book , but there's a simple reason why.
Every time I read this book I come away with something new. I think of Gabriel differently , I think of the points he makes differently. When I was young I didn't get him , then I did get him and I liked him , then I did get him and I didn't like him. Last time I read it, Gabriel grated on me. He seemed so full of self importance despite all his humble babbling. but who knows how I'll feel next.
Sometimes he makes perfect sense. sometimes he is making perfect sense to distract from the fact that he has made mistakes and that he's failed to take accountability of. Sometimes it doesn't matter how self involved the point is because it's actually that good a point.
When he gets told off near the end, sometimes he deserves it and sometimes he does not. Sometimes shmuts is a psychopath weirdo and sometimes he's the Adonis Gabriel wishes he was and sometimes he's exactly who Gabriel already IS, though he himself cannot see it.
This book is more like a friend to me. One I meet with over coffee and squint at, thinking " are they different or is it just my eyes?" between us I don't know who is growing older.
A masterful work that's worth visiting and revisiting.
It's usually very hard to pick a favorite book , but there's a simple reason why.
Every time I read this book I come away with something new. I think of Gabriel differently , I think of the points he makes differently. When I was young I didn't get him , then I did get him and I liked him , then I did get him and I didn't like him. Last time I read it, Gabriel grated on me. He seemed so full of self importance despite all his humble babbling. but who knows how I'll feel next.
Sometimes he makes perfect sense. sometimes he is making perfect sense to distract from the fact that he has made mistakes and that he's failed to take accountability of. Sometimes it doesn't matter how self involved the point is because it's actually that good a point.
When he gets told off near the end, sometimes he deserves it and sometimes he does not. Sometimes shmuts is a psychopath weirdo and sometimes he's the Adonis Gabriel wishes he was and sometimes he's exactly who Gabriel already IS, though he himself cannot see it.
This book is more like a friend to me. One I meet with over coffee and squint at, thinking " are they different or is it just my eyes?" between us I don't know who is growing older.
A masterful work that's worth visiting and revisiting.
April 16, 2024
The fascination of a death row inmate鈥檚 last meal spread out over a week or so - debauchery and weirdness dialled to eleven. A funny, depressing, life affirming read.
June 26, 2018
3,5 (asi hlavn臎 kv暖li t臎m recept暖m)
September 10, 2016
This book was recommended to me in the highest terms by a friend as she was reading it. "Sex and drugs in Tokyo, London, and Berlin" she said. Shortly afterwards I stumbled over it in the library and picked it up immediately. I will admit that based on the title and my friend's description I expected a different experience; one more in touch with the Wonderland reference made on the cover. What I found was something altogether different, but not in a disappointing way.
The protagonist of this book will either suck you in or put you off right off the bat. The protagonist is very conflicted and hypocritical, with a downright mesmerizing voice. While cynical, his capacity for insight is staggering and each chapter contains very striking observations that will really make you think. I was able to connect with him very easily, and I think that whether or not you can connect with him will be the deciding factor in whether or not you will enjoy this book.
The writing style of this book is impeccable. The author experiments with all kinds of ambrosial words and the book is full of beautiful descriptive sentences and excellently quotable dialogue. I really can't stress enough how much I enjoyed the way the author wrote, and I will definitely seek out his other works for this purpose.
One of the selling points of this book is in the fact that it takes place in 3 major cities, London, Tokyo, and Berlin, though the vast majority of the book takes place in Berlin. While Berlin is an excellent location for this story and the author does a great job in making you feel like you are there, I would have liked to see more of the other cities; the time spent in London is minuscule and all of the action in Tokyo takes place in a single locale.
As for the plot, while it drags a little in the 3rd quarter, the overall structure of the book is different and outstanding. This is a book more about concept than about plot. It explores the consumer culture, the nature of excess, and has a strong anti-capitalist air. There is a profound layer of debauchery used in equal parts to seduce and repulse the reader. It makes no effort to be politically correct and has no qualms with removing you from your comfort zone in order to get across its message, and doesn't always explain its reasons to you for doing so.
While the book has a dismal tone most of the way through (after all the book begins with the assertion that the protagonist is planning to kill himself), it ends with a bright note of optimism that shines through the grit of the rest of the narrative; I thought it was an excellent ending to an imperfect but great book.
I am very excited to see what this author does next and would definitely recommend him to other readers, though his style is not for everyone, particularly the faint of heart.
The protagonist of this book will either suck you in or put you off right off the bat. The protagonist is very conflicted and hypocritical, with a downright mesmerizing voice. While cynical, his capacity for insight is staggering and each chapter contains very striking observations that will really make you think. I was able to connect with him very easily, and I think that whether or not you can connect with him will be the deciding factor in whether or not you will enjoy this book.
The writing style of this book is impeccable. The author experiments with all kinds of ambrosial words and the book is full of beautiful descriptive sentences and excellently quotable dialogue. I really can't stress enough how much I enjoyed the way the author wrote, and I will definitely seek out his other works for this purpose.
One of the selling points of this book is in the fact that it takes place in 3 major cities, London, Tokyo, and Berlin, though the vast majority of the book takes place in Berlin. While Berlin is an excellent location for this story and the author does a great job in making you feel like you are there, I would have liked to see more of the other cities; the time spent in London is minuscule and all of the action in Tokyo takes place in a single locale.
As for the plot, while it drags a little in the 3rd quarter, the overall structure of the book is different and outstanding. This is a book more about concept than about plot. It explores the consumer culture, the nature of excess, and has a strong anti-capitalist air. There is a profound layer of debauchery used in equal parts to seduce and repulse the reader. It makes no effort to be politically correct and has no qualms with removing you from your comfort zone in order to get across its message, and doesn't always explain its reasons to you for doing so.
While the book has a dismal tone most of the way through (after all the book begins with the assertion that the protagonist is planning to kill himself), it ends with a bright note of optimism that shines through the grit of the rest of the narrative; I thought it was an excellent ending to an imperfect but great book.
I am very excited to see what this author does next and would definitely recommend him to other readers, though his style is not for everyone, particularly the faint of heart.
July 26, 2012
Really, I had a love/hate relationship with this book; and finished it merely to prove it would not win. Surely most of us have fought that battle with a book or two; sometimes to give up and other times to carry on.
There were moments that I thought a paragraph, or 2-3 pages flowed nicely.
Sometimes the writing felt so disjointed I had to put the book down and come back for it to make sense. Though I actually rather liked the style of using foot notes for separate rants - and that was an aspect of the writing, and my own oral ranting and personal thought patterns that kept me reading.
I wrote down a few quotes to keep, not many.
Other times I thought to myself, how can this character possibly be 25? He's acting 15, or 20, and I really just want to smack him upside the head, frankly.
Not only that - what really bothered me, more than the immaturity or maturity of the character (articles which can be excused, because it is after all, a character), but the blatant xenophobia and ridiculous cultural stereotypes. Really? A sex scene involving an Octopus bite in Tokyo? How unoriginal and banal. Doing drugs in a former Nazi compound, and then starting to listen to Rammstein? Really? Listening to Rammstein and making middle school Nazi jokes - I'm so impressed.
Sure, attempting to stick it to Capitalism, playing with the notion of living inside a suicidal arc and general themes of learning to grow up and get on with it appeal; but frankly could have been done in a shorter storyline with a lot less drivel and clear lack of global understanding or travel experience.
I picked this up as somewhat of a beach read, get through Immigration queues read, and I was slightly embarrassed to pass it along to another traveler, and said as much when I did. It has it's moments and a few quotes - but beyond trying to save sanity when stuck in an 8 hour queue of some sort I wouldn't read it again. Perhaps I'd say otherwise were I 18, or 22 - but at 26 I just can't be bothered with some of the nonsense this character spews. I rather agree with the female character in the book that pretty much wants to smack him upside the head the majority of the time - and to avoid spoilers I won't say more than she's far more patient with him than I ever would be.
There were moments that I thought a paragraph, or 2-3 pages flowed nicely.
Sometimes the writing felt so disjointed I had to put the book down and come back for it to make sense. Though I actually rather liked the style of using foot notes for separate rants - and that was an aspect of the writing, and my own oral ranting and personal thought patterns that kept me reading.
I wrote down a few quotes to keep, not many.
Other times I thought to myself, how can this character possibly be 25? He's acting 15, or 20, and I really just want to smack him upside the head, frankly.
Not only that - what really bothered me, more than the immaturity or maturity of the character (articles which can be excused, because it is after all, a character), but the blatant xenophobia and ridiculous cultural stereotypes. Really? A sex scene involving an Octopus bite in Tokyo? How unoriginal and banal. Doing drugs in a former Nazi compound, and then starting to listen to Rammstein? Really? Listening to Rammstein and making middle school Nazi jokes - I'm so impressed.
Sure, attempting to stick it to Capitalism, playing with the notion of living inside a suicidal arc and general themes of learning to grow up and get on with it appeal; but frankly could have been done in a shorter storyline with a lot less drivel and clear lack of global understanding or travel experience.
I picked this up as somewhat of a beach read, get through Immigration queues read, and I was slightly embarrassed to pass it along to another traveler, and said as much when I did. It has it's moments and a few quotes - but beyond trying to save sanity when stuck in an 8 hour queue of some sort I wouldn't read it again. Perhaps I'd say otherwise were I 18, or 22 - but at 26 I just can't be bothered with some of the nonsense this character spews. I rather agree with the female character in the book that pretty much wants to smack him upside the head the majority of the time - and to avoid spoilers I won't say more than she's far more patient with him than I ever would be.
November 4, 2010
A 'Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas' for the age of the World Financial Crisis. This book is slowly restoring my faith in DBC Pierre. I was wary, having been burnt by his second book after loving his first, and reading a bad review of this latest. Yet when Lisa said "I hated this book but I think you'll like it," I read the first sentence, and then the second and third, and saw immediately in the narrator a like mind. As a self-confessed black sheep of society, as well as of my family, like-minds are few and far between, so I have borrowed the book and burrowed into it, much to my delight. Some may find it misanthropically immature and aloof, but people have accused me of such qualities in the past so perhaps that's the attraction...
