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睾乇丕賲賷丕鬲
芦丌禺乇 賲乇丞 乇兀賷鬲購 賮賷賴丕 丿賷爻賮賷乇賳 兀賵 丿賷賮賷乇賳賷 賴賷 丕賱賲乇丞 丕賱兀禺賷乇丞 兀賷囟丕賸 丕賱鬲賷 乇兀鬲賿賴購 賮賷賴丕 丕賲乇兀鬲賴 賱賵賷爻丕貙 賵賴賵 賲丕 馗賱賻賾 賷亘丿賵 賲購爻鬲睾乇賻亘丕賸 賵乇亘賲丕 噩丕卅乇丕賸貙 賱兀賳賴丕 賰丕賳鬲賿 丕賲乇兀鬲賴貙 賵賰賳鬲購 兀賳丕 亘丕賱賲賯丕亘賱 丕賲乇兀丞 賲噩賴賵賱丞...禄
賴賰匕丕 鬲亘丿兀 芦睾乇丕賲賷丕鬲禄貙 乇賵丕賷丞 禺丕亘賷賷乇 賲丕乇賷丕爻 丕賱賰丕鬲亘 丕賱廿爻亘丕賳賷 丕賱賲賰乇爻 賰兀丨丿 兀賮囟賱 丕賱乇賵丕卅賷賷賳 丕賱賲毓丕氐乇賷賳 賮賷 丕賱毓丕賱賲.
亘賳孬乇 賲鬲兀賱賯 賵丌爻乇 鬲鬲兀賲賱 賴匕賴 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 丨賵賱 丨丕賱丕鬲 丕賱賵賯賵毓 賮賷 丕賱睾乇丕賲貙 廿賱賶 丨丿賾 鬲亘丿賵 賲毓賴 鬲爻賵賷睾賸丕 賱賰賱 丕賱兀卮賷丕亍 鬲賯乇賷亘丕賸: 丕賱兀毓賲丕賱 丕賱賳亘賷賱丞 賵丕賱賳夭賷賴丞貙 賵賱賰賳 兀賷囟丕賸 丕賱鬲噩丕賵夭丕鬲 賵丕賱丿賳丕亍丕鬲.
芦睾乇丕賲賷丕鬲禄 賴賷 兀賷囟賸丕 賰鬲丕亘 丨賵賱 丕賱廿賮賱丕鬲 賲賳 丕賱毓賯丕亘 賵丨賵賱 丕賱賯賵丞 丕賱乇賴賷亘丞 賱賱賵賯丕卅毓貨 丨賵賱 毓丿賲 賲賱丕亍賲丞 鬲賲賰賳 丕賱賲賵鬲賶 賲賳 丕賱乇噩賵毓貙 賲賴賲丕 亘賰賷賳丕賴賲 賵賲賴賲丕 亘丿丕 賮賷 丕賱馗丕賴乇 兀賳賳丕 賱丕 賳乇睾亘 賮賷 卮賷亍 賯丿乇 乇睾亘鬲賳丕 賮賷 毓賵丿鬲賴賲貨 賵賰匕賱賰 丨賵賱 丕爻鬲丨丕賱丞 丕賱鬲賵氐賱 廿賱賶 賲毓乇賮丞 丕賱丨賯賷賯丞 丕賱賰丕賲賱丞 兀亘丿丕賸..
賮賷 乇賵丕賷丞 睾乇丕賲賷丕鬲 賷毓賷丿 賲丕乇賷丕爻 丕亘鬲賰丕乇 乇賵丕賷丞 丕賱噩乇賷賲丞 賵賰兀賳賴丕 鬲丨賯賷賯 賲賷鬲丕賮賷夭賷賯賷貙 賵賷胤乇丨 兀爻卅賱丞 賵噩賵丿賷丞 毓賳 丕賱丨賷丕丞 賵丕賱賲賵鬲 賵毓賳 丕賱丨亘 賵丕賱禺賱賵丿.
賴賰匕丕 鬲亘丿兀 芦睾乇丕賲賷丕鬲禄貙 乇賵丕賷丞 禺丕亘賷賷乇 賲丕乇賷丕爻 丕賱賰丕鬲亘 丕賱廿爻亘丕賳賷 丕賱賲賰乇爻 賰兀丨丿 兀賮囟賱 丕賱乇賵丕卅賷賷賳 丕賱賲毓丕氐乇賷賳 賮賷 丕賱毓丕賱賲.
亘賳孬乇 賲鬲兀賱賯 賵丌爻乇 鬲鬲兀賲賱 賴匕賴 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 丨賵賱 丨丕賱丕鬲 丕賱賵賯賵毓 賮賷 丕賱睾乇丕賲貙 廿賱賶 丨丿賾 鬲亘丿賵 賲毓賴 鬲爻賵賷睾賸丕 賱賰賱 丕賱兀卮賷丕亍 鬲賯乇賷亘丕賸: 丕賱兀毓賲丕賱 丕賱賳亘賷賱丞 賵丕賱賳夭賷賴丞貙 賵賱賰賳 兀賷囟丕賸 丕賱鬲噩丕賵夭丕鬲 賵丕賱丿賳丕亍丕鬲.
芦睾乇丕賲賷丕鬲禄 賴賷 兀賷囟賸丕 賰鬲丕亘 丨賵賱 丕賱廿賮賱丕鬲 賲賳 丕賱毓賯丕亘 賵丨賵賱 丕賱賯賵丞 丕賱乇賴賷亘丞 賱賱賵賯丕卅毓貨 丨賵賱 毓丿賲 賲賱丕亍賲丞 鬲賲賰賳 丕賱賲賵鬲賶 賲賳 丕賱乇噩賵毓貙 賲賴賲丕 亘賰賷賳丕賴賲 賵賲賴賲丕 亘丿丕 賮賷 丕賱馗丕賴乇 兀賳賳丕 賱丕 賳乇睾亘 賮賷 卮賷亍 賯丿乇 乇睾亘鬲賳丕 賮賷 毓賵丿鬲賴賲貨 賵賰匕賱賰 丨賵賱 丕爻鬲丨丕賱丞 丕賱鬲賵氐賱 廿賱賶 賲毓乇賮丞 丕賱丨賯賷賯丞 丕賱賰丕賲賱丞 兀亘丿丕賸..
賮賷 乇賵丕賷丞 睾乇丕賲賷丕鬲 賷毓賷丿 賲丕乇賷丕爻 丕亘鬲賰丕乇 乇賵丕賷丞 丕賱噩乇賷賲丞 賵賰兀賳賴丕 鬲丨賯賷賯 賲賷鬲丕賮賷夭賷賯賷貙 賵賷胤乇丨 兀爻卅賱丞 賵噩賵丿賷丞 毓賳 丕賱丨賷丕丞 賵丕賱賲賵鬲 賵毓賳 丕賱丨亘 賵丕賱禺賱賵丿.
368 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2011
1192 people are currently reading
16424 people want to read
About the author
Javier Mar铆as
149听books2,362听followersJavier Mar铆as was a Spanish novelist, translator, and columnist. His work has been translated into 42 languages. Born in Madrid, his father was the philosopher Juli谩n Mar铆as, who was briefly imprisoned and then banned from teaching for opposing Franco. Parts of his childhood were spent in the United States, where his father taught at various institutions, including Yale University and Wellesley College. His mother died when Javier was 26 years old. He was educated at the Colegio Estudio in Madrid.
Mar铆as began writing in earnest at an early age. "The Life and Death of Marcelino Iturriaga", one of the short stories in While the Women are Sleeping (2010), was written when he was just 14. He wrote his first novel, "Los dominios del lobo" (The Dominions of the Wolf), at age 17, after running away to Paris.
Mar铆as operated a small publishing house under the name of Reino de Redonda. He also wrote a weekly column in El Pa铆s. An English version of his column "La Zona Fantasma" is published in the monthly magazine The Believer.
In 1997 Mar铆as won the Nelly Sachs Prize.
Mar铆as began writing in earnest at an early age. "The Life and Death of Marcelino Iturriaga", one of the short stories in While the Women are Sleeping (2010), was written when he was just 14. He wrote his first novel, "Los dominios del lobo" (The Dominions of the Wolf), at age 17, after running away to Paris.
Mar铆as operated a small publishing house under the name of Reino de Redonda. He also wrote a weekly column in El Pa铆s. An English version of his column "La Zona Fantasma" is published in the monthly magazine The Believer.
In 1997 Mar铆as won the Nelly Sachs Prize.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,815 reviews
January 19, 2018
A young woman (30-ish) works in a publishing house in Madrid. She has coffee every morning and for several years overhears conversations of a couple with their two young children who frequent the same caf茅. They never interact but she thinks of them as 鈥渢he perfect couple.鈥� She doesn鈥檛 know it yet but they notice her too and call her 鈥渢he prudent young woman.鈥�
One day she sees in the newspaper that the married man was murdered by a crazy knife-wielding homeless man. Sometime later she sees the widow by herself and goes up to her and offers condolences and eventually meets her at her home. At the widow鈥檚 home she meets a friend of the family and gets romantically involved with him.
This is where the real story starts. She learns that there鈥檚 a lot more to the murder. Her world is rocked and what she comes to know creates a number of moral dilemmas for her. It鈥檚 a story of love, death, fate, memory, guilt, obsession, chance and coincidence. It鈥檚 a study too of a woman going through the stages of grief.
Marias may be the best contemporary author from Spain. (I phrase it that way to distinguish between writers from Spain and Latin American Spanish authors). I鈥檝e read and reviewed two other works by Marias - Written Lives and Dark Back of Time. Some example of his writing and passages that I liked:
鈥淲riters are, for the most part, strange individuals. They get up in exactly the same state of mind as when they went to bed, thinking about imaginary things, which, despite being purely imaginary, take up most of their time.鈥�
When one suffers a misfortune, 鈥渢he effects on the victim far outlast the patience of those prepared to listen and accompany her, unconditional support never lasts very long once it has become tinged with monotony.鈥�
鈥淭he only people who do not fail or let us down are those who are snatched from us, the only ones we don鈥檛 drop are those who abruptly disappear and so have no time to cause us pain or disappointment.鈥�
鈥溾€here is nothing more tempting than to surrender yourself to someone else, even if only in your imagination, and to make his problems your own and to submerge yourself in his existence, which, because it is not yours, seems easier to bear.鈥�
Despite the heavy theme, Marias writes with humor:
Of a group of writers she takes to dinner on business: 鈥溾€ost of the guests looked strangely like flamenco artistes, and my main fear was that they might whip out their guitars from some strange hiding place and start singing loudly, between courses.鈥�
His upper lip became caught on his gums and 鈥渉e made some rather strange rodent-like movements with his lips.鈥�
鈥溾€e was wearing an argyle sweater, the kind of glasses a rapist or a maniac might wear鈥︹€�
This is prescient, written in 2011 long before any recent elections: 鈥溾€he greatest imbecile and the greatest rogue [may] gain a landslide victory from a population mesmerized by baseness or perhaps driven by a suicidal desire to be deceived鈥︹€�
Marias gives us some local color of Madrid and scatters references to works by Balzac and Dumas. This is well-written and very literary. I鈥檓 giving it a 5 and adding it to my favorites.
Photo of cafe in Madrid from wheretraveler.com
Photo of the author from newstatesman.com
One day she sees in the newspaper that the married man was murdered by a crazy knife-wielding homeless man. Sometime later she sees the widow by herself and goes up to her and offers condolences and eventually meets her at her home. At the widow鈥檚 home she meets a friend of the family and gets romantically involved with him.
This is where the real story starts. She learns that there鈥檚 a lot more to the murder. Her world is rocked and what she comes to know creates a number of moral dilemmas for her. It鈥檚 a story of love, death, fate, memory, guilt, obsession, chance and coincidence. It鈥檚 a study too of a woman going through the stages of grief.
Marias may be the best contemporary author from Spain. (I phrase it that way to distinguish between writers from Spain and Latin American Spanish authors). I鈥檝e read and reviewed two other works by Marias - Written Lives and Dark Back of Time. Some example of his writing and passages that I liked:
鈥淲riters are, for the most part, strange individuals. They get up in exactly the same state of mind as when they went to bed, thinking about imaginary things, which, despite being purely imaginary, take up most of their time.鈥�
When one suffers a misfortune, 鈥渢he effects on the victim far outlast the patience of those prepared to listen and accompany her, unconditional support never lasts very long once it has become tinged with monotony.鈥�
鈥淭he only people who do not fail or let us down are those who are snatched from us, the only ones we don鈥檛 drop are those who abruptly disappear and so have no time to cause us pain or disappointment.鈥�
鈥溾€here is nothing more tempting than to surrender yourself to someone else, even if only in your imagination, and to make his problems your own and to submerge yourself in his existence, which, because it is not yours, seems easier to bear.鈥�
Despite the heavy theme, Marias writes with humor:
Of a group of writers she takes to dinner on business: 鈥溾€ost of the guests looked strangely like flamenco artistes, and my main fear was that they might whip out their guitars from some strange hiding place and start singing loudly, between courses.鈥�
His upper lip became caught on his gums and 鈥渉e made some rather strange rodent-like movements with his lips.鈥�
鈥溾€e was wearing an argyle sweater, the kind of glasses a rapist or a maniac might wear鈥︹€�
This is prescient, written in 2011 long before any recent elections: 鈥溾€he greatest imbecile and the greatest rogue [may] gain a landslide victory from a population mesmerized by baseness or perhaps driven by a suicidal desire to be deceived鈥︹€�
Marias gives us some local color of Madrid and scatters references to works by Balzac and Dumas. This is well-written and very literary. I鈥檓 giving it a 5 and adding it to my favorites.
Photo of cafe in Madrid from wheretraveler.com
Photo of the author from newstatesman.com
August 4, 2014
I was moving this week, so I'm farther away from this than I wanted to be when I wrote this, but I can assure you that the strongest of my impressions have lasted enough to give you the gist of why I was so disappointed in this.
My major issue is, overall, that this is the sort of book that gives literary fiction a bad name. This is exactly the sort of thing that is the basis for pretension puncturing parodies with melodramatic lighting and unnecessarily florid language that people point to when you ask them why they don't want to read. This is that book, where people sit around in half lit rooms and have silent, weirdly distant sex in between pontificating to each other unbearably about philosophy. Moreover, it is the sort of dated philosophy where women still have lives that artfully revolve around men and men have the sort of Freudian, idea-driven obsessions that were fashionable to write about in the middle of the last century. The sort surrounded by cigarettes and brandy and intense gazes and five o'clock shadows. You know what I mean.
You know, that's it. That's what bothers me. This book seems like such a pose. Sure, there are a few things in here that rang true. I've had some thoughts in here, almost verbatim, that he writes down. But they are so banal, it's like going to a fortune teller and being totally amazed when she tells you that she can feel that you had trouble in your adolescence or made some bad choices with alcohol in college. So I don't know how much credit you can give it for that. It all felt like such a sham, like a set that Marias threw down that he felt was appropriate for some things he thought he wanted to say.
I mean, the thoughts he expressed went from banal to disturbing eventually, but that was okay because there was no suspense involved. The narrator guessed everything involved with the turn to the disturbing long before it came true (and seriously everything she guessed about a situation she knew nothing about involving people she knew nothing about was correct!). And if she didn't guess it, don't worry, it was condescendingly described to her in detail later. In case you needed more help still, no worries again, if the author thought the point was particularly important or just had a nice ring to it, you can be sure that it will be repeated, both verbatim and paraphrased, just so we Get It.
As for the characters, I didn't care for anyone involved, except for the monumentally screwed over Luisa, who doesn't get enough screen time for me to form the connection I wanted with her. The others are unremarkable, monsters, or overdone archetypes. The narrator was especially tiresome. So many of the emotional edges are blunted by the subdued manner of expression taken on here. The whole story is made into an almost theoretical discussion, like it is a parlor game that is happening to somebody else. I use "almost" advisedly, because of course it is not, and that is supposed to be part of the disturbing thing about it. But it wasn't- Marias was so much more interested in writing pages of rambling discourse about his ideas about the way the people experience grief, loss and obsession that he made his characters mouthpieces, rather than people.
If you stepped back and away from the substance of their discourse, the defining characteristic of the narrator is passive aggression and timidity. The defining characteristic of the villain is sadly misguided self-delusion. The major secondary character is simply a self-aggrandizing fool of a stereotype. They are mere chess pieces, placed at a certain vantage point and then given the thoughts that are most appropriate for them, divided up among them. And many of those thoughts do not sound natural to the characters, if they were actual people. Luckily, they are not. They are statues experiencing a Major Life Moment that Marias has Thoughts on, who speak for him, in an omniscient narrator voice that sounds the same no matter who is speaking.
He might just as well have written a short essay "On Grief and Obsession" and been done with it. The plot was close enough to a ripped from the headlines sort of thing that he could have done this as an examination of the motives of a real person. Did he need the cover of fiction so that the thoughts couldn't be mistaken for his own? Even though obviously, if they have occurred to him, they are? That's a weird sort of thought policing. Maybe it's a sin of the genre-boxing thing we do with authors- if you're famous as a novelist, then you should only write novels, that is the only structure through which you can express your thoughts and have people be interested in buying them. So you bend and twist the thing you really want to do into the novel form, however ill it fits. Maybe that's what was going on here. I wonder if some of the pseudo-intellectual banal thoughts would have seem fresh if they were examined in a True Crime sort of spirit. There were certainly some unsympathetic but I would imagine fairly common thoughts about what happens to the memory of people after they die, as well as the thought process of people who want something so badly they are willing to justify it however they can. It's interesting that in order to express them he put them in the mouth of a sociopathic monster and a person out of her mind with grief, so she can't be held responsible for what she's saying- again... it feels like he was disclaiming responsibility for unattractive thoughts. I don't think you can really argue that he was doing careful character building, not with what he spent the majority of his page allocation on. So that must be it? What other excuse is there for a character focused novel with a mission statement at the top of it, basically, declaring that it is a character study, to be so poor at building characters?
I am trying to be generous here in my thoughts about his motives or what went wrong. Too many people have told me too many excellent things about him for him to really write like this all the time. I have already been told that he has at least two books that are better than this. Can anyone back that up for me? It would be a shame if this was really the best he had to offer. Does he write like this all the time? Please say no!
My major issue is, overall, that this is the sort of book that gives literary fiction a bad name. This is exactly the sort of thing that is the basis for pretension puncturing parodies with melodramatic lighting and unnecessarily florid language that people point to when you ask them why they don't want to read. This is that book, where people sit around in half lit rooms and have silent, weirdly distant sex in between pontificating to each other unbearably about philosophy. Moreover, it is the sort of dated philosophy where women still have lives that artfully revolve around men and men have the sort of Freudian, idea-driven obsessions that were fashionable to write about in the middle of the last century. The sort surrounded by cigarettes and brandy and intense gazes and five o'clock shadows. You know what I mean.
You know, that's it. That's what bothers me. This book seems like such a pose. Sure, there are a few things in here that rang true. I've had some thoughts in here, almost verbatim, that he writes down. But they are so banal, it's like going to a fortune teller and being totally amazed when she tells you that she can feel that you had trouble in your adolescence or made some bad choices with alcohol in college. So I don't know how much credit you can give it for that. It all felt like such a sham, like a set that Marias threw down that he felt was appropriate for some things he thought he wanted to say.
I mean, the thoughts he expressed went from banal to disturbing eventually, but that was okay because there was no suspense involved. The narrator guessed everything involved with the turn to the disturbing long before it came true (and seriously everything she guessed about a situation she knew nothing about involving people she knew nothing about was correct!). And if she didn't guess it, don't worry, it was condescendingly described to her in detail later. In case you needed more help still, no worries again, if the author thought the point was particularly important or just had a nice ring to it, you can be sure that it will be repeated, both verbatim and paraphrased, just so we Get It.
As for the characters, I didn't care for anyone involved, except for the monumentally screwed over Luisa, who doesn't get enough screen time for me to form the connection I wanted with her. The others are unremarkable, monsters, or overdone archetypes. The narrator was especially tiresome. So many of the emotional edges are blunted by the subdued manner of expression taken on here. The whole story is made into an almost theoretical discussion, like it is a parlor game that is happening to somebody else. I use "almost" advisedly, because of course it is not, and that is supposed to be part of the disturbing thing about it. But it wasn't- Marias was so much more interested in writing pages of rambling discourse about his ideas about the way the people experience grief, loss and obsession that he made his characters mouthpieces, rather than people.
If you stepped back and away from the substance of their discourse, the defining characteristic of the narrator is passive aggression and timidity. The defining characteristic of the villain is sadly misguided self-delusion. The major secondary character is simply a self-aggrandizing fool of a stereotype. They are mere chess pieces, placed at a certain vantage point and then given the thoughts that are most appropriate for them, divided up among them. And many of those thoughts do not sound natural to the characters, if they were actual people. Luckily, they are not. They are statues experiencing a Major Life Moment that Marias has Thoughts on, who speak for him, in an omniscient narrator voice that sounds the same no matter who is speaking.
He might just as well have written a short essay "On Grief and Obsession" and been done with it. The plot was close enough to a ripped from the headlines sort of thing that he could have done this as an examination of the motives of a real person. Did he need the cover of fiction so that the thoughts couldn't be mistaken for his own? Even though obviously, if they have occurred to him, they are? That's a weird sort of thought policing. Maybe it's a sin of the genre-boxing thing we do with authors- if you're famous as a novelist, then you should only write novels, that is the only structure through which you can express your thoughts and have people be interested in buying them. So you bend and twist the thing you really want to do into the novel form, however ill it fits. Maybe that's what was going on here. I wonder if some of the pseudo-intellectual banal thoughts would have seem fresh if they were examined in a True Crime sort of spirit. There were certainly some unsympathetic but I would imagine fairly common thoughts about what happens to the memory of people after they die, as well as the thought process of people who want something so badly they are willing to justify it however they can. It's interesting that in order to express them he put them in the mouth of a sociopathic monster and a person out of her mind with grief, so she can't be held responsible for what she's saying- again... it feels like he was disclaiming responsibility for unattractive thoughts. I don't think you can really argue that he was doing careful character building, not with what he spent the majority of his page allocation on. So that must be it? What other excuse is there for a character focused novel with a mission statement at the top of it, basically, declaring that it is a character study, to be so poor at building characters?
I am trying to be generous here in my thoughts about his motives or what went wrong. Too many people have told me too many excellent things about him for him to really write like this all the time. I have already been told that he has at least two books that are better than this. Can anyone back that up for me? It would be a shame if this was really the best he had to offer. Does he write like this all the time? Please say no!
March 5, 2022
This review is going to be a tricky undertaking. You see, I found the writing to be remarkable! And there is no doubt in my mind that Javier Mar铆as has been gifted with loads of perception regarding human behavior and psychology. There鈥檚 also the fact that I was completely grabbed from the very first sentence. That compulsion to keep reading lasted for quite a while. But then, after the first third to midway through, my attention started to waver. I would become totally engrossed in some keen insight, and then that idea would be taken a bit too far and I would lose interest. I had to take a break and let my mind rest. Upon picking it back up, I was once again fully invested in the story. Later, a similar idea would be presented, and I found that it felt somewhat repetitive, or worse yet, like beating a dead horse. Then I reached the last third of the book 鈥� and I was off and running again. I was all in until the end. So there鈥檚 the dilemma!
鈥淭he last time I saw Miguel Desvern was also the last time that his wife, Luisa, saw him, which seemed strange, perhaps unfair, given that she was his wife, while I, on the other hand, was a person he had never met, a woman with whom he had never exchanged so much as a single word.鈥�
From the first page, Mar铆as sets the tone for a rather provocative mystery. It鈥檚 told in this first person narration throughout. As usual, with this point of view, the reader is never sure exactly where reality ends and imagination begins 鈥� particularly when we have a teaser like this right from the start. How on earth would our narrator, a young woman named Mar铆a, be able to recount a story about a man she had never met?! Needless to say, her telling of these events and the other people involved is as muddy as one would expect. There鈥檚 a ton of speculation on her part. There are entire pages devoted to her idea of what someone else must have been thinking. This went so far that I often had to make sure there wasn鈥檛 someone else actually speaking to her at the moment. That these were indeed just her 鈥渞eenactments鈥� of the events of sorts. Her own private guesswork, if you will. She鈥檚 a big analyzer, and one often wonders how much she projects of herself onto her meditations about the others.
鈥淚 used to wonder what they talked about or told each other 鈥� how could they possibly have so much to say, given that they went to bed and got up together and would presumably keep each other informed of their thoughts and activities 鈥� I only ever caught fragments of their conversation, or just the odd word or two.鈥�
There are really just a small number of characters that inhabit this novel. Besides Mar铆a, there is the married couple referred to in the quote above, Miguel and Luisa, as well as their close family friend, Javier. In my opinion, it begins with a bit of voyeurism, as Mar铆a frequents the coffee shop where she fantasizes about Miguel and Luisa. They become a stable presence in her life, one that she depends on, regardless of the fact they never speak to one another. When they no longer show up one morning, her world is disrupted. We quickly learn the reasons for this and for the premise of the entire novel, which galloped away at a nice pace for me initially. She is eventually drawn into Luisa鈥檚 life. I won鈥檛 dwell on the details any further, but needless to say the title is quite fitting. There is more than just one infatuation here, as well as a perceptive examination of death, grief, relationships and perhaps even obsession.
鈥溾€� sooner or later, the grieving person is left alone when she has still not finished grieving or when she鈥檚 no longer allowed to talk about what remains her only world, because other people find that world of grief unbearable, repellent. She understands that for them sadness has a social expiry date鈥︹€�
The concept of truth is put under the microscope for some thorough scrutiny. I had a sense the author is playing with the reader, challenging him or her to question everything written on these pages. He also takes jabs at writers themselves and what one takes away from a novel or perhaps even a film. The line between reality and fantasy is blurred. The reader has to come to his or her own conclusions. What is truth and how can we ever be sure that what is whispered in our ear is the truth, a lie, or some other person鈥檚 version of the truth? Our own expectations and desires often get in the way of how we interpret what we see and hear.
鈥淭he truth is never clear, it鈥檚 always a tangled mess. Even when you get to the bottom of it. But in real life almost no one needs to find the truth or devote himself to investigating anything, that only happens in puerile novels.鈥�
The more I think about this, the more I realize how much I admired the skill in the writing, the intellect of the author, and the clever observations. Despite any problems I had with what at times felt like a tendency to overanalyze, all on the part of the narrator, I still found it thought-provoking. Don鈥檛 go into this expecting some sort of typical whodunit (I did not), because it鈥檚 really not that at all. There is tension to the story but not in an edge-of-your-seat kind of way. It鈥檚 all about the psychology here this time, and I can get on board with that!
鈥淭here was something improbable and unreal about the whole situation, like a dark, defamatory dream that weighs unbearably on our soul鈥︹€�
鈥淭he last time I saw Miguel Desvern was also the last time that his wife, Luisa, saw him, which seemed strange, perhaps unfair, given that she was his wife, while I, on the other hand, was a person he had never met, a woman with whom he had never exchanged so much as a single word.鈥�
From the first page, Mar铆as sets the tone for a rather provocative mystery. It鈥檚 told in this first person narration throughout. As usual, with this point of view, the reader is never sure exactly where reality ends and imagination begins 鈥� particularly when we have a teaser like this right from the start. How on earth would our narrator, a young woman named Mar铆a, be able to recount a story about a man she had never met?! Needless to say, her telling of these events and the other people involved is as muddy as one would expect. There鈥檚 a ton of speculation on her part. There are entire pages devoted to her idea of what someone else must have been thinking. This went so far that I often had to make sure there wasn鈥檛 someone else actually speaking to her at the moment. That these were indeed just her 鈥渞eenactments鈥� of the events of sorts. Her own private guesswork, if you will. She鈥檚 a big analyzer, and one often wonders how much she projects of herself onto her meditations about the others.
