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小懈薪褟 袘芯褉芯写邪
袩械褉械写 胁邪屑懈 胁懈谐邪写邪薪邪 邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟 邪屑械褉懈泻邪薪褋褜泻芯谐芯 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪 袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪. 袡芯屑褍 褋褨屑写械褋褟褌 芯写懈薪, 胁褨薪 胁写褨胁械褑褜, 卸懈胁械 褋邪屑芯褌芯褞 胁 褉芯蟹泻褨褕薪芯屑褍 斜褍写懈薪泻褍 薪邪 袥芯薪覒-袗泄谢械薪写褨. 携泻芯褋褜 袪邪斜芯 蟹褍褋褌褉褨褔邪褦 薪邪 斜械褉械蟹褨 芯泻械邪薪褍 卸褨薪泻褍 褨, 薪械褋锌芯写褨胁邪薪芯 写谢褟 褋邪屑芯谐芯 褋械斜械, 蟹邪锌褉芯褕褍褦 褩褩 写芯 褋胁芯谐芯 屑邪褦褌泻褍.
袚芯褋褌褟 鈥� 薪械胁谐邪屑芯胁薪邪 笑褨褉褑械褟 袘械褉屑邪薪, 邪胁褌芯褉泻邪 褋褍锌械褉锌芯锌褍谢褟褉薪懈褏 褉芯屑邪薪褨胁 鈥� 写芯泻芯褉褨薪薪芯 蟹屑褨薪褞褦 卸懈褌褌褟 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪. 袙芯薪邪 锌褉懈屑褍褕褍褦 写懈胁邪泻褍胁邪褌芯谐芯 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪 锌懈褋邪褌懈 邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褞, 邪 胁褨薪 薪械 屑芯卸械 芯锌懈褉邪褌懈褋褟. 袉 芯褋褜 袪邪斜芯 锌褉懈谐邪写褍褦 斜邪褌褜泻褨胁 鈥� 胁褨褉屑械薪褋褜泻懈褏 褨屑屑褨覒褉邪薪褌褨胁, 褟泻褨 胁褉褟褌褍胁邪谢懈褋褟 锌褨写 褔邪褋 锌械褉褕芯谐芯 褍 啸啸 褋褌芯谢褨褌褌褨 谐械薪芯褑懈写褍; 褉芯泻懈 薪邪胁褔邪薪薪褟 卸懈胁芯锌懈褋褍 胁 袧褜褞-袡芯褉泻褍, 褋胁芯褦 锌械褉褕械 泻芯褏邪薪薪褟 褌邪 褋谢褍卸斜褍 胁 邪褉屑褨褩 锌褨写 褔邪褋 袛褉褍谐芯褩 褋胁褨褌芯胁芯褩 胁褨泄薪懈; 薪褨屑械褑褜泻懈泄 锌芯谢芯薪 褨 锌芯褏屑褍褉褨 褋褍褌褨薪泻懈 薪邪褑懈蟹屑褍 褍 袆胁褉芯锌褨; 锌芯胁械褉薪械薪薪褟 蟹 胁褨泄薪懈, 薪械褖邪褋谢懈胁械 芯写褉褍卸械薪薪褟, 泻邪褉鈥櫻斞€褍 屑懈褌褑褟 褌邪 写褉褍卸斜褍 蟹 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪屑懈 薪褜褞-泄芯褉泻褋褜泻芯褩 褕泻芯谢懈 邪斜褋褌褉邪泻褌薪芯谐芯 械泻褋锌褉械褋褨芯薪褨蟹屑褍.
袗 褌懈屑 褔邪褋芯屑 笑褨褉褑械褩 泻芯褉褌懈褌褜 写褨蟹薪邪褌懈褋褟, 褖芯 卸 褏芯胁邪褦 锌褨写 薪邪写褨泄薪懈屑懈 蟹邪屑泻邪屑懈 褍 泻邪褉褌芯锌谢褟薪褨泄 泻芯屑芯褉褨 袪邪斜芯: 褌邪褦屑薪懈褑褞, 褟泻邪 斜械薪褌械卸懈褌褜 屑懈褋褌械褑褌胁芯蟹薪邪胁褑褨胁 褨 泻芯谢械泻褑褨芯薪械褉褨胁 褍 胁褋褜芯屑褍 褋胁褨褌褨鈥�
芦小懈薪褟 袘芯褉芯写邪禄 鈥� 褟褋泻褉邪胁懈泄 锌褉懈泻谢邪写 薪械锌械褉械褋褨褔薪芯褩 屑邪泄褋褌械褉薪芯褋褌褨 袙芯薪薪械覒褍褌邪-芯锌芯胁褨写邪褔邪: 卸邪褏谢懈胁褨 褋褑械薪懈 蟹谢芯褔懈薪褨胁 锌褉芯褌懈 谢褞写褋褌胁邪 锌械褉械锌谢褨褌邪褞褌褜褋褟 蟹 泻芯屑褨褔薪懈屑懈 褨 覒褉芯褌械褋泻薪懈屑懈 械锌褨蟹芯写邪屑懈, 谐褨褉泻芯褌邪 褉芯蟹褔邪褉褍胁邪薪褜 褔械褉谐褍褦褌褜褋褟 蟹 芯斜薪邪写褨泄谢懈胁芯褞 胁褨褉芯褞 胁 褌芯褉卸械褋褌胁芯 写芯斜褉邪, 邪 屑褍写褉邪 褨褉芯薪褨褔薪褨褋褌褜 锌褨写泻褉械褋谢褞褦 谐谢懈斜芯泻械 褋锌褨胁褔褍褌褌褟.
袚芯褋褌褟 鈥� 薪械胁谐邪屑芯胁薪邪 笑褨褉褑械褟 袘械褉屑邪薪, 邪胁褌芯褉泻邪 褋褍锌械褉锌芯锌褍谢褟褉薪懈褏 褉芯屑邪薪褨胁 鈥� 写芯泻芯褉褨薪薪芯 蟹屑褨薪褞褦 卸懈褌褌褟 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪. 袙芯薪邪 锌褉懈屑褍褕褍褦 写懈胁邪泻褍胁邪褌芯谐芯 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪 锌懈褋邪褌懈 邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褞, 邪 胁褨薪 薪械 屑芯卸械 芯锌懈褉邪褌懈褋褟. 袉 芯褋褜 袪邪斜芯 锌褉懈谐邪写褍褦 斜邪褌褜泻褨胁 鈥� 胁褨褉屑械薪褋褜泻懈褏 褨屑屑褨覒褉邪薪褌褨胁, 褟泻褨 胁褉褟褌褍胁邪谢懈褋褟 锌褨写 褔邪褋 锌械褉褕芯谐芯 褍 啸啸 褋褌芯谢褨褌褌褨 谐械薪芯褑懈写褍; 褉芯泻懈 薪邪胁褔邪薪薪褟 卸懈胁芯锌懈褋褍 胁 袧褜褞-袡芯褉泻褍, 褋胁芯褦 锌械褉褕械 泻芯褏邪薪薪褟 褌邪 褋谢褍卸斜褍 胁 邪褉屑褨褩 锌褨写 褔邪褋 袛褉褍谐芯褩 褋胁褨褌芯胁芯褩 胁褨泄薪懈; 薪褨屑械褑褜泻懈泄 锌芯谢芯薪 褨 锌芯褏屑褍褉褨 褋褍褌褨薪泻懈 薪邪褑懈蟹屑褍 褍 袆胁褉芯锌褨; 锌芯胁械褉薪械薪薪褟 蟹 胁褨泄薪懈, 薪械褖邪褋谢懈胁械 芯写褉褍卸械薪薪褟, 泻邪褉鈥櫻斞€褍 屑懈褌褑褟 褌邪 写褉褍卸斜褍 蟹 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪屑懈 薪褜褞-泄芯褉泻褋褜泻芯褩 褕泻芯谢懈 邪斜褋褌褉邪泻褌薪芯谐芯 械泻褋锌褉械褋褨芯薪褨蟹屑褍.
袗 褌懈屑 褔邪褋芯屑 笑褨褉褑械褩 泻芯褉褌懈褌褜 写褨蟹薪邪褌懈褋褟, 褖芯 卸 褏芯胁邪褦 锌褨写 薪邪写褨泄薪懈屑懈 蟹邪屑泻邪屑懈 褍 泻邪褉褌芯锌谢褟薪褨泄 泻芯屑芯褉褨 袪邪斜芯: 褌邪褦屑薪懈褑褞, 褟泻邪 斜械薪褌械卸懈褌褜 屑懈褋褌械褑褌胁芯蟹薪邪胁褑褨胁 褨 泻芯谢械泻褑褨芯薪械褉褨胁 褍 胁褋褜芯屑褍 褋胁褨褌褨鈥�
芦小懈薪褟 袘芯褉芯写邪禄 鈥� 褟褋泻褉邪胁懈泄 锌褉懈泻谢邪写 薪械锌械褉械褋褨褔薪芯褩 屑邪泄褋褌械褉薪芯褋褌褨 袙芯薪薪械覒褍褌邪-芯锌芯胁褨写邪褔邪: 卸邪褏谢懈胁褨 褋褑械薪懈 蟹谢芯褔懈薪褨胁 锌褉芯褌懈 谢褞写褋褌胁邪 锌械褉械锌谢褨褌邪褞褌褜褋褟 蟹 泻芯屑褨褔薪懈屑懈 褨 覒褉芯褌械褋泻薪懈屑懈 械锌褨蟹芯写邪屑懈, 谐褨褉泻芯褌邪 褉芯蟹褔邪褉褍胁邪薪褜 褔械褉谐褍褦褌褜褋褟 蟹 芯斜薪邪写褨泄谢懈胁芯褞 胁褨褉芯褞 胁 褌芯褉卸械褋褌胁芯 写芯斜褉邪, 邪 屑褍写褉邪 褨褉芯薪褨褔薪褨褋褌褜 锌褨写泻褉械褋谢褞褦 谐谢懈斜芯泻械 褋锌褨胁褔褍褌褌褟.
246 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1987
1125 people are currently reading
28626 people want to read
About the author
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
650听books36k听followersKurt Vonnegut, Junior was an American novelist, satirist, and most recently, graphic artist. He was recognized as New York State Author for 2001-2003.
He was born in Indianapolis, later the setting for many of his novels. He attended Cornell University from 1941 to 1943, where he wrote a column for the student newspaper, the Cornell Daily Sun. Vonnegut trained as a chemist and worked as a journalist before joining the U.S. Army and serving in World War II.
After the war, he attended University of Chicago as a graduate student in anthropology and also worked as a police reporter at the City News Bureau of Chicago. He left Chicago to work in Schenectady, New York in public relations for General Electric. He attributed his unadorned writing style to his reporting work.
His experiences as an advance scout in the Battle of the Bulge, and in particular his witnessing of the bombing of Dresden, Germany whilst a prisoner of war, would inform much of his work. This event would also form the core of his most famous work, Slaughterhouse-Five, the book which would make him a millionaire. This acerbic 200-page book is what most people mean when they describe a work as "Vonnegutian" in scope.
Vonnegut was a self-proclaimed humanist and socialist (influenced by the style of Indiana's own Eugene V. Debs) and a lifelong supporter of the American Civil Liberties Union.
The novelist is known for works blending satire, black comedy and science fiction, such as Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), Cat's Cradle (1963), and Breakfast of Champions (1973)
He was born in Indianapolis, later the setting for many of his novels. He attended Cornell University from 1941 to 1943, where he wrote a column for the student newspaper, the Cornell Daily Sun. Vonnegut trained as a chemist and worked as a journalist before joining the U.S. Army and serving in World War II.
After the war, he attended University of Chicago as a graduate student in anthropology and also worked as a police reporter at the City News Bureau of Chicago. He left Chicago to work in Schenectady, New York in public relations for General Electric. He attributed his unadorned writing style to his reporting work.
His experiences as an advance scout in the Battle of the Bulge, and in particular his witnessing of the bombing of Dresden, Germany whilst a prisoner of war, would inform much of his work. This event would also form the core of his most famous work, Slaughterhouse-Five, the book which would make him a millionaire. This acerbic 200-page book is what most people mean when they describe a work as "Vonnegutian" in scope.
Vonnegut was a self-proclaimed humanist and socialist (influenced by the style of Indiana's own Eugene V. Debs) and a lifelong supporter of the American Civil Liberties Union.
The novelist is known for works blending satire, black comedy and science fiction, such as Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), Cat's Cradle (1963), and Breakfast of Champions (1973)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,176 reviews
March 31, 2007
One thing I've discovered is that people tend to have different favorites of Vonnegut's work. Many prefer Slaughter House Five, some love Breakfast of Champions, and my sister's favorite is Galapagos.
The only person I've ever met whose favorite Vonnegut book is Bluebeard is... me. So it goes.
The book follows former abstract expressionist painter Rabo Karabekian, serving as his autobiography and a mystery story simultaneously. The mystery? What is Rabo keeping in the huge potato barn on his large estate.
Some of you may remember Mr. Karabekian from Breakfast of Champions; he was largely the same character, albeit younger in years. He's famous for his paintings, you see: he would take huge canvases, spray paint them all one color, and put pieces of colored tape on them.
There's several jokes regarding Rabo's paintings, one of which he gave away in Breakfast: his work is Rabo's view of the human soul. When you strip away all of the unnecessary crap that makes us up, we're all basically glowing shafts of light, represented by the pieces of tape.
I won't give away the other joke, but it's a good one.
Anyway, this book is a lot of things: a reflection on an imaginary life, a faux biography, and a moral we could all probably take to heart. And we do get to find out what Bluebeard keeps in his potato barn. It's a darned big thing.
The only person I've ever met whose favorite Vonnegut book is Bluebeard is... me. So it goes.
The book follows former abstract expressionist painter Rabo Karabekian, serving as his autobiography and a mystery story simultaneously. The mystery? What is Rabo keeping in the huge potato barn on his large estate.
Some of you may remember Mr. Karabekian from Breakfast of Champions; he was largely the same character, albeit younger in years. He's famous for his paintings, you see: he would take huge canvases, spray paint them all one color, and put pieces of colored tape on them.
There's several jokes regarding Rabo's paintings, one of which he gave away in Breakfast: his work is Rabo's view of the human soul. When you strip away all of the unnecessary crap that makes us up, we're all basically glowing shafts of light, represented by the pieces of tape.
I won't give away the other joke, but it's a good one.
Anyway, this book is a lot of things: a reflection on an imaginary life, a faux biography, and a moral we could all probably take to heart. And we do get to find out what Bluebeard keeps in his potato barn. It's a darned big thing.
October 13, 2019
鈥淓verything about life is a joke. Don't you know that?鈥�
From beginning to end, Bluebeard has Kurt Vonnegut written all over it. His irreverent tone, summed up in the quote above, along with his concomitant exploration of what it means to be human, brings together familiar themes in Vonnegut鈥檚 work. Bluebeard is the mock autobiography of abstract expressionist painter, Rabo Karabekian, a character who first appeared in Breakfast of Champions. This is a book about what art is and what it can do in a society in which, according to Karabekian, 鈥渢he young people of today seemed to be trying to get through life with as little information as possible.鈥�
For Karabekian, such information offers a connection to humanity and all of its symbols and cultural artifacts. It thus goes to the heart of what it means to be an artist. However, best-selling popular writer, Circe Berman (who moves in with Karabekian) tells him that such knowledge is useless. Their relationship reflects a debate between high and low culture. It is no surprise then that Karabekian and Berman have a very different view of the abstract expressionism Karabekian espouses. Karabekian is repeatedly asked to explain what his art is about. However, in a response that works for the artist as well as the writer, he repeatedly maintains that the artist doesn鈥檛 owe it to the public to give them what they want. What鈥檚 really wanted is a challenge.
Not sure how I鈥檒l place it with other Vonnegut classics, but I really enjoyed Bluebeard! 4.5 stars
鈥淭he darkest secret of this country, I am afraid, is that too many of its citizens imagine that they belong to a much higher civilization somewhere else. That higher civilization doesn鈥檛 have to be another country. It can be the past instead鈥攖he United States as it was before it was spoiled by immigrants and the enfranchisement of the blacks.鈥�
From Bluebeard (1987)
April 28, 2023
Poate vre葲i s膬 experimenta葲i o non epifanie 葯颈 nu 葯ti葲i cum. Atunci s膬-l lu膬m pe Vonnegut ca magistru...
Nu e pu葲in lucru s膬 izbucne葯ti 卯n r卯s la (aproape) fiecare paragraf. Umorul lui Kurt Vonnegut e devastator. 脦l admir de mai bine de 3 decenii. Despre ce e vorba 卯n Barb膬 Albastr膬? Fire葯te, fire葯te, de o c膬mar膬 secret膬, ca 卯n povestea lui Charles Perrault. Exist膬, totu葯颈, o mic膬 diferen葲膬 卯ntre roman 葯颈 poveste. De data aceasta, Barb膬 Albastr膬 (alias pictorul Rabo Karabekian) se las膬 convins s膬 deschid膬 u葯a c膬m膬rii interzise. Dar ceea ce vede 卯nso葲itoarea lui Rabo (prozatoarea Circe Berman) este 葯颈 mai terifiant dec卯t ceea ce a v膬zut so葲ia lui Barb膬 Albastr膬.
Dac膬 v膬 plac umorul, salturile temporale 葯颈 卯ntors膬turile destinului, nu pregeta葲i s膬 citi葲i romanul lui Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
A葲i tr膬it vreodat膬 o non-epifanie? Cum, nu 葯ti葲i ce 卯nseamn膬 o non-epifanie? Atunci studia葲i cu aten葲ie acest pasaj: 鈥濸ersonal n-am avut nevoie de nici un fel de instruc葲iuni din partea femeii mai 卯n v卯rst膬 ca mine 葯颈 mai experimentat膬 [Marilee Kemp, n.m.]. Am nimerit 葲inta, am nimerit 葲inta 葯颈 iar am nimerit 葲inta!鈥� A tr膬i o astfel de 卯nt卯mplare, precizeaz膬 prietenul lui Rabo, Terry Kitchen, 卯nseamn膬 鈥瀉 experimenta o non-epifanie鈥�...
P. S. Un am膬nunt anecdotic: 卯n data de 22 august 2012, prolifica Am茅lie Nothomb a publicat (dou膬 sute de mii de exemplare, primul tiraj!) un roman de enorm succes cu titlul Barb膬 Albastr膬, tradus instantaneu 卯n 46 de limbi 葯颈 elogiat prompt, 卯n 尝鈥椭虫辫谤别蝉蝉 葯颈 Le Soir, de critici literari foarte versa葲i.
Nu e pu葲in lucru s膬 izbucne葯ti 卯n r卯s la (aproape) fiecare paragraf. Umorul lui Kurt Vonnegut e devastator. 脦l admir de mai bine de 3 decenii. Despre ce e vorba 卯n Barb膬 Albastr膬? Fire葯te, fire葯te, de o c膬mar膬 secret膬, ca 卯n povestea lui Charles Perrault. Exist膬, totu葯颈, o mic膬 diferen葲膬 卯ntre roman 葯颈 poveste. De data aceasta, Barb膬 Albastr膬 (alias pictorul Rabo Karabekian) se las膬 convins s膬 deschid膬 u葯a c膬m膬rii interzise. Dar ceea ce vede 卯nso葲itoarea lui Rabo (prozatoarea Circe Berman) este 葯颈 mai terifiant dec卯t ceea ce a v膬zut so葲ia lui Barb膬 Albastr膬.
Dac膬 v膬 plac umorul, salturile temporale 葯颈 卯ntors膬turile destinului, nu pregeta葲i s膬 citi葲i romanul lui Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
A葲i tr膬it vreodat膬 o non-epifanie? Cum, nu 葯ti葲i ce 卯nseamn膬 o non-epifanie? Atunci studia葲i cu aten葲ie acest pasaj: 鈥濸ersonal n-am avut nevoie de nici un fel de instruc葲iuni din partea femeii mai 卯n v卯rst膬 ca mine 葯颈 mai experimentat膬 [Marilee Kemp, n.m.]. Am nimerit 葲inta, am nimerit 葲inta 葯颈 iar am nimerit 葲inta!鈥� A tr膬i o astfel de 卯nt卯mplare, precizeaz膬 prietenul lui Rabo, Terry Kitchen, 卯nseamn膬 鈥瀉 experimenta o non-epifanie鈥�...
P. S. Un am膬nunt anecdotic: 卯n data de 22 august 2012, prolifica Am茅lie Nothomb a publicat (dou膬 sute de mii de exemplare, primul tiraj!) un roman de enorm succes cu titlul Barb膬 Albastr膬, tradus instantaneu 卯n 46 de limbi 葯颈 elogiat prompt, 卯n 尝鈥椭虫辫谤别蝉蝉 葯颈 Le Soir, de critici literari foarte versa葲i.
August 8, 2019
This is Vonnegut, so it鈥檚 quirky, knowing, silly, intelligent, funny, mysterious (what IS in the potato barn?) and anti-war 鈥� amongst many other things. It's conversational, and broken into very short chunks, but don't be deceived into thinking it's lightweight.