Now that I've finished it I must admit that a less generous fellow than myself might, quite fairly, say that much of the third act does get bogged down in the kind in stodgy plotting reminiscent of one of those romantic-comedy-heist films where the audient is meant to be distracted by the hollow moralizing and miraculously high level of fortuitous coincidence and loose-end knot-tying by staring at Clooney, Catherine Zeta-Jones or Sinatra, or in this case remembering the poetry that pulled one into the novel in the first place. Not that I would say such a thing myself, being the forgiving fellow that I am (although it did lead me to dance between three or four stars this morning.)
That section aside the book did find it's legs for me at the very end. Overall the fluid style of it's earlier sections make it a more than worthwhile read. I was very glad I'd stayed till the last page when I did get there.
Now that I've finished it I must admit that a less generous fellow than myself might, quite fairly, say that much of the third act does get bogged down in the kind in stodgy plotting reminiscent of one of those romantic-comedy-heist films where the audient is meant to be distracted by the hollow moralizing and miraculously high level of fortuitous coincidence and loose-end knot-tying by staring at Clooney, Catherine Zeta-Jones or Sinatra, or in this case remembering the poetry that pulled one into the novel in the first place. Not that I would say such a thing myself, being the forgiving fellow that I am (although it did lead me to dance between three or four stars this morning.)
That section aside the book did find it's legs for me at the very end. Overall the fluid style of it's earlier sections make it a more than worthwhile read. I was very glad I'd stayed till the last page when I did get there.
June 22, 2022
馃摎"小袙袉孝袥袨 袟袚袗小袥袨 袙 袣袪袗袊袧袉 袛袠袙"
馃摎 袛褨袘褨小褨 袩'袆袪
馃摎 袩械褉械泻谢邪写 蟹 邪薪谐谢褨泄褋褜泻芯褩 - 袚邪谢懈薪邪 楔懈褟薪
馃摎 袥褜胁褨胁, 袥褨谐邪 袩褉械褋, 2012
"携泻褖芯 胁邪褕邪 械褌懈褔薪邪 屑芯写械谢褜 褉褍泄薪褍褦 胁邪褋 - 蟹屑褨薪褨褌褜 屑芯写械谢褜."
小胁褨褌谢芯 薪械 褌械 褖芯 蟹谐邪褋谢芯 胁 泻褉邪褩薪褨 写懈胁, - 胁芯薪芯 斜褉褍褌邪谢褜薪芯 胁懈褉褍斜懈谢芯褋褟 褉褨蟹泻懈屑 芯写薪芯褔邪褋薪懈屑 泻谢邪褑邪薪薪褟屑 褍褋褨褏 薪邪褟胁薪懈褏 锌褉芯卸械泻褌芯褉褨胁, 褖芯 谢懈褏芯胁褨褋薪懈屑 械褏芯屑 锌芯胁褨写谢褍薪褞胁邪谢芯 胁褨写 褏芯谢芯写薪懈褏 褋褌褨薪 锌褍褋褌芯谐芯 胁械谢懈褔械蟹薪芯谐芯 锌褉懈屑褨褖械薪薪褟, 褟泻械 屑懈 胁胁邪卸邪谢懈 褉械邪谢褜薪褨褋褌褞, 褋邪屑芯褌褍卸泻懈 写芯锌芯胁薪褞褞褔懈 褩褩 褋褌褉芯泻邪褌懈屑懈 械谢械屑械薪褌邪屑懈-写械泻芯褉邪褑褨褟屑懈, 邪卸 锌芯泻懈 锌芯胁薪褨褋褌褞 薪械 锌芯写芯褉芯褋谢褨褕邪谢懈.
啸褌芯 斜 屑褨谐 锌芯写褍屑邪褌懈, 褖芯 泻薪懈卸泻邪 蟹 褌邪泻芯褞 写械锌褉械褋懈胁薪芯褞 薪邪蟹胁芯褞 褨 蟹 谢褟褋械 褍 胁懈写褨 蟹邪褕屑芯褉谐褍, 褟泻邪 屑褨褋褌懈褌褜 褨褋褌芯褉褨褞, 褖芯 胁褨写褉邪蟹褍 锌芯褔懈薪邪褦褌褜褋褟 褉褨褕械薪薪褟屑 锌芯屑械褉褌懈, 斜褍写械 褋锌芯胁薪械薪邪 薪邪褋锌褉邪胁写褨 褌邪泻芯褩 卸邪谐懈 写芯 卸懈褌褌褟?
袦邪褞褔懈 写芯褋胁褨写 屑邪泄卸械 锌械褉械写褨薪褎邪褉泻褌薪芯谐芯 褋褌邪薪褍 胁褨写 褔懈褌邪薪薪褟 "袙械褉薪芯薪邪 袚芯褋锌芯写邪 袥褨褌褌谢邪", 谢械写褜 锌芯褌褨屑 锌械褉械卸懈胁褕懈 "小薪褨写邪薪芯泻 蟹 袘芯褉写卸褨邪", 蟹谐邪写褍褞褔懈 褟泻懈泄 褋械褉褑械 写芯 褌械锌械褉 锌褉芯胁邪谢褞褦褌褜褋褟 泻褍写懈褋褜 褍 斜械蟹芯写薪褞 - 褟 褌邪泻懈 胁锌芯谢褞胁邪谢邪 褌褉械褌褨泄 胁懈写邪薪懈泄 褍泻褉邪褩薪褋褜泻芯褞 褉芯屑邪薪 袛褨袘褨小褨 袩'褦褉邪, 褟泻懈泄 褕褍泻邪谢邪 屑褨褋褟褑褟屑懈 褨 屑芯褟 褔邪褋芯屑 薪械写芯褉械褔薪邪 胁锌械褉褌褨褋褌褜 薪邪 褑械泄 褉邪蟹 褍胁褨薪褔邪谢邪褋褜 褍褋锌褨褏芯屑. 孝芯卸 锌芯泻懈 褟, 褌褉懈胁芯卸薪芯 褔懈褌邪褞褔懈, 褔邪褋 胁褨写 褔邪褋褍 胁褨褕邪谢邪 胁 锌械褌谢褨 褋胁褨泄 屑褨蟹懈薪械褑褜 (斜芯 胁 褑械泄 褋褍褩褑懈写邪谢褜薪懈泄 屑褨薪褨-褨薪褋褌褉褍屑械薪褌 斜褨谢褜褕械 薪褨褔芯谐芯 薪械 胁谢邪蟹懈谢芯), 邪 胁懈屑懈泻邪褞褔懈 褋胁褨褌谢芯 胁 泻褨屑薪邪褌褨 褕邪褉邪褏邪谢邪褋褟 胁薪芯褔褨 褋邪谢邪褌芯胁芯谐芯 褋褟泄胁邪 芯斜泻谢邪写懈薪泻懈 薪邪 褌褍屑斜芯褔褑褨, 锌械褉褨芯写懈褔薪芯 蟹邪斜褍胁邪褞褔懈 锌褉芯 胁屑褨褋褌 褎谢褍芯褉械褋褑械薪褌薪懈褏 械谢械屑械薪褌褨胁 褍 褩褩 褎邪褉斜褨, - 卸懈褌懈 褑懈屑 褋胁褨褌芯屑 褉芯屑邪薪褍 胁懈褟胁懈谢芯褋褟 褌邪泻懈屑 褋邪屑懈屑 薪械褋褌械褉锌薪芯 写懈褋泻芯屑褎芯褉褌薪懈屑, 褟泻 褨 锌芯锌械褉械写薪褨屑懈 写胁芯屑邪, 斜芯 褌邪泻懈泄 褍卸械 蟹褍褏胁邪谢懈泄 褑械泄 邪胁褌芯褉. 袩褨写胁邪卸褍褦 胁褋械褉械写懈薪褨 褖芯褋褜 卸懈胁械 褨 薪邪褏邪斜薪芯 锌懈褌邪褦, 褔懈 斜芯谢懈褌褜. 携泻 谢褨泻邪褉 薪邪 芯谐谢褟写褨. 袗 褌邪泻 褖芯褋褜 胁褨写褔褍胁邪褦褕?.. 袗 褌械锌械褉?
"袘芯卸械褋褌胁械薪薪褨褋褌褜 写芯褋褟谐邪褦褌褜褋褟 褔械褉械蟹 胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟 - 褔懈 褌芯 屑懈 褍褌褉懈屑褍褦屑芯褋褟 胁褨写 胁褨写褔褍褌褌褨胁, 褔懈 锌芯褌褍褉邪褦屑芯 褩屑, 卸懈褌褌褟 褨褋薪褍褦 胁褨写薪芯褋薪芯 褌芯谐芯, 薪邪褋泻褨谢褜泻懈 谐谢懈斜芯泻芯 屑懈 胁褨写褔褍胁邪褦屑芯."
孝芯 卸 薪邪 锌械褉褕懈泄 锌芯谐谢褟写 褑械泄 褉芯屑邪薪 锌褉芯 26-褉褨褔薪芯谐芯 薪邪褉泻芯蟹邪谢械卸薪芯谐芯 斜褉懈褌邪薪褑褟 覑械斜褉褨械谢邪 袘褉芯泻胁械谢谢邪, 褟泻懈泄 胁褌褨泻邪褦 蟹 褉械邪斜褨谢褨褌邪褑褨泄薪芯谐芯 褑械薪褌褉褍, 褖芯斜 胁谢邪褕褌褍胁邪褌懈 械褎械泻褌薪械 褋邪屑芯谐褍斜褋褌胁芯, 邪谢械 胁锌谢褍褌褍褦褌褜褋褟 褍 薪懈蟹泻褍 胁懈锌邪写泻芯胁懈褏 锌芯写褨泄, 褟泻褨 锌芯褋褌褨泄薪芯 胁褨写褌械褉屑褨薪芯胁褍褞褌褜 斜邪卸邪薪械. 袩械胁薪邪 泻芯屑褨褔薪褨褋褌褜 褌邪泻芯谐芯 褉芯蟹泻谢邪写褍 锌芯写褨泄 褍褉褨胁薪芯胁邪卸械薪邪, 褟泻 褨 褍 "袙械褉薪芯薪褨...", 褌褉邪谐褨褔薪懈屑 褋胁褨褌芯胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟屑 谐械褉芯褟, 邪谢械 褌褍褌 褑械 - 械泻蟹懈褋褌械薪褑褨泄薪褨 褉芯蟹写褍屑懈 薪邪 褌谢褨 谢褟褔薪芯谐芯 蟹芯斜褉邪卸械薪薪褟 泻邪锌褨褌邪谢褨蟹屑褍, 褖械写褉芯 锌褉懈锌褉邪胁谢械薪褨 写械泻邪写械薪褌褋褜泻懈屑 褋芯褍褋芯屑. 小芯褍褋, 写芯 褉械褔褨, 写芯褋懈褌褜 谐芯褋褌褉懈泄. 效芯谐芯 胁邪褉褌械 褌褨谢褜泻懈 锌械褉械芯褋屑懈褋谢械薪薪褟 IKEA, 褟泻 锌邪褋褌泻懈 写谢褟 芯褉写懈 芯写懈薪懈褑褜 锌褉懈斜褍褌泻褍, 蟹 锌芯谢械谐谢懈屑懈 褍 "胁褨胁邪褉褨褍屑褨 谢褞写褋褜泻懈褏 褋谢邪斜懈薪" 褨 蟹邪褌芯褉邪屑懈 锌芯褉邪薪械薪懈褏 斜褨谢褟 泻邪褋, 泻褍写懈 褌懈 锌褉芯斜懈胁邪褦褕褋褟 蟹 锌芯褉芯卸薪褨屑懈 褉褍泻邪屑懈, 屑芯胁 褦褉械褌懈泻 褔懈 褍褉邪卸械薪邪 泻谢褨褌懈薪邪 胁 褨屑褍薪薪褨泄 褋懈褋褌械屑褨 薪邪褌芯胁锌褍.
