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راهها� برگشتن به خانه
آله‌خاندر� سامبرا یکی از شاعران و نویسندگان معاصر مهم آمریکای لاتین اهل شیلی است. جوان است، کم رمان می‌نویس� و رمان‌ها� کوچک است. نکته� اصلی کتاب‌ها� او روایت شاعرانه و فورم بسیار دقیق تکنیکی است. یکی از خصوصیات آثار او، مثل اغلب آثار نویسندگان معاصر برجسته� آمریکای لاتین، وحدت مفهومی و فورمی و نگارشی است. «راهها� برگشتن به خانه» آخرین رمان چاپ‌شده� او است و ماحصل خصوصیات آثار او را در خود دارد. «راهها� برگشتن به خانه» به مساله� نسل جوان شیلی امروز و مشکلات اقلیت‌های� می‌پرداز� که همه� مسایل پیرامون‌شا� را حل‌شد� نمی‌دانن� و بنابراین زندگی سختی دارند، نمی‌گذارن� دیگران به‌جاشا� فکر کنند، هنوز از موهبت دردناک استفاده� خواسته و ناخواسته از ابزار «تردید» در تفکر برخوردار اند و بین دو جبهه� معمول و خاطرجمع «این‌طرفی� و «آن‌طرفی� گرفتار مانده‌ان�.
داستان اما داستانی عاشقانه است.
تکه‌ی� از کتاب:
یک روز عصر تصمیم گرفتم زنگ خانه را بزنم. وقتی دیدم همان زن می‌آی� که در را باز کند گرخیدم چون تازه متوجه شدم هیچ برنامه‌ی� ندارم و اصلاً نمی‌دان� خودم را معرفی بکنم یا نکنم. به‌لکن� گفتم گربه‌ا� را گم کرده‌ا�. اسم گربه را از من پرسید و جوابی نداشتم. پرسید گربه چه‌شکل� است. گفتم گربه نر است، سیاه، سفید و قهوه‌ی� است.
زن گفت: «پس نر نیس، ماده اس.»
گفتم: «نره.»
گفت: «اگه سه‌رنگ� نر نیس. گربه� سه‌رن� ماده اس.» و بعد گفت نر یا ماده، این روزها در محله گربه� بی‌صاح� ندیده است.
رفت تو و آمد در را ببندد که تقریباً فریادزنان گفتم: «کلائودیا!»
پرسید: «شما؟»
خودم را معرفی کردم. گفتم در مایپو هم‌دیگ� را می‌شناختی�. گفتم با هم دوست بودیم.
مدت زیادی به من نگاه کرد. هیچ نگفتم و نجنبیدم که خوب نگاه کند. منتظر ماندن برای شناخته شدن حس غریبی است. عاقبت گفت: «می‌دون� کی هستی. من کلائودیا نیستم. خیمه‌ن� هستم، خواهر کلائودیا. شما هم همون پسری هستی که اون‌ش� دمبال‌ا� کرده بود. شما علا‌ءالدی� هستی. کلائودیا این اسمو روت گذاشته بود. هروقت یادت می‌افتادی� خنده‌مو� می‌گرف�. علاءالدین.»
نمی‌دانست� چه بگویم. به‌تلخ� فهمیدم درست است، خیمه‌ن� همان زنی است که سال‌ه� پیش تعقیب‌ا� کردم: معشوقه� فرضی رائول. البته کلائودیا هیچ‌وق� به من نگفت خواهرش است. وزنی بر شانه‌ا� سنگینی می‌کرد� دنبال جمله‌ی� درخور بودم. به‌صدای� ضعیف گفتم: «می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو ببینم.»
«من فک کردم شما دمبال گربه می‌گردی� اون‌ا� گربه� ماده.»
گفتم: «اون که آره. اما تو این سالا خیلی به اون دوره تو مایپو فکر کرده�. می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو دوباره ببینم.»
نگاه خیره� خیمه‌ن� باری از معاندت داشت. هیچ نمی‌گف�. من حرف می‌زدم� عصبی درباره� گذشته و میل به اعاده� گذشته جمله می‌بافت�.
خیمه‌ن� گفت: «نمی‌دون� چرا می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو ببینی. بعید می‌دون� هیچ‌وق� بتونی زندگی ما رو درک کنی. اون وقتا مردم دمبال گم‌شده‌هاشو� بودن، دمبال جسد آدمایی بودن که مفقود شده بودن. شک ندارم تو اون روزا هم مثل حالا دمبال بچه‌گرب� و توله‌س� بودی.»
نمی‌فهمید� چرا این‌طو� پرخاش می‌کند� به‌نظر� رفتارش بی‌دلی� و پراغراق بود. بااین‌هم� خیمه‌ن� شماره� تلفه‌فون‌ا� را یادداشت کرد و گفت: «وقتی اومد به‌ا� می‌د�.»
«فک می‌کنی� کی بیاد؟»
گفت: «هر لحظه ممکنه بیاد. بابام داره می‌میر�. وفتی بمیره خواهرجون از یانکی‌آبا� می‌آ� که بالای سر مرده‌ا� گریه کنه و سهم‌اش� از ارث بگیره.»
به‌نظر� ایالات متحده� آمریکا را «یانکی‌آباد� نامیدن مضحک و خام آمد و ضمناً بی‌درن� یاد گفت‌وگ� با کلائودیا درباره� پرچم‌ه� در معبد مایپو افتادم. به خودم گفتم دست سرنوشت سرانجام او را به کشوری برده است که در کودکی آن را خوار و پست می‌شمر�. به خودم گفتم دیگر باید بروم اما نمی‌توانست� سوآل آخری را که در ذهن داشتم و سوآلی مودبانه بود نپرسم:
«دون رائول حال‌شو� چه‌طوره؟�
«من نمی‌دون� دون رائول حال‌شو� چه‌طور�. اما بابام داره می‌میر�. دیگه خدافظ علاءالدین. تو نمی‌فهمی� هیچ‌وق� هیچ‌چ� نمی‌فهمی� پررو!»
http://www.vandadjalili.com/article/14/
ٳٱ://ɷɷ../Ǵǰ/را-ای-ب...
داستان اما داستانی عاشقانه است.
تکه‌ی� از کتاب:
یک روز عصر تصمیم گرفتم زنگ خانه را بزنم. وقتی دیدم همان زن می‌آی� که در را باز کند گرخیدم چون تازه متوجه شدم هیچ برنامه‌ی� ندارم و اصلاً نمی‌دان� خودم را معرفی بکنم یا نکنم. به‌لکن� گفتم گربه‌ا� را گم کرده‌ا�. اسم گربه را از من پرسید و جوابی نداشتم. پرسید گربه چه‌شکل� است. گفتم گربه نر است، سیاه، سفید و قهوه‌ی� است.
زن گفت: «پس نر نیس، ماده اس.»
گفتم: «نره.»
گفت: «اگه سه‌رنگ� نر نیس. گربه� سه‌رن� ماده اس.» و بعد گفت نر یا ماده، این روزها در محله گربه� بی‌صاح� ندیده است.
رفت تو و آمد در را ببندد که تقریباً فریادزنان گفتم: «کلائودیا!»
پرسید: «شما؟»
خودم را معرفی کردم. گفتم در مایپو هم‌دیگ� را می‌شناختی�. گفتم با هم دوست بودیم.
مدت زیادی به من نگاه کرد. هیچ نگفتم و نجنبیدم که خوب نگاه کند. منتظر ماندن برای شناخته شدن حس غریبی است. عاقبت گفت: «می‌دون� کی هستی. من کلائودیا نیستم. خیمه‌ن� هستم، خواهر کلائودیا. شما هم همون پسری هستی که اون‌ش� دمبال‌ا� کرده بود. شما علا‌ءالدی� هستی. کلائودیا این اسمو روت گذاشته بود. هروقت یادت می‌افتادی� خنده‌مو� می‌گرف�. علاءالدین.»
نمی‌دانست� چه بگویم. به‌تلخ� فهمیدم درست است، خیمه‌ن� همان زنی است که سال‌ه� پیش تعقیب‌ا� کردم: معشوقه� فرضی رائول. البته کلائودیا هیچ‌وق� به من نگفت خواهرش است. وزنی بر شانه‌ا� سنگینی می‌کرد� دنبال جمله‌ی� درخور بودم. به‌صدای� ضعیف گفتم: «می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو ببینم.»
«من فک کردم شما دمبال گربه می‌گردی� اون‌ا� گربه� ماده.»
گفتم: «اون که آره. اما تو این سالا خیلی به اون دوره تو مایپو فکر کرده�. می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو دوباره ببینم.»
نگاه خیره� خیمه‌ن� باری از معاندت داشت. هیچ نمی‌گف�. من حرف می‌زدم� عصبی درباره� گذشته و میل به اعاده� گذشته جمله می‌بافت�.
خیمه‌ن� گفت: «نمی‌دون� چرا می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو ببینی. بعید می‌دون� هیچ‌وق� بتونی زندگی ما رو درک کنی. اون وقتا مردم دمبال گم‌شده‌هاشو� بودن، دمبال جسد آدمایی بودن که مفقود شده بودن. شک ندارم تو اون روزا هم مثل حالا دمبال بچه‌گرب� و توله‌س� بودی.»
نمی‌فهمید� چرا این‌طو� پرخاش می‌کند� به‌نظر� رفتارش بی‌دلی� و پراغراق بود. بااین‌هم� خیمه‌ن� شماره� تلفه‌فون‌ا� را یادداشت کرد و گفت: «وقتی اومد به‌ا� می‌د�.»
«فک می‌کنی� کی بیاد؟»
گفت: «هر لحظه ممکنه بیاد. بابام داره می‌میر�. وفتی بمیره خواهرجون از یانکی‌آبا� می‌آ� که بالای سر مرده‌ا� گریه کنه و سهم‌اش� از ارث بگیره.»
به‌نظر� ایالات متحده� آمریکا را «یانکی‌آباد� نامیدن مضحک و خام آمد و ضمناً بی‌درن� یاد گفت‌وگ� با کلائودیا درباره� پرچم‌ه� در معبد مایپو افتادم. به خودم گفتم دست سرنوشت سرانجام او را به کشوری برده است که در کودکی آن را خوار و پست می‌شمر�. به خودم گفتم دیگر باید بروم اما نمی‌توانست� سوآل آخری را که در ذهن داشتم و سوآلی مودبانه بود نپرسم:
«دون رائول حال‌شو� چه‌طوره؟�
«من نمی‌دون� دون رائول حال‌شو� چه‌طور�. اما بابام داره می‌میر�. دیگه خدافظ علاءالدین. تو نمی‌فهمی� هیچ‌وق� هیچ‌چ� نمی‌فهمی� پررو!»
http://www.vandadjalili.com/article/14/
ٳٱ://ɷɷ../Ǵǰ/را-ای-ب...
145 pages, Paperback
First published April 8, 2011
283 people are currently reading
11.4k people want to read
About the author
Alejandro Zambra
52books3,650followersAlejandro Zambra is a Chilean writer. He is the author of Bonsai, The Private Lives of Trees, Ways of Going Home, My Documents, Multiple Choice, Not to Read, Chilean Poet and Childish Literature. His stories have appeared in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Granta, Harper's, Zoetrope, and McSweeney’s, among other places.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,541 reviews
March 27, 2025
Instead of howling I write books.
We often contemplate upon various possibilities in literature and more so when we come across any metafictional narrative, and every such encounter leave us in awe of what we have achieved till now and what more could be done with literature, for we could only answer that question when our future traverses the realm of time to get buried under the depths of past. Such questions keep knocking at our consciousness, time and again, to examine the limits of literature and also to expand them.
The question one needs to really ask is that is it possible to write a genuine story at all, if one wants to; does any author of requisite skill and caliber capable of producing such a story which stands on its own? For the process of writing demands a particular rhythm, precision which one needs to overcome the creative inertia, moreover, the characters chosen by the author, at times, may behave on their own so it may so happen that those may choose the author to behave as per them.
The quintessential characteristics of metafiction involve the self-reflectiveness, the story reflects upon itself as if it is self-sufficient, the device of self-reflection is abundantly used in postmodernism and metafiction. Alejandro Zambra weaves in a unique narrative style wherein multiples stories are nested inside a larger story or perhaps the larger story reflects unto the smaller one. The narrator of book is an author himself who writes about the narrator of a book he is writing; the narrator of that book is also an author who writes about the narrator of a book he himself is writing; or perhaps it is other way around- from interior to exterior. Moreover, the narrator of book which the narrator of Zambra is writing about has a being of its own and expresses himself through creation of other story and the other narrator, and the process goes on to ad infinitum. It reminds me of Maurice Bhanchot whose all novels are self- reflective.
The book raises the basic questions about the process of writing itself in a way that the narrator of the book poses the question about the very premise of writing that is it really possible to attempt a genuine story about someone, something or even oneself, something which is sacred in itself and doesn’t need anything to refer to. An author works like a spy who peeps into others� lives to look for various possibilities but doesn’t know what exactly he wants. The author takes this metafictional examination to deep into core of the very process of writing i.e. is an author capable of being unaffected by his past, could an author write with a Zen like attitude so that his pasts or memories won’t come to haunt him through his words?
The fundamental question is that could we write by keeping our past aside? Moreover, the stories which we tell through our writing, do they have existence of their own, in sense that they do not resemble the stories of people we come across in life. Or do we tell stories of other people who we encounter in our lives? Is it right to use stories of other people in our stories? And most importantly, are we capable of telling other people’s stories? Isn’t it so that however we try to reveal others� stories, but we always end up sharing our own stories?
And we need to further deep delve into the core that what are our stories comprised of? Do words protects us or expose us? The narrator of the story perhaps writes to come back to his childhood; to relive the moments he lost there in the graveyard of time. Whatever way he tries, he always ends up with looking for childhood memories, to relive them, or perhaps to make peace with them and to get away from the ghost those memories. We long for time when we are lost, and everything is new so that we may start afresh with no baggage of the haunting past. The narrator or the author says that when we write something, we wash our hands of everything as if by that we may advance towards something and perhaps that’s why we lie so much that it becomes very difficult to write an honest and genuine story. It reminds me of autofiction genre, which has become quite popular in the recent times, so as to see it in the light of honesty to tell a story.
The author contemplates upon the problem of our past reincarnating itself through our stories and proposes that perhaps what we need are those odd little fragments of memory that have no beginning and no end, when we think about our past, we remember the sounds of the images, and we should simply describe these sounds, which the author calls “stains on memory� and nothing more. However, we fall to the curse and habit of creating a ‘passable� prose and end up producing ingenuine and obscure story. Though it is said that words are better than silence as proposed by the narrator that though his parents maintain silence to authoritarianism, he and his friends use words as to show their resistance; but we can’t save ourself from the cruel and stingy wounds of the words as they expose us in the process of writing our own stories, ‘echoes and hollows of the language� define our life through their pattern, and that’s the risk an author has to take while writing stories.
Ways of Going Home alludes to the various possible (and perhaps impossible too) ways to writing a story, it is like a laboratory of an author wherein he not only actually shows by writing the story in multiple ways, putting into practice the very process of creation but it may also refer to multiple ways of remembering, understanding and accepting by making peace with our past. Writing may be a tricky vocation in which there may be melodrama for initially having wasted many nights on this useless passion, but gradually we start feeling comfortable with it, without looking for or feeling the need of any grandeur purpose or goal in it. However, it is a vocation which requires a perseverance of plenitude as it is also an expression of our solitude wherein, we seek validation from others, and it may not come easy at times.
Though the novel may be slim in size, a small story or series of attempt to write one based in the times of Pinochet, the structure of the novel consists of unique vastness like sea wherein the dynamic narrative is created using the alternating chapters of the narrator’s life and the book he is writing, wherein we find that the life of the narrator is repeated through endless revisions through the story of the book he is writing, the process goes on and on until it eventually dawn on you that perhaps it is not just about the narrative of the story in general but it also showcases the way a story is being written under political repression. At this juncture, it reminds me of Ismail Kadare, who we lost this year, who used parables, fables, allegories and folk stories to write under the rule of totalitarianism.
So, what could be said about the book which is so unique in structure and nature, is it a memoir or a love story? Well, it could be mentioned with authority that Ways of Going Home is about the survivors of the lost world, those who did not give in to the tortures of the dictatorship as they are main characters of the book, and it is also about those who grew up in the fallout of dictatorship and try to recreate the history of a generation which has no class, no rituals and no roots. The narrator of the book and the narrator of the book he is writing take writing as their divine tool to make peace with their haunting pasts, while the narrator longs for validation of his manuscript through the eyes of Eme, the narrator of the book he writes, helps his lover, Claudia to reclaim her past through their journey into the place of their childhood or as a character to reclaim her own existence which in a way depends on their past or our own past for that matter. It may be said that it isn’t love that unites the narrator and Claudia, rather it’s the love of memory.
We discover coincidences that inevitably bring us back to real life, to our youth, to childhood. Because we can’t, we don’t know how to talk about a movie or a book anymore; the moment has come when movies and novels don’t matter, only the time when we saw them, read them: where we were, what we were doing, who we were then.
We often contemplate upon various possibilities in literature and more so when we come across any metafictional narrative, and every such encounter leave us in awe of what we have achieved till now and what more could be done with literature, for we could only answer that question when our future traverses the realm of time to get buried under the depths of past. Such questions keep knocking at our consciousness, time and again, to examine the limits of literature and also to expand them.