It claims to be the autobiography of Rabo Karabekian, an Armenian-American WW2 veteran who became a major figure in , after an apprenticeship with realist illustrator, Dan Gregory. It reads more as a memoir, interspersed with 鈥淏ulletin from the present鈥� sections which cover the eventful months he wrote it. The backstory is relatively straight; the present day, more comical. (All the main characters are fictitious, but a few real names are dropped, such as Jackson Pollock.)
It鈥檚 the 1980s, Rabo is in his 70s, and is living alone in a huge house in the Hamptons. He no longer paints, but is wealthy from his art collection and from property he inherited on the death of his second wife, Edith. He鈥檚 not actually alone, as his cook lives in, with her daughter, and his writer friend, Paul Slazenger, practically lives there. But he wants to be alone, or thinks he does 鈥� until it looks as if it鈥檚 going to happen (his mother thought 鈥渢he most pervasive American disease was loneliness鈥�). Then the widow Circe Berman turns up, and everything changes.
Image: abstract expressionist picture by Willem de Kooning, The Visit 1966鈥�7. (.)
The Meaning and Value of Art
鈥�How can you tell a good painting from a bad one? All you have to do鈥� is look at a million paintings, and they you can never be mistaken.鈥�
Should paintings 鈥� and their titles 鈥� communicate? (If not, what鈥檚 the point?) This is a recurring question, with a variety of answers. Old, lonely, and guarding his Abstract Expressionist paintings, Rabo says that they 鈥渁re about absolutely nothing but themselves鈥�, and lack of passion and message in his works was why he was rejected by art school. When Circe first sees his abstract works, she declares 鈥測ou hate facts like poison鈥�. And yet Rabo CAN draw 鈥� very well; the fact he doesn鈥檛 is 鈥渂ecause it鈥檚 just too fucking easy.鈥�
In contrast, Dan Gregory鈥檚 works are hyper-realistic, and Rabo describes them as 鈥渢ruthful about material things, but they lied about time鈥� because Dan was 鈥渁 taxidermist鈥� [of] great moments鈥�. One of the first things he taught Rabo was the importance of the phrase 鈥淭he Emperor has no clothes鈥�. It鈥檚 for the reader to decide which art that applies to.
There is a visceral thrill: 鈥淚 discovered something as powerful and irresponsible as shooting up with heroin: if I start laying on just one colour of paint to a huge canvas, I could make the whole world drop away鈥�. But it doesn鈥檛 work like that for everyone: of one artist, 鈥淚 would look into his eyes and there wasn鈥檛 anybody home any more鈥�, and he says similar about someone else.
Inflated art prices (and exploitative venture capitalists and investment bankers) are lampooned, especially by the fact that 鈥淢y paintings, thanks to unforeseen chemical reactions鈥� all destroyed themselves鈥�, including ones that sold for $20,000. Sateen Dura-Luxe proved to be anything but durable. In contrast, his teenage works were made with the best possible materials, given to him from the stores of a successful artist.
Writing is another art form central to the narrative: Rabo is now writing; his friends Circe Berman and Paul Slazenger are also writers, of varying success, and the letters of Dan Gregory鈥檚 PA, Marilee, are crucial to the story. The secret is 鈥渢o write for just one person鈥�. How you decide who that is, is unclear.
Circe Berman
The widow Berman is a wonderful comic creation; I鈥檇 love to meet her, though hate to share a home with her. Her opening line on meeting Rabo is 鈥淭ell me how your parents died鈥�, because 鈥渉ello鈥� means 鈥渄on鈥檛 talk about anything important鈥�. It鈥檚 also symptomatic of her pathological inquisitiveness (鈥渢he most ferocious enemy of privacy I ever knew鈥�). His father died alone in a cinema, and she immediately asks 鈥淲hat was the movie?鈥� 鈥� shades of Graham Greene鈥檚 short story, .
Her chutzpah is breath-taking 鈥� the way she storms into Rabo鈥檚 life and takes control of him, his house, his time and those around him. He is staggered, outraged鈥� and compliant: 鈥溾€橶ho is she to reward and punish me, and what the hell is this: a nursery school or a prison camp?鈥� I don鈥檛 asker that, because she might take away all my privileges.鈥�
Bluebeard and What's in the Potato Barn
I read this book because I wanted to read another Vonnegut, and I was intrigued to see to what extent the title reflected the traditional story of Bluebeard (see my review of Angela Carter's version HERE), or even its echoes in Jane Eyre (see my review HERE).
It鈥檚 a gentle nod, but it helps if you鈥檙e aware of the original: In the grounds, Rabo has a potato barn that used to be his studio. It is now locked up, and its contents secret: 鈥淚 am Bluebeard, and my studio is my forbidden chamber鈥�, but 鈥渢here are no bodies in my barn鈥�.
Much of the book is an elaborate tease as to what鈥檚 in there, why, and whether the reader will ever find out. In contrast to his allegedly message-less paintings, Rabo says that the barn contains 鈥渢he emptiest and yet the fullest of human messages鈥�.
There are other forbidden places: Dan Gregory鈥檚 is the Museum Of Modern Art, Paul Slazenger鈥檚 is his Theory of Revolution, currently in his head, and Circe Berman must have something, but I don鈥檛 know what or where.
War, Death, and Resurrection
The main character is an injured veteran who came to the US as a child refugee from another war. It鈥檚 not a ranting pacifist book, and Rabo himself has fond memories of the army, but Vonnegut鈥檚 anti-war opinions shine through, especially at the end. Sometimes this is poignant: Rabo is utterly repulsed by the scarring around his missing eye, and always wears a patch. Sometimes it is more satirical: WW2 was promoted to Americans on promises of 鈥渁 final war between good and evil, so that nothing would do but that it be followed by miracles, Instant coffee was one. DDT was another. It was going to kill all the bugs, and almost did. Nuclear energy was going to make electricity so cheap that it might not even be metered鈥� Antibiotics would defeat all diseases. Lazarus would never die: How was that for a scheme to make the Son of God obsolete?鈥�
In fact, it鈥檚 Rabo who is Lazarus. Circe explicitly says so when he complains about her intrusion into and control of him, 鈥淚 brought you back to life鈥� You鈥檙e my Lazarus鈥�, and his beloved second wife, Edith, had had a similar effect.
As a youth, Rabo assumed society had evolved so that people would no longer be fooled by the apparent romance of war, but as an old man, he observes 鈥測ou can buy a machine gun with a plastic bayonet for your little kid鈥�.
The Inimitable Dan Gregory (Refrain)
The central third of the book feels as much like a biography of Dan Gregory as of Rabo.
Where Slaughterhouse Five has the recurring phrase 鈥渟o it goes鈥�, in this, it鈥檚 a series of superlatives about Dan Gregory: 鈥淣obody could [do x] like Dan Gregory鈥�. His achievements include: 鈥渄raw cheap, mail-order clothes鈥�, 鈥減aint grime鈥�, 鈥渃ounterfeit rust and rust-stained oak鈥�, 鈥渃ounterfeit plant diseases鈥�, 鈥渃ounterfeit more accents from stage, screen and radio鈥�, 鈥渃ounterfeit images in dusty mirrors鈥�, 鈥減aint black people鈥�, 鈥減ut more of the excitement of a single moment into the eyes of stuffed animals鈥�.
Quotes
鈥� 鈥淣ever trust a survivor鈥� until you find out what he did to stay alive.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淧erfectly beautiful cowboy boots鈥� dazzling jewelry for manly feet.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淪he had life. I had accumulated anecdotes.鈥�
鈥� Old canvases 鈥淧urged of every trace of Sateen Dura-Luxe, and restretched and reprimed鈥� dazzling white in their restored virginity.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淭hey are a negation of art! They aren鈥檛 just neutral. They are black holes from which no intelligence or skill can ever escape. Worse than that, they suck up the dignity, the self-respect, of anybody unfortunate enough to have to look at them.鈥� (What Rabo thinks of Circe鈥檚 choice of pictures.)
Suggested by Rand, as being in a similar vein to Vonnegut's excellent Galapogos (see my review HERE).
It claims to be the autobiography of Rabo Karabekian, an Armenian-American WW2 veteran who became a major figure in , after an apprenticeship with realist illustrator, Dan Gregory. It reads more as a memoir, interspersed with 鈥淏ulletin from the present鈥� sections which cover the eventful months he wrote it. The backstory is relatively straight; the present day, more comical. (All the main characters are fictitious, but a few real names are dropped, such as Jackson Pollock.)
It鈥檚 the 1980s, Rabo is in his 70s, and is living alone in a huge house in the Hamptons. He no longer paints, but is wealthy from his art collection and from property he inherited on the death of his second wife, Edith. He鈥檚 not actually alone, as his cook lives in, with her daughter, and his writer friend, Paul Slazenger, practically lives there. But he wants to be alone, or thinks he does 鈥� until it looks as if it鈥檚 going to happen (his mother thought 鈥渢he most pervasive American disease was loneliness鈥�). Then the widow Circe Berman turns up, and everything changes.
Image: abstract expressionist picture by Willem de Kooning, The Visit 1966鈥�7. (.)
The Meaning and Value of Art
鈥�How can you tell a good painting from a bad one? All you have to do鈥� is look at a million paintings, and they you can never be mistaken.鈥�
Should paintings 鈥� and their titles 鈥� communicate? (If not, what鈥檚 the point?) This is a recurring question, with a variety of answers. Old, lonely, and guarding his Abstract Expressionist paintings, Rabo says that they 鈥渁re about absolutely nothing but themselves鈥�, and lack of passion and message in his works was why he was rejected by art school. When Circe first sees his abstract works, she declares 鈥測ou hate facts like poison鈥�. And yet Rabo CAN draw 鈥� very well; the fact he doesn鈥檛 is 鈥渂ecause it鈥檚 just too fucking easy.鈥�
In contrast, Dan Gregory鈥檚 works are hyper-realistic, and Rabo describes them as 鈥渢ruthful about material things, but they lied about time鈥� because Dan was 鈥渁 taxidermist鈥� [of] great moments鈥�. One of the first things he taught Rabo was the importance of the phrase 鈥淭he Emperor has no clothes鈥�. It鈥檚 for the reader to decide which art that applies to.
There is a visceral thrill: 鈥淚 discovered something as powerful and irresponsible as shooting up with heroin: if I start laying on just one colour of paint to a huge canvas, I could make the whole world drop away鈥�. But it doesn鈥檛 work like that for everyone: of one artist, 鈥淚 would look into his eyes and there wasn鈥檛 anybody home any more鈥�, and he says similar about someone else.
Inflated art prices (and exploitative venture capitalists and investment bankers) are lampooned, especially by the fact that 鈥淢y paintings, thanks to unforeseen chemical reactions鈥� all destroyed themselves鈥�, including ones that sold for $20,000. Sateen Dura-Luxe proved to be anything but durable. In contrast, his teenage works were made with the best possible materials, given to him from the stores of a successful artist.
Writing is another art form central to the narrative: Rabo is now writing; his friends Circe Berman and Paul Slazenger are also writers, of varying success, and the letters of Dan Gregory鈥檚 PA, Marilee, are crucial to the story. The secret is 鈥渢o write for just one person鈥�. How you decide who that is, is unclear.
Circe Berman
The widow Berman is a wonderful comic creation; I鈥檇 love to meet her, though hate to share a home with her. Her opening line on meeting Rabo is 鈥淭ell me how your parents died鈥�, because 鈥渉ello鈥� means 鈥渄on鈥檛 talk about anything important鈥�. It鈥檚 also symptomatic of her pathological inquisitiveness (鈥渢he most ferocious enemy of privacy I ever knew鈥�). His father died alone in a cinema, and she immediately asks 鈥淲hat was the movie?鈥� 鈥� shades of Graham Greene鈥檚 short story, .
Her chutzpah is breath-taking 鈥� the way she storms into Rabo鈥檚 life and takes control of him, his house, his time and those around him. He is staggered, outraged鈥� and compliant: 鈥溾€橶ho is she to reward and punish me, and what the hell is this: a nursery school or a prison camp?鈥� I don鈥檛 asker that, because she might take away all my privileges.鈥�
Bluebeard and What's in the Potato Barn
I read this book because I wanted to read another Vonnegut, and I was intrigued to see to what extent the title reflected the traditional story of Bluebeard (see my review of Angela Carter's version HERE), or even its echoes in Jane Eyre (see my review HERE).
It鈥檚 a gentle nod, but it helps if you鈥檙e aware of the original: In the grounds, Rabo has a potato barn that used to be his studio. It is now locked up, and its contents secret: 鈥淚 am Bluebeard, and my studio is my forbidden chamber鈥�, but 鈥渢here are no bodies in my barn鈥�.
Much of the book is an elaborate tease as to what鈥檚 in there, why, and whether the reader will ever find out. In contrast to his allegedly message-less paintings, Rabo says that the barn contains 鈥渢he emptiest and yet the fullest of human messages鈥�.
There are other forbidden places: Dan Gregory鈥檚 is the Museum Of Modern Art, Paul Slazenger鈥檚 is his Theory of Revolution, currently in his head, and Circe Berman must have something, but I don鈥檛 know what or where.
War, Death, and Resurrection
The main character is an injured veteran who came to the US as a child refugee from another war. It鈥檚 not a ranting pacifist book, and Rabo himself has fond memories of the army, but Vonnegut鈥檚 anti-war opinions shine through, especially at the end. Sometimes this is poignant: Rabo is utterly repulsed by the scarring around his missing eye, and always wears a patch. Sometimes it is more satirical: WW2 was promoted to Americans on promises of 鈥渁 final war between good and evil, so that nothing would do but that it be followed by miracles, Instant coffee was one. DDT was another. It was going to kill all the bugs, and almost did. Nuclear energy was going to make electricity so cheap that it might not even be metered鈥� Antibiotics would defeat all diseases. Lazarus would never die: How was that for a scheme to make the Son of God obsolete?鈥�
In fact, it鈥檚 Rabo who is Lazarus. Circe explicitly says so when he complains about her intrusion into and control of him, 鈥淚 brought you back to life鈥� You鈥檙e my Lazarus鈥�, and his beloved second wife, Edith, had had a similar effect.
As a youth, Rabo assumed society had evolved so that people would no longer be fooled by the apparent romance of war, but as an old man, he observes 鈥測ou can buy a machine gun with a plastic bayonet for your little kid鈥�.
The Inimitable Dan Gregory (Refrain)
The central third of the book feels as much like a biography of Dan Gregory as of Rabo.
Where Slaughterhouse Five has the recurring phrase 鈥渟o it goes鈥�, in this, it鈥檚 a series of superlatives about Dan Gregory: 鈥淣obody could [do x] like Dan Gregory鈥�. His achievements include: 鈥渄raw cheap, mail-order clothes鈥�, 鈥減aint grime鈥�, 鈥渃ounterfeit rust and rust-stained oak鈥�, 鈥渃ounterfeit plant diseases鈥�, 鈥渃ounterfeit more accents from stage, screen and radio鈥�, 鈥渃ounterfeit images in dusty mirrors鈥�, 鈥減aint black people鈥�, 鈥減ut more of the excitement of a single moment into the eyes of stuffed animals鈥�.
Quotes
鈥� 鈥淣ever trust a survivor鈥� until you find out what he did to stay alive.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淧erfectly beautiful cowboy boots鈥� dazzling jewelry for manly feet.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淪he had life. I had accumulated anecdotes.鈥�
鈥� Old canvases 鈥淧urged of every trace of Sateen Dura-Luxe, and restretched and reprimed鈥� dazzling white in their restored virginity.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淭hey are a negation of art! They aren鈥檛 just neutral. They are black holes from which no intelligence or skill can ever escape. Worse than that, they suck up the dignity, the self-respect, of anybody unfortunate enough to have to look at them.鈥� (What Rabo thinks of Circe鈥檚 choice of pictures.)
Suggested by Rand, as being in a similar vein to Vonnegut's excellent Galapogos (see my review HERE).
March 17, 2017
鈥淲hat a fool I would have been to let self-respect interfere with my happiness!鈥�
鈥� Kurt Vonnegut, Bluebeard
A pseudo memoir of Rabo Karabekian a minor Abstract Expressionist whose art literally disappeared (thanks to a poor choice in paints). It is hard to relay what the book essentially is, but obviously it is an autobiography of an almost loner, a hermit with a roommate. He lives in his big house in the Hamptons among the art he bought cheap (Rothkos, Pollocks, etc) years ago. He is being bullied into writing his memoirs by Polly Madison, a writer of cheap blockbuster novels. At its heart, this novel is Vonnegut working his way through some of his previous big themes (war, isolation, humanism, pacifism) along with explorations of art, commerce, &c.
This isn't one of his better novels, but is firmly in the middle of the pack. I personally wish Vonnegut spent more time playing with the artistic canvas, but the sections he spent dealing with Rabo apprenticing under Dan Gregory (I get a N.C. Wyeth or Howard Pyle vibe), a very popular illustrator, is worth the entire cost of reading anything clunky in some of the other sections.
鈥� Kurt Vonnegut, Bluebeard
A pseudo memoir of Rabo Karabekian a minor Abstract Expressionist whose art literally disappeared (thanks to a poor choice in paints). It is hard to relay what the book essentially is, but obviously it is an autobiography of an almost loner, a hermit with a roommate. He lives in his big house in the Hamptons among the art he bought cheap (Rothkos, Pollocks, etc) years ago. He is being bullied into writing his memoirs by Polly Madison, a writer of cheap blockbuster novels. At its heart, this novel is Vonnegut working his way through some of his previous big themes (war, isolation, humanism, pacifism) along with explorations of art, commerce, &c.
This isn't one of his better novels, but is firmly in the middle of the pack. I personally wish Vonnegut spent more time playing with the artistic canvas, but the sections he spent dealing with Rabo apprenticing under Dan Gregory (I get a N.C. Wyeth or Howard Pyle vibe), a very popular illustrator, is worth the entire cost of reading anything clunky in some of the other sections.
February 7, 2017
螌位畏 畏 慰蠀蟽委伪 魏蟻蠀渭渭苇谓畏 蟽蟿慰 渭蠀蟽蟿喂魏蠈 蟿畏蟼 魏位蔚喂未伪渭蟺伪蟻蠅渭苇谓畏蟼 蟺伪位喂维蟼 蟺伪蟿伪蟿伪蟺慰胃萎魏畏蟼.
螠苇蠂蟻喂 谓伪 伪蟺慰魏伪位蠀蠁胃蔚委 蟿慰 渭蠀蟽蟿萎蟻喂慰 蟿慰蠀 螝蠀伪谓慰蟺蠋纬蠅谓伪 渭蟺伪委谓慰蠀渭蔚 蟽蔚 渭喂伪 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委伪 味蠅萎蟼 蟺伪蟻维未慰尉畏 魏伪喂 蟽蠀渭尾伪蟿萎 渭蔚 蟺伪纬喂蠅渭苇谓蔚蟼 伪谓蟿喂蟺慰位蔚渭喂魏苇蟼 伪蟺蠈蠄蔚喂蟼,蟿蟻伪蠀渭伪蟿喂魏维 尾喂蠋渭伪蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 伪蠀蟿慰魏伪蟿伪蟽蟿蟻慰蠁萎 蟿畏蟼 魏伪位位喂蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎蟼 蠄蠀蠂萎蟼 蟽蟿慰 尾蠅渭蠈 蟿畏蟼 韦苇蠂谓畏蟼.
螣 伪蠁畏纬畏蟿萎蟼 渭伪蟼 蔚委谓伪喂 苇谓伪蟼 渭慰谓蠈蠁胃伪位渭慰蟼 尾蔚蟿蔚蟻维谓慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 螔麓蟺伪纬魏慰蟽渭委慰蠀 蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀,纬蔚谓谓畏渭苇谓慰蟼 伪蟺慰 纬慰谓蔚委蟼 蟺慰蠀 蔚蟺喂尾委蠅蟽伪谓 蟽蟿畏谓 纬蔚谓慰魏蟿慰谓委伪 蟿蠅谓 螒蟻渭蔚谓委蠅谓 魏伪喂 苇味畏蟽伪谓 蠅蟼 渭蔚蟿伪谓维蟽蟿蔚蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎.