鈥淚 used to wonder what they talked about or told each other 鈥� how could they possibly have so much to say, given that they went to bed and got up together and would presumably keep each other informed of their thoughts and activities 鈥� I only ever caught fragments of their conversation, or just the odd word or two.鈥�
There are really just a small number of characters that inhabit this novel. Besides Mar铆a, there is the married couple referred to in the quote above, Miguel and Luisa, as well as their close family friend, Javier. In my opinion, it begins with a bit of voyeurism, as Mar铆a frequents the coffee shop where she fantasizes about Miguel and Luisa. They become a stable presence in her life, one that she depends on, regardless of the fact they never speak to one another. When they no longer show up one morning, her world is disrupted. We quickly learn the reasons for this and for the premise of the entire novel, which galloped away at a nice pace for me initially. She is eventually drawn into Luisa鈥檚 life. I won鈥檛 dwell on the details any further, but needless to say the title is quite fitting. There is more than just one infatuation here, as well as a perceptive examination of death, grief, relationships and perhaps even obsession.
鈥溾€� sooner or later, the grieving person is left alone when she has still not finished grieving or when she鈥檚 no longer allowed to talk about what remains her only world, because other people find that world of grief unbearable, repellent. She understands that for them sadness has a social expiry date鈥︹€�
The concept of truth is put under the microscope for some thorough scrutiny. I had a sense the author is playing with the reader, challenging him or her to question everything written on these pages. He also takes jabs at writers themselves and what one takes away from a novel or perhaps even a film. The line between reality and fantasy is blurred. The reader has to come to his or her own conclusions. What is truth and how can we ever be sure that what is whispered in our ear is the truth, a lie, or some other person鈥檚 version of the truth? Our own expectations and desires often get in the way of how we interpret what we see and hear.
鈥淭he truth is never clear, it鈥檚 always a tangled mess. Even when you get to the bottom of it. But in real life almost no one needs to find the truth or devote himself to investigating anything, that only happens in puerile novels.鈥�
The more I think about this, the more I realize how much I admired the skill in the writing, the intellect of the author, and the clever observations. Despite any problems I had with what at times felt like a tendency to overanalyze, all on the part of the narrator, I still found it thought-provoking. Don鈥檛 go into this expecting some sort of typical whodunit (I did not), because it鈥檚 really not that at all. There is tension to the story but not in an edge-of-your-seat kind of way. It鈥檚 all about the psychology here this time, and I can get on board with that!
鈥淭here was something improbable and unreal about the whole situation, like a dark, defamatory dream that weighs unbearably on our soul鈥︹€�
May 4, 2013
A murderer, nothing more.Truth is not always an easy thing to come by. Any event that occurs reaches our ears and eyes from a vast assortment of new media, eyewitnesses, and other second-hand accounts, each with their own unique perspectives and agendas that all encode the same message into infinitely variable packages of information. We all become amateur detectives, sifting through the various accounts to decipher what we choose to believe, and thus creating our own unique perspectives of an event that we will inevitably pass along through our interactions and conversations with others. Javier Mar铆as鈥� 2013 novel, Los Enamoramientos鈥攔e-dressed as The Infatuations to best accommodate the English language鈥攊s an incredible exploration of the detective work we all must undergo when attempting to deduct any semblance of truth about even the most seemingly common of tragedies that cross our paths. What is truly astounding is Mar铆as' ability to create a novel with the exciting two-faced dealings and baffling plot twists typically found in fast action, blood-soaked thrillers out of a collaboration of scenes mainly comprised of late-night dialogues over a glass of wine in a quiet living room. Through a re-examination of Mar铆as' standard themes of mortality and language, The Infatuations explores with prodigious depth the effects of death on the surrounding survivors lives as well as the labyrinthine complexities of trying to understand material reality through the fallible and distorted words of others.
Irreversible, unpredictable death casts its grim shadow across every page of the novel. Maria, the young female narrator working for a modern publishing house learns that the husband of a loving and attractive couple whom she has studied and admired from afar for years during her daily breakfast at a Madrid caf茅 has been brutally stabbed to death by a homeless man in a vacant street beneath the indifferent night sky. The reader follows Maria as the lives of the friends and family to the deceased Miguel enfolding around her while she plunges inwards towards the murder, each bestowing upon her their unique attitudes regarding death. Through the widow we see experience the loneliness and the shock of having an essential extension of their livelihoods stricken from existence, while through Javier鈥攖he deceased鈥檚 closest friend鈥攚e are treated to a seemingly calloused yet realistic perspective that those left alive must soldier forth and not bemoan past sorrows that inevitably shape us into the person we are at present.
We mourn our father, for example, but we are left with a legacy, his house, his money and his worldly goods, which we would have to give back to him were he to return, which would put us in a very awkward position and cause us great distress. We might mourn a wife or a husband, but sometimes we discover, although this may take a while, that we live more happily and more comfortably without them or, if we are not too advanced in years, that we can begin anew, with the whole of humanity at our disposal, as it was when we were young; the possibility of choosing without making the old mistakes; the relief of not having to put up with certain annoying habits, because there is always something that annoys us about the person who is always there, at our side or in front or behind or ahead, because marriage surrounds and encircles. We mourn a great writer or a great artist when he or she dies, but there is a certain joy to be had from knowing that the world has become a little more vulgar and a little poorer, and that our own vulgarity and poverty will thus be better hidden or disguised; that he or she is no longer there to underline our own relative mediocrity; that talent in general has taken another step towards disappearing from the face of the earth or slipping further back into the past, from which it should never emerge, where it should remain imprisoned so as not to affront us except perhaps retrospectively, which is less wounding and more bearable. I am speaking of the majority, of course, not everyone.While we mourn the lives that have been snuffed out, Javier posits that we must look to the future, the future left to those still retaining a pulse, and make the best of what we have. Our lives are a culmination of each event we experience and our lives are fragile and ephemeral, we should not waste the opportunities we have before the great mystery of death closes it鈥檚 inevitable curtains on our story. This viewpoint is initially jarring, however, as light is shed on the motives and character of Javier, we see that the opinions one holds reflect those that are in the best interest of the beholder鈥攚e rationalize our reality to accommodate our actions. What is aesthetically pleasing of this European edition of the novel is the thick black pages that precede and follow the novel, as well as the black hardback, which seem to reflect Javier鈥檚 presumed belief of death as being a void-like eternity mirroring the time we spend before birth. The novel itself then becomes the interactions of life between the bookends of eternity.
While we miss and long for those gone before us, the return of a person thought deceased may not be the happy reunion we all would fantasize it to be. Through a dissection of Balzac鈥檚 , Javier expounds the disastrous implications of such a from-the-grave return to Maria.
The worst thing that can happen to anyone, worse than death itself, and the worst thing one can make others dois to return from the place from which no one returns, to come back to life at the wrong time, when you are no longer expected, when it is too late and inappropriate, when the living have assumed you are over and done with and have continued or taken up their lives again, leaving no room for you at all.Our deaths become just another event, and life is made for moving on. Maria also offers her own dissertation into the return of one thought dead, reciting passages form when Athos鈥� fleur-de-lys adorned wife returns, seemingly from the grave in which he thought he had put her, as a sinful, murderous villain aligned with the enemy. We all play our part in the human comedy, but sometimes when our role has been written out of the lives of others, it is best to remain in the wings and not to reemerge, for our return, brining with it a heavy weight of former selves, no longer has a place in their lives now altered and reshaped by the hands of time. What is important to note is that these are truths held by the characters, and for reasons held hidden in their hearts but offer glimpses into their true motivations. Maria knows her affair with Javier has an expiration date, and that his real aim is with Luisa, the widow, for why else would he preach the importance of putting the dead behind us?
I would never know more than what he told me, and so I would never know anything for sure鈥�Language is central to any work of Mar铆as, and the plot is a convenient vessel in which he can explore the intricacies of words. once said that 鈥榣anguage is an artificial system which has nothing to do with reality.鈥� 鹿 Borges often examined the dualities of existence, the universe of physical material and action, and the universe of words, the latter being the method in which we attempts to convey the former. However, language can only probe essence of physical reality, can only build a model or imperfect mirror of it, and can never accurately reconstruct reality aside from giving a cathartic experience. With The Infatuations, Mar铆as explores such imperfections and their effect on our attempts to reach any sort of truth. When someone speaks, they encode their message, their beliefs and intentions, into words, which are they decoded by the receiver. Each party exists in their own realm of perspectives built from preconceived opinions, agendas and experiences that must inevitably interact with their packaging and unpacking of any message, refurbishing it to our particular (and often subconscious) needs. Each message we receive shapes our opinions, from framing a new idea in our mid, reinforcing a previous belief, to offering contradictory or supplemental information that will alter our previous opinions. Mar铆as delivers his novel in a method that takes the reader on a turbulent ride of altering opinions all filtered through the mind of the narrator. Long 鈥榳hat if鈥� scenarios play out in her mind, lengthy and engrossing enough for the reader to lower their guard and allow the information to shape their opinions, and the opinions formed then meet with actual interactions of the character. The preconceived notions constructed towards characters like Javier latch on to anything congruous and gives the reader a sense that they understand his motives and intentions. However, once new information accrues, we must reassess what we know, or think we know, as the truth wiggles and squirms just beyond our outstretched fingertips.
Everything becomes a story and ends up drifting about in the same sphere, and then it鈥檚 hard to differentiate between what really happened and what is pure invention. Everything becomes a narrative and sounds fictitious even if it鈥檚 true.As soon as we attempt to place material reality into words, we create a story, a unique perspective on an event tainted by our words and opinions. Even recounting mundane events forms a narrative of events that give a spin on reality. Truth is an unobtainable purity, like an asymptote it is something that we can reach for but never truly touch; the closest we can come to it through all our reshaping of opinions with each new version we encounter, is simply our own perspective of truth which, due to language, can never fully be the ideal 'truth' of events. Maria, and the reader must question any new information that is told to them, or heard in fragments through a closed bedroom door. What becomes particularly perplexing is realizing that everything the reader receives only occurs through the mind of Maria, and the reader must then not only run through the possible motives of those speaking to Maria, but also assess the motives and perspectives of Maria herself.
El enamoramiento - the state of falling or being in love, or perhaps infatuation. I鈥檓 referring to the noun, the concept鈥� it鈥檚 very rare to have a weakness, a genuine weakness for someone, and for that someone to provoke in us that feeling of weakness. That鈥檚 the determining factor, they break down our objectivity and disarm us in perpetuity, so that we can in over every dispute鈥�Who can be sure that any character is acting rationally, speaking truthfully, assessing any situation accurately, when their eyes are clouded by infatuation? While a murder and the mystery of why it occurred is central to the plot, the answers are superfluous; it is the examination of the attempt towards the answers, the probing of truth, that Mar铆as parades in eloquent speech and ponderous musings for the reader to satisfy themselves upon. It is the deduction of each jigsaw piece, the faith in our ability to read others, the emotion of the chase and the game, that shines in incredible glory from each page of the novel. The reader is constantly met with discussions of perspectives and different 鈥榲ersions鈥� of truth, from varying translations and editions of , contradictory eyewitness testimonies of Miguel鈥檚 murder, to interesting artistic interpretations of Adam And Eve.
As in each Mar铆as novel, the narrator and those around them are compelled to spill their stories; there is an utter compulsion to speak and let their version of the truth be heard. In Mar铆as 鈥� phenomenal novel , he highlights this desire to step out of the shadows and share what lurks within the dark recesses of the mind and heart.
[T]hey have merely been overcome or motivated by weariness and a desire to be whole, by their inability to continue lying or keeping silent, to go on remembering what they experienced and did as well as what they imagined, to go on remembering their transformed or invented lives as well as those they actually lived, to forget what really happened and to replace it with a fiction.These truths, or half-truths, are itching to come to life, and once they are spoken, they become the property of all those who have heard them, free to be reshaped by perspectives and passed along through endless permutations of fact and fiction. As Maria recounts her journey inward, she tells of characters as they attempt to distance themselves from the murder. However, can putting more versions of the truth between oneself and an event truly remove them from the violence? Does distancing oneself through chance remove responsibility? What is especially interesting to examine is that each opinion expressed is a reflection of the Teller. Maria, a character of Javier Marias, often paints in broad strokes while describing the motives and inner workings of women. This is initially troublesome, especially as women are depicted as subservient beings that pine after men and hang on their every action, giving the book a bit of a sexist taste. However, when remembering that these opinions belong to those of Maria, a character that just so happens to be rather submissive and infatuated as best serves the nature of the novel, it becomes understandable that she would assume that her feelings and actions are a generic representation of other women. As expressed in , 鈥�our idea of justice changes according to our needs, and we always think that what we need is equivalent to what is just.鈥� 虏 Maria鈥檚 opinions on women serve to support her own needs, justifying her actions by believing that it is just the way people act.
While the journey is a bit rocky and certain aspects seem distasteful or cumbersome when they first occur, this is a novel that rewards the patient as everything is eventually weaved together to form an impressively poignant final amalgamation of the individual parts. Mar铆as once again proves himself a master of language, with fantastic flowing discussions of death and carefully crafted sentences that ensure their linguistic subtleties will survive the repacking of translation. There are a few comical moments discussing authors, and a few vitriolic stabs at pretentious contemporary writing trends, that bring Mar铆as鈥� own job as a translator at a publishing house to mind and wonder where his inspirations came from (there are a few jabs seemingly directed at himself as well that are sure to bring a smile). Despite having a slow burning story packed with philosophical reflections, this novel is full of incredible twists and turns that will keep the reader feverishly flipping the pages. This is a fantastic novel, but is best suited to those who are already familiar with Javier Mar铆as.
4/5
鈥�There鈥檚 nothing like sharing round the guilt if you want to emerge from a murky situation smelling of roses.鈥�
鹿 A translation of The following discussion on Borges in this review relies heavily on ideas expressed in stories such as .
虏 As well as re-examining several themes from TitBToM, fans of the author will be glad to see the return of Ruib茅rriz de Torres (also spotlighted in ). Marias seemingly makes Madrid his own Yoknapatawpha through his reoccurring characters and themes that bring the streets and underworld of his fictional Madrid to life and allow the reader repeat visits.
I highly recommend reading (who first introduced me to this wonderful author), as well as fantastic reviews. It was a pleasure reading and discussing this book together.
January 27, 2021
鈥溾€� lo segu铆a queriendo y mi conocimiento de lo que hab铆a hecho me daba asco; no 茅l, sino mi conocimiento.鈥�Admiro a Javier Mar铆as, lo admiro como novelista, aunque no fuera una admiraci贸n a primera vista, admiro la valent铆a que muestra en sus art铆culos period铆sticos pese a no comulgar siempre con su contenido, hasta disfruto de sus arrebatos incendiarios en contra de las tonter铆as, pol铆ticamente correctas o no, con las que tanto majadero se pone en rid铆culo, pero no siento por 茅l ni de lejos ese enamoramiento del que aqu铆 nos habla, ese capaz de hacerme sentir conforme con cualquier migaja que me ofrezca, que me obligue a interesarme por todo aquello por lo que 茅l muestre inter茅s, no siento esa debilidad, esa enfermedad del enamoramiento que me har铆a rendirme a cualquier cosa que de 茅l viniera. Ni falta que hace, me dir铆a 茅l con toda la raz贸n del mundo, ni falta que hace.
Pero as铆 es, no me conformo con estas migajas que para m铆 han sido 鈥淟os enamoramientos鈥�, por mucho que me haya divertido en ciertos momentos, por mucho que haya disfrutado de algunos de sus soliloquios. Me tiene acostumbrado a m谩s y no me puedo conformar con menos, no con 茅l.
Todos aquellos que le seguimos sabemos c贸mo ser谩 el cicerone que nos gu铆e en cada novela 鈥攁unque en este caso sea una mujer no esper谩bamos otra cosa鈥�, un narrador-personaje obsesivo con los detalles, con las palabras, con los gestos, con sus significados, con sus intenciones, con las relaciones con otros detalles, con otras palabras, con otros gestos, dando pie casi cada uno de ellos a un pensamiento, a una explicaci贸n, a un relato, un afluente que ya no es el r铆o pero por el que fluyen las mismas aguas; un aficionado a subirse al p煤lpito para despacharse a gusto contra modos y maneras, enemigo a muerte de la estupidez que tanto abunda, m谩s feroz cuanto m谩s popular sea, y cuya voz, sin apenas variaciones, ir谩 prestando a todos y a cada uno de los personajes de la novela que gustosos completar谩n, matizar谩n, ampliar谩n el discurso de nuestro siempre educado, culto, elegante y hasta algo pedante cicerone. Todo ello envuelto en una trama m铆nima, la justa y necesaria para el provechoso desarrollo del discurso que toque. Algo que no me molesta en absoluto, coincido plenamente con Lobo Antunes cuando dice aquello de que 鈥渓a intriga muchas veces no es m谩s que el clavo del cual se cuelgan los cuadros鈥�.
Pues bien, ser谩 esa inquebrantable seguridad en la que vive qui茅n se siente amado en esos t茅rminos, mayor aun si adem谩s no corresponde en la misma medida, que no he apreciado mucho esfuerzo, fundamentalmente en la primera mitad de la novela, por conseguir que esa m铆nima trama engarce de forma h谩bil y veros铆mil (aunque la vida est茅 llena de verdades inveros铆miles, eso no lo hace menos bochornoso, por utilizar una expresi贸n suya), las perlas que, sin duda, tambi茅n esta obra contiene, aunque est茅n tal mal acompa帽adas de un buen surtido de baratijas, m谩s abundantes que lo habitual, trivialidades que no dejan de serlo por muy bella que sea la forma de exponerlas ni por muchas vueltas, rodeos y perspectivas que sobre ellas y de ellas se d茅. Es m谩s, qu茅 baj贸n en el discurso cuando por fin coge empaque la trama en la segunda mitad. Quiz谩 en parte porque las cegueras del enamoramiento, punto fuerte de esta segunda parte, me interesan menos que la tragedia que significa la muerte, tema que centra la primera.
Y tiene raz贸n Mar铆as al afirmar que pasado un tiempo da igual lo que ocurra en las novelas que 鈥淟o interesante son las posibilidades e ideas que nos inoculan y traen a trav茅s de sus casos imaginarios鈥�, sobre todo a los que, como yo, somos tirando a pez. Pero es que en esta ocasi贸n mucho de lo que en ella sucede suena forzado 鈥攁lgo que con gran disgusto le铆 que achacaba al mism铆simo Zola鈥�, muy tra铆do por los pelos, tanto que el autor mismo se vio en la necesidad de dar m谩s de una vez un sinf铆n de explicaciones que, lamentablemente, m谩s que desenredar el entuerto hac铆an m谩s patente lo artificioso de lo explicado. Tanto que, dado el sentimiento que con el autor tengo, llego a pensar que fue intencionado, que es buscada la parodia de esta vida est煤pida, tan llena de casualidades inauditas, de razones disparatadas, de rebuscadas situaciones, donde tiene cabida 鈥渓o inveros铆mil y aun lo imposible, lo que ni siquiera cab铆a en el c谩lculo de probabilidades por el que nos regimos鈥�. O, y esto ya es rizar el rizo, soy capaz de ver en 鈥淟os enamoramientos鈥� nada m谩s que un mero anuncio publicitario de la edici贸n que hizo Reino de Redonda de algunas 鈥渘ouvelles鈥� de Balzac, algo que, de hecho, es en cualquier caso. Ni siquiera, y ya termino, tuvo el detalle de agradarme con el final justiciero que yo hubiera preferido arroj谩ndome un buen pu帽ado de la impunidad de la que tantos y tantos hechos disfrutan en la vida real.
Y a pesar de todo seguir茅 leyendo a Mar铆as, no quiero que esta lectura sea 鈥渓o 煤nico verdadero, y adem谩s definitivo鈥� por ser precisamente lo 煤ltimo que de 茅l lea, no quiero, como tan bien se argumenta en la novela, que este sea el final que todo lo enturbie, que todo el pasado contamine. Al fin y al cabo鈥�
鈥淪铆, es muy grave, es muy grave. Pero es 茅l, a煤n es 茅l鈥� Un hombre normal en esencia, que hab铆a hecho una sola excepci贸n.鈥�
February 3, 2017
With a delicately eerie depth of intelligence and using a hypnotic style Javier Mar铆as weaves a skillful and deceiving story set in the heart of modern Madrid involving a murder, the reasons for, and the aftermath. But for anyone hoping for a thrilling crime mystery you will end up disappointed, and I feel some negative reviews are not wholly the fault of the book itself, but rather people are to believe it's something along those lines when clearly it is not. This is not a thriller, no where near it, yes there are some taut moments here and there but generally speaking it's built more on the personal themes of love, fate, our human nature for desire and real-life fantasy's and there consequences. Could it be just a tale of love then?, yes and no would be the answer, although it sits far better in this corner than that of any murder mystery.
In terms of characters there really are only a few, giving it a intimate and closed in dimension where everything takes place either in the confinements of bedrooms, living area's or to start off with a caf茅, which is the point we see through the eyes of Mar铆a Dolz who frequents here on a daily basis before going to work, and comes to notice the same attractive couple (Miguel & Luisa) who appear at the same caf茅 everyday. She starts to become transfixed with them, visualizing what their lives must be like, she sees this as part of her daily routine, until one day they fail to appear, and the following days after. Mar铆a would learn that the man was murdered in the street in an apparent knife attack by a crazed homeless man. After seeing Luisa in the caf茅 again one day she approaches to offer her condolences, strangely she opens up to Mar铆a and they almost immediately seem like friends.
I say there were only a few characters, and that would soon be whittled down to just two for the most part, Mar铆a Dolz and the shady but desirable D铆az-Varela, who was a very close friend of Luisa's murdered husband. Both become attracted after a chance meeting and the desire for each other takes hold for a while. But when she secretly overhears a conversation between D铆az-Varela and an unknown figure at his home Mar铆a's cozy world would chillingly become lost in a battle of wits and deception, could she have been imagining things?, if not just what on earth has D铆az-Varela been up to?, how can she suddenly change her feeling for him in the blink of an eye? and more importantly is she safe in his presence?. In a mesmerizing final third things do borderline with suspense, at least to some degree, where what is to be believed or not believed for Maria takes center stage, and the fact of an open ended finale leaves you pondering. But as stated before this is an exploration of the desirable psyche, and depths of love and mortality. An impressive piece of writing indeed.
In terms of characters there really are only a few, giving it a intimate and closed in dimension where everything takes place either in the confinements of bedrooms, living area's or to start off with a caf茅, which is the point we see through the eyes of Mar铆a Dolz who frequents here on a daily basis before going to work, and comes to notice the same attractive couple (Miguel & Luisa) who appear at the same caf茅 everyday. She starts to become transfixed with them, visualizing what their lives must be like, she sees this as part of her daily routine, until one day they fail to appear, and the following days after. Mar铆a would learn that the man was murdered in the street in an apparent knife attack by a crazed homeless man. After seeing Luisa in the caf茅 again one day she approaches to offer her condolences, strangely she opens up to Mar铆a and they almost immediately seem like friends.
I say there were only a few characters, and that would soon be whittled down to just two for the most part, Mar铆a Dolz and the shady but desirable D铆az-Varela, who was a very close friend of Luisa's murdered husband. Both become attracted after a chance meeting and the desire for each other takes hold for a while. But when she secretly overhears a conversation between D铆az-Varela and an unknown figure at his home Mar铆a's cozy world would chillingly become lost in a battle of wits and deception, could she have been imagining things?, if not just what on earth has D铆az-Varela been up to?, how can she suddenly change her feeling for him in the blink of an eye? and more importantly is she safe in his presence?. In a mesmerizing final third things do borderline with suspense, at least to some degree, where what is to be believed or not believed for Maria takes center stage, and the fact of an open ended finale leaves you pondering. But as stated before this is an exploration of the desirable psyche, and depths of love and mortality. An impressive piece of writing indeed.
February 9, 2017
"The Infatuations", written by Spanish writer, Javier Marias,
begins with a murder. It's brilliantly and seductively written - with mesmerizing passages on every page. There was even a very powerful passage about a mother - who clearly loves her children - but just can't cope with them at the moment - wishes she didn't have to - as they weighed too much on her. Her husband was dead - with two small children ---( this passage went on - powerfully - for pages). I thought about my mother, when I, too, was 4 years old... and her husband - my dad - was dead. The writing was so 'all-knowing', that I got inside my mother's head getting inside my 4 year old head! It was spooky-truthful.
This is very first sentence of "The Infatuations", captured my attention immediately:
"The last time I saw Miguel Desvern or Deverne was also the last time his wife,
Luisa, saw him, which seemed strange, perhaps unfair, given that she was his wife, while I, on the other hand, was a person he had never met, a woman with whom he had never exchanged so much a single word".
The aura is eerie....with a slow unraveling suspense. Themes...'layers-deep' about love, life, envy, morality, .... with penetrating long reflective paragraphs.
Maria Dolz, flawless narrator for this story, is a publishers editor. She is fascinated by a 'perfect couple' she observes daily in a cafe every morning over breakfast. She enjoys watching how happy they look together. She idolizes them both. One day they don't show up. Later she learns the husband was murdered. Later.... she becomes friends with the wife.
It's not a long book -no reason to spell out the details....but it's the WRITING - THE FEW CHARACTERS - and the entire TONE of this novel that had me FULLY INTRIGUED.
Captivating!!! I liked this book VERY MUCH!
begins with a murder. It's brilliantly and seductively written - with mesmerizing passages on every page. There was even a very powerful passage about a mother - who clearly loves her children - but just can't cope with them at the moment - wishes she didn't have to - as they weighed too much on her. Her husband was dead - with two small children ---( this passage went on - powerfully - for pages). I thought about my mother, when I, too, was 4 years old... and her husband - my dad - was dead. The writing was so 'all-knowing', that I got inside my mother's head getting inside my 4 year old head! It was spooky-truthful.
This is very first sentence of "The Infatuations", captured my attention immediately:
"The last time I saw Miguel Desvern or Deverne was also the last time his wife,
Luisa, saw him, which seemed strange, perhaps unfair, given that she was his wife, while I, on the other hand, was a person he had never met, a woman with whom he had never exchanged so much a single word".
The aura is eerie....with a slow unraveling suspense. Themes...'layers-deep' about love, life, envy, morality, .... with penetrating long reflective paragraphs.
Maria Dolz, flawless narrator for this story, is a publishers editor. She is fascinated by a 'perfect couple' she observes daily in a cafe every morning over breakfast. She enjoys watching how happy they look together. She idolizes them both. One day they don't show up. Later she learns the husband was murdered. Later.... she becomes friends with the wife.
It's not a long book -no reason to spell out the details....but it's the WRITING - THE FEW CHARACTERS - and the entire TONE of this novel that had me FULLY INTRIGUED.
Captivating!!! I liked this book VERY MUCH!
June 23, 2014
Una novela literaria que requiere un lector atento. Tiene suspenso, pero el argumento es lo de menos, lo que m谩s interesa es la filosof铆a del autor.
May 28, 2015
I had such high hopes for this. The reviews have been glowing. Everyone seemed to be talking about it. And I've been trying to read more translations. At first the premise and subject matter seemed promising - and the first few extended conversations were quite interesting.
But then ... Blah blah blah. Blah Blah Blah Blah. Blah Blah Blah. The talking and talking and talking and then thinking (internal talking) and more talking and more talking. Please - I'm drowning in the middle of sentences that are paragraphs long. And paragraphs that seem to reach to infinity. And then by the time something did actually happen, I didn't care anymore. About anyone or anything in the book. I kept going - feeling that I'd already invested too much time and brainpower to quit - but it was a slog. If I had to do it over I would have abandoned it at 100 pages. Blah.
But then ... Blah blah blah. Blah Blah Blah Blah. Blah Blah Blah. The talking and talking and talking and then thinking (internal talking) and more talking and more talking. Please - I'm drowning in the middle of sentences that are paragraphs long. And paragraphs that seem to reach to infinity. And then by the time something did actually happen, I didn't care anymore. About anyone or anything in the book. I kept going - feeling that I'd already invested too much time and brainpower to quit - but it was a slog. If I had to do it over I would have abandoned it at 100 pages. Blah.
February 6, 2020
賲賳 賳賵毓 丕賱乇賵丕賷丕鬲 丕賱賱賷 賷賮丕噩卅 丕賱賯丕乇卅 亘乇賯鬲賴 賵丨賱丕賵鬲賴. 爻毓丿鬲 亘賭 睾乇丕賲賷丕鬲 賲丕乇賷丕爻 賱兀賳賴丕 噩鬲 賮賷 賵賯鬲賴丕 鬲賲丕賲賸丕.
August 6, 2014
It鈥檚 quite shameful the way reality imposes no limits on itself.