The question one needs to really ask is that is it possible to write a genuine story at all, if one wants to; does any author of requisite skill and caliber capable of producing such a story which stands on its own? For the process of writing demands a particular rhythm, precision which one needs to overcome the creative inertia, moreover, the characters chosen by the author, at times, may behave on their own so it may so happen that those may choose the author to behave as per them.
The quintessential characteristics of metafiction involve the self-reflectiveness, the story reflects upon itself as if it is self-sufficient, the device of self-reflection is abundantly used in postmodernism and metafiction. Alejandro Zambra weaves in a unique narrative style wherein multiples stories are nested inside a larger story or perhaps the larger story reflects unto the smaller one. The narrator of book is an author himself who writes about the narrator of a book he is writing; the narrator of that book is also an author who writes about the narrator of a book he himself is writing; or perhaps it is other way around- from interior to exterior. Moreover, the narrator of book which the narrator of Zambra is writing about has a being of its own and expresses himself through creation of other story and the other narrator, and the process goes on to ad infinitum. It reminds me of Maurice Bhanchot whose all novels are self- reflective.
The book raises the basic questions about the process of writing itself in a way that the narrator of the book poses the question about the very premise of writing that is it really possible to attempt a genuine story about someone, something or even oneself, something which is sacred in itself and doesn’t need anything to refer to. An author works like a spy who peeps into others� lives to look for various possibilities but doesn’t know what exactly he wants. The author takes this metafictional examination to deep into core of the very process of writing i.e. is an author capable of being unaffected by his past, could an author write with a Zen like attitude so that his pasts or memories won’t come to haunt him through his words?
The fundamental question is that could we write by keeping our past aside? Moreover, the stories which we tell through our writing, do they have existence of their own, in sense that they do not resemble the stories of people we come across in life. Or do we tell stories of other people who we encounter in our lives? Is it right to use stories of other people in our stories? And most importantly, are we capable of telling other people’s stories? Isn’t it so that however we try to reveal others� stories, but we always end up sharing our own stories?
And we need to further deep delve into the core that what are our stories comprised of? Do words protects us or expose us? The narrator of the story perhaps writes to come back to his childhood; to relive the moments he lost there in the graveyard of time. Whatever way he tries, he always ends up with looking for childhood memories, to relive them, or perhaps to make peace with them and to get away from the ghost those memories. We long for time when we are lost, and everything is new so that we may start afresh with no baggage of the haunting past. The narrator or the author says that when we write something, we wash our hands of everything as if by that we may advance towards something and perhaps that’s why we lie so much that it becomes very difficult to write an honest and genuine story. It reminds me of autofiction genre, which has become quite popular in the recent times, so as to see it in the light of honesty to tell a story.
The author contemplates upon the problem of our past reincarnating itself through our stories and proposes that perhaps what we need are those odd little fragments of memory that have no beginning and no end, when we think about our past, we remember the sounds of the images, and we should simply describe these sounds, which the author calls “stains on memory� and nothing more. However, we fall to the curse and habit of creating a ‘passable� prose and end up producing ingenuine and obscure story. Though it is said that words are better than silence as proposed by the narrator that though his parents maintain silence to authoritarianism, he and his friends use words as to show their resistance; but we can’t save ourself from the cruel and stingy wounds of the words as they expose us in the process of writing our own stories, ‘echoes and hollows of the language� define our life through their pattern, and that’s the risk an author has to take while writing stories.
Ways of Going Home alludes to the various possible (and perhaps impossible too) ways to writing a story, it is like a laboratory of an author wherein he not only actually shows by writing the story in multiple ways, putting into practice the very process of creation but it may also refer to multiple ways of remembering, understanding and accepting by making peace with our past. Writing may be a tricky vocation in which there may be melodrama for initially having wasted many nights on this useless passion, but gradually we start feeling comfortable with it, without looking for or feeling the need of any grandeur purpose or goal in it. However, it is a vocation which requires a perseverance of plenitude as it is also an expression of our solitude wherein, we seek validation from others, and it may not come easy at times.
Though the novel may be slim in size, a small story or series of attempt to write one based in the times of Pinochet, the structure of the novel consists of unique vastness like sea wherein the dynamic narrative is created using the alternating chapters of the narrator’s life and the book he is writing, wherein we find that the life of the narrator is repeated through endless revisions through the story of the book he is writing, the process goes on and on until it eventually dawn on you that perhaps it is not just about the narrative of the story in general but it also showcases the way a story is being written under political repression. At this juncture, it reminds me of Ismail Kadare, who we lost this year, who used parables, fables, allegories and folk stories to write under the rule of totalitarianism.
So, what could be said about the book which is so unique in structure and nature, is it a memoir or a love story? Well, it could be mentioned with authority that Ways of Going Home is about the survivors of the lost world, those who did not give in to the tortures of the dictatorship as they are main characters of the book, and it is also about those who grew up in the fallout of dictatorship and try to recreate the history of a generation which has no class, no rituals and no roots. The narrator of the book and the narrator of the book he is writing take writing as their divine tool to make peace with their haunting pasts, while the narrator longs for validation of his manuscript through the eyes of Eme, the narrator of the book he writes, helps his lover, Claudia to reclaim her past through their journey into the place of their childhood or as a character to reclaim her own existence which in a way depends on their past or our own past for that matter. It may be said that it isn’t love that unites the narrator and Claudia, rather it’s the love of memory.
We discover coincidences that inevitably bring us back to real life, to our youth, to childhood. Because we can’t, we don’t know how to talk about a movie or a book anymore; the moment has come when movies and novels don’t matter, only the time when we saw them, read them: where we were, what we were doing, who we were then.
January 7, 2023
“� aunque queramos contar historias ajenas terminamos siempre contando la historia propia.�Autor y narrador y protagonista, diario y novela, la construcción del relato, su imbricación con la vida del autor, recuerdos de la niñez y la vida adulta, las culpas propias y ajenas, todo se mezcla en esta breve e intensa novela llena de huecos que el lector debe ocupar para terminar de construir este artefacto triste y melancólico que es “Formas de volver a casa�.
“Lo que pasa� es que espero una voz. Una voz que no es la mía. Una voz antigua, novelesca, firme. O es que me gusta estar en el libro. Es que prefiero escribir a haber escrito. Prefiero permanecer, habitar ese tiempo, convivir con esos años, perseguir largamente imágenes esquivas y repasarlas con cuidado. Verlas mal, pero verlas. Quedarme ahí, mirando.�Cuánta razón tiene Zambra cuando dice aquello de que “es bueno perder la confianza en el suelo, que es necesario saber que de un momento a otro todo puede venirse abajo�, algo que empezamos a saber desde el mismo instante, que nunca es un instante, en el que descubrimos que los padres no son los dioses omnipotentes y omniscientes que creíamos ni es absoluta su protección, que nosotros no somos tan importantes, que ellos tienen una vida más allá de nosotros, una vida que incluso puede avergonzarnos, una vida que transcurre paralela a la nuestra y en la que, en el caso del protagonista, mientras ellos�
“� mataban o eran muertos, nosotros hacíamos dibujos en un rincón. Mientras el país se caía a pedazos nosotros aprendíamos a hablar, a caminar, a doblar las servilletas en forma de barcos, de aviones. Mientras la novela sucedía, nosotros jugábamos a escondernos, a desaparecer.�Nada es fijo e inamovible, la vida es frágil, la democracia es frágil, la gente olvida rápidamente lo que fueron en otras épocas esos movimientos que tanta fuerza están tomando en los últimos tiempos y que utilizan la democracia, siempre tambaleante, justamente para destruirla, no solo con el apoyo de los adeptos, ciegos o no, sino de todos aquellos que miran para otro lado, que dicen no estar a favor pero que tampoco se deciden a posicionarse en contra, que no se dan cuenta de que realmente hay buenos y malos.
“Recuerdo haber pensado, sin orgullo y sin autocompasión, que yo no era ni rico ni pobre, que no era bueno ni malo. Pero era difícil ser eso: ni bueno ni malo. Me parecía que eso era en el fondo, ser malo.�Esa novela, que transcurre durante la dictadura de Pinochet, la de los padres del protagonista, es en la que se sumerge el narrador recuperando la mirada de aquel niño que odiaba a Pinochet porque interrumpía los programas de la tele, sintiéndose ahora culpable por la posición que ellos decidieron tomar, tan distinta a las de otras familias (un poco ese famoso síndrome del superviviente), poniéndose su ropa para mirarse largamente en el espejo, aunque, ya se sabe, a los padres “Nunca aprendemos a mirarlos bien�.
“…Es como si hubiéramos presenciado un crimen. No lo cometimos, solamente pasábamos por el lugar, pero arrancamos porque sabemos que si nos encontraran nos culparían. Nos creemos inocentes, nos creemos culpables: no lo sabemos.�Y desde esa novela escribe también la propia, lamentando no estar más en contra de la nostalgia desde la que escribe una y otra, siendo en todo momento consciente de lo incompleta o torcida que es siempre la novela que acaba saliendo.
“…un libro es siempre el reverso de otro libro inmenso y raro. Un libro ilegible y genuino que traducimos, que traicionamos por el hábito de una prosa pasable.�
May 22, 2022
Formas de Volver a Casa = Ways of Going Home, Alejandro Zambra
A young boy plays hide and seek in the suburbs of Santiago, unaware that his neighbors are becoming entangled in the brutality of Pinochet's regime. Then one night a mysterious girl appears in his neighborhood and makes a life-changing request.
تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز بیست و سوم ماه آوریل سال2016میلادی
عنوان: راه های برگشتن به خانه؛ نویسنده: آلخاندرو (آله خاندرو) سامبرا؛ مترجم ونداد جلیلی؛ تهران، نشر چشمه، سال1394، در145 ص؛ شابک9786002293749؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان اسپانیا - سده21م
کتاب «راه های برگشتن به خانه» را «ونداد خلیلی» از نسخه ی برگردان انگلیسی با عنوان بالا، به فارسی برگردانده اند؛ «راهها� برگشتن به خانه» به مسئاله� ی نسل جوان «شیلی» امروزین، و مشکلات اقلیت‌های� می‌پردازد� که همگی خواسته هاشان را، حل� شده نمی‌دانند� و هنوز هم زندگی دشواری دارند، آنها نمی‌گذارن� دیگران بجای آنها بیندیشند، هنوز از موهبت دردناک استفاده� ی خواسته و ناخواسته، از ابزار «تردید» در تفکر، برخوردار هستند، و بین دو جبهه� ی «این‌طرفی»� و «آن‌طرفی� گرفتار مانده� اند، داستان اما، داستانی عاشقانه است
نقل نمونه متن: (یک روز عصر تصمیم گرفتم زنگ خانه را بزنم؛ وقتی دیدم همان زن می‌آید� که در را باز کند، گرخیدم؛ چون تازه متوجه شدم، هیچ برنامه� ای ندارم، و اصلاً نمی‌دان� خودم را معرفی بکنم یا نکنم؛ به� لکنت گفتم: گربه� ام را گم کرده� ام؛ اسم گربه را از من پرسید، و جوابی نداشتم؛ پرسید: گربه چه� شکلی است؛ گفتم گربه نر است، سیاه، سفید و قهوه� ای است؛ زن گفت: «پس نر نیس، ماده اس.»؛ گفتم: «نره.»؛ گفت: «اگه سه� رنگه نر نیس؛ گربه� ی سه� رنگ ماده اس.»؛ و بعد گفت نر یا ماده، این روزها در محله، گربه� ی بی‌صاح� ندیده است؛ رفت تو و آمد در را ببندد، که تقریباً فریادزنان گفتم: «کلائودیا!»؛
پرسید: «شما؟»؛ خودم را معرفی کردم؛ گفتم در مایپو هم‌دیگ� را می‌شناختیم� گفتم با هم دوست بودیم؛ مدت زیادی به من نگاه کرد؛ هیچ نگفتم و نجنبیدم که خوب نگاه کند؛ منتظر ماندن برای شناخته شدن، حس غریبی است، عاقبت گفت: «می‌دون� کی هستی؛ من کلائودیا نیستم؛ «خیمه� نا» هستم، خواهر کلائودیا؛ شما هم همون پسری هستی، که اون‌ش� دمبالم کرده بود؛ شما علا‌ءالدی� هستی؛ کلائودیا این اسمو روت گذاشته بود؛ هروقت یادت می‌افتادیم� خنده� مون می‌گرفت� علاءالدین.»؛ نمی‌دانست� چه بگویم؛ به� تلخی فهمیدم درست است، «خیمه� نا» همان زنی است که سال‌ه� پیش تعقیبش کردم: معشوقه� ی فرضی رائول؛ البته کلائودیا هیچ‌وق� به من نگفت خواهرش است؛ وزنی بر شانه� ام سنگینی می‌کرد� دنبال جمله� ای درخور بودم؛ به� صدایی ضعیف گفتم: «می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو ببینم.»؛ «من فک کردم شما دمبال گربه می‌گردی� اونم گربه� ی ماده.»؛ گفتم: «اون که آره؛ اما تو این سالا خیلی به اون دوره تو مایپو فکر کرده‌م� می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو دوباره ببینم.»؛ نگاه خیره� ی «خیمه‌نا� باری از معاندت داشت؛ هیچ نمی‌گفت� من حرف می‌زدم� عصبی درباره� ی گذشته و میل به اعاده� ی گذشته جمله می‌بافت�
خیمه� نا گفت: «نمی‌دون� چرا می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو ببینی؛ بعید می‌دون� هیچ� وقت بتونی زندگی ما رو درک کنی؛ اون وقتا مردم دمبال گم‌شده� هاشون بودن، دمبال جسد آدمایی بودن که مفقود شده بودن؛ شک ندارم تو اون روزا هم مثل حالا دمبال بچه� گربه و توله� سگ بودی.»؛ نمی‌فهمید� چرا این‌طو� پرخاش می‌کند� به� نظرم رفتارش بی‌دلی� و پراغراق بود؛ با این� همه خیمه‌ن� شماره� ی تلفه‌فون‌ا� را یادداشت کرد، و گفت: «وقتی اومد به� اش می‌د�.»؛ «فک می‌کنی� کی بیاد؟»؛ گفت: «هر لحظه ممکنه بیاد؛ بابام داره می‌میره� وفتی بمیره خواهرجون از یانکی� آباد می‌آ� که بالای سر مرده� اش گریه کنه، و سهم� اشو از ارث بگیره.» به� نظرم ایالات متحده� آمریکا را «یانکی� آباد» نامیدن مضحک و خام آمد، و ضمناً بی‌درن� یاد گفت‌وگ� با کلائودیا درباره� ی پرچم‌ه� در معبد مایپو افتادم؛ به خودم گفتم دست سرنوشت سرانجام او را به کشوری برده است که در کودکی آن را خوار و پست می‌شمرد� به خودم گفتم دیگر باید بروم اما نمی‌توانست� سئوآل آخری را که در ذهن داشتم و سئوآلی مودبانه بود، نپرسم: «دون رائول حال‌شو� چه� طوره؟»؛ «من نمی‌دون� دون رائول حال‌شو� چه� طوره؛ اما بابام داره می‌میره� دیگه خدافظ علاءالدین؛ تو نمی‌فهمی� هیچ‌وق� هیچ‌چ� نمی‌فهمی� پررو!»)؛ پایان نقل
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 17/04/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 31/02/1401هجری خوشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی
A young boy plays hide and seek in the suburbs of Santiago, unaware that his neighbors are becoming entangled in the brutality of Pinochet's regime. Then one night a mysterious girl appears in his neighborhood and makes a life-changing request.
تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز بیست و سوم ماه آوریل سال2016میلادی
عنوان: راه های برگشتن به خانه؛ نویسنده: آلخاندرو (آله خاندرو) سامبرا؛ مترجم ونداد جلیلی؛ تهران، نشر چشمه، سال1394، در145 ص؛ شابک9786002293749؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان اسپانیا - سده21م
کتاب «راه های برگشتن به خانه» را «ونداد خلیلی» از نسخه ی برگردان انگلیسی با عنوان بالا، به فارسی برگردانده اند؛ «راهها� برگشتن به خانه» به مسئاله� ی نسل جوان «شیلی» امروزین، و مشکلات اقلیت‌های� می‌پردازد� که همگی خواسته هاشان را، حل� شده نمی‌دانند� و هنوز هم زندگی دشواری دارند، آنها نمی‌گذارن� دیگران بجای آنها بیندیشند، هنوز از موهبت دردناک استفاده� ی خواسته و ناخواسته، از ابزار «تردید» در تفکر، برخوردار هستند، و بین دو جبهه� ی «این‌طرفی»� و «آن‌طرفی� گرفتار مانده� اند، داستان اما، داستانی عاشقانه است
نقل نمونه متن: (یک روز عصر تصمیم گرفتم زنگ خانه را بزنم؛ وقتی دیدم همان زن می‌آید� که در را باز کند، گرخیدم؛ چون تازه متوجه شدم، هیچ برنامه� ای ندارم، و اصلاً نمی‌دان� خودم را معرفی بکنم یا نکنم؛ به� لکنت گفتم: گربه� ام را گم کرده� ام؛ اسم گربه را از من پرسید، و جوابی نداشتم؛ پرسید: گربه چه� شکلی است؛ گفتم گربه نر است، سیاه، سفید و قهوه� ای است؛ زن گفت: «پس نر نیس، ماده اس.»؛ گفتم: «نره.»؛ گفت: «اگه سه� رنگه نر نیس؛ گربه� ی سه� رنگ ماده اس.»؛ و بعد گفت نر یا ماده، این روزها در محله، گربه� ی بی‌صاح� ندیده است؛ رفت تو و آمد در را ببندد، که تقریباً فریادزنان گفتم: «کلائودیا!»؛
پرسید: «شما؟»؛ خودم را معرفی کردم؛ گفتم در مایپو هم‌دیگ� را می‌شناختیم� گفتم با هم دوست بودیم؛ مدت زیادی به من نگاه کرد؛ هیچ نگفتم و نجنبیدم که خوب نگاه کند؛ منتظر ماندن برای شناخته شدن، حس غریبی است، عاقبت گفت: «می‌دون� کی هستی؛ من کلائودیا نیستم؛ «خیمه� نا» هستم، خواهر کلائودیا؛ شما هم همون پسری هستی، که اون‌ش� دمبالم کرده بود؛ شما علا‌ءالدی� هستی؛ کلائودیا این اسمو روت گذاشته بود؛ هروقت یادت می‌افتادیم� خنده� مون می‌گرفت� علاءالدین.»؛ نمی‌دانست� چه بگویم؛ به� تلخی فهمیدم درست است، «خیمه� نا» همان زنی است که سال‌ه� پیش تعقیبش کردم: معشوقه� ی فرضی رائول؛ البته کلائودیا هیچ‌وق� به من نگفت خواهرش است؛ وزنی بر شانه� ام سنگینی می‌کرد� دنبال جمله� ای درخور بودم؛ به� صدایی ضعیف گفتم: «می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو ببینم.»؛ «من فک کردم شما دمبال گربه می‌گردی� اونم گربه� ی ماده.»؛ گفتم: «اون که آره؛ اما تو این سالا خیلی به اون دوره تو مایپو فکر کرده‌م� می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو دوباره ببینم.»؛ نگاه خیره� ی «خیمه‌نا� باری از معاندت داشت؛ هیچ نمی‌گفت� من حرف می‌زدم� عصبی درباره� ی گذشته و میل به اعاده� ی گذشته جمله می‌بافت�
خیمه� نا گفت: «نمی‌دون� چرا می‌خوا� کلائودیا رو ببینی؛ بعید می‌دون� هیچ� وقت بتونی زندگی ما رو درک کنی؛ اون وقتا مردم دمبال گم‌شده� هاشون بودن، دمبال جسد آدمایی بودن که مفقود شده بودن؛ شک ندارم تو اون روزا هم مثل حالا دمبال بچه� گربه و توله� سگ بودی.»؛ نمی‌فهمید� چرا این‌طو� پرخاش می‌کند� به� نظرم رفتارش بی‌دلی� و پراغراق بود؛ با این� همه خیمه‌ن� شماره� ی تلفه‌فون‌ا� را یادداشت کرد، و گفت: «وقتی اومد به� اش می‌د�.»؛ «فک می‌کنی� کی بیاد؟»؛ گفت: «هر لحظه ممکنه بیاد؛ بابام داره می‌میره� وفتی بمیره خواهرجون از یانکی� آباد می‌آ� که بالای سر مرده� اش گریه کنه، و سهم� اشو از ارث بگیره.» به� نظرم ایالات متحده� آمریکا را «یانکی� آباد» نامیدن مضحک و خام آمد، و ضمناً بی‌درن� یاد گفت‌وگ� با کلائودیا درباره� ی پرچم‌ه� در معبد مایپو افتادم؛ به خودم گفتم دست سرنوشت سرانجام او را به کشوری برده است که در کودکی آن را خوار و پست می‌شمرد� به خودم گفتم دیگر باید بروم اما نمی‌توانست� سئوآل آخری را که در ذهن داشتم و سئوآلی مودبانه بود، نپرسم: «دون رائول حال‌شو� چه� طوره؟»؛ «من نمی‌دون� دون رائول حال‌شو� چه� طوره؛ اما بابام داره می‌میره� دیگه خدافظ علاءالدین؛ تو نمی‌فهمی� هیچ‌وق� هیچ‌چ� نمی‌فهمی� پررو!»)؛ پایان نقل
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 17/04/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 31/02/1401هجری خوشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی
January 25, 2025
The protagonist of this novel belongs to the generation that grew up under Chile's Pinochet dictatorship. They learned and grew during that tumultuous period, with parents who were either complicit in or victims of the authoritarian regime. The novel is divided into 4 sections, shifting between the characters and the author, the past and the present, fiction and reality.
Regardless of whether parents were overindulgent or neglectful, they ultimately couldn't protect their children. And whether children stayed or left, they couldn't stay with their parents forever. Silence was common, a legacy of the dictatorship. The generational gap widened further with this additional silence.
Considered one of the most important Chilean writers after Bolaño, Alejandro Zambra (born in 1975) represents a new generation. His writing, while not as polished as Bolaño's, is marked by a restrained passion. Perhaps this restraint is due to the lack of openness in his generation.
In this novel, the "ways home" are numerous. These aren't literal paths but rather the means by which one seeks to return home, paths that lead nowhere, like wandering forever at the foot of Kafka's castle. Only in this case, the castle is an invisible one, constructed by ordinary families and parents influenced by a generation of dictatorship.
Zambra offers several ways of returning home in the novel: through memories, by returning like a wanderer, or by making love to one's girlfriend in one's parents' home. However, he reveals the dubious nature of the homecoming journey from the very beginning: ”When I was six or seven, I got lost from my parents and found my way home alone. My mother said, ‘You took a wrong turn.� But I felt it was my parents who had gotten lost, thinking, ‘It’s you who took a different path.’� The rift cannot be bridged by the journey home.
Even the parents' journey home is questionable. They grew up amid atrocities, watching good people turn bad, unable to distinguish between right and wrong. Their childhood belonged to the organization; answers were memorized, and love for the family was questioned. I'm still trying to understand if I'm going through the same separation as my parents, but in a different way. We need to see clearly again, we need to record.
The 1973 Chilean coup, supported by the US, has been overshadowed by the 911 attacks.
As a young writer of a new generation, this book deserves at least 4 stars. Zambra’s understated narrative, longing to return home but unable to, evokes a similar feeling to books like "The Angel at the Window" and the French version of "Wonder Years."
Using the perspective of a generation that wasn't even alive at the time, this novel narrates the events and people of that era with a different but similar value system. This kind of story is more to my taste.
Because our parents never showed us their true selves, and we never really observed our parents' faces.
I would rather live in that era, stay in the past, and indulge in nostalgia.
Because there's a way home there.
But that era is gone forever.
3.7 / 5 stars
Regardless of whether parents were overindulgent or neglectful, they ultimately couldn't protect their children. And whether children stayed or left, they couldn't stay with their parents forever. Silence was common, a legacy of the dictatorship. The generational gap widened further with this additional silence.
Considered one of the most important Chilean writers after Bolaño, Alejandro Zambra (born in 1975) represents a new generation. His writing, while not as polished as Bolaño's, is marked by a restrained passion. Perhaps this restraint is due to the lack of openness in his generation.
In this novel, the "ways home" are numerous. These aren't literal paths but rather the means by which one seeks to return home, paths that lead nowhere, like wandering forever at the foot of Kafka's castle. Only in this case, the castle is an invisible one, constructed by ordinary families and parents influenced by a generation of dictatorship.
Zambra offers several ways of returning home in the novel: through memories, by returning like a wanderer, or by making love to one's girlfriend in one's parents' home. However, he reveals the dubious nature of the homecoming journey from the very beginning: ”When I was six or seven, I got lost from my parents and found my way home alone. My mother said, ‘You took a wrong turn.� But I felt it was my parents who had gotten lost, thinking, ‘It’s you who took a different path.’� The rift cannot be bridged by the journey home.
Even the parents' journey home is questionable. They grew up amid atrocities, watching good people turn bad, unable to distinguish between right and wrong. Their childhood belonged to the organization; answers were memorized, and love for the family was questioned. I'm still trying to understand if I'm going through the same separation as my parents, but in a different way. We need to see clearly again, we need to record.
The 1973 Chilean coup, supported by the US, has been overshadowed by the 911 attacks.
As a young writer of a new generation, this book deserves at least 4 stars. Zambra’s understated narrative, longing to return home but unable to, evokes a similar feeling to books like "The Angel at the Window" and the French version of "Wonder Years."
Using the perspective of a generation that wasn't even alive at the time, this novel narrates the events and people of that era with a different but similar value system. This kind of story is more to my taste.
Because our parents never showed us their true selves, and we never really observed our parents' faces.
I would rather live in that era, stay in the past, and indulge in nostalgia.
Because there's a way home there.
But that era is gone forever.
3.7 / 5 stars
June 3, 2013
Zambra does a masterful job in this novel giving voice of the experiences of a silent group in Chile -- the generation that grew up under Pinochet's rule, living their childhoods in the shadow of a brutal dictatorship. Zambra reveals the uneasy balance between children's worlds of games and school and friends and parental rules, on the one hand, and those moments when the adult reality of politics and fear and frustration and loss came in through the cracks. Adding a new twist, Zambra focuses particular attention on the experiences of children whose parents were supporters of Pinochet, even simply from their armchairs.
Zambra uses a metafictional frame to explore these experiences and genrational tensions, as he develops a story within a story: one narrator is telling his experiences writing a novel with narrator who, like him, grew up under Pinochet and now is trying to untangle the generational tensions and confusions that complicate his relationship with his parents. Zambra develops this structure masterfully, and in the process provides his readers with important questions about the value and impact of storytelling, the attempts of a generation to grow into adulthood, and the complications surrounding their attempt to find their way home as children and as adults.
Below is my longer review for this book, which was posted at the California Literary Review:
In spite of being described by some critics as “the next Roberto Bolaño� Alejandro Zambra makes his own mark in his third novel, Ways of Going Home. Like Bolaño, Zambra was born in Santiago, Chile. However, he was born later, in 1975, part of a generation that spent its childhood under Pinochet’s rule. In Ways of Going Home, Zambra depicts childhood experiences of trying to understand the cryptic comments and peculiar actions of adults, in an atmosphere where children’s simple pleasures � such as going to watch a soccer match at a municipal stadium � bring back memories of terror, incarcerations, and disappeared loved ones for their parents and neighbors. Perhaps more chillingly, Zambra also explores the other side of the Chilean experience of Pinochet’s rule � what happens when your parents sided for Pinochet, if not actively, passively, while watching TV and living their lives behind closed doors in Chilean suburbs? Is it possible to tell your story, your parents� story, in an effort to understand, to meet them on equal footing? Zambra’s fictional narrator writes, “I thought about my mother, my father. I thought: What kinds of faces do my parents have? But our parents never really have faces. We never learn to truly look at them.� Ways of Going Home is a mirror Zambra holds up to his generation’s parents, in an effort to see them clearly, to make sense of a past that is not clearly shown in documentaries and books about Chile, and in so doing to navigate his way forward as an adult.
The novel’s title is apt. Zambra skillfully weaves many ways of coming home, all of them entangled in the misunderstandings, connections, and tensions between generations. In the novel’s opening lines, Zambra describes one such event in the life of the fictional narrator:
Once, I got lost. I was six or seven. I got distracted, and all of a sudden I couldn’t see my parents anymore. I was scared, but I immediately found the way home and got there before they did. They kept looking for me, desperate, but I thought that they were lost. That I knew how to get home and they didn’t.
“You went a different way,� my mother said later, angry, her eyes still swollen.
You were the ones who went a different way, I thought, but I didn’t say it.
Zambra provides many different examples of coming home: as a lost child, as an adult visiting his parents, as an adult mourning her parents, as an act of memory, as a step towards understanding, as a confrontation, as an act of love. He threads these homecomings throughout the novel, through past and present, fiction and memory. And throughout, he questions parents� ability to know the way forward. They are not omniscient, and neither are their children. Zambra eloquently represents a very human fumbling to understand the past and the present, to determine the correct path to follow into the future.
Ways of Going Home is above all a novel about stories and the power of telling those stories as a means of understanding, of navigating memories and relationships and coming through the process with some sense of direction for the future. Zambra develops a metafictional structure for the novel, as he moves between telling the fictionalized story of our narrator, and framing it with the story of the author of that story. This author in turn sifts through memories and former relationships in an attempt to come to terms with the past � his past, his parents� past, and their place in Chile’s past.
Throughout the novel, the author and the narrator both describe their childhood place as secondary characters, living in the shadows of adults� decisions and conflicts. The author first introduces secondary characters as the focus of his studies in literature classes as a child. As described by the author,
Every test had a section of character identification, which included only secondary characters: the less relevant the characters, the more likely we would be asked about them, so we memorized names resignedly, though with the pleasure of guaranteed points� There was a certain beauty in the act, because back then we were exactly that: secondary characters, hundreds of children who crisscrossed the city lugging denim backpacks. The neighbors would test the weight and always make the same joke: “What are you carrying in there, rocks?� Downtown Santiago welcomed us with tear gas bombs, but we weren’t carrying rocks, we were carrying bricks by Baldor or Villee or Flaubert.
As the narrator and the author look back on their childhood experiences as adults, they question how they can emerge from this role of being secondary characters. How can they take a place in the world in which they are responsible and central, as opposed to being irrelevant and marginal?
Zambra’s exploration of the power of stories resonates with other manifestations of the centrality of stories in Chile, particularly the witness paid by friends and relatives to the torture, kidnapping, and murder of their friends and relatives by Pinochet’s regime. In his case, though, the witness he bears is to a parallel existence experienced by some children during the regime, as seen in these passages from the perspective of the narrator,
Back then I was, as I always have been, and I always will be, for Colo-Colo. As for Pinochet, to me he was a television personality who hosted a show with no fixed schedule, and I hated him for that, for the stuffy national channels that interrupted their programming during the best parts. Later I hated him for being a son of a bitch, for being a murderer, but back then I hated him only for those inconvenient shows that Dad watched without saying a word, without acceding any movement other than a more forceful drag on the cigarette he always had glued to his lips.
Now I don’t understand that freedom we enjoyed. We lived under a dictatorship; people talked about crimes and attacks, martial law and curfew, but even so, nothing kept me from spending all day wandering far from home. Weren’t the streets of Maipú dangerous then? At night they were, and during the day as well, but the adults played, arrogantly or innocently—or with a mixture of arrogance and innocence—at ignoring the danger. They played at thinking that discontent was a thing of the poor and power the domain of the rich, and in those streets no one was poor or rich, at least not yet.
Even for children whose parents suffered the loss of loved ones under Pinochet, their childhood was marked by a strong sense of invisibility, of being secondary, even trivial. The author’s estranged wife Eme describes one such scene:
She was seven or eight years old, in the yard with other little girls, playing hide-and-seek. It was getting late, time to go inside; the adults were calling and the girls answered that they were coming. The push and pull went on, the calls were more and more urgent, but the girls laughed and kept playing.
Suddenly they realized the adults had stopped calling them a while ago and night had already fallen. They thought the adults must be watching them, trying to teach them a lesson, and that now the grown-ups were the ones playing hide-and-seek. But no. When she went inside, Eme saw that her father’s friends were crying and that her mother, rooted to her seat, was staring off into space. They were listening to the news on the radio. A voice was talking about a raid. It talked about the dead, about more dead.
“That happened so many times,� Eme said that day, five years ago. “We kids understood, all of a sudden, that we weren’t so important. That there were unfathomable and serious things that we couldn’t know or understand.�
The author continues this section with a passage that exemplifies the conflicts he and his peers faced in childhood, “The novel belongs to our parents, I thought then, I think now. That’s what we grew up believing, that the novel belonged to our parents. We cursed them, and also took refuge in their shadows, relieved. While the adults killed or were killed, we drew pictures in a corner. While the country was falling to pieces, we were learning to talk, to walk, to fold napkins in the shape of boats, of airplanes. While the novel was happening, we played hide-and-seek, we played at disappearing.�
In essence, Ways of Going Home is Zambra’s attempt to put his generation at the center of the novel he is writing. The novel’s metafictional structure provides Zambra with a platform to explore the process of writing his way to understanding his past, while also conveying the many challenges posed by this effort. In addition to trying to see his parents clearly, the author also is trying to understand his own efforts clearly, as seen in a passage late in the novel,
Today my friend Pablo called me so he could read me this phrase he found in a book by Tim O’Brien: “What sticks to memory, often, are those odd little fragments that have no beginning and no end.� I kept thinking about that and stayed awake all night. It’s true. We remember the sounds of the images. And sometimes, when we write, we wash everything clean, as if by doing so we could advance toward something. We ought to simply describe those sounds, those stains on memory. That arbitrary selection, nothing more. That’s why we lie so much, in the end. That’s why a book is always the opposite of another immense and strange book. An illegible and genuine book that we translate treacherously, that we betray with our habit of passable prose.
In Ways of Going Home, Zambra is stepping out from the shadows of his childhood. He writes eloquently, intertwining memories, reflections, acts, and consequences of these acts for his characters. The structure of the novel is complex, and requires careful reading to trace the interconnections of the storylines and themes. It is also engaging, particularly in Zambra’s refusal to accept simple answers to understand the past or how to engage with the past in the present. If he is critical of adults� decisions in the past, he is also critical of his generation. This novel provides valuable insight into the experiences of a generation of Chileans. However, its relevance is not confined to understanding Chile. In his exploration of generational conflict and connection, Zambra provides his readers with a touchstone to their own struggles coming home to their parents in a way that is honest and human.
Zambra uses a metafictional frame to explore these experiences and genrational tensions, as he develops a story within a story: one narrator is telling his experiences writing a novel with narrator who, like him, grew up under Pinochet and now is trying to untangle the generational tensions and confusions that complicate his relationship with his parents. Zambra develops this structure masterfully, and in the process provides his readers with important questions about the value and impact of storytelling, the attempts of a generation to grow into adulthood, and the complications surrounding their attempt to find their way home as children and as adults.
