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兀氐丿賯丕卅賷
丕賱賳丕卮乇
芦賰賲 鬲乇賴賯賳賷 丕賱賵丨丿丞. 兀丨亘 兀賳 賷賰賵賳 毓賳丿賷 氐丿賷賯貙 氐丿賷賯 丨賯賷賯賷貙 兀賵 丨亘賷亘丞 兀亘孬賾賴丕 丌賱丕賲賷. 丨賷賳 兀鬲爻賰毓 賰丕賲賱 丕賱賷賵賲貙 賮賷 氐賲鬲貙 毓賳丿 丕賱賲爻丕亍 賮賷 睾乇賮鬲賷貙 兀卮毓乇 廿賳賳賷 賲噩賴丿. 爻兀賯鬲爻賲 賰賱 賲丕 兀賲賱賰賴: 賲丕賱 賲賳丨鬲賷貙 爻乇賷乇賷 賲賳 兀噩賱 毓丕胤賮丞 賯賱賷賱丞. 爻兀賰賵賳 賳丕毓賲丕 噩丿丕 賲毓 丕賱卮禺氐 丕賱匕賷 賷賲賳丨賳賷 氐丿丕賯鬲賴 亘賰賱 孬賯丞. 賱賳 兀毓丕乇囟賴 廿胤賱丕賯丕. 爻鬲賰賵賳 賰賱賾 乇睾亘丕鬲賴 賴賷 賳賮爻 乇睾亘丕鬲賷. 爻賵賮 兀鬲亘毓賴 丨賷孬 賷賲囟賷 賲孬賱 賰賱亘. 賱賷爻 毓賱賷賴 廿賱丕 兀賳 賷賯賵賱 胤乇賮丞 賱兀賳賮噩乇 囟丕丨賰丕貨 賵爻賵賮 兀亘賰賷 丨賷賳 兀乇丕賴 丨夭賷賳丕禄.
丕賱亘丨孬 毓賳 氐丿賷賯貙 賴匕丕 賴賵 丕賱卮睾賱 丕賱卮丕睾賱 賱賮賷賰鬲賵乇 亘丕胤賵賳貙 賱丕 賷賮毓賱 兀賷 卮賷亍 賮賷 丨賷丕鬲賴 爻賵賶 丕賱亘丨孬 毓賳 氐丿賷賯 賱賴貙 賷禺乇噩 賲賳 睾乇賮鬲賴 賰賱 氐亘丕丨 賵賴賵 賷購賲賳賽賾賷 賳賮爻賴 亘丕賱毓孬賵乇 毓賳 氐丿賷賯.... 賮賴賱 爻賷噩丿 賴匕丕 丕賱氐丿賷賯責 賷鬲賳丕賵賱購 廿賷賲丕賳賵賷賱 亘賵賮 賲爻兀賱丞 丕賱賵丨丿丞 賵丕賱噩乇丕丨賽 丕賱鬲賷 鬲賲夭賾賯 丕賱乇賾賵丨 丕賱廿賳爻丕賳賷丞 亘兀爻賱賵亘賺 乇賵丕卅賷賺賾 賮乇賷丿貙 噩毓賱 丕爻賲賴購 賷購丿賵賾賳 亘丨乇賵賮 賲賳 匕賴亘賺 囟賲賳 毓賱丕賲丕鬲 丕賱兀丿亘賽 丕賱賮乇賳爻賷 賮賷 丕賱賯乇賳 丕賱毓卮乇賷賳.