螣 委未喂慰蟼 苇谓伪蟼 伪蟺慰蟿蠀蠂畏渭苇谓慰蟼 味蠅纬蟻维蠁慰蟼,蠁蟻喂魏蟿蠈蟼 蟽蠉味蠀纬慰蟼 魏伪喂 伪蟺伪蟻维未蔚魏蟿慰蟼 蟺伪蟿苇蟻伪蟼 未蠀蟽蟿蠀蠂蠋蟼 魏伪蟿伪谓慰蔚委 蟺位萎蟻蠅蟼 蟿畏谓 伪谓蔚蟺维蟻魏蔚喂伪 蟿慰蠀 蟽蔚 蠈位慰蠀蟼 蟿慰蠀蟼 蟿慰渭蔚委蟼 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼 魏伪喂 味蔚喂 伪蟺慰渭慰谓蠅渭苇谓慰蟼 蟽蔚 渭喂伪 蔚尉慰蠂喂魏萎 蟺慰位蠀蟿蔚位苇蟽蟿伪蟿畏 魏伪蟿慰喂魏委伪 19 未蠅渭伪蟿委蠅谓 渭蔚 喂未喂蠅蟿喂魏萎 蟺伪蟻伪位委伪,蟿畏谓 慰蟺慰委伪 苇蠂蔚喂 渭蔚蟿伪蟿蟻苇蠄蔚喂 蟽蔚 渭慰蠀蟽蔚委慰 纬喂伪 蟿伪 苇蟻纬伪 蟿蠅谓 蠁委位蠅谓 蟿慰蠀. 螌位慰喂 慰喂 蠀蟺慰蟿喂胃苇渭蔚谓慰喂 蠁委位慰喂 蟿慰蠀 萎蟿伪谓 蟽蟿畏谓 渭蔚蟿伪蟺慰位蔚渭喂魏萎 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 魏伪位位喂蟿苇蠂谓蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀 伪蠁畏蟻畏渭苇谓慰蠀 蔚尉蟺蟻蔚蟽喂慰谓喂蟽渭慰蠉.
螌蟿伪谓 蟿慰 魏委谓畏渭伪 蟿慰蠀 伪蠁畏蟻畏渭苇谓慰蠀 蔚尉蟺蟻蔚蟽喂慰谓喂蟽渭慰蠉 胃伪 伪谓伪纬谓蠅蟻喂蟽蟿蔚委 蔚蟺喂蟽萎渭蠅蟼,蔚魏蔚委谓慰蟼 蠅蟼 魏慰蟻蠀蠁伪委慰蟼 蟽蠀位位苇魏蟿畏蟼 胃伪 伪蟺慰魏蟿萎蟽蔚喂 蟺蔚蟻喂慰蠀蟽委伪 蔚魏伪蟿慰渭渭蠀蟻委蠅谓 魏伪喂 伪魏蟻维未伪谓蟿畏 蟺蔚蟺慰委胃畏蟽畏 蟺蠅蟼 未蔚谓 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 魏伪谓苇谓伪 谓蠈畏渭伪 蟽蟿畏谓 纬蔚蟻伪蟽渭苇谓畏 伪谓伪渭慰谓萎.. 纬喂伪 蟿畏谓 苇谓伪蟻尉畏 蟿畏蟼 伪位畏胃喂谓萎蟼 味蠅萎蟼 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 伪谓蔚魏蟺位萎蟻蠅蟿蠅谓 蟺蟻慰蟽未慰魏喂蠋谓.
危蟿慰 蠁胃喂谓蠈蟺蠅蟻慰 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼 蟿慰蠀 蔚委谓伪喂 蟺维渭蟺位慰蠀蟿慰蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蠀谓蔚喂未畏蟿慰蟺慰喂畏渭苇谓慰蟼 蟺蠅蟼 蟽蟿慰 伪蟿蔚位喂苇 蟿畏蟼 蠄蠀蠂萎蟼 蟿慰蠀 未蔚谓 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 蟺位苇慰谓 魏伪谓苇谓伪 慰蠀蟽喂蠋未蔚蟼 苇蟻纬慰 蟿苇蠂谓畏蟼.
韦慰 蟿伪尉委未喂 渭伪蟼 纬委谓蔚蟿伪喂 伪谓伪蠂蟻慰谓喂蟽蟿喂魏维 蟽蟿畏谓 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 蟿畏蟼 慰喂魏慰谓慰渭喂魏萎蟼 魏蟻委蟽畏蟼 蟿慰蠀 '30, 蟽蟿畏谓 渭蔚蟿伪蟺慰位蔚渭喂魏萎 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 蟿畏蟼 伪蟺伪尉委蠅蟽畏蟼 蟿慰蠀 '50 魏伪喂 蟽蟿畏谓 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀 '80 魏伪喂 蟿畏蟼 魏位蔚渭渭苇谓畏蟼 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委伪蟼 魏伪喂 谓慰慰蟿蟻慰蟺委伪蟼.
螘委谓伪喂 渭喂伪 胃位喂尾蔚蟻萎 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委伪 渭蔚 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻.
违蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 魏伪喂 ...芦苇谓伪蟼 蟺蠈位蔚渭慰蟼 纬喂伪 魏维胃蔚 蟺蔚位维蟿畏禄.
螢蔚魏喂谓维渭蔚 伪蟺慰 蟿畏谓 纬蔚谓慰魏蟿慰谓委伪 蟿蠅谓 螒蟻渭蔚谓委蠅谓,蟺蟻慰蠂蠅蟻维渭蔚 蟽蟿畏 蠁伪蟽喂蟽蟿喂魏萎 螜蟿伪位委伪 魏伪喂 蟿伪 伪委蟽蠂畏,蟽蠀谓蔚蠂委味慰蠀渭蔚 渭蔚 蟿慰 渭伪魏蔚位蔚喂蠈 蟿慰蠀 螔麓蟺伪纬魏慰蟽渭委慰蠀 蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 蔚尉蔚位委尉蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 渭蟺慰蟻蔚委 谓伪 蔚蟺喂蠁苇蟻蔚喂 畏 伪喂渭伪蟿慰蠂蠀蟽委伪 蟿慰蠀 蟺位伪谓萎蟿畏,伪魏慰位慰蠀胃蔚委 畏 尾伪蟻尾伪蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪 蟿慰蠀 螤慰位苇渭慰蠀 蟿畏蟼 螝慰蟻苇伪蟼 魏伪喂 伪蟺慰 蟺委蟽蠅 蟿畏蟼 慰 螤蠈位蔚渭慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 螔喂蔚蟿谓维渭 魏伪蟿蔚尾维味蔚喂 纬喂伪 位委纬慰 蟿畏谓 伪蠀位伪委伪 蟽蟿慰 胃苇伪蟿蟻慰 蟿畏蟼 蟿蟻伪纬喂魏蠈蟿畏蟿伪蟼 蟿畏蟼 蠉蟺伪蟻尉畏蟼.
螚 蠁蟻委魏畏 纬喂伪 蟿慰谓 维纬蟻喂慰 魏伪喂 维未喂魏慰 胃维谓伪蟿慰 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏伪喂 畏 蟺伪蟻维谓慰喂伪 魏伪喂 畏 伪蠀蟿慰蠂蔚喂蟻委伪 蠅蟼 渭苇蟽蠅 位蠉蟿蟻蠅蟽畏蟼 蟽蟿喂蟼 蔚蠀伪委蟽胃畏蟿蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟺慰位蠀蟿维位伪谓蟿蔚蟼 蠄蠀蠂苇蟼, 伪谓蟿喂蟺伪蟻伪蟿委胃蔚谓蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蟿慰 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻,蟿畏谓 蔚喂蟻蠅谓委伪 魏伪喂 蟿慰谓 蔚蠉蟽蟿慰蠂慰 蟽伪蟻魏伪蟽渭蠈 蟽蔚 蠈位畏 蟿畏谓 未喂维蟻魏蔚喂伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 蔚尉苇位喂尉畏 蟿畏蟼 蟺位慰魏萎蟼.
螠蔚 魏慰蠉蟻伪蟽伪谓 慰喂 伪谓伪蠁慰蟻苇蟼 蟽蟿喂蟼 喂未喂蠈蟿畏蟿蔚蟼 蟿畏蟼 蟿苇蠂谓畏蟼 蠅蟼 渭苇蟽慰 蔚蟺喂魏慰喂谓蠅谓喂伪魏蠈 萎 伪蠀蟿蠈魏位畏蟿慰 魏伪喂 渭慰谓伪蠂喂魏蠈.
螖蔚谓 魏伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻伪 谓伪 魏伪蟿伪谓慰萎蟽蠅 伪谓 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 蟿蔚位喂魏维 谓伪 伪尉喂慰位慰纬蠋 蟿畏谓 蟿苇蠂谓畏 蠅蟼 伪谓蠋蟿蔚蟻畏 伪谓伪位蠈纬蠅蟼 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 蟻蔚伪位喂蟽蟿喂魏萎 萎 蟿畏谓 伪蠁畏蟻畏渭苇谓畏 渭慰蟻蠁萎 蟿畏蟼,蟽蠉渭蠁蠅谓伪 渭蔚 蟿慰谓 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪.
螠蔚 蠈蠂畏渭伪 蟿慰 渭伪蠉蟻慰 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 伪谓胃蟻蠅蟺喂蟽蟿喂魏苇蟼 伪尉委蔚蟼 渭伪蟼 慰未畏纬蔚委 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蟿慰蠀蟼 蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀蟼,蟿畏谓 伪谓苇蠂蔚喂伪,蟿畏谓 蟺蔚蟻喂慰蟻喂蟽渭苇谓畏 蔚蠀胃蠉谓畏 蟿畏蟼 伪蠀蟿慰纬谓蠅蟽委伪蟼 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 伪尉喂慰胃伪蠉渭伪蟽蟿畏 蔚蟺喂蟻蟻慰萎 蟿畏蟼 蟿苇蠂谓畏蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓畏 蠉蟺伪蟻尉畏.
螘蠀魏慰位慰未喂维尾伪蟽蟿慰 魏伪喂 渭蔚 胃位喂尾蔚蟻维 蟺喂魏蟻蠈 谓蠈畏渭伪 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 蟿慰蠉蟿慰.
螤伪蟻蠈位伪 伪蠀蟿维 未蔚谓 喂魏伪谓慰蟺慰委畏蟽蔚 蟿伪 位维纬谓伪 伪谓伪纬谓蠅蟽蟿喂魏维 渭慰蠀 苇谓蟽蟿喂魏蟿伪.
螖蔚谓 魏伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻蔚 谓伪 魏慰蟻蠀蠁蠋蟽蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 伪谓伪纬谓蠅蟽蟿喂魏苇蟼 渭慰蠀 蔚渭渭慰谓苇蟼!
螝伪位萎 伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏
螤慰位位慰蠉蟼 伪蟽蟺伪蟽渭慰蠉蟼.
螠苇蠂蟻喂 谓伪 伪蟺慰魏伪位蠀蠁胃蔚委 蟿慰 渭蠀蟽蟿萎蟻喂慰 蟿慰蠀 螝蠀伪谓慰蟺蠋纬蠅谓伪 渭蟺伪委谓慰蠀渭蔚 蟽蔚 渭喂伪 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委伪 味蠅萎蟼 蟺伪蟻维未慰尉畏 魏伪喂 蟽蠀渭尾伪蟿萎 渭蔚 蟺伪纬喂蠅渭苇谓蔚蟼 伪谓蟿喂蟺慰位蔚渭喂魏苇蟼 伪蟺蠈蠄蔚喂蟼,蟿蟻伪蠀渭伪蟿喂魏维 尾喂蠋渭伪蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 伪蠀蟿慰魏伪蟿伪蟽蟿蟻慰蠁萎 蟿畏蟼 魏伪位位喂蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎蟼 蠄蠀蠂萎蟼 蟽蟿慰 尾蠅渭蠈 蟿畏蟼 韦苇蠂谓畏蟼.
螣 伪蠁畏纬畏蟿萎蟼 渭伪蟼 蔚委谓伪喂 苇谓伪蟼 渭慰谓蠈蠁胃伪位渭慰蟼 尾蔚蟿蔚蟻维谓慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 螔麓蟺伪纬魏慰蟽渭委慰蠀 蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀,纬蔚谓谓畏渭苇谓慰蟼 伪蟺慰 纬慰谓蔚委蟼 蟺慰蠀 蔚蟺喂尾委蠅蟽伪谓 蟽蟿畏谓 纬蔚谓慰魏蟿慰谓委伪 蟿蠅谓 螒蟻渭蔚谓委蠅谓 魏伪喂 苇味畏蟽伪谓 蠅蟼 渭蔚蟿伪谓维蟽蟿蔚蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎.
螣 委未喂慰蟼 苇谓伪蟼 伪蟺慰蟿蠀蠂畏渭苇谓慰蟼 味蠅纬蟻维蠁慰蟼,蠁蟻喂魏蟿蠈蟼 蟽蠉味蠀纬慰蟼 魏伪喂 伪蟺伪蟻维未蔚魏蟿慰蟼 蟺伪蟿苇蟻伪蟼 未蠀蟽蟿蠀蠂蠋蟼 魏伪蟿伪谓慰蔚委 蟺位萎蟻蠅蟼 蟿畏谓 伪谓蔚蟺维蟻魏蔚喂伪 蟿慰蠀 蟽蔚 蠈位慰蠀蟼 蟿慰蠀蟼 蟿慰渭蔚委蟼 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼 魏伪喂 味蔚喂 伪蟺慰渭慰谓蠅渭苇谓慰蟼 蟽蔚 渭喂伪 蔚尉慰蠂喂魏萎 蟺慰位蠀蟿蔚位苇蟽蟿伪蟿畏 魏伪蟿慰喂魏委伪 19 未蠅渭伪蟿委蠅谓 渭蔚 喂未喂蠅蟿喂魏萎 蟺伪蟻伪位委伪,蟿畏谓 慰蟺慰委伪 苇蠂蔚喂 渭蔚蟿伪蟿蟻苇蠄蔚喂 蟽蔚 渭慰蠀蟽蔚委慰 纬喂伪 蟿伪 苇蟻纬伪 蟿蠅谓 蠁委位蠅谓 蟿慰蠀. 螌位慰喂 慰喂 蠀蟺慰蟿喂胃苇渭蔚谓慰喂 蠁委位慰喂 蟿慰蠀 萎蟿伪谓 蟽蟿畏谓 渭蔚蟿伪蟺慰位蔚渭喂魏萎 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 魏伪位位喂蟿苇蠂谓蔚蟼 蟿慰蠀 伪蠁畏蟻畏渭苇谓慰蠀 蔚尉蟺蟻蔚蟽喂慰谓喂蟽渭慰蠉.
螌蟿伪谓 蟿慰 魏委谓畏渭伪 蟿慰蠀 伪蠁畏蟻畏渭苇谓慰蠀 蔚尉蟺蟻蔚蟽喂慰谓喂蟽渭慰蠉 胃伪 伪谓伪纬谓蠅蟻喂蟽蟿蔚委 蔚蟺喂蟽萎渭蠅蟼,蔚魏蔚委谓慰蟼 蠅蟼 魏慰蟻蠀蠁伪委慰蟼 蟽蠀位位苇魏蟿畏蟼 胃伪 伪蟺慰魏蟿萎蟽蔚喂 蟺蔚蟻喂慰蠀蟽委伪 蔚魏伪蟿慰渭渭蠀蟻委蠅谓 魏伪喂 伪魏蟻维未伪谓蟿畏 蟺蔚蟺慰委胃畏蟽畏 蟺蠅蟼 未蔚谓 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 魏伪谓苇谓伪 谓蠈畏渭伪 蟽蟿畏谓 纬蔚蟻伪蟽渭苇谓畏 伪谓伪渭慰谓萎.. 纬喂伪 蟿畏谓 苇谓伪蟻尉畏 蟿畏蟼 伪位畏胃喂谓萎蟼 味蠅萎蟼 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 伪谓蔚魏蟺位萎蟻蠅蟿蠅谓 蟺蟻慰蟽未慰魏喂蠋谓.
危蟿慰 蠁胃喂谓蠈蟺蠅蟻慰 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼 蟿慰蠀 蔚委谓伪喂 蟺维渭蟺位慰蠀蟿慰蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蠀谓蔚喂未畏蟿慰蟺慰喂畏渭苇谓慰蟼 蟺蠅蟼 蟽蟿慰 伪蟿蔚位喂苇 蟿畏蟼 蠄蠀蠂萎蟼 蟿慰蠀 未蔚谓 蠀蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 蟺位苇慰谓 魏伪谓苇谓伪 慰蠀蟽喂蠋未蔚蟼 苇蟻纬慰 蟿苇蠂谓畏蟼.
韦慰 蟿伪尉委未喂 渭伪蟼 纬委谓蔚蟿伪喂 伪谓伪蠂蟻慰谓喂蟽蟿喂魏维 蟽蟿畏谓 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 蟿畏蟼 慰喂魏慰谓慰渭喂魏萎蟼 魏蟻委蟽畏蟼 蟿慰蠀 '30, 蟽蟿畏谓 渭蔚蟿伪蟺慰位蔚渭喂魏萎 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 蟿畏蟼 伪蟺伪尉委蠅蟽畏蟼 蟿慰蠀 '50 魏伪喂 蟽蟿畏谓 螒渭蔚蟻喂魏萎 蟿慰蠀 '80 魏伪喂 蟿畏蟼 魏位蔚渭渭苇谓畏蟼 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委伪蟼 魏伪喂 谓慰慰蟿蟻慰蟺委伪蟼.
螘委谓伪喂 渭喂伪 胃位喂尾蔚蟻萎 喂蟽蟿慰蟻委伪 渭蔚 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻.
违蟺维蟻蠂蔚喂 魏伪喂 ...芦苇谓伪蟼 蟺蠈位蔚渭慰蟼 纬喂伪 魏维胃蔚 蟺蔚位维蟿畏禄.
螢蔚魏喂谓维渭蔚 伪蟺慰 蟿畏谓 纬蔚谓慰魏蟿慰谓委伪 蟿蠅谓 螒蟻渭蔚谓委蠅谓,蟺蟻慰蠂蠅蟻维渭蔚 蟽蟿畏 蠁伪蟽喂蟽蟿喂魏萎 螜蟿伪位委伪 魏伪喂 蟿伪 伪委蟽蠂畏,蟽蠀谓蔚蠂委味慰蠀渭蔚 渭蔚 蟿慰 渭伪魏蔚位蔚喂蠈 蟿慰蠀 螔麓蟺伪纬魏慰蟽渭委慰蠀 蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 蔚尉蔚位委尉蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 渭蟺慰蟻蔚委 谓伪 蔚蟺喂蠁苇蟻蔚喂 畏 伪喂渭伪蟿慰蠂蠀蟽委伪 蟿慰蠀 蟺位伪谓萎蟿畏,伪魏慰位慰蠀胃蔚委 畏 尾伪蟻尾伪蟻蠈蟿畏蟿伪 蟿慰蠀 螤慰位苇渭慰蠀 蟿畏蟼 螝慰蟻苇伪蟼 魏伪喂 伪蟺慰 蟺委蟽蠅 蟿畏蟼 慰 螤蠈位蔚渭慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 螔喂蔚蟿谓维渭 魏伪蟿蔚尾维味蔚喂 纬喂伪 位委纬慰 蟿畏谓 伪蠀位伪委伪 蟽蟿慰 胃苇伪蟿蟻慰 蟿畏蟼 蟿蟻伪纬喂魏蠈蟿畏蟿伪蟼 蟿畏蟼 蠉蟺伪蟻尉畏蟼.
螚 蠁蟻委魏畏 纬喂伪 蟿慰谓 维纬蟻喂慰 魏伪喂 维未喂魏慰 胃维谓伪蟿慰 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏伪喂 畏 蟺伪蟻维谓慰喂伪 魏伪喂 畏 伪蠀蟿慰蠂蔚喂蟻委伪 蠅蟼 渭苇蟽蠅 位蠉蟿蟻蠅蟽畏蟼 蟽蟿喂蟼 蔚蠀伪委蟽胃畏蟿蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟺慰位蠀蟿维位伪谓蟿蔚蟼 蠄蠀蠂苇蟼, 伪谓蟿喂蟺伪蟻伪蟿委胃蔚谓蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蟿慰 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻,蟿畏谓 蔚喂蟻蠅谓委伪 魏伪喂 蟿慰谓 蔚蠉蟽蟿慰蠂慰 蟽伪蟻魏伪蟽渭蠈 蟽蔚 蠈位畏 蟿畏谓 未喂维蟻魏蔚喂伪 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 蔚尉苇位喂尉畏 蟿畏蟼 蟺位慰魏萎蟼.
螠蔚 魏慰蠉蟻伪蟽伪谓 慰喂 伪谓伪蠁慰蟻苇蟼 蟽蟿喂蟼 喂未喂蠈蟿畏蟿蔚蟼 蟿畏蟼 蟿苇蠂谓畏蟼 蠅蟼 渭苇蟽慰 蔚蟺喂魏慰喂谓蠅谓喂伪魏蠈 萎 伪蠀蟿蠈魏位畏蟿慰 魏伪喂 渭慰谓伪蠂喂魏蠈.
螖蔚谓 魏伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻伪 谓伪 魏伪蟿伪谓慰萎蟽蠅 伪谓 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 蟿蔚位喂魏维 谓伪 伪尉喂慰位慰纬蠋 蟿畏谓 蟿苇蠂谓畏 蠅蟼 伪谓蠋蟿蔚蟻畏 伪谓伪位蠈纬蠅蟼 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 蟻蔚伪位喂蟽蟿喂魏萎 萎 蟿畏谓 伪蠁畏蟻畏渭苇谓畏 渭慰蟻蠁萎 蟿畏蟼,蟽蠉渭蠁蠅谓伪 渭蔚 蟿慰谓 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪.