Below is my longer review for this book, which was posted at the California Literary Review:
In spite of being described by some critics as “the next Roberto Bolaño� Alejandro Zambra makes his own mark in his third novel, Ways of Going Home. Like Bolaño, Zambra was born in Santiago, Chile. However, he was born later, in 1975, part of a generation that spent its childhood under Pinochet’s rule. In Ways of Going Home, Zambra depicts childhood experiences of trying to understand the cryptic comments and peculiar actions of adults, in an atmosphere where children’s simple pleasures � such as going to watch a soccer match at a municipal stadium � bring back memories of terror, incarcerations, and disappeared loved ones for their parents and neighbors. Perhaps more chillingly, Zambra also explores the other side of the Chilean experience of Pinochet’s rule � what happens when your parents sided for Pinochet, if not actively, passively, while watching TV and living their lives behind closed doors in Chilean suburbs? Is it possible to tell your story, your parents� story, in an effort to understand, to meet them on equal footing? Zambra’s fictional narrator writes, “I thought about my mother, my father. I thought: What kinds of faces do my parents have? But our parents never really have faces. We never learn to truly look at them.� Ways of Going Home is a mirror Zambra holds up to his generation’s parents, in an effort to see them clearly, to make sense of a past that is not clearly shown in documentaries and books about Chile, and in so doing to navigate his way forward as an adult.
The novel’s title is apt. Zambra skillfully weaves many ways of coming home, all of them entangled in the misunderstandings, connections, and tensions between generations. In the novel’s opening lines, Zambra describes one such event in the life of the fictional narrator:
Once, I got lost. I was six or seven. I got distracted, and all of a sudden I couldn’t see my parents anymore. I was scared, but I immediately found the way home and got there before they did. They kept looking for me, desperate, but I thought that they were lost. That I knew how to get home and they didn’t.
“You went a different way,� my mother said later, angry, her eyes still swollen.
You were the ones who went a different way, I thought, but I didn’t say it.
Zambra provides many different examples of coming home: as a lost child, as an adult visiting his parents, as an adult mourning her parents, as an act of memory, as a step towards understanding, as a confrontation, as an act of love. He threads these homecomings throughout the novel, through past and present, fiction and memory. And throughout, he questions parents� ability to know the way forward. They are not omniscient, and neither are their children. Zambra eloquently represents a very human fumbling to understand the past and the present, to determine the correct path to follow into the future.
Ways of Going Home is above all a novel about stories and the power of telling those stories as a means of understanding, of navigating memories and relationships and coming through the process with some sense of direction for the future. Zambra develops a metafictional structure for the novel, as he moves between telling the fictionalized story of our narrator, and framing it with the story of the author of that story. This author in turn sifts through memories and former relationships in an attempt to come to terms with the past � his past, his parents� past, and their place in Chile’s past.
Throughout the novel, the author and the narrator both describe their childhood place as secondary characters, living in the shadows of adults� decisions and conflicts. The author first introduces secondary characters as the focus of his studies in literature classes as a child. As described by the author,
Every test had a section of character identification, which included only secondary characters: the less relevant the characters, the more likely we would be asked about them, so we memorized names resignedly, though with the pleasure of guaranteed points� There was a certain beauty in the act, because back then we were exactly that: secondary characters, hundreds of children who crisscrossed the city lugging denim backpacks. The neighbors would test the weight and always make the same joke: “What are you carrying in there, rocks?� Downtown Santiago welcomed us with tear gas bombs, but we weren’t carrying rocks, we were carrying bricks by Baldor or Villee or Flaubert.
As the narrator and the author look back on their childhood experiences as adults, they question how they can emerge from this role of being secondary characters. How can they take a place in the world in which they are responsible and central, as opposed to being irrelevant and marginal?
Zambra’s exploration of the power of stories resonates with other manifestations of the centrality of stories in Chile, particularly the witness paid by friends and relatives to the torture, kidnapping, and murder of their friends and relatives by Pinochet’s regime. In his case, though, the witness he bears is to a parallel existence experienced by some children during the regime, as seen in these passages from the perspective of the narrator,
Back then I was, as I always have been, and I always will be, for Colo-Colo. As for Pinochet, to me he was a television personality who hosted a show with no fixed schedule, and I hated him for that, for the stuffy national channels that interrupted their programming during the best parts. Later I hated him for being a son of a bitch, for being a murderer, but back then I hated him only for those inconvenient shows that Dad watched without saying a word, without acceding any movement other than a more forceful drag on the cigarette he always had glued to his lips.
Now I don’t understand that freedom we enjoyed. We lived under a dictatorship; people talked about crimes and attacks, martial law and curfew, but even so, nothing kept me from spending all day wandering far from home. Weren’t the streets of Maipú dangerous then? At night they were, and during the day as well, but the adults played, arrogantly or innocently—or with a mixture of arrogance and innocence—at ignoring the danger. They played at thinking that discontent was a thing of the poor and power the domain of the rich, and in those streets no one was poor or rich, at least not yet.
Even for children whose parents suffered the loss of loved ones under Pinochet, their childhood was marked by a strong sense of invisibility, of being secondary, even trivial. The author’s estranged wife Eme describes one such scene:
She was seven or eight years old, in the yard with other little girls, playing hide-and-seek. It was getting late, time to go inside; the adults were calling and the girls answered that they were coming. The push and pull went on, the calls were more and more urgent, but the girls laughed and kept playing.
Suddenly they realized the adults had stopped calling them a while ago and night had already fallen. They thought the adults must be watching them, trying to teach them a lesson, and that now the grown-ups were the ones playing hide-and-seek. But no. When she went inside, Eme saw that her father’s friends were crying and that her mother, rooted to her seat, was staring off into space. They were listening to the news on the radio. A voice was talking about a raid. It talked about the dead, about more dead.
“That happened so many times,� Eme said that day, five years ago. “We kids understood, all of a sudden, that we weren’t so important. That there were unfathomable and serious things that we couldn’t know or understand.�
The author continues this section with a passage that exemplifies the conflicts he and his peers faced in childhood, “The novel belongs to our parents, I thought then, I think now. That’s what we grew up believing, that the novel belonged to our parents. We cursed them, and also took refuge in their shadows, relieved. While the adults killed or were killed, we drew pictures in a corner. While the country was falling to pieces, we were learning to talk, to walk, to fold napkins in the shape of boats, of airplanes. While the novel was happening, we played hide-and-seek, we played at disappearing.�
In essence, Ways of Going Home is Zambra’s attempt to put his generation at the center of the novel he is writing. The novel’s metafictional structure provides Zambra with a platform to explore the process of writing his way to understanding his past, while also conveying the many challenges posed by this effort. In addition to trying to see his parents clearly, the author also is trying to understand his own efforts clearly, as seen in a passage late in the novel,
Today my friend Pablo called me so he could read me this phrase he found in a book by Tim O’Brien: “What sticks to memory, often, are those odd little fragments that have no beginning and no end.� I kept thinking about that and stayed awake all night. It’s true. We remember the sounds of the images. And sometimes, when we write, we wash everything clean, as if by doing so we could advance toward something. We ought to simply describe those sounds, those stains on memory. That arbitrary selection, nothing more. That’s why we lie so much, in the end. That’s why a book is always the opposite of another immense and strange book. An illegible and genuine book that we translate treacherously, that we betray with our habit of passable prose.
In Ways of Going Home, Zambra is stepping out from the shadows of his childhood. He writes eloquently, intertwining memories, reflections, acts, and consequences of these acts for his characters. The structure of the novel is complex, and requires careful reading to trace the interconnections of the storylines and themes. It is also engaging, particularly in Zambra’s refusal to accept simple answers to understand the past or how to engage with the past in the present. If he is critical of adults� decisions in the past, he is also critical of his generation. This novel provides valuable insight into the experiences of a generation of Chileans. However, its relevance is not confined to understanding Chile. In his exploration of generational conflict and connection, Zambra provides his readers with a touchstone to their own struggles coming home to their parents in a way that is honest and human.
June 12, 2023
Our story starts with two neighborhood kids in Chile during the time of the Pinochet military dictatorship (1973-1990). They live in a middle-class development in a suburb of Santiago. They are living in tents on community ground for a few days after an earthquake. There was little damage in their area but they don’t want to risk being in their apartments during the aftershocks. It turns into an almost festive event with neighbors drinking wine and getting to meet each other while the kids gather around a bonfire.
Initially our main characters are a 12-year-old girl and a 9-year-old boy who hardly knew each other before the quake. There's a lot of ‘spying� going on. The boy feels the girl is spying on him, and later, he enthusiastically accepts her charge to spy on another neighbor - a single man who lives next door to the girl. He follows the man around and reports back to the girl, even following male and female visitors to the strange man’s house. So we have a mystery about what is her interest in spying on this neighbor.
The boy hears snippets of political conversation among adults. He’s uncertain about his father’s political leanings. It turns out this story is a type of Latin American ‘political terror� story like others I have read. These stories have a theme of the impact of political violence on the youngest generation at that time period - kids who grew up with strange things going on and not understanding them at the time, only realizing what was going on years later. (Examples of other novels where the focus is on the impact of Latin American political violence on youth growing up at the time include set in Chile and set in Colombia.)
It's a meta-novel, or perhaps it can be called meta-writing. We hear from the fictitious author on occasion, things like “I like that my characters don't have last names. It's a relief.� It’s also like a meta-novel in that the author tells us about his feelings and his problems with writing the story that we read about at the beginning of the book. At times we don’t know if it’s Zambra the author speaking or the fictional author.
Later the fictitious writer is considering getting back with his ex-wife. They meet frequently and go to his apartment but don’t yet live together again. He talks with his ex- about this story and gives her drafts. He seems almost obsessed with her opinion of it.
We follow the two kids until he is 13 and she is 16. Pinochet is gone and the boy learns what all the spying was about. Much later in life the boy and girl, now young adults, meet again. Claudia is single, living in the US, and comes back to Chile for an extended visit. Will the main character finally develop a romance with this childhood friend he had a crush on as a kid?
Here are a couple of examples of Zambra’s good writing:
A friend from childhood visits the main character. “I like that he gives advice. Now that I think about it, there was a time when everyone gave advice. When life consisted of giving and receiving advice. But then all of a sudden, no one wanted any more advice.�
Claudia is talking about how when she left Chile to go to the US, she left her older sister alone to take care of their ailing father. The main character asks her if she feels guilty. “I don’t feel guilty,� she answers. “But I feel that lack of guilt as if it were guilt.�
A good story and good writing; good but not great. Still I intend to read more by this Chilean author. Zambra (b. 1975) has written five novels, all available in English translation. His best-known work is Bonsai. He gained notice first from his short stories published in magazines such as The New Yorker, Harper’s. The Paris Review and Granta.
Photo of the author from lithub.com
Revised 6/12/23
Initially our main characters are a 12-year-old girl and a 9-year-old boy who hardly knew each other before the quake. There's a lot of ‘spying� going on. The boy feels the girl is spying on him, and later, he enthusiastically accepts her charge to spy on another neighbor - a single man who lives next door to the girl. He follows the man around and reports back to the girl, even following male and female visitors to the strange man’s house. So we have a mystery about what is her interest in spying on this neighbor.
The boy hears snippets of political conversation among adults. He’s uncertain about his father’s political leanings. It turns out this story is a type of Latin American ‘political terror� story like others I have read. These stories have a theme of the impact of political violence on the youngest generation at that time period - kids who grew up with strange things going on and not understanding them at the time, only realizing what was going on years later. (Examples of other novels where the focus is on the impact of Latin American political violence on youth growing up at the time include set in Chile and set in Colombia.)
It's a meta-novel, or perhaps it can be called meta-writing. We hear from the fictitious author on occasion, things like “I like that my characters don't have last names. It's a relief.� It’s also like a meta-novel in that the author tells us about his feelings and his problems with writing the story that we read about at the beginning of the book. At times we don’t know if it’s Zambra the author speaking or the fictional author.
Later the fictitious writer is considering getting back with his ex-wife. They meet frequently and go to his apartment but don’t yet live together again. He talks with his ex- about this story and gives her drafts. He seems almost obsessed with her opinion of it.
We follow the two kids until he is 13 and she is 16. Pinochet is gone and the boy learns what all the spying was about. Much later in life the boy and girl, now young adults, meet again. Claudia is single, living in the US, and comes back to Chile for an extended visit. Will the main character finally develop a romance with this childhood friend he had a crush on as a kid?
Here are a couple of examples of Zambra’s good writing:
A friend from childhood visits the main character. “I like that he gives advice. Now that I think about it, there was a time when everyone gave advice. When life consisted of giving and receiving advice. But then all of a sudden, no one wanted any more advice.�
Claudia is talking about how when she left Chile to go to the US, she left her older sister alone to take care of their ailing father. The main character asks her if she feels guilty. “I don’t feel guilty,� she answers. “But I feel that lack of guilt as if it were guilt.�
A good story and good writing; good but not great. Still I intend to read more by this Chilean author. Zambra (b. 1975) has written five novels, all available in English translation. His best-known work is Bonsai. He gained notice first from his short stories published in magazines such as The New Yorker, Harper’s. The Paris Review and Granta.
Photo of the author from lithub.com
Revised 6/12/23
July 9, 2019
"Eve nasıl dönülür"ün cevabını birkaç farklı yolla veriyor Zambra. Ve bu yolların hepsi de hem kaybolmak kadar basit hem de evin yolunu bilen birinin kaybolması kadar ironik.
Şili depremiyle bizi yıllar önceye götürmüşken, birden kitabın yazılma serüvenini anlatmaya başlıyor, sürpriz içinde sürpriz yapıyor. Çok büyük travmaları izah etmeyi, tertemiz bir dille, betimlemeye baş vurmadan, kaybolmak kadar kolay beceriyor Zambra. Okurken, bize de bir kere kaybolduysak eve son kez nasıl geri döneceğimizi sorgulatıyor. Bana sorarsanız Zambra da kaybolmuş ve bu kitabı yazmak da eve dönmenin yolunu bulabilmesi icin oynadığı son koz. Bana yolumu şaşırtıp şaşırtıp buldurdu Eve Dönmenin Yolları'nı okurken. Hele ablasına yazdığı, kitapta neden olmadığını anlatırkenki bölüm muazzamdı. Artık olmayan ve anılarıyla birlikte yıkılmış koca bir evin düğümünü yutkunmaya çalışarak okudum.
Okuyun, tereddütsüz tavsiye ederim.
Şili depremiyle bizi yıllar önceye götürmüşken, birden kitabın yazılma serüvenini anlatmaya başlıyor, sürpriz içinde sürpriz yapıyor. Çok büyük travmaları izah etmeyi, tertemiz bir dille, betimlemeye baş vurmadan, kaybolmak kadar kolay beceriyor Zambra. Okurken, bize de bir kere kaybolduysak eve son kez nasıl geri döneceğimizi sorgulatıyor. Bana sorarsanız Zambra da kaybolmuş ve bu kitabı yazmak da eve dönmenin yolunu bulabilmesi icin oynadığı son koz. Bana yolumu şaşırtıp şaşırtıp buldurdu Eve Dönmenin Yolları'nı okurken. Hele ablasına yazdığı, kitapta neden olmadığını anlatırkenki bölüm muazzamdı. Artık olmayan ve anılarıyla birlikte yıkılmış koca bir evin düğümünü yutkunmaya çalışarak okudum.
Okuyun, tereddütsüz tavsiye ederim.
December 19, 2018
Leer, subrayar, re-leer, no olvidar.
Han pasado un par de horas desde que terminé esta novela y aún veo algunas escenas flotando, en la retina, como imágenes en cámara lenta que se rehúsan a abandonarme. Pienso en los papás del narrador, en sus viajes en micro, en su reencuentro con una amiga de infancia, en las conversaciones de sobremesa. En fin, son imágenes sencillas, que bien podrían lucir actuales, pero que, en su momento, me transportaron al Chile de los años 80, el Chile post-terremoto del '85 que no conocí, pero que, tras leer, siento haber visitado. Es ese Chile que todavía tendría que resistir unos cuántos años la dictadura.
Hay algo en la escritura de Zambra que, por un lado, nos impulsa a seguir y seguir leyendo y, por otro, nos retiene en algunas frases, que debemos repasar sí o sí y que leemos como caminando por vidrios rotos, con mucho cuidado. Es una escritura muy sencilla con atisbos de poesía y de una belleza singular que poco se ve en otros narradores.
Por momentos, la novela se desarma, de manera rizomática, de tal manera que la experiencia de lectura se transforma en un ir y venir de recuerdos de infancia, interpolados por el presente del narrador (¿o es más bien el presente interpolado por la infancia?). Poco a poco la historia va juntando sus piezas en un relato más homogéneo, que pertenece a esa generación de adultos que, durante la infancia, entendía solo a medias lo que pasaba.
Lo que más me gusta de la narración es cómo se traza la ciudad, el Santiago más bien periférico, de barrios humildes, el de las casitas pareadas. Hay un interés por recordar con afecto -pero conciencia- esos espacios, las personas que vivían allí y el miedo que algunos vecinos sentían ante la persecución. El narrador está, de cierta manera, en un espacio privilegiado, aunque insiste en escribir para no olvidar lo que pasó. Su escritura es una manera de re-entender el pasado desde lo político.