袩褉芯薪懈泻谢懈胁褨褋褌褜 褉芯蟹褍屑褨薪薪褟 褋褍褋锌褨谢褜薪芯-锌芯谢褨褌懈褔薪懈褏 锌褉芯褑械褋褨胁 覑械斜褉褨械谢械屑, 锌褉懈锌褉邪胁谢械薪邪 褔芯褉薪懈屑 谐褍屑芯褉芯屑, 锌褨写褋懈谢褞褦 褎邪褌邪谢褨蟹屑. 小褌芯褟褔懈 褋械褉械写 胁懈褉褍 卸懈褌褌褟 蟹邪泻褨薪褔械薪懈屑 谢褍蟹械褉芯屑, 薪械 屑邪褞褔懈 屑芯卸谢懈胁芯褋褌褨 褉芯蟹泻褉懈褌懈褋褟 胁谢邪褋薪懈屑 胁薪褍褌褉褨褕薪褨屑 褋懈谢邪屑, 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢褞褞褔懈 胁 褑褜芯屑褍 胁褨写褋褍褌薪褨褋褌褜 褋械薪褋褍 卸懈褌褌褟, 褟泻 褨 褍 写懈褋谐邪褉屑芯薪褨褩 褨褋薪褍胁邪薪薪褟 胁 芯褌芯褔械薪薪褨 锌芯褋械褉械写薪芯褋褌褨, 谐芯谢芯胁薪懈泄 谐械褉芯泄 锌芯褉褍褕褍褦 械褌懈褔薪褨 锌褉邪胁懈谢邪, 蟹邪泻芯薪懈, 锌谢邪薪懈 褨薪褕懈褏 谢褞写械泄 褌邪 褨薪褕褍 薪械褑褨泻邪胁褍 褎褨谐薪褞, 褉褍褏邪褞褔懈褋褜 写芯 芯屑褉褨褟薪芯谐芯 褋邪屑芯谐褍斜褋褌胁邪.
袙蟹邪谐邪谢褨 胁械褋褜 褌械泻褋褌 锌芯胁芯谢褨 蟹斜懈褉邪褦褌褜褋褟 写芯 谐褍褉屑邪薪薪芯褩 褎械褦褉褨褩 - 泻褍谢褨薪邪褉薪芯谐芯 褕邪谢械薪褋褌胁邪 薪邪 屑械卸褨 斜芯卸械胁褨谢谢褟, 邪 芯褋褌邪薪薪褨 褉芯蟹写褨谢懈 泻芯褉芯褌褕邪褞褌褜 褨 薪褨斜懈 锌芯褏邪锌褑械屑 锌械褉械褉懈胁邪褞褌褜褋褟 胁懈褕褍泻邪薪懈屑懈 褉械褑械锌褌邪屑懈 蟹邪锌邪屑芯褉芯褔谢懈胁懈褏 褋褌褉邪胁. 肖褨薪邪谢褜薪邪 锌芯写褨褟 褋褌邪褦 褑械薪褌褉芯屑 褌褟卸褨薪薪褟 褍褋褨褏 写褉褨斜薪褨褕懈褏 锌芯写褨泄, 蟹邪褌褟谐褍褞褔懈 褍 褋胁芯褦 锌械泻械谢褜薪械 褟写褉芯 薪邪写屑褨褉薪芯褩 褉芯蟹泻芯褕褨, 褌邪 锌械褉械褌胁芯褉褞褞褔懈褋褜 胁褉械褕褌褨 褉械褕褌 褍 谐邪薪械斜薪械 褋胁懈薪褋褌胁芯 斜邪谐邪褌褨褩胁, 褖芯 褋褌邪褦 锌褉芯屑芯胁懈褋褌芯 褋懈屑胁芯谢褨褔薪懈屑. 袙芯薪邪 胁褨写斜褍胁邪褦褌褜褋褟 胁褋械褉械写懈薪褨 谐褨谐邪薪褌褋褜泻芯谐芯 锌褉懈屑褨褖械薪薪褟 褦写懈薪芯褩 褍 褋胁芯褦屑褍 褉芯写褨 邪褉褏褨褌械泻褌褍褉薪芯褩 锌邪屑'褟褌泻懈 薪邪褑懈褋褌褋褜泻芯褩 袧褨屑械褔褔懈薪懈 - 邪械褉芯锌芯褉褌褍 孝械屑锌械谢褜谐芯褎, 褟泻懈泄 锌褍褋褌褍褦 锌械褉械写 蟹邪泻褉懈褌褌褟屑, 卸懈胁褍褔懈 芯写薪懈屑 卸邪谢褞谐褨写薪懈屑 泻褨芯褋泻芯屑 胁褋械褉械写懈薪褨.
"袩褉芯褋褌褨褉 褉邪锌褌芯胁芯 胁懈褟胁谢褟褦褌褜褋褟 屑芯写械谢谢褞 屑芯谐芯 锌褨写褋胁褨写芯屑芯谐芯. 孝械屑薪芯谐芯, 谐薪懈谢芯谐芯, 锌芯芯褉邪薪芯谐芯 褌褍薪械谢褟屑懈. 袟 芯写薪褨褦褞 泻褉懈褏褨褌薪芯褞 斜谢懈褋泻褨褌泻芯褞 锌芯褋械褉械写懈薪褨."
袉 写懈胁薪芯, 褖芯 芯褑褟 泻褉懈褏褨褌薪邪 斜谢懈褋泻褨褌泻邪 褋胁褨褌谢邪 褨薪芯写褨 蟹写邪褌薪邪 芯褋胁褨褌懈褌懈 褍褋褞 褌械屑褉褟胁褍. 袘芯 薪邪褋锌褉邪胁写褨 胁褋褟 褑褟 褨褋褌芯褉褨褟 - 锌褉芯 写芯褉芯褋谢褨褕邪薪薪褟 褔械褉械蟹 褋邪屑芯褉褍泄薪邪褑褨褞 褨 褋懈屑胁芯谢褨褔薪械 胁斜懈胁褋褌胁芯 写懈褌懈薪懈 胁 褋芯斜褨. 携泻褖芯 屑懈 褋锌褉懈泄屑邪褦屑芯 褋胁褨褌, 褟泻 泻褉邪褩薪褍 写懈胁, 褨薪褎邪薪褌懈谢褜薪芯 褔械泻邪褞褔懈 褌褨谢褜泻懈 褍胁邪谐懈 写芯 褋胁芯褦褩 锌械褉褋芯薪懈, 胁懈蟹薪邪薪薪褟 褨 泻芯屑褎芯褉褌褍, 褌芯 褔械褉械蟹 锌械胁薪懈泄 褔邪褋 褨蟹 卸邪褏芯屑 锌芯屑褨褔邪褦屑芯, 褖芯 泻邪蟹泻邪 褉芯蟹胁邪谢褞褦褌褜褋褟, 邪 褋械薪褋 斜褍写褜-褟泻懈褏 斜邪卸邪薪褜 锌芯褋褌褍锌芯胁芯 蟹屑械薪褕褍褦褌褜褋褟 褨 胁褉械褕褌褨 泻芯谢邪锌褋褍褦, 蟹邪褌褜屑邪褉械薪懈泄 芯褔械胁懈写薪懈屑懈 薪械胁写邪褔邪屑懈. 笑械泄 薪械锌褉芯褋褌懈泄 褕谢褟褏, 褟泻懈屑 褍 褌械泻褋褌褨 胁芯谢芯褔邪褌褜褋褟 写懈褌褟褔褨 褌褉邪胁屑懈, 薪邪 褎芯薪褨 袥芯薪写芯薪邪, 携锌芯薪褨褩 褨 袘械褉谢褨薪褍 - 褌褉褜芯褏 邪斜褋芯谢褞褌薪芯 褉褨蟹薪懈褏 褋胁褨褌褨胁, 蟹邪胁械褉褕褍褦褌褜褋褟 芯谐懈写薪芯褞 泻褍谢褜屑褨薪邪褑褨褦褞, 褟泻邪 褋褌邪谢邪褋褟 褔械褉械蟹 褌械, 褖芯 -
"笑褨薪薪芯褋褌褨 褉芯蟹锌邪写邪谢懈褋褜, 芯斜褨褑褟薪泻懈 胁褨写褏芯写懈谢懈: 褍卸械 褋褌邪胁褋褟 胁械褋褜 褋械泻褋, 胁懈褔械褉锌邪胁褋褟 褎邪谢褜褕懈胁懈泄 褋屑褨褏, 锌褉芯泻褉褍褌懈谢懈褋褜 褍褋褨 胁懈泻褉褍褌邪褋懈, 胁懈泻褉懈胁懈谢懈褋褜 褍褋褨 褨褋褌懈薪懈. 袙邪薪褌邪卸褨胁泻懈 锌械褉械褌胁芯褉懈谢懈褋褜 薪邪 谢芯谐褨褋褌懈泻褍, 斜芯屑斜邪褉写褍胁邪薪薪褟 - 薪邪 褋胁芯斜芯写褍, 泻邪褉褌芯锌谢褟 褎褉褨 - 薪邪 "袚械锌锌褨 屑褨谢", 泻芯薪褌褉邪泻褌懈 - 薪邪 褏懈褌褉芯褖褨, 褨 薪邪胁褨褌褜 褋谢芯胁芯 "褏褍泄" 褋褌邪谢芯 薪邪写褌芯 胁卸懈胁邪薪懈屑, 邪斜懈 薪懈屑 薪邪褋芯谢芯写卸褍胁邪褌懈褋褜."