螠蔚 蠈蠂畏渭伪 蟿慰 渭伪蠉蟻慰 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻 魏伪喂 蟿喂蟼 伪谓胃蟻蠅蟺喂蟽蟿喂魏苇蟼 伪尉委蔚蟼 渭伪蟼 慰未畏纬蔚委 渭苇蟽伪 蟽蟿慰蠀蟼 蟺慰位苇渭慰蠀蟼,蟿畏谓 伪谓苇蠂蔚喂伪,蟿畏谓 蟺蔚蟻喂慰蟻喂蟽渭苇谓畏 蔚蠀胃蠉谓畏 蟿畏蟼 伪蠀蟿慰纬谓蠅蟽委伪蟼 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 伪尉喂慰胃伪蠉渭伪蟽蟿畏 蔚蟺喂蟻蟻慰萎 蟿畏蟼 蟿苇蠂谓畏蟼 蟽蟿畏谓 伪谓胃蟻蠋蟺喂谓畏 蠉蟺伪蟻尉畏.
螘蠀魏慰位慰未喂维尾伪蟽蟿慰 魏伪喂 渭蔚 胃位喂尾蔚蟻维 蟺喂魏蟻蠈 谓蠈畏渭伪 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 蟿慰蠉蟿慰.
螤伪蟻蠈位伪 伪蠀蟿维 未蔚谓 喂魏伪谓慰蟺慰委畏蟽蔚 蟿伪 位维纬谓伪 伪谓伪纬谓蠅蟽蟿喂魏维 渭慰蠀 苇谓蟽蟿喂魏蟿伪.
螖蔚谓 魏伪蟿维蠁蔚蟻蔚 谓伪 魏慰蟻蠀蠁蠋蟽蔚喂 蟿喂蟼 伪谓伪纬谓蠅蟽蟿喂魏苇蟼 渭慰蠀 蔚渭渭慰谓苇蟼!
螝伪位萎 伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏
螤慰位位慰蠉蟼 伪蟽蟺伪蟽渭慰蠉蟼.
June 26, 2024
芦小懈薪褟 袘芯褉芯写邪禄, 屑芯卸谢懈胁芯, 屑褨泄 褍谢褞斜谢械薪懈泄 褉芯屑邪薪 袣褍褉褌邪 袙芯薪薪械覒褍褌邪. 袟胁褨褋薪芯, 褟 褖械 薪械 锌褉芯褔懈褌邪谢邪 胁褋褨 褌械泻褋褌懈 泻谢邪褋懈泻邪, 邪谢械 胁卸械 屑芯卸褍 褋泻谢邪写邪褌懈 胁谢邪褋薪懈泄 褉械泄褌懈薪谐. 袉 芦小懈薪褟 袘芯褉芯写邪禄 胁锌械胁薪械薪芯 芯斜褨泄薪褟谢邪 锌械褉褕械 屑褨褋褑械. 效械褉械蟹 谢械谐泻褨褋褌褜 泄 写芯褌械锌薪褨褋褌褜, 褌芯屑褍, 褖芯 褑褞 泻薪懈卸泻褍 薪械 褏芯褔械褌褜褋褟 胁褨写泻谢邪写邪褌懈, 蟹 褑懈屑 褋褞卸械褌芯屑 褏芯褔械褌褜褋褟 斜褍褌懈 褖械 褨 褖械, 胁褨薪 屑邪薪懈褌褜 褨 蟹邪褌褟谐褍褦.
笑械 泻薪懈卸泻邪-邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟, 褍 褟泻褨泄 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻 袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪 褎褉邪谐屑械薪褌 蟹邪 褎褉邪谐屑械薪褌芯屑 褋泻谢邪写邪褦 锌邪蟹谢 胁谢邪褋薪芯褩 斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褩. 袙褨薪 锌懈褕械 械锌褨蟹芯写, 邪 锌芯褌褨屑 褖芯褋褜 泄芯谐芯 胁褨写胁芯谢褨泻邪褦, 邪 锌芯褌褨屑 胁褨薪 锌芯胁械褉褌邪褦褌褜褋褟 薪邪蟹邪写 写芯 芯褋薪芯胁薪芯褩 芯锌芯胁褨写褨, 邪 写邪谢褨 褟泻褨褋褜 屑褨褉泻褍胁邪薪薪褟 胁褨写褌褟谐褍褞褌褜 泄芯谐芯 褍胁邪谐褍, 邪 褖械 褉芯蟹锌芯胁褨写褨 锌褉芯 写褉褍蟹褨胁-锌懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈泻褨胁 泄 写褉褍蟹褨胁-褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻褨胁, 褌懈褏, 褏褌芯 胁锌谢懈胁邪胁 斜械蟹锌芯褋械褉械写薪褜芯 褔懈 芯锌芯褋械褉械写泻芯胁邪薪芯 薪邪 褋胁褨褌芯胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟 袪邪斜芯.
携泻芯褋褜 袪邪斜芯 蟹褍褋褌褉褨胁 薪邪 锌谢褟卸褨 卸褨薪泻褍-锌懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈褑褞 笑褨褉褑械褞, 褟泻邪 褋锌褉芯胁芯泻褍胁邪谢邪 泄芯谐芯 (邪谢械 蟹褉械褕褌芯褞 胁褨薪 蟹褨蟹薪邪褦褌褜褋褟, 褖芯 锌褉邪谐薪褍胁 褌邪泻芯褩 锌褉芯胁芯泻邪褑褨褩, 邪 褩褩 泻芯屑锌邪薪褨褟 写邪褦 泄芯屑褍 胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟 卸懈褌褌褟) 蟹邪泄薪褟褌懈褋褟 薪邪褉械褕褌褨 褔懈屑芯褋褜 泻芯褉懈褋薪懈屑鈥� 褨 薪邪锌懈褋邪褌懈 锌褉芯 褋胁芯褦 卸懈褌褌褟. 袙褨薪 胁械写械褌褜褋褟 薪邪 褑褞 锌褉芯胁芯泻邪褑褨褞 泄 泻褉芯泻 蟹邪 泻褉芯泻芯屑 薪邪屑邪谐邪褦褌褜褋褟 蟹褉芯蟹褍屑褨褌懈, 邪 褖芯 卸 蟹 薪懈屑 胁褨写斜褍胁邪谢芯褋褟 锌褉芯褌褟谐芯屑 70-褌懈 褉芯泻褨胁. 孝芯卸 褑褟 邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟 鈥� 褑械:
- 褋锌褉芯斜邪 锌芯屑褨褉泻褍胁邪褌懈 锌褉芯 斜邪褌褜泻褨胁-械屑褨覒褉邪薪褌褨胁, 褟泻褨 胁褌褨泻邪谢懈 胁褨写 谐械薪芯褑懈写褍 胁褨褉屑械薪 泄 褌邪泻 褨 薪械 褋褌邪谢懈 褋胁芯褩屑懈 胁 袗屑械褉懈褑褨;
- 屑褨褉泻褍胁邪薪薪褟 锌褉芯 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟 褋械斜械 胁褨褉屑械薪懈薪芯屑 锌芯蟹邪 斜邪褌褜泻褨胁褖懈薪芯褞 褨 屑芯胁芯褞;
- 褕谢褟褏 褏谢芯锌褔懈泻邪, 褟泻懈泄 屑褉褨褦 斜褍褌懈 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻芯屑, 写芯 胁褔懈褌械谢褟 泄 褨薪褋褌褉褍屑械薪褌褨胁, 写芯 胁懈蟹薪邪薪薪褟 泄 胁懈薪邪谐芯褉芯写懈;
- 写芯谢褟 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪-邪胁邪薪谐邪褉写懈褋褌邪, 褟泻芯谐芯 褌邪泻 褨 薪械 蟹褉芯蟹褍屑褨谢邪 胁谢邪褋薪邪 褉芯写懈薪邪, 邪谢械 褟泻芯屑褍 褏芯褌褨谢芯褋褟 斜械蟹褍锌懈薪薪芯 褌胁芯褉懈褌懈 褨 蟹薪邪褏芯写懈褌懈 褋锌芯褋芯斜懈 谐芯胁芯褉褨薪薪褟;
- 写褨屑 泻芯谢械泻褑褨芯薪械褉邪 褋褍褔邪褋薪芯谐芯 屑懈褋褌械褑褌胁邪, 褟泻懈泄 芯写薪芯芯褋褨斜薪芯 薪邪褋芯谢芯写卸褍胁邪胁褋褟 褋胁芯褩屑 斜邪谐邪褌褋褌胁芯屑, 斜芯 薪褨褏褌芯 薪械 屑褨谐 褋锌芯胁薪邪 芯褑褨薪懈褌懈 褍薪褨泻邪谢褜薪褨褋褌褜 褉芯斜褨褌 褌邪 胁懈薪褟褌泻芯胁褨褋褌褜 泻芯谢械泻褑褨褩;
- 褋褌褉邪褏 褋邪屑芯褌薪芯褋褌褨 泄 褋邪屑芯褌薪褨褋褌褜, 薪械屑芯卸谢懈胁褨褋褌褜 斜褍褌懈 蟹 褨薪褕芯褞 谢褞写懈薪芯褞 褨 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟, 褔芯屑褍 褨薪褕褨 谢褞写懈 薪械 屑芯卸褍褌褜 斜褍褌懈 蟹 褌芯斜芯褞 (薪械 谢懈褕械 褍 褕谢褞斜褨, 褏芯褔邪 褨 褌邪屑 褌械卸);
- 锌褉懈胁懈写 袛褉褍谐芯褩 褋胁褨褌芯胁芯褩, 褟泻懈泄 锌芯胁褋褟泻褔邪褋 薪邪胁懈褋邪褦 薪邪写 褌懈屑, 褏褌芯 斜邪褔懈胁 锌械褉械屑芯谐懈, 锌芯褉邪蟹泻懈 褨 锌芯谢芯薪 (蟹邪 褨薪褨褑褨邪褌懈胁芯褞 袪邪斜芯 蟹始褟胁懈胁褋褟 褑褨谢懈泄 泻邪屑褍褎谢褟卸薪懈泄 锌褨写褉芯蟹写褨谢, 斜芯 泻褉邪褖械 薪褨卸 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻懈 薪褨褏褌芯 薪械 胁锌芯褉邪褦褌褜褋褟 褨蟹 褑懈屑 蟹邪胁邪写薪薪褟屑: 芦袦懈 褌邪泻 写芯斜褉械 褉芯斜懈谢懈 泻邪屑褍褎谢褟卸, 褖芯 锌芯谢芯胁懈薪褍 褌芯谐芯, 褖芯 屑懈 褏芯胁邪谢懈 胁褨写 锌褉芯褌懈胁薪懈泻邪, 褨 写芯 褋褜芯谐芯写薪褨 褖械 薪械 蟹薪邪泄褕谢懈!禄);
- 屑芯卸谢懈胁褨褋褌褜 锌芯褋褌邪胁懈褌懈 锌懈褌邪薪薪褟 锌褉芯 褌械, 褖芯 褌邪泻械 屑懈褋褌械褑褌胁芯 褨 写芯泻懈 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻 屑芯卸械 薪邪蟹懈胁邪褌懈褋褟 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻芯屑, 褟泻褖芯 薪械 蟹邪泄屑邪褦褌褜褋褟 屑懈褋褌械褑褜泻芯褞 锌褉邪泻褌懈泻芯褞 (芦袙芯薪邪 薪褨泻芯谢懈 薪械 斜邪褔懈谢邪, 褖芯斜 褟 屑邪谢褞胁邪胁, 鈥� 斜芯 褟 谐邪写邪胁, 褖芯 胁褨写屑芯胁邪 胁褨写 屑邪谢褞胁邪薪薪褟 褨 胁褋褜芯谐芯, 褖芯 褟 蟹薪邪胁 锌褉芯 卸懈胁芯锌懈褋, 写邪褋褌褜 屑械薪褨 屑邪谐褨褔薪懈泄 泻谢褞褔, 蟹邪胁写褟泻懈 褟泻芯屑褍 褟 蟹褉芯斜谢褞褋褟 褋械褉泄芯蟹薪懈屑 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻芯屑禄).
校 谐械褉芯褟 泻邪蟹泻懈 锌褉芯 小懈薪褞 袘芯褉芯写褍 斜褍谢邪 泻褨屑薪邪褌邪 蟹 褋械泻褉械褌芯屑, 邪 褍 袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪 褋械泻褉械褌褨胁 写褍卸械 斜邪谐邪褌芯 褨 斜褨谢褜褕褨褋褌褜 蟹 薪懈褏 屑懈 褌邪泻 褨 薪械 褉芯蟹谐邪写邪褦屑芯. 效芯屑褍? 袘芯 芯锌芯胁褨写邪褔 褋邪屑 袪邪斜芯, 邪谢械 褔懈 屑芯卸械屑芯 屑懈 泄芯屑褍 写芯胁褨褉懈褌懈褋褟? 笑械 蟹芯胁褋褨屑 薪械 褋锌芯泄谢械褉, 褖芯 胁褨薪 蟹褉械褕褌芯褞 胁褨写泻褉懈褦 写谢褟 笑褨褉褑械褩 褋胁芯褞 泻邪褉褌芯锌谢褟薪褍 泻芯屑芯褉褍, 斜芯 褋锌芯泄谢械褉芯屑 斜褍谢芯 斜懈, 褟泻斜懈 褟 褉芯蟹锌芯胁褨谢邪, 褖芯 卸 褌邪屑 褍褋械褉械写懈薪褨 蟹邪 褌胁褨褉 (褑械 胁褨写泻褉懈褌褌褟 鈥� 胁懈褕械薪褜泻邪 薪邪 褌芯褉褌褨 卸懈褌褌褟 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪, 胁懈褕械薪褜泻邪, 褟泻邪 斜褍谢邪 蟹 薪懈屑 蟹邪胁卸写懈).
校 泻薪懈卸褑褨 褦 斜邪谐邪褌芯 谐邪褉薪懈褏 胁褨蟹褍邪谢褜薪懈褏 褉褨褕械薪褜, 褟泻褨 锌褉芯锌芯薪褍褞褌褜 褖械 芯写懈薪 褕邪褉 屑械褌邪褎芯褉. 袣芯谢斜邪 薪邪 芯斜泻谢邪写懈薪褑褨 薪邪锌芯胁薪械薪邪 褋懈薪褜芯褞 褎邪褉斜芯褞 (褋械泄褌褨薪-写褞褉邪-谢褞泻褋), 斜芯 芯褋褌邪薪薪褟 芦胁邪卸谢懈胁邪禄 (褨 锌褉械泻褉邪褋薪邪, 褨 谐邪薪械斜薪邪) 褉芯斜芯褌邪 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪 鈥� 芦袙褨薪写蟹芯褉褋褜泻懈泄 褋懈薪褨泄
薪芯屑械褉 褋褨屑薪邪写褑褟褌褜禄 (褑械 薪邪蟹胁邪 褎邪褉斜懈 褨 胁芯写薪芯褔邪褋 褋褍褌芯 褉芯斜芯褌懈), 斜邪薪泻懈 褋懈薪褜芯谐芯 薪褨泻芯谢懈 薪械 蟹邪胁械褉褕褍褞褌褜褋褟, 褩褏 薪邪胁褨褌褜 褍 褋邪屑褨泄 泻薪懈卸褑褨 胁写芯褋褌邪谢褜. 袗 褖械 褍 泻芯谢斜褨 蟹 芯斜泻谢邪写懈薪泻懈 斜械蟹谢褨褔 褨谐褉邪褕芯泻, 褟泻懈屑懈 斜褍谢邪 薪邪锌芯胁薪械薪邪 屑邪泄褋褌械褉薪褟 袛械薪邪 覑褉械覒芯褉褨 鈥� 褋谢邪胁械褌薪芯谐芯 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪, 薪邪 褟泻芯谐芯 胁蟹芯褉褍胁邪胁褋褟 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪, 褍 褟泻芯谐芯 胁褨薪 胁褔懈胁褋褟, 褟泻芯谐芯 胁褨薪 斜芯褟胁褋褟, 褟泻芯谐芯 胁褨薪 锌褉邪谐薪褍胁 锌械褉械胁械褉褕懈褌懈.
芦袙芯薪邪 泻邪卸械, 褖芯 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪屑 褋谢褨写 薪邪泄屑邪褌懈 锌懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈泻褨胁, 褟泻褨 胁懈谐邪写褍胁邪谢懈 斜 薪邪蟹胁懈 写谢褟 褩褏薪褨褏 泻邪褉褌懈薪. 袨褋褜 薪邪蟹胁懈 泻邪褉褌懈薪, 褖芯 胁懈褋褟褌褜 褍 屑械薪械 薪邪 褋褌褨薪邪褏: 芦袨锌褍褋 薪芯屑械褉 写械胁鈥櫻徰傃屄�, 芦小懈薪褨泄 褨 锌邪谢械薪懈泄 锌芯屑邪褉邪薪褔械胁懈泄禄 褌芯褖芯. 袦芯褦 胁谢邪褋薪械 褋谢邪胁械褌薪械 锌芯谢芯褌薪芯, 褟泻芯谐芯 斜褨谢褜褕械 薪械 褨褋薪褍褦, 屑邪谢芯 褉芯蟹屑褨褉 邪卸 褕褨褋褌写械褋褟褌 褔芯褌懈褉懈 褎褍褌懈 蟹邪胁写芯胁卸泻懈 褨 胁褨褋褨屑 褎褍褌褨胁 蟹邪胁胁懈褕泻懈 褨 锌褉懈泻褉邪褕邪谢芯 胁械褋褌懈斜褞谢褜 褕褌邪斜-泻胁邪褉褌懈褉懈 泻芯屑锌邪薪褨褩 GEFFCo 薪邪 袩邪褉泻-袗胁械薪褞, 褨 薪邪蟹懈胁邪谢芯褋褟 胁芯薪芯 锌褉芯褋褌芯 芦袙褨薪写蟹芯褉褋褜泻懈泄 褋懈薪褨泄 薪芯屑械褉 褋褨屑薪邪写褑褟褌褜禄. 袙褨薪写蟹芯褉褋褜泻懈泄 褋懈薪褨泄 鈥� 褑械 斜褍胁 胁褨写褌褨薪芯泻 褎邪褉斜懈 褋械泄褌褨薪-写褞褉邪-谢褞泻褋, 锌褉褟屑芯 蟹 斜谢褟褕邪薪泻懈.
鈥� 袧邪蟹胁懈 薪械 锌芯胁懈薪薪褨 斜褍褌懈 泻芯屑褍薪褨泻邪褌懈胁薪懈屑懈, 鈥� 褋泻邪蟹邪胁 褟.
鈥� 携泻懈泄 褋械薪褋 卸懈褌懈, 鈥� 胁褨写褉械泻谢邪 胁芯薪邪, 鈥� 褟泻褖芯 胁懈 薪械 蟹斜懈褉邪褦褌械褋褟 蟹写褨泄褋薪褞胁邪褌懈 泻芯屑褍薪褨泻邪褑褨褞?禄
笑械 泻薪懈卸泻邪-邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟, 褍 褟泻褨泄 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻 袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪 褎褉邪谐屑械薪褌 蟹邪 褎褉邪谐屑械薪褌芯屑 褋泻谢邪写邪褦 锌邪蟹谢 胁谢邪褋薪芯褩 斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褩. 袙褨薪 锌懈褕械 械锌褨蟹芯写, 邪 锌芯褌褨屑 褖芯褋褜 泄芯谐芯 胁褨写胁芯谢褨泻邪褦, 邪 锌芯褌褨屑 胁褨薪 锌芯胁械褉褌邪褦褌褜褋褟 薪邪蟹邪写 写芯 芯褋薪芯胁薪芯褩 芯锌芯胁褨写褨, 邪 写邪谢褨 褟泻褨褋褜 屑褨褉泻褍胁邪薪薪褟 胁褨写褌褟谐褍褞褌褜 泄芯谐芯 褍胁邪谐褍, 邪 褖械 褉芯蟹锌芯胁褨写褨 锌褉芯 写褉褍蟹褨胁-锌懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈泻褨胁 泄 写褉褍蟹褨胁-褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻褨胁, 褌懈褏, 褏褌芯 胁锌谢懈胁邪胁 斜械蟹锌芯褋械褉械写薪褜芯 褔懈 芯锌芯褋械褉械写泻芯胁邪薪芯 薪邪 褋胁褨褌芯胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟 袪邪斜芯.