The questions about life and death are quite contrasting. While we hardly ask about how someone is born, the news of someone鈥檚 death is almost always followed by the question of How. Apart from satiating our curiosity and mellow down the shock of the news, there is a sense of relief we try to find in the answers. And to be honest, such news is not always unpleasant especially when the death is caused due to some natural causes; in unnatural or unforeseen circumstances however, the string of questions extends to when, where, and most importantly, Why, but that too remains valid for a short time and exists at a superficial level because when all said and done, everything merges into nothingness. The world in which we are living today, there is no dearth of such unnatural deaths and every day we get to know of several contemptible crimes, some of which are self-evident in their atrocity and some are veiled under the political nature of events which try to establish an unconvincing justification of taking several innocent lives. The convenience of language comes handy in allocating various terms to such events but at the end of the day and deep in our hearts we know what it should be called: 'Yes, a murder, nothing more'.
Javier Mar铆as latest novel, The Infatuations (Los enamoramientos) in a brilliant translation by Margaret Jull Costa, is a philosophical enquiry into human nature, which when exposed to dark alleys of death and its companions, makes way into myriad speculations and unexpected conclusions. Maria, our protagonist, is in a habit of starting her day by having breakfast at a particular caf茅 in Madrid, where she silently observes a loving couple, Luisa and Miguel, whom she secretly attributes as 鈥楾he Perfect Couple鈥�. She feels happy on seeing them happy, inwardly smiles when they laugh at some random jokes and admire their immaculate sense of dressing style and their dignified demeanor. Watching them becomes a part of her daily routine and provides the necessary stimulant to deal with her otherwise mundane and at times frustrating day at work with a publishing house. Even without the exchange of a single word she feels a deep connection with them, a connection to which it won鈥檛 be wrong to give the name of 'The Infatuation'.
How fragile they are, these connections with people one knows only by sight.
Maria experiences the fragility of her abstract relationship with the couple when her routine was interrupted by their absence for several days. Miguel is brutally murdered and Luisa becomes an 鈥榠nconsolable widow鈥�. Should Maria go forward and offer some comforting words to the lady she was always in the habit of seeing besides a handsome man or better she let go of her curiosity surrounding the tragedy and move on with her life thus bringing an end to the Happy beginning to her mornings? Curiosity killed the cat but thankfully Maria is a 鈥楶rudent Young Woman鈥�, the name given to her by the couple.
She does meet Luisa which makes way for some new characters and unfolds several layers concerning Miguel鈥檚 death which renders the whole situation a murder mystery. But this is not your everyday whodunit novel. This book screams of Marias style from every angle which, besides from great writing, offers huge chunks of internal monologues, philosophical discourses and microscopic analysis of different situations which further gives us enough material to contemplate, both while reading the book and after the last page is turned over. At times it reads like as if Marias pens down all the thoughts which occur in his mind relating to a quote he liked in a book or a news item he read in a national daily or observations he made while noticing a couple walking down a street or having a quiet dinner at some restaurant and with the rough draft in his hands, he inserts few characters and a subtle plotline in congruence to his thoughts and presents us with a unique literary achievement.
Maria, through her meeting with Luisa, meets Javier and falls in love with him or is it just an infatuation? Could be anything but it does make Luisa vulnerable since she becomes acquainted to some incomplete facts by way of sheer chance and holds the power in molding those facts into whatever concrete evidence she deems fit giving the situation she finds herself in and at the same time is exposed to life threatening conditions. It in turn tells us that one can easily find oneself carefully dissecting the delicate nature of truth in the face of uncertainty and how in the wake of making choice between making or breaking a life, (especially of those we have become infatuated with, whether in a trivial or substantial way) the questions of morality and ethics, takes a backseat.
..the most transient and trivial of infatuations lack any real cause, and that鈥檚 even truer of feelings that go far deeper, infinitely deeper than that.
Throughout the novel, we mostly find ourselves reading the numerous ruminations by Maria on subjects like love, death, justice, chance, destiny, psychology of guilt, the implications of thoughtful and thoughtless actions, truth, et al. Sounds boring? Yes, but there is something about Mar铆as prose which gradually draws the reader in, captures the attention and the only way out in a satisfactory manner is to read till the end. As one character points out:
Again he had been tempted into speechifying, and was forcing himself to resist. He was trying to get to the point, and my feeling was that, if he was still taking his time, he was not doing so unwillingly and unwittingly, but had an end in mind, perhaps he was trying to draw me in and gradually accustom me to the facts.
The Infatuations, notwithstanding Mar铆as merit as a writer, does have its share of flaws, most apparent of which is its narration from the perspective of female, which as I came to know, was a first for Mar铆as. It鈥檚 not being carried out with as much finesse as Mar铆as is capable of and for most of the part he succumbs to the age old generalizations pertaining to women behavior, specifically in terms of dealing with their male counterparts. Although most of the time the gender specificity of the narration is not that prominent but when it comes under the spot light, the weak points are easily discernible. Apart from that, this book runs the risk of pushing the readers patience to its extreme since the most interesting part comes close to around 200 pages, so had this been my first Mar铆as book, I鈥檇 be a bit underwhelmed but it was not and met most of my expectations ensued after reading his other book, . Therefore, for Mar铆as neophytes, it鈥檚 advisable to get acquainted with his style first but with some other book in order to understand the true essence of 鈥楾he Infatuations鈥� in a more appreciative manner.
The emotional turmoil described in this book through various characters provides a profound and intellectual study of human fallibility, which when communicated through the impeccable observational skills of Mar铆as that dwells nothing but on the brutal honesty, promises an inimitable reading experience. Four stars for this one. I really liked it.
May 10, 2015
They sat here before. The Chambers. Awash in the overheated humidity, pomade, the dense artificial freshening scent. Moments before, an objection had been raised out there.
So, Sam, what...what can you give me?"
Gruesome over here objected to my objection.
You know he's right Ned. You can't object to an objection. If I were to allow that then one of you would object to that and the objections would go on until we could no more see them. I'm still not sure what your case is Sam. He rolled out his arms beneath the flowing robe, caring for the creases. He was on his, "Throne," behind the polished mahogany desk his chambers brightly lit.
Your Honor...Jimmy...Jim.
Your Honor will do.
My clients has...let's simplify it...incurred an injury.
Define the injury Sam better than you tried out there.
O.K. My client is a slow reader, call it cautious...
He looks like a slow reader.
Ned that's enough out of you. Act like a Prosecuting Attorney.
I am.
Act like a defense Attorney then. He looked at the clock on the desk. It could not be heard. No tick. Only numbers. No evidence time passed or moved. Less than thirty minutes gentleman before court is back in session and I expect we will come to a compromise before then. Sam, your defense, if we are going to call it such, is based on your client having suffered through the first one hundred and eighty pages of this novel. First Sam, the judge folded his hands and cast his famous thin grin, what kind of suffering? Was he flayed? Bodily scars to show the assault? It is a book Sammy. He could have put it down...
...Any time, Ned broke in. That is my point. He had the free will to stop reading the book at each moment. No one forced him. And by the way the tie doesn't go with the suit.
What does that have to do with anything?
He's wearing the tie, Jimmy...Your Honor, to have the jury see him as a shnook. He likes looking like a shnook so if he says something that makes sense it will sound smarter. Or make him look like he has a date after court he doesn't want to show for. Juries love this kind of stuff.
You think I'm wearing this tie because... I think you're bringing it up because you want to divert his Honor.
Boy. Boys. Children. Leave all this for when we get out there. Now, let's define the case each of you want to make and come up with a compromise. Shit, it's hot in here.
Take off the robe.
Go to hell. Sammy.
My client went through an emotional pain of three days, 180 pages, of reading something repetitive, suffocating and banal. He did not close it because he was led-on in a purposive manner.
Of course he was led. What the hell do you think these writers do. They plant things like terrorists. You can't even see them while you read. They lead you off in one direction then you find yourself somewhere else. Your honor this isn't a case. His client, this reviewer guy just doesn't have the chops.
Sam?
O.K. my client didn't start reading until later in life. But he has read a lot recently and has read many of this author's books. And, might I say loved them. And, for good reason. Now, I hate to agree with Ned-I wore this tie because I woke late and dressed in the dark-but you see the author led him on to continue reading this incredibly dull stuff by the richness of his previous novels, All Souls, TITBTOM...
TITBTOM, Sam?
Tomorrow In The Battle Think On Me.
You see this is what he does, your Honor. He's shleps out in his mammy-pamsy suit and pathetic tie, he slightly musses up his hair, then the godawful dimple when he reluctantly smiles making him look like a kid who just needs this one break. And me, I look like the old cagey guy. Please tell him he can't use TITBTOM out there and then blush.
Get. To. The. Point.
Anyone having read the defendant's previous work would feel the compulsion to read on. The woman, the narrator, speculated about everything including her own speculations. Her thoughts never stopped or arrived anywhere...
Kind of like this conversation.
Very good your Honor. The story didn't go anywhere, never moved off the starting block. I hold out that my client as an average typical reader may have missed some salient points that in all honesty were too well hidden.
You mean Mr. Marias, Ned smiled, did too good of a job.
Took it too far. Besides he began with a fascinating hook where the narrator eats alone every morning in this diner watching this couple being happy, the perfect couple. There was a promise here your Honor that was broken for the next one hundred and eighty pages.
Damnit. What about Sam...
Ned sit down. We're just defining the cases. Take it easy.
Yes your Honor but what about this guy's attempt to be inside of a woman?
I must have missed that part Ned, Sam blushed What page did you say that was on?
The judge rose, played futilely with the thermostat then opened up a drawer with a key in a wood filing case. He brought the three quarter full bottle of aged scotch malt and three semi-clean glasses to the table and poured careful. They each raised their glasses and silently toasted one another.
You know what I mean. This is good scotch your Honor. Sammy boy purposively wants to embarrass himself even here as a strategy. We all know that I meant this writer is taking the chance to place himself inside of a woman's mind, her imagination. No credit for the courage of this. How hard it might be. Let's face it we guys are born into this world are taught that all kinds of things are coming to us. Power in large and small events. We expect it. Walk around with the expectation. Imagine what is like for a woman? Just for a moment? A woman alone? What she is handed before she can even speak in complete sentences is that she is not as good, not as capable, cannot fully depend on herself so must be with others. She, my friends, grows up in,
let's be honest, what is still a man's world, with a certain level of fear, vulnerability and in danger. She is taught and shown by our culture, by Sammy's jokes, that she is not set out on a level playing field. Ned held his hands up, O.K. so he didn't do a perfect job with this. I admit it. Who has? There was that yellow raft boat and somebodies choice.
Sophie's Choice.
Thanks Your Honor. I didn't know you read?
I...don't...not usually. From another case... He refilled the glasses in a ritual cadence. Arching their eyebrows they toasted again.
You have to, Ned went on, give the man credit for taking the chance. For trying. Do you realize that just the effort can have a great effect. One man reader to another, then another. If any of us, if I could through the effort, see the world through a woman's eyes, feel what its like being in this still-man's world, that has done the world a service. And Sam, Sammy, this is part of the book. Over and over again he shows this networking. How everything said and done effects and changes others forever, it all ripples out. It's like that painting. What the hell is that, he snapped his fingers but there was no sound. The judge and Sam tried not to look at the gnarling fingers. It's by that Jackson... guy. A bunch of stupid dots when you see it up close, if you want to even call them dots. Big deal right? You leave, then stop when you're at a distance and they are somehow all connected, into a whole. It is beautiful.
You might want to pour him some more, Sam jerked his head, your Honor.
The judge filled the cup, Now slow down this stuff is expensive.
Expensive. You've had it open for months now.
You don't expect the good stuff do you? You're trying to throw me off aren't you. Judges know how its done.
What, Ned lifted his glass, would a woman feel right now sitting here? Could she feel comfortable like we do, to be herself?
Speak for yourself. When Jimmy takes off the robe I'll feel a lot better. So will he. It must be eighty degrees in here. Okay Ned, he made an effort. I agree. Just not a good enough one. Sam tapped the table with the point of his index finger, it doesn't matter in the end my guy isn't going to create any ripples. He has no networkings to connect, no dots.
Is he any good?
No. I mean he's okay. Sam shrugged. He tries to be cutesy sometimes. Like this review. He has us speculating and being as banal as I'm complaining about. He's writing down everything we say. That kind of thing.
If this is his review I guess Marias doesn't have much to worry about.
No it's an on-line thing. A great site but he's one out of a few million. Someone here or there gives him a pat on the back. I don't think he's ever gotten twenty of them The guy doesn't even show a picture of himself so no one firebombs his house or sues him. Yeah, Sam laughs. The judge looks at the digital numbers lapse of time, its passing un-shown. Believe me whether he gives this a one star rating or a five no one cares. It's not going to get in the papers or stop anyone from reading it. It's going to be a three or four anyway.
I've never been inside of a review before. Are we allowed to break and use the bathroom?
Gentlemen, the judge tapped at his wrist where a watch should have been, the idea of this recess, if I may remind you, was to let me know what case each of you are establishing then see what compromise we want to reach. He picked a pen from a holder and pointed its blunt end at Sam. Your point is that your client, this Mr. S., suffered some sort of emotional injury because for the first what, one hundred and eighty pages, he was misled by the author's past reputation and his, the readers, expectations were thwarted over a lengthy period of time...
I would your honor...
Do you need more scotch?
Sam nodded his head. My client was significantly disappointed. As the prosecuting attorney pointed out Marias himself showed in the narrative how one person being effected by an event will then network out to others, effect others who will then effect more. This disappointment will not only injure my client, stay with him forever but will spread. It cannot be seen...
It can, can't it? On his face? Movements? How he treats other people?
Are you taking his side your honor. Teaming up? You owe him?
Me? The judge held his hands up, speak to the shmuck writing our review.
Then I object. It is all a conflict of interest.
There you go with your objections again. That's how we got here in the first place. Of course it's a conflict of interest. That's the problem about being in a review. He's the guy tapping on a keyboard. Can't you see the words coming out of my mouth? We just have to do the best we can. Be a man about it.
You see...
See what? Never mind.
So, Sam interrupted, glancing at the ceiling, the corners first, the writing was flat, boring, didn't meet the expectations from previous works, and failed to fulfill the setup of the scene and narrator's character from the beginning. Hopes dashed. The reader, my client, being in my estimation unfairly prosecuted, he glanced back up at the ceiling corner, is left in danger of fearing being disappointed in trying any novel now, in life. And yes I respect his attempt to place us males inside the mind of a woman, to see the world through her eyes. Every man should want to do this as difficult and resistive as it may be. A requirement to be licensed as a human being. However, the author held out a gold ring. We finally got there. And we really did. He put the narrator in a physically and emotionally tense and frightening situation. Around page one eighty the writing became immediate. The narrator became palpably vulnerable. Breathtaking. My client could now look back at the narrator's endless discourse and speculation, the attempts to set up all the possibilities in a mystery novel that wasn't happening, the banality and dreary internal banter... your Honor, you're sweating by the way...and he was able to see the inner experience of this woman's isolation, fear and vulnerability. It could just as effectively have been done, according to my client, within approximately one-third the number of pages. Easy for my client to say. But here we are. We have reached the great writing, the suspense of the story unfolding, experiencing the narrator's experiences first-hand. It is a revelation. Almost worth the drudgery through the one hundred and eighty pages. Then, further along it slips back into its former style to the point where the unfolding was no longer pertinent to my client. He was baited. Exhausted. All the interiority. Marias out-Mariased himself. Simple as that then all he was left with was true, beautific language but otherwise scarred and empty handed. Unfair, and may I say unnecessary.
Listen Jimmy...I mean your Honor...Sam over here can say whatever he wants but he ain't too well read...
Is that so?
Yes your honor. He missed the entire point if I got it right. You know how some people read and they say they see more than what's before them. Right? We deal in a different world. We deal in the real world, objects, people witnessing concrete actions. I spoke to a couple of professors at our college up here. Man, this guy writing this thing doesn't even trust I'm smart enough to come up with this on my own. I've got to get it from some Professors.
He's right Ned.
Oh yeah. Let's see what he does to you.
Holding up his partially robed arm once more, looking at the static numbered clock, the judge said, we've got seven minutes gentlemen before recess is over.
The book by the end that my esteemed colleague and his beleaguered client missed is that...give me a second and let me check my notes...is a wonderfully successful text about fiction...storytelling itself. Everything is a fictitious story putting everything said and done in doubt. You know, that long explanation of Diaz Valera's to Maria? Who knows what to believe of that. As the writer so skillfully shows and, get it Sam, you too, Diaz Valera has all the power telling it. It isn't so simple. He'll tell what he remembers, how he remembers it, what is left in and out, how it benefits him in remembering himself-which may be custom manufactured by shards of these memories. It is his, the storyteller's reality. Then Maria will do with it what she needs to do and that will be her reality which may be passed on to others. Remember all of this will effect and network others. But, what he is saying and the book is about is that everything is in doubt. Everything in the book, everything we have said here is in doubt. We make believe that it isn't.
If you don't mind, and let me say this slowly so we all understand, we will make believe for the next couple of minutes that we have no doubts. Everything before us is real, concrete and identifiable. The case you are going to present Ned is; the author was doing his job from the beginning and the defendant's complaints shows he was doing his job only too well, the courageous attempt at having the reader experience a woman's isolation, fear, vulnerability, and that the essence of the book, the very way the book was written and would be read is that everything is a story, all stories are manufactured by the teller, and let's see, according to their needs, and thus everything, including what the reader just read or is reading is in doubt. Did I get that all Ned? Please feel free to nod your head yes.
Just one thing your Honor.
The judge rose, stoppered the bottle of scotch. Placing it back in the drawer of the wood file cabinet, he locked it. Returning, he sat pleating his robe in place, then stretching his arms. Thirty seconds Ned.
He read Virginia Woolf's, The Waves, before this. One of the professor's says here in my notes...that it is a book that when read will reconfigure the person in their relationship with their world and with themselves. There is no way that he could then read, The Infatuations, and remain unchanged and be able to objectify the experience of this text.
Was that last part yours Ned?
Its in my notes...
He didn't write it your honor.
Uh. It doesn't make any difference. And your's Sam is that the book was unreadable at the beginning. Then the writer baited you with false hope and dropped you again. Although you have no physical injury you are claiming an emotional injury of significant disappointment. You claim that all aside , your clients review will be read by a small group of on-line readers who are kind, intelligent, and generally overlook any gaffes or overstatements your client generally makes. There will be no ripple effect in the...world whether he gives this book a rating of...let's see...three or four stars.
Yes, your Honor.
This will be our compromise that we have settled on, that will be agreed upon and announced out there by yours truly. You Ned, Mr. Prosecuting Attorney, will drop all charges if the defendant reviews this book with a three and a half star rating. You okay with that Sam?
Um. I believe there is no three and a half stars. I've seen this sight. No halves. Decimals and fractions are out. It is precisely either a three or four. I propose a three.
Your Honor...
Yes...Ned. Is there something more you wan to say?
Anything below a four and the defendant will have to cop to at least a lesser degree of defamation of character.
Ned...next time I'll give you the good scotch?
No sir.
Sir?
Sir.
Then Sam?
Why not. My guy probably missed some things anyway. A four it is.
Then gentlemen, I am glad to announce we are done, with ten seconds to spare,
Your honor...?
Yes...Ned?
Can we just get up and leave? I mean, will the guy writing the review let us.
Well Ned, let's stand up, open the door and see.
So, Sam, what...what can you give me?"
Gruesome over here objected to my objection.
You know he's right Ned. You can't object to an objection. If I were to allow that then one of you would object to that and the objections would go on until we could no more see them. I'm still not sure what your case is Sam. He rolled out his arms beneath the flowing robe, caring for the creases. He was on his, "Throne," behind the polished mahogany desk his chambers brightly lit.
Your Honor...Jimmy...Jim.
Your Honor will do.
My clients has...let's simplify it...incurred an injury.
Define the injury Sam better than you tried out there.
O.K. My client is a slow reader, call it cautious...
He looks like a slow reader.
Ned that's enough out of you. Act like a Prosecuting Attorney.
I am.
Act like a defense Attorney then. He looked at the clock on the desk. It could not be heard. No tick. Only numbers. No evidence time passed or moved. Less than thirty minutes gentleman before court is back in session and I expect we will come to a compromise before then. Sam, your defense, if we are going to call it such, is based on your client having suffered through the first one hundred and eighty pages of this novel. First Sam, the judge folded his hands and cast his famous thin grin, what kind of suffering? Was he flayed? Bodily scars to show the assault? It is a book Sammy. He could have put it down...
...Any time, Ned broke in. That is my point. He had the free will to stop reading the book at each moment. No one forced him. And by the way the tie doesn't go with the suit.
What does that have to do with anything?
He's wearing the tie, Jimmy...Your Honor, to have the jury see him as a shnook. He likes looking like a shnook so if he says something that makes sense it will sound smarter. Or make him look like he has a date after court he doesn't want to show for. Juries love this kind of stuff.
You think I'm wearing this tie because... I think you're bringing it up because you want to divert his Honor.
Boy. Boys. Children. Leave all this for when we get out there. Now, let's define the case each of you want to make and come up with a compromise. Shit, it's hot in here.
Take off the robe.
Go to hell. Sammy.
My client went through an emotional pain of three days, 180 pages, of reading something repetitive, suffocating and banal. He did not close it because he was led-on in a purposive manner.
Of course he was led. What the hell do you think these writers do. They plant things like terrorists. You can't even see them while you read. They lead you off in one direction then you find yourself somewhere else. Your honor this isn't a case. His client, this reviewer guy just doesn't have the chops.
Sam?
O.K. my client didn't start reading until later in life. But he has read a lot recently and has read many of this author's books. And, might I say loved them. And, for good reason. Now, I hate to agree with Ned-I wore this tie because I woke late and dressed in the dark-but you see the author led him on to continue reading this incredibly dull stuff by the richness of his previous novels, All Souls, TITBTOM...
TITBTOM, Sam?
Tomorrow In The Battle Think On Me.
You see this is what he does, your Honor. He's shleps out in his mammy-pamsy suit and pathetic tie, he slightly musses up his hair, then the godawful dimple when he reluctantly smiles making him look like a kid who just needs this one break. And me, I look like the old cagey guy. Please tell him he can't use TITBTOM out there and then blush.
Get. To. The. Point.
Anyone having read the defendant's previous work would feel the compulsion to read on. The woman, the narrator, speculated about everything including her own speculations. Her thoughts never stopped or arrived anywhere...
Kind of like this conversation.
Very good your Honor. The story didn't go anywhere, never moved off the starting block. I hold out that my client as an average typical reader may have missed some salient points that in all honesty were too well hidden.
You mean Mr. Marias, Ned smiled, did too good of a job.
Took it too far. Besides he began with a fascinating hook where the narrator eats alone every morning in this diner watching this couple being happy, the perfect couple. There was a promise here your Honor that was broken for the next one hundred and eighty pages.
Damnit. What about Sam...
Ned sit down. We're just defining the cases. Take it easy.
Yes your Honor but what about this guy's attempt to be inside of a woman?
I must have missed that part Ned, Sam blushed What page did you say that was on?
The judge rose, played futilely with the thermostat then opened up a drawer with a key in a wood filing case. He brought the three quarter full bottle of aged scotch malt and three semi-clean glasses to the table and poured careful. They each raised their glasses and silently toasted one another.
You know what I mean. This is good scotch your Honor. Sammy boy purposively wants to embarrass himself even here as a strategy. We all know that I meant this writer is taking the chance to place himself inside of a woman's mind, her imagination. No credit for the courage of this. How hard it might be. Let's face it we guys are born into this world are taught that all kinds of things are coming to us. Power in large and small events. We expect it. Walk around with the expectation. Imagine what is like for a woman? Just for a moment? A woman alone? What she is handed before she can even speak in complete sentences is that she is not as good, not as capable, cannot fully depend on herself so must be with others. She, my friends, grows up in,
let's be honest, what is still a man's world, with a certain level of fear, vulnerability and in danger. She is taught and shown by our culture, by Sammy's jokes, that she is not set out on a level playing field. Ned held his hands up, O.K. so he didn't do a perfect job with this. I admit it. Who has? There was that yellow raft boat and somebodies choice.
Sophie's Choice.
Thanks Your Honor. I didn't know you read?
I...don't...not usually. From another case... He refilled the glasses in a ritual cadence. Arching their eyebrows they toasted again.
You have to, Ned went on, give the man credit for taking the chance. For trying. Do you realize that just the effort can have a great effect. One man reader to another, then another. If any of us, if I could through the effort, see the world through a woman's eyes, feel what its like being in this still-man's world, that has done the world a service. And Sam, Sammy, this is part of the book. Over and over again he shows this networking. How everything said and done effects and changes others forever, it all ripples out. It's like that painting. What the hell is that, he snapped his fingers but there was no sound. The judge and Sam tried not to look at the gnarling fingers. It's by that Jackson... guy. A bunch of stupid dots when you see it up close, if you want to even call them dots. Big deal right? You leave, then stop when you're at a distance and they are somehow all connected, into a whole. It is beautiful.
You might want to pour him some more, Sam jerked his head, your Honor.
The judge filled the cup, Now slow down this stuff is expensive.
Expensive. You've had it open for months now.
You don't expect the good stuff do you? You're trying to throw me off aren't you. Judges know how its done.
What, Ned lifted his glass, would a woman feel right now sitting here? Could she feel comfortable like we do, to be herself?
Speak for yourself. When Jimmy takes off the robe I'll feel a lot better. So will he. It must be eighty degrees in here. Okay Ned, he made an effort. I agree. Just not a good enough one. Sam tapped the table with the point of his index finger, it doesn't matter in the end my guy isn't going to create any ripples. He has no networkings to connect, no dots.
Is he any good?
No. I mean he's okay. Sam shrugged. He tries to be cutesy sometimes. Like this review. He has us speculating and being as banal as I'm complaining about. He's writing down everything we say. That kind of thing.
If this is his review I guess Marias doesn't have much to worry about.
No it's an on-line thing. A great site but he's one out of a few million. Someone here or there gives him a pat on the back. I don't think he's ever gotten twenty of them The guy doesn't even show a picture of himself so no one firebombs his house or sues him. Yeah, Sam laughs. The judge looks at the digital numbers lapse of time, its passing un-shown. Believe me whether he gives this a one star rating or a five no one cares. It's not going to get in the papers or stop anyone from reading it. It's going to be a three or four anyway.
I've never been inside of a review before. Are we allowed to break and use the bathroom?
Gentlemen, the judge tapped at his wrist where a watch should have been, the idea of this recess, if I may remind you, was to let me know what case each of you are establishing then see what compromise we want to reach. He picked a pen from a holder and pointed its blunt end at Sam. Your point is that your client, this Mr. S., suffered some sort of emotional injury because for the first what, one hundred and eighty pages, he was misled by the author's past reputation and his, the readers, expectations were thwarted over a lengthy period of time...
I would your honor...
Do you need more scotch?
Sam nodded his head. My client was significantly disappointed. As the prosecuting attorney pointed out Marias himself showed in the narrative how one person being effected by an event will then network out to others, effect others who will then effect more. This disappointment will not only injure my client, stay with him forever but will spread. It cannot be seen...
It can, can't it? On his face? Movements? How he treats other people?
Are you taking his side your honor. Teaming up? You owe him?
Me? The judge held his hands up, speak to the shmuck writing our review.
Then I object. It is all a conflict of interest.
There you go with your objections again. That's how we got here in the first place. Of course it's a conflict of interest. That's the problem about being in a review. He's the guy tapping on a keyboard. Can't you see the words coming out of my mouth? We just have to do the best we can. Be a man about it.
You see...
See what? Never mind.