Cuando sea el próximo terremoto, espero que el relato de la dictadura siga presente, incluso en la retina de las generaciones venideras, las de la posmemoria. Hay muchas citas que subrayé, pero me quedo con esta, que es la más bonita:
"Es tarde. Escribo. La ciudad convalece pero retoma de a poco el movimiento de una noche cualquiera al final del verano. Pienso ingenuamente, intensamente en el dolor. En la gente que murió hoy, en el sur. En los muertos de ayer, de mañana. Y en este oficio extraño, humilde y altivo, necesario e insuficiente: pasarse la vida mirando, escribiendo".
Han pasado un par de horas desde que terminé esta novela y aún veo algunas escenas flotando, en la retina, como imágenes en cámara lenta que se rehúsan a abandonarme. Pienso en los papás del narrador, en sus viajes en micro, en su reencuentro con una amiga de infancia, en las conversaciones de sobremesa. En fin, son imágenes sencillas, que bien podrían lucir actuales, pero que, en su momento, me transportaron al Chile de los años 80, el Chile post-terremoto del '85 que no conocí, pero que, tras leer, siento haber visitado. Es ese Chile que todavía tendría que resistir unos cuántos años la dictadura.
Hay algo en la escritura de Zambra que, por un lado, nos impulsa a seguir y seguir leyendo y, por otro, nos retiene en algunas frases, que debemos repasar sí o sí y que leemos como caminando por vidrios rotos, con mucho cuidado. Es una escritura muy sencilla con atisbos de poesía y de una belleza singular que poco se ve en otros narradores.
Por momentos, la novela se desarma, de manera rizomática, de tal manera que la experiencia de lectura se transforma en un ir y venir de recuerdos de infancia, interpolados por el presente del narrador (¿o es más bien el presente interpolado por la infancia?). Poco a poco la historia va juntando sus piezas en un relato más homogéneo, que pertenece a esa generación de adultos que, durante la infancia, entendía solo a medias lo que pasaba.
Lo que más me gusta de la narración es cómo se traza la ciudad, el Santiago más bien periférico, de barrios humildes, el de las casitas pareadas. Hay un interés por recordar con afecto -pero conciencia- esos espacios, las personas que vivían allí y el miedo que algunos vecinos sentían ante la persecución. El narrador está, de cierta manera, en un espacio privilegiado, aunque insiste en escribir para no olvidar lo que pasó. Su escritura es una manera de re-entender el pasado desde lo político.
Cuando sea el próximo terremoto, espero que el relato de la dictadura siga presente, incluso en la retina de las generaciones venideras, las de la posmemoria. Hay muchas citas que subrayé, pero me quedo con esta, que es la más bonita:
"Es tarde. Escribo. La ciudad convalece pero retoma de a poco el movimiento de una noche cualquiera al final del verano. Pienso ingenuamente, intensamente en el dolor. En la gente que murió hoy, en el sur. En los muertos de ayer, de mañana. Y en este oficio extraño, humilde y altivo, necesario e insuficiente: pasarse la vida mirando, escribiendo".
March 9, 2022
"Dün gece saatlerce yürüdüm. Yeni bir sokakta kaybolmak istiyor gibiydim. Mutluluk içinde tamamen kaybolmak. Ama kaybolamadığımız, kaybolmayı beceremediğimiz anlar vardır. Her ne kadar sürekli yanlış yönlere sapsak da. Bütün kerterizleri kaybetsek de. Geç olsa da ve yola devam ederken söken şafağın ağırlığını hissetsek de. Ne kadar uğraşsak da kaybolmayı beceremediğimiz, kaybolamadığımız anlar vardır. Ve belki de kaybolabildiğimiz zamana özlem duyarız. Bütün sokakların yeni olduğu zamana."
İlk iki Zambra romanından biraz daha farklı bir kitap Eve Dönmenin Yolları. Alıştığımız sakin, sade anlatımı yine devam ediyor. Süslü cümlelere, uzun betimlemelere ihtiyaç duymadan başkarakterin aklından geçenleri, duygularını sanki kafasının içindeymişiz gibi aktarıyor bize. Ama bu sefer konu sadece ilişkiler değil. Anlatıcının çocukluğunda gerçekleşen bir depremle başlayan roman bize Şili'de Pinochet diktatörlüğünün yaşattıklarını, o dönem çocuk olmanın ne demek olduğunu gösteriyor önce. Sonra hikaye ilerliyor, anlatıcıyla beraber biz de bazı şeylerin farkına varıyoruz. Anne babalarımızın romanlarında yan karakterleriz diyor Zambra, ama bu onlarla yüzleşmeyeceğimiz anlamına gelmiyor tabi.
Anlatıcı okuduğu kitaplardan, izlediği filmlerden ve belki de en önemlisi kendi hikayesinin yan karakterlerinden bahsediyor bol bol. Eve Dönmenin Yolları anlatıcı kadar bu yan karakterlerin -Claudia'nın, Eme'nin- de hikayesi. Okuruyla konuşan bir günlük havası roman boyunca devam ediyor. Ve farklı yollarla da olsa sürekli eve dönüyoruz; anne babamızı terk etsek de, onlar bizi terk etse de aksi mümkün değil galiba.
Zambra okumayı çok seviyorum.
İlk iki Zambra romanından biraz daha farklı bir kitap Eve Dönmenin Yolları. Alıştığımız sakin, sade anlatımı yine devam ediyor. Süslü cümlelere, uzun betimlemelere ihtiyaç duymadan başkarakterin aklından geçenleri, duygularını sanki kafasının içindeymişiz gibi aktarıyor bize. Ama bu sefer konu sadece ilişkiler değil. Anlatıcının çocukluğunda gerçekleşen bir depremle başlayan roman bize Şili'de Pinochet diktatörlüğünün yaşattıklarını, o dönem çocuk olmanın ne demek olduğunu gösteriyor önce. Sonra hikaye ilerliyor, anlatıcıyla beraber biz de bazı şeylerin farkına varıyoruz. Anne babalarımızın romanlarında yan karakterleriz diyor Zambra, ama bu onlarla yüzleşmeyeceğimiz anlamına gelmiyor tabi.
Anlatıcı okuduğu kitaplardan, izlediği filmlerden ve belki de en önemlisi kendi hikayesinin yan karakterlerinden bahsediyor bol bol. Eve Dönmenin Yolları anlatıcı kadar bu yan karakterlerin -Claudia'nın, Eme'nin- de hikayesi. Okuruyla konuşan bir günlük havası roman boyunca devam ediyor. Ve farklı yollarla da olsa sürekli eve dönüyoruz; anne babamızı terk etsek de, onlar bizi terk etse de aksi mümkün değil galiba.
Zambra okumayı çok seviyorum.
June 13, 2013
"Instead of screaming, I write books" R. Gary
This is a redemptive tribute to those who went missing during the Pinochet regime. To all those unknown names whose blood still runs through the veins of the silenced generation which was growing up during this elusive period in Chile.
Zambra’s unpretentious voice gets irretrievably tangled with the one narrating the story, a nameless writer, who simultaneously mirrors his life through his characters, creating a perfecty circled metanarration, overflowing with complex yet sophisticated symbolism.
"The novel belongs to our parents," the narrator says, understanding that his childhood experience of censorship and brutality was indirect, diluted by his infancy. Zambra plays a magic trick in creating an evocative past even in such a distressing time, where children played to be either war correspondents or secret spy agents or, if you prefer, secondary characters, as the metafiction kicks in with force.
The passage of time gives perspective to the ones now remembering. Zambra and his narrator dare to speak in an attempt to relieve the painful hungover which comes from a violent past and the arduous task of coming to terms with a disorienting history.
The once oblivious child has no choice but to carry the heavy burden of guilt on behalf of his parents, who were passive supporters of Pinochet, and learn to live with the increasing tension and estrangement towards them. I felt disturbed with recognition about the way Zambra faced his conflicting emotions when evoking his parental figures. The abstract need, the unquestionable respect for his parents in his youthful days as opposed to the embarrassment and disapproval he feels for them in the present. It rings a bell.
“You went a different way,� my mother said later, angry, her eyes still swollen. You were the ones who went a different way, I thought, but I didn’t say it.�
The different ways of remembering which try to ease the anguish of knowing that you have become an orphan when you decided to start writing.
“I thought about my mother, my father. I thought: What kinds of faces do my parents have? But our parents never really have faces. We never learn to truly look at them.�
This novel is also a hymn to the vocation of writing, and it’s precisely this calling which urges the narrator to write down the slippery scenes of a long gone past to give first names to these secondary characters, to explain, in the end, his own story.
"Although we might want to tell other people's stories we always end up telling our own."
The courageous catharsis of giving up the fictional framing to write about oneself, to finally speak out loud. That is what pierced right through me. To see these survivors of a lost world dealing with their present the best they can. Some stay, some fly away.And the shock which comes with the understanding that it’s just because you want them to stay that you have to let them go. And that it really doesn’t matter. Either staying or going, each one has to find its own way of going back home.
This is a redemptive tribute to those who went missing during the Pinochet regime. To all those unknown names whose blood still runs through the veins of the silenced generation which was growing up during this elusive period in Chile.
Zambra’s unpretentious voice gets irretrievably tangled with the one narrating the story, a nameless writer, who simultaneously mirrors his life through his characters, creating a perfecty circled metanarration, overflowing with complex yet sophisticated symbolism.
"The novel belongs to our parents," the narrator says, understanding that his childhood experience of censorship and brutality was indirect, diluted by his infancy. Zambra plays a magic trick in creating an evocative past even in such a distressing time, where children played to be either war correspondents or secret spy agents or, if you prefer, secondary characters, as the metafiction kicks in with force.
The passage of time gives perspective to the ones now remembering. Zambra and his narrator dare to speak in an attempt to relieve the painful hungover which comes from a violent past and the arduous task of coming to terms with a disorienting history.
The once oblivious child has no choice but to carry the heavy burden of guilt on behalf of his parents, who were passive supporters of Pinochet, and learn to live with the increasing tension and estrangement towards them. I felt disturbed with recognition about the way Zambra faced his conflicting emotions when evoking his parental figures. The abstract need, the unquestionable respect for his parents in his youthful days as opposed to the embarrassment and disapproval he feels for them in the present. It rings a bell.
“You went a different way,� my mother said later, angry, her eyes still swollen. You were the ones who went a different way, I thought, but I didn’t say it.�
The different ways of remembering which try to ease the anguish of knowing that you have become an orphan when you decided to start writing.
“I thought about my mother, my father. I thought: What kinds of faces do my parents have? But our parents never really have faces. We never learn to truly look at them.�
This novel is also a hymn to the vocation of writing, and it’s precisely this calling which urges the narrator to write down the slippery scenes of a long gone past to give first names to these secondary characters, to explain, in the end, his own story.
"Although we might want to tell other people's stories we always end up telling our own."
The courageous catharsis of giving up the fictional framing to write about oneself, to finally speak out loud. That is what pierced right through me. To see these survivors of a lost world dealing with their present the best they can. Some stay, some fly away.And the shock which comes with the understanding that it’s just because you want them to stay that you have to let them go. And that it really doesn’t matter. Either staying or going, each one has to find its own way of going back home.
February 18, 2018
Zambra’nın okuduğum ilk kitabı bu. Dilini çok sevdim, zengin ama sade, abartısız ama coşkulu cümleleri çok hoş. Nasıl böyle zıt nitelikler bir arada olabiliyor derseniz kitabı okumanızı öneririm. Zaten kitap boşluklarını da sayarsanız 100 sayfalık bir kitap. Daha önce okuduğum Şili’deki 1973 faşist darbesiyle ile ilgili kitapların aksine yazar Pinochet yanlısı olmasa bile apolitik tavırlarıyla Pinochet sempatizanı olan anne ve babasını hiç gocunmadan anlatıyor. Bir roman yazarken roman içinde nasıl kaybolduğunu ve nasıl yolunu bulduğunu öyle güzel anlatıyor ki, şu ara bir şekilde hayatın içinde yolunu kaybeden varsa geri dönmenin yollarını bu kitapta bulabilirler.
April 23, 2019
Μπορεί όλα να πηγαίνουν κατά διαόλου, αλλά τουλάχιστον διαβάζω ωραία βιβλία 💛
August 30, 2019
"Birinin yalnız yaşamasını anlamakta güçlük çekiyordum. Bana kalırsa yalnız yaşamak bir tür ceza olabilirdi ya da bir hastalık."
"Şimdi son yıllarda yaptığım en iyi şeyin sürüsüne bereket bira içmek ve bazı kitapları kendimi adayarak, tuhaf bir sadakatle, sanki içlerinde bana ait bir can, kadere dair bir iz varmışcasına yeniden okumak olduğunu düşünüyorum."
İlk Zambra okumamdı ve bu gece diğer kitaplarının hepsini okumamak için kendimi zor tutuyorum. 😍
�
"Şimdi son yıllarda yaptığım en iyi şeyin sürüsüne bereket bira içmek ve bazı kitapları kendimi adayarak, tuhaf bir sadakatle, sanki içlerinde bana ait bir can, kadere dair bir iz varmışcasına yeniden okumak olduğunu düşünüyorum."
İlk Zambra okumamdı ve bu gece diğer kitaplarının hepsini okumamak için kendimi zor tutuyorum. 😍
�
June 15, 2017
Savage Garden'in Truly Madly Deeply şarkısını ilk kez dinlediğimde o şarkıyı ben bestelemiş olmayı dilerdim diye düşünmüştüm. Bu kitap bittiğinde ise benzer bir şekilde bu kitabı keşke ben yazmış olsaydım diye düşündüm.
Kitabı okumayanlar için kısmı bilgiler içerebilir. Kitabı tanıtıcı bilgi içerebilir de içermeyebilir de bir garantisi yok, baştan uyarayım dedim :)
Bir kere ismi çok güzel! Eve Dönmenin Yolları, aslında bir çocuğun kaybolması ile başlasa da ileride de zaman zaman geçmişini kurcalayan bir adamın dilinden muhtelif şekillerde eve dönmenin yolları anlatılıyor.
Minimalist hastası birisi olarak Zambra'nın üslubunu ve anlatımını inanılmaz sevdim. Kitapta bazen küçücük detaylar gizli ve belki o detaylardan bir kitap daha çıkabilir. Belki yazar 19. yüzyılda yazsa bu romanı en az 1000 sayfa olurdu ama o kadar günümüzden ve o kadar kendimizden bir kitap ki bu kısacık ve tadında olmuş. Bazıları şu an eski kitapların belki gereksiz uzun olduğunu tartışıyor olabilir (Savaş ve Barış ile ilgili öyle bir tartışma okumuştum), belki de ileride 100-150 yıl sonra bu kitap neden bu kadar kısa diye yakınacaklar kim bilir...
Birçok açıdan çok güzel ve ilginç bir kitap. Herkes beğenmeyebilir bu kitabı ama bence kesinlikle herkes tarafından ilginç bulunacak bir kitap. Kurgu içinde kurgu ve post modern öykü hatta bir novella örneğini çok güzel yansıtmış bir kitap.
Kitap depremle başlayıp depremle bitiyor. Tıpkı hayat gibi... Herkesin hayatı sancıyla başlayıp, ölümle bitiyor.
Kitabı okumayanlar için kısmı bilgiler içerebilir. Kitabı tanıtıcı bilgi içerebilir de içermeyebilir de bir garantisi yok, baştan uyarayım dedim :)
Bir kere ismi çok güzel! Eve Dönmenin Yolları, aslında bir çocuğun kaybolması ile başlasa da ileride de zaman zaman geçmişini kurcalayan bir adamın dilinden muhtelif şekillerde eve dönmenin yolları anlatılıyor.
Minimalist hastası birisi olarak Zambra'nın üslubunu ve anlatımını inanılmaz sevdim. Kitapta bazen küçücük detaylar gizli ve belki o detaylardan bir kitap daha çıkabilir. Belki yazar 19. yüzyılda yazsa bu romanı en az 1000 sayfa olurdu ama o kadar günümüzden ve o kadar kendimizden bir kitap ki bu kısacık ve tadında olmuş. Bazıları şu an eski kitapların belki gereksiz uzun olduğunu tartışıyor olabilir (Savaş ve Barış ile ilgili öyle bir tartışma okumuştum), belki de ileride 100-150 yıl sonra bu kitap neden bu kadar kısa diye yakınacaklar kim bilir...
Birçok açıdan çok güzel ve ilginç bir kitap. Herkes beğenmeyebilir bu kitabı ama bence kesinlikle herkes tarafından ilginç bulunacak bir kitap. Kurgu içinde kurgu ve post modern öykü hatta bir novella örneğini çok güzel yansıtmış bir kitap.
Kitap depremle başlayıp depremle bitiyor. Tıpkı hayat gibi... Herkesin hayatı sancıyla başlayıp, ölümle bitiyor.
October 2, 2015
به خودم گفتم دو سال است تنها زندگی می کنم و همسایه ام نمی داند. به خودم گفتم حالا من همسایه مجردم، حالا من رائولم، من روبرتو ام. بعد یاد رمان افتادم. تشویشی گریبان گیرم شد و بر آن شدم داستان این گونه تمام خواهد شد: خانه مایپو، خانه دوران کودکی ام ویران خواهد شد. چه باعث شد درباره زلزله آن سال ها بنوسیم؟ نمی دانم اما می دانم که فکر مرگ اولین بار در آن شب دور به سراغم آمد. آن روزها مرگ برای کودکانی مثل من نامریی بود. کودکانی که از خانه بیرون می رفتند و بی باکانه در آن خیابان های خیالی می دویدند، از تاریخ در امان بودند. اولین بار شب زلزله متوجه شدم همه چیز به خاک خواهد پیوست. حالا فکر می کنم دانستن این موضوع خوب است. لازم است هر لحظه این موضوع را به خود خاطرنشان کنم.