携泻芯褋褜 袪邪斜芯 蟹褍褋褌褉褨胁 薪邪 锌谢褟卸褨 卸褨薪泻褍-锌懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈褑褞 笑褨褉褑械褞, 褟泻邪 褋锌褉芯胁芯泻褍胁邪谢邪 泄芯谐芯 (邪谢械 蟹褉械褕褌芯褞 胁褨薪 蟹褨蟹薪邪褦褌褜褋褟, 褖芯 锌褉邪谐薪褍胁 褌邪泻芯褩 锌褉芯胁芯泻邪褑褨褩, 邪 褩褩 泻芯屑锌邪薪褨褟 写邪褦 泄芯屑褍 胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟 卸懈褌褌褟) 蟹邪泄薪褟褌懈褋褟 薪邪褉械褕褌褨 褔懈屑芯褋褜 泻芯褉懈褋薪懈屑鈥� 褨 薪邪锌懈褋邪褌懈 锌褉芯 褋胁芯褦 卸懈褌褌褟. 袙褨薪 胁械写械褌褜褋褟 薪邪 褑褞 锌褉芯胁芯泻邪褑褨褞 泄 泻褉芯泻 蟹邪 泻褉芯泻芯屑 薪邪屑邪谐邪褦褌褜褋褟 蟹褉芯蟹褍屑褨褌懈, 邪 褖芯 卸 蟹 薪懈屑 胁褨写斜褍胁邪谢芯褋褟 锌褉芯褌褟谐芯屑 70-褌懈 褉芯泻褨胁. 孝芯卸 褑褟 邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟 鈥� 褑械:
- 褋锌褉芯斜邪 锌芯屑褨褉泻褍胁邪褌懈 锌褉芯 斜邪褌褜泻褨胁-械屑褨覒褉邪薪褌褨胁, 褟泻褨 胁褌褨泻邪谢懈 胁褨写 谐械薪芯褑懈写褍 胁褨褉屑械薪 泄 褌邪泻 褨 薪械 褋褌邪谢懈 褋胁芯褩屑懈 胁 袗屑械褉懈褑褨;
- 屑褨褉泻褍胁邪薪薪褟 锌褉芯 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟 褋械斜械 胁褨褉屑械薪懈薪芯屑 锌芯蟹邪 斜邪褌褜泻褨胁褖懈薪芯褞 褨 屑芯胁芯褞;
- 褕谢褟褏 褏谢芯锌褔懈泻邪, 褟泻懈泄 屑褉褨褦 斜褍褌懈 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻芯屑, 写芯 胁褔懈褌械谢褟 泄 褨薪褋褌褉褍屑械薪褌褨胁, 写芯 胁懈蟹薪邪薪薪褟 泄 胁懈薪邪谐芯褉芯写懈;
- 写芯谢褟 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪-邪胁邪薪谐邪褉写懈褋褌邪, 褟泻芯谐芯 褌邪泻 褨 薪械 蟹褉芯蟹褍屑褨谢邪 胁谢邪褋薪邪 褉芯写懈薪邪, 邪谢械 褟泻芯屑褍 褏芯褌褨谢芯褋褟 斜械蟹褍锌懈薪薪芯 褌胁芯褉懈褌懈 褨 蟹薪邪褏芯写懈褌懈 褋锌芯褋芯斜懈 谐芯胁芯褉褨薪薪褟;
- 写褨屑 泻芯谢械泻褑褨芯薪械褉邪 褋褍褔邪褋薪芯谐芯 屑懈褋褌械褑褌胁邪, 褟泻懈泄 芯写薪芯芯褋褨斜薪芯 薪邪褋芯谢芯写卸褍胁邪胁褋褟 褋胁芯褩屑 斜邪谐邪褌褋褌胁芯屑, 斜芯 薪褨褏褌芯 薪械 屑褨谐 褋锌芯胁薪邪 芯褑褨薪懈褌懈 褍薪褨泻邪谢褜薪褨褋褌褜 褉芯斜褨褌 褌邪 胁懈薪褟褌泻芯胁褨褋褌褜 泻芯谢械泻褑褨褩;
- 褋褌褉邪褏 褋邪屑芯褌薪芯褋褌褨 泄 褋邪屑芯褌薪褨褋褌褜, 薪械屑芯卸谢懈胁褨褋褌褜 斜褍褌懈 蟹 褨薪褕芯褞 谢褞写懈薪芯褞 褨 褍褋胁褨写芯屑谢械薪薪褟, 褔芯屑褍 褨薪褕褨 谢褞写懈 薪械 屑芯卸褍褌褜 斜褍褌懈 蟹 褌芯斜芯褞 (薪械 谢懈褕械 褍 褕谢褞斜褨, 褏芯褔邪 褨 褌邪屑 褌械卸);
- 锌褉懈胁懈写 袛褉褍谐芯褩 褋胁褨褌芯胁芯褩, 褟泻懈泄 锌芯胁褋褟泻褔邪褋 薪邪胁懈褋邪褦 薪邪写 褌懈屑, 褏褌芯 斜邪褔懈胁 锌械褉械屑芯谐懈, 锌芯褉邪蟹泻懈 褨 锌芯谢芯薪 (蟹邪 褨薪褨褑褨邪褌懈胁芯褞 袪邪斜芯 蟹始褟胁懈胁褋褟 褑褨谢懈泄 泻邪屑褍褎谢褟卸薪懈泄 锌褨写褉芯蟹写褨谢, 斜芯 泻褉邪褖械 薪褨卸 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻懈 薪褨褏褌芯 薪械 胁锌芯褉邪褦褌褜褋褟 褨蟹 褑懈屑 蟹邪胁邪写薪薪褟屑: 芦袦懈 褌邪泻 写芯斜褉械 褉芯斜懈谢懈 泻邪屑褍褎谢褟卸, 褖芯 锌芯谢芯胁懈薪褍 褌芯谐芯, 褖芯 屑懈 褏芯胁邪谢懈 胁褨写 锌褉芯褌懈胁薪懈泻邪, 褨 写芯 褋褜芯谐芯写薪褨 褖械 薪械 蟹薪邪泄褕谢懈!禄);
- 屑芯卸谢懈胁褨褋褌褜 锌芯褋褌邪胁懈褌懈 锌懈褌邪薪薪褟 锌褉芯 褌械, 褖芯 褌邪泻械 屑懈褋褌械褑褌胁芯 褨 写芯泻懈 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻 屑芯卸械 薪邪蟹懈胁邪褌懈褋褟 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻芯屑, 褟泻褖芯 薪械 蟹邪泄屑邪褦褌褜褋褟 屑懈褋褌械褑褜泻芯褞 锌褉邪泻褌懈泻芯褞 (芦袙芯薪邪 薪褨泻芯谢懈 薪械 斜邪褔懈谢邪, 褖芯斜 褟 屑邪谢褞胁邪胁, 鈥� 斜芯 褟 谐邪写邪胁, 褖芯 胁褨写屑芯胁邪 胁褨写 屑邪谢褞胁邪薪薪褟 褨 胁褋褜芯谐芯, 褖芯 褟 蟹薪邪胁 锌褉芯 卸懈胁芯锌懈褋, 写邪褋褌褜 屑械薪褨 屑邪谐褨褔薪懈泄 泻谢褞褔, 蟹邪胁写褟泻懈 褟泻芯屑褍 褟 蟹褉芯斜谢褞褋褟 褋械褉泄芯蟹薪懈屑 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻芯屑禄).
校 谐械褉芯褟 泻邪蟹泻懈 锌褉芯 小懈薪褞 袘芯褉芯写褍 斜褍谢邪 泻褨屑薪邪褌邪 蟹 褋械泻褉械褌芯屑, 邪 褍 袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪 褋械泻褉械褌褨胁 写褍卸械 斜邪谐邪褌芯 褨 斜褨谢褜褕褨褋褌褜 蟹 薪懈褏 屑懈 褌邪泻 褨 薪械 褉芯蟹谐邪写邪褦屑芯. 效芯屑褍? 袘芯 芯锌芯胁褨写邪褔 褋邪屑 袪邪斜芯, 邪谢械 褔懈 屑芯卸械屑芯 屑懈 泄芯屑褍 写芯胁褨褉懈褌懈褋褟? 笑械 蟹芯胁褋褨屑 薪械 褋锌芯泄谢械褉, 褖芯 胁褨薪 蟹褉械褕褌芯褞 胁褨写泻褉懈褦 写谢褟 笑褨褉褑械褩 褋胁芯褞 泻邪褉褌芯锌谢褟薪褍 泻芯屑芯褉褍, 斜芯 褋锌芯泄谢械褉芯屑 斜褍谢芯 斜懈, 褟泻斜懈 褟 褉芯蟹锌芯胁褨谢邪, 褖芯 卸 褌邪屑 褍褋械褉械写懈薪褨 蟹邪 褌胁褨褉 (褑械 胁褨写泻褉懈褌褌褟 鈥� 胁懈褕械薪褜泻邪 薪邪 褌芯褉褌褨 卸懈褌褌褟 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪, 胁懈褕械薪褜泻邪, 褟泻邪 斜褍谢邪 蟹 薪懈屑 蟹邪胁卸写懈).
校 泻薪懈卸褑褨 褦 斜邪谐邪褌芯 谐邪褉薪懈褏 胁褨蟹褍邪谢褜薪懈褏 褉褨褕械薪褜, 褟泻褨 锌褉芯锌芯薪褍褞褌褜 褖械 芯写懈薪 褕邪褉 屑械褌邪褎芯褉. 袣芯谢斜邪 薪邪 芯斜泻谢邪写懈薪褑褨 薪邪锌芯胁薪械薪邪 褋懈薪褜芯褞 褎邪褉斜芯褞 (褋械泄褌褨薪-写褞褉邪-谢褞泻褋), 斜芯 芯褋褌邪薪薪褟 芦胁邪卸谢懈胁邪禄 (褨 锌褉械泻褉邪褋薪邪, 褨 谐邪薪械斜薪邪) 褉芯斜芯褌邪 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪邪 鈥� 芦袙褨薪写蟹芯褉褋褜泻懈泄 褋懈薪褨泄
薪芯屑械褉 褋褨屑薪邪写褑褟褌褜禄 (褑械 薪邪蟹胁邪 褎邪褉斜懈 褨 胁芯写薪芯褔邪褋 褋褍褌芯 褉芯斜芯褌懈), 斜邪薪泻懈 褋懈薪褜芯谐芯 薪褨泻芯谢懈 薪械 蟹邪胁械褉褕褍褞褌褜褋褟, 褩褏 薪邪胁褨褌褜 褍 褋邪屑褨泄 泻薪懈卸褑褨 胁写芯褋褌邪谢褜. 袗 褖械 褍 泻芯谢斜褨 蟹 芯斜泻谢邪写懈薪泻懈 斜械蟹谢褨褔 褨谐褉邪褕芯泻, 褟泻懈屑懈 斜褍谢邪 薪邪锌芯胁薪械薪邪 屑邪泄褋褌械褉薪褟 袛械薪邪 覑褉械覒芯褉褨 鈥� 褋谢邪胁械褌薪芯谐芯 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪, 薪邪 褟泻芯谐芯 胁蟹芯褉褍胁邪胁褋褟 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪, 褍 褟泻芯谐芯 胁褨薪 胁褔懈胁褋褟, 褟泻芯谐芯 胁褨薪 斜芯褟胁褋褟, 褟泻芯谐芯 胁褨薪 锌褉邪谐薪褍胁 锌械褉械胁械褉褕懈褌懈.
芦袙芯薪邪 泻邪卸械, 褖芯 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻邪屑 褋谢褨写 薪邪泄屑邪褌懈 锌懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈泻褨胁, 褟泻褨 胁懈谐邪写褍胁邪谢懈 斜 薪邪蟹胁懈 写谢褟 褩褏薪褨褏 泻邪褉褌懈薪. 袨褋褜 薪邪蟹胁懈 泻邪褉褌懈薪, 褖芯 胁懈褋褟褌褜 褍 屑械薪械 薪邪 褋褌褨薪邪褏: 芦袨锌褍褋 薪芯屑械褉 写械胁鈥櫻徰傃屄�, 芦小懈薪褨泄 褨 锌邪谢械薪懈泄 锌芯屑邪褉邪薪褔械胁懈泄禄 褌芯褖芯. 袦芯褦 胁谢邪褋薪械 褋谢邪胁械褌薪械 锌芯谢芯褌薪芯, 褟泻芯谐芯 斜褨谢褜褕械 薪械 褨褋薪褍褦, 屑邪谢芯 褉芯蟹屑褨褉 邪卸 褕褨褋褌写械褋褟褌 褔芯褌懈褉懈 褎褍褌懈 蟹邪胁写芯胁卸泻懈 褨 胁褨褋褨屑 褎褍褌褨胁 蟹邪胁胁懈褕泻懈 褨 锌褉懈泻褉邪褕邪谢芯 胁械褋褌懈斜褞谢褜 褕褌邪斜-泻胁邪褉褌懈褉懈 泻芯屑锌邪薪褨褩 GEFFCo 薪邪 袩邪褉泻-袗胁械薪褞, 褨 薪邪蟹懈胁邪谢芯褋褟 胁芯薪芯 锌褉芯褋褌芯 芦袙褨薪写蟹芯褉褋褜泻懈泄 褋懈薪褨泄 薪芯屑械褉 褋褨屑薪邪写褑褟褌褜禄. 袙褨薪写蟹芯褉褋褜泻懈泄 褋懈薪褨泄 鈥� 褑械 斜褍胁 胁褨写褌褨薪芯泻 褎邪褉斜懈 褋械泄褌褨薪-写褞褉邪-谢褞泻褋, 锌褉褟屑芯 蟹 斜谢褟褕邪薪泻懈.
鈥� 袧邪蟹胁懈 薪械 锌芯胁懈薪薪褨 斜褍褌懈 泻芯屑褍薪褨泻邪褌懈胁薪懈屑懈, 鈥� 褋泻邪蟹邪胁 褟.
鈥� 携泻懈泄 褋械薪褋 卸懈褌懈, 鈥� 胁褨写褉械泻谢邪 胁芯薪邪, 鈥� 褟泻褖芯 胁懈 薪械 蟹斜懈褉邪褦褌械褋褟 蟹写褨泄褋薪褞胁邪褌懈 泻芯屑褍薪褨泻邪褑褨褞?禄
June 4, 2013
This is maybe the fourth or fifth Vonnegut book I've read, having only been introduced to him recently, sadly. I'm becoming quite a fan of his writing. What I like about him is that a lot of deep truths mask the ironic and humorous statements he makes. Definitely a must-read for those who like satire.
May 12, 2024
"鈥攕imply moderate giftedness has been made worthless by the printing press and radio and television and satellites and all that. A moderately gifted person who would have been a community treasure a thousand years ago has to give up, has to go into some other line of work, since modern communications put him or her into daily competition with nothing but the world鈥檚 champions."
Nobody could spin a story like Kurt Vonnegut. The usual鈥擥reat Depression, WWII, New York City, a father estranged from his children, an inordinate sum of money鈥攁long with a potato barn in East Hampton. And a writer of young adult fiction. And a town called San Ignacio. And an illustrator fanboying for Mussolini. And God knows how many cans of Sateen Dura-Luxe. Full of writers not writing and painters not painting. No longer will the Hamptons call to mind only Grey Gardens and . Masterful!
February 5, 2016
Kurt Vonnegut wrote so many books that sometimes a real gem gets lost in the shuffle. "Bluebeard" is just such a novel. I don't know many people who have read it, and that is simply a shame! It is a unique text (it varies greatly from the so called "Vonnegut style") and is a pretty conventional narrative that deals with many of the standard Vonnegut themes in a more easily accessible manner.
The novel is the autobiography of an artist who has become a footnote in the history of Abstract Expressionism and the mid twentieth century art movement in the United States. He is a wealthy inhabitant of the Hamptons, the child of Armenian immigrants, and a man waiting for death. His name is Rabo Karabekian. He also has a secret locked under tight security in his potato barn. Those are all the plot points you are going to get from me.
With this rather simple premise, we are given an exploration of the usual Vonnegut fare: God (and man's connection to him) war (especially WW II) man's inhumanity to man, friendship, the accidental nature of life and love, and the power of that divine in all of us...the soul. No one can bring these disparate elements together in a manner more interesting than Kurt Vonnegut, and "Bluebeard' does so in a very pleasing and rather un-ironic (for Vonnegut) way.
"Bluebeard' is written as a sort of diary, from the first person perspective of the novel's protagonist, Rabo Karabekian, and is told in the conventional linear format, with flashbacks seemingly every other paragraph. For Mr. Vonnegut, that is linear! The text has its up and downs, and the reader experiences the highs and lows of Rabo's life. There are no "spectacular" moments that pop up in the book, just life moments, some good and some bad. The book builds to a climax that is the most uplifting and life affirming that I have come across, so far, in the Vonnegut oeuvre and I was stunned and pleased by it. It was unexpected, tidy, and very appropriate.
Life is good and ill mixed together, but that does not mean that we are not supposed to enjoy it, or be dismissive of its importance. Rather, we are to be as Rabo says, "A Lazarus". We all need from time to time to be woken from the dead dreary depression of life. Vonnegut seems to be saying that if we hang on to that hope, and practice it when we can then that is enough and we should be content. I think he might just be right.
The novel is the autobiography of an artist who has become a footnote in the history of Abstract Expressionism and the mid twentieth century art movement in the United States. He is a wealthy inhabitant of the Hamptons, the child of Armenian immigrants, and a man waiting for death. His name is Rabo Karabekian. He also has a secret locked under tight security in his potato barn. Those are all the plot points you are going to get from me.
With this rather simple premise, we are given an exploration of the usual Vonnegut fare: God (and man's connection to him) war (especially WW II) man's inhumanity to man, friendship, the accidental nature of life and love, and the power of that divine in all of us...the soul. No one can bring these disparate elements together in a manner more interesting than Kurt Vonnegut, and "Bluebeard' does so in a very pleasing and rather un-ironic (for Vonnegut) way.
"Bluebeard' is written as a sort of diary, from the first person perspective of the novel's protagonist, Rabo Karabekian, and is told in the conventional linear format, with flashbacks seemingly every other paragraph. For Mr. Vonnegut, that is linear! The text has its up and downs, and the reader experiences the highs and lows of Rabo's life. There are no "spectacular" moments that pop up in the book, just life moments, some good and some bad. The book builds to a climax that is the most uplifting and life affirming that I have come across, so far, in the Vonnegut oeuvre and I was stunned and pleased by it. It was unexpected, tidy, and very appropriate.
Life is good and ill mixed together, but that does not mean that we are not supposed to enjoy it, or be dismissive of its importance. Rather, we are to be as Rabo says, "A Lazarus". We all need from time to time to be woken from the dead dreary depression of life. Vonnegut seems to be saying that if we hang on to that hope, and practice it when we can then that is enough and we should be content. I think he might just be right.
November 12, 2018
Come Dancing
By the time I reached the last chapter of this novel, I realised that Kurt Vonnegut had taken me dancing, just as Rabo Karabekian had finally taken Mrs Circe Berman dancing.
Unforgettable!
71 year old Rabo sets off to write his autobiography, but soon discovers that it has equally become a diary of the summer of its writing in his elegant mansion on Long Island (inherited from his recently deceased second wife, Edith).
Rabo started his working life as a cartoonist and illustrator, devoted much of it to Abstract Expressionism (which he tired of) and ceased painting, but for one last work which tries to fill the gap between facile populist art ("They are a negation of art! They aren't just neutral. They are black holes from which no intelligence or skill can escape. Worse than that, they suck up the dignity, the self-respect, of anybody unfortunate enough to have to look at them") and post-modernist art works which aren't supposed to mean anything, and are "about absolutely nothing but themselves."
Self-Reflexiveness
There's a nice irony about this self-reflexiveness, because it's actually a concern of the novel itself, which is much more and far greater than a run of the mill work of white American male metafiction.
Rabo the illustrator and painter was an expert, if self-trained, draughtsman ("you could really draw"), a skill he largely abandoned, when he became part of the New York Abstract Expressionist movement. His work reflected meat, but not soul, and that ultimately is the principal concern of the narrative. How can Rabo get his soul/groove (his "pure essence of human wonder") back? The answer might be in the potato barn he has used for a studio.
The Anti-Modernist Mentor
Rabo's early mentor was Dan Gregory, a highly successful master of fake or counterfeit realism (much in the style of Norman Rockwell). His obituary describes him as "possibly the best-known American artist in history."
Gregory knew he had succeeded when he learned to pass a fake bank note for a real one. Gregory makes Rabo promise to learn by heart the sentence, "The Emperor has no clothes." He regards modern art (as found in the Museum of Modern Art) as "the work of swindlers and lunatics and degenerates."
How is that for trivia?
The Kitsch Writer
Circe Berman is actually a popular author of kitsch young adult novels that are "useful, frank and intelligent, but as literature hardly more than workmanlike" (under the pseudonym, Polly Madison), who is writing a biography of her deceased husband, Abe (a brain surgeon).
Rabo talks to her about the most pleasing aspects of being an artist. She asks if it is "having my first one-man show, getting a lot of money for a picture, the comradeship with fellow painters, being praised by a critic?"
Rabo asks Mrs Berman whether, for a writer, it is "getting great reviews, or a terrific advance, or selling a book to the movies, or seeing somebody reading your book?"