芦賰賲 鬲乇賴賯賳賷 丕賱賵丨丿丞. 兀丨亘 兀賳 賷賰賵賳 毓賳丿賷 氐丿賷賯貙 氐丿賷賯 丨賯賷賯賷貙 兀賵 丨亘賷亘丞 兀亘孬賾賴丕 丌賱丕賲賷. 丨賷賳 兀鬲爻賰毓 賰丕賲賱 丕賱賷賵賲貙 賮賷 氐賲鬲貙 毓賳丿 丕賱賲爻丕亍 賮賷 睾乇賮鬲賷貙 兀卮毓乇 廿賳賳賷 賲噩賴丿. 爻兀賯鬲爻賲 賰賱 賲丕 兀賲賱賰賴: 賲丕賱 賲賳丨鬲賷貙 爻乇賷乇賷 賲賳 兀噩賱 毓丕胤賮丞 賯賱賷賱丞. 爻兀賰賵賳 賳丕毓賲丕 噩丿丕 賲毓 丕賱卮禺氐 丕賱匕賷 賷賲賳丨賳賷 氐丿丕賯鬲賴 亘賰賱 孬賯丞. 賱賳 兀毓丕乇囟賴 廿胤賱丕賯丕. 爻鬲賰賵賳 賰賱賾 乇睾亘丕鬲賴 賴賷 賳賮爻 乇睾亘丕鬲賷. 爻賵賮 兀鬲亘毓賴 丨賷孬 賷賲囟賷 賲孬賱 賰賱亘. 賱賷爻 毓賱賷賴 廿賱丕 兀賳 賷賯賵賱 胤乇賮丞 賱兀賳賮噩乇 囟丕丨賰丕貨 賵爻賵賮 兀亘賰賷 丨賷賳 兀乇丕賴 丨夭賷賳丕禄.
丕賱亘丨孬 毓賳 氐丿賷賯貙 賴匕丕 賴賵 丕賱卮睾賱 丕賱卮丕睾賱 賱賮賷賰鬲賵乇 亘丕胤賵賳貙 賱丕 賷賮毓賱 兀賷 卮賷亍 賮賷 丨賷丕鬲賴 爻賵賶 丕賱亘丨孬 毓賳 氐丿賷賯 賱賴貙 賷禺乇噩 賲賳 睾乇賮鬲賴 賰賱 氐亘丕丨 賵賴賵 賷購賲賳賽賾賷 賳賮爻賴 亘丕賱毓孬賵乇 毓賳 氐丿賷賯.... 賮賴賱 爻賷噩丿 賴匕丕 丕賱氐丿賷賯責 賷鬲賳丕賵賱購 廿賷賲丕賳賵賷賱 亘賵賮 賲爻兀賱丞 丕賱賵丨丿丞 賵丕賱噩乇丕丨賽 丕賱鬲賷 鬲賲夭賾賯 丕賱乇賾賵丨 丕賱廿賳爻丕賳賷丞 亘兀爻賱賵亘賺 乇賵丕卅賷賺賾 賮乇賷丿貙 噩毓賱 丕爻賲賴購 賷購丿賵賾賳 亘丨乇賵賮 賲賳 匕賴亘賺 囟賲賳 毓賱丕賲丕鬲 丕賱兀丿亘賽 丕賱賮乇賳爻賷 賮賷 丕賱賯乇賳 丕賱毓卮乇賷賳.
174 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1924
41 people are currently reading
3549 people want to read
About the author
Emmanuel Bove
81听books80听followersEmmanuel Bove, born in Paris as Emmanuel Bobovnikoff in 1898, died in his native city on Friday 13 July 1945, the night on which all of France prepared for the large-scale celebration of the first 'quatorze juillet' since World War II. He would probably have taken no part in the festivities. Bove was known as a man of few words, a shy and discreet observer. His novels and novellas were populated by awkward figures, 'losers' who were always penniless. In their banal environments, they were resigned to their hopeless fate. Bove's airy style and the humorous observations made sure that his distressing tales were modernist besides being depressing: not the style, but the themes matched the post-war atmosphere precisely.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 259 reviews
October 6, 2024
Emmanuel Bove wrote in his own idiosyncratic style. Short sharp sentences of My Friends convey to the narration a photographical precision鈥�
The hero, Victor B芒ton is a very lonely man who doesn鈥檛 work and has no friends鈥� He is a pitiful nonentity whose main ambition is to find a friend so he wishes to see a friend in any person he meets. He is a primitive and hopeless dreamer鈥�
Those are the dreams:
And this is reality:
The penury is formidable and living imaginary life full of ludicrous ambitions, the protagonist resembles an unfeathered peacock鈥�
And the narration is laden equally with wicked sarcasm and bitter sadness.