کتاب راه های برگشتن به خانه در دسته رمان و ادبیات داستانی قرار دارد،اما می توان آن را یک اتوبیوگرافی و یا حتی یک دفتر خاطرات به حساب آورد، با نوشته هایی پاره پاره، غریب، بدون چهارچوب و بی آغاز و پایان مشخص. زیرا در بسیاری از قسمت های کتاب نمی توان میان نویسنده و راوی، داستان و خاطرات، گذشته و حال تفکیکی قائل شد. کتاب روایت گر بحران نسل دوم دیکتاتوری پینوشه ست، نسلی بحران زده که هیچ دستاویزی جز خاطرات محو گذشته ندارد و قادر نیست میان درون خویش و محیط بیرون تعادل و تعامل برقرار سازد.
به جز گره گشایی ماجرای رائول و کلائودیا، داستان شامل هیچ واقعه خاص دیگری نمی شود و باقی کتاب شامل اتفاقات روزمره و عادی ای است که به خودی خود هیچ جذابیتی ندارد، اما نویسنده این خاطرات پراکنده را با ایجاد کشمکش های درونی و بیرونی برای شخصیت اصلی و مقابل داستان (راوی و کلائودیا و ئه مه) خواندنی و گیرا ساخته است.
در داستان اشاراتی وجود داشت که برای من جالب بود. یکی نام بردن از فیلم اوهایو - صبح بخیر - یاسوجیرو ازو و دیگری خاطره ای که راوی در آن به ورزشگاه ملی شیلی اشاره می کند. آنجا که از خنده ی عامه ی مردم حین نمایش در استادیوم سخن می گوید. استادیومی که چند سال پیش تر بزرگترین بازداشتگاه زندانیان سیاسی محسوب می شد و ویکتور خارا -ترانه سرای معروف و محبوب انقلابی - یکی از زندانیان آنجا بود که در همان حوالی هم به قتل رسید.
در ارتباط با ترجمه: ترجمه کتاب نسبتا روان بود اما کتاب سرشار از اشکالات نگارشی و یکی دو مورد اشکال دستوری بود.استفاده مترجم از واژه "گرخیدن" در کتاب نیز بسیار عجیب به نظر می رسد
April 10, 2021
Formas de contar una historia
Este año para mí es el del descubrimiento de Alejandro Zambra. Primeo leí "Facsímil" y me fascinó. Después le autorregalé a miqueridaesposa esta novela que se supone es su obra cumbre.
Ella la leyó primero y al terminarla me dijo que no le había gustado tanto, que era "más estilo que contenido". Bueno, no coincidimos en absoluto. Por empezar el arte es el reino de la forma sobre el contenido. El cómo sobre el qué. Para el qué están los fallos judiciales y los papers científicos. En la forma de contar se juega la literatura (y en parte esa máquina de recortar la realidad a la que llamamos "periodismo").
"Formas de volver a casa" tiene varios planos y una frontera porosa entre eso que llamamos ficción y realidad. La trama se va urdiendo sin perderse nunca. Los tópicos son similares a los de "Facsímil" - la relación padres-hijo y el fracaso matrimonial.
En el medio, un ajuste de cuentas con el pasado de su familia y la historia de Chile marcada por la dictadura de Pinochet - tan parecida y tan diferente a la que vivimos los argentinos.
Ahora quiero leerme todo Zambra. No será complicado, entre otras virtudes, su literatura tiene la de la brevedad.
========================================================
Si te gustan mis reseñas tal vez también te guste mi newsletter sobre libros que se llama "No se puede leer todo". Se pueden suscribir gratis, poniendo su mail en este link: La encuentran en Twitter como @Nosepuedeleert1, en Instagram como @Nosepuedeleertodo y en Facebook.
Gracias, te espero
Sant
Este año para mí es el del descubrimiento de Alejandro Zambra. Primeo leí "Facsímil" y me fascinó. Después le autorregalé a miqueridaesposa esta novela que se supone es su obra cumbre.
Ella la leyó primero y al terminarla me dijo que no le había gustado tanto, que era "más estilo que contenido". Bueno, no coincidimos en absoluto. Por empezar el arte es el reino de la forma sobre el contenido. El cómo sobre el qué. Para el qué están los fallos judiciales y los papers científicos. En la forma de contar se juega la literatura (y en parte esa máquina de recortar la realidad a la que llamamos "periodismo").
"Formas de volver a casa" tiene varios planos y una frontera porosa entre eso que llamamos ficción y realidad. La trama se va urdiendo sin perderse nunca. Los tópicos son similares a los de "Facsímil" - la relación padres-hijo y el fracaso matrimonial.
En el medio, un ajuste de cuentas con el pasado de su familia y la historia de Chile marcada por la dictadura de Pinochet - tan parecida y tan diferente a la que vivimos los argentinos.
Ahora quiero leerme todo Zambra. No será complicado, entre otras virtudes, su literatura tiene la de la brevedad.
========================================================
Si te gustan mis reseñas tal vez también te guste mi newsletter sobre libros que se llama "No se puede leer todo". Se pueden suscribir gratis, poniendo su mail en este link: La encuentran en Twitter como @Nosepuedeleert1, en Instagram como @Nosepuedeleertodo y en Facebook.
Gracias, te espero
Sant
December 13, 2015
Biçim ve içeriğin örtüşmesi konusunda da gayet başarılı bir kitap. Kitap yazma çabası içerisinde kitabın sonuna doğru birlikte olduğu Eme nin kitabı nasıl bulduğunu merak etmesi , Eme'nin bu soruya pek ilgi göstermemesi, kitabın başladığı gibi bitmesi (bir depremle) döngüsü bence kitapta anlatılmak istenen duyguyu çok da iyi veriyor.
March 27, 2022
"...και μόλο που θέλουμε ν' αφηγούμαστε ιστορίες άλλων, πάντα καταλήγουμε ν' αφηγούμαστε τη δική μας"
___________________
Ποσο με διχασε αυτο το βιβλιο... το τελειωσα μην ξεροντας αν μ αρεσε ή οχι. Κι αν ναι, ποσο μου αρεσε.
Αυτο το βιβλιο μ' αρεσε και δε μ' αρεσε ταυτοχρονα. Αλλα σίγουρα δεν υπηρξε αδιάφορο.
Ξεκινησε παρα πολυ ωραια, μια σημαντική ιστορία απο την Ιστορια (ο μεγάλος σεισμος του 1985 στη Χιλη, η δικτατορία τουυ Πινοσετ) ιδωμένη α�� την τρυφερή ματιά ενος μικρού παιδιού. Μετα καπου μπλεχτηκα, εχασα το ρυθμό, και σ αυτο βασικά κατηγορώ τον συγγραφέα.
Νομιζω αυτο ηταν που δε μ΄αρεσε, ή, αυτό που μ' ενόχλησε στο βιβλίο. Που, ενω ειχε μια τοσο ωραια ιστορια να πει, μια τοσο ομορφη ιδεα με τοσο ομορφες λεξεις και σκεψεις, αυτη δε βρηκε την ολοκληρωσή της, δεν πραγματοποιηθηκε ποτε να γινει ενα ωραιο βιβλιο. Ηταν σα να ειπε ενα ωραιο τραγουδι με μια ξεκουρδιστη κιθαρα. Ενα ξεχαρβαλωμενο πιάνο.
Ειχε τεχνικά λαθη, δηλαδη.
Και, ισως κι εγω να εχω θεσει υψηλα τον πηχυ στους λατινοαμερικανους συγγραφεις και να περιμενω περισσοτερα απο την νεα γενια των συνεχιστων τους.
Εχω διαβασει και την Ιδιωτική ζωη των δεντρων του ιδίου, και παλι δε μ αρεσε πολύ, για διαφορετικό λογο. Ειχε ξανα αυτο το ονειρικό, μια νωχελική αφήγηση, καπως μαστουρωμένη θα τολμουσα να πω, αλλα εκεινο με αφησε αδιάφορη. Ήταν μια αδιαφορη, προσωπική ιστοριούλα.
Εδω εχει ενα πολυ καλο υλικο, υπεροχες σκέψεις, και δεν τα καταφερε στο πλέξιμο. Δεν ενωθηκαν εντεχνως οι πλοκές.
Ετσι ενιωσα, δυστυχως, γιατι ηθελα πολυ να μου αρεσει.
Γιατι σε στιγμες συγκινηθηκ�� και σε στιγμες ενιωσα, αλλα μετα με πεταγε παλι εξω, σαν παλια μπακατελα πισι.
και λιγο θυμωσα κιολας γι αυτο, δεν ξερω γιαττ, ισως γιατι ηθελα να μ αρεσει, ειχε ολα τα φοντα, γαμωτο.
Δεν μπορω να βρω αλλες μεταφορες για να το περιγραψω.
Ωστοσο, αν και η κριτική μου συνεβη με το φτυαρι του νεκροθάφτη, θα κρατησω τα -αντιφατικά- 4 αστερια στο rating σκοπιμα, γιατι ειχε παρα πολυ ωραιες προτασεις, παρα πολυ ωραιες σκέψεις και ηθελα να του βαλω κατι παραπανω απο 3 γι αυτο. Αρχικα, να φανταστεις, που το ξεκινησα, ημουν σιγουρη για τα 5 αστερια.
Αχ ρε Ζαμπρα, ποσο δυσκολο ειναι να εισαι απόγονος λατινοαμερικανικης κουλτουρας, τι βαρια κληρονομιά..
____________________
"Διάβασμα ειναι να καλύπτεις το προσωπό σου. Και γράψιμο να το αποκαλύπτεις"
___________________
Ποσο με διχασε αυτο το βιβλιο... το τελειωσα μην ξεροντας αν μ αρεσε ή οχι. Κι αν ναι, ποσο μου αρεσε.
Αυτο το βιβλιο μ' αρεσε και δε μ' αρεσε ταυτοχρονα. Αλλα σίγουρα δεν υπηρξε αδιάφορο.
Ξεκινησε παρα πολυ ωραια, μια σημαντική ιστορία απο την Ιστορια (ο μεγάλος σεισμος του 1985 στη Χιλη, η δικτατορία τουυ Πινοσετ) ιδωμένη α�� την τρυφερή ματιά ενος μικρού παιδιού. Μετα καπου μπλεχτηκα, εχασα το ρυθμό, και σ αυτο βασικά κατηγορώ τον συγγραφέα.
Νομιζω αυτο ηταν που δε μ΄αρεσε, ή, αυτό που μ' ενόχλησε στο βιβλίο. Που, ενω ειχε μια τοσο ωραια ιστορια να πει, μια τοσο ομορφη ιδεα με τοσο ομορφες λεξεις και σκεψεις, αυτη δε βρηκε την ολοκληρωσή της, δεν πραγματοποιηθηκε ποτε να γινει ενα ωραιο βιβλιο. Ηταν σα να ειπε ενα ωραιο τραγουδι με μια ξεκουρδιστη κιθαρα. Ενα ξεχαρβαλωμενο πιάνο.
Ειχε τεχνικά λαθη, δηλαδη.
Και, ισως κι εγω να εχω θεσει υψηλα τον πηχυ στους λατινοαμερικανους συγγραφεις και να περιμενω περισσοτερα απο την νεα γενια των συνεχιστων τους.
Εχω διαβασει και την Ιδιωτική ζωη των δεντρων του ιδίου, και παλι δε μ αρεσε πολύ, για διαφορετικό λογο. Ειχε ξανα αυτο το ονειρικό, μια νωχελική αφήγηση, καπως μαστουρωμένη θα τολμουσα να πω, αλλα εκεινο με αφησε αδιάφορη. Ήταν μια αδιαφορη, προσωπική ιστοριούλα.
Εδω εχει ενα πολυ καλο υλικο, υπεροχες σκέψεις, και δεν τα καταφερε στο πλέξιμο. Δεν ενωθηκαν εντεχνως οι πλοκές.
Ετσι ενιωσα, δυστυχως, γιατι ηθελα πολυ να μου αρεσει.
Γιατι σε στιγμες συγκινηθηκ�� και σε στιγμες ενιωσα, αλλα μετα με πεταγε παλι εξω, σαν παλια μπακατελα πισι.
και λιγο θυμωσα κιολας γι αυτο, δεν ξερω γιαττ, ισως γιατι ηθελα να μ αρεσει, ειχε ολα τα φοντα, γαμωτο.
Δεν μπορω να βρω αλλες μεταφορες για να το περιγραψω.
Ωστοσο, αν και η κριτική μου συνεβη με το φτυαρι του νεκροθάφτη, θα κρατησω τα -αντιφατικά- 4 αστερια στο rating σκοπιμα, γιατι ειχε παρα πολυ ωραιες προτασεις, παρα πολυ ωραιες σκέψεις και ηθελα να του βαλω κατι παραπανω απο 3 γι αυτο. Αρχικα, να φανταστεις, που το ξεκινησα, ημουν σιγουρη για τα 5 αστερια.
Αχ ρε Ζαμπρα, ποσο δυσκολο ειναι να εισαι απόγονος λατινοαμερικανικης κουλτουρας, τι βαρια κληρονομιά..
____________________
"Διάβασμα ειναι να καλύπτεις το προσωπό σου. Και γράψιμο να το αποκαλύπτεις"
February 23, 2018
‘Okumak yüzünü kapamaktır diye düşündüm.
Okumak yüzünü kapamaktır. Yazmaksa yüzünü göstermek.�
Okur olarak zor bir dönemden geçiyorum, elime aldığım kitapları, okumaya başladığım cümleleri bitiremiyorum. İki gün önce nispeten kısa olduğu için başladığım Eve Dönmenin Yolları’nı bir oturuşta yarıladım ve bu sabah da bitirdim. Uzun zamandır bu kadar naif bir roman okumamıştım. Çeviriyi de çok başarılı buldum.
Tam da ihtiyacım olan açık ve kısa bir anlatım ile yazılmış roman Zambra ile tanışmama ve Şili edebiyatını ne kadar sevdiğimi hatırlamama yardımcı oldu. Yazarların romanlarının hayatlarından nasıl izler taşıdığını da.
‘Dün gece saatlerce yürüdüm. Yeni bir sokakta kaybolmak istiyor gibiydim. Mutluluk içinde tamamen kaybolmak. Ama kaybolamadığımız, kaybolmayı beceremediğimiz anlar vardır. Her ne kadar sürekli yanlış yönlere sapsak da. Bütün kerterizleri kaybetsek de. Geç olsa da ve yola devam ederken söken şafağın ağırlığını hissetsek de. Ne kadar uğraşsak da kaybolmayı beceremediğimiz, kaybolamadığımız anlar vardır. Ve belki de kaybolabildiğimiz zamana özlem duyarız. Bütün sokakların yeni olduğu zamana.�
Okumak yüzünü kapamaktır. Yazmaksa yüzünü göstermek.�
Okur olarak zor bir dönemden geçiyorum, elime aldığım kitapları, okumaya başladığım cümleleri bitiremiyorum. İki gün önce nispeten kısa olduğu için başladığım Eve Dönmenin Yolları’nı bir oturuşta yarıladım ve bu sabah da bitirdim. Uzun zamandır bu kadar naif bir roman okumamıştım. Çeviriyi de çok başarılı buldum.
Tam da ihtiyacım olan açık ve kısa bir anlatım ile yazılmış roman Zambra ile tanışmama ve Şili edebiyatını ne kadar sevdiğimi hatırlamama yardımcı oldu. Yazarların romanlarının hayatlarından nasıl izler taşıdığını da.
‘Dün gece saatlerce yürüdüm. Yeni bir sokakta kaybolmak istiyor gibiydim. Mutluluk içinde tamamen kaybolmak. Ama kaybolamadığımız, kaybolmayı beceremediğimiz anlar vardır. Her ne kadar sürekli yanlış yönlere sapsak da. Bütün kerterizleri kaybetsek de. Geç olsa da ve yola devam ederken söken şafağın ağırlığını hissetsek de. Ne kadar uğraşsak da kaybolmayı beceremediğimiz, kaybolamadığımız anlar vardır. Ve belki de kaybolabildiğimiz zamana özlem duyarız. Bütün sokakların yeni olduğu zamana.�
February 19, 2018
Oldukça sade ve yalın bir kitap ama anlatması zor. Bununla birlikte okuması çok zevkli.
Eve dönmek her zaman güzeldir tabii dönecek bir ev varsa ve dönmenin yollarını da biliyorsanız.
Okurken keşke bizim ülkemizde de bu kadar sade bir şekilde yaşadığımız ve yaşamakta olduğumuz sosyo-siyasal çalkantılar konu alınsa demeden edemedim.
Çok sevdim, çok okunası !
Keyifli okumalar !
Eve dönmek her zaman güzeldir tabii dönecek bir ev varsa ve dönmenin yollarını da biliyorsanız.
Okurken keşke bizim ülkemizde de bu kadar sade bir şekilde yaşadığımız ve yaşamakta olduğumuz sosyo-siyasal çalkantılar konu alınsa demeden edemedim.
Çok sevdim, çok okunası !
Keyifli okumalar !
October 17, 2024
#another year of Zambra #2
3,5*
Sabia pouco, mas pelo menos sabia isto: que ninguém fala pelos outros. Que ainda que queiramos contar histórias alheias, acabamos sempre por contar a nossa.