The Laying on of Paint
It's interesting to contrast painting and writing.
Rabo seems to emphasise the process of painting - the laying on of paint. Mrs Berman says it's handing in a finished manuscript and never wanting to see it again.
Regrettably, too many post-modernist authors rely more heavily on critical acclaim (or the acclaim of their coterie), especially those who derive their primary income from academia (or writing courses that duplicate their own style). "Nowadays, of course, every novelty is celebrated immediately as a masterpiece!"
Vonnegut, while claimed by post-modernists as one of their own when trying to assert the importance of their movement, is more often scorned because of his popular and commercial success, i.e., for developing a large and appreciative audience beyond the coterie/ the gang.
So be it.
There Ain't Nothing You Can't Do
Earlier, an art lecturer says to Rabo:
He adds:
Rabo's last painting remedies this defect, except that we can only perceive it in words. Initially, he describes it as a "watchamacallit". But eventually he tells us it is a portrait of a happy valley and the people who have been transported there at the end of the war in Europe.
Bluebeard
The title of the novel comes from a comment by Rabo to Mrs Berman:
But that's not where the novel ends.
Goodbye. It's your turn now.
SOUNDTRACK:
By the time I reached the last chapter of this novel, I realised that Kurt Vonnegut had taken me dancing, just as Rabo Karabekian had finally taken Mrs Circe Berman dancing.
Unforgettable!
71 year old Rabo sets off to write his autobiography, but soon discovers that it has equally become a diary of the summer of its writing in his elegant mansion on Long Island (inherited from his recently deceased second wife, Edith).
Rabo started his working life as a cartoonist and illustrator, devoted much of it to Abstract Expressionism (which he tired of) and ceased painting, but for one last work which tries to fill the gap between facile populist art ("They are a negation of art! They aren't just neutral. They are black holes from which no intelligence or skill can escape. Worse than that, they suck up the dignity, the self-respect, of anybody unfortunate enough to have to look at them") and post-modernist art works which aren't supposed to mean anything, and are "about absolutely nothing but themselves."
Self-Reflexiveness
There's a nice irony about this self-reflexiveness, because it's actually a concern of the novel itself, which is much more and far greater than a run of the mill work of white American male metafiction.
Rabo the illustrator and painter was an expert, if self-trained, draughtsman ("you could really draw"), a skill he largely abandoned, when he became part of the New York Abstract Expressionist movement. His work reflected meat, but not soul, and that ultimately is the principal concern of the narrative. How can Rabo get his soul/groove (his "pure essence of human wonder") back? The answer might be in the potato barn he has used for a studio.
The Anti-Modernist Mentor
Rabo's early mentor was Dan Gregory, a highly successful master of fake or counterfeit realism (much in the style of Norman Rockwell). His obituary describes him as "possibly the best-known American artist in history."
Gregory knew he had succeeded when he learned to pass a fake bank note for a real one. Gregory makes Rabo promise to learn by heart the sentence, "The Emperor has no clothes." He regards modern art (as found in the Museum of Modern Art) as "the work of swindlers and lunatics and degenerates."
How is that for trivia?
The Kitsch Writer
Circe Berman is actually a popular author of kitsch young adult novels that are "useful, frank and intelligent, but as literature hardly more than workmanlike" (under the pseudonym, Polly Madison), who is writing a biography of her deceased husband, Abe (a brain surgeon).
Rabo talks to her about the most pleasing aspects of being an artist. She asks if it is "having my first one-man show, getting a lot of money for a picture, the comradeship with fellow painters, being praised by a critic?"
Rabo asks Mrs Berman whether, for a writer, it is "getting great reviews, or a terrific advance, or selling a book to the movies, or seeing somebody reading your book?"
The Laying on of Paint
It's interesting to contrast painting and writing.
Rabo seems to emphasise the process of painting - the laying on of paint. Mrs Berman says it's handing in a finished manuscript and never wanting to see it again.
Regrettably, too many post-modernist authors rely more heavily on critical acclaim (or the acclaim of their coterie), especially those who derive their primary income from academia (or writing courses that duplicate their own style). "Nowadays, of course, every novelty is celebrated immediately as a masterpiece!"
Vonnegut, while claimed by post-modernists as one of their own when trying to assert the importance of their movement, is more often scorned because of his popular and commercial success, i.e., for developing a large and appreciative audience beyond the coterie/ the gang.
So be it.
There Ain't Nothing You Can't Do
Earlier, an art lecturer says to Rabo:
"Technically speaking, there's nothing you can't do...I think - I think - it is somehow very useful, and maybe even essential, for a fine artist to have to somehow make his peace on the canvas with all the things he cannot do. That is what attracts us to serious paintings, I think: that shortfall, which we might call 'personality,' or maybe even 'pain'."
He adds:
"[The very first picture in your portfolio] told me, 'Here is a man without passion.' And I asked myself what I now ask you: 'Why should I teach him the language of painting, since there seems to be absolutely nothing which he is desperate to talk about?' "
Rabo's last painting remedies this defect, except that we can only perceive it in words. Initially, he describes it as a "watchamacallit". But eventually he tells us it is a portrait of a happy valley and the people who have been transported there at the end of the war in Europe.
Bluebeard
The title of the novel comes from a comment by Rabo to Mrs Berman:
"I am Bluebeard, and my studio is my forbidden chamber as far as you're concerned."
But that's not where the novel ends.
Goodbye. It's your turn now.
SOUNDTRACK:
November 5, 2019
Rabo Karabekian was the artist in the art exhibit in Midland City, Ohio that caused so many people to dislike art in Vonnegut鈥檚 1973 novel .
An abstract expressionist, he had sold to the art festival a huge painting that was a green canvas with a piece of orange tape vertically affixed to it. For this he had been paid thousands of dollars. The local economy was struggling at the time and many non-artists resented him and his high falooting ways. (He was something of a snooty ass).
But when a cocktail waitress confronted him for his arrogance and the apparent fraud he had committed by selling the meaningless painting, he stole the show in one of the finest scenes from that novel by explaining that he had demonstrated in minimalist fashion the ascendancy of a soul reaching for heaven.
Fourteen years later, Kurt Vonnegut returns to Rabo for what is ostensibly an autobiography of the aging artist but what is of course another witty and cynical book by one of America鈥檚 greatest novelists.
Rabo describes his life as an Armenian American, whose parents had escaped the Turkish genocide of their people only to be swindled by another Armenian on their way to California. From these humble beginnings we follow Rabo to New York where he is an apprentice to a famous illustrator to World War II and beyond to his fleeting success as an artist.
Here鈥檚 the thing:
The paint he used on all of his abstract expressionist paintings was defective and fell apart by and by.
So we follow Kurt Vonnegut on another journey, this time exploring art, and humanity, and love, and insanity, and war and capitalism and culture.
And like the scene from Breakfast of Champions, we learn that there is more to Rabo Karabekian, like most of us, than meets the eye.
An abstract expressionist, he had sold to the art festival a huge painting that was a green canvas with a piece of orange tape vertically affixed to it. For this he had been paid thousands of dollars. The local economy was struggling at the time and many non-artists resented him and his high falooting ways. (He was something of a snooty ass).
But when a cocktail waitress confronted him for his arrogance and the apparent fraud he had committed by selling the meaningless painting, he stole the show in one of the finest scenes from that novel by explaining that he had demonstrated in minimalist fashion the ascendancy of a soul reaching for heaven.
Fourteen years later, Kurt Vonnegut returns to Rabo for what is ostensibly an autobiography of the aging artist but what is of course another witty and cynical book by one of America鈥檚 greatest novelists.
Rabo describes his life as an Armenian American, whose parents had escaped the Turkish genocide of their people only to be swindled by another Armenian on their way to California. From these humble beginnings we follow Rabo to New York where he is an apprentice to a famous illustrator to World War II and beyond to his fleeting success as an artist.
Here鈥檚 the thing:
The paint he used on all of his abstract expressionist paintings was defective and fell apart by and by.
So we follow Kurt Vonnegut on another journey, this time exploring art, and humanity, and love, and insanity, and war and capitalism and culture.
And like the scene from Breakfast of Champions, we learn that there is more to Rabo Karabekian, like most of us, than meets the eye.
May 16, 2021
I have read several Kurt Vonnegut books and this one is excellent. I enjoyed this one because the tone felt different in comparison his other works. This book was not necessarily positive or upbeat, but was optimistic. Feelings of sentiment, reflection, and loneliness were rich in the story.
The story told by main character, Rabo Karabekian, who is an artist writing his autobiography. I felt Rabo was cleansing and purging his past emotional pains and experiences through art: in both painting and writing.
I thought the overarching theme was perseverance: surviving the Armenian Genocide, being resilient and overcoming, facing forward and having courage in war, and enduring as an apprentice only to become an "just an artist". The final painting in the barn muraled pain, death & suffering, and survival all on one canvas.
I really liked this one because it was sentimental. I would recommend this one in addition to 'Slaughterhouse-Five', 'Mother Night', and 'Player Piano' if you are new to Kurt Vonnegut. Thanks!
"You don't write for the whole world, and you don't write for ten people, or two. You write for just one person."
The story told by main character, Rabo Karabekian, who is an artist writing his autobiography. I felt Rabo was cleansing and purging his past emotional pains and experiences through art: in both painting and writing.
I thought the overarching theme was perseverance: surviving the Armenian Genocide, being resilient and overcoming, facing forward and having courage in war, and enduring as an apprentice only to become an "just an artist". The final painting in the barn muraled pain, death & suffering, and survival all on one canvas.
I really liked this one because it was sentimental. I would recommend this one in addition to 'Slaughterhouse-Five', 'Mother Night', and 'Player Piano' if you are new to Kurt Vonnegut. Thanks!
"You don't write for the whole world, and you don't write for ten people, or two. You write for just one person."
January 16, 2008
Wow. This was a novel that's going to keep me thinking for a long, long time. It was everything jam packed into a small little book: clever, tragic, engrossing, laugh out loud funny, imaginative, unexpected, and even transformative, I think. There are so many layers to this book I'm sure I'll be thinking about it off and on for the next several months at least and will almost definitely re-read this book a number of times before I reach room temperature.
Check it out: The protagonist/autobiographer is a veteran who lost an eye in WWII who later becomes one of the biggest jokes of the Abstract Expressionist art movement because all of his art disintegrates due to a poor choice of paint. He started life as an illustrator who couldn't make it as a 'real' artist because his paintings lacked depth and vision. And then he goes off to WWII and LITERALLY LOSES HIS SENSE OF DEPTH by having one of his eyes shot out. Ironically, I think it's this literal and figurative lack of depth perception that enables him to survive and not commit suicide while all of his other artist friends don't. There is more to this thing about eyes and perception, too. When both his father and some other artists are at their most creative, their eyes become dead. Half of this guy's eyes are already dead, so he's not able to see what they're seeing, so he can't be harmed/driven to suicide by it. It's only at the very end of the book, perhaps when he's finally old/strong/mature/stable enough to cope with everything he's seen is he really able to paint something that combines the objective reality of illustration and the visceral experience of abstract expressionism. This shit was some mind-freeing stuff for me. Reading it right now for some reason.
And then there's the whole thing about forbidden rooms and curiosity...the name of the book itself, and whatever it is that the guy has locked away in the potato barn. Both the original Bluebeard story and Vonnegut's have curious, prying women, too.
But the thing that's occupying my mind about the book right now is endings. In one part of the book, a female character talks about how Ibsen's The Doll House ended the wrong way. The Doll House's female lead leaves the house and everyone's left to assume she goes to Happily Ever After. But the woman in Bluebeard believes she throws herself in front of a train. Mostly because there really was no Happily Ever After for women at that time. Only more doll houses. I read that and I'm, like, "Yeah, life is harsh and it's crappy to have books end happily. Good books gotta end sad." So then this book goes and ends on a positive note. At first I was pretty bummed that everything works out in the end. But then I thought, "It's only ME who tacks on the 'Happily Ever After' part. Even though he has started the process of healing, this guy has a whole long row to hoe that is not going to be happy, pretty or any other easy positive word." In the same way that Vonnegut's character has finally found a way to combine literal but soulless illustration with abstract expressionism, maybe I'm getting closer to being able to see 'happily ever after,' and 'life is still super hard' as two sides of the same simultaneously experienced reality.
I have been going on like this in my head since I finished this book 24 hours ago and things just seem to be speeding up, as far as I can tell. The sign of a great book, in my book.
Check it out: The protagonist/autobiographer is a veteran who lost an eye in WWII who later becomes one of the biggest jokes of the Abstract Expressionist art movement because all of his art disintegrates due to a poor choice of paint. He started life as an illustrator who couldn't make it as a 'real' artist because his paintings lacked depth and vision. And then he goes off to WWII and LITERALLY LOSES HIS SENSE OF DEPTH by having one of his eyes shot out. Ironically, I think it's this literal and figurative lack of depth perception that enables him to survive and not commit suicide while all of his other artist friends don't. There is more to this thing about eyes and perception, too. When both his father and some other artists are at their most creative, their eyes become dead. Half of this guy's eyes are already dead, so he's not able to see what they're seeing, so he can't be harmed/driven to suicide by it. It's only at the very end of the book, perhaps when he's finally old/strong/mature/stable enough to cope with everything he's seen is he really able to paint something that combines the objective reality of illustration and the visceral experience of abstract expressionism. This shit was some mind-freeing stuff for me. Reading it right now for some reason.
And then there's the whole thing about forbidden rooms and curiosity...the name of the book itself, and whatever it is that the guy has locked away in the potato barn. Both the original Bluebeard story and Vonnegut's have curious, prying women, too.
But the thing that's occupying my mind about the book right now is endings. In one part of the book, a female character talks about how Ibsen's The Doll House ended the wrong way. The Doll House's female lead leaves the house and everyone's left to assume she goes to Happily Ever After. But the woman in Bluebeard believes she throws herself in front of a train. Mostly because there really was no Happily Ever After for women at that time. Only more doll houses. I read that and I'm, like, "Yeah, life is harsh and it's crappy to have books end happily. Good books gotta end sad." So then this book goes and ends on a positive note. At first I was pretty bummed that everything works out in the end. But then I thought, "It's only ME who tacks on the 'Happily Ever After' part. Even though he has started the process of healing, this guy has a whole long row to hoe that is not going to be happy, pretty or any other easy positive word." In the same way that Vonnegut's character has finally found a way to combine literal but soulless illustration with abstract expressionism, maybe I'm getting closer to being able to see 'happily ever after,' and 'life is still super hard' as two sides of the same simultaneously experienced reality.
I have been going on like this in my head since I finished this book 24 hours ago and things just seem to be speeding up, as far as I can tell. The sign of a great book, in my book.
April 21, 2017
This was a lovely reintroduction to Vonnegut after a nearly eight year hiatus. I remember loving his style and staccato rhythm of his prose. Slaughterhouse-Five remains one of my favourite novels and was one of the first that made me think science fiction could be much more than explosions and cool scenes. Bluebeard, by contrast, is an entirely realist novel about the abstract expressionist art movement.
Although it's only a little bit about that too.
What it's really about is Rabo Karabekian, ageing hermit, art collector, and life-regretter with a secret something in his potato barn. His hermitage is interrupted by Circe Berman, a writer of what sure sounds like YA novels, who endeavours to change his life, much to his chagrin. The novel involves many other characters who would be poorly introduced by myself in comparison to their richness as presented by Vonnegut. All the characters here are wonderfully realized and I was sad to see them go by novel's end.
I love how Vonnegut is able to tie tethers through time to connect a character's past to their actions throughout their lives without shoving it down the reader's throat. If Rabo is suffering, he does so without expending page upon page in melancholy and it's to Vonnegut's credit that he makes the reader feel it in a sentence or two. The novel is structured as Rabo's memoirs, but plays loosely with linearity in a way that felt more playful than willfully experimental. In fact, it's a trait I remember loving from my earlier readings of Vonnegut.
I'm not sure if this is a well-known Vonnegut novel, but I was pleasantly surprised when it was chosen as our latest book club read. It was compelling, hilarious, heartfelt, and manages to be an uplifting story despite having some portions which seem like they would be highly unpleasant to have lived. I was touched by many scenes and inexplicably astounded by the reveal in the potato barn even though it is no immense twist. Bluebeard was a surprise and managed to slowly creep up on me with its charm. This one is definitely worth a read and has helped to rekindle my love for Vonnegut.
Although it's only a little bit about that too.
What it's really about is Rabo Karabekian, ageing hermit, art collector, and life-regretter with a secret something in his potato barn. His hermitage is interrupted by Circe Berman, a writer of what sure sounds like YA novels, who endeavours to change his life, much to his chagrin. The novel involves many other characters who would be poorly introduced by myself in comparison to their richness as presented by Vonnegut. All the characters here are wonderfully realized and I was sad to see them go by novel's end.
I love how Vonnegut is able to tie tethers through time to connect a character's past to their actions throughout their lives without shoving it down the reader's throat. If Rabo is suffering, he does so without expending page upon page in melancholy and it's to Vonnegut's credit that he makes the reader feel it in a sentence or two. The novel is structured as Rabo's memoirs, but plays loosely with linearity in a way that felt more playful than willfully experimental. In fact, it's a trait I remember loving from my earlier readings of Vonnegut.
I'm not sure if this is a well-known Vonnegut novel, but I was pleasantly surprised when it was chosen as our latest book club read. It was compelling, hilarious, heartfelt, and manages to be an uplifting story despite having some portions which seem like they would be highly unpleasant to have lived. I was touched by many scenes and inexplicably astounded by the reveal in the potato barn even though it is no immense twist. Bluebeard was a surprise and managed to slowly creep up on me with its charm. This one is definitely worth a read and has helped to rekindle my love for Vonnegut.
May 17, 2024
I'd call this Vonnegut's sweetest novel, but then again I'm a big ol' softie.
5 stars. He's made similar points before but this one ends up achingly tender. Really shows Vonnegut's range and skill, plucking heartstrings so forcefully with so few words.
5 stars. He's made similar points before but this one ends up achingly tender. Really shows Vonnegut's range and skill, plucking heartstrings so forcefully with so few words.
January 31, 2024
Daily Vonnegut 鈥� Day 10.
Again, not much to say here. I have aged almost as much as Rabo Karabekian, the Armenian-American artist that is the narrator of Bluebeard. I don鈥檛 regret anything in this journey so far, because it feels good to do completionist adventures, no matter how you come to think of the material in the end.
This one is cute and slightly haunting, as the focus of our theme shifts to looking back on a life. The reason it鈥檚 more pressing now is because it comes at a time where the reflections in the book closely resemble those of Vonnegut鈥檚 actual life. I know for a fact that Hocus Pocus and Timequake, his final two novels, will be similar in theme. What else could they be?
How much is hidden in Karabekian鈥檚 implicit plea to be liked and remembered by the masses? Well, not much. Nothing is hidden. It鈥檚 all right there. I think Vonnegut鈥檚 stature speaks for itself.
Again, not much to say here. I have aged almost as much as Rabo Karabekian, the Armenian-American artist that is the narrator of Bluebeard. I don鈥檛 regret anything in this journey so far, because it feels good to do completionist adventures, no matter how you come to think of the material in the end.
This one is cute and slightly haunting, as the focus of our theme shifts to looking back on a life. The reason it鈥檚 more pressing now is because it comes at a time where the reflections in the book closely resemble those of Vonnegut鈥檚 actual life. I know for a fact that Hocus Pocus and Timequake, his final two novels, will be similar in theme. What else could they be?
How much is hidden in Karabekian鈥檚 implicit plea to be liked and remembered by the masses? Well, not much. Nothing is hidden. It鈥檚 all right there. I think Vonnegut鈥檚 stature speaks for itself.
February 3, 2023
Not his best. Actually, maybe his worst.
After reading many of Vonnegut's books, some elements begin to get tiresome, like a (fairy) tale told several times with little variations. Casual encounters, big fortunes, and so on. But there are too many bizarre coincidences in this one. War is bad, capitalism too, money is great though, and so on and so forth. Can't reach the level of Gal谩pagos, etc. Felt a bit too Anglo-Saxon mainstream on some occasions, despite being so full of insights into American society, as valid then as now. The dialogues are bland, sometimes awful, and the last fifth of the novel offers a sickening sweet-sentimental plot, not to call it kitsch as hell.
Still, there are some bright moments, and Vonnegut makes always for an entertaining read.
After reading many of Vonnegut's books, some elements begin to get tiresome, like a (fairy) tale told several times with little variations. Casual encounters, big fortunes, and so on. But there are too many bizarre coincidences in this one. War is bad, capitalism too, money is great though, and so on and so forth. Can't reach the level of Gal谩pagos, etc. Felt a bit too Anglo-Saxon mainstream on some occasions, despite being so full of insights into American society, as valid then as now. The dialogues are bland, sometimes awful, and the last fifth of the novel offers a sickening sweet-sentimental plot, not to call it kitsch as hell.
Still, there are some bright moments, and Vonnegut makes always for an entertaining read.