So, Sam interrupted, glancing at the ceiling, the corners first, the writing was flat, boring, didn't meet the expectations from previous works, and failed to fulfill the setup of the scene and narrator's character from the beginning. Hopes dashed. The reader, my client, being in my estimation unfairly prosecuted, he glanced back up at the ceiling corner, is left in danger of fearing being disappointed in trying any novel now, in life. And yes I respect his attempt to place us males inside the mind of a woman, to see the world through her eyes. Every man should want to do this as difficult and resistive as it may be. A requirement to be licensed as a human being. However, the author held out a gold ring. We finally got there. And we really did. He put the narrator in a physically and emotionally tense and frightening situation. Around page one eighty the writing became immediate. The narrator became palpably vulnerable. Breathtaking. My client could now look back at the narrator's endless discourse and speculation, the attempts to set up all the possibilities in a mystery novel that wasn't happening, the banality and dreary internal banter... your Honor, you're sweating by the way...and he was able to see the inner experience of this woman's isolation, fear and vulnerability. It could just as effectively have been done, according to my client, within approximately one-third the number of pages. Easy for my client to say. But here we are. We have reached the great writing, the suspense of the story unfolding, experiencing the narrator's experiences first-hand. It is a revelation. Almost worth the drudgery through the one hundred and eighty pages. Then, further along it slips back into its former style to the point where the unfolding was no longer pertinent to my client. He was baited. Exhausted. All the interiority. Marias out-Mariased himself. Simple as that then all he was left with was true, beautific language but otherwise scarred and empty handed. Unfair, and may I say unnecessary.
Listen Jimmy...I mean your Honor...Sam over here can say whatever he wants but he ain't too well read...
Is that so?
Yes your honor. He missed the entire point if I got it right. You know how some people read and they say they see more than what's before them. Right? We deal in a different world. We deal in the real world, objects, people witnessing concrete actions. I spoke to a couple of professors at our college up here. Man, this guy writing this thing doesn't even trust I'm smart enough to come up with this on my own. I've got to get it from some Professors.
He's right Ned.
Oh yeah. Let's see what he does to you.
Holding up his partially robed arm once more, looking at the static numbered clock, the judge said, we've got seven minutes gentlemen before recess is over.
The book by the end that my esteemed colleague and his beleaguered client missed is that...give me a second and let me check my notes...is a wonderfully successful text about fiction...storytelling itself. Everything is a fictitious story putting everything said and done in doubt. You know, that long explanation of Diaz Valera's to Maria? Who knows what to believe of that. As the writer so skillfully shows and, get it Sam, you too, Diaz Valera has all the power telling it. It isn't so simple. He'll tell what he remembers, how he remembers it, what is left in and out, how it benefits him in remembering himself-which may be custom manufactured by shards of these memories. It is his, the storyteller's reality. Then Maria will do with it what she needs to do and that will be her reality which may be passed on to others. Remember all of this will effect and network others. But, what he is saying and the book is about is that everything is in doubt. Everything in the book, everything we have said here is in doubt. We make believe that it isn't.
If you don't mind, and let me say this slowly so we all understand, we will make believe for the next couple of minutes that we have no doubts. Everything before us is real, concrete and identifiable. The case you are going to present Ned is; the author was doing his job from the beginning and the defendant's complaints shows he was doing his job only too well, the courageous attempt at having the reader experience a woman's isolation, fear, vulnerability, and that the essence of the book, the very way the book was written and would be read is that everything is a story, all stories are manufactured by the teller, and let's see, according to their needs, and thus everything, including what the reader just read or is reading is in doubt. Did I get that all Ned? Please feel free to nod your head yes.
Just one thing your Honor.
The judge rose, stoppered the bottle of scotch. Placing it back in the drawer of the wood file cabinet, he locked it. Returning, he sat pleating his robe in place, then stretching his arms. Thirty seconds Ned.
He read Virginia Woolf's, The Waves, before this. One of the professor's says here in my notes...that it is a book that when read will reconfigure the person in their relationship with their world and with themselves. There is no way that he could then read, The Infatuations, and remain unchanged and be able to objectify the experience of this text.
Was that last part yours Ned?
Its in my notes...
He didn't write it your honor.
Uh. It doesn't make any difference. And your's Sam is that the book was unreadable at the beginning. Then the writer baited you with false hope and dropped you again. Although you have no physical injury you are claiming an emotional injury of significant disappointment. You claim that all aside , your clients review will be read by a small group of on-line readers who are kind, intelligent, and generally overlook any gaffes or overstatements your client generally makes. There will be no ripple effect in the...world whether he gives this book a rating of...let's see...three or four stars.
Yes, your Honor.
This will be our compromise that we have settled on, that will be agreed upon and announced out there by yours truly. You Ned, Mr. Prosecuting Attorney, will drop all charges if the defendant reviews this book with a three and a half star rating. You okay with that Sam?
Um. I believe there is no three and a half stars. I've seen this sight. No halves. Decimals and fractions are out. It is precisely either a three or four. I propose a three.
Your Honor...
Yes...Ned. Is there something more you wan to say?
Anything below a four and the defendant will have to cop to at least a lesser degree of defamation of character.
Ned...next time I'll give you the good scotch?
No sir.
Sir?
Sir.
Then Sam?
Why not. My guy probably missed some things anyway. A four it is.
Then gentlemen, I am glad to announce we are done, with ten seconds to spare,
Your honor...?
Yes...Ned?
Can we just get up and leave? I mean, will the guy writing the review let us.
Well Ned, let's stand up, open the door and see.
Read
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丕賱賳賵丕夭毓 丕賱賮乇丿賷丞 丕賱禺亘賷孬丞 乇睾賲 丕賳賴丕 賲亘毓孬乇丞 賲鬲賳丕孬乇丞 廿賱丕 丕賳賴丕 鬲賰丕丿 鬲鬲賮賯 噩賲賷毓賴丕 賮賷 丕鬲禺丕匕 丕賱丕噩乇丕亍丕鬲 匕丕鬲賴丕 賱亘賱賵睾 睾丕賷丕鬲賴丕...賰賲 賲賳 丕賱噩乇丕卅賲 賲禺賮賷丞 睾賷乇 賲毓賱賳丞 鬲賮賱鬲 賲賳 丕賱毓賯賵亘丞 ...鬲賯鬲乇賮 噩乇丕卅賲 亘卮毓丞 賱賷爻鬲 亘丕賱囟乇賵乇丞 丕賳 鬲賯鬲氐乇 毓賱賶 丕賱賯鬲賱 亘賱 賯丿 鬲賰賵賳 丕賱禺丿丕毓 賵丕賱禺賷丕賳丞 貙 賰賱 匕賱賰 亘胤賲兀賳賷賳丞 賲購賳賮乇丞 亘睾賷囟丞 賵賷鬲賳丕爻賶 氐丕丨亘賴丕 丕賳賴 賲賳 丕胤賱賯 氐賮丕乇丞 丕賱亘丿亍..
賴賱 丕禺亘乇鬲賰賲 兀賳 丕賱囟賲賷乇 丕賱丕賳爻丕賳賷 賱丕 賷賲賵鬲 亘賱 賷馗賱 賷賵禺夭 氐丕丨亘賴 丕賱匕賷 賷鬲噩丕賴賱賴 賲鬲毓賲丿丕賸...!!
賴賳丕 鬲賯賮 賲匕賴賵賱丕賸 丕賲丕賲 賯丿乇丞 丕賱賲乇亍 毓賱賶 鬲賯丿賷賲 賰賱 丕賱賲爻賵睾丕鬲 賱鬲亘乇賷乇 丕賮毓丕賱賴 丕賱丿賳賷卅丞...賵丕禺鬲賱丕賯 丕賱兀毓匕丕乇 丕賱賵丕賴賷丞 賮賷 爻亘賷賱 鬲丨賯賷賯 乇睾亘丕鬲賴 丨鬲賶 賵廿賳 賰丕賳 匕賱賰 賷爻鬲丿毓賷 賳夭毓 賰賱 賲丕 賷丨賵賱 丿賵賳 匕賱賰 賵丕夭丕丨鬲賴 毓賳 胤乇賷賯賴 ...
賴賳丕 噩乇賷賲丞 賯鬲賱 亘丿賲 亘丕乇丿 鬲鬲爻鬲乇 賵乇丕亍 丿丕賮毓 丕賱睾乇丕賲貙 賵賱賰賳 賮賷 丕賱丨賯賷賯丞 廿賳 丕賱賳賵丕夭毓 丕賱禺亘賷孬丞 鬲鬲賰乇乇 毓賱賶 賲丿賶 鬲丕乇賷禺 丕賱亘卮乇賷丞 貙 賮賲丕 賰丕賳 丕賱丿丕賮毓 爻賵賶 兀賳丕賳賷丞 胤丕睾賷丞 賱丕孬亘丕鬲 丕賱匕丕鬲 賵丕賳賴 賱丕 卮賷亍 賷購爻鬲毓氐賶 毓賱賷賴丕 賳賷賱賴 賵鬲賲賱賰賴...
賵丕禺賷乇丕賸 ..賴賱 丨賯丕賸 賳丨賳 丕賱兀丨賷丕亍 賲賳 賳賲賳丨 丕賱賲賵鬲賶 賯賵鬲賴賲 責
賵丕匕丕 賲丕 毓丕丿賵丕 貙 賴賱 爻賷噩丿賵賳 丕賲丕賰賳賴賲 卮丕睾乇丞 亘丕賳鬲馗丕乇賴賲 丕賲 鬲乇丕賴賲 賯丿 賷購卮賰賱賵賳 孬賯賱丕賸 毓賱賶 兀丨亘鬲賴賲 亘毓丿 鬲毓丕賮賷賴賲 賵亘毓丿 賲丕 丕丨鬲賱 丌禺乇賵賳 兀賲丕賰賳賴賲 責....
賴賱 賳丨賳 賯丕丿乇賵賳 毓賱賶 賳賮囟 丕賱賲賵鬲賶 毓賳丕 責
賲賳 賲賳丕 賱丕 賷爻鬲胤賷毓 丕賱鬲毓丕賮賷 賵賱賰賳 鬲亘賯賶 匕賰乇丕賴賲 賰賲丕 賱賵 賰丕賳鬲 鬲賲丕卅賲 氐睾賷乇丞 賲賳賯賵卮丞 毓賱賶 噩丿乇丕賳 丕賱賯賱亘 賱丕 爻亘賷賱 賱賲丨賵賴丕...貙 賯丿 鬲鬲囟丕亍賱 丕賱匕賰乇賶 賵鬲亘賴鬲 賵賱賰賳賴丕 賱丕 鬲禺鬲賮賷 兀賵 鬲鬲賱丕卮賶 丕亘丿丕賸...
賴匕丕 亘丕爻鬲孬賳丕亍 賮賯丿 丕賱賵丕賱丿賷賳 貙 鬲亘賯賶 兀賲丕賰賳賴賲 賱丕 賷賲賰賳 賱兀丨丿 丕亘丿丕賸 兀賳 賷卮睾賱賴丕 貙 鬲亘賯賶 丿賵賲丕賸 賱賰 賲賱丕匕丕賸 賱鬲賳匕賵賷 丕賱賶 賲丕 賰丕賳 賷賵賲丕賸 賵賱賲 賷毓購丿 賲賵噩賵丿丕賸......
November 9, 2019
禺丕亘蹖乇 賲丕乇蹖丕爻! 趩乇丕 賲賳 鬲丕 丨丕賱丕 讴卮賮鈥屫ж� 賳讴乇丿賴 亘賵丿賲!
亘丕蹖丿 丕夭 禺丕賳賲 賲賴爻丕 賲賱讴 賲乇夭亘丕賳 賲賲賳賵賳 亘丕卮賲 讴賴 亘丕 鬲乇噩賲賴鈥屰� 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 賲賳 乇賵 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕蹖 賲丕乇蹖丕爻 賵 卮蹖賮鬲诏蹖鈥屬囏� 亘乇丿貙 蹖讴 丿賳蹖丕蹖賽 毓噩蹖亘賽 噩匕丕亘!
蹖讴 爻鬲丕乇賴 乇賵 讴賲 讴乇丿賲 趩賵賳 亘毓囟蹖 噩丕賴丕 鬲賵囟蹖丨丕鬲賽 丕囟丕賮賴鈥屫й� 賲蹖鈥屫ж� 讴賴 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 乇賵 诏蹖噩 賲蹖讴乇丿 貙 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲 賲卮讴賱 丕夭 賲賳賴 讴賴 丌丿賲 鬲賵囟蹖丨鈥屬矩佰屫臂� 賳蹖爻鬲賲馃榿.
丕賲丕 丿乇 丨丕賱鬲 讴賱蹖 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬矩必ж槽屸€屬囏� 禺蹖賱蹖 禺賵亘 亘賵丿貙 丕賳诏丕乇 禺丕亘蹖乇 賲丕乇蹖丕爻 丿賯蹖賯賳 亘乇丕蹖 丕蹖賳 禺賱賯 卮丿賴 讴賴 亘丕 讴賲鬲乇蹖賳 讴賱賲丕鬲貙 卮禺氐蹖鬲賴丕 賵 賲賵賯毓蹖鬲鈥屬囏� 乇賵 亘賴 亘賴鬲乇蹖賳 卮讴賱 鬲卮乇蹖丨 讴賳賴貙 丨鬲蹖 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬囏й屰� 讴賴 丨囟賵乇 讴賲乇賳诏蹖 鬲賵蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 丿丕卮鬲賳丿. 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬囏� 爻蹖丕賴 賵 爻賮蹖丿 賳亘賵丿賳丿 賵 賲賳 亘賴 乇丕丨鬲蹖 鬲賵賳爻鬲賲 亘丕 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬囏й� 丕氐賱蹖 賴賲匕丕鬲鈥屬举嗀ж臂� 讴賳賲.
丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘貙 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賽 毓卮賯 賵 丿賱亘爻鬲诏蹖 賵 賵丕亘爻鬲诏蹖 賵 噩賳丕蹖丕鬲 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 丿乇 丨賯 賴賲丿蹖诏賴 亘賵丿 丕賲丕 賳賴 丌賳 毓卮賯鈥屬囏й� 禺丕賲賽 讴賵丿讴丕賳賴 賵 賳賴 丌賳 噩賳丕蹖鬲鈥屬囏й屰� 讴賴 丕賱夭丕賲賳 亘丕 禺賵賳乇蹖夭蹖 賵 丿乇丿 馗丕賴乇蹖 賴賲乇丕賴 賴爻鬲賳 賵 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲蹖卮賴 丿乇 爻讴賵鬲 亘丕賯蹖 賲蹖鈥屬呝堎嗁�.
丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 乇賵 亘丕 亘購睾囟蹖 亘賴 倬賴賳丕蹖 氐賵乇鬲賲 賵 毓賲賯賽 賯賱亘賲 鬲賲賵賲 讴乇丿賲 賵 丿乇 丌禺乇 讴鬲丕亘 賳賵卮鬲賲:
" 卮丕蹖丿 丕诏乇 賲胤賲卅賳 亘賵丿賲 亘毓丿 丕夭 賲乇诏 丿賳蹖丕蹖蹖 賵噩賵丿 賳丿丕乇丿貙 亘丕 丕卮鬲蹖丕賯賽 亘蹖卮鬲乇蹖 亘賴 賲購乇丿賳 賮讴乇 賲蹖讴乇丿賲. 禺爻鬲賴鈥屫� 丕夭 丌賳賲 讴賴 亘禺賵丕賴賲 丿賵亘丕乇賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 讴賳賲"
亘丕蹖丿 丕夭 禺丕賳賲 賲賴爻丕 賲賱讴 賲乇夭亘丕賳 賲賲賳賵賳 亘丕卮賲 讴賴 亘丕 鬲乇噩賲賴鈥屰� 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 賲賳 乇賵 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕蹖 賲丕乇蹖丕爻 賵 卮蹖賮鬲诏蹖鈥屬囏� 亘乇丿貙 蹖讴 丿賳蹖丕蹖賽 毓噩蹖亘賽 噩匕丕亘!
蹖讴 爻鬲丕乇賴 乇賵 讴賲 讴乇丿賲 趩賵賳 亘毓囟蹖 噩丕賴丕 鬲賵囟蹖丨丕鬲賽 丕囟丕賮賴鈥屫й� 賲蹖鈥屫ж� 讴賴 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 乇賵 诏蹖噩 賲蹖讴乇丿 貙 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲 賲卮讴賱 丕夭 賲賳賴 讴賴 丌丿賲 鬲賵囟蹖丨鈥屬矩佰屫臂� 賳蹖爻鬲賲馃榿.
丕賲丕 丿乇 丨丕賱鬲 讴賱蹖 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬矩必ж槽屸€屬囏� 禺蹖賱蹖 禺賵亘 亘賵丿貙 丕賳诏丕乇 禺丕亘蹖乇 賲丕乇蹖丕爻 丿賯蹖賯賳 亘乇丕蹖 丕蹖賳 禺賱賯 卮丿賴 讴賴 亘丕 讴賲鬲乇蹖賳 讴賱賲丕鬲貙 卮禺氐蹖鬲賴丕 賵 賲賵賯毓蹖鬲鈥屬囏� 乇賵 亘賴 亘賴鬲乇蹖賳 卮讴賱 鬲卮乇蹖丨 讴賳賴貙 丨鬲蹖 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬囏й屰� 讴賴 丨囟賵乇 讴賲乇賳诏蹖 鬲賵蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 丿丕卮鬲賳丿. 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬囏� 爻蹖丕賴 賵 爻賮蹖丿 賳亘賵丿賳丿 賵 賲賳 亘賴 乇丕丨鬲蹖 鬲賵賳爻鬲賲 亘丕 卮禺氐蹖鬲鈥屬囏й� 丕氐賱蹖 賴賲匕丕鬲鈥屬举嗀ж臂� 讴賳賲.
丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘貙 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賽 毓卮賯 賵 丿賱亘爻鬲诏蹖 賵 賵丕亘爻鬲诏蹖 賵 噩賳丕蹖丕鬲 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 丿乇 丨賯 賴賲丿蹖诏賴 亘賵丿 丕賲丕 賳賴 丌賳 毓卮賯鈥屬囏й� 禺丕賲賽 讴賵丿讴丕賳賴 賵 賳賴 丌賳 噩賳丕蹖鬲鈥屬囏й屰� 讴賴 丕賱夭丕賲賳 亘丕 禺賵賳乇蹖夭蹖 賵 丿乇丿 馗丕賴乇蹖 賴賲乇丕賴 賴爻鬲賳 賵 卮丕蹖丿 賴賲蹖卮賴 丿乇 爻讴賵鬲 亘丕賯蹖 賲蹖鈥屬呝堎嗁�.
丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 乇賵 亘丕 亘購睾囟蹖 亘賴 倬賴賳丕蹖 氐賵乇鬲賲 賵 毓賲賯賽 賯賱亘賲 鬲賲賵賲 讴乇丿賲 賵 丿乇 丌禺乇 讴鬲丕亘 賳賵卮鬲賲:
" 卮丕蹖丿 丕诏乇 賲胤賲卅賳 亘賵丿賲 亘毓丿 丕夭 賲乇诏 丿賳蹖丕蹖蹖 賵噩賵丿 賳丿丕乇丿貙 亘丕 丕卮鬲蹖丕賯賽 亘蹖卮鬲乇蹖 亘賴 賲購乇丿賳 賮讴乇 賲蹖讴乇丿賲. 禺爻鬲賴鈥屫� 丕夭 丌賳賲 讴賴 亘禺賵丕賴賲 丿賵亘丕乇賴 夭賳丿诏蹖 讴賳賲"
June 16, 2022
鬲丕讴賳賵賳 乇賲丕賳蹖 讴賴 丿乇 丌賳 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴 鬲丕 丕蹖賳 丨丿 乇賵丿賴鈥屫必ж槽� 讴乇丿賴 亘丕卮丿 賳丿蹖丿賴鈥屫з�. 賴賲 乇丕賵蹖 賵 賴賲 讴丕乇丕讴鬲乇賴丕蹖 讴鬲丕亘 亘賴鈥屫簇� 倬乇诏賵 賵 乇賵丿賴鈥屫必ж� 賴爻鬲賳丿. 亘乇丕蹖 禺賵丕賳丿賳 丕蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 亘丕蹖丿 亘爻蹖丕乇 丨賵氐賱賴 賵 氐亘乇 丿丕卮鬲賴 亘丕卮蹖丿.