Escrito depois de “Bonsai� e de “A Vida Privada das Árvores�, “Maneiras de Voltar para Casa� encapsula uma vez mais os temas tão caros a Alejandro Zambra: a infância durante a ditadura de Pinochet�
De todos os presentes eu era o único que vinha de uma família sem mortos, e essa verificação encheu-me de uma estranha amargura: os meus amigos tinham crescido a ler os livros que os pais ou os irmãos mortos haviam deixado em casa.
…a literatura�
Ler é tapar a cara, pensei eu. Ler é tapar a cara. E escrever é mostrá-la.
…o angustiante ofício de escritor�
Ou se calhar gosto de estar no livro. Talvez prefira escrever a ter escrito. Prefiro permanecer, habitar aquele tempo, conviver com aqueles anos, perseguir demoradamente imagens esquivas e revê-las cuidadosamente. Vê-las mal, mas vê-las. Deixar-me ficar lá, a olhar.
…e a complexidade das relações amorosas, tudo com o habitual cunho metaficcional.
“Maneiras de Voltar para Casa� não é só mais um livro dentro de um livro tão do agrado deste chileno, é também autoficção. Tal como o narrador, Zambra cresceu em Maipú, nos subúrbios de Santiago, em ruas com nomes absurdos como Primeira Sinfonia, El Concierto, Opus Uno e Aladino, filho de pais que, ao contrário de muitos outros, não eram militantes políticos. Quando se inicia a narrativa, vemos o Chile pelos olhos de uma criança que não está consciente do regime autoritário do seu país, que interpreta ingenuamente algumas situações, mas que se apercebe que, em certos momentos de tensão, os filhos passam a ser personagens secundárias e, assim, herdam o trauma intergeracional.
Crescemos a acreditar nisso, que o romance era dos pais. Maldizendo-os e também refugiando-nos, aliviados, nessa penumbra. Enquanto os adultos matavam ou eram mortos, nós fazíamos bonecos a um canto.
“Voltar� é um termo empregue inúmeras vezes nesta obra. É a vitória de voltar a casa após se perder dos pais em criança, é o instante de ternura de voltar a casa dos pais já em adulto�
Saí de casa há 15 anos e no entanto ainda sinto uma espécie de esquisito latido quando entro neste quarto que era meu e agora é uma espécie de arrecadação. Ao fundo há uma prateleira cheia de DVD e os álbuns de fotografias arrumados junto dos meus livros, os livros que publiquei. Acho bonito que estejam aqui, ao pé das recordações de família.
…� o momento de saudosismo ao voltar ao passado através dos livros que se leu e das aventuras que se viveu�
Chegou o tempo em que nem os filmes nem os romances têm importância, mas sim o momento em que os vimos, em que os lemos: onde estávamos, que fazíamos, quem éramos então.
…� o fim da ditadura em que se volta a casa depois de se viver na clandestinidade sob nome falso.
Ruas com nomes de pessoas, de lugares reais, de batalhas perdidas e ganhas, e não aquelas paisagens de fantasia, aquele mundo de mentira em que crescemos à pressa.
Gostei um pouco menos deste livro de Zambra, mas reconheço a sua capacidade ímpar de falar sobre ler e escrever.
O que mais recordamos são os ruídos das imagens. E às vezes, ao escrever, limpamos tudo, como se desse modo avançássemos numa direcção qualquer. Devíamos simplesmente descrever esses ruídos, essas manchas na memória. Apenas essa selecção arbitrária, nada mais. Por isso, afinal, mentimos tanto. Por isso um livro é sempre o avesso de outro livro imenso e esquisito. Um livro ilegível e genuíno que traduzimos, que atraiçoamos devido ao hábito de uma prosa aceitável.
3,5*
Sabia pouco, mas pelo menos sabia isto: que ninguém fala pelos outros. Que ainda que queiramos contar histórias alheias, acabamos sempre por contar a nossa.
Escrito depois de “Bonsai� e de “A Vida Privada das Árvores�, “Maneiras de Voltar para Casa� encapsula uma vez mais os temas tão caros a Alejandro Zambra: a infância durante a ditadura de Pinochet�
De todos os presentes eu era o único que vinha de uma família sem mortos, e essa verificação encheu-me de uma estranha amargura: os meus amigos tinham crescido a ler os livros que os pais ou os irmãos mortos haviam deixado em casa.
…a literatura�
Ler é tapar a cara, pensei eu. Ler é tapar a cara. E escrever é mostrá-la.
…o angustiante ofício de escritor�
Ou se calhar gosto de estar no livro. Talvez prefira escrever a ter escrito. Prefiro permanecer, habitar aquele tempo, conviver com aqueles anos, perseguir demoradamente imagens esquivas e revê-las cuidadosamente. Vê-las mal, mas vê-las. Deixar-me ficar lá, a olhar.
…e a complexidade das relações amorosas, tudo com o habitual cunho metaficcional.
“Maneiras de Voltar para Casa� não é só mais um livro dentro de um livro tão do agrado deste chileno, é também autoficção. Tal como o narrador, Zambra cresceu em Maipú, nos subúrbios de Santiago, em ruas com nomes absurdos como Primeira Sinfonia, El Concierto, Opus Uno e Aladino, filho de pais que, ao contrário de muitos outros, não eram militantes políticos. Quando se inicia a narrativa, vemos o Chile pelos olhos de uma criança que não está consciente do regime autoritário do seu país, que interpreta ingenuamente algumas situações, mas que se apercebe que, em certos momentos de tensão, os filhos passam a ser personagens secundárias e, assim, herdam o trauma intergeracional.
Crescemos a acreditar nisso, que o romance era dos pais. Maldizendo-os e também refugiando-nos, aliviados, nessa penumbra. Enquanto os adultos matavam ou eram mortos, nós fazíamos bonecos a um canto.
“Voltar� é um termo empregue inúmeras vezes nesta obra. É a vitória de voltar a casa após se perder dos pais em criança, é o instante de ternura de voltar a casa dos pais já em adulto�
Saí de casa há 15 anos e no entanto ainda sinto uma espécie de esquisito latido quando entro neste quarto que era meu e agora é uma espécie de arrecadação. Ao fundo há uma prateleira cheia de DVD e os álbuns de fotografias arrumados junto dos meus livros, os livros que publiquei. Acho bonito que estejam aqui, ao pé das recordações de família.
…� o momento de saudosismo ao voltar ao passado através dos livros que se leu e das aventuras que se viveu�
Chegou o tempo em que nem os filmes nem os romances têm importância, mas sim o momento em que os vimos, em que os lemos: onde estávamos, que fazíamos, quem éramos então.
…� o fim da ditadura em que se volta a casa depois de se viver na clandestinidade sob nome falso.
Ruas com nomes de pessoas, de lugares reais, de batalhas perdidas e ganhas, e não aquelas paisagens de fantasia, aquele mundo de mentira em que crescemos à pressa.
Gostei um pouco menos deste livro de Zambra, mas reconheço a sua capacidade ímpar de falar sobre ler e escrever.
O que mais recordamos são os ruídos das imagens. E às vezes, ao escrever, limpamos tudo, como se desse modo avançássemos numa direcção qualquer. Devíamos simplesmente descrever esses ruídos, essas manchas na memória. Apenas essa selecção arbitrária, nada mais. Por isso, afinal, mentimos tanto. Por isso um livro é sempre o avesso de outro livro imenso e esquisito. Um livro ilegível e genuíno que traduzimos, que atraiçoamos devido ao hábito de uma prosa aceitável.
April 29, 2017
Zambra'ya sarıldım, romana bayıldım!
Bende Roberto Bolano saplantısı başladığından beri, Latin Amerika tarihine ama özellikle Şili'nin geçmişine, kültürüne özel bir ilgi duydum. Bolano romanlarını okurken bir yandan da kendimi bu alanda tarihi bilgi açısından donattım. Zira içinden geçtiği gerçeklikle sıkı sıkıya örtülü Şili Edebiyatı, savruk, eksik bir okuma yapmaya pek müsait değil. Yazarlar ve karakterleri ile tam bir bütünleşme sağlanabilmesi, acılarına ortak olunabilmesi için, duygudaşlık kurabilecek kadar yaşadıklarını bilmek gerekiyor. Bunun da etkisiyle zaten diğer kitaplarından pek keyif aldığım Zambra'nın 'Eve Dönmenin Yolları' romanından muazzam derecede keyif aldım. Elimden bırakamadım, uykusuzluk ve yorgunluğuma rağmen; aheste aheste okuyup sonunu getirdim. Bonsai ve Ağaçların Özel Yaşantısı'nı da okumuş biri olarak yazarın en iyi romanının bu olduğunu söylemek isterim.
Uzun uzadıya anlatıldığında bile pek kavranmayan, travmatik ve hassas duyguları o kadar güzel aktarmış ki Zambra ancak bir ustalık sonucu olabilir bu. Topraklarının geleneği haline gelmiş, 'büyülü gerçekçilik' sularına hiç girmeden, salt gerçeklikle bir şeyler inşa etmiş. Gerçeklik derken tam anlamıyla olduğunu söylemek isterim. Karakterleri ve olayları karşılıkları olan şeylerden almasının yanında, bir noktada romana yazar Zambra olarak da dahil olup, kitabı yazma serüvenini de anlatarak işi bir adım ileriye götürüyor. Bu süreci romanın bir parçası haline getirirken deneysel bir metin gibi de tınlamıyor. Kırılgan ve kopuk hisleri, abartmadan, ağdalamadan hem kendinden hemde karakterlerinden donelerle, betimlemelerde boğulmadan, ruhsal tasvirlere girmeden aktarıyor.
Pinochet Darbesi etkisi altında çok roman yazılmış bulunmakta. Malum en büyük zararlardan birini de o dönem sanatçı/aydın grup almıştı. Özellikle yazarlar ve şairler. Hepsinde o kadar saf ve güçlü bir öfke, acı, matem var ki samimiyetinden bir an dahi şüphe etmiyorsunuz. Bu anlamda Bolano, çok katmanlı ve üzerinde düşünüldükçe rengi ortaya çıkan eserler yazarken, Zambra herkesin okurken aynı kolaylıkla kavrayabileceği bir eser yazmış.
Kitaptaki karakterler kusursuz, muhteşem, benzersiz değiller. İşin en güzel taraflarından biri de bu. Tanışıkmış gibi gelen karakterler hepsi. Sanki arkadaşlarınız, yanınızda oturuyorlar, geçmiş akıllarına dadandığında uzaklara bakıyorlar, asla geçmeyecek zihinsel yorgunlukları ile geçmişlerinin korkunç anılarını taşımaya zorlanıyorlar ama yüzünüze döndüklerinde gülümseyip, kimseyi ürkütmeyen kısık bir sesle muhabbete kaldıkları yerden devam ediyorlar.
Ben çok beğendim, herkese tavsiye ederim.
9/10
Bende Roberto Bolano saplantısı başladığından beri, Latin Amerika tarihine ama özellikle Şili'nin geçmişine, kültürüne özel bir ilgi duydum. Bolano romanlarını okurken bir yandan da kendimi bu alanda tarihi bilgi açısından donattım. Zira içinden geçtiği gerçeklikle sıkı sıkıya örtülü Şili Edebiyatı, savruk, eksik bir okuma yapmaya pek müsait değil. Yazarlar ve karakterleri ile tam bir bütünleşme sağlanabilmesi, acılarına ortak olunabilmesi için, duygudaşlık kurabilecek kadar yaşadıklarını bilmek gerekiyor. Bunun da etkisiyle zaten diğer kitaplarından pek keyif aldığım Zambra'nın 'Eve Dönmenin Yolları' romanından muazzam derecede keyif aldım. Elimden bırakamadım, uykusuzluk ve yorgunluğuma rağmen; aheste aheste okuyup sonunu getirdim. Bonsai ve Ağaçların Özel Yaşantısı'nı da okumuş biri olarak yazarın en iyi romanının bu olduğunu söylemek isterim.
Uzun uzadıya anlatıldığında bile pek kavranmayan, travmatik ve hassas duyguları o kadar güzel aktarmış ki Zambra ancak bir ustalık sonucu olabilir bu. Topraklarının geleneği haline gelmiş, 'büyülü gerçekçilik' sularına hiç girmeden, salt gerçeklikle bir şeyler inşa etmiş. Gerçeklik derken tam anlamıyla olduğunu söylemek isterim. Karakterleri ve olayları karşılıkları olan şeylerden almasının yanında, bir noktada romana yazar Zambra olarak da dahil olup, kitabı yazma serüvenini de anlatarak işi bir adım ileriye götürüyor. Bu süreci romanın bir parçası haline getirirken deneysel bir metin gibi de tınlamıyor. Kırılgan ve kopuk hisleri, abartmadan, ağdalamadan hem kendinden hemde karakterlerinden donelerle, betimlemelerde boğulmadan, ruhsal tasvirlere girmeden aktarıyor.
Pinochet Darbesi etkisi altında çok roman yazılmış bulunmakta. Malum en büyük zararlardan birini de o dönem sanatçı/aydın grup almıştı. Özellikle yazarlar ve şairler. Hepsinde o kadar saf ve güçlü bir öfke, acı, matem var ki samimiyetinden bir an dahi şüphe etmiyorsunuz. Bu anlamda Bolano, çok katmanlı ve üzerinde düşünüldükçe rengi ortaya çıkan eserler yazarken, Zambra herkesin okurken aynı kolaylıkla kavrayabileceği bir eser yazmış.
Kitaptaki karakterler kusursuz, muhteşem, benzersiz değiller. İşin en güzel taraflarından biri de bu. Tanışıkmış gibi gelen karakterler hepsi. Sanki arkadaşlarınız, yanınızda oturuyorlar, geçmiş akıllarına dadandığında uzaklara bakıyorlar, asla geçmeyecek zihinsel yorgunlukları ile geçmişlerinin korkunç anılarını taşımaya zorlanıyorlar ama yüzünüze döndüklerinde gülümseyip, kimseyi ürkütmeyen kısık bir sesle muhabbete kaldıkları yerden devam ediyorlar.
Ben çok beğendim, herkese tavsiye ederim.
9/10
April 3, 2024
این کتاب(زندگی مردم طبقه متوسط شیلی در میانه حکومت آلنده و پینوشه)در مرز خاطره نویسی،روایت،داستان و ناداستان حرکت میکنه،حت� خاطرات و گفتگوی نویسنده با دوستش حین نوشتن کتاب هم در اثر موجوده و خط باریکی تمام این وقایع رو به هم وصل میکنه،زمانی به شدت مدرن.
اما صفحه ا� از کتاب هست که من رو ویران کرد و تا ابد در ذهنم جاری میماند.
چند جای جالب کتاب
ب� خودم گفتم خواندن يعنى پوشاندن چهره.
خواندن يعنى پوشاندن چهره و نوشتن يعنى نماياندن آن
نم� توانستم بفهمم چطور كسى مى تواند تنها زندگى كند. فكر ميكردم تنهايى يكجور تنبيه يا بيمارى است.
.
اما صفحه ا� از کتاب هست که من رو ویران کرد و تا ابد در ذهنم جاری میماند.
چند جای جالب کتاب
ب� خودم گفتم خواندن يعنى پوشاندن چهره.
خواندن يعنى پوشاندن چهره و نوشتن يعنى نماياندن آن
نم� توانستم بفهمم چطور كسى مى تواند تنها زندگى كند. فكر ميكردم تنهايى يكجور تنبيه يا بيمارى است.
.
March 16, 2022
The narrator struggles to speak truthfully about things that are too terrible, or too hidden, to be written about truthfully. This novel succeeds magnificently in turning that contradiction into art. The novel is from the point of view of a novelist trying to make sense of his childhood during the Pinochet years, and to come to terms with the choices that his parents and the other adults in his life made to survive those years.
An excerpt:
I'd spent the afternoon with a group of classmates, and we were exchanging family stories in which death appeared with urgent insistence. Of all those present I was the only one who came from a family with no dead, and that realization filled me with a strange bitterness: my friends had grown up reading the books that their dead parents or siblings left behind in the house. But in my family there were no dead and there were no books.
I come from a family with no dead.
An excerpt:
I'd spent the afternoon with a group of classmates, and we were exchanging family stories in which death appeared with urgent insistence. Of all those present I was the only one who came from a family with no dead, and that realization filled me with a strange bitterness: my friends had grown up reading the books that their dead parents or siblings left behind in the house. But in my family there were no dead and there were no books.
I come from a family with no dead.
April 26, 2021
Şimdiye kadar ertelediğime çok pişman oldum. Düşünceler kadar yalın dili, asla karton gibi olmayan gerçek karakterleri ile kültürün içinden çıkmamış olunmasına rağmen çok tanıdık gelen anlar, diyaloglar ile eve dönmenin yolları� Kitabın adı daha da derinleşiyor okuyunca
Çok sevdim.
“Büyükler öldürürken ya da ölürken biz köşede resim yapıyorduk. Ülke paramparça olurken biz konuşmayı, yürümeyi, peçeteleri katlayarak kayık ve uçak yapmayı öğreniyorduk. Roman örülürken biz yok olmak için saklambaç oynuyorduk.�
Çok sevdim.
“Büyükler öldürürken ya da ölürken biz köşede resim yapıyorduk. Ülke paramparça olurken biz konuşmayı, yürümeyi, peçeteleri katlayarak kayık ve uçak yapmayı öğreniyorduk. Roman örülürken biz yok olmak için saklambaç oynuyorduk.�
October 3, 2015
اول بگم که من از این نویسنده جیزی نخونده بودم و تا اونجا که یادمه خیلی از ادبیات امریکای جنوبی دل خوشی نداشتم، ولی این نویسنده شیلیایی خیلی خوب نوشته و ترجمه روان هم به فهم بیشتر این اثر خیلی کمک کرد.