May 23, 2019
Vonnegut's 1987 indictment of the fickle subjectivism surrounding the art and artists of the post-war era. Vonnegut candles the egg, if you will, of expressionism and throws a little light on the lunacy that often surrounds 'modern art.'
This novel, like every Vonnegut novel I've ever read, is tragic - but it has that patented KV infusion of humor and that familiar air of decency and humanity that makes it oh so enjoyable to read.
This novel, like every Vonnegut novel I've ever read, is tragic - but it has that patented KV infusion of humor and that familiar air of decency and humanity that makes it oh so enjoyable to read.
September 29, 2018
螤苇渭蟺蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 蟿慰蠀 螝蔚蟻蟿 螔蠈谓蔚纬魏伪蟿 蟺慰蠀 未喂伪尾维味蠅, 伪位位维 蟿蠈蟽伪 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪 蟺慰蠀 蟺苇蟻伪蟽伪谓 伪蟺蠈 蟿畏谓 蟿蔚位蔚蠀蟿伪委伪 蠁慰蟻维 蟺慰蠀 未喂维尾伪蟽伪 尾喂尾位委慰 蟿慰蠀 (螠维喂慰蟼 蟿慰蠀 2011), 蔚委谓伪喂 蟽伪谓 谓伪 蟿慰谓 纬谓蠅蟻委味蠅 纬喂伪 蟺蟻蠋蟿畏 蠁慰蟻维. 螘喂位喂魏蟻喂谓维 未蔚谓 尉苇蟻蠅 纬喂伪蟿委 伪蟺蔚委蠂伪 蟿蠈蟽伪 蟺慰位位维 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪 伪蟺蠈 蟿伪 尾喂尾位委伪 蟿慰蠀, 蔚谓蠋 蟿伪 蟺蟻慰畏纬慰蠉渭蔚谓伪 位委纬慰 苇蠅蟼 蟺慰位蠉 渭蔚 蔚委蠂伪谓 尉蔚蟿蟻蔚位维谓蔚喂 (蔚魏蟿蠈蟼, 委蟽蠅蟼, 伪蟺蠈 蟿慰 "危位维蟺蟽蟿喂魏", 蟺慰蠀 胃蠀渭维渭伪喂 蠈蟿喂 渭慰蠀 蔚委蠂蔚 蠁伪谓蔚委 魏维蟺蠅蟼 伪未蠉谓伪渭慰).锘� 螤蟻蠈魏蔚喂蟿伪喂 纬喂伪 苇谓伪 喂未喂伪委蟿蔚蟻慰 魏伪喂 蟽蠂蔚蟿喂魏维 喂未喂蠈蟻蟻蠀胃渭慰 尾喂尾位委慰, 渭喂伪 渭委尉畏 伪蠀蟿慰尾喂慰纬蟻伪蠁委伪蟼 魏伪喂 畏渭蔚蟻慰位慰纬委慰蠀, 蟿慰 慰蟺慰委慰 蔚谓 蟺慰位位慰委蟼 渭喂位维蔚喂 纬喂伪 蟿畏谓 韦苇蠂谓畏, 蟿畏谓 魏伪位位喂蟿蔚蠂谓喂魏萎 蠁蠉蟽畏, 蟿慰谓 蟺蠈位蔚渭慰 魏伪喂 蟿畏谓 伪蠀蟿慰纬谓蠅蟽委伪, 渭蔚 蠉蠁慰蟼 苇谓蟿慰谓伪 蟽伪蟻魏伪蟽蟿喂魏蠈 魏伪喂 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 魏蠀谓喂魏蠈. 螚 纬蟻伪蠁萎 蔚委谓伪喂 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏维 蔚尉伪委蟽喂伪, 蟻苇蔚喂 蟽伪谓 纬维蟻纬伪蟻慰 谓蔚蟻蠈, 渭蠈谓慰 伪蠀蟿萎 伪蟻魏蔚委 纬喂伪 谓伪 位伪蟿蟻苇蠄蔚喂 魏伪谓蔚委蟼 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰, 伪谓蔚尉维蟻蟿畏蟿伪 伪谓 尾蟻蔚喂 蟿慰蠀 纬慰蠉蟽蟿慰蠀 蟿畏谓 蟺位慰魏萎 萎 蟿慰蠀蟼 蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿萎蟻蔚蟼. 螚 蟺位慰魏萎 未蔚谓 位苇蔚喂 魏伪喂 蟺慰位位维 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪 蔚未蠋 蟺慰蠀 蟿伪 位苇渭蔚, 伪位位维 蠁蠀蟽喂魏维 苇谓伪 蟿苇蟿慰喂慰 尾喂尾位委慰 未蔚谓 蠂蟻蔚喂维味蔚蟿伪喂 魏伪渭委伪 蟺位慰魏萎 纬喂伪 谓伪 魏伪蟿伪蟺位萎尉蔚喂 渭蔚 胃蔚蟿喂魏蠈 蟿蟻蠈蟺慰 蟿慰蠀蟼 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿蔚蟼. 螤蔚蟻谓维蔚喂 渭畏谓蠉渭伪蟿伪, 蟺蟻慰蟽蠁苇蟻蔚喂 蔚喂魏蠈谓蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃萎渭伪蟿伪 蠂维蟻畏 蟽蟿畏谓 蠁慰尾蔚蟻萎 纬蟻伪蠁萎, 慰喂 蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿萎蟻蔚蟼 苇蠂慰蠀谓 魏伪喂 伪蠀蟿慰委 蟿慰 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰谓 蟿慰蠀蟼 蠈谓蟿伪蟼 魏维蟺蠅蟼 喂未喂蠈蟻蟻蠀胃渭慰喂, 慰蟺蠈蟿蔚 蠀蟺慰胃苇蟿蠅 蠈蟿喂 伪蠀蟿维 伪蟻魏慰蠉谓 纬喂伪 谓伪 伪纬伪蟺萎蟽蔚喂 魏伪谓蔚委蟼 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰. 螝伪喂, 蔚谓蟿维尉蔚喂, 渭喂位维渭蔚 纬喂伪 尾喂尾位委慰 蟿慰蠀 螔蠈谓蔚纬魏伪蟿, 慰蟺蠈蟿蔚 未蠉蟽魏慰位伪 未蔚谓 胃伪 渭蔚委谓蔚喂 魏维蟿喂 蟽蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 渭蔚蟿维 蟿慰 蟿苇位慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 伪谓维纬谓蠅蟽畏蟼.
April 30, 2025
I got addicted to Vonnegut at university. I was probably insufferable; I even had a t-shirt with the gravestone from Slaughterhouse-5 and the massive letters EVERYTHING WAS BEAUTIFUL AND NOTHING HURT emblazed on it. Like Hemingway, I read too much too quickly.
So this is my 8th or 9th Vonnegut novel, but my first in a good few years. In a way, I'm disappointed. I've been reading it on and off for weeks. Though I certainly enjoyed elements of it, I didn't find myself looking forward to picking it up. I didn't feel like digging that old t-shirt out either. But what this novel has in absolute abundance, the very thing I was looking for, ironically, is heart. I've talked a lot with numerous people about sincerity recently. Namely Alan, a colleague of mine, too. We realised, Alan and I particularly, that we are sick to death of ironic, sly postmodern schmucks (Vonnegut is a postmodernist! I hear you say and Yes, yes, I say); we realised a novel meant nothing to us if it had no sincerity and no heart. The problem is, a novel with heart is usually kitsch. I'd even call Vonnegut kitsch, but he's kitsch with style. Deliberate kitsch? I don't know. Either way, it's got heart, and the ending did give me a (remote) fuzzy feeling in my tummy.
So this is my 8th or 9th Vonnegut novel, but my first in a good few years. In a way, I'm disappointed. I've been reading it on and off for weeks. Though I certainly enjoyed elements of it, I didn't find myself looking forward to picking it up. I didn't feel like digging that old t-shirt out either. But what this novel has in absolute abundance, the very thing I was looking for, ironically, is heart. I've talked a lot with numerous people about sincerity recently. Namely Alan, a colleague of mine, too. We realised, Alan and I particularly, that we are sick to death of ironic, sly postmodern schmucks (Vonnegut is a postmodernist! I hear you say and Yes, yes, I say); we realised a novel meant nothing to us if it had no sincerity and no heart. The problem is, a novel with heart is usually kitsch. I'd even call Vonnegut kitsch, but he's kitsch with style. Deliberate kitsch? I don't know. Either way, it's got heart, and the ending did give me a (remote) fuzzy feeling in my tummy.
August 28, 2011
I read Vonnegut now. Vonnegut is cool.
I have vague memories of reading Vonnegut before鈥擨 have some very old, very pulp editions of some of his other novels that I 鈥� er 鈥� 鈥渓iberated鈥� from my father. I swear I鈥檝e read Breakfast of Champions before, and I鈥檓 pretty sure I read either Cat鈥檚 Cradle or Player Piano at my sister鈥檚 wedding. I remember this because I was only 15, but the server still offered me wine (I declined). Suffice it to say, although Vonnegut is associated with some interesting memories, this is really the first of his novels that I have read as an adult, and the first one I remember well enough to review.
Bluebeard is easy to read and, therefore, easy to dismiss. Thanks to the conversational first person narration and the consistent switching between Rabo鈥檚 reminiscences and the present day at his home in the Hamptons, Bluebeard feels like a light novel. Yet this is also a story about genocide survivors, abusive relationships, the horror of war, and the horror of mediocrity. This book is an excellent example of how levity can be just as good at delivering a polemic against war as more gritty, realistic depictions like you might find in or in Hollywood movies.
Vonnegut has some choice words for the way movies, in general, portray war. His narrator, Rabo Karabekian, points out that most of the veterans in those movies are the age he was when he returned home, and not the young striplings whose lives are shattered on the front. In general, as one familiar with Vonnegut might expect, utter disdain for war and for the glorification of war pervades Bluebeard, almost dripping off the pages. What makes the book so impressive鈥攁nd so successful鈥攊s how Vonnegut manages to do this in such a pithy way:
Coming from a country whose armed forces are routinely ridiculed for their perceived lack of personnel or equipment, I totally can, Rabo. I love this passage so much, because it demonstrates the irony of contemporary ideas of American patriotism鈥攆ailing to support the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan somehow makes one 鈥渦n-American鈥�, or at the very least constitutes a 鈥渟uspicious鈥� action, a black mark on one鈥檚 patriotism. Vonnegut, the Vietnam War no doubt weighing heavily in his mind as he wrote this, wanted to remind us that the militaristic mindset that accompanied the United States鈥� rise as a twentieth-century superpower was not always the status quo.
Rabo Karabekian is an awesome narrator in general, because he does not bullshit. He strikes me as a man who knows exactly who he is, who is comfortable with his place in the world, who accepts his flaws and failures and position of mediocrity. In the end, he is as divested of illusions as it is possible for a human to be. This is an incredibly refreshing type of narrator to have. Rabo doesn鈥檛 ask for forgiveness and doesn鈥檛 offer up excuses (beyond joining us in shaking our heads at his youthful na茂vety). He is self-deprecating, but he does not wallow in self-pity. He has been through war. He married, divorced, married again, and survived his second wife. He is American in citizenship and, mostly, in sentiment, yet he has taken up the flag of his father to carry on their cultural heritage as Armenians鈥攈e leaves all his property and wealth to his estranged sons, on the condition that they legally change their names and those of his grandchildren back to 鈥淜arabekian锟斤拷锟�.
So Rabo is complex yet comfortable, and he is definitely the heart of this story. That might seem obvious given that Bluebeard is a fictional autobiography, but I would argue that there鈥檚 a difference between being the main character in one鈥檚 story and being its heart. In the end, despite invoking a number of famous people (both real and fictional), the story and its lessons are about and for Rabo Karabekian. A different Rabo, one less sympathetic or more clever, would still be the main character of his own life, but would he make the book enjoyable? Would he be able to pull off the levity that allows Vonnegut to juxtapose war with abstract art? I鈥檓 not sure, but I鈥檓 glad I don麓t have to find out!
Rabo owes this state of grace in part to his artistic struggles and the conflict between his technical mastery and his stillborn passion. He also owes it, however, to the effects of Circe Berman, a widow who shows up on his private beach, invites herself to stay at his place, and slowly transforms his home and his life. Overbearing and irksome, Circe is nevertheless a positive influence on Rabo. I say this knowing full well that if some woman redirected my foyer without my permission, I, being the incorrigible 21-year-old that I am, would probably not handle it as well as Rabo does, all things considered! :D The interaction between Rabo and Circe is by far one of the best aspects of Bluebeard, because it is rife both with real tension and with real respect between the two parties. This is evident in how Rabo decides to reveal the contents of his potato barn to Circe.
At one point, Rabo has a very frank conversation with his cook and her daughter, Celeste, in which we learn that despite employing her for years, Rabo has never remembered his cook鈥檚 name (it鈥檚 Allison, Allison White). Indeed, when Rabo kicks out Circe, Allison gives notice, stating that she can鈥檛 stand working for him any more without Circe around to improve the atmosphere of the house. It鈥檚 not that Rabo is a bad person, but he has fallen out of practice interacting with people as human beings, and Allison accuses him of being 鈥渟cared to death of women鈥�. Rabo鈥檚 relationships with women throughout Bluebeard are certainly interesting and rocky. As an adolescent, he forms an attachment to Marilee Kemp, who is eleven years his senior and takes on the role of guardian angel/patron saint, ultimately bringing Rabo to New York to apprentice to Dan Gregory. Rabo eventually loses his virginity to Marilee and then foolishly takes her 鈥測ou have to leave now鈥� speech at face value, always thinking of her for years but never trying to win her back.
When next they meet, she upbraids him thoroughly for this, and through her Vonnegut has some harsh words to deliver about war and women:
The 鈥渃ondition鈥� to which Marilee refers is the situation of being desperate for food and protection for themselves and their children. Viewed in this way, war is a mechanism for the oppression of women. The reward for participating in this oppression is glory and power, which is exactly what is promised for participating in colonialism/imperialism as well:
It鈥檚 all very tongue-in-cheek, but there is also a layer of seriousness here, because Vonnegut is both condemning the imperialism of the past (which is easy to do) and criticizing our society for letting it continue. We acknowledge the wrongs of the past even as we deny those of the present. I know that, for me personally, we learned about atrocities like the residential schools in Canadian history class, but there was always this subtext that 鈥渢hings are better now鈥�. Well, they are better, in some ways, and maybe in other ways they鈥檙e worse too. When you grow up and leave the history classroom for the less comfortable world outside, you realize that nothing is really so simple as the textbook makes it appear. And so I conclude with my single most favourite quotation from Bluebeard:
I was born in 1989, so I can鈥檛 attest to the zeitgeist Vonnegut was addressing when he wrote Bluebeard. Nevertheless, the above quotation certainly captures my mind in 2011. We celebrate鈥攁nd rightly so鈥攖he declarations of human rights, of equality regardless of gender or ethnicity or sports team, the victories we have so far achieved. Yet there is still so much to do, so much inequality to address, not only within countries that lack or struggle with democracy but even in so-called 鈥渄eveloped鈥� countries like Canada and the United States. Yes, in 1867 we became an independent dominion, and a parliamentary democracy as well. But it wasn鈥檛 until 1918 that women could vote federally. And, I did not know this, but , prior to 1960, First Nations people had to give up their status in order to vote! So we can be proud of being 144 years old, Canada, but it has been a long, hard road towards equality, and we still aren鈥檛 there yet.
But I digress. I digress, because even though Bluebeard is a thin book with a light tone, it makes me meditate upon weighty subjects. I have to commend Vonnegut for this, for he has created a book that raises important questions yet still leaves me curiously uplifted. With that secret in the potato barn, I feel like Rabo is saying to us, 鈥淐ome on, people, let鈥檚 get our act together: we can do this!鈥� We can remember the past, learn from the past, and avoid repeating its mistakes. But first we must remove the scales from our eyes and sacrifice our illusions to see the world as it is. And this is where I attempt to connect all of this to the motif of abstract art, which thus far I have lamentably neglected. Rabo can draw so realistically that it is scary; he doesn鈥檛 exercise this talent, however, because, 鈥渋t鈥檚 just too fucking easy鈥�. And as we see repeatedly throughout Bluebeard, depicting the world ultra-realistically is not the same thing as seeing it. Sometimes a strip of tape is secretly six deer in a forest glade.
I have vague memories of reading Vonnegut before鈥擨 have some very old, very pulp editions of some of his other novels that I 鈥� er 鈥� 鈥渓iberated鈥� from my father. I swear I鈥檝e read Breakfast of Champions before, and I鈥檓 pretty sure I read either Cat鈥檚 Cradle or Player Piano at my sister鈥檚 wedding. I remember this because I was only 15, but the server still offered me wine (I declined). Suffice it to say, although Vonnegut is associated with some interesting memories, this is really the first of his novels that I have read as an adult, and the first one I remember well enough to review.
Bluebeard is easy to read and, therefore, easy to dismiss. Thanks to the conversational first person narration and the consistent switching between Rabo鈥檚 reminiscences and the present day at his home in the Hamptons, Bluebeard feels like a light novel. Yet this is also a story about genocide survivors, abusive relationships, the horror of war, and the horror of mediocrity. This book is an excellent example of how levity can be just as good at delivering a polemic against war as more gritty, realistic depictions like you might find in or in Hollywood movies.
Vonnegut has some choice words for the way movies, in general, portray war. His narrator, Rabo Karabekian, points out that most of the veterans in those movies are the age he was when he returned home, and not the young striplings whose lives are shattered on the front. In general, as one familiar with Vonnegut might expect, utter disdain for war and for the glorification of war pervades Bluebeard, almost dripping off the pages. What makes the book so impressive鈥攁nd so successful鈥攊s how Vonnegut manages to do this in such a pithy way:
That was an ordinary way for a patriotic American to talk back then. It鈥檚 hard to believe how sick of war we used to be. We used to boast of how small our Army and Navy were, and how little influence generals and admirals had in Washington. We used to call armaments manufacturers 鈥淢erchants of Death.鈥�
Can you imagine that?
Coming from a country whose armed forces are routinely ridiculed for their perceived lack of personnel or equipment, I totally can, Rabo. I love this passage so much, because it demonstrates the irony of contemporary ideas of American patriotism鈥攆ailing to support the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan somehow makes one 鈥渦n-American鈥�, or at the very least constitutes a 鈥渟uspicious鈥� action, a black mark on one鈥檚 patriotism. Vonnegut, the Vietnam War no doubt weighing heavily in his mind as he wrote this, wanted to remind us that the militaristic mindset that accompanied the United States鈥� rise as a twentieth-century superpower was not always the status quo.
Rabo Karabekian is an awesome narrator in general, because he does not bullshit. He strikes me as a man who knows exactly who he is, who is comfortable with his place in the world, who accepts his flaws and failures and position of mediocrity. In the end, he is as divested of illusions as it is possible for a human to be. This is an incredibly refreshing type of narrator to have. Rabo doesn鈥檛 ask for forgiveness and doesn鈥檛 offer up excuses (beyond joining us in shaking our heads at his youthful na茂vety). He is self-deprecating, but he does not wallow in self-pity. He has been through war. He married, divorced, married again, and survived his second wife. He is American in citizenship and, mostly, in sentiment, yet he has taken up the flag of his father to carry on their cultural heritage as Armenians鈥攈e leaves all his property and wealth to his estranged sons, on the condition that they legally change their names and those of his grandchildren back to 鈥淜arabekian锟斤拷锟�.
So Rabo is complex yet comfortable, and he is definitely the heart of this story. That might seem obvious given that Bluebeard is a fictional autobiography, but I would argue that there鈥檚 a difference between being the main character in one鈥檚 story and being its heart. In the end, despite invoking a number of famous people (both real and fictional), the story and its lessons are about and for Rabo Karabekian. A different Rabo, one less sympathetic or more clever, would still be the main character of his own life, but would he make the book enjoyable? Would he be able to pull off the levity that allows Vonnegut to juxtapose war with abstract art? I鈥檓 not sure, but I鈥檓 glad I don麓t have to find out!
Rabo owes this state of grace in part to his artistic struggles and the conflict between his technical mastery and his stillborn passion. He also owes it, however, to the effects of Circe Berman, a widow who shows up on his private beach, invites herself to stay at his place, and slowly transforms his home and his life. Overbearing and irksome, Circe is nevertheless a positive influence on Rabo. I say this knowing full well that if some woman redirected my foyer without my permission, I, being the incorrigible 21-year-old that I am, would probably not handle it as well as Rabo does, all things considered! :D The interaction between Rabo and Circe is by far one of the best aspects of Bluebeard, because it is rife both with real tension and with real respect between the two parties. This is evident in how Rabo decides to reveal the contents of his potato barn to Circe.