亘賴 賯賵賱 禺賵丿 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 芦丿乇 亘丨孬 賵 鬲賮爻蹖乇 賵 丕賳丨乇丕賮 丕夭 賲賵囟賵毓貙 丕爻鬲毓丿丕丿 丌卮讴丕乇蹖 丿丕卮鬲. 賲鬲賵噩賴 卮丿賴鈥屫з� 丕蹖賳 丕爻鬲毓丿丕丿 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖 丕夭 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳蹖 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丿乇 丿賮鬲乇 丕賳鬲卮丕乇丕鬲 亘丕 丌賳鈥屬囏� 丌卮賳丕 卮丿賴鈥屫з�. 丕賳诏丕乇 爻蹖丕賴 讴乇丿賳 氐賮丨丕鬲 賲鬲毓丿丿 亘丕 丕賮讴丕乇 賵 丿丕爻鬲丕賳鈥屬囏� 讴賴 噩夭 丿乇 亘乇禺蹖 賲賵丕乇丿貙 倬賵趩貙 禺賵丿賳賲丕蹖丕賳賴貙 賳賮乇鬲鈥屫з嗂屫� 蹖丕 丕爻賮鈥屫ㄘж� 賴爻鬲賳丿 亘乇丕蹖卮丕賳 讴丕賮蹖 賳蹖爻鬲.禄 氐賮丨賴 郾鄢鄞 讴鬲丕亘
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亘毓囟蹖鈥屬囏� 丨鬲蹖 亘蹖 賲賳馗賵乇 賲丕 乇丕 賲蹖鈥屫嗀з嗁嗀�. 賲賴賲鈥屫臂屬� 丿賱蹖賱卮 丌賳 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丨囟賵乇 賱匕鬲鈥屫ㄘ篡� 丿丕乇賳丿. 亘賳丕亘乇丕蹖賳貙 亘賴鈥屫池ж� 丕夭 丿蹖丿賳卮丕賳 賵 亘賵丿賳 丿乇 讴賳丕乇卮丕賳 亘賴 賵噩丿 賲蹖鈥屫③屰屬�. 讴丕賮蹖 丕爻鬲 爻乇丕倬丕 诏賵卮 卮賵蹖賲. 丨鬲蹖 丕诏乇 丨乇賮 噩丕賱亘蹖 賳夭賳賳丿 蹖丕 趩乇賳丿 亘诏賵蹖賳丿 亘丕夭賴賲 亘賴 賳馗乇賲丕賳 噩丕賱亘 丕爻鬲. 氐賮丨賴 郾鄣 讴鬲丕亘
毓噩蹖亘 丕爻鬲 讴賴 毓丕丿鬲鈥屬囏й� 賲丕 丕蹖賳鈥屬傌� 丿乇 賲賯丕亘賱 鬲睾蹖蹖乇 賲賯丕賵賲鬲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁嗀�. 丨鬲蹖 賵賯鬲蹖 丌賳 鬲睾蹖蹖乇丕鬲 亘乇丕蹖 亘賴鬲乇 卮丿賳 亘丕卮賳丿. 氐賮丨賴 鄄鄣 讴鬲丕亘
賲丕 亘丕 賴夭丕乇丕賳 賲毓賲丕蹖 丨賱 賳卮丿賴鈥屫й� 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃屬� 讴賴 氐亘丨貙 丿賴 丿賯蹖賯賴 匕賴賳賲丕賳 乇丕 丕卮睾丕賱 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 賵 亘毓丿 賮乇丕賲賵卮 賲丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 亘蹖 乇毓卮賴 丕賳丿賵賴蹖 亘乇 噩丕賳貙 亘蹖鈥屬囒屭� 賳卮丕賳賴鈥屫й�. 氐賮丨賴鈥屫й� 鄞郾 讴鬲丕亘
诏丕賴 丕鬲賮丕賯丕鬲蹖 賲蹖鈥屫з佖� 讴賴 賳賲蹖鈥屫促� 賴蹖趩讴爻 乇賵 亘賴鈥屫ж坟必� 賲賯氐乇 丿賵賳爻鬲. 蹖丕 趩蹖夭蹖 亘賴 丕爻賲 亘丿卮丕賳爻蹖 賵噩賵丿 丿丕乇賴 蹖丕 诏丕賴蹖 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 丕夭 賲爻蹖乇 卮賵賳 禺丕乇噩 賲蹖卮賳貙 乇丕賴卮賵賳 乇賵 诏賲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 賵 亘乇丕蹖 禺賵丿卮賵賳 亘丿亘禺鬲蹖 賵 丕丿亘丕乇 亘賴 亘丕乇 賲蹖丕乇賳. 氐賮丨賴 鄱鄞 讴鬲丕亘
丿乇 賴賲賵賳 夭賲丕賳 賵 鬲賵蹖 丕蹖賳 噩賴丕賳 賳丕賲胤賲卅賳 鬲賳賴丕 賳賲蹖鈥屬呝堎嗀屬呚� 噩賴丕賳蹖 讴賴 鬲賵蹖 丕賵賳 賴乇 趩蹖夭 丌卮賳丕蹖蹖 丕夭賲賵賳 爻賱亘 賲蹖鈥屫促�. 丕诏賴 丕蹖賳鈥屫� 賳亘丕卮蹖賲 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭蹖 乇賵 賳賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 丕夭賲賵賳 亘诏蹖乇賳. 丕诏賴 禺賵丿賲賵賳 賲乇丿賴 亘丕卮蹖賲 丿蹖诏賴 趩蹖夭蹖 亘乇丕賲賵賳 賳賲蹖鈥屬呟屫辟�. 氐賮丨賴 鄹酃 讴鬲丕亘
丕蹖賳鈥屭┵� 趩賴 丕鬲賮丕賯蹖 丕賮鬲丕丿 丕氐賱丕 賲賴賲 賳蹖爻鬲. 丕蹖賳 蹖讴 乇賲丕賳賴 賵 賲賵賯毓蹖 讴賴 鬲賲賵賲 賲蹖鈥屫促� 丕鬲賮丕賯丕鬲 賴賲 丕賴賲蹖鬲卮賵賳 乇賵 丕夭 丿爻鬲 賲蹖鈥屫� 賵 乇丕丨鬲 賮乇丕賲賵卮 賲蹖卮賳. 賲賴賲 丕賲讴丕賳鈥屬囏� 賵 丕蹖丿賴鈥屬囏й屰屬� 讴賴 倬蹖乇賳诏 禺蹖丕賱蹖 乇賲丕賳 亘丕 賲丕 亘賴 丕卮鬲乇丕讴 賲蹖鈥屫柏ж辟� 賵 丕賵賳 乇賵 亘賴 賲丕 丕賱賯丕 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁�. 倬蹖乇賳诏蹖 讴賴 丕賵賳 乇賵 亘賴鈥屬呚必ж� 賵丕囟丨鈥屫� 丕夭 丨賵丕丿孬 賵丕賯毓蹖 亘蹖丕丿 賲蹖丕乇蹖賲 賵 亘賴卮 亘蹖卮鬲乇 丕賴賲蹖鬲 賲蹖鈥屫屬�. (丕蹖賳 賲胤賱亘 亘丕 賴賲蹖賳 讴賱賲丕鬲 賵 讴賲蹖 鬲睾蹖蹖乇 亘丕夭 丿乇 氐賮丨賴 鄄鄄鄱 讴鬲丕亘 鬲讴乇丕乇 卮丿賴鈥屫ж池�.) 氐賮丨賴 郾鄢鄣 讴鬲丕亘
丕诏乇 讴爻蹖 賳禺賵丕賴丿 丨乇賮蹖 亘賴 诏賵卮 賲丕 亘乇爻丿貙 賴賲賴 讴丕乇 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃屬� 讴賴 丕夭 丌賳 爻乇 丿乇 亘蹖丕賵乇蹖賲貙 賳賲蹖鈥屬佡囐呟屬� 诏丕賴蹖 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 趩蹖夭賴丕蹖蹖 乇丕 亘賴 禺丕胤乇 禺賵丿賲丕賳 丕夭 賲丕 賲禺賮蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁嗀� 鬲丕 賲兀蹖賵爻 賳卮賵蹖賲 蹖丕 賮讴乇賲丕賳 丿乇诏蹖乇 賳卮賵丿. 氐賮丨賴 郾鄣鄹 讴鬲丕亘
亘毓丿 丕夭 賯乇賳鈥屬囏� 鬲賲乇蹖賳貙 亘毓丿 丕夭 丕蹖賳鈥屬囐呝� 倬蹖卮乇賮鬲 賵 丕禺鬲乇丕毓丕鬲 卮诏賮鬲鈥屫з嗂屫藏� 賴賳賵夭 乇丕賴蹖 賵噩賵丿 賳丿丕乇丿 讴賴 亘賮賴賲蹖賲 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 讴蹖 丨乇賮 乇丕爻鬲 賲蹖鈥屫操嗁嗀�. 胤亘蹖毓鬲丕賸 丕蹖賳 亘乇丕蹖 賴賲賴 賲丕 賲賳丕賮毓 賵 賲锟斤拷乇丕鬲 蹖讴爻丕賳蹖 丿丕乇丿 賵 卮丕蹖丿 鬲賳賴丕 爻賳诏乇 亘丕夭賲丕賳丿賴 丕夭 丌夭丕丿蹖 亘丕卮丿. 氐賮丨賴 鄄鄞鄞 讴鬲丕亘
賴蹖趩讴爻 賳賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 丕毓鬲乇丕囟 讴賳賴 讴賴 趩乇丕 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕 丕賵賲丿賴 蹖丕 趩乇丕 賯亘賱丕賸 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕 丕賵賲丿賴 蹖丕 趩乇丕 賴賲蹖卮賴 夭賳丿賴 賳賲蹖鈥屬呝堎嗁�. 亘賳丕亘乇丕蹖賳 趩乇丕 丌丿賲 亘丕蹖丿 亘賴 賲乇丿賳 蹖丕 賳亘賵丿賳 鬲賵蹖 丿賳蹖丕 蹖丕 鬲丕 丕亘丿 賳賲賵賳丿賳 鬲賵蹖 丿賳蹖丕 丕毓鬲乇丕囟蹖 亘讴賳賴責 亘賴 賳馗乇卮 賴乇 丿賵蹖 丕蹖賳 賳賯胤賴 賳馗乇賴丕 丕丨賲賯丕賳賴 亘賵丿. 賲丕 丕毓鬲乇丕囟蹖 亘賴 鬲丕乇蹖禺 鬲賵賱丿賲賵賳 賳丿丕乇蹖賲 倬爻 趩乇丕 亘丕蹖丿 亘賴 鬲丕乇蹖禺 賲乇诏 賲賵賳 丕毓鬲乇丕囟 讴賳蹖賲 讴賴 讴丕賲賱丕賸 卮丕賳爻蹖賴. 丨鬲蹖 賲乇诏鈥屬囏й� 賳丕噩賵乇貙 丨鬲蹖 禺賵丿讴卮蹖 賴賲 亘賴 卮丕賳爻 乇亘胤 丿丕乇賴. 賵 趩賵賳 賴賲賴 賲丕 夭賲丕賳蹖 爻丕讴賳丕賳 禺賱丕 亘賵丿蹖賲 蹖丕 賵囟毓蹖鬲 毓丿賲 賵噩賵丿 乇賵 鬲噩乇亘賴 讴乇丿蹖賲貙 趩賴 趩蹖夭蹖 亘丕夭诏卮鬲 亘賴 丕賵賳 賲賵賯毓蹖鬲 乇賵 丕蹖賳鈥屬傌� 毓噩蹖亘 賵 賵丨卮鬲賳丕讴 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁囏� 氐賮丨賴 鄄鄹鄄 讴鬲丕亘
賵賯鬲蹖 賳賲蹖鈥屫з嗃� 趩賴 趩蹖夭蹖 乇丕 亘丕賵乇 讴賳蹖貙 賵賯鬲蹖 亘賱丿 賳蹖爻鬲蹖 賳賯卮 讴丕乇丌诏丕賴 丌賲丕鬲賵乇 乇丕 亘丕夭蹖 讴賳蹖 禺爻鬲賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堐� 賵 讴賱 賲丕噩乇丕 乇丕 賵丕 賲蹖鈥屫囒屫� 乇賴丕蹖卮 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃屫� 丿爻鬲 丕夭 賮讴乇 讴乇丿賳 亘乇賲蹖鈥屫ж臂� 賵 賲蹖鈥屫堌з囒� 丨賯蹖賯鬲 讴賱 丕蹖賳 鬲賵丿賴 丿乇賴賲 賮乇賵乇賮鬲賴鈥� 乇丕 讴賴 賴賲賴 亘賴 蹖讴 噩丕 禺鬲賲 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 讴卮賮 讴賳蹖. 賵丕賯毓蹖鬲 賴蹖趩鈥屬堎傌� 賲毓賱賵賲 賳賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 賴賲蹖卮賴 蹖讴 鬲賵丿賴 诏賵乇蹖丿賴 亘丕賯蹖 賲蹖鈥屬呚з嗀�. 丨鬲蹖 賵賯鬲蹖 亘賴 鬲賴卮 賲蹖鈥屫必驰�. 丕賲丕 丿乇 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 賳蹖丕夭蹖 亘賴 蹖丕賮鬲賳 丨賯蹖賯鬲 蹖丕 賮丿丕 讴乇丿賳 禺賵丿 亘乇丕蹖 讴卮賮 丌賳 賳蹖爻鬲. 丕蹖賳 丕鬲賮丕賯鈥屬囏� 賮賯胤 賲丕賱 乇賲丕賳鈥屬囏й� 亘趩诏丕賳賴鈥� 丕爻鬲. 氐賮丨賴 鄢郾鄞 讴鬲丕亘
亘賴 賯賵賱 禺賵丿 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 芦丿乇 亘丨孬 賵 鬲賮爻蹖乇 賵 丕賳丨乇丕賮 丕夭 賲賵囟賵毓貙 丕爻鬲毓丿丕丿 丌卮讴丕乇蹖 丿丕卮鬲. 賲鬲賵噩賴 卮丿賴鈥屫з� 丕蹖賳 丕爻鬲毓丿丕丿 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖 丕夭 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳蹖 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丿乇 丿賮鬲乇 丕賳鬲卮丕乇丕鬲 亘丕 丌賳鈥屬囏� 丌卮賳丕 卮丿賴鈥屫з�. 丕賳诏丕乇 爻蹖丕賴 讴乇丿賳 氐賮丨丕鬲 賲鬲毓丿丿 亘丕 丕賮讴丕乇 賵 丿丕爻鬲丕賳鈥屬囏� 讴賴 噩夭 丿乇 亘乇禺蹖 賲賵丕乇丿貙 倬賵趩貙 禺賵丿賳賲丕蹖丕賳賴貙 賳賮乇鬲鈥屫з嗂屫� 蹖丕 丕爻賮鈥屫ㄘж� 賴爻鬲賳丿 亘乇丕蹖卮丕賳 讴丕賮蹖 賳蹖爻鬲.禄 氐賮丨賴 郾鄢鄞 讴鬲丕亘
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亘毓囟蹖鈥屬囏� 丨鬲蹖 亘蹖 賲賳馗賵乇 賲丕 乇丕 賲蹖鈥屫嗀з嗁嗀�. 賲賴賲鈥屫臂屬� 丿賱蹖賱卮 丌賳 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丨囟賵乇 賱匕鬲鈥屫ㄘ篡� 丿丕乇賳丿. 亘賳丕亘乇丕蹖賳貙 亘賴鈥屫池ж� 丕夭 丿蹖丿賳卮丕賳 賵 亘賵丿賳 丿乇 讴賳丕乇卮丕賳 亘賴 賵噩丿 賲蹖鈥屫③屰屬�. 讴丕賮蹖 丕爻鬲 爻乇丕倬丕 诏賵卮 卮賵蹖賲. 丨鬲蹖 丕诏乇 丨乇賮 噩丕賱亘蹖 賳夭賳賳丿 蹖丕 趩乇賳丿 亘诏賵蹖賳丿 亘丕夭賴賲 亘賴 賳馗乇賲丕賳 噩丕賱亘 丕爻鬲. 氐賮丨賴 郾鄣 讴鬲丕亘
毓噩蹖亘 丕爻鬲 讴賴 毓丕丿鬲鈥屬囏й� 賲丕 丕蹖賳鈥屬傌� 丿乇 賲賯丕亘賱 鬲睾蹖蹖乇 賲賯丕賵賲鬲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁嗀�. 丨鬲蹖 賵賯鬲蹖 丌賳 鬲睾蹖蹖乇丕鬲 亘乇丕蹖 亘賴鬲乇 卮丿賳 亘丕卮賳丿. 氐賮丨賴 鄄鄣 讴鬲丕亘
賲丕 亘丕 賴夭丕乇丕賳 賲毓賲丕蹖 丨賱 賳卮丿賴鈥屫й� 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃屬� 讴賴 氐亘丨貙 丿賴 丿賯蹖賯賴 匕賴賳賲丕賳 乇丕 丕卮睾丕賱 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 賵 亘毓丿 賮乇丕賲賵卮 賲丕賳 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 亘蹖 乇毓卮賴 丕賳丿賵賴蹖 亘乇 噩丕賳貙 亘蹖鈥屬囒屭� 賳卮丕賳賴鈥屫й�. 氐賮丨賴鈥屫й� 鄞郾 讴鬲丕亘
诏丕賴 丕鬲賮丕賯丕鬲蹖 賲蹖鈥屫з佖� 讴賴 賳賲蹖鈥屫促� 賴蹖趩讴爻 乇賵 亘賴鈥屫ж坟必� 賲賯氐乇 丿賵賳爻鬲. 蹖丕 趩蹖夭蹖 亘賴 丕爻賲 亘丿卮丕賳爻蹖 賵噩賵丿 丿丕乇賴 蹖丕 诏丕賴蹖 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 丕夭 賲爻蹖乇 卮賵賳 禺丕乇噩 賲蹖卮賳貙 乇丕賴卮賵賳 乇賵 诏賲 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 賵 亘乇丕蹖 禺賵丿卮賵賳 亘丿亘禺鬲蹖 賵 丕丿亘丕乇 亘賴 亘丕乇 賲蹖丕乇賳. 氐賮丨賴 鄱鄞 讴鬲丕亘
丿乇 賴賲賵賳 夭賲丕賳 賵 鬲賵蹖 丕蹖賳 噩賴丕賳 賳丕賲胤賲卅賳 鬲賳賴丕 賳賲蹖鈥屬呝堎嗀屬呚� 噩賴丕賳蹖 讴賴 鬲賵蹖 丕賵賳 賴乇 趩蹖夭 丌卮賳丕蹖蹖 丕夭賲賵賳 爻賱亘 賲蹖鈥屫促�. 丕诏賴 丕蹖賳鈥屫� 賳亘丕卮蹖賲 賴蹖趩 趩蹖夭蹖 乇賵 賳賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 丕夭賲賵賳 亘诏蹖乇賳. 丕诏賴 禺賵丿賲賵賳 賲乇丿賴 亘丕卮蹖賲 丿蹖诏賴 趩蹖夭蹖 亘乇丕賲賵賳 賳賲蹖鈥屬呟屫辟�. 氐賮丨賴 鄹酃 讴鬲丕亘
丕蹖賳鈥屭┵� 趩賴 丕鬲賮丕賯蹖 丕賮鬲丕丿 丕氐賱丕 賲賴賲 賳蹖爻鬲. 丕蹖賳 蹖讴 乇賲丕賳賴 賵 賲賵賯毓蹖 讴賴 鬲賲賵賲 賲蹖鈥屫促� 丕鬲賮丕賯丕鬲 賴賲 丕賴賲蹖鬲卮賵賳 乇賵 丕夭 丿爻鬲 賲蹖鈥屫� 賵 乇丕丨鬲 賮乇丕賲賵卮 賲蹖卮賳. 賲賴賲 丕賲讴丕賳鈥屬囏� 賵 丕蹖丿賴鈥屬囏й屰屬� 讴賴 倬蹖乇賳诏 禺蹖丕賱蹖 乇賲丕賳 亘丕 賲丕 亘賴 丕卮鬲乇丕讴 賲蹖鈥屫柏ж辟� 賵 丕賵賳 乇賵 亘賴 賲丕 丕賱賯丕 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁�. 倬蹖乇賳诏蹖 讴賴 丕賵賳 乇賵 亘賴鈥屬呚必ж� 賵丕囟丨鈥屫� 丕夭 丨賵丕丿孬 賵丕賯毓蹖 亘蹖丕丿 賲蹖丕乇蹖賲 賵 亘賴卮 亘蹖卮鬲乇 丕賴賲蹖鬲 賲蹖鈥屫屬�. (丕蹖賳 賲胤賱亘 亘丕 賴賲蹖賳 讴賱賲丕鬲 賵 讴賲蹖 鬲睾蹖蹖乇 亘丕夭 丿乇 氐賮丨賴 鄄鄄鄱 讴鬲丕亘 鬲讴乇丕乇 卮丿賴鈥屫ж池�.) 氐賮丨賴 郾鄢鄣 讴鬲丕亘
丕诏乇 讴爻蹖 賳禺賵丕賴丿 丨乇賮蹖 亘賴 诏賵卮 賲丕 亘乇爻丿貙 賴賲賴 讴丕乇 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃屬� 讴賴 丕夭 丌賳 爻乇 丿乇 亘蹖丕賵乇蹖賲貙 賳賲蹖鈥屬佡囐呟屬� 诏丕賴蹖 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 趩蹖夭賴丕蹖蹖 乇丕 亘賴 禺丕胤乇 禺賵丿賲丕賳 丕夭 賲丕 賲禺賮蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁嗀� 鬲丕 賲兀蹖賵爻 賳卮賵蹖賲 蹖丕 賮讴乇賲丕賳 丿乇诏蹖乇 賳卮賵丿. 氐賮丨賴 郾鄣鄹 讴鬲丕亘
亘毓丿 丕夭 賯乇賳鈥屬囏� 鬲賲乇蹖賳貙 亘毓丿 丕夭 丕蹖賳鈥屬囐呝� 倬蹖卮乇賮鬲 賵 丕禺鬲乇丕毓丕鬲 卮诏賮鬲鈥屫з嗂屫藏� 賴賳賵夭 乇丕賴蹖 賵噩賵丿 賳丿丕乇丿 讴賴 亘賮賴賲蹖賲 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 讴蹖 丨乇賮 乇丕爻鬲 賲蹖鈥屫操嗁嗀�. 胤亘蹖毓鬲丕賸 丕蹖賳 亘乇丕蹖 賴賲賴 賲丕 賲賳丕賮毓 賵 賲锟斤拷乇丕鬲 蹖讴爻丕賳蹖 丿丕乇丿 賵 卮丕蹖丿 鬲賳賴丕 爻賳诏乇 亘丕夭賲丕賳丿賴 丕夭 丌夭丕丿蹖 亘丕卮丿. 氐賮丨賴 鄄鄞鄞 讴鬲丕亘
賴蹖趩讴爻 賳賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 丕毓鬲乇丕囟 讴賳賴 讴賴 趩乇丕 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕 丕賵賲丿賴 蹖丕 趩乇丕 賯亘賱丕賸 亘賴 丿賳蹖丕 丕賵賲丿賴 蹖丕 趩乇丕 賴賲蹖卮賴 夭賳丿賴 賳賲蹖鈥屬呝堎嗁�. 亘賳丕亘乇丕蹖賳 趩乇丕 丌丿賲 亘丕蹖丿 亘賴 賲乇丿賳 蹖丕 賳亘賵丿賳 鬲賵蹖 丿賳蹖丕 蹖丕 鬲丕 丕亘丿 賳賲賵賳丿賳 鬲賵蹖 丿賳蹖丕 丕毓鬲乇丕囟蹖 亘讴賳賴責 亘賴 賳馗乇卮 賴乇 丿賵蹖 丕蹖賳 賳賯胤賴 賳馗乇賴丕 丕丨賲賯丕賳賴 亘賵丿. 賲丕 丕毓鬲乇丕囟蹖 亘賴 鬲丕乇蹖禺 鬲賵賱丿賲賵賳 賳丿丕乇蹖賲 倬爻 趩乇丕 亘丕蹖丿 亘賴 鬲丕乇蹖禺 賲乇诏 賲賵賳 丕毓鬲乇丕囟 讴賳蹖賲 讴賴 讴丕賲賱丕賸 卮丕賳爻蹖賴. 丨鬲蹖 賲乇诏鈥屬囏й� 賳丕噩賵乇貙 丨鬲蹖 禺賵丿讴卮蹖 賴賲 亘賴 卮丕賳爻 乇亘胤 丿丕乇賴. 賵 趩賵賳 賴賲賴 賲丕 夭賲丕賳蹖 爻丕讴賳丕賳 禺賱丕 亘賵丿蹖賲 蹖丕 賵囟毓蹖鬲 毓丿賲 賵噩賵丿 乇賵 鬲噩乇亘賴 讴乇丿蹖賲貙 趩賴 趩蹖夭蹖 亘丕夭诏卮鬲 亘賴 丕賵賳 賲賵賯毓蹖鬲 乇賵 丕蹖賳鈥屬傌� 毓噩蹖亘 賵 賵丨卮鬲賳丕讴 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁囏� 氐賮丨賴 鄄鄹鄄 讴鬲丕亘
賵賯鬲蹖 賳賲蹖鈥屫з嗃� 趩賴 趩蹖夭蹖 乇丕 亘丕賵乇 讴賳蹖貙 賵賯鬲蹖 亘賱丿 賳蹖爻鬲蹖 賳賯卮 讴丕乇丌诏丕賴 丌賲丕鬲賵乇 乇丕 亘丕夭蹖 讴賳蹖 禺爻鬲賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堐� 賵 讴賱 賲丕噩乇丕 乇丕 賵丕 賲蹖鈥屫囒屫� 乇賴丕蹖卮 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃屫� 丿爻鬲 丕夭 賮讴乇 讴乇丿賳 亘乇賲蹖鈥屫ж臂� 賵 賲蹖鈥屫堌з囒� 丨賯蹖賯鬲 讴賱 丕蹖賳 鬲賵丿賴 丿乇賴賲 賮乇賵乇賮鬲賴鈥� 乇丕 讴賴 賴賲賴 亘賴 蹖讴 噩丕 禺鬲賲 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 讴卮賮 讴賳蹖. 賵丕賯毓蹖鬲 賴蹖趩鈥屬堎傌� 賲毓賱賵賲 賳賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 賴賲蹖卮賴 蹖讴 鬲賵丿賴 诏賵乇蹖丿賴 亘丕賯蹖 賲蹖鈥屬呚з嗀�. 丨鬲蹖 賵賯鬲蹖 亘賴 鬲賴卮 賲蹖鈥屫必驰�. 丕賲丕 丿乇 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 賳蹖丕夭蹖 亘賴 蹖丕賮鬲賳 丨賯蹖賯鬲 蹖丕 賮丿丕 讴乇丿賳 禺賵丿 亘乇丕蹖 讴卮賮 丌賳 賳蹖爻鬲. 丕蹖賳 丕鬲賮丕賯鈥屬囏� 賮賯胤 賲丕賱 乇賲丕賳鈥屬囏й� 亘趩诏丕賳賴鈥� 丕爻鬲. 氐賮丨賴 鄢郾鄞 讴鬲丕亘
March 13, 2014
God, I love reading. A good novel one of the greatest pleasures that we get in this life, and fuck you everyone who helped me forget that, and God bless you Javier Mar铆as for making me remember.
Okay, so I just invoked the Lord's name twice in one small paragraph, which must mean I'm a bit worked up. I don't know if I can convey how much I enjoyed this book, but beyond that, what a profound relief it was for me to enjoy it so much, now.
I'm coming up on the closing end of an MFA program. While in sum this has been great for me and I feel incredibly lucky to have been allowed all this time off from real life to read and write, in certain ways I feel that the experience damaged my relationship with the written word. It's made me cynical about writing, for one thing, and has compromised my ability to lose myself in books. This doubtless has a lot more to do with my personal pathology than with any flaw in the MFA system, but the discourse and assumptions of MFA-land (broadly speaking) have disrupted my historical enthusiasm for literature. To be fair -- and to emphasize that this is much more about my own eccentricities than anything else -- I did once go from being an obsessive bookworm-from-age-five to a near-illiterate due to high school English classes, which made me hate books, and I didn't read novels for almost two years after college because having been made to discuss and analyze it had temporarily ruined the thrill of fiction for me.
Fortunately, I don't think I'll suffer such long-term effects this time, thanks to the heroism of the brilliant Spaniard Javier Mar铆as!
I have a hard time articulating what I find so mortally offensive about my interpretation of the MFA dogma, but I think it might be the idea that everyone has something worth writing about, and that we just all need to learn certain skills in order to do it well. In fact, in my opinion, most people do not have anything worth writing about, or at least, do not have anything to write that I'd ever want to read. And that's simply because most of us humans do not have particularly interesting or original minds. I feel like a lot of the MFA world would object that this doesn't matter -- a lot of people have interesting stories, they might say, and thus the great need for all these billions of memoirs (and my response to this would be to vomit on their feet).
But yeah, I feel like the implication I picked up from MFA-land is that it doesn't matter if you don't have a uniquely fascinating mind; once you learn the tricks and techniques, you can manufacture some fiction and serve it up to people who will recognize the product as palatable and therefore consume it. I feel like that's what workshops are: sort of a quality control taste test, like what Applebee's probably has to make sure their newly developed recipes all taste like something they'd serve.
The analogy for me is cooking. The MFA is a cooking school that teaches eager students all kinds of techniques, from simple braising to complex foams, so that they can concoct all manner of restaurant-ready cuisines. The thing, though, for me, is that even with all these skills and bells and whistles, if you're using mediocre ingredients, how awesome can the dish you make ultimately be?
What matters isn't so much how you cook as what you're cooking with. In fiction, the ingredients are the author's brain, and if the author's brain isn't particularly juicy and tasty to begin with, you might wind up with a decent soup but the end product can only be but so great. Conversely, a brilliant writer can burn the hell out of something and write a shitty book; that happens all the time. But ideally, the chef's skills and technique will perfectly exploit and highlight the advantages of his raw materials, which is what Mar铆as accomplishes beautifully in The Infatuations.
The first sentence of this book scalded away the sour aftertaste of my MFA-acquired nitpicky hypercritical reading habit, and reminded me of what it's like to read for pure pleasure. Mar铆as's prose makes me feel like I'm a dog having my belly scratched, a bizarre thing to announce since I'm reading him in translation, which is like, I don't even know what it's like, falling in love with someone who's had a ton of drastic plastic surgery procedures done, like on those shows they had on TV a lot a decade ago where people got everything on their body redone at once, so that you don't actually know what they look like? Wait, I guess it's not like that at all. Never mind, jeez, I don't know... But if living in Miami for three years isn't enough motivation to learn Spanish (which evidently it hasn't been), wanting to read Mar铆as properly should be. I feel like he writes very much with translation in mind, but I also get confused by the parts where he explicitly discusses the language because I don't know what the Spanish would be and what the translator had to tweak.
Anyway, my confused non-point about the author's brain and all that is just that Mar铆as's mind is so compelling and fascinating that it makes me feel, as a lazy back-cover blurber might write, spellbound. I mean, I just feel like his mind literally casts a spell with his words and I don't care what happens in the book, as long as I can stay in it. Actually, this book did have a suspenseful plot and I did want to know what would happen next, but that pleasure was very much secondary to just wanting to keep on reading his sentences, inhabiting this consciousness he created, seeing the world from this perspective. I know people would disagree with me, but that power of seduction and hypnosis can't be taught in any school. And I may be wrong about this too, but I doubt anyone has ever inspired true love, or even profound infatuation, by relying on a copy of The Game or The Rules, which I imagine to be cooking-school-slash-MFA-in-book-form (forgive my mixed metaphors [or actually fuck it, don't, this ain't a workshop, if you don't like it too bad!]) for would-be seducers. Using these guides, you might get someone to sleep with you a few times, or who knows, even propose, but to make someone fall deeply in love with you, you need to have something in you capable of seriously inflaming another's passion. An organic tomato, as it were, or just a vision of the earth that's unlike any ordinary person's, but is enough like ours so that we can get lost in your work.
Anyway, I'm not going to say this book is for everyone, cause I bet it's not, but it's definitely for me. If you love long, recursive sentences and slow, largely internal, meditative fiction with a theoretically lurid, thriller-type plot but have not yet checked this guy out, do.
Okay, so I just invoked the Lord's name twice in one small paragraph, which must mean I'm a bit worked up. I don't know if I can convey how much I enjoyed this book, but beyond that, what a profound relief it was for me to enjoy it so much, now.
I'm coming up on the closing end of an MFA program. While in sum this has been great for me and I feel incredibly lucky to have been allowed all this time off from real life to read and write, in certain ways I feel that the experience damaged my relationship with the written word. It's made me cynical about writing, for one thing, and has compromised my ability to lose myself in books. This doubtless has a lot more to do with my personal pathology than with any flaw in the MFA system, but the discourse and assumptions of MFA-land (broadly speaking) have disrupted my historical enthusiasm for literature. To be fair -- and to emphasize that this is much more about my own eccentricities than anything else -- I did once go from being an obsessive bookworm-from-age-five to a near-illiterate due to high school English classes, which made me hate books, and I didn't read novels for almost two years after college because having been made to discuss and analyze it had temporarily ruined the thrill of fiction for me.
Fortunately, I don't think I'll suffer such long-term effects this time, thanks to the heroism of the brilliant Spaniard Javier Mar铆as!
I have a hard time articulating what I find so mortally offensive about my interpretation of the MFA dogma, but I think it might be the idea that everyone has something worth writing about, and that we just all need to learn certain skills in order to do it well. In fact, in my opinion, most people do not have anything worth writing about, or at least, do not have anything to write that I'd ever want to read. And that's simply because most of us humans do not have particularly interesting or original minds. I feel like a lot of the MFA world would object that this doesn't matter -- a lot of people have interesting stories, they might say, and thus the great need for all these billions of memoirs (and my response to this would be to vomit on their feet).
But yeah, I feel like the implication I picked up from MFA-land is that it doesn't matter if you don't have a uniquely fascinating mind; once you learn the tricks and techniques, you can manufacture some fiction and serve it up to people who will recognize the product as palatable and therefore consume it. I feel like that's what workshops are: sort of a quality control taste test, like what Applebee's probably has to make sure their newly developed recipes all taste like something they'd serve.
The analogy for me is cooking. The MFA is a cooking school that teaches eager students all kinds of techniques, from simple braising to complex foams, so that they can concoct all manner of restaurant-ready cuisines. The thing, though, for me, is that even with all these skills and bells and whistles, if you're using mediocre ingredients, how awesome can the dish you make ultimately be?
What matters isn't so much how you cook as what you're cooking with. In fiction, the ingredients are the author's brain, and if the author's brain isn't particularly juicy and tasty to begin with, you might wind up with a decent soup but the end product can only be but so great. Conversely, a brilliant writer can burn the hell out of something and write a shitty book; that happens all the time. But ideally, the chef's skills and technique will perfectly exploit and highlight the advantages of his raw materials, which is what Mar铆as accomplishes beautifully in The Infatuations.
The first sentence of this book scalded away the sour aftertaste of my MFA-acquired nitpicky hypercritical reading habit, and reminded me of what it's like to read for pure pleasure. Mar铆as's prose makes me feel like I'm a dog having my belly scratched, a bizarre thing to announce since I'm reading him in translation, which is like, I don't even know what it's like, falling in love with someone who's had a ton of drastic plastic surgery procedures done, like on those shows they had on TV a lot a decade ago where people got everything on their body redone at once, so that you don't actually know what they look like? Wait, I guess it's not like that at all. Never mind, jeez, I don't know... But if living in Miami for three years isn't enough motivation to learn Spanish (which evidently it hasn't been), wanting to read Mar铆as properly should be. I feel like he writes very much with translation in mind, but I also get confused by the parts where he explicitly discusses the language because I don't know what the Spanish would be and what the translator had to tweak.