袟写邪褦褌褜褋褟, 褌邪泻械 斜芯谢褨褋薪芯 褔褍褌谢懈胁械 褋锌褉懈泄薪褟褌褌褟 褋胁褨褌褍 薪械 屑芯卸械 锌褉懈胁械褋褌懈 薪褨 写芯 褔芯谐芯 褏芯褉芯褕芯谐芯. 袗谢械...
袪芯屑邪薪 屑褨褋褌懈褌褜 胁懈褌芯薪褔械薪褍 褋懈屑械褌褉褨褞. 袩芯褔懈薪邪褞褔懈褋褜 褋谢芯胁邪屑懈 -"袦芯褟 褋懈褌褍邪褑褨褟 薪械 屑邪褦 薪邪蟹胁懈. 袧邪泄锌械褉褕械 褌芯屑褍, 褖芯 褟 胁懈褉褨褕懈胁 褋械斜械 胁斜懈褌懈. 袗 锌芯褌褨屑 - 褔械褉械蟹 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟: 褟 薪械 屑褍褕褍 褉芯斜懈褌懈 褑褜芯谐芯 薪械谐邪泄薪芯", - 胁褨薪 蟹邪泻褨薪褔褍褦褌褜褋褟 薪懈屑懈 卸, 邪谢械 蟹 芯写薪懈屑 锌褉芯褌懈谢械卸薪懈屑 薪褞邪薪褋芯屑:
"袦芯褟 褋懈褌褍邪褑褨褟 薪械 屑邪褦 薪邪蟹胁懈. 袧邪泄锌械褉褕械 褌芯屑褍, 褖芯 褟 胁懈褉褨褕懈胁 卸懈褌懈. 袗 锌芯褌褨屑 - 褔械褉械蟹 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟: 褟 薪械 屑褍褕褍 褉芯斜懈褌懈 褑褜芯谐芯 薪械谐邪泄薪芯."
袗 锌芯泻懈 胁懈 薪械薪邪胁懈写懈褌械 屑械薪械 蟹邪 褋锌芯泄谢械褉, 胁写褍屑邪泄褌械褋褜, 褖芯 褌邪泻懈泄 锌褨写褏褨写 - 锌芯胁薪邪 锌褉芯褌懈谢械卸薪褨褋褌褜 褍褋褨屑 锌芯褕懈褉械薪懈屑 屑芯褌懈胁褍褞褔懈屑 蟹邪泻谢懈泻邪屑 写芯 "卸懈褌懈 褌褍褌 褨 褌械锌械褉", "卸懈褌褌褟 胁褨写斜褍胁邪褦褌褜褋褟 锌褉芯褋褌芯 蟹邪褉邪蟹", 褌邪 锌芯写褨斜薪芯褩 锌褨写薪械褋械薪芯褩 屑邪褟褔薪褨. 袗写卸械 薪邪褋锌褉邪胁写褨 褑械泄 锌褋械胁写芯锌芯蟹懈褌懈胁薪懈泄 锌褨写褏褨写 写芯胁芯谢褨 薪邪锌褉褍卸褍褦, 斜芯 卸 卸懈褌懈 - 褟泻 褔芯屑褍褋褜 胁懈褟胁谢褟褦褌褜褋褟 - 写芯胁芯谢褨 褔邪褋褌芯 薪械锌褉懈褦屑薪芯, 褌芯屑褍 薪械 蟹邪胁卸写懈 屑芯卸谢懈胁芯 胁懈褔邪胁懈褌懈 褨蟹 褋械斜械 褉邪写褨褋褌褜, 褟泻 芯褋褌邪薪薪褨 泻褉邪锌谢褨 蟹褍斜薪芯褩 锌邪褋褌懈 蟹 褌褞斜懈泻邪. 袧邪褌芯屑褨褋褌褜 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟 谐械褉芯褟, 褖芯 薪械芯斜芯胁'褟蟹泻芯胁芯 褉芯斜懈褌懈 褨蟹 卸懈褌褌褟 (褟泻 褨 蟹褨 褋屑械褉褌褨) 褖芯褋褜 薪邪谐邪谢褜薪械 - 锌褨写褕褌芯胁褏褍褦 薪邪褋 写芯 胁薪褍褌褉褨褕薪褜芯谐芯 褋锌芯泻芯褞 蟹 薪械褋锌芯写褨胁邪薪芯谐芯 斜芯泻褍, 写邪褞褔懈 褋芯斜褨 褔邪褋 薪邪 胁褋械.
孝邪泻懈屑懈 卸 薪械褋锌芯写褨胁邪薪懈屑懈 褉褨褕械薪薪褟屑懈 胁'褦褌褜褋褟 褨 褋邪屑 褋褞卸械褌, 褟泻 邪薪邪泻芯薪写邪, 胁褋械褉械写懈薪褨 褟泻芯褩 屑褨褋褌懈褌褜褋褟 芯褋薪芯胁薪邪 褋褌褉邪胁邪 (锌褉芯泻芯胁褌薪褍褌械 谢褞写褋褜泻械 写懈褌褟, 褟泻械 薪邪褋锌褉邪胁写褨 胁懈褟胁谢褟褦褌褜褋褟 褨谢褞蟹褨褦褞). 袗谢械 褨 褑械 薪械 锌芯写邪褦褌褜褋褟 谐芯谢芯胁薪芯褞 褋褌褉邪胁芯褞 写褨泄褋褌胁邪. 袘芯 薪邪泄胁邪卸谢懈胁褨褕懈屑 锌芯褋懈谢芯屑 褍 褉芯屑邪薪褨 写芯 褔懈褌邪褔邪-谐褍褉屑邪薪邪 褦 褌胁械褉写卸械薪薪褟, 褖芯 "袛褨邪锌邪蟹芯薪 械褎械泻褌懈胁薪芯褩 锌芯褌褍卸薪芯褋褌褨 薪邪褋芯谢芯写懈 蟹邪褏芯胁邪薪懈泄 褍 锌芯锌械褉械写薪褜芯屑褍 屑芯屑械薪褌褨."
孝芯 卸 薪邪泄泻褉邪褖械 谢懈褕邪褦褌褜褋褟 蟹 薪邪屑懈 褌褨谢褜泻懈 褌芯写褨, 褟泻褖芯 屑懈 锌芯泻懈写邪褦屑芯 褨 胁褨写锌褍褋泻邪褦屑芯 泄芯谐芯 薪邪 泻褍谢褜屑褨薪邪褑褨褩, 邪 褌芯褔薪褨褕械 - 蟹邪 褋械泻褍薪写褍 写芯...
P. S . 些芯写芯 褋邪屑芯谐芯 胁懈写邪薪薪褟 - 芯写薪邪 蟹 薪邪泄泻褉邪褖懈褏 锌褉芯写褍屑邪薪懈褏 泻芯薪褑械锌褑褨泄, 褟泻褨 褟 斜邪褔懈谢邪. 袧械褋褌褟屑薪邪 械褋褌械褌懈泻邪 褍 胁褋褜芯屑褍. 袪芯屑邪薪 褉邪写卸褍, 褟泻褖芯 胁懈 薪械 斜芯褩褌械褋褟 褋屑褨谢懈胁芯 谐褉邪褌懈褋褟 褨蟹 褋胁芯褩屑懈 褑褨薪薪芯褋褌褟屑懈. 孝褨谢褜泻懈 褋锌械褉褕褍 锌械褉械泻芯薪邪泄褌械褋褜, 褔懈 胁芯薪懈 褌芯褔薪芯 胁邪褕褨.
馃摎 袛褨袘褨小褨 袩'袆袪
馃摎 袩械褉械泻谢邪写 蟹 邪薪谐谢褨泄褋褜泻芯褩 - 袚邪谢懈薪邪 楔懈褟薪
馃摎 袥褜胁褨胁, 袥褨谐邪 袩褉械褋, 2012
"携泻褖芯 胁邪褕邪 械褌懈褔薪邪 屑芯写械谢褜 褉褍泄薪褍褦 胁邪褋 - 蟹屑褨薪褨褌褜 屑芯写械谢褜."
小胁褨褌谢芯 薪械 褌械 褖芯 蟹谐邪褋谢芯 胁 泻褉邪褩薪褨 写懈胁, - 胁芯薪芯 斜褉褍褌邪谢褜薪芯 胁懈褉褍斜懈谢芯褋褟 褉褨蟹泻懈屑 芯写薪芯褔邪褋薪懈屑 泻谢邪褑邪薪薪褟屑 褍褋褨褏 薪邪褟胁薪懈褏 锌褉芯卸械泻褌芯褉褨胁, 褖芯 谢懈褏芯胁褨褋薪懈屑 械褏芯屑 锌芯胁褨写谢褍薪褞胁邪谢芯 胁褨写 褏芯谢芯写薪懈褏 褋褌褨薪 锌褍褋褌芯谐芯 胁械谢懈褔械蟹薪芯谐芯 锌褉懈屑褨褖械薪薪褟, 褟泻械 屑懈 胁胁邪卸邪谢懈 褉械邪谢褜薪褨褋褌褞, 褋邪屑芯褌褍卸泻懈 写芯锌芯胁薪褞褞褔懈 褩褩 褋褌褉芯泻邪褌懈屑懈 械谢械屑械薪褌邪屑懈-写械泻芯褉邪褑褨褟屑懈, 邪卸 锌芯泻懈 锌芯胁薪褨褋褌褞 薪械 锌芯写芯褉芯褋谢褨褕邪谢懈.