پیش بردن خط داستانی تو این کتاب متفاوت از تجربیات من بود ولی انقدر خوب کار شده بود که اصلا احساس گم مردن خط داستان نداد به من.
نمی دونم بقیه کتاب های این نویسنده ترجمه شدن یا نه، ولی بنظر من این کتاب ارزش خوندن رو داره. خوشم اومد از تم کتاب.
پیش بردن خط داستانی تو این کتاب متفاوت از تجربیات من بود ولی انقدر خوب کار شده بود که اصلا احساس گم مردن خط داستان نداد به من.
نمی دونم بقیه کتاب های این نویسنده ترجمه شدن یا نه، ولی بنظر من این کتاب ارزش خوندن رو داره. خوشم اومد از تم کتاب.
November 25, 2021
Πρώτο βιβλίο για το 2021 και η χρονιά μου ξεκίνησε πολύ όμορφα αναγνωστικά! Ένα βιβλίο με οικείο ύφος που με έβαλε στη θέση του ήρωα πολλές φορές. Υπήρξαν περιπτώσεις που σκεφτόμουν πως δεν μπορεί ,εμένα περιγράφει! Ο Alejandro Zambra ,χωρίς πολλά "στολίδια" αλλα με τρόπο απλό λιτό κι απέριττο σε κάνει να θες να γυρίσεις σπίτι με έναν ή και περισσότερους τρόπους.
"Αντί να ουρλιάζω γράφω βιβλία"
Καθόλη τη διάρκεια της ανάγνωσης ένιωθα πως μιλούσα στο τηλέφωνο με έναν φίλο και ήθελα να του φωνάξω " πόσο σε καταλαβαίνω" !
"...και μόλο που θέλουμε να αφηγούμαστε ιστορίες άλλων, πάντα καταλήγουμε να αφηγούμαστε τη δική μας".
"Αντί να ουρλιάζω γράφω βιβλία"
Καθόλη τη διάρκεια της ανάγνωσης ένιωθα πως μιλούσα στο τηλέφωνο με έναν φίλο και ήθελα να του φωνάξω " πόσο σε καταλαβαίνω" !
"...και μόλο που θέλουμε να αφηγούμαστε ιστορίες άλλων, πάντα καταλήγουμε να αφηγούμαστε τη δική μας".
April 11, 2018
Biraz önce şiir yazmayı denedim, ancak șu birkaç dize çıktı:
Ben büyüyünce bir anı olacaktım
Ama artık yoruldum durmaksızın
Güzelliği aramaktan ve ayıklamaktan
Rüzgardan kırılmış bir ağaçtaki
Sadece ilk dize hoşuma gitti:
Ben büyüyünce bir anı olacaktım.
//
Nasıl güzel.
Ben büyüyünce bir anı olacaktım
Ama artık yoruldum durmaksızın
Güzelliği aramaktan ve ayıklamaktan
Rüzgardan kırılmış bir ağaçtaki
Sadece ilk dize hoşuma gitti:
Ben büyüyünce bir anı olacaktım.
//
Nasıl güzel.
December 15, 2016
Ο Zambra μαζί με τον Andres Neuman είναι δύο απ΄τις πιο ενδιαφέρουσες νέες φωνές που έχουν μεταφραστεί στην Ελλάδα τα τελευταία χρόνια. Σχεδόν συνομίληκοί -μoυ- με λατινοαμερικάνικες ρίζες κ μια φρέσκια γραφή (ειδικά ο Zambra), έχουν ήδη κάνει τα πρώτα βήματα καταξίωσης (μεταφρασμένοι στα αγγλικά αμφότεροι) με την προσεγμένη μέχρι στιγμής παραγωγή τους.
Τον Χιλιανό τον γνώρισα τυχαία πέρσι, αγνοώντας ότι ο Πατάκης είχε ήδη κυκλοφορήσει το ντεμπούτο του, Μπονσάι, κ διάβασα την αγγλική μετάφραση πριν δω κ την ταινία. Έχει μια φαινομενικά απλή γραφή, είναι μινιμαλιστής αλλά πίσω απ'τις λέξεις του ο Zambra κρύβει αριστοτεχνικά τις σκέψεις του, όπως κάνει στο Τρόποι να γυρίζεις σπίτι, που είναι σαφώς ανώτερο του Μπονσάι, παρόλο που κι αυτό μου άρεσε πολύ. Χρησιμοποιώντας το σύστημα "βιβλίο μέσα στο βιβλίο", ο συγγραφέας γυρίζει πίσω στις μέρες του εγκληματία-δικτάτορα Πινοσέτ, όταν ο ήρωας του ήταν ακόμα μικρό παιδί κ ήταν αδύνατο να νιώσει τη φρίκη της κατάστασης. Μιλώντας για ένα παιδικό έρωτα, ο Zambra θέτει ερωτήματα για την παιδική ηλικία, για τις αναμνήσεις τις οποίες συλλέγει με μανία για να χρησιμοποιήσει στο βιβλίο που γράφει αλλά κ για να εξηγήσει τη ζωή του. Τι θέση είχαν οι γονείς του απέναντι στο καθεστώς; Πως είναι δυνατόν ο ίδιος να συνεχίζει να ζει γνωρίζοντας ότι ήταν ένας, αναγκαστικά λόγω ηλικίας, δευτερεύων χαρακτήρας στην ίδια του τη βιογραφία;
"Το μυθιστόρημα είναι το μυθιστόρημα των γονέων, σκέφτηκα τότε, σκέφτομαι κ τώρα. Μεγαλώσαμε, αυτό πιστεύοντας: ότι το μυθιστόρημα είναι των γονέων. Τους κακολογούσαμε αλλά στη σκιά τους βρίσκαμε ανακούφιση κ καταφύγιο. Ενόσω οι μεγάλοι σκότωναν ή σκοτώνονταν, εμείς ζωγραφίζαμε σε μια γωνιά. Ενόσω η χώρα διαλυόταν, εμείς μαθαίναμε να μιλάμε, να περπατάμε, να κάνουμε με τις χαρτοπετσέτες βαρκούλες κι αεροπλανάκια. Ενόσω το μυθιστόρημα συνέβαινε, εμείς παίζαμε κρυφτό, παίζαμε εξαφάνιση".
Αυτο που βρίσκω μαγικό στο Zambra είναι ο τρόπος. Πώς με μια άκρως μινιμαλιστική τεχνοτροπία θέτει την προβληματική του βιβλίου του χωρίς να εκβιάζει τίποτα και πάνω απ'όλα χωρίς να γίνεται διδακτικός (παγίδα στην οποία πέφτει με το κεφάλι ο Vasquez που ανήκει στην ίδια κατηγορία συγγραφέων, ακόμα κι αν χρησιμοποιεί άλλα μέσα κ αν υποστηρίζει διαφορετικά πράγματα. Αναμφίβολα κι οι δύο ψάχνουν τρόπους να συμφιλιώσουν το παρόν με το παρελθόν του τόπου τους, τρόπους να γυρίσουν σπίτι. Οι διαδρομές είναι αισθητά διαφορετικές). Ταυτόχρονα μιλάει για τον ίδιο, για την λογοτεχνία, για τη συγγραφή κ για την μεγάλη γοητεία που ασκούν σε δημιουργούς κ αναγνώστες.
Σε γενικές γραμμές βρίσκω συναρπαστικό το πώς μιλάει ο Zambra κ αυτό σχεδόν με εκπλήσσει μιας κ λείπουν χαρακτηριστικά που με γοητεύουν στα περισσότερα βιβλία που αγαπώ. Έχει μια φοβερή αυτοπεποίθηση για την ηλικία του, γεγονός που εξηγεί τον παιχνιδιάρικο τρόπο που γράφει χωρίς να παραμένει πιστός στη φόρμα που υπηρετεί. Επίσης σε προσωπικό επίπεδο, είναι ανακουφιστικό να διαπιστώνω ότι μπορώ ακόμα να μη ξέρω τι θέλω ακριβώς, ακόμα κ σε απλά χόμπι όπως είναι η ανάγνωση. Περιμένω σχεδόν με αγωνία να μεταφραστεί κ η υπόλοιπη βιβλιογραφία του κ δεν θα διαβάσω τις αγγλικές μεταφράσεις, αν κ δεν κρατιέμαι, μιας κ ο Κυριακίδης έχει κεντήσει κ πάλι. Ο Ικαρος έχει ήδη ανακοινώσει την κυκλοφορία του έργου που προηγήθηκε των Τρόπων, Η Ιδιωτική Ζωή των Δέντρων (εχει βγάλει κ μια συλλογή διηγημάτων κ το πειραματικό Multiple Choice που κυκλοφόρησε φέτος).
Υ.Γ. Μην ψάχνετε κοινά με τον Μπολάνιο, πέρα από άλλου επιπέδου συγγραφέας ο Μπολάνιο είχε άλλες προτεραιότητες, o Zambra προσπαθεί να γράψει το μυθιστόρημα της επόμενης γενιάς, ο Μπολάνιο καθόρισε την προηγούμενη. Γι'αυτές τις χαζές συγκρίσεις δεν φταίνε οι συγγραφείς άλλωστε. Ο Julian Barnes κ το Ενα Καποιο Τελος είναι πολύ πιο κοντα στον εδώ κ τώρα Zambra.
Τον Χιλιανό τον γνώρισα τυχαία πέρσι, αγνοώντας ότι ο Πατάκης είχε ήδη κυκλοφορήσει το ντεμπούτο του, Μπονσάι, κ διάβασα την αγγλική μετάφραση πριν δω κ την ταινία. Έχει μια φαινομενικά απλή γραφή, είναι μινιμαλιστής αλλά πίσω απ'τις λέξεις του ο Zambra κρύβει αριστοτεχνικά τις σκέψεις του, όπως κάνει στο Τρόποι να γυρίζεις σπίτι, που είναι σαφώς ανώτερο του Μπονσάι, παρόλο που κι αυτό μου άρεσε πολύ. Χρησιμοποιώντας το σύστημα "βιβλίο μέσα στο βιβλίο", ο συγγραφέας γυρίζει πίσω στις μέρες του εγκληματία-δικτάτορα Πινοσέτ, όταν ο ήρωας του ήταν ακόμα μικρό παιδί κ ήταν αδύνατο να νιώσει τη φρίκη της κατάστασης. Μιλώντας για ένα παιδικό έρωτα, ο Zambra θέτει ερωτήματα για την παιδική ηλικία, για τις αναμνήσεις τις οποίες συλλέγει με μανία για να χρησιμοποιήσει στο βιβλίο που γράφει αλλά κ για να εξηγήσει τη ζωή του. Τι θέση είχαν οι γονείς του απέναντι στο καθεστώς; Πως είναι δυνατόν ο ίδιος να συνεχίζει να ζει γνωρίζοντας ότι ήταν ένας, αναγκαστικά λόγω ηλικίας, δευτερεύων χαρακτήρας στην ίδια του τη βιογραφία;
"Το μυθιστόρημα είναι το μυθιστόρημα των γονέων, σκέφτηκα τότε, σκέφτομαι κ τώρα. Μεγαλώσαμε, αυτό πιστεύοντας: ότι το μυθιστόρημα είναι των γονέων. Τους κακολογούσαμε αλλά στη σκιά τους βρίσκαμε ανακούφιση κ καταφύγιο. Ενόσω οι μεγάλοι σκότωναν ή σκοτώνονταν, εμείς ζωγραφίζαμε σε μια γωνιά. Ενόσω η χώρα διαλυόταν, εμείς μαθαίναμε να μιλάμε, να περπατάμε, να κάνουμε με τις χαρτοπετσέτες βαρκούλες κι αεροπλανάκια. Ενόσω το μυθιστόρημα συνέβαινε, εμείς παίζαμε κρυφτό, παίζαμε εξαφάνιση".
Αυτο που βρίσκω μαγικό στο Zambra είναι ο τρόπος. Πώς με μια άκρως μινιμαλιστική τεχνοτροπία θέτει την προβληματική του βιβλίου του χωρίς να εκβιάζει τίποτα και πάνω απ'όλα χωρίς να γίνεται διδακτικός (παγίδα στην οποία πέφτει με το κεφάλι ο Vasquez που ανήκει στην ίδια κατηγορία συγγραφέων, ακόμα κι αν χρησιμοποιεί άλλα μέσα κ αν υποστηρίζει διαφορετικά πράγματα. Αναμφίβολα κι οι δύο ψάχνουν τρόπους να συμφιλιώσουν το παρόν με το παρελθόν του τόπου τους, τρόπους να γυρίσουν σπίτι. Οι διαδρομές είναι αισθητά διαφορετικές). Ταυτόχρονα μιλάει για τον ίδιο, για την λογοτεχνία, για τη συγγραφή κ για την μεγάλη γοητεία που ασκούν σε δημιουργούς κ αναγνώστες.
Σε γενικές γραμμές βρίσκω συναρπαστικό το πώς μιλάει ο Zambra κ αυτό σχεδόν με εκπλήσσει μιας κ λείπουν χαρακτηριστικά που με γοητεύουν στα περισσότερα βιβλία που αγαπώ. Έχει μια φοβερή αυτοπεποίθηση για την ηλικία του, γεγονός που εξηγεί τον παιχνιδιάρικο τρόπο που γράφει χωρίς να παραμένει πιστός στη φόρμα που υπηρετεί. Επίσης σε προσωπικό επίπεδο, είναι ανακουφιστικό να διαπιστώνω ότι μπορώ ακόμα να μη ξέρω τι θέλω ακριβώς, ακόμα κ σε απλά χόμπι όπως είναι η ανάγνωση. Περιμένω σχεδόν με αγωνία να μεταφραστεί κ η υπόλοιπη βιβλιογραφία του κ δεν θα διαβάσω τις αγγλικές μεταφράσεις, αν κ δεν κρατιέμαι, μιας κ ο Κυριακίδης έχει κεντήσει κ πάλι. Ο Ικαρος έχει ήδη ανακοινώσει την κυκλοφορία του έργου που προηγήθηκε των Τρόπων, Η Ιδιωτική Ζωή των Δέντρων (εχει βγάλει κ μια συλλογή διηγημάτων κ το πειραματικό Multiple Choice που κυκλοφόρησε φέτος).
Υ.Γ. Μην ψάχνετε κοινά με τον Μπολάνιο, πέρα από άλλου επιπέδου συγγραφέας ο Μπολάνιο είχε άλλες προτεραιότητες, o Zambra προσπαθεί να γράψει το μυθιστόρημα της επόμενης γενιάς, ο Μπολάνιο καθόρισε την προηγούμενη. Γι'αυτές τις χαζές συγκρίσεις δεν φταίνε οι συγγραφείς άλλωστε. Ο Julian Barnes κ το Ενα Καποιο Τελος είναι πολύ πιο κοντα στον εδώ κ τώρα Zambra.
April 12, 2022
Escolhido como o livro do Chile no Bookster pelo mundo, “Formas de voltar para casa� é um livro de reconstrução da memória, tendo como pano de fundo o governo de Pinochet, no final do século XX. Desde sua infância até os dias atuais, o personagem vai descrevendo passagens de sua vida e da história do Chile com base no que viu e no que lhe contaram.
É um olhar sensível e poético sobre uma geração que teve que crescer embaixo da sombra de uma ditadura. A forma como a criança vai aos poucos compreendendo a realidade ao seu redor e perdendo a idealização que faz de seus pais e avós é muito real e tocante. Mas não espere um livro apenas sobre a ditadura, é mais que isso: é uma obra sobre vidas, cotidianos e pessoas que não podiam deixar de seguir enquanto a ditadura acontecia.
Para construir esse romance, o autor se utiliza muito da metalinguagem, já que o personagem principal revive suas memórias enquanto escreve seu próprio livro. Também não posso deixar de dizer que estou cada vez estou mais fascinado pela literatura latino-americana. Apesar das diferenças culturais e da História de cada país, é impossível não perceber a existência de laços que nos unem e que fazem de nossas histórias uma narrativa semelhante.
“Sabia pouco, mas pelo menos sabia isto: que ninguém fala pelos outros. Que, mesmo que queiramos contar histórias alheias, terminamos sempre contando nossa própria história.�
Nota 8,5/10
Leia mais resenhas em
É um olhar sensível e poético sobre uma geração que teve que crescer embaixo da sombra de uma ditadura. A forma como a criança vai aos poucos compreendendo a realidade ao seu redor e perdendo a idealização que faz de seus pais e avós é muito real e tocante. Mas não espere um livro apenas sobre a ditadura, é mais que isso: é uma obra sobre vidas, cotidianos e pessoas que não podiam deixar de seguir enquanto a ditadura acontecia.
Para construir esse romance, o autor se utiliza muito da metalinguagem, já que o personagem principal revive suas memórias enquanto escreve seu próprio livro. Também não posso deixar de dizer que estou cada vez estou mais fascinado pela literatura latino-americana. Apesar das diferenças culturais e da História de cada país, é impossível não perceber a existência de laços que nos unem e que fazem de nossas histórias uma narrativa semelhante.
“Sabia pouco, mas pelo menos sabia isto: que ninguém fala pelos outros. Que, mesmo que queiramos contar histórias alheias, terminamos sempre contando nossa própria história.�
Nota 8,5/10
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