鈥淪olitude, what a sad and beautiful thing it is! How beautiful when we choose it! How sad when it is forced upon us year after year!鈥�
The ultimate loneliness inevitably becomes a tragedy.
The hero, Victor B芒ton is a very lonely man who doesn鈥檛 work and has no friends鈥� He is a pitiful nonentity whose main ambition is to find a friend so he wishes to see a friend in any person he meets. He is a primitive and hopeless dreamer鈥�
Those are the dreams:
Oh, how I should love to be rich!
Everyone would admire the fur collar of my overcoat, especially in the suburbs. My jacket would be open. A gold chain would hang across my waistcoat; my purse would be attached to my braces by a silver chain. I should carry my wallet in my revolver pocket, as Americans do. I should have to make an elegant gesture in order to look at the time on my wrist-watch. I should put my hands in my jacket pockets, with the thumbs outside, and not, like the nouveaux riches, in the arm-holes of my waistcoat.
I should have a mistress, an actress.
We should go, she and I, to have an ap茅ritif on the terrace of the largest caf茅 in Paris. The waiter would roll away the pedestal tables like barrels to make way for us. Ice-cubes would float in our glasses. The cane of the chairs would not be coming to bits.
We should have dinner in a restaurant where there were table-cloths and flowers elegantly arranged.
And this is reality:
Lucie has a beer-drinker's figure. An aluminium ring 鈥� a souvenir of her husband who died at the front 鈥� decorates the index finger of her right hand. Her ears are flabby. Her shoes have no heels. She keeps blowing at the wisps of hair which have escaped from her bun. When she bends over, her skirt splits open at the back like a chestnut. Her pupils are not in the middle of her eyes; they are too high up, like those of alcoholics.
The room smells of empty barrels, rats and slops. Above the gas-mantle there is an asbestos fan which does not turn. In the evening the gas-lamp throws its light right under the tables. A notice 鈥� Regulations on the Control of Drunkenness 鈥� is nailed to the wall, where it can be seen clearly. A few pages are sticking out of the printed slab of a street-directory. A stained mirror, scratched on the back, decorates the partition wall.
The penury is formidable and living imaginary life full of ludicrous ambitions, the protagonist resembles an unfeathered peacock鈥�
And the narration is laden equally with wicked sarcasm and bitter sadness.
鈥淪olitude, what a sad and beautiful thing it is! How beautiful when we choose it! How sad when it is forced upon us year after year!鈥�
The ultimate loneliness inevitably becomes a tragedy.
September 11, 2024
The warm blanket of self-pity
This book surged up the lyrics of a couple of songs I remember from student鈥檚 days - 鈥� but also .
What to think about Emmanuel Bove鈥檚 anti-hero, monsieur Victor B芒ton? He surely is in a miserable place- lonely, poor, living in a tiny, damp, cold room in Paris, a war invalid with a paltry pension, not having a single friend to turn to. Initially, it feels only natural to follow his yearning and search for company, a friend, even love with sympathy.
However, as much as the reader might be willing and able to commiserate and empathize with him, Victor B芒ton doesn鈥檛 make such precisely easy. To put it euphemistically, he is not very likeable...
While B芒ton is professing his own modesty and humbleness, he is pretty demanding and fickle, veering from ludicrous overblown self-humiliation to repulsive haughtiness, ill-treating who shows some concern with his plight. His ideal friends must meet extremely high standards and cover him with flowers and generosity 鈥� and for sure not be too happy themselves. In his relations with the ordinary mortals he meets instead, these standards of course don鈥檛 apply to himself. He rejoices in the misfortune of others. At least he is reliable in his unreliability. Sure, he encounters animosity, disdain and even aversion. There are quite a few names to categorize him, none of them flattering. Deadbeat. Scoundrel. Sponge. Loafer. But things being as they are, what can a man like him, a man without qualities but full of contrasts and quirks, signify for other people? He rightly notes that his behaviour and presence grates others:
In that house full of working people, I was the madman that, deep down, everyone wanted to be. I was the one who went without food, the cinema, warm clothes, to be free. I was the one who, without meaning to, daily reminded people of their wretched state.