啸褌芯 斜 屑褨谐 锌芯写褍屑邪褌懈, 褖芯 泻薪懈卸泻邪 蟹 褌邪泻芯褞 写械锌褉械褋懈胁薪芯褞 薪邪蟹胁芯褞 褨 蟹 谢褟褋械 褍 胁懈写褨 蟹邪褕屑芯褉谐褍, 褟泻邪 屑褨褋褌懈褌褜 褨褋褌芯褉褨褞, 褖芯 胁褨写褉邪蟹褍 锌芯褔懈薪邪褦褌褜褋褟 褉褨褕械薪薪褟屑 锌芯屑械褉褌懈, 斜褍写械 褋锌芯胁薪械薪邪 薪邪褋锌褉邪胁写褨 褌邪泻芯褩 卸邪谐懈 写芯 卸懈褌褌褟?
袦邪褞褔懈 写芯褋胁褨写 屑邪泄卸械 锌械褉械写褨薪褎邪褉泻褌薪芯谐芯 褋褌邪薪褍 胁褨写 褔懈褌邪薪薪褟 "袙械褉薪芯薪邪 袚芯褋锌芯写邪 袥褨褌褌谢邪", 谢械写褜 锌芯褌褨屑 锌械褉械卸懈胁褕懈 "小薪褨写邪薪芯泻 蟹 袘芯褉写卸褨邪", 蟹谐邪写褍褞褔懈 褟泻懈泄 褋械褉褑械 写芯 褌械锌械褉 锌褉芯胁邪谢褞褦褌褜褋褟 泻褍写懈褋褜 褍 斜械蟹芯写薪褞 - 褟 褌邪泻懈 胁锌芯谢褞胁邪谢邪 褌褉械褌褨泄 胁懈写邪薪懈泄 褍泻褉邪褩薪褋褜泻芯褞 褉芯屑邪薪 袛褨袘褨小褨 袩'褦褉邪, 褟泻懈泄 褕褍泻邪谢邪 屑褨褋褟褑褟屑懈 褨 屑芯褟 褔邪褋芯屑 薪械写芯褉械褔薪邪 胁锌械褉褌褨褋褌褜 薪邪 褑械泄 褉邪蟹 褍胁褨薪褔邪谢邪褋褜 褍褋锌褨褏芯屑. 孝芯卸 锌芯泻懈 褟, 褌褉懈胁芯卸薪芯 褔懈褌邪褞褔懈, 褔邪褋 胁褨写 褔邪褋褍 胁褨褕邪谢邪 胁 锌械褌谢褨 褋胁褨泄 屑褨蟹懈薪械褑褜 (斜芯 胁 褑械泄 褋褍褩褑懈写邪谢褜薪懈泄 屑褨薪褨-褨薪褋褌褉褍屑械薪褌 斜褨谢褜褕械 薪褨褔芯谐芯 薪械 胁谢邪蟹懈谢芯), 邪 胁懈屑懈泻邪褞褔懈 褋胁褨褌谢芯 胁 泻褨屑薪邪褌褨 褕邪褉邪褏邪谢邪褋褟 胁薪芯褔褨 褋邪谢邪褌芯胁芯谐芯 褋褟泄胁邪 芯斜泻谢邪写懈薪泻懈 薪邪 褌褍屑斜芯褔褑褨, 锌械褉褨芯写懈褔薪芯 蟹邪斜褍胁邪褞褔懈 锌褉芯 胁屑褨褋褌 褎谢褍芯褉械褋褑械薪褌薪懈褏 械谢械屑械薪褌褨胁 褍 褩褩 褎邪褉斜褨, - 卸懈褌懈 褑懈屑 褋胁褨褌芯屑 褉芯屑邪薪褍 胁懈褟胁懈谢芯褋褟 褌邪泻懈屑 褋邪屑懈屑 薪械褋褌械褉锌薪芯 写懈褋泻芯屑褎芯褉褌薪懈屑, 褟泻 褨 锌芯锌械褉械写薪褨屑懈 写胁芯屑邪, 斜芯 褌邪泻懈泄 褍卸械 蟹褍褏胁邪谢懈泄 褑械泄 邪胁褌芯褉. 袩褨写胁邪卸褍褦 胁褋械褉械写懈薪褨 褖芯褋褜 卸懈胁械 褨 薪邪褏邪斜薪芯 锌懈褌邪褦, 褔懈 斜芯谢懈褌褜. 携泻 谢褨泻邪褉 薪邪 芯谐谢褟写褨. 袗 褌邪泻 褖芯褋褜 胁褨写褔褍胁邪褦褕?.. 袗 褌械锌械褉?
"袘芯卸械褋褌胁械薪薪褨褋褌褜 写芯褋褟谐邪褦褌褜褋褟 褔械褉械蟹 胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟 - 褔懈 褌芯 屑懈 褍褌褉懈屑褍褦屑芯褋褟 胁褨写 胁褨写褔褍褌褌褨胁, 褔懈 锌芯褌褍褉邪褦屑芯 褩屑, 卸懈褌褌褟 褨褋薪褍褦 胁褨写薪芯褋薪芯 褌芯谐芯, 薪邪褋泻褨谢褜泻懈 谐谢懈斜芯泻芯 屑懈 胁褨写褔褍胁邪褦屑芯."
孝芯 卸 薪邪 锌械褉褕懈泄 锌芯谐谢褟写 褑械泄 褉芯屑邪薪 锌褉芯 26-褉褨褔薪芯谐芯 薪邪褉泻芯蟹邪谢械卸薪芯谐芯 斜褉懈褌邪薪褑褟 覑械斜褉褨械谢邪 袘褉芯泻胁械谢谢邪, 褟泻懈泄 胁褌褨泻邪褦 蟹 褉械邪斜褨谢褨褌邪褑褨泄薪芯谐芯 褑械薪褌褉褍, 褖芯斜 胁谢邪褕褌褍胁邪褌懈 械褎械泻褌薪械 褋邪屑芯谐褍斜褋褌胁芯, 邪谢械 胁锌谢褍褌褍褦褌褜褋褟 褍 薪懈蟹泻褍 胁懈锌邪写泻芯胁懈褏 锌芯写褨泄, 褟泻褨 锌芯褋褌褨泄薪芯 胁褨写褌械褉屑褨薪芯胁褍褞褌褜 斜邪卸邪薪械. 袩械胁薪邪 泻芯屑褨褔薪褨褋褌褜 褌邪泻芯谐芯 褉芯蟹泻谢邪写褍 锌芯写褨泄 褍褉褨胁薪芯胁邪卸械薪邪, 褟泻 褨 褍 "袙械褉薪芯薪褨...", 褌褉邪谐褨褔薪懈屑 褋胁褨褌芯胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟屑 谐械褉芯褟, 邪谢械 褌褍褌 褑械 - 械泻蟹懈褋褌械薪褑褨泄薪褨 褉芯蟹写褍屑懈 薪邪 褌谢褨 谢褟褔薪芯谐芯 蟹芯斜褉邪卸械薪薪褟 泻邪锌褨褌邪谢褨蟹屑褍, 褖械写褉芯 锌褉懈锌褉邪胁谢械薪褨 写械泻邪写械薪褌褋褜泻懈屑 褋芯褍褋芯屑. 小芯褍褋, 写芯 褉械褔褨, 写芯褋懈褌褜 谐芯褋褌褉懈泄. 效芯谐芯 胁邪褉褌械 褌褨谢褜泻懈 锌械褉械芯褋屑懈褋谢械薪薪褟 IKEA, 褟泻 锌邪褋褌泻懈 写谢褟 芯褉写懈 芯写懈薪懈褑褜 锌褉懈斜褍褌泻褍, 蟹 锌芯谢械谐谢懈屑懈 褍 "胁褨胁邪褉褨褍屑褨 谢褞写褋褜泻懈褏 褋谢邪斜懈薪" 褨 蟹邪褌芯褉邪屑懈 锌芯褉邪薪械薪懈褏 斜褨谢褟 泻邪褋, 泻褍写懈 褌懈 锌褉芯斜懈胁邪褦褕褋褟 蟹 锌芯褉芯卸薪褨屑懈 褉褍泻邪屑懈, 屑芯胁 褦褉械褌懈泻 褔懈 褍褉邪卸械薪邪 泻谢褨褌懈薪邪 胁 褨屑褍薪薪褨泄 褋懈褋褌械屑褨 薪邪褌芯胁锌褍.
袩褉芯薪懈泻谢懈胁褨褋褌褜 褉芯蟹褍屑褨薪薪褟 褋褍褋锌褨谢褜薪芯-锌芯谢褨褌懈褔薪懈褏 锌褉芯褑械褋褨胁 覑械斜褉褨械谢械屑, 锌褉懈锌褉邪胁谢械薪邪 褔芯褉薪懈屑 谐褍屑芯褉芯屑, 锌褨写褋懈谢褞褦 褎邪褌邪谢褨蟹屑. 小褌芯褟褔懈 褋械褉械写 胁懈褉褍 卸懈褌褌褟 蟹邪泻褨薪褔械薪懈屑 谢褍蟹械褉芯屑, 薪械 屑邪褞褔懈 屑芯卸谢懈胁芯褋褌褨 褉芯蟹泻褉懈褌懈褋褟 胁谢邪褋薪懈屑 胁薪褍褌褉褨褕薪褨屑 褋懈谢邪屑, 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢褞褞褔懈 胁 褑褜芯屑褍 胁褨写褋褍褌薪褨褋褌褜 褋械薪褋褍 卸懈褌褌褟, 褟泻 褨 褍 写懈褋谐邪褉屑芯薪褨褩 褨褋薪褍胁邪薪薪褟 胁 芯褌芯褔械薪薪褨 锌芯褋械褉械写薪芯褋褌褨, 谐芯谢芯胁薪懈泄 谐械褉芯泄 锌芯褉褍褕褍褦 械褌懈褔薪褨 锌褉邪胁懈谢邪, 蟹邪泻芯薪懈, 锌谢邪薪懈 褨薪褕懈褏 谢褞写械泄 褌邪 褨薪褕褍 薪械褑褨泻邪胁褍 褎褨谐薪褞, 褉褍褏邪褞褔懈褋褜 写芯 芯屑褉褨褟薪芯谐芯 褋邪屑芯谐褍斜褋褌胁邪.