Anyway, my confused non-point about the author's brain and all that is just that Mar铆as's mind is so compelling and fascinating that it makes me feel, as a lazy back-cover blurber might write, spellbound. I mean, I just feel like his mind literally casts a spell with his words and I don't care what happens in the book, as long as I can stay in it. Actually, this book did have a suspenseful plot and I did want to know what would happen next, but that pleasure was very much secondary to just wanting to keep on reading his sentences, inhabiting this consciousness he created, seeing the world from this perspective. I know people would disagree with me, but that power of seduction and hypnosis can't be taught in any school. And I may be wrong about this too, but I doubt anyone has ever inspired true love, or even profound infatuation, by relying on a copy of The Game or The Rules, which I imagine to be cooking-school-slash-MFA-in-book-form (forgive my mixed metaphors [or actually fuck it, don't, this ain't a workshop, if you don't like it too bad!]) for would-be seducers. Using these guides, you might get someone to sleep with you a few times, or who knows, even propose, but to make someone fall deeply in love with you, you need to have something in you capable of seriously inflaming another's passion. An organic tomato, as it were, or just a vision of the earth that's unlike any ordinary person's, but is enough like ours so that we can get lost in your work.
Anyway, I'm not going to say this book is for everyone, cause I bet it's not, but it's definitely for me. If you love long, recursive sentences and slow, largely internal, meditative fiction with a theoretically lurid, thriller-type plot but have not yet checked this guy out, do.
January 3, 2023
CRITIQUE:
A Gender of Her Own
Marias' first person narrator is a woman, Maria (with neither his accent, his "s" nor his balls).
It's tempting to read this novel, preoccupied by the search for evidence that this is a foolish narrative device (e.g., the fear that we might find sentences like "a gust of cold air made my nipples hard," which, rest assured, doesn't appear within!). However, such a quest would really only deprive the reader of the pleasure of the text.
It's true that the novel reads very much like Marias' other novels, all of which are narrated by males.
However, the resemblance results more from the consistency of Marias' preoccupations and use of language.
You could argue that no two Beatles' songs sound alike, apart perhaps from the vocals. However, Marias has more in common with the first five I.R.S. albums by R.E.M., which crafted a highly consistent and identifiable sound. You could always tell an R.E.M. song, before Michael Stipe opened his mouth.
A Sentimental Attachment
It helps that Marias places Maria in a publishing house. She doesn't just read books, she edits and promotes them. More importantly, she doesn't just edit contemporary literature professionally, she reads it for pleasure. Thus, it makes sense that Maria shares Marias' sensitivity and attention to detail:
If we don't find the narrator's gender convincing in the first half, then by the second half, it's arguably less of a concern. The difference is that, in the first half, Maria focuses on other people. In the second half, her own relationships move to the forefront.
A Woman's Observation
What Marias' narrators of both genders share are remarkable powers of observation, not just of the external environment, but also of body language, conversational nuance, sentiment, emotion, motive, causation and effect.
The advantage that a female narrator gives Marias is the ability to judge men (and women) from a female point of view.
In this case, the difference lies in the mark each sex wishes to make on the world.
However, to some extent, Maria can also judge Marias, or at least the device allows Marias to purport to judge himself from the perspective of a woman.
A Life in Sentences
I've read a lot of sentences since joining GR, as well as a lot about sentences. I've come to belatedly admire Proust. However, of the authors I like who are still living today, I'm almost ready to say that Marias is the most impressive (some credit should probably go to his English translator, Margaret Jull Costa).
Each sentence contributes to the narrative flow of the overall drama. However, many individual sentences (some of which extend imperceptibly for pages) contain their own mini-drama, as if the sentence in its modest entirety contained the whole of a discrete narrative. If the novel is a universe, then one of these sentences is a galaxy.
Marias makes a unique and consummate stylist like William H. Gass look arid, angry and academic. With Marias, you get a sense of an intellectual and emotional life lived (and not just observed) to the fullest.
The Theatrical Gaze
Maria is frequently gazed at. Equally, she gazes at others, both women and men.
Still, the events that she recounts concern people who seem larger than life, if only because of the level of drama that surrounds them, or rather with which they have surrounded themselves:
There is more than one infatuation in the novel. The title is, after all, plural. One of the two on stage is infatuated with the other, and Maria is infatuated with them (singular).
So much happens in the mind, so much is thought, yet for me the novel has all of the dramatic tension of theatre.
Between Stage and Stalls
There is a murder at the heart of the novel (committed early on). Maria gets entangled in the aftermath. As she says, she is an editor, not a detective. However, she gets close enough to the events to examine, witness and appraise the unfolding of the story, indeed to narrate it.
She also breaks down the distance, the barrier between stage and stalls. From this proximity, she learns what good actors people can be. She learns about the art of deception.
Equally, we readers learn that the illusion of theatre and fiction gives us the ability to think and act like a murderer. It allows us to humanise, personalise and contextualise crime, without necessarily judging it or the perpetrators, so that it's not totally absurd to say, "Yes, a murder, nothing more."
The Return of the Dead
This line comes from Dumas' "The Three Musketeers". Marias also alludes frequently to "Macbeth" and Balzac's novella, "Colonel Chabert".
What Marias makes of these allusions is a tale about death, time, the timing of death, and the manner of its happening.
None of us can know the timing of our own death. If we suffer an accident or are murdered (like Lady Macbeth - "The queen, my Lord, is dead"), another factor intervenes, when we "should have died hereafter".
But we all have to die, and ironically the timing and manner of our death is of less concern to us (for we had to die sooner or later, and now we are dead), than it is to those around us.
It's others who suffer grief, and wish for a time that they could bring us back. Alternatively, they might wish to avoid grief altogether:
The Erasure of the Past
On the other hand, the lesson to be drawn from Balzac's novella is that, if we are dead or believed to be dead, it is better for all concerned that we not return ("it is a mistake for the dead to return").
Time, having passed, should not be rewound. If we vanish, we should vanish for good, if not necessarily, for better. It is the function of the present to forget, to minimise, to erase the past. The present should let it be:
Or to put it another way:
"Fortunately or unfortunately, the dead are as fixed as paintings, they don't move, they don't add anything, they don't speak and never respond. And they are wrong to come back, those who can."
The Stain of Memory and Guilt
This might be sage advice. However, our memories work against it. They preserve in us fragments, remnants, vestiges, ghosts of the past:
"Anything anyone tells you becomes absorbed in your consciousness, even if you don't believe it or know that it never happened and that it's pure invention, like novels and films, like the remote story of Colonel Chabert."
Of course, if we are the perpetrator of a crime, the poison that drove us (e.g., envy, covetousness, greed), the poison we have used, might remain as a permanent, ineradicable, damned spot or blot or stain or mark on our conscience as well.
Yes, a Murder, Nothing More
In deciding whether to commit the crime, we have to weigh up the burden of the stain:
"What would be the point of having impregnated myself like this, with this murder, this conspiracy, this horror, of carrying the deceit and the betrayal within my breast for ever, of never being able to shake them off or forget them except in moments of unconsciousness...what would be the point of having established a link that will reappear in my dreams and that I will never be able to break, what would be the point of all this vileness, if I fail to reach my one goal?"
Unfortunately, in the case of murder (even if it be nothing more), the crime is irreversible. We cannot wake the dead (as Macbeth says, "I would thou couldst"). Thus, we might be left with the collective burdens of memory, guilt and punishment.
Crime and Punishment
As Maria acquires knowledge and understanding, she must determine what to do with it.
This is perhaps where Marias speculates that women, or at least Maria, might be different from men:
"It doesn't matter that some, if not most, civilian [criminal] acts go unrecorded, ignored, as is the norm. Men, however, tend to strive to achieve quite the opposite effect, although they often fail: to leave branded on the skin a fleur-de-lys that perpetuates and accuses and condemns, and possibly unleashes more crimes. That would probably have been my intention with anyone else, or with him too, had I not fallen stupidly and silently in love, and if I did not still love him a little."
Marias doesn't expressly say it, but women might have a greater capacity for grace and forgiveness, while men tend to bear grudges, not to mention being more prepared to remove obstacles in the way of getting what they want (even if the manner of removal might be criminal).
Between Two Chance Events
Life consists of two chance events: our birth and our death. We are not usually responsible for the timing of either. Equally, we meet people (one chance event), fall in love or become infatuated ("el enamoramiento"), fall out of love, part company and recover (the second chance event).
Maria faces this reality with almost superhuman equanimity:
"In the end, everything tends toward attenuation, sometimes little by little and thanks to great effort on our part; sometimes with unexpected speed and contrary to our will, while we struggle in vain to keep faces from fading and paling into nothing, and deeds and words from becoming blurred objects that drift about in our memory with the same scant value as those we've read about in novels or seen and heard in films..."
Love, like time, passes. As Maria says, "It will pass, it already is passing, that's why I don't mind acknowledging it."
In a way, she acknowledges that it's up to us to determine how much or how little we fit between two chance events.
Whether a woman or a man was responsible for it, it is nevertheless a timeless and beautifully composed acknowledgement.
SOUNDTRACK:
Mayot Cafe and Foodstore
The last time I saw Joffrey was also the last time I went to the Mayot Cafe. I had never spoken to him. When he wasn't alone, he tended to be with one of two people. One I assumed must have been his wife, for he was never with any other woman, and unlike the other customers, he didn't flirt with the staff, at least in my presence. The other was possibly an old school friend or his attorney or his stock broker. The other man was always dressed in a suit. Earlier in the week, when the two of them had been there together, I had overheard the other man use phrases like "diversified portfolios", which along with everything else Joffrey attentively typed into his iPad. This last day, however, he was alone, though judging by the number of times he looked at his watch, he was expecting somebody else to arrive. When at last he read the messages on his phone, he ordered a cup of coffee, and took a book out of his bag. It seemed like his friend wasn't coming or that they would be delayed. If he had been a little less chubby, I might have found him attractive. Before I learned he might be married, when I had only seen him dining by himself, I even wondered whether I should initiate a conversation with him. But I didn't. Still, on this last day, when it would have been too late anyway, I loved the way his lips moved silently while he read his book. It made me want to go right over and kiss them. I nearly did. For a moment, it seemed as if we might leave at the same time, but he ordered another coffee. Just as it arrived and I was about to depart, he closed his book and set it very precisely on the table, then he leaned back and took a photo of it against the background of the plaza outside the cafe. He looked very pleased with himself. Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend.
A Gender of Her Own
Marias' first person narrator is a woman, Maria (with neither his accent, his "s" nor his balls).
It's tempting to read this novel, preoccupied by the search for evidence that this is a foolish narrative device (e.g., the fear that we might find sentences like "a gust of cold air made my nipples hard," which, rest assured, doesn't appear within!). However, such a quest would really only deprive the reader of the pleasure of the text.
It's true that the novel reads very much like Marias' other novels, all of which are narrated by males.
However, the resemblance results more from the consistency of Marias' preoccupations and use of language.
You could argue that no two Beatles' songs sound alike, apart perhaps from the vocals. However, Marias has more in common with the first five I.R.S. albums by R.E.M., which crafted a highly consistent and identifiable sound. You could always tell an R.E.M. song, before Michael Stipe opened his mouth.
A Sentimental Attachment
It helps that Marias places Maria in a publishing house. She doesn't just read books, she edits and promotes them. More importantly, she doesn't just edit contemporary literature professionally, she reads it for pleasure. Thus, it makes sense that Maria shares Marias' sensitivity and attention to detail:
"I knew that the publishing house was, for me, a place tinged with sentiment, which is impossible to conceal or avoid, even if the sentiment is only half-imagined."
If we don't find the narrator's gender convincing in the first half, then by the second half, it's arguably less of a concern. The difference is that, in the first half, Maria focuses on other people. In the second half, her own relationships move to the forefront.
A Woman's Observation
What Marias' narrators of both genders share are remarkable powers of observation, not just of the external environment, but also of body language, conversational nuance, sentiment, emotion, motive, causation and effect.
The advantage that a female narrator gives Marias is the ability to judge men (and women) from a female point of view.
In this case, the difference lies in the mark each sex wishes to make on the world.
However, to some extent, Maria can also judge Marias, or at least the device allows Marias to purport to judge himself from the perspective of a woman.
A Life in Sentences
I've read a lot of sentences since joining GR, as well as a lot about sentences. I've come to belatedly admire Proust. However, of the authors I like who are still living today, I'm almost ready to say that Marias is the most impressive (some credit should probably go to his English translator, Margaret Jull Costa).
Each sentence contributes to the narrative flow of the overall drama. However, many individual sentences (some of which extend imperceptibly for pages) contain their own mini-drama, as if the sentence in its modest entirety contained the whole of a discrete narrative. If the novel is a universe, then one of these sentences is a galaxy.
Marias makes a unique and consummate stylist like William H. Gass look arid, angry and academic. With Marias, you get a sense of an intellectual and emotional life lived (and not just observed) to the fullest.
The Theatrical Gaze
Maria is frequently gazed at. Equally, she gazes at others, both women and men.
Still, the events that she recounts concern people who seem larger than life, if only because of the level of drama that surrounds them, or rather with which they have surrounded themselves:
"I had a good view of them both, in profile, as if I were in the stalls and they were on stage, except that we were on the same level...I didn't want to be disturbed. I didn't want to take my eyes off that stage-like table..."
There is more than one infatuation in the novel. The title is, after all, plural. One of the two on stage is infatuated with the other, and Maria is infatuated with them (singular).
So much happens in the mind, so much is thought, yet for me the novel has all of the dramatic tension of theatre.
Between Stage and Stalls
There is a murder at the heart of the novel (committed early on). Maria gets entangled in the aftermath. As she says, she is an editor, not a detective. However, she gets close enough to the events to examine, witness and appraise the unfolding of the story, indeed to narrate it.
She also breaks down the distance, the barrier between stage and stalls. From this proximity, she learns what good actors people can be. She learns about the art of deception.
Equally, we readers learn that the illusion of theatre and fiction gives us the ability to think and act like a murderer. It allows us to humanise, personalise and contextualise crime, without necessarily judging it or the perpetrators, so that it's not totally absurd to say, "Yes, a murder, nothing more."
The Return of the Dead
This line comes from Dumas' "The Three Musketeers". Marias also alludes frequently to "Macbeth" and Balzac's novella, "Colonel Chabert".
What Marias makes of these allusions is a tale about death, time, the timing of death, and the manner of its happening.
None of us can know the timing of our own death. If we suffer an accident or are murdered (like Lady Macbeth - "The queen, my Lord, is dead"), another factor intervenes, when we "should have died hereafter".
But we all have to die, and ironically the timing and manner of our death is of less concern to us (for we had to die sooner or later, and now we are dead), than it is to those around us.
It's others who suffer grief, and wish for a time that they could bring us back. Alternatively, they might wish to avoid grief altogether:
"She should have died later on, when I wasn't alive to hear the news, or to see or to dream anything; when I was no longer in time and incapable, therefore, of understanding."
The Erasure of the Past
On the other hand, the lesson to be drawn from Balzac's novella is that, if we are dead or believed to be dead, it is better for all concerned that we not return ("it is a mistake for the dead to return").
Time, having passed, should not be rewound. If we vanish, we should vanish for good, if not necessarily, for better. It is the function of the present to forget, to minimise, to erase the past. The present should let it be:
"...with the passing of time, what has been should continue to have been, to exist only in the past, as is always or almost always the case, that is how life is intended to be, so there is no undoing what is done and no unhappening what has happened; the dead must stay where they are and nothing can be corrected."
Or to put it another way:
"Fortunately or unfortunately, the dead are as fixed as paintings, they don't move, they don't add anything, they don't speak and never respond. And they are wrong to come back, those who can."
The Stain of Memory and Guilt
This might be sage advice. However, our memories work against it. They preserve in us fragments, remnants, vestiges, ghosts of the past:
"Anything anyone tells you becomes absorbed in your consciousness, even if you don't believe it or know that it never happened and that it's pure invention, like novels and films, like the remote story of Colonel Chabert."
Of course, if we are the perpetrator of a crime, the poison that drove us (e.g., envy, covetousness, greed), the poison we have used, might remain as a permanent, ineradicable, damned spot or blot or stain or mark on our conscience as well.
Yes, a Murder, Nothing More
In deciding whether to commit the crime, we have to weigh up the burden of the stain:
"What would be the point of having impregnated myself like this, with this murder, this conspiracy, this horror, of carrying the deceit and the betrayal within my breast for ever, of never being able to shake them off or forget them except in moments of unconsciousness...what would be the point of having established a link that will reappear in my dreams and that I will never be able to break, what would be the point of all this vileness, if I fail to reach my one goal?"
Unfortunately, in the case of murder (even if it be nothing more), the crime is irreversible. We cannot wake the dead (as Macbeth says, "I would thou couldst"). Thus, we might be left with the collective burdens of memory, guilt and punishment.
Crime and Punishment
As Maria acquires knowledge and understanding, she must determine what to do with it.
This is perhaps where Marias speculates that women, or at least Maria, might be different from men:
"It doesn't matter that some, if not most, civilian [criminal] acts go unrecorded, ignored, as is the norm. Men, however, tend to strive to achieve quite the opposite effect, although they often fail: to leave branded on the skin a fleur-de-lys that perpetuates and accuses and condemns, and possibly unleashes more crimes. That would probably have been my intention with anyone else, or with him too, had I not fallen stupidly and silently in love, and if I did not still love him a little."
Marias doesn't expressly say it, but women might have a greater capacity for grace and forgiveness, while men tend to bear grudges, not to mention being more prepared to remove obstacles in the way of getting what they want (even if the manner of removal might be criminal).
Between Two Chance Events
Life consists of two chance events: our birth and our death. We are not usually responsible for the timing of either. Equally, we meet people (one chance event), fall in love or become infatuated ("el enamoramiento"), fall out of love, part company and recover (the second chance event).
Maria faces this reality with almost superhuman equanimity:
"In the end, everything tends toward attenuation, sometimes little by little and thanks to great effort on our part; sometimes with unexpected speed and contrary to our will, while we struggle in vain to keep faces from fading and paling into nothing, and deeds and words from becoming blurred objects that drift about in our memory with the same scant value as those we've read about in novels or seen and heard in films..."
Love, like time, passes. As Maria says, "It will pass, it already is passing, that's why I don't mind acknowledging it."
In a way, she acknowledges that it's up to us to determine how much or how little we fit between two chance events.
Whether a woman or a man was responsible for it, it is nevertheless a timeless and beautifully composed acknowledgement.
SOUNDTRACK:
Mayot Cafe and Foodstore
The last time I saw Joffrey was also the last time I went to the Mayot Cafe. I had never spoken to him. When he wasn't alone, he tended to be with one of two people. One I assumed must have been his wife, for he was never with any other woman, and unlike the other customers, he didn't flirt with the staff, at least in my presence. The other was possibly an old school friend or his attorney or his stock broker. The other man was always dressed in a suit. Earlier in the week, when the two of them had been there together, I had overheard the other man use phrases like "diversified portfolios", which along with everything else Joffrey attentively typed into his iPad. This last day, however, he was alone, though judging by the number of times he looked at his watch, he was expecting somebody else to arrive. When at last he read the messages on his phone, he ordered a cup of coffee, and took a book out of his bag. It seemed like his friend wasn't coming or that they would be delayed. If he had been a little less chubby, I might have found him attractive. Before I learned he might be married, when I had only seen him dining by himself, I even wondered whether I should initiate a conversation with him. But I didn't. Still, on this last day, when it would have been too late anyway, I loved the way his lips moved silently while he read his book. It made me want to go right over and kiss them. I nearly did. For a moment, it seemed as if we might leave at the same time, but he ordered another coffee. Just as it arrived and I was about to depart, he closed his book and set it very precisely on the table, then he leaned back and took a photo of it against the background of the plaza outside the cafe. He looked very pleased with himself. Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend.
August 22, 2013
I have patience for the long, drawn out, run-on sentences. This novel taxed my patience. It could have been a fairly good novel if it was reduced by two-thirds. That said, the story is narrated (somewhat) by a woman named Maria. I write 鈥渟omewhat鈥� because three-quarters of the novel is in her head, what she conjectures other characters thinking or what they might say. I got confused many times: did that person say that or did Maria envision them saying that? Maria notices a 鈥淧erfect Couple鈥� every morning at her morning cafe. This couple is noticeably in love and enviable. What transpires is that the husband of the couple is horrendously murdered. Through happenstance, Maria gets information about why the murder was committed(it wasn't a random event). The novel then becomes a rumination of whether Maria should come forth and get involved. Are some murders justified? What is a murder? Would the wife be better off knowing the information Maria has? What good would her information serve? Is what she learns actually true? It鈥檚 336 pages of digressions, discourse, conjuring, and arbitrary syntactic leaps. Interesting idea; it could have been told in a short story.
February 5, 2019
Voyeurism is the sexual interest in or practice of spying on people engaged in intimate behaviours, such as undressing, sexual activity, or other actions usually considered to be of a private nature. [Hirschfeld]
The argument proposed here is that reading a book is an act of voyeurism, with us readers spying on the intimate lives of the characters. Javier Marias is one of the best writers to take this idea on and run through every implication and variation, adding some of his signature touches in the mix (pervasive morbidity and never-ending phrasing among others)
This is not a plot driven story, but it is a novel after all, and there are some rules to follow. You need some characters and a conflict of sorts as a starting point for your speculations about life, death and love. We begin with a young single woman, Maria Dolz, working as an editor at a prestigious Madrid publishing house. She takes her breakfast every morning at her favorite coffee house, and there she likes to speculate about the lives of a happy couple, very much in love, that she usually sees sitting across from her. Until one day the routine is broken.
You could say that I wished them all the best in the world, as if they were characters in a novel or a film for whom one is rooting right from the start, knowing that something bad is going to happen to them, that at some point, things will go horribly wrong, otherwise there would be no no novel or film.
Maria is paraphrasing the great Tolstoy here, or rather Javier Marias is playing with the reader like a cat with her toy mouse, embedding meta-fictional touches in the story, as he will do later with numerous references to a novella by Balzac: "Colonel Chabert". It's thrilling I guess to have a writer who let's you see the nuts and bolts of how he constructs his edifice, or, to make another analogy, to have a magician show you how he does his tricks. Marias uses here to great effect the contrast between the state of bliss before the event and the grief and longing after the thunder has struck.
Perhaps it was his wife who mainly made him laugh, for there are people who can make us laugh even when they don't intend to, largely because their very presence pleases us, and so it's easy enough to set us off, simply seeing them and being in their company and hearing them is all it takes, even if they're not saying anything very extraordinary or are even deliberately spouting nonsense, which we nevertheless find funny.
If you think I'm speaking in riddles, let me state the facts now : Miguel Desvern is killed one morning in a brutal knifing attack as he was going to work. The perpetrator apparently confused him with someone else. The widow, Luisa Alday, is inconsolable, her whole life torn apart in an act of senseless violence. She retracts into her shell, catatonic, neither her children, her husband's best friend, or even Maria once they get acquainted, managing to convince her that life does go on after such a tragedy.
How dreadful to have such a thing happen to you, I mean what happened to your favorite couple. To begin a day like any other with not the faintest idea that someone is going to take your life, and in the most brutal manner.
This is not my first novel by Marias, and I sort of knew what to expect, but I confess I struggled a bit with his focus on despair, death, loss. He goes on and on about the pain Louisa, and indirectly Maria, are going through. The payoff is in another of those meta-fictional touches the author slips in between the descriptive passages of spiritual agony, when he addresses us, the readers, directly:
We live quite happily with a thousand unresolved mysteries that occupy our minds for ten minutes in the morning and are forgotten without leaving so much as a tremor of grief, not a trace. We don't want to go too deeply into anything or linger too long over any event or story, we need to have our attention shifted from one thing to another, to be given a constantly renewed supply of other people's misfortunes, as if, after each one, we thought: 'How dreadful. But what's next? What other horrors have we avoided? We need to feel that we, by contrast, are survivors, immortals, so feed us some new atrocities, we've worn out yesterday's already.'
As a side note, this quote is one of his shortest ones I've bookmarked, and incomplete to boot. After Faulkner, Marias is probably the best author to run a sentence over several pages with elegance, style, and most of all 鈥� a coherent vision. He can write shorter dialogues, when he is bothered to try, and they are as impactful:
"What's the point if we're all doomed anyway? It's all pointless. Whatever we do, we'll only be waiting, like dead men on leave, as someone once said."
Even his characters get enough of doom after awhile, and the focus of the novel shifts slightly on how to rebuild your life after the love has gone, or in the absence of a love so strong the poets would swoon about it for ages. Maria gets romantically involved with Diaz-Varela, the family friend, graduating from voyeur to full-part actor.
But please, no more of these macabre conversations, they give me the creeps. Let's go and have a drink and talk about something more cheerful.
The fly in the ointment is that the new love story is not that cheerful (this is still Javier Marias we're dealing with here), and the conversations about the dead man continue, drawing numerous parallels to the Balzac hero, Colonel Chabert, who returns from the dead to find all his assets sold and his wife married to somebody else. The implication here being that Diaz-Varela might have something to do with the tragic death of his friend Desvern.
Among the interesting developments in this second half of the novel, are the pragmatic views of Maria on modern romance:
We cannot pretend to be the first or the favourite, we are merely what is available, the leftovers, the leaving, the survivors, the remnants, the remaindered goods, and it is on this somewhat ignoble basis that the greatest loves are built and on which the greatest families are founded, and from which we all come, the product of chance and making do, of other people's rejections and timidities and failures, and yet we would give anything sometimes to stay by the side of the person we rescued from an attic or a clearance sale, or won in a game of cards or who picked us up from among the scraps; strange though it may seem, we manage to believe in these chance fallings in love, and many think they can see the hand of destiny in what is really nothing more than a village raffle at the fag-end of summer...
also, in her own words:
His was merely a brief hope cut short, a hope that was inevitable tenuous and somewhat sceptical, because an absence of enthusiasm is not something that can be easily concealed and is obvious even to the most optimistic of lovers.
And I must once again underline how Marias is a writer's writer, self-aware and self-assured to include the keys to his enigma in plain view:
What happened is the least of it. It's a novel, and once you've finished a novel, what happens in it is of little importance and soon forgotten. What matter are the possibilities and ideas that the novel's imaginary plot communicates to us and infuses us with, a plot that we recall far more vividly than real events and to which we pay far more attention.
and again:
I was entirely dependent on him now, as one always is on the person doing the telling, for he is the one who decides where to begin and where to end, what to reveal and suggest and keep silent about, when to tell the truth and when to lie or whether to combine the two so that neither is recognizable, or whether to deceive with the truth, as I had initially suspected he was trying to do with me;
So, what did I take from my lecture? My admiration for the author is reaffirmed, although I'm not in a hurry to return to his often disturbing imaginary settings. And I want to read that Balzac novella he considers so important.
The argument proposed here is that reading a book is an act of voyeurism, with us readers spying on the intimate lives of the characters. Javier Marias is one of the best writers to take this idea on and run through every implication and variation, adding some of his signature touches in the mix (pervasive morbidity and never-ending phrasing among others)
This is not a plot driven story, but it is a novel after all, and there are some rules to follow. You need some characters and a conflict of sorts as a starting point for your speculations about life, death and love. We begin with a young single woman, Maria Dolz, working as an editor at a prestigious Madrid publishing house. She takes her breakfast every morning at her favorite coffee house, and there she likes to speculate about the lives of a happy couple, very much in love, that she usually sees sitting across from her. Until one day the routine is broken.
You could say that I wished them all the best in the world, as if they were characters in a novel or a film for whom one is rooting right from the start, knowing that something bad is going to happen to them, that at some point, things will go horribly wrong, otherwise there would be no no novel or film.
Maria is paraphrasing the great Tolstoy here, or rather Javier Marias is playing with the reader like a cat with her toy mouse, embedding meta-fictional touches in the story, as he will do later with numerous references to a novella by Balzac: "Colonel Chabert". It's thrilling I guess to have a writer who let's you see the nuts and bolts of how he constructs his edifice, or, to make another analogy, to have a magician show you how he does his tricks. Marias uses here to great effect the contrast between the state of bliss before the event and the grief and longing after the thunder has struck.
Perhaps it was his wife who mainly made him laugh, for there are people who can make us laugh even when they don't intend to, largely because their very presence pleases us, and so it's easy enough to set us off, simply seeing them and being in their company and hearing them is all it takes, even if they're not saying anything very extraordinary or are even deliberately spouting nonsense, which we nevertheless find funny.
If you think I'm speaking in riddles, let me state the facts now : Miguel Desvern is killed one morning in a brutal knifing attack as he was going to work. The perpetrator apparently confused him with someone else. The widow, Luisa Alday, is inconsolable, her whole life torn apart in an act of senseless violence. She retracts into her shell, catatonic, neither her children, her husband's best friend, or even Maria once they get acquainted, managing to convince her that life does go on after such a tragedy.