As soon as he finds what he is ostensibly looking for - kindness, generosity, a job offer, love 鈥� he runs away. Out of fear? Or are there other motives, something in his personality which make him prefer his little warm blanket of self-pity to the honest concern of real human beings? While he seems naive, his mistrust of others is that profound that he prefers to wallow in his misery, as if happiness, joy or good fortune would dissolve his identity:
Instead of pulling myself together, I tried to prolong my misery. I withdrew into myself, making myself more insignificant and wretched than I really am. In that way I found some comfort in my sorrows.
Nonetheless, this is not a depressing book. The tone of it is so light and almost cheerful B芒ton鈥檚 pointy observations and self-reflections often put a smile on my face. Bove holds a mirror, showing the all too human flaw of the oversensitivity of the ego which so often goes together with uncaring or callous treatment of others. In that respect, it makes sense that Victor B芒ton is frequently looking in the mirror 鈥� even if he is unconscious his own narcissism.
Emmanuel Bove (1898-1945), n茅 Bobovnikoff) has been put on the same line as Dostoevsky and Proust and was admired by Beckett, Rilke, Soupault, and Gide. If it wasn鈥檛 for GR, I presumably would have never heard about him. 鈥楳y friends鈥� was his debut and apparently Rilke was so enthusiast about it he wanted to meet Bove (in the beginning, before taking on a more deadpan tone, B芒ton鈥檚 Parisians street impressions and wanderings echo ). Even if My friends is considered his masterpiece and Bove鈥檚 tone and terse style suit the story and the idiosyncratic personality of Victor B芒ton wonderfully, (the first novel I read by Emmanuel Bove) resonated more with me 鈥� possibly because it was easier to relate to that other forlorn anti-hero Charles Bernestau.
This book surged up the lyrics of a couple of songs I remember from student鈥檚 days - 鈥� but also .
What to think about Emmanuel Bove鈥檚 anti-hero, monsieur Victor B芒ton? He surely is in a miserable place- lonely, poor, living in a tiny, damp, cold room in Paris, a war invalid with a paltry pension, not having a single friend to turn to. Initially, it feels only natural to follow his yearning and search for company, a friend, even love with sympathy.
However, as much as the reader might be willing and able to commiserate and empathize with him, Victor B芒ton doesn鈥檛 make such precisely easy. To put it euphemistically, he is not very likeable...
While B芒ton is professing his own modesty and humbleness, he is pretty demanding and fickle, veering from ludicrous overblown self-humiliation to repulsive haughtiness, ill-treating who shows some concern with his plight. His ideal friends must meet extremely high standards and cover him with flowers and generosity 鈥� and for sure not be too happy themselves. In his relations with the ordinary mortals he meets instead, these standards of course don鈥檛 apply to himself. He rejoices in the misfortune of others. At least he is reliable in his unreliability. Sure, he encounters animosity, disdain and even aversion. There are quite a few names to categorize him, none of them flattering. Deadbeat. Scoundrel. Sponge. Loafer. But things being as they are, what can a man like him, a man without qualities but full of contrasts and quirks, signify for other people? He rightly notes that his behaviour and presence grates others:
In that house full of working people, I was the madman that, deep down, everyone wanted to be. I was the one who went without food, the cinema, warm clothes, to be free. I was the one who, without meaning to, daily reminded people of their wretched state.
As soon as he finds what he is ostensibly looking for - kindness, generosity, a job offer, love 鈥� he runs away. Out of fear? Or are there other motives, something in his personality which make him prefer his little warm blanket of self-pity to the honest concern of real human beings? While he seems naive, his mistrust of others is that profound that he prefers to wallow in his misery, as if happiness, joy or good fortune would dissolve his identity:
Instead of pulling myself together, I tried to prolong my misery. I withdrew into myself, making myself more insignificant and wretched than I really am. In that way I found some comfort in my sorrows.
Nonetheless, this is not a depressing book. The tone of it is so light and almost cheerful B芒ton鈥檚 pointy observations and self-reflections often put a smile on my face. Bove holds a mirror, showing the all too human flaw of the oversensitivity of the ego which so often goes together with uncaring or callous treatment of others. In that respect, it makes sense that Victor B芒ton is frequently looking in the mirror 鈥� even if he is unconscious his own narcissism.