袙蟹邪谐邪谢褨 胁械褋褜 褌械泻褋褌 锌芯胁芯谢褨 蟹斜懈褉邪褦褌褜褋褟 写芯 谐褍褉屑邪薪薪芯褩 褎械褦褉褨褩 - 泻褍谢褨薪邪褉薪芯谐芯 褕邪谢械薪褋褌胁邪 薪邪 屑械卸褨 斜芯卸械胁褨谢谢褟, 邪 芯褋褌邪薪薪褨 褉芯蟹写褨谢懈 泻芯褉芯褌褕邪褞褌褜 褨 薪褨斜懈 锌芯褏邪锌褑械屑 锌械褉械褉懈胁邪褞褌褜褋褟 胁懈褕褍泻邪薪懈屑懈 褉械褑械锌褌邪屑懈 蟹邪锌邪屑芯褉芯褔谢懈胁懈褏 褋褌褉邪胁. 肖褨薪邪谢褜薪邪 锌芯写褨褟 褋褌邪褦 褑械薪褌褉芯屑 褌褟卸褨薪薪褟 褍褋褨褏 写褉褨斜薪褨褕懈褏 锌芯写褨泄, 蟹邪褌褟谐褍褞褔懈 褍 褋胁芯褦 锌械泻械谢褜薪械 褟写褉芯 薪邪写屑褨褉薪芯褩 褉芯蟹泻芯褕褨, 褌邪 锌械褉械褌胁芯褉褞褞褔懈褋褜 胁褉械褕褌褨 褉械褕褌 褍 谐邪薪械斜薪械 褋胁懈薪褋褌胁芯 斜邪谐邪褌褨褩胁, 褖芯 褋褌邪褦 锌褉芯屑芯胁懈褋褌芯 褋懈屑胁芯谢褨褔薪懈屑. 袙芯薪邪 胁褨写斜褍胁邪褦褌褜褋褟 胁褋械褉械写懈薪褨 谐褨谐邪薪褌褋褜泻芯谐芯 锌褉懈屑褨褖械薪薪褟 褦写懈薪芯褩 褍 褋胁芯褦屑褍 褉芯写褨 邪褉褏褨褌械泻褌褍褉薪芯褩 锌邪屑'褟褌泻懈 薪邪褑懈褋褌褋褜泻芯褩 袧褨屑械褔褔懈薪懈 - 邪械褉芯锌芯褉褌褍 孝械屑锌械谢褜谐芯褎, 褟泻懈泄 锌褍褋褌褍褦 锌械褉械写 蟹邪泻褉懈褌褌褟屑, 卸懈胁褍褔懈 芯写薪懈屑 卸邪谢褞谐褨写薪懈屑 泻褨芯褋泻芯屑 胁褋械褉械写懈薪褨.
"袩褉芯褋褌褨褉 褉邪锌褌芯胁芯 胁懈褟胁谢褟褦褌褜褋褟 屑芯写械谢谢褞 屑芯谐芯 锌褨写褋胁褨写芯屑芯谐芯. 孝械屑薪芯谐芯, 谐薪懈谢芯谐芯, 锌芯芯褉邪薪芯谐芯 褌褍薪械谢褟屑懈. 袟 芯写薪褨褦褞 泻褉懈褏褨褌薪芯褞 斜谢懈褋泻褨褌泻芯褞 锌芯褋械褉械写懈薪褨."
袉 写懈胁薪芯, 褖芯 芯褑褟 泻褉懈褏褨褌薪邪 斜谢懈褋泻褨褌泻邪 褋胁褨褌谢邪 褨薪芯写褨 蟹写邪褌薪邪 芯褋胁褨褌懈褌懈 褍褋褞 褌械屑褉褟胁褍. 袘芯 薪邪褋锌褉邪胁写褨 胁褋褟 褑褟 褨褋褌芯褉褨褟 - 锌褉芯 写芯褉芯褋谢褨褕邪薪薪褟 褔械褉械蟹 褋邪屑芯褉褍泄薪邪褑褨褞 褨 褋懈屑胁芯谢褨褔薪械 胁斜懈胁褋褌胁芯 写懈褌懈薪懈 胁 褋芯斜褨. 携泻褖芯 屑懈 褋锌褉懈泄屑邪褦屑芯 褋胁褨褌, 褟泻 泻褉邪褩薪褍 写懈胁, 褨薪褎邪薪褌懈谢褜薪芯 褔械泻邪褞褔懈 褌褨谢褜泻懈 褍胁邪谐懈 写芯 褋胁芯褦褩 锌械褉褋芯薪懈, 胁懈蟹薪邪薪薪褟 褨 泻芯屑褎芯褉褌褍, 褌芯 褔械褉械蟹 锌械胁薪懈泄 褔邪褋 褨蟹 卸邪褏芯屑 锌芯屑褨褔邪褦屑芯, 褖芯 泻邪蟹泻邪 褉芯蟹胁邪谢褞褦褌褜褋褟, 邪 褋械薪褋 斜褍写褜-褟泻懈褏 斜邪卸邪薪褜 锌芯褋褌褍锌芯胁芯 蟹屑械薪褕褍褦褌褜褋褟 褨 胁褉械褕褌褨 泻芯谢邪锌褋褍褦, 蟹邪褌褜屑邪褉械薪懈泄 芯褔械胁懈写薪懈屑懈 薪械胁写邪褔邪屑懈. 笑械泄 薪械锌褉芯褋褌懈泄 褕谢褟褏, 褟泻懈屑 褍 褌械泻褋褌褨 胁芯谢芯褔邪褌褜褋褟 写懈褌褟褔褨 褌褉邪胁屑懈, 薪邪 褎芯薪褨 袥芯薪写芯薪邪, 携锌芯薪褨褩 褨 袘械褉谢褨薪褍 - 褌褉褜芯褏 邪斜褋芯谢褞褌薪芯 褉褨蟹薪懈褏 褋胁褨褌褨胁, 蟹邪胁械褉褕褍褦褌褜褋褟 芯谐懈写薪芯褞 泻褍谢褜屑褨薪邪褑褨褦褞, 褟泻邪 褋褌邪谢邪褋褟 褔械褉械蟹 褌械, 褖芯 -
"笑褨薪薪芯褋褌褨 褉芯蟹锌邪写邪谢懈褋褜, 芯斜褨褑褟薪泻懈 胁褨写褏芯写懈谢懈: 褍卸械 褋褌邪胁褋褟 胁械褋褜 褋械泻褋, 胁懈褔械褉锌邪胁褋褟 褎邪谢褜褕懈胁懈泄 褋屑褨褏, 锌褉芯泻褉褍褌懈谢懈褋褜 褍褋褨 胁懈泻褉褍褌邪褋懈, 胁懈泻褉懈胁懈谢懈褋褜 褍褋褨 褨褋褌懈薪懈. 袙邪薪褌邪卸褨胁泻懈 锌械褉械褌胁芯褉懈谢懈褋褜 薪邪 谢芯谐褨褋褌懈泻褍, 斜芯屑斜邪褉写褍胁邪薪薪褟 - 薪邪 褋胁芯斜芯写褍, 泻邪褉褌芯锌谢褟 褎褉褨 - 薪邪 "袚械锌锌褨 屑褨谢", 泻芯薪褌褉邪泻褌懈 - 薪邪 褏懈褌褉芯褖褨, 褨 薪邪胁褨褌褜 褋谢芯胁芯 "褏褍泄" 褋褌邪谢芯 薪邪写褌芯 胁卸懈胁邪薪懈屑, 邪斜懈 薪懈屑 薪邪褋芯谢芯写卸褍胁邪褌懈褋褜."
袟写邪褦褌褜褋褟, 褌邪泻械 斜芯谢褨褋薪芯 褔褍褌谢懈胁械 褋锌褉懈泄薪褟褌褌褟 褋胁褨褌褍 薪械 屑芯卸械 锌褉懈胁械褋褌懈 薪褨 写芯 褔芯谐芯 褏芯褉芯褕芯谐芯. 袗谢械...
袪芯屑邪薪 屑褨褋褌懈褌褜 胁懈褌芯薪褔械薪褍 褋懈屑械褌褉褨褞. 袩芯褔懈薪邪褞褔懈褋褜 褋谢芯胁邪屑懈 -"袦芯褟 褋懈褌褍邪褑褨褟 薪械 屑邪褦 薪邪蟹胁懈. 袧邪泄锌械褉褕械 褌芯屑褍, 褖芯 褟 胁懈褉褨褕懈胁 褋械斜械 胁斜懈褌懈. 袗 锌芯褌褨屑 - 褔械褉械蟹 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟: 褟 薪械 屑褍褕褍 褉芯斜懈褌懈 褑褜芯谐芯 薪械谐邪泄薪芯", - 胁褨薪 蟹邪泻褨薪褔褍褦褌褜褋褟 薪懈屑懈 卸, 邪谢械 蟹 芯写薪懈屑 锌褉芯褌懈谢械卸薪懈屑 薪褞邪薪褋芯屑:
"袦芯褟 褋懈褌褍邪褑褨褟 薪械 屑邪褦 薪邪蟹胁懈. 袧邪泄锌械褉褕械 褌芯屑褍, 褖芯 褟 胁懈褉褨褕懈胁 卸懈褌懈. 袗 锌芯褌褨屑 - 褔械褉械蟹 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟: 褟 薪械 屑褍褕褍 褉芯斜懈褌懈 褑褜芯谐芯 薪械谐邪泄薪芯."