How dreadful to have such a thing happen to you, I mean what happened to your favorite couple. To begin a day like any other with not the faintest idea that someone is going to take your life, and in the most brutal manner.
This is not my first novel by Marias, and I sort of knew what to expect, but I confess I struggled a bit with his focus on despair, death, loss. He goes on and on about the pain Louisa, and indirectly Maria, are going through. The payoff is in another of those meta-fictional touches the author slips in between the descriptive passages of spiritual agony, when he addresses us, the readers, directly:
We live quite happily with a thousand unresolved mysteries that occupy our minds for ten minutes in the morning and are forgotten without leaving so much as a tremor of grief, not a trace. We don't want to go too deeply into anything or linger too long over any event or story, we need to have our attention shifted from one thing to another, to be given a constantly renewed supply of other people's misfortunes, as if, after each one, we thought: 'How dreadful. But what's next? What other horrors have we avoided? We need to feel that we, by contrast, are survivors, immortals, so feed us some new atrocities, we've worn out yesterday's already.'
As a side note, this quote is one of his shortest ones I've bookmarked, and incomplete to boot. After Faulkner, Marias is probably the best author to run a sentence over several pages with elegance, style, and most of all 鈥� a coherent vision. He can write shorter dialogues, when he is bothered to try, and they are as impactful:
"What's the point if we're all doomed anyway? It's all pointless. Whatever we do, we'll only be waiting, like dead men on leave, as someone once said."
Even his characters get enough of doom after awhile, and the focus of the novel shifts slightly on how to rebuild your life after the love has gone, or in the absence of a love so strong the poets would swoon about it for ages. Maria gets romantically involved with Diaz-Varela, the family friend, graduating from voyeur to full-part actor.
But please, no more of these macabre conversations, they give me the creeps. Let's go and have a drink and talk about something more cheerful.
The fly in the ointment is that the new love story is not that cheerful (this is still Javier Marias we're dealing with here), and the conversations about the dead man continue, drawing numerous parallels to the Balzac hero, Colonel Chabert, who returns from the dead to find all his assets sold and his wife married to somebody else. The implication here being that Diaz-Varela might have something to do with the tragic death of his friend Desvern.
Among the interesting developments in this second half of the novel, are the pragmatic views of Maria on modern romance:
We cannot pretend to be the first or the favourite, we are merely what is available, the leftovers, the leaving, the survivors, the remnants, the remaindered goods, and it is on this somewhat ignoble basis that the greatest loves are built and on which the greatest families are founded, and from which we all come, the product of chance and making do, of other people's rejections and timidities and failures, and yet we would give anything sometimes to stay by the side of the person we rescued from an attic or a clearance sale, or won in a game of cards or who picked us up from among the scraps; strange though it may seem, we manage to believe in these chance fallings in love, and many think they can see the hand of destiny in what is really nothing more than a village raffle at the fag-end of summer...
also, in her own words:
His was merely a brief hope cut short, a hope that was inevitable tenuous and somewhat sceptical, because an absence of enthusiasm is not something that can be easily concealed and is obvious even to the most optimistic of lovers.
And I must once again underline how Marias is a writer's writer, self-aware and self-assured to include the keys to his enigma in plain view:
What happened is the least of it. It's a novel, and once you've finished a novel, what happens in it is of little importance and soon forgotten. What matter are the possibilities and ideas that the novel's imaginary plot communicates to us and infuses us with, a plot that we recall far more vividly than real events and to which we pay far more attention.
and again:
I was entirely dependent on him now, as one always is on the person doing the telling, for he is the one who decides where to begin and where to end, what to reveal and suggest and keep silent about, when to tell the truth and when to lie or whether to combine the two so that neither is recognizable, or whether to deceive with the truth, as I had initially suspected he was trying to do with me;
So, what did I take from my lecture? My admiration for the author is reaffirmed, although I'm not in a hurry to return to his often disturbing imaginary settings. And I want to read that Balzac novella he considers so important.
May 17, 2024
"O erro de julgar que o presente 茅 para sempre, que o que h谩 a cada instante 茅 definitivo, quando todos dever铆amos saber que nada o 茅, enquanto nos restar algum tempo. Trazemos 脿s costas as suficientes reviravoltas e os suficientes circuitos, n茫o apenas da fortuna mas do nosso 芒nimo. Vamos aprendendo que o que nos pareceu grav铆ssimo chegar谩 o dia em que ser谩 neutro, apenas um facto, apenas um dado."
didntfinish-yet
December 31, 2016You guys oh no I accidentally abandoned this book.
I mean, it wasn't actually an accident; I just came to the unignorable conclusion after 90ish pages that opening this book had become like being in one of those dreams where every part of your body is SO HEAVY that you can't even wiggle a single toe. Every time I thought about picking this up, suddenly I was rearranging the condiments in my fridge or mindlessly scrolling through Instagrams I'd already looked at like four times.
And I can't even really explain why! Okay well actually yes, I can: the writing. Because the plot is really interesting (I think?), but he has this quicksandy style where each sentence has like 400 subclauses and is approximately three pages long, and it's not like lush descriptions that you melt into, it's these endless imagined conversations each character has with herself, sort of narrating a scene that occurred offscreen, or tootling through a remembered moment, or methodically projecting some made-up anecdote that happened to someone else. I don't even know how to explain it or my distaste for it, especially because I am no slouch when it comes to long sentences and unusual writing styles. But this one just made me go nope nope nope and stare off into space on the subway when I should have been reading.
Life is too short, you guys. Right?
Although I would like to remind anyone keeping track that I don't even have a shelf for abandoned books because it happens so rarely that I don't persevere; I only have "didn't finish鈥攜et," which is where this sucker is going until some hopeful later date when I will come back to it and be thrilled instead of so bored I already fell asleep just thinking about reading one more paragraph.
I mean, it wasn't actually an accident; I just came to the unignorable conclusion after 90ish pages that opening this book had become like being in one of those dreams where every part of your body is SO HEAVY that you can't even wiggle a single toe. Every time I thought about picking this up, suddenly I was rearranging the condiments in my fridge or mindlessly scrolling through Instagrams I'd already looked at like four times.
And I can't even really explain why! Okay well actually yes, I can: the writing. Because the plot is really interesting (I think?), but he has this quicksandy style where each sentence has like 400 subclauses and is approximately three pages long, and it's not like lush descriptions that you melt into, it's these endless imagined conversations each character has with herself, sort of narrating a scene that occurred offscreen, or tootling through a remembered moment, or methodically projecting some made-up anecdote that happened to someone else. I don't even know how to explain it or my distaste for it, especially because I am no slouch when it comes to long sentences and unusual writing styles. But this one just made me go nope nope nope and stare off into space on the subway when I should have been reading.
Life is too short, you guys. Right?
Although I would like to remind anyone keeping track that I don't even have a shelf for abandoned books because it happens so rarely that I don't persevere; I only have "didn't finish鈥攜et," which is where this sucker is going until some hopeful later date when I will come back to it and be thrilled instead of so bored I already fell asleep just thinking about reading one more paragraph.
January 20, 2023
丕禺賷乇丕丕丕 禺賱氐鬲
丕爻賱賵亘 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 賵 丕賱丕胤丕賱丞 丕賱夭丕卅丿丞 賵丕賱丕毓丕丿丞 丕賱賲爻鬲賲乇丞 賱丕賷氐丕賱 丕賱賲毓賱賵賲丞 丕氐丕亘賳賶 丕丨賷丕賳丕 亘丕賱賲賱賱 賵賰孬賷乇丕 賮賰乇鬲 丕賳 丕鬲乇賰賴丕 賱賰賳 丨賷賳 賰賳鬲 丕賯乇乇 鬲乇賰賴丕 兀噩丿 噩賲賱丞 丕賵 鬲毓亘賷乇 賷毓賷丿 乇睾亘鬲賶 賮賶 丕爻鬲賰賲丕賱賴丕 貙 賮乇睾賲 亘胤卅賴丕 賱賰賳 兀毓噩亘賳賶 丕賱卮乇丨 丕賱丿賯賷賯 賱賱賲卮丕毓乇 賵丿賵丕禺賱 賵丕賮賰丕乇 丕賱卮禺氐賷丕鬲 賰丕賳 噩賲賷賱 貙 賱賰賳 廿毓丕丿丞丕賱卮乇丨 丕丨賷丕賳丕 賵丕賱丕胤丕賱丞 賰丕賳鬲 鬲賮賯丿 丕賱丕卮賷丕亍 噩賲丕賱賴丕
賮鬲丕丞 鬲毓賲賱 賮賶 丿丕乇 賳卮乇 鬲鬲氐丕丿賮 賷賵賲賷丕 賱乇丐賷丞 夭賵噩賷賳 賷鬲賳丕賵賱賵丕 丕賲丕賲賴丕 丕賱丕賮胤丕乇 賷賵賲賷丕 鬲毓噩亘賴丕 鬲氐乇賮丕鬲賴賲 賵賳馗乇丕鬲賴賲 鬲爻賲賷賴賲 賮賶 丿丕禺賱賴丕 亘丕賱夭賵噩賷賳 丕賱賰丕賲賱賷賳
賱賲 賷鬲亘丕丿賱賵丕 丕賱丨丿賷孬 賵賱賲 賷鬲亘丕丿賱賵丕 爻賵賶 丕賷賲丕亍丕鬲 丕賱鬲乇丨賷亘 賲賳 亘毓賷丿 賱賰賳賴賲 賷噩毓賱賵丕 賱賷賵賲賴丕 亘賴噩丞 賵賮噩兀丞 賷禺鬲賮賵賳 賱鬲毓乇賮 賮賷賲丕 亘毓丿 丕賳 丕賱夭賵噩 賯丿 賯鬲賱 賮賶 丨丕丿孬丞 亘卮毓丞 貙 賱鬲鬲丨丿孬 丕賱賮鬲丕丞 賲毓 丕賱夭賵噩丞 賱丕賵賱 賲乇丞 賵鬲毓乇賮 賲賳賴丕 丕賳賴賲 丕賷囟丕 賰丕賳賵丕 賷毓乇賮賵賳賴丕 賵 賰丕賳賵丕 賷胤賱賯賵賳 毓賱賷賴丕 丕爻賲 丕賱賮鬲丕丞 丕賱乇氐賷賳丞
賵鬲兀禺匕賳丕 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 賮賶 丕賱丨丿賷孬 毓賳 丕賱賲賵鬲 賵毓賳 賲卮丕毓乇 丕賱丕丨賷丕亍 亘毓丿 賵賮丕丞 丕丨亘鬲賴賲 貙 賵賴賱 丕匕丕 毓丕丿 丕賱丕賲賵丕鬲 爻賷噩丿賵賳 賲賵賯毓賴賲 賱丕賷夭丕賱 賲賵噩賵丿丕 丕賲 爻賷噩丿賵賳賴 賲卮睾賵賱丕 亘兀禺乇賷賳 責 賴賱 爻賷噩丿賵賳 丕賱鬲乇丨賷亘 丕賲 丕賱睾囟亘 賵丕賱睾賷馗 賲賳 毓賵丿鬲賴賲 .
孬賲 鬲兀禺匕 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 亘毓丿 丕賱賲賳鬲氐賮 鬲賯乇賷亘丕 亘毓囟 丕賱賲賳丨賳賷丕鬲 丕賱賲禺鬲賱賮丞 .
丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 亘賴丕 丕賱丨亘 賵丕賱禺賷丕賳丞 賵丕賱睾丿乇 貙 丕賱丨丿賷孬 毓賳 丕賱賲賵鬲 賵丕賱丨賷丕丞 貙 丕賱噩乇丕卅賲 丕賱鬲賶 賷丨丕賵賱 賲乇鬲賰亘賷賴丕 丕毓胤丕亍 丕賳賮爻賴賲 賵丕賱丌禺乇賷賳 賲亘乇乇丕鬲 賵丕賴賷丞 賵爻丕匕噩丞 貙 丕賱噩乇丕卅賲 丕賱鬲賶 賷毓丕賯亘 亘賴丕 丕賱賲噩乇賲 賱賰賳賴 賱賷爻 丕賱賵丨賷丿 丕賱賲噩乇賲 貙 賮賴賳丕賰 賲噩乇賲賷賷賳 丕禺乇賷賷賳 賲禺鬲賮賷賷賳 賱賳 賷胤賵賱賴賲 丕賱賯丕賳賵賳 賵賱賳 賷毓乇賮 亘賴賲 爻賵賶 丕賱賯賱賷賱
"廿賳賴丕 毓賲賱賷丞 賯鬲賱 賱丕 兀賰孬乇 "
伲 / 侃 / 佗贍佟侃
丕爻賱賵亘 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 賵 丕賱丕胤丕賱丞 丕賱夭丕卅丿丞 賵丕賱丕毓丕丿丞 丕賱賲爻鬲賲乇丞 賱丕賷氐丕賱 丕賱賲毓賱賵賲丞 丕氐丕亘賳賶 丕丨賷丕賳丕 亘丕賱賲賱賱 賵賰孬賷乇丕 賮賰乇鬲 丕賳 丕鬲乇賰賴丕 賱賰賳 丨賷賳 賰賳鬲 丕賯乇乇 鬲乇賰賴丕 兀噩丿 噩賲賱丞 丕賵 鬲毓亘賷乇 賷毓賷丿 乇睾亘鬲賶 賮賶 丕爻鬲賰賲丕賱賴丕 貙 賮乇睾賲 亘胤卅賴丕 賱賰賳 兀毓噩亘賳賶 丕賱卮乇丨 丕賱丿賯賷賯 賱賱賲卮丕毓乇 賵丿賵丕禺賱 賵丕賮賰丕乇 丕賱卮禺氐賷丕鬲 賰丕賳 噩賲賷賱 貙 賱賰賳 廿毓丕丿丞丕賱卮乇丨 丕丨賷丕賳丕 賵丕賱丕胤丕賱丞 賰丕賳鬲 鬲賮賯丿 丕賱丕卮賷丕亍 噩賲丕賱賴丕
賮鬲丕丞 鬲毓賲賱 賮賶 丿丕乇 賳卮乇 鬲鬲氐丕丿賮 賷賵賲賷丕 賱乇丐賷丞 夭賵噩賷賳 賷鬲賳丕賵賱賵丕 丕賲丕賲賴丕 丕賱丕賮胤丕乇 賷賵賲賷丕 鬲毓噩亘賴丕 鬲氐乇賮丕鬲賴賲 賵賳馗乇丕鬲賴賲 鬲爻賲賷賴賲 賮賶 丿丕禺賱賴丕 亘丕賱夭賵噩賷賳 丕賱賰丕賲賱賷賳
賱賲 賷鬲亘丕丿賱賵丕 丕賱丨丿賷孬 賵賱賲 賷鬲亘丕丿賱賵丕 爻賵賶 丕賷賲丕亍丕鬲 丕賱鬲乇丨賷亘 賲賳 亘毓賷丿 賱賰賳賴賲 賷噩毓賱賵丕 賱賷賵賲賴丕 亘賴噩丞 賵賮噩兀丞 賷禺鬲賮賵賳 賱鬲毓乇賮 賮賷賲丕 亘毓丿 丕賳 丕賱夭賵噩 賯丿 賯鬲賱 賮賶 丨丕丿孬丞 亘卮毓丞 貙 賱鬲鬲丨丿孬 丕賱賮鬲丕丞 賲毓 丕賱夭賵噩丞 賱丕賵賱 賲乇丞 賵鬲毓乇賮 賲賳賴丕 丕賳賴賲 丕賷囟丕 賰丕賳賵丕 賷毓乇賮賵賳賴丕 賵 賰丕賳賵丕 賷胤賱賯賵賳 毓賱賷賴丕 丕爻賲 丕賱賮鬲丕丞 丕賱乇氐賷賳丞
賵鬲兀禺匕賳丕 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 賮賶 丕賱丨丿賷孬 毓賳 丕賱賲賵鬲 賵毓賳 賲卮丕毓乇 丕賱丕丨賷丕亍 亘毓丿 賵賮丕丞 丕丨亘鬲賴賲 貙 賵賴賱 丕匕丕 毓丕丿 丕賱丕賲賵丕鬲 爻賷噩丿賵賳 賲賵賯毓賴賲 賱丕賷夭丕賱 賲賵噩賵丿丕 丕賲 爻賷噩丿賵賳賴 賲卮睾賵賱丕 亘兀禺乇賷賳 責 賴賱 爻賷噩丿賵賳 丕賱鬲乇丨賷亘 丕賲 丕賱睾囟亘 賵丕賱睾賷馗 賲賳 毓賵丿鬲賴賲 .
孬賲 鬲兀禺匕 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 亘毓丿 丕賱賲賳鬲氐賮 鬲賯乇賷亘丕 亘毓囟 丕賱賲賳丨賳賷丕鬲 丕賱賲禺鬲賱賮丞 .
丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 亘賴丕 丕賱丨亘 賵丕賱禺賷丕賳丞 賵丕賱睾丿乇 貙 丕賱丨丿賷孬 毓賳 丕賱賲賵鬲 賵丕賱丨賷丕丞 貙 丕賱噩乇丕卅賲 丕賱鬲賶 賷丨丕賵賱 賲乇鬲賰亘賷賴丕 丕毓胤丕亍 丕賳賮爻賴賲 賵丕賱丌禺乇賷賳 賲亘乇乇丕鬲 賵丕賴賷丞 賵爻丕匕噩丞 貙 丕賱噩乇丕卅賲 丕賱鬲賶 賷毓丕賯亘 亘賴丕 丕賱賲噩乇賲 賱賰賳賴 賱賷爻 丕賱賵丨賷丿 丕賱賲噩乇賲 貙 賮賴賳丕賰 賲噩乇賲賷賷賳 丕禺乇賷賷賳 賲禺鬲賮賷賷賳 賱賳 賷胤賵賱賴賲 丕賱賯丕賳賵賳 賵賱賳 賷毓乇賮 亘賴賲 爻賵賶 丕賱賯賱賷賱
"廿賳賴丕 毓賲賱賷丞 賯鬲賱 賱丕 兀賰孬乇 "
伲 / 侃 / 佗贍佟侃
September 21, 2015
Withdrawn from South Dublin Libraries - Clondalkin Branch
Translated by Margaret Jull Costa
Description: The Infatuations is a metaphysical murder mystery and a stunningly original literary achievement by Javier Mar铆as, the internationally acclaimed author of A Heart So White and Your Face Tomorrow.
Every day, Mar铆a Dolz stops for breakfast at the same caf茅. And every day she enjoys watching a handsome couple who follow the same routine. Then one day they aren't there, and she feels obscurely bereft.
It is only later, when she comes across a newspaper photograph of the man, lying stabbed in the street, his shirt half off, that she discovers who the couple are. Some time afterwards, when the woman returns to the caf茅 with her children, who are then collected by a different man, and Maria approaches her to offer her condolences, an entanglement begins which sheds new light on this apparently random, pointless death.
With The Infatuations, Javier Mar铆as brilliantly reimagines the murder novel as a metaphysical enquiry, addressing existential questions of life, death, love and morality.
The Infatuations is an extraordinary, immersive book about the terrible force of events and their consequences.
Opening: The last time I saw Miguel Desvern or Deverne was also the last time that his wife, Luisa, saw him, which seemed strange, perhaps unfair, given that she was his wife, while I, on the other hand, was a person he had never met, a woman with whom he had never exchanged so much as a single word.
The first thing I thought when I saw this cover was - "that's Fairground Attraction":
All I can find on this image is: Magnum photographer Elliot Erwitt and was taken in 1955.
Apart from the obvious Eddi Reader songs playing through my synapses, I also heard as a hattip to our narrator. And whilst I'm filching from the Fab Four, there is only one that goes with this mental tongue-twister of a discovery:
"If the real me is is this woman constantly making all these associations, things that a few months ago would have seemed to me so completely disparate and unrelated; if I am the person I've been since his death, that means that for him I was always someone else, and had he lived, I would have continued to be the person I am not, indefinitely."
You can't spoon-feed me irrationals, Marias, I will have to keep a specific lookout for where you make a point of saying, through a character, that people change with events, they drastically change after drastic events.
'Professor Rico was wearing a charming Nazi-green jacket and an ivory-coloured shirt; his nonchalantly knotted tie was a brighter, more luminous green - melon green perhaps.' hmm
If only that applied to this book! I only mean that halfway seriously because some of the musing was addictive, especially concerning Balzac and Athos.
5* Tomorrow in Battle Think on Me
3* The Infatuations
Translated by Margaret Jull Costa
Description: The Infatuations is a metaphysical murder mystery and a stunningly original literary achievement by Javier Mar铆as, the internationally acclaimed author of A Heart So White and Your Face Tomorrow.
Every day, Mar铆a Dolz stops for breakfast at the same caf茅. And every day she enjoys watching a handsome couple who follow the same routine. Then one day they aren't there, and she feels obscurely bereft.
It is only later, when she comes across a newspaper photograph of the man, lying stabbed in the street, his shirt half off, that she discovers who the couple are. Some time afterwards, when the woman returns to the caf茅 with her children, who are then collected by a different man, and Maria approaches her to offer her condolences, an entanglement begins which sheds new light on this apparently random, pointless death.
With The Infatuations, Javier Mar铆as brilliantly reimagines the murder novel as a metaphysical enquiry, addressing existential questions of life, death, love and morality.
The Infatuations is an extraordinary, immersive book about the terrible force of events and their consequences.
Opening: The last time I saw Miguel Desvern or Deverne was also the last time that his wife, Luisa, saw him, which seemed strange, perhaps unfair, given that she was his wife, while I, on the other hand, was a person he had never met, a woman with whom he had never exchanged so much as a single word.
The first thing I thought when I saw this cover was - "that's Fairground Attraction": All I can find on this image is: Magnum photographer Elliot Erwitt and was taken in 1955. Apart from the obvious Eddi Reader songs playing through my synapses, I also heard as a hattip to our narrator. And whilst I'm filching from the Fab Four, there is only one that goes with this mental tongue-twister of a discovery:
"If the real me is is this woman constantly making all these associations, things that a few months ago would have seemed to me so completely disparate and unrelated; if I am the person I've been since his death, that means that for him I was always someone else, and had he lived, I would have continued to be the person I am not, indefinitely."
You can't spoon-feed me irrationals, Marias, I will have to keep a specific lookout for where you make a point of saying, through a character, that people change with events, they drastically change after drastic events.
'Professor Rico was wearing a charming Nazi-green jacket and an ivory-coloured shirt; his nonchalantly knotted tie was a brighter, more luminous green - melon green perhaps.' hmm
If only that applied to this book! I only mean that halfway seriously because some of the musing was addictive, especially concerning Balzac and Athos. 5* Tomorrow in Battle Think on Me
3* The Infatuations
November 30, 2022
Karasevdal谋lar, Javier Marias鈥櫮眓 Yar谋nki Y眉z眉n 眉莽lemesinden sonra ve kendi deyimiyle 鈥� roman sanat谋nda- herhangi bir 艧ekilde- s枚yleyecek bir 艧eyinin kalmad谋臒谋鈥漬谋 d眉艧眉nd眉臒眉 bir d枚nemde yazd谋臒谋 ilk kitab谋. Zaten ya艧ad谋臒谋 bu 艧眉pheyi ve teredd眉t眉 kitab谋 okumaya ba艧lad谋臒谋n谋za hissediyorsunuz. Di臒er kitaplar谋ndan al谋艧t谋臒谋m谋z o ilk sayfadan okurunu ala艧a臒谋 eden klasik Marias romanlar谋n谋n a莽谋艧谋l谋ndan biraz daha farkl谋 ba艧l谋yor. Yine b眉y眉k bir gizemin pe艧inden gidece臒inizi biliyorsunuz ancak bunun do臒urdu臒u merak谋n dozu sayfalar ilerledik莽e art谋yor. Zaten Javier Marias da yaz谋m s眉reci ilerledik莽e 艧眉phelerinin hafiflemeye ba艧lad谋臒谋n谋 ve b枚ylece hikayenin 艧ekillendi臒ini belirtiyor.
Konusuna gelecek olursak, Marias鈥櫮眓 en 莽ok sevdi臒i 枚l眉m, a艧k ve insan a莽mazlar谋n谋 merkeze anlan bir hikaye okuyorsunuz. Ancak Beyaz Kalp ya da benzer alanda gezinen di臒er bir kitap olarak Yar谋n Sava艧ta Beni D眉艧眉n gibi kurgunun 枚n planda oldu臒u, gizemin pe艧inden s眉r眉klendi臒iniz kitaplardan birisi de臒il. Zira e臒er Albay Chabert鈥檌 okuduysan谋z ve o kitab谋n ad谋n谋n an谋lmaya ba艧lad谋臒谋 noktaya geldiyseniz sizin i莽in i艧in gizemi b眉y眉k 枚l莽眉de 莽枚z眉l眉yor. Lakin Marias鈥櫮眓 derdinin de bir gizemle okurun akl谋n谋 almak olmad谋臒谋 o kadar a莽谋k ki. Zira kitab谋 okuyup bitirdi臒inizde; olaylar谋 birbirine ba臒lamaktan ziyade 枚l眉m, geride kalan olma hali, cezas谋z su莽lar ve sevda ile a艧k aras谋ndaki ayr谋m 眉zerine d眉艧眉necek bir 莽ok 艧ey b谋rak谋yor size. Ben okurken sanki kurgunun arkas谋na s谋臒谋nan bir deneme kitab谋 yazmak istedi臒ini hissettim. 脟眉nk眉 Javier Marias鈥櫮眓 kulland谋臒谋 dolamba莽l谋 dilin ve uzun c眉mlelerinin a艧inas谋 olsan谋z da bu sefer diyaloglarda dahi 眉zerine d眉艧眉n眉lm眉艧- yapay g枚r眉nen bir durum oldu臒unu fark edeceksinizdir. Bir kurgu ak谋艧谋ndan ziyade bir dert anlatman谋n pe艧inde gibi. Tamamen gri bir b枚lgede, asla empati kurmak istemeyece臒ini bir durumun ortas谋ndan b眉y眉k bir sorgunun ortas谋na at谋l谋yorsunuz. Kitaba dair kafama tak谋lan tek nokta, baz谋 艧eyleri a莽谋klarken d眉艧t眉臒眉 tekrar durumu. Kitab谋n kendi i莽inde bir tekrar s枚z konusu de臒il ancak baz谋 c眉mlelere daha 枚nceden okudu臒um T眉m Ruhlar ya da Yar谋nki Y眉z眉n gibi kitaplar谋nda da rastlad谋臒谋m谋 farkettim. San谋r谋m bu da ilk ba艧ta bahsetti臒im, 艧眉phe d枚neminin etkilerinden olsa gerek. Zaten i莽 d眉nyas谋nda ya艧ad谋臒谋 bu s眉reci siz de kitab谋 okurken ad谋m ad谋m izliyorsunuz asl谋nda. Benim de - do臒al olarak- en sevdi臒im b枚l眉m Javier ile Maria鈥檔谋n kar艧谋l谋kl谋 sohbet ya da hesapla艧ma - art谋k ad谋na ne derseniz- b枚l眉m眉 oldu. Bitti臒inde empati kurmaya 莽al谋艧sam da i莽inden 莽谋kamad谋臒谋m bir a莽mazla ve 艧眉pheyle ba艧 ba艧a kald谋m. 陌nsanl谋k tarihin ve edebiyat谋n en asil duygusu olan sevdanlanma haline ayn谋 zamana insan谋 en a艧a臒谋l谋k seviyeye 莽ekebilir mi ve b眉y眉k su莽lar谋n dahi cezas谋z kalmas谋n谋 sa臒layabilir mi? Ritmi olduk莽a yava艧 olmas谋na kar艧谋n, 艧眉phenin hi莽 kaybolmad谋臒谋 bu y眉zden de gerilimi koruyan, etkileyici bir okuma oldu. Javier Marias seviyorsan谋z mutlaka okuyun ancak ilk defa tan谋艧acaksan谋z her a艧amas谋nda kendisini g枚sterdi臒i Beyaz Kalp, Ac谋 Bir Ba艧lang谋莽 Bu ya da Yar谋n Sava艧ta Beni D眉艧眉n ile ba艧laman谋z谋 tavsiye ederim.