Emmanuel Bove (1898-1945), n茅 Bobovnikoff) has been put on the same line as Dostoevsky and Proust and was admired by Beckett, Rilke, Soupault, and Gide. If it wasn鈥檛 for GR, I presumably would have never heard about him. 鈥楳y friends鈥� was his debut and apparently Rilke was so enthusiast about it he wanted to meet Bove (in the beginning, before taking on a more deadpan tone, B芒ton鈥檚 Parisians street impressions and wanderings echo ). Even if My friends is considered his masterpiece and Bove鈥檚 tone and terse style suit the story and the idiosyncratic personality of Victor B芒ton wonderfully, (the first novel I read by Emmanuel Bove) resonated more with me 鈥� possibly because it was easier to relate to that other forlorn anti-hero Charles Bernestau.
July 13, 2022
Tras permanecer unos d铆as al calor de Proust, enredado en sus laber铆nticas frases y envuelto en la m煤sicalidad de su prosa, leyendo sobre personas ociosas y odiosas entregadas a una ch谩chara interminable cuando no al chismorreo hiriente, leer a Bove es todo un refrescante ba帽o de agua fr铆a con brillantes pedacitos de hielo flotando a mi alrededor: frases cortas, p谩rrafos breves, pensamientos simples, sujeto, verbo y predicado, un detalle preciso suple toda una farragosa descripci贸n... Bove es un autor que, como bellamente dijo de 茅l Maurice Betz, "hab铆a despojado a las frases de su elegancia, ese espejismo, de su melod铆a, ese canto de sirenas". Su literatura es sugerente, como esos ejercicios infantiles en los que una figura surge al unir los puntos pero en la que se nos hurta la enumeraci贸n, quedando para el lector la elecci贸n del orden de ligaz贸n y, por tanto, el resultado de la imagen resultante.
芦Una nube ocult贸 el sol. La calle templada se volvi贸 gris. Las moscas dejaron de brillar. Me sent铆 triste. Acababa de salir hacia lo desconocido con la ilusi贸n de ser un vagabundo, libre y feliz. Y ahora, por culpa de una nube, se hab铆a echado todo a perder.禄En mi caso, de esa uni贸n de puntos sali贸 un personaje, B芒ton (palo en franc茅s), con la apariencia de un desagradable Buster-cara de palo-Keaton, un hombre fr谩gil y triste, con un semblante p谩lido que enfrenta las desgracias y los desprecios que su hipersensibilidad construye con una absoluta falta de expresividad en el rostro y una dolorosa quemaz贸n en su interior, que sale de su s贸rdida habitaci贸n, llena de humedades y muebles viejos y desvencijados, con la esperanza siempre puesta en un acontecimiento capaz de cambiar su vida por completo. B芒ton llora en la soledad hasta darse cuenta de que est谩 forzando el llanto, no soporta que lo observen aunque gusta de verse reflejado en los cristales de los escaparates, se tiene por buena persona pero no puede evitar que su buen coraz贸n pierda siempre la batalla ante su feroz ego铆smo, ante sus continuas neurosis y paranoias. B芒ton es un ser patol贸gicamente t铆mido, que siempre prefiere soportar una molestia a provocarla, que vaya donde vaya necesita sentarse en el mismo sitio, inc贸modo ante las miradas ajenas, alerta ante cualquier gesto o comentario que siempre piensa que le van a 茅l dirigidos, encerrado en s铆 mismo por mucho que lo que m谩s desee sea abrirse a alguien.