袗 锌芯泻懈 胁懈 薪械薪邪胁懈写懈褌械 屑械薪械 蟹邪 褋锌芯泄谢械褉, 胁写褍屑邪泄褌械褋褜, 褖芯 褌邪泻懈泄 锌褨写褏褨写 - 锌芯胁薪邪 锌褉芯褌懈谢械卸薪褨褋褌褜 褍褋褨屑 锌芯褕懈褉械薪懈屑 屑芯褌懈胁褍褞褔懈屑 蟹邪泻谢懈泻邪屑 写芯 "卸懈褌懈 褌褍褌 褨 褌械锌械褉", "卸懈褌褌褟 胁褨写斜褍胁邪褦褌褜褋褟 锌褉芯褋褌芯 蟹邪褉邪蟹", 褌邪 锌芯写褨斜薪芯褩 锌褨写薪械褋械薪芯褩 屑邪褟褔薪褨. 袗写卸械 薪邪褋锌褉邪胁写褨 褑械泄 锌褋械胁写芯锌芯蟹懈褌懈胁薪懈泄 锌褨写褏褨写 写芯胁芯谢褨 薪邪锌褉褍卸褍褦, 斜芯 卸 卸懈褌懈 - 褟泻 褔芯屑褍褋褜 胁懈褟胁谢褟褦褌褜褋褟 - 写芯胁芯谢褨 褔邪褋褌芯 薪械锌褉懈褦屑薪芯, 褌芯屑褍 薪械 蟹邪胁卸写懈 屑芯卸谢懈胁芯 胁懈褔邪胁懈褌懈 褨蟹 褋械斜械 褉邪写褨褋褌褜, 褟泻 芯褋褌邪薪薪褨 泻褉邪锌谢褨 蟹褍斜薪芯褩 锌邪褋褌懈 蟹 褌褞斜懈泻邪. 袧邪褌芯屑褨褋褌褜 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟 谐械褉芯褟, 褖芯 薪械芯斜芯胁'褟蟹泻芯胁芯 褉芯斜懈褌懈 褨蟹 卸懈褌褌褟 (褟泻 褨 蟹褨 褋屑械褉褌褨) 褖芯褋褜 薪邪谐邪谢褜薪械 - 锌褨写褕褌芯胁褏褍褦 薪邪褋 写芯 胁薪褍褌褉褨褕薪褜芯谐芯 褋锌芯泻芯褞 蟹 薪械褋锌芯写褨胁邪薪芯谐芯 斜芯泻褍, 写邪褞褔懈 褋芯斜褨 褔邪褋 薪邪 胁褋械.
孝邪泻懈屑懈 卸 薪械褋锌芯写褨胁邪薪懈屑懈 褉褨褕械薪薪褟屑懈 胁'褦褌褜褋褟 褨 褋邪屑 褋褞卸械褌, 褟泻 邪薪邪泻芯薪写邪, 胁褋械褉械写懈薪褨 褟泻芯褩 屑褨褋褌懈褌褜褋褟 芯褋薪芯胁薪邪 褋褌褉邪胁邪 (锌褉芯泻芯胁褌薪褍褌械 谢褞写褋褜泻械 写懈褌褟, 褟泻械 薪邪褋锌褉邪胁写褨 胁懈褟胁谢褟褦褌褜褋褟 褨谢褞蟹褨褦褞). 袗谢械 褨 褑械 薪械 锌芯写邪褦褌褜褋褟 谐芯谢芯胁薪芯褞 褋褌褉邪胁芯褞 写褨泄褋褌胁邪. 袘芯 薪邪泄胁邪卸谢懈胁褨褕懈屑 锌芯褋懈谢芯屑 褍 褉芯屑邪薪褨 写芯 褔懈褌邪褔邪-谐褍褉屑邪薪邪 褦 褌胁械褉写卸械薪薪褟, 褖芯 "袛褨邪锌邪蟹芯薪 械褎械泻褌懈胁薪芯褩 锌芯褌褍卸薪芯褋褌褨 薪邪褋芯谢芯写懈 蟹邪褏芯胁邪薪懈泄 褍 锌芯锌械褉械写薪褜芯屑褍 屑芯屑械薪褌褨."
孝芯 卸 薪邪泄泻褉邪褖械 谢懈褕邪褦褌褜褋褟 蟹 薪邪屑懈 褌褨谢褜泻懈 褌芯写褨, 褟泻褖芯 屑懈 锌芯泻懈写邪褦屑芯 褨 胁褨写锌褍褋泻邪褦屑芯 泄芯谐芯 薪邪 泻褍谢褜屑褨薪邪褑褨褩, 邪 褌芯褔薪褨褕械 - 蟹邪 褋械泻褍薪写褍 写芯...
P. S . 些芯写芯 褋邪屑芯谐芯 胁懈写邪薪薪褟 - 芯写薪邪 蟹 薪邪泄泻褉邪褖懈褏 锌褉芯写褍屑邪薪懈褏 泻芯薪褑械锌褑褨泄, 褟泻褨 褟 斜邪褔懈谢邪. 袧械褋褌褟屑薪邪 械褋褌械褌懈泻邪 褍 胁褋褜芯屑褍. 袪芯屑邪薪 褉邪写卸褍, 褟泻褖芯 胁懈 薪械 斜芯褩褌械褋褟 褋屑褨谢懈胁芯 谐褉邪褌懈褋褟 褨蟹 褋胁芯褩屑懈 褑褨薪薪芯褋褌褟屑懈. 孝褨谢褜泻懈 褋锌械褉褕褍 锌械褉械泻芯薪邪泄褌械褋褜, 褔懈 胁芯薪懈 褌芯褔薪芯 胁邪褕褨.
October 30, 2010
Enter Ikea stores at your own risk.
December 16, 2018
I purchased Lights out in Wonderland on the basis of how much I enjoyed DBC Pierre's first book Vernon God Little which was recommended to me by a friend. While this novel doesn't quite scale the satirical and darkly humorous heights of his Man Booker prize winning debut, it nevertheless provides an excellent platform for Pierre to target the excesses of our modern post-capitalist civilisation.
His protagonist Gabriel Brockwell, a conflicted 20 something anti-capitalist demonstrator/philosopher/slacker, has reached rock bottom. He is completely disillusioned by a society which puts money above all else, to the point where even his own anti-capitlaist allies and friends betray him simply so they can embrace consumerism in all it's forms. Brockwell narrates the novel in first person and analyses and philosophises just about all human behaviour he observes. However this rarely becomes tiresome as Pierre brilliantly conveys these observations in various thoughtful, insightful and occasionally timeless passages at the bottom of the pages. The result of Gabriel's human analysis is to some extent if you can't beat 'em join 'em, and he decides to embark on the ultimate debauch with his childhood friend; a quest to enjoy all the finest things in life for one more night before ending his life. This journey takes him to places as far afield as a Tokyo restaurant and a disused airport in Berlin - the setting of his intended final blowout. It is in the descriptions of these locales and the people within them that the power of Pierre's imagery really comes to the fore. The man has an exceptional way with words. Some of the passages in this book manage to be both beautiful, frightening and haunting all at the same time and should be read slow and savoured, much like a fine wine, which is appropriate given Gabriel's intentions. At times Pierre comes across like a more potent form of Hunter S Thompson, complete with added overdoses of satire and wit.
I believe Pierre's greatest skill as a novelist is his ability to truly immerse himself within his protagonist - to infuse their words with healthy doses of humour, wit and satire but never at the expense of plausibility given their age and circumstance. In Vernon God Little, he somehow managed to convincingly channel the mindset of a confused, inquisitive, crude and alienated teenager from a remote Texas town, who had been accused of a horrific crime that he did not commit. In Lights Out, he accomplishes a similar feat in a completely different character. There are many parallels between the novels in the sense that both the central characters embark on coming-of-age journey's (albeit for entirely different motivations) that explore human nature and motive. My only problem with this novel is that it's difficult to believe that Gabriel truly intends to end his life once the party is over, he's simply having too much fun.
This book is like a guilty pleasure. As I read it I began to feel it was the literary equivalent of a seven course meal in a three Michelin star restaurant, consumed with copious amounts of vintage champagne and caviar, then concluded with cheese, vintage port and finally a fat Cuban cigar. Some may find the writing style overly indulgent and feel that Pierre has a tendency to ramble on, however his commentary on the excesses of our civilisation is razor sharp. I watched an interview with him regarding his inspiration for this novel and he simply felt that western civilisation has become stuck in a rut, or a perpetual 'limbo' as Gabriel would put it. As people we are becoming defined by our consumption. We are no longer progressing, we are standing still and history would suggest that all great civilisations eventually collapse or implode, often as a result of their own excesses. Lights out in Wonderland is a celebration of that excess, and regardless of what you make of its satirical commentary, its delicious paragraphs make it a joy to read.
His protagonist Gabriel Brockwell, a conflicted 20 something anti-capitalist demonstrator/philosopher/slacker, has reached rock bottom. He is completely disillusioned by a society which puts money above all else, to the point where even his own anti-capitlaist allies and friends betray him simply so they can embrace consumerism in all it's forms. Brockwell narrates the novel in first person and analyses and philosophises just about all human behaviour he observes. However this rarely becomes tiresome as Pierre brilliantly conveys these observations in various thoughtful, insightful and occasionally timeless passages at the bottom of the pages. The result of Gabriel's human analysis is to some extent if you can't beat 'em join 'em, and he decides to embark on the ultimate debauch with his childhood friend; a quest to enjoy all the finest things in life for one more night before ending his life. This journey takes him to places as far afield as a Tokyo restaurant and a disused airport in Berlin - the setting of his intended final blowout. It is in the descriptions of these locales and the people within them that the power of Pierre's imagery really comes to the fore. The man has an exceptional way with words. Some of the passages in this book manage to be both beautiful, frightening and haunting all at the same time and should be read slow and savoured, much like a fine wine, which is appropriate given Gabriel's intentions. At times Pierre comes across like a more potent form of Hunter S Thompson, complete with added overdoses of satire and wit.
I believe Pierre's greatest skill as a novelist is his ability to truly immerse himself within his protagonist - to infuse their words with healthy doses of humour, wit and satire but never at the expense of plausibility given their age and circumstance. In Vernon God Little, he somehow managed to convincingly channel the mindset of a confused, inquisitive, crude and alienated teenager from a remote Texas town, who had been accused of a horrific crime that he did not commit. In Lights Out, he accomplishes a similar feat in a completely different character. There are many parallels between the novels in the sense that both the central characters embark on coming-of-age journey's (albeit for entirely different motivations) that explore human nature and motive. My only problem with this novel is that it's difficult to believe that Gabriel truly intends to end his life once the party is over, he's simply having too much fun.
This book is like a guilty pleasure. As I read it I began to feel it was the literary equivalent of a seven course meal in a three Michelin star restaurant, consumed with copious amounts of vintage champagne and caviar, then concluded with cheese, vintage port and finally a fat Cuban cigar. Some may find the writing style overly indulgent and feel that Pierre has a tendency to ramble on, however his commentary on the excesses of our civilisation is razor sharp. I watched an interview with him regarding his inspiration for this novel and he simply felt that western civilisation has become stuck in a rut, or a perpetual 'limbo' as Gabriel would put it. As people we are becoming defined by our consumption. We are no longer progressing, we are standing still and history would suggest that all great civilisations eventually collapse or implode, often as a result of their own excesses. Lights out in Wonderland is a celebration of that excess, and regardless of what you make of its satirical commentary, its delicious paragraphs make it a joy to read.