At one point, Rabo has a very frank conversation with his cook and her daughter, Celeste, in which we learn that despite employing her for years, Rabo has never remembered his cook鈥檚 name (it鈥檚 Allison, Allison White). Indeed, when Rabo kicks out Circe, Allison gives notice, stating that she can鈥檛 stand working for him any more without Circe around to improve the atmosphere of the house. It鈥檚 not that Rabo is a bad person, but he has fallen out of practice interacting with people as human beings, and Allison accuses him of being 鈥渟cared to death of women鈥�. Rabo鈥檚 relationships with women throughout Bluebeard are certainly interesting and rocky. As an adolescent, he forms an attachment to Marilee Kemp, who is eleven years his senior and takes on the role of guardian angel/patron saint, ultimately bringing Rabo to New York to apprentice to Dan Gregory. Rabo eventually loses his virginity to Marilee and then foolishly takes her 鈥測ou have to leave now鈥� speech at face value, always thinking of her for years but never trying to win her back.
When next they meet, she upbraids him thoroughly for this, and through her Vonnegut has some harsh words to deliver about war and women:
鈥淭he whole point of war is to put women everywhere in that condition. It鈥檚 always men against women, with the men only pretending to fight among themselves.鈥�
鈥淭hey can pretend pretty hard sometimes,鈥� I said.
鈥淭hey know that the ones who pretend the hardest,鈥� she said, 鈥済et their pictures in the paper and medals afterwards.鈥�
The 鈥渃ondition鈥� to which Marilee refers is the situation of being desperate for food and protection for themselves and their children. Viewed in this way, war is a mechanism for the oppression of women. The reward for participating in this oppression is glory and power, which is exactly what is promised for participating in colonialism/imperialism as well:
Lecturers traveled all over Northern Europe with such pictures in olden times. With assistants to unroll one end and roll up the other, they urged all ambitious and able persons to abandon tired old Europe and lay claim to rich and beautiful properties in the Promised Land, which were practically theirs for the asking.
Why should a real man stay home when he could be raping a virgin continent?
It鈥檚 all very tongue-in-cheek, but there is also a layer of seriousness here, because Vonnegut is both condemning the imperialism of the past (which is easy to do) and criticizing our society for letting it continue. We acknowledge the wrongs of the past even as we deny those of the present. I know that, for me personally, we learned about atrocities like the residential schools in Canadian history class, but there was always this subtext that 鈥渢hings are better now鈥�. Well, they are better, in some ways, and maybe in other ways they鈥檙e worse too. When you grow up and leave the history classroom for the less comfortable world outside, you realize that nothing is really so simple as the textbook makes it appear. And so I conclude with my single most favourite quotation from Bluebeard:
The darkest secret of this country, I am afraid, is that too many of its citizens imagine that they belong to a much higher civilization somewhere else. That higher civilization doesn鈥檛 have to be another country. It can be the past instead鈥攖he United States as it was before it was spoiled by immigrants and the enfranchisement of the blacks.
This state of mind allows too many of us to lie and cheat and steal from the rest of us, to sell us junk and addictive poisons and corrupting entertainments. What are the rest of us, after all, but sub-human aborigines?
I was born in 1989, so I can鈥檛 attest to the zeitgeist Vonnegut was addressing when he wrote Bluebeard. Nevertheless, the above quotation certainly captures my mind in 2011. We celebrate鈥攁nd rightly so鈥攖he declarations of human rights, of equality regardless of gender or ethnicity or sports team, the victories we have so far achieved. Yet there is still so much to do, so much inequality to address, not only within countries that lack or struggle with democracy but even in so-called 鈥渄eveloped鈥� countries like Canada and the United States. Yes, in 1867 we became an independent dominion, and a parliamentary democracy as well. But it wasn鈥檛 until 1918 that women could vote federally. And, I did not know this, but , prior to 1960, First Nations people had to give up their status in order to vote! So we can be proud of being 144 years old, Canada, but it has been a long, hard road towards equality, and we still aren鈥檛 there yet.
But I digress. I digress, because even though Bluebeard is a thin book with a light tone, it makes me meditate upon weighty subjects. I have to commend Vonnegut for this, for he has created a book that raises important questions yet still leaves me curiously uplifted. With that secret in the potato barn, I feel like Rabo is saying to us, 鈥淐ome on, people, let鈥檚 get our act together: we can do this!鈥� We can remember the past, learn from the past, and avoid repeating its mistakes. But first we must remove the scales from our eyes and sacrifice our illusions to see the world as it is. And this is where I attempt to connect all of this to the motif of abstract art, which thus far I have lamentably neglected. Rabo can draw so realistically that it is scary; he doesn鈥檛 exercise this talent, however, because, 鈥渋t鈥檚 just too fucking easy鈥�. And as we see repeatedly throughout Bluebeard, depicting the world ultra-realistically is not the same thing as seeing it. Sometimes a strip of tape is secretly six deer in a forest glade.
May 27, 2016
I picked this to read as a little birthday treat to myself and, true to form, Vonnegut didn't let me down.
Once apprentice to 'great man' and famous illustrator Dan Gregory before becoming one of the founders of an important abstract art movement, even if he was the least talented of the lot, Rabo Karabekian is now a septuagenarian content to live out his days in his well-off dead wife's family home, on the proceeds of his extremely valuable art collection and his only company his cook, her daughter and his best friend, Paul Slazenger. But then Rabo meets the widow Circe Berman, who bulldozes her way into his life and his home and immediately starts changing things, including the decor. She's even got him to write the autobiography that we're reading now, probably in the hopes of finding out just what he's got hidden in his potato barn...
As good a read as all of the previous books of Vonnegut's that I've read, while it didn't quite scale the heights of some of his best, his middle efforts still reach much higher than most others.
Once apprentice to 'great man' and famous illustrator Dan Gregory before becoming one of the founders of an important abstract art movement, even if he was the least talented of the lot, Rabo Karabekian is now a septuagenarian content to live out his days in his well-off dead wife's family home, on the proceeds of his extremely valuable art collection and his only company his cook, her daughter and his best friend, Paul Slazenger. But then Rabo meets the widow Circe Berman, who bulldozes her way into his life and his home and immediately starts changing things, including the decor. She's even got him to write the autobiography that we're reading now, probably in the hopes of finding out just what he's got hidden in his potato barn...
As good a read as all of the previous books of Vonnegut's that I've read, while it didn't quite scale the heights of some of his best, his middle efforts still reach much higher than most others.
October 2, 2021
After years of being away from Vonnegut and his world, the return reminded me why I'd left it! I enjoy his humor but the lack of focus and constant switching of time frames drove me nuts! It's a fun story filled with odd ball characters which is one of several trademarks of the author. I enjoy authors who stray from the ordinary but this one did not work for my tastes. I have to give him credit for creative character development though the plot fails to rise to the same level. If you're unfamiliar with his approach, it's worth reading but keep in mind you're in for a battle of time frames and barrage of characters that require a scorecard to keep track!
March 21, 2023
Definitely one of Vonnegut's lesser novels. The trope of an imperfect elderly man looking back over his life is starting to feel repetitive
July 30, 2021
No es frecuente que la sociedad de la postguerra suscite en el escritor el uso de un tono amable y c谩lido. Antes bien, encontramos aut茅nticos maestros del gris oscuro casi negro. Kurt Vonnegut es una de las grandes excepciones, pues no abandona un profundo pesimismo sobre la condici贸n humana, casi cercano a Schopenhauer, pero con un tono indonfundible de guasa y recochineo, rico en sarcasmos, que despierta las delicias de sus admiradores, entre los que me encuentro.
Si en "Matadero cinco" Vonnegut se despachaba agusto con el militarismo, "Barbazul" se erige como una cr铆tica feroz contra el mundo del arte, concretamente el del expresionismo abstracto, sin dejar de lado la reflexi贸n humanista sobre los conflictos b茅licos (nobleza obliga). Por sus p谩rrafos, desfilan mediocres que se disfrazan de artistas incomprendidos, genios confundidos con mediocres, el divismo de los mimados por el stablishment y los gustos populares... y ninguno se salva de la pluma de Vonnegut, aunque muestre cierta predilecci贸n por los fracasados.
Es imposible analizar la estructura y el estilo de esta obra sin establecer paralelismos evidentes con la citada "Matadero cinco". Ambas presentan una narraci贸n no lineal y de car谩cter fragmentario, pero en "Matadero cinco" es muy complicado establecer una l铆nea temporal, algo que no sucede en "Barbazul", donde las disgresiones son el principal motor de la mayor parte de los saltos temporales, lo que da un mayor realismo frente a los "viajes astrales" de Billy Pilgrim. El estilo, sobre todo de los di谩logos y, en menor medida, de las reflexiones, del joven Rabo Karabekian recuerda a las del Pilgrim soldado, un candor de juventud na茂f, adquiriendo un mayor pesimismo cuando la perspectiva cambia a la del Karabekian viejo y recluido. En cualquier caso, es un estilo desenfadado, fresco y sin demasiados retoricismos.
Adoro a Vonnegut. Hace falta m谩s mala leche de este tipo en la literatura actual.
Si en "Matadero cinco" Vonnegut se despachaba agusto con el militarismo, "Barbazul" se erige como una cr铆tica feroz contra el mundo del arte, concretamente el del expresionismo abstracto, sin dejar de lado la reflexi贸n humanista sobre los conflictos b茅licos (nobleza obliga). Por sus p谩rrafos, desfilan mediocres que se disfrazan de artistas incomprendidos, genios confundidos con mediocres, el divismo de los mimados por el stablishment y los gustos populares... y ninguno se salva de la pluma de Vonnegut, aunque muestre cierta predilecci贸n por los fracasados.
Es imposible analizar la estructura y el estilo de esta obra sin establecer paralelismos evidentes con la citada "Matadero cinco". Ambas presentan una narraci贸n no lineal y de car谩cter fragmentario, pero en "Matadero cinco" es muy complicado establecer una l铆nea temporal, algo que no sucede en "Barbazul", donde las disgresiones son el principal motor de la mayor parte de los saltos temporales, lo que da un mayor realismo frente a los "viajes astrales" de Billy Pilgrim. El estilo, sobre todo de los di谩logos y, en menor medida, de las reflexiones, del joven Rabo Karabekian recuerda a las del Pilgrim soldado, un candor de juventud na茂f, adquiriendo un mayor pesimismo cuando la perspectiva cambia a la del Karabekian viejo y recluido. En cualquier caso, es un estilo desenfadado, fresco y sin demasiados retoricismos.
Adoro a Vonnegut. Hace falta m谩s mala leche de este tipo en la literatura actual.
February 2, 2018
鈥淲hat will be found written after the name Rabo Karabekian in the Big Book on Judgment Day?
Soldier: Excellent.
Husband and Father: Floparroo.
Serious artist: Floparroo鈥�
Loved this autobiography of the fictional painter Rabo Karabekian (who briefly appears in Breakfast of Champions and Deadeye Dick). In typical KV fashion, it touches on morality, war, and the human condition. And, of course, there鈥檚 that dark humor I so adore.
Soldier: Excellent.
Husband and Father: Floparroo.
Serious artist: Floparroo鈥�
Loved this autobiography of the fictional painter Rabo Karabekian (who briefly appears in Breakfast of Champions and Deadeye Dick). In typical KV fashion, it touches on morality, war, and the human condition. And, of course, there鈥檚 that dark humor I so adore.
August 8, 2024
袧邪褕 芯锌芯胁褨写邪褔 鈥� 芯写薪芯芯泻懈泄 胁械褌械褉邪薪 袛褉褍谐芯褩 褋胁褨褌芯胁芯褩 胁褨泄薪懈, 薪邪褉芯写卸械薪懈泄 胁褨写 斜邪褌褜泻褨胁, 褟泻褨 锌械褉械卸懈谢懈 谐械薪芯褑懈写 胁褨褉屑械薪 褨 卸懈谢懈 褟泻 褨屑屑褨谐褉邪薪褌懈 胁 袗屑械褉懈褑褨. 袨褑褨薪褞胁邪谢褜薪懈泄 锌芯谐谢褟写 薪邪 褋褍褔邪褋薪械 屑懈褋褌械褑褌胁芯 褌邪 芯写胁褨褔薪芯褩 袣褍褉褌芯胁芯褩 褌械屑懈 锌芯胁芯褦薪薪芯褩 谢褞写懈薪懈. 袡芯谐芯 褉芯蟹锌芯胁褨写褨 屑械卸褍褞褌褜 屑褨卸 褋泻芯褉斜芯褌芯褞 褌邪 褨褉芯薪褨褦褞, 屑褨卸 胁褨写褔邪褦屑 褌邪 蟹邪褏芯锌谢械薪薪褟屑. 孝械泻褋褌 薪邪褋懈褔械薪懈泄 褨 褑械 薪械 斜褍写械 谢械谐泻芯褞 锌褉芯谐褍谢褟薪泻芯褞. 袗谢械 写谢褟 褕邪薪褍胁邪谢褜薪懈泻褨胁 袙芯薪薪械覒褍褌褌邪-屑芯谢芯写褕芯谐芯 褑械 谐邪褉薪邪 泻薪懈谐邪 褍 褋泻邪褉斜薪懈褔泻褍 褍谢褞斜谢械薪懈褏.
袧邪 卸邪谢褜, 蟹 袣褍褉褌芯屑, 芯泻褉褨屑 袘褨泄薪褨, 胁 屑械薪械 褌邪泻 褨 薪械 褋泻谢邪谢芯褋褜. 袨褌邪泻械.
袧邪 卸邪谢褜, 蟹 袣褍褉褌芯屑, 芯泻褉褨屑 袘褨泄薪褨, 胁 屑械薪械 褌邪泻 褨 薪械 褋泻谢邪谢芯褋褜. 袨褌邪泻械.
June 8, 2024
vonnegut che ha lasciato questo mondo senza pulitzer, nobel e national book award 猫 una tragedia apocalittica...
April 17, 2025
袧褨褏褌芯 褍 褋胁褨褌褨 薪械 胁屑褨褦 褌邪泻 谢械谐泻芯 锌懈褋邪褌懈 锌褉芯 褋泻谢邪写薪械 褌邪 褌褉邪谐褨褔薪械 褟泻 袣褍褉褌 袙芯薪薪械谐褍褌.
袨褋褜 褦 70-谢褨褌薪褨泄 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻-邪斜褋褌褉邪泻褑褨芯薪褨褋褌 袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪. "小懈薪褟 斜芯褉芯写邪" - 褑械 泄芯谐芯 褔邪褋褌泻芯胁芯 邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟, 褔邪褋褌泻芯胁芯 褖芯写械薪薪懈泻. 袙褨薪 锌褉芯卸懈胁邪褦 斜邪谐邪褌褍 褋褌邪褉褨褋褌褜 褍 胁懈褕褍泻邪薪芯屑褍 屑邪褦褌泻褍 锌芯泻褨泄薪芯褩 写褉褍卸懈薪懈, 屑邪褦 写芯褉芯谐褍 泻芯谢械泻褑褨褞 泻邪褉褌懈薪, 褦 胁褋械褋胁褨褌薪褜芯 胁褨写芯屑懈屑 屑懈褌褑械屑. 袟写邪褦褌褜褋褟, 卸懈褌褌褟 胁写邪谢芯褋褜 褨 胁褋械 褔褍写芯胁芯.
袗谢械 蟹邪 褎邪泻褌邪屑懈 斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褩 锌褉懈褏芯胁褍褞褌褜褋褟 褌邪泻褨 锌芯写褨褩, 褟泻 谐械薪芯褑懈写 胁褨褉屑械薪 褍 袨褋屑邪薪褋褜泻褨泄 褨屑锌械褉褨褩, 袙械谢懈泻邪 写械锌褉械褋褨褟 胁 小楔袗, 袛褉褍谐邪 褋胁褨褌芯胁邪 胁褨泄薪邪, 褋邪屑芯谐褍斜褋褌胁邪 写褉褍蟹褨胁-褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻褨胁 褌邪 薪械褖邪褋谢懈胁懈泄 褕谢褞斜.
袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪 - 褑械 胁懈谐邪写邪薪懈泄 锌械褉褋芯薪邪卸. 袗谢械 蟹邪胁写褟泻懈 褌芯薪泻芯屑褍 胁锌谢械褌械薪薪褞 褉械邪谢褜薪懈褏 锌械褉褋芯薪邪卸褨胁 褌邪 锌芯写褨泄, 泄芯谐芯 斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟 胁懈谐谢褟写邪褦 薪邪写蟹胁懈褔邪泄薪芯 写芯褋褌芯胁褨褉薪芯褞. 袪芯褌泻芯, 袩芯谢谢芯泻, 邪屑械褉懈泻邪薪褋褜泻懈泄 邪斜褋褌褉邪泻褌薪懈泄 械泻褋锌褉械褋褨芯薪褨蟹屑 - 褌邪泻械 胁褉邪卸械薪薪褟, 褖芯 锌芯褉褟写 蟹 薪懈屑懈 斜褍胁 褨 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪 蟹 褎邪褉斜芯褞 褋械泄褌褨薪-写褞褉邪-谢褞泻褋.
笑械 屑械薪褨 薪邪谐邪写褍褦 褋褌褉褨褔泻褍 "袙懈褏褨写 褔械褉械蟹 褋褍胁械薪褨褉薪褍 泻褉邪屑薪懈褑褞", 写械 芯褌芯褔械薪薪褟 胁褨写芯屑懈褏 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻褨胁 写邪褦 锌褉芯褋褌褨褉 写谢褟 褋褌胁芯褉械薪薪褟 薪芯胁懈褏 屑褨褎褨褔薪懈褏 锌械褉褋芯薪邪卸褨胁.
袨褋褜 褦 70-谢褨褌薪褨泄 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻-邪斜褋褌褉邪泻褑褨芯薪褨褋褌 袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪. "小懈薪褟 斜芯褉芯写邪" - 褑械 泄芯谐芯 褔邪褋褌泻芯胁芯 邪胁褌芯斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟, 褔邪褋褌泻芯胁芯 褖芯写械薪薪懈泻. 袙褨薪 锌褉芯卸懈胁邪褦 斜邪谐邪褌褍 褋褌邪褉褨褋褌褜 褍 胁懈褕褍泻邪薪芯屑褍 屑邪褦褌泻褍 锌芯泻褨泄薪芯褩 写褉褍卸懈薪懈, 屑邪褦 写芯褉芯谐褍 泻芯谢械泻褑褨褞 泻邪褉褌懈薪, 褦 胁褋械褋胁褨褌薪褜芯 胁褨写芯屑懈屑 屑懈褌褑械屑. 袟写邪褦褌褜褋褟, 卸懈褌褌褟 胁写邪谢芯褋褜 褨 胁褋械 褔褍写芯胁芯.
袗谢械 蟹邪 褎邪泻褌邪屑懈 斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褩 锌褉懈褏芯胁褍褞褌褜褋褟 褌邪泻褨 锌芯写褨褩, 褟泻 谐械薪芯褑懈写 胁褨褉屑械薪 褍 袨褋屑邪薪褋褜泻褨泄 褨屑锌械褉褨褩, 袙械谢懈泻邪 写械锌褉械褋褨褟 胁 小楔袗, 袛褉褍谐邪 褋胁褨褌芯胁邪 胁褨泄薪邪, 褋邪屑芯谐褍斜褋褌胁邪 写褉褍蟹褨胁-褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻褨胁 褌邪 薪械褖邪褋谢懈胁懈泄 褕谢褞斜.
袪邪斜芯 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪 - 褑械 胁懈谐邪写邪薪懈泄 锌械褉褋芯薪邪卸. 袗谢械 蟹邪胁写褟泻懈 褌芯薪泻芯屑褍 胁锌谢械褌械薪薪褞 褉械邪谢褜薪懈褏 锌械褉褋芯薪邪卸褨胁 褌邪 锌芯写褨泄, 泄芯谐芯 斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟 胁懈谐谢褟写邪褦 薪邪写蟹胁懈褔邪泄薪芯 写芯褋褌芯胁褨褉薪芯褞. 袪芯褌泻芯, 袩芯谢谢芯泻, 邪屑械褉懈泻邪薪褋褜泻懈泄 邪斜褋褌褉邪泻褌薪懈泄 械泻褋锌褉械褋褨芯薪褨蟹屑 - 褌邪泻械 胁褉邪卸械薪薪褟, 褖芯 锌芯褉褟写 蟹 薪懈屑懈 斜褍胁 褨 袣邪褉邪斜械泻褟薪 蟹 褎邪褉斜芯褞 褋械泄褌褨薪-写褞褉邪-谢褞泻褋.
笑械 屑械薪褨 薪邪谐邪写褍褦 褋褌褉褨褔泻褍 "袙懈褏褨写 褔械褉械蟹 褋褍胁械薪褨褉薪褍 泻褉邪屑薪懈褑褞", 写械 芯褌芯褔械薪薪褟 胁褨写芯屑懈褏 褏褍写芯卸薪懈泻褨胁 写邪褦 锌褉芯褋褌褨褉 写谢褟 褋褌胁芯褉械薪薪褟 薪芯胁懈褏 屑褨褎褨褔薪懈褏 锌械褉褋芯薪邪卸褨胁.
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