芦A cambio de un poco de afecto, compartir铆a todo lo que poseo: el dinero de mi pensi贸n, mi cama. Ser铆a muy cari帽oso con la persona que me ofreciera su amistad. No la contradir铆a nunca. Sus deseos ser铆an los m铆os. Como un perro la seguir铆a a todas partes. No tendr铆a m谩s que decir una gracia, y yo me reir铆a; cuando estuviera triste yo llorar铆a con ella.禄No es f谩cil que te caiga bien este V铆ctor B茫ton que requiere gratitud antes sus actos de bondad, que exige reconocimiento por su participaci贸n en la guerra, por su brazo tullido, que se siente superior a sus convecinos que han dilapidado su libertad en aras de un trabajo y de unas m铆seras comodidades, que cree que toda mujer que posa en 茅l su mirada se enamora, y la persigue y acosa, pero que, sin embargo, descarta que nadie que sea feliz pueda interesarse por 茅l. Un ser extra帽o que de todo se lamenta, que se esfuerza por estar triste, que huye de la 煤nica mujer que inopinadamente le hace caso, que prefiere provocar la culpa y el remordimiento en aquellos con los que se cruza antes que sentir su indiferencia.
芦Inspirar compasi贸n a menudo me gusta. En cuanto un paseante se aproximaba, ocultaba el rostro entre las manos y aspiraba por la nariz como cuando uno ha llorado. La gente, mientras se alejaba, volv铆a la cabeza.禄Una l谩stima que V铆ctor B茫ton seguramente no supo nunca cu谩ntos lectores encontr贸 al fin dispuestos a escucharle gracias al buen hacer de Emmanuel Bove, un autor al que hay que leer, h谩ganme caso. Una recomendaci贸n v谩lida para todo el mundo pero especialmente dedicada a aquellos adoradores de Camus o Beckett.
April 1, 2020
Have short, sober first-person sentences ever been as affecting as this?
What a sad, funny, harsh, stripped-down, wholly engaging little novel this was!
Swinging back and forth between irresolute optimism, withered expectations, and a bleak mistrust, through the dirt & germs, the shabby loneliness, soup kitchens, and bad teeth, this is a book where the minimal events from an empty hand-to-mouth existence resonates with maximum effect.
Victor Baton, I raise a glass to you! This stuff ain't cheap either.
Here, pull up a chair - you a have friend in me now.
November 2, 2020
H眉z眉nl眉 ama 莽ok g眉zel bir roman. Sava艧 gazisi bir kahraman谋m谋z var. Sava艧 gibi b眉y眉k bir travma atlatm谋艧 olmas谋na ra臒men, kitap boyunca anl谋yoruz ki as谋l travmas谋 kendine bir "arkada艧" bulamamak. Sava艧ta hayatta kalm谋艧 olmas谋na ra臒men, arkada艧s谋z oldu臒u i莽in kendini hayata k枚k salm谋艧 ve ait hissedememek.
艦u s谋ralar Zambra'dan Serbest K眉rs眉'y眉 okuyorum. 艦枚yle diyor Zambra: 鈥淓debiyatta sadece 3,4 bilemedin 5 konu oldu臒u s枚yleniyor ama belki de tek bir konu vard谋r: ait olmak. T眉m kitaplar ait olma arzusu yahut bu arzuyu reddetme 眉zerinden okunabilir. Bir ailenin, bir toplulu臒un, bir 眉lkenin, 艦ili edebiyat谋n谋n, bir futbol tak谋m谋n谋n, bir siyasi partinin, bir rock grubunun, bir rock grubunun fan kul眉b眉n眉n, bir izci ya da Ads谋z Alkolikler grubunun par莽as谋 olmak ya da par莽as谋 olmay谋 b谋rakmak. Bize konu serbest dendi臒inde bunun hakk谋nda yaz谋yoruz; a艧k 枚l眉m, seyahat, sinekler, telgraflar ya da d枚ner tekerlekli bavullar hakk谋nda yazd谋臒谋m谋z谋 zannederken de yine bunun hakk谋nda yaz谋yoruz. 陌ster 艧aka yollu, ister ciddiyetle, ister 艧iir, ister d眉zyaz谋 bi莽iminde hep bundan bahsediyoruz: Ait olmak.鈥�
En 莽ok bu d眉艧眉nce kafama yatt谋 Arkada艧lar谋m bitince. Bu kitap ne hakk谋ndayd谋 diye d眉艧眉nd眉m, en g眉zel cevab谋 Zambra verdi, ait olmak hakk谋ndayd谋.
Tavsiye ederim.