June 29, 2020
Pretty ok. Pros: The premise itself--guy decides to kill himself but not right away--is a thematic strength to get us started on a decadent journey. It add some tension and verisimilitude in the arrogant and nutty way he acts. Too often in novels, main characters just do nutty things without any excuse, and, at the least, being in a state of mind freed from consequences, trying to savor every moment as final, gives an excuse to going to decadent and brave extremes.
In this same vein, another strength is that though the protag might feel as though he's freed from consequences, he is faced with them all the time--it keeps some tension throughout the narrative to have his best friend in jail due to his own actions.
Cons: Drugs, drugs, drugs. Now, I lack some experience in this regard, but it seems implausible to me that this dude can drink and do so much coke for hours/days without being really, noticeably worse for wear. The scenes of him throwing up in a trash can, nose bleeding, happen days after his initial bender and it seems to me that he would have to look/feel horrible after his first breakfast of wine and coke.
Also, annoying, mansplainy footnotes that assume superior knowledge of capitalism, human nature, food, drugs.... I get that it's supposed to be (?) ironic since they are coming from a character who clearly does not have it all figured out (or are these supposed to have been written after the notes themselves which are mentioned in the narrative as being the book? If so, the perspective of the narrator in writing them doesn't reflect the supposed change he undergoes by the end), but that doesn't mean I want to listen to a guy with his head up his ass.
The ending was jumpy--I thought the lack of transitions in the first half of the novel was a reflection of the narrator's own drunken/drugged disorientation, but perhaps that's just the style of the author. I appreciated the shorter chapters to draw to a close, but it felt like it left some things poorly resolved, like the Smuts situation (why wouldn't they get mad at ending everything early and wouldn't they trace it back to him and refuse to provide evidence as a result? Did I miss something?), and what happened to the tortoise in the end. I suppose I kept expecting a black mass sort of resolution where things would devolve from mere consumption to actual murder and that the narrator would be the main course...I mean, I'm glad it was just a the tortoise (did she smuggle him on the plane somehow?), but still.
The recipes were an ok device--they reinforced the food porn theme and conveyed a certain feeling of being there that descriptions of the finished product could not. At the same time, the recipes, featuring cooking humming birds and tigers were in some ways incomprehensible since of course I've never eaten or cooked a tiger. I'm not sure this alienation is entirely a detriment, but it's not entirely a strength either.
All in all, this was a fun book to pair with some decadent short stories, and definitely commented on the theme in self-awareness, but weirdly didn't turn out to actually be a decadent novel, not really. Perhaps that's a good thing.
In this same vein, another strength is that though the protag might feel as though he's freed from consequences, he is faced with them all the time--it keeps some tension throughout the narrative to have his best friend in jail due to his own actions.
Cons: Drugs, drugs, drugs. Now, I lack some experience in this regard, but it seems implausible to me that this dude can drink and do so much coke for hours/days without being really, noticeably worse for wear. The scenes of him throwing up in a trash can, nose bleeding, happen days after his initial bender and it seems to me that he would have to look/feel horrible after his first breakfast of wine and coke.
Also, annoying, mansplainy footnotes that assume superior knowledge of capitalism, human nature, food, drugs.... I get that it's supposed to be (?) ironic since they are coming from a character who clearly does not have it all figured out (or are these supposed to have been written after the notes themselves which are mentioned in the narrative as being the book? If so, the perspective of the narrator in writing them doesn't reflect the supposed change he undergoes by the end), but that doesn't mean I want to listen to a guy with his head up his ass.
The ending was jumpy--I thought the lack of transitions in the first half of the novel was a reflection of the narrator's own drunken/drugged disorientation, but perhaps that's just the style of the author. I appreciated the shorter chapters to draw to a close, but it felt like it left some things poorly resolved, like the Smuts situation (why wouldn't they get mad at ending everything early and wouldn't they trace it back to him and refuse to provide evidence as a result? Did I miss something?), and what happened to the tortoise in the end. I suppose I kept expecting a black mass sort of resolution where things would devolve from mere consumption to actual murder and that the narrator would be the main course...I mean, I'm glad it was just a the tortoise (did she smuggle him on the plane somehow?), but still.
The recipes were an ok device--they reinforced the food porn theme and conveyed a certain feeling of being there that descriptions of the finished product could not. At the same time, the recipes, featuring cooking humming birds and tigers were in some ways incomprehensible since of course I've never eaten or cooked a tiger. I'm not sure this alienation is entirely a detriment, but it's not entirely a strength either.
All in all, this was a fun book to pair with some decadent short stories, and definitely commented on the theme in self-awareness, but weirdly didn't turn out to actually be a decadent novel, not really. Perhaps that's a good thing.
July 3, 2018
Bizar.
In feite zou ik het daarbij kunnen laten maar we zullen iets meer doen.
Het is het verhaal van Gabriel Brockwell, late twintiger die opeens besluit (terwijl hij opgenomen is in een instelling voor geestelijke gezondheidszorg) dat hij dood wil, maar niet onmiddellijk. Dat besef is het begin van een onzinnige reis die van London naar Tokio en uiteindelijk in Berlijn strandt.
Gabriel als karakter deelt met ons zijn constateringen en zijn autobiografie die allemaal in een zelfde richting wijzen; het belang van de magisch limbo. De limbo maakt dat je regels kan breken, wetten overtreden en zaken kan bereiken die anders onmogelijk zijn. Wat hij wil bereiken, is een onzinnige laatste paar uren en een passende dood zodat zijn leven afgelopen is. Gezien Gabriel jaren heeft gezworven in post-moderne linkse kringen, besluit hij dat hij in zijn laatste uren de waanzin van het ultieme kapitalisme zal omarmen.
Echter het boek ontspoort wat na een derde; waar het eerste deel de fun zit in te lezen hoe Gabriel als een waanzinnige zonder enige consideratie voor normen en regels door de wereld heen banjert en alles op zijn weg overweldigt; is de rest van het boek dat niet. De rest van het boek gaat opeens over het helpen van een oude vriend door het organiseren van een decadent feest in Berlijn waar ondermeer tijgerwelp op het menu zal staan. Dan is er ook de relatie met figuren die een oude kiosk in Tempelhoff hebben een love interest die ik geforceerd vindt en een naar het einde toe morele preek die ik tezelfdertijd interessant had gevonden had het in een academisch werk gestaan, maar nu wat middenin werd gedumpt en zo subtiel was als een suske en wiske moraliteit moment.
Het tweede dat mij niet helemaal beviel, waren de constateringen van Gabriel, soms waren ze leuk anders interessant maar na een tijdje kwam het allemaal maar potsierlijk over; natuurlijk is dat miss net de bedoeling en is het een voorbereiding op de plottwist die naar het laatste luik opduikt maar toch... Plus ook, voor iemand die besluit dat de regels er niet meer toe doen en de waanzin limbo dient gevolgd te worden, heeft Gabriel er bizar veel moeite mee om ook maar aan iemand te vertellen dat hij dood wil. Ok goed miss zou dat de limbo doorbreken aan de andere kant er waren echt wel moment waar hij actief de limbo en het verhaal liet stroppen omdat hij niet durfde toegeven waarom deze waanzinnig reis is aangevat.
Tja wat moeten we hier nu mee? Geen idee eigenlijk, het voelt voor mij aan alsof het eerste derde en laatste luik geschreven waren, maar het midden echt vooral diende om het boek te vullen. Het kan miss gewoon ook dat existenti毛le verhalen niet mijn ding zijn.... in dat geval snap ik of apprecieer ik niet genoeg het boek voor wat het is.
In feite zou ik het daarbij kunnen laten maar we zullen iets meer doen.
Het is het verhaal van Gabriel Brockwell, late twintiger die opeens besluit (terwijl hij opgenomen is in een instelling voor geestelijke gezondheidszorg) dat hij dood wil, maar niet onmiddellijk. Dat besef is het begin van een onzinnige reis die van London naar Tokio en uiteindelijk in Berlijn strandt.
Gabriel als karakter deelt met ons zijn constateringen en zijn autobiografie die allemaal in een zelfde richting wijzen; het belang van de magisch limbo. De limbo maakt dat je regels kan breken, wetten overtreden en zaken kan bereiken die anders onmogelijk zijn. Wat hij wil bereiken, is een onzinnige laatste paar uren en een passende dood zodat zijn leven afgelopen is. Gezien Gabriel jaren heeft gezworven in post-moderne linkse kringen, besluit hij dat hij in zijn laatste uren de waanzin van het ultieme kapitalisme zal omarmen.
Echter het boek ontspoort wat na een derde; waar het eerste deel de fun zit in te lezen hoe Gabriel als een waanzinnige zonder enige consideratie voor normen en regels door de wereld heen banjert en alles op zijn weg overweldigt; is de rest van het boek dat niet. De rest van het boek gaat opeens over het helpen van een oude vriend door het organiseren van een decadent feest in Berlijn waar ondermeer tijgerwelp op het menu zal staan. Dan is er ook de relatie met figuren die een oude kiosk in Tempelhoff hebben een love interest die ik geforceerd vindt en een naar het einde toe morele preek die ik tezelfdertijd interessant had gevonden had het in een academisch werk gestaan, maar nu wat middenin werd gedumpt en zo subtiel was als een suske en wiske moraliteit moment.
Het tweede dat mij niet helemaal beviel, waren de constateringen van Gabriel, soms waren ze leuk anders interessant maar na een tijdje kwam het allemaal maar potsierlijk over; natuurlijk is dat miss net de bedoeling en is het een voorbereiding op de plottwist die naar het laatste luik opduikt maar toch... Plus ook, voor iemand die besluit dat de regels er niet meer toe doen en de waanzin limbo dient gevolgd te worden, heeft Gabriel er bizar veel moeite mee om ook maar aan iemand te vertellen dat hij dood wil. Ok goed miss zou dat de limbo doorbreken aan de andere kant er waren echt wel moment waar hij actief de limbo en het verhaal liet stroppen omdat hij niet durfde toegeven waarom deze waanzinnig reis is aangevat.
Tja wat moeten we hier nu mee? Geen idee eigenlijk, het voelt voor mij aan alsof het eerste derde en laatste luik geschreven waren, maar het midden echt vooral diende om het boek te vullen. Het kan miss gewoon ook dat existenti毛le verhalen niet mijn ding zijn.... in dat geval snap ik of apprecieer ik niet genoeg het boek voor wat het is.
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