Konusuna gelecek olursak, Marias鈥櫮眓 en 莽ok sevdi臒i 枚l眉m, a艧k ve insan a莽mazlar谋n谋 merkeze anlan bir hikaye okuyorsunuz. Ancak Beyaz Kalp ya da benzer alanda gezinen di臒er bir kitap olarak Yar谋n Sava艧ta Beni D眉艧眉n gibi kurgunun 枚n planda oldu臒u, gizemin pe艧inden s眉r眉klendi臒iniz kitaplardan birisi de臒il. Zira e臒er Albay Chabert鈥檌 okuduysan谋z ve o kitab谋n ad谋n谋n an谋lmaya ba艧lad谋臒谋 noktaya geldiyseniz sizin i莽in i艧in gizemi b眉y眉k 枚l莽眉de 莽枚z眉l眉yor. Lakin Marias鈥櫮眓 derdinin de bir gizemle okurun akl谋n谋 almak olmad谋臒谋 o kadar a莽谋k ki. Zira kitab谋 okuyup bitirdi臒inizde; olaylar谋 birbirine ba臒lamaktan ziyade 枚l眉m, geride kalan olma hali, cezas谋z su莽lar ve sevda ile a艧k aras谋ndaki ayr谋m 眉zerine d眉艧眉necek bir 莽ok 艧ey b谋rak谋yor size. Ben okurken sanki kurgunun arkas谋na s谋臒谋nan bir deneme kitab谋 yazmak istedi臒ini hissettim. 脟眉nk眉 Javier Marias鈥櫮眓 kulland谋臒谋 dolamba莽l谋 dilin ve uzun c眉mlelerinin a艧inas谋 olsan谋z da bu sefer diyaloglarda dahi 眉zerine d眉艧眉n眉lm眉艧- yapay g枚r眉nen bir durum oldu臒unu fark edeceksinizdir. Bir kurgu ak谋艧谋ndan ziyade bir dert anlatman谋n pe艧inde gibi. Tamamen gri bir b枚lgede, asla empati kurmak istemeyece臒ini bir durumun ortas谋ndan b眉y眉k bir sorgunun ortas谋na at谋l谋yorsunuz. Kitaba dair kafama tak谋lan tek nokta, baz谋 艧eyleri a莽谋klarken d眉艧t眉臒眉 tekrar durumu. Kitab谋n kendi i莽inde bir tekrar s枚z konusu de臒il ancak baz谋 c眉mlelere daha 枚nceden okudu臒um T眉m Ruhlar ya da Yar谋nki Y眉z眉n gibi kitaplar谋nda da rastlad谋臒谋m谋 farkettim. San谋r谋m bu da ilk ba艧ta bahsetti臒im, 艧眉phe d枚neminin etkilerinden olsa gerek. Zaten i莽 d眉nyas谋nda ya艧ad谋臒谋 bu s眉reci siz de kitab谋 okurken ad谋m ad谋m izliyorsunuz asl谋nda. Benim de - do臒al olarak- en sevdi臒im b枚l眉m Javier ile Maria鈥檔谋n kar艧谋l谋kl谋 sohbet ya da hesapla艧ma - art谋k ad谋na ne derseniz- b枚l眉m眉 oldu. Bitti臒inde empati kurmaya 莽al谋艧sam da i莽inden 莽谋kamad谋臒谋m bir a莽mazla ve 艧眉pheyle ba艧 ba艧a kald谋m. 陌nsanl谋k tarihin ve edebiyat谋n en asil duygusu olan sevdanlanma haline ayn谋 zamana insan谋 en a艧a臒谋l谋k seviyeye 莽ekebilir mi ve b眉y眉k su莽lar谋n dahi cezas谋z kalmas谋n谋 sa臒layabilir mi? Ritmi olduk莽a yava艧 olmas谋na kar艧谋n, 艧眉phenin hi莽 kaybolmad谋臒谋 bu y眉zden de gerilimi koruyan, etkileyici bir okuma oldu. Javier Marias seviyorsan谋z mutlaka okuyun ancak ilk defa tan谋艧acaksan谋z her a艧amas谋nda kendisini g枚sterdi臒i Beyaz Kalp, Ac谋 Bir Ba艧lang谋莽 Bu ya da Yar谋n Sava艧ta Beni D眉艧眉n ile ba艧laman谋z谋 tavsiye ederim.
June 12, 2015
Mar铆as chooses a female character, Maria, to narrate this European-style psychological thriller with a slow reveal that turns on a dime in the final chapters. Maria works in a publishing company and every day on her break from work she sees an intriguing couple, married, having coffee together. They look so happy and in love that Maria finds herself looking forward to seeing them in the coffee shop. Sometimes she overhears scraps of conversation and pieces together a life for them without them taking notice of her.
On the very first page of this novel we learn a man is murdered. It is the man of the couple Maria is so interested in. Maria tells us the last time she saw the man was the last time his own wife saw him. It didn鈥檛 seem fair, she thinks, for them to share that intimacy for she didn鈥檛 even know his name until she saw the report of his death on television.
Mar铆as, Maria: the names one suspects are intentionally close in sound and structure for it is very rare to find a character give up her thoughts so completely to an author. In this novel Mar铆as resides inside the mind of Maria, and almost everything that she thinks over a period of weeks and months is recorded here for us to consider. The world from her view gives us a distance from the victim, his wife, his friend, and the perpetrator of the crime.
This novel addresses some themes: the closeness of love and envy; our closest friends can be our greatest enemies; love and distaste; there is an uncertainty that comes with intimacy. In , Mar铆as talks about his themes, one of which is betrayal.
Mar铆as鈥� style--reflective, reflexive, recursive, chatty, digressive鈥攚ould not work if it weren鈥檛 at the same time fiercely intelligent and deeply thoughtful. He is funny, too, as though he has caught onto a joke before we had and can explain it to us. The author is like translator himself, seeking for ways to express an idea, a word, a concept. Long, long sentences and paragraphs punctuated with ellipses and em-dashes show the ongoing thoughts of the narrator and her interpretation of what she finds out when she introduces herself to the wife of the murdered man.
After listening to this novel, my first foray into Mar铆as鈥� work, I went looking for information about the author. His 欧宝娱乐 site mentions Proust, William Faulkner, and the German writer Thomas Bernhard as influences, and it is not difficult to see these influences in the ebb and flow of internal dialogue that runs alongside the action in this novel.
I listened to the audio of this title produced by Penguin Random House, translated by Margaret Jull Costa and read by Justine Eyre. The translation is extremely impressive for stream-of-consciousness writing and reading, perfectly understandable and involving. A capacious mind and a brilliant translator will keep one occupied for days.
On the very first page of this novel we learn a man is murdered. It is the man of the couple Maria is so interested in. Maria tells us the last time she saw the man was the last time his own wife saw him. It didn鈥檛 seem fair, she thinks, for them to share that intimacy for she didn鈥檛 even know his name until she saw the report of his death on television.
Mar铆as, Maria: the names one suspects are intentionally close in sound and structure for it is very rare to find a character give up her thoughts so completely to an author. In this novel Mar铆as resides inside the mind of Maria, and almost everything that she thinks over a period of weeks and months is recorded here for us to consider. The world from her view gives us a distance from the victim, his wife, his friend, and the perpetrator of the crime.
This novel addresses some themes: the closeness of love and envy; our closest friends can be our greatest enemies; love and distaste; there is an uncertainty that comes with intimacy. In , Mar铆as talks about his themes, one of which is betrayal.
Mar铆as鈥� style--reflective, reflexive, recursive, chatty, digressive鈥攚ould not work if it weren鈥檛 at the same time fiercely intelligent and deeply thoughtful. He is funny, too, as though he has caught onto a joke before we had and can explain it to us. The author is like translator himself, seeking for ways to express an idea, a word, a concept. Long, long sentences and paragraphs punctuated with ellipses and em-dashes show the ongoing thoughts of the narrator and her interpretation of what she finds out when she introduces herself to the wife of the murdered man.
After listening to this novel, my first foray into Mar铆as鈥� work, I went looking for information about the author. His 欧宝娱乐 site mentions Proust, William Faulkner, and the German writer Thomas Bernhard as influences, and it is not difficult to see these influences in the ebb and flow of internal dialogue that runs alongside the action in this novel.
I listened to the audio of this title produced by Penguin Random House, translated by Margaret Jull Costa and read by Justine Eyre. The translation is extremely impressive for stream-of-consciousness writing and reading, perfectly understandable and involving. A capacious mind and a brilliant translator will keep one occupied for days.
April 25, 2013
I know. I know you are looking at those stars and saying "Tja. Typical." But let me plead clemency by claiming somewhere between three and four and to be highly recommended by such reviews as:
;
; and
.
If even half of what is printed in the name of publishing were of the quality of Marias' prose, laments about the dearth of decent reading material would reduce exponentially. He weaves strands with an effortless dexterity and offers nuggets of wisdom about the human character as lightly as a pebble is tossed into a stream; the problem was that I expected a grander show of linguistic acrobatics. Well worth your reading time, even if this reader was left looking at the party through the window and wishing the invite had afforded entry.
;
; and
.
If even half of what is printed in the name of publishing were of the quality of Marias' prose, laments about the dearth of decent reading material would reduce exponentially. He weaves strands with an effortless dexterity and offers nuggets of wisdom about the human character as lightly as a pebble is tossed into a stream; the problem was that I expected a grander show of linguistic acrobatics. Well worth your reading time, even if this reader was left looking at the party through the window and wishing the invite had afforded entry.
September 25, 2017
2,5/5
"螠喂伪 谓慰蠀尾苇位伪 蔚委谓伪喂, 魏伪喂 蠈,蟿喂 蟽蠀渭尾伪委谓蔚喂 蟽蟿喂蟼 谓慰蠀尾苇位蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蟿伪 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻萎渭伪蟿伪 未蔚谓 苇蠂蔚喂 蟽畏渭伪蟽委伪 魏伪喂 位畏蟽渭慰谓喂苇蟿伪喂 渭蠈位喂蟼 蟿伪 蟿蔚位蔚喂蠋蟽蔚喂 魏伪谓蔚委蟼."
螖蔚 胃伪 渭蟺慰蟻慰蠉蟽伪 谓伪 蟿慰 蟺蠅 魏伪位蠉蟿蔚蟻伪 伪蟺蠈 蠈,蟿喂 慰 委未喂慰蟼 慰 螠伪蟻委伪蟼. 螤蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏维, 蟺蟻慰尾位苇蟺蠅 蠈蟿喂 渭蔚 蟿慰 蟺慰蠀 蟿蔚位蔚委蠅蟽伪 伪蠀蟿蠈 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 胃伪 蟿慰 尉蔚蠂维蟽蠅, 蔚委谓伪喂 尾苇尾伪喂慰 蠈蟿喂 畏 渭谓萎渭畏 渭慰蠀 未蔚 胃伪 蟿慰 魏伪蟿伪纬蟻维蠄蔚喂 蠅蟼 魏维蟿喂 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰谓 蠋蟽蟿蔚 谓伪 蠁蠀位维尉蔚喂 纬喂伪 伪蠀蟿蠈 魏维蟺慰喂伪 喂未喂伪委蟿蔚蟻畏 胃苇蟽畏.
螝伪蟿伪蟻蠂维蟼, 胃伪 苇蟺蟻蔚蟺蔚 谓伪 蔚委谓伪喂 蟿慰蠀位维蠂喂蟽蟿慰谓 渭喂蟽蠈 蟽蔚 苇魏蟿伪蟽畏. 韦喂蟼 蟿蔚位蔚蠀蟿伪委蔚蟼 蔚魏伪蟿蠈 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼 蟿喂蟼 未喂维尾伪蟽伪 未喂伪纬蠋谓喂伪 魏伪喂 渭蔚 伪蟻魏蔚蟿萎 未蠀蟽蠁慰蟻委伪 纬喂伪 蟿喂蟼 蟺慰位位苇蟼 蔚蟺伪谓伪位萎蠄蔚喂蟼, 蟿畏 蠁位蠀伪蟻委伪, 蟿畏谓 蟿蠈蟽畏 蠁喂位慰蟽慰蠁委伪 魏伪喂 蠄蠀蠂伪谓维位蠀蟽畏. 螘谓蠋 伪蟻蠂喂魏维 蔚委蠂蔚 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰谓 蠈位畏 伪蠀蟿萎 畏 蔚蟽蠅蟿蔚蟻喂魏萎 蔚蟺蔚尉蔚蟻纬伪蟽委伪 蟿蠅谓 蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃畏渭维蟿蠅谓 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 蠄蠀蠂喂魏蠋谓 渭蔚蟿伪蟺蟿蠋蟽蔚蠅谓, 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏伪喂 畏 伪谓维蟺蟿蠀尉畏 蟿蠅谓 胃蔚渭维蟿蠅谓 蟿慰蠀 苇蟻蠅蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟿慰蠀 胃伪谓维蟿慰蠀, 魏维蟺慰蠀 位委纬慰 苇位蔚慰蟼, 蟿蔚蟿蟻伪魏蠈蟽喂蔚蟼 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼 蔚委谓伪喂 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏维 蟺维蟻伪 蟺慰位位苇蟼 纬喂伪 谓伪 伪谓伪渭伪蟽维 蟿伪 委未喂伪 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪. 螠维位喂蟽蟿伪, 未蔚谓 渭伪蟼 位苇蔚喂 魏维蟿喂 喂未喂伪委蟿蔚蟻伪 蟺蟻蠅蟿蠈蟿蠀蟺慰 萎 谓苇慰, 魏维蟿喂 蟺慰蠀 胃伪 蔚谓蟿蠀蟺蠅蟽喂维蟽蔚喂 蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 蟿蠈蟽慰 尾伪胃喂维 蠋蟽蟿蔚 畏 蠁位蠀伪蟻委伪 谓伪 尾慰畏胃维 谓伪 "魏维蟿蟽蔚喂" 渭苇蟽伪 蟿慰蠀 畏 魏伪喂谓慰蠉蟻喂伪 喂未苇伪. 螌蠂喂, 魏伪胃蠈位慰蠀. 螒蟺位维, 魏伪胃畏渭蔚蟻喂谓维 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪 未喂伪尾维味慰蠀渭蔚, 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 蟿喂蟼 魏维谓慰蠀渭蔚 蠈位慰喂 渭伪蟼 位委纬慰 萎 蟺慰位蠉 魏伪蟿维 蟿畏 未喂维蟻魏蔚喂伪 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼 渭伪蟼. 韦喂蟼 蟺伪蟻慰蠀蟽喂维味蔚喂 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 魏伪位维 渭蔚谓, 胃伪 渭蟺慰蟻慰蠉蟽蔚 魏伪喂 渭蔚 蟺慰位蠉 位喂纬蠈蟿蔚蟻蔚蟼 位苇尉蔚喂蟼 未蔚, 蠋蟽蟿蔚 谓伪 渭畏谓 魏慰蠀蟻维味蔚喂 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 蟿蠈蟽畏 蔚蟺伪谓维位畏蠄畏. 螤喂蟽蟿蔚蠉蠅 蠈蟿喂 蠅蟼 谓慰蠀尾苇位伪 胃伪 萎蟿伪谓 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 蟺喂慰 渭蔚蟽蟿蠈 魏伪喂 未蔚渭苇谓慰, 蠅蟼 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿蠈蟻畏渭伪 蠈渭蠅蟼 萎蟿伪谓 蟽伪 渭喂蟽慰蠁慰蠀蟽魏蠅渭苇谓慰 胃伪位维蟽蟽喂慰 蟽蟿蟻蠋渭伪.
"螠喂伪 谓慰蠀尾苇位伪 蔚委谓伪喂, 魏伪喂 蠈,蟿喂 蟽蠀渭尾伪委谓蔚喂 蟽蟿喂蟼 谓慰蠀尾苇位蔚蟼 魏伪喂 蟽蟿伪 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿慰蟻萎渭伪蟿伪 未蔚谓 苇蠂蔚喂 蟽畏渭伪蟽委伪 魏伪喂 位畏蟽渭慰谓喂苇蟿伪喂 渭蠈位喂蟼 蟿伪 蟿蔚位蔚喂蠋蟽蔚喂 魏伪谓蔚委蟼."
螖蔚 胃伪 渭蟺慰蟻慰蠉蟽伪 谓伪 蟿慰 蟺蠅 魏伪位蠉蟿蔚蟻伪 伪蟺蠈 蠈,蟿喂 慰 委未喂慰蟼 慰 螠伪蟻委伪蟼. 螤蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏维, 蟺蟻慰尾位苇蟺蠅 蠈蟿喂 渭蔚 蟿慰 蟺慰蠀 蟿蔚位蔚委蠅蟽伪 伪蠀蟿蠈 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 胃伪 蟿慰 尉蔚蠂维蟽蠅, 蔚委谓伪喂 尾苇尾伪喂慰 蠈蟿喂 畏 渭谓萎渭畏 渭慰蠀 未蔚 胃伪 蟿慰 魏伪蟿伪纬蟻维蠄蔚喂 蠅蟼 魏维蟿喂 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰谓 蠋蟽蟿蔚 谓伪 蠁蠀位维尉蔚喂 纬喂伪 伪蠀蟿蠈 魏维蟺慰喂伪 喂未喂伪委蟿蔚蟻畏 胃苇蟽畏.
螝伪蟿伪蟻蠂维蟼, 胃伪 苇蟺蟻蔚蟺蔚 谓伪 蔚委谓伪喂 蟿慰蠀位维蠂喂蟽蟿慰谓 渭喂蟽蠈 蟽蔚 苇魏蟿伪蟽畏. 韦喂蟼 蟿蔚位蔚蠀蟿伪委蔚蟼 蔚魏伪蟿蠈 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼 蟿喂蟼 未喂维尾伪蟽伪 未喂伪纬蠋谓喂伪 魏伪喂 渭蔚 伪蟻魏蔚蟿萎 未蠀蟽蠁慰蟻委伪 纬喂伪 蟿喂蟼 蟺慰位位苇蟼 蔚蟺伪谓伪位萎蠄蔚喂蟼, 蟿畏 蠁位蠀伪蟻委伪, 蟿畏谓 蟿蠈蟽畏 蠁喂位慰蟽慰蠁委伪 魏伪喂 蠄蠀蠂伪谓维位蠀蟽畏. 螘谓蠋 伪蟻蠂喂魏维 蔚委蠂蔚 蔚谓未喂伪蠁苇蟻慰谓 蠈位畏 伪蠀蟿萎 畏 蔚蟽蠅蟿蔚蟻喂魏萎 蔚蟺蔚尉蔚蟻纬伪蟽委伪 蟿蠅谓 蟽蠀谓伪喂蟽胃畏渭维蟿蠅谓 魏伪喂 蟿蠅谓 蠄蠀蠂喂魏蠋谓 渭蔚蟿伪蟺蟿蠋蟽蔚蠅谓, 魏伪胃蠋蟼 魏伪喂 畏 伪谓维蟺蟿蠀尉畏 蟿蠅谓 胃蔚渭维蟿蠅谓 蟿慰蠀 苇蟻蠅蟿伪 魏伪喂 蟿慰蠀 胃伪谓维蟿慰蠀, 魏维蟺慰蠀 位委纬慰 苇位蔚慰蟼, 蟿蔚蟿蟻伪魏蠈蟽喂蔚蟼 蟽蔚位委未蔚蟼 蔚委谓伪喂 蟺蟻伪纬渭伪蟿喂魏维 蟺维蟻伪 蟺慰位位苇蟼 纬喂伪 谓伪 伪谓伪渭伪蟽维 蟿伪 委未喂伪 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪. 螠维位喂蟽蟿伪, 未蔚谓 渭伪蟼 位苇蔚喂 魏维蟿喂 喂未喂伪委蟿蔚蟻伪 蟺蟻蠅蟿蠈蟿蠀蟺慰 萎 谓苇慰, 魏维蟿喂 蟺慰蠀 胃伪 蔚谓蟿蠀蟺蠅蟽喂维蟽蔚喂 蟿慰谓 伪谓伪纬谓蠋蟽蟿畏 蟿蠈蟽慰 尾伪胃喂维 蠋蟽蟿蔚 畏 蠁位蠀伪蟻委伪 谓伪 尾慰畏胃维 谓伪 "魏维蟿蟽蔚喂" 渭苇蟽伪 蟿慰蠀 畏 魏伪喂谓慰蠉蟻喂伪 喂未苇伪. 螌蠂喂, 魏伪胃蠈位慰蠀. 螒蟺位维, 魏伪胃畏渭蔚蟻喂谓维 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪 未喂伪尾维味慰蠀渭蔚, 蟽魏苇蠄蔚喂蟼 蟺慰蠀 蟿喂蟼 魏维谓慰蠀渭蔚 蠈位慰喂 渭伪蟼 位委纬慰 萎 蟺慰位蠉 魏伪蟿维 蟿畏 未喂维蟻魏蔚喂伪 蟿畏蟼 味蠅萎蟼 渭伪蟼. 韦喂蟼 蟺伪蟻慰蠀蟽喂维味蔚喂 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 魏伪位维 渭蔚谓, 胃伪 渭蟺慰蟻慰蠉蟽蔚 魏伪喂 渭蔚 蟺慰位蠉 位喂纬蠈蟿蔚蟻蔚蟼 位苇尉蔚喂蟼 未蔚, 蠋蟽蟿蔚 谓伪 渭畏谓 魏慰蠀蟻维味蔚喂 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 蟿蠈蟽畏 蔚蟺伪谓维位畏蠄畏. 螤喂蟽蟿蔚蠉蠅 蠈蟿喂 蠅蟼 谓慰蠀尾苇位伪 胃伪 萎蟿伪谓 伪蟻魏蔚蟿维 蟺喂慰 渭蔚蟽蟿蠈 魏伪喂 未蔚渭苇谓慰, 蠅蟼 渭蠀胃喂蟽蟿蠈蟻畏渭伪 蠈渭蠅蟼 萎蟿伪谓 蟽伪 渭喂蟽慰蠁慰蠀蟽魏蠅渭苇谓慰 胃伪位维蟽蟽喂慰 蟽蟿蟻蠋渭伪.
March 30, 2017
脟a臒da艧 陌spanyol yazar Javier Marias'tan okudu臒um ilk kitap oldu bu roman. Derin, felsefi bir a艧k ve cinayet roman谋. Asl谋nda bu tan谋m da kitab谋n tam hakk谋n谋 vermiyor. M眉thi艧 bir tempoda ba艧l谋yor, okuyan谋 i莽ine 莽ekiyor ve daha sonra farkl谋 katmanlar i莽inde ya艧am谋n ve 枚l眉m眉n anlam谋, 枚lenin ard谋nda kalanlar谋n ya艧am tercihleri, duygusal ili艧kilerdeki e艧itsizlikler, i艧lenen su莽lar谋n nas谋l has谋ralt谋 edilebildi臒i veya hakl谋 g枚sterilebildi臒i gibi kavramlar 眉zerine d眉艧眉nd眉r眉yor. 脟arp谋c谋 da bir finali var. Bazen ger莽ekleri fazla de艧memenin hayat谋 kolayla艧t谋rabilece臒i, mutluluk getirebilece臒i gibi tart谋艧mal谋 bir temay谋 okuyanlar谋n de臒erlendirmesine sunuyor.
Ustaca i艧lenen olay 枚rg眉s眉 ve karakterleri (yan karakterlerden karanl谋k, kart ama sevimli zampara Ruiberriz de unutulacak gibi de臒il), zaman zaman bir felsefe eseri okudu臒unuzu hissetiren y枚nleri - ki bu bak谋mdan 枚zellikle anlat谋c谋 Maria'n谋n baz谋 ifadeleri pedantik veya fazla iddial谋 oldu臒u gerek莽esiyle ele艧tirilebilir de - ve g眉莽l眉 眉slubuyla 枚nemli bir roman. Romanda epey tart谋艧谋lan Balzac'谋n novellas谋 Albay Chabert'i de bir g眉n okumak laz谋m diyerek bitireyim.
Ustaca i艧lenen olay 枚rg眉s眉 ve karakterleri (yan karakterlerden karanl谋k, kart ama sevimli zampara Ruiberriz de unutulacak gibi de臒il), zaman zaman bir felsefe eseri okudu臒unuzu hissetiren y枚nleri - ki bu bak谋mdan 枚zellikle anlat谋c谋 Maria'n谋n baz谋 ifadeleri pedantik veya fazla iddial谋 oldu臒u gerek莽esiyle ele艧tirilebilir de - ve g眉莽l眉 眉slubuyla 枚nemli bir roman. Romanda epey tart谋艧谋lan Balzac'谋n novellas谋 Albay Chabert'i de bir g眉n okumak laz谋m diyerek bitireyim.
August 20, 2017
kemal sunal'谋n korkusuz korkak 莽ocuklu臒umun en sevdi臒im filmlerinden biridir. o konuyu al谋p b枚ylesi bir roman haline getirmek ise i艧te edebiyat谋n b眉y眉s眉 oluyor.
a艧k'la sevda'n谋n fark谋n谋n bu denli derin irdelendi臒i, upuzun konu艧ma ve d眉艧眉nme c眉mleleriyle yaz谋lm谋艧 -莽eviri 莽ok iyi- bir kara roman.
balzac'谋n albay chabert'i ve dumas'n谋n 眉莽 silah艧枚rler'ini okuma iste臒i uyand谋racak denli kusursuz g枚ndermeleriyle, 枚l眉 kimdir, 枚len ya da arkada kalan m谋d谋r as谋l ma臒dur sorular谋yla bitirilen bir roman...
ve ayr谋ca kahraman bir yay谋nevinde edit枚r oldu臒u i莽in bahsi geldi, galiba t眉m d眉nyada bir gen莽 yazar f眉tursuzlu臒u, ukalal谋臒谋, ya艧l谋 yazar 莽ekilmezli臒i var :)
a艧k'la sevda'n谋n fark谋n谋n bu denli derin irdelendi臒i, upuzun konu艧ma ve d眉艧眉nme c眉mleleriyle yaz谋lm谋艧 -莽eviri 莽ok iyi- bir kara roman.
balzac'谋n albay chabert'i ve dumas'n谋n 眉莽 silah艧枚rler'ini okuma iste臒i uyand谋racak denli kusursuz g枚ndermeleriyle, 枚l眉 kimdir, 枚len ya da arkada kalan m谋d谋r as谋l ma臒dur sorular谋yla bitirilen bir roman...
ve ayr谋ca kahraman bir yay谋nevinde edit枚r oldu臒u i莽in bahsi geldi, galiba t眉m d眉nyada bir gen莽 yazar f眉tursuzlu臒u, ukalal谋臒谋, ya艧l谋 yazar 莽ekilmezli臒i var :)
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 30, 2012
Javier Mar铆as tiene un estilo muy particular. Tengo la suerte de conectar perfectamente con 茅l, y la lectura de sus obras se me hace rapid铆sima e interesante. Conozco a gente que nunca ha podido acabar un libro suyo. Como siempre, al hilo de una historia, Mar铆as aprovecha para la reflexi贸n y analiza aspectos cotidianos de la vida que me hacen decir constantemente "eso ya lo hab铆a pensado yo". Sus reflexiones, su l贸gica, se parecen tanto a la m铆a, que me parece estar escuchando mi propio pensamiento.
La trama, como es habitual en las novelas suyas que he le铆do, es simple pero jugosa. No hay mucha acci贸n, pero los pensamientos de los personajes llenan el relato. Siempre he pensado que no se podr铆a adaptar una novela de Mar铆as al cine, se perder铆a toda su riqueza.
A quien est茅 pensando en leerlo, recomiendo que lo intente con las 50 primeras p谩ginas. Si se le hace arduo o no llega a entrar en la reflexi贸n, que lo deje, porque no habr谩 captado el comp谩s del autor.
La trama, como es habitual en las novelas suyas que he le铆do, es simple pero jugosa. No hay mucha acci贸n, pero los pensamientos de los personajes llenan el relato. Siempre he pensado que no se podr铆a adaptar una novela de Mar铆as al cine, se perder铆a toda su riqueza.
A quien est茅 pensando en leerlo, recomiendo que lo intente con las 50 primeras p谩ginas. Si se le hace arduo o no llega a entrar en la reflexi贸n, que lo deje, porque no habr谩 captado el comp谩s del autor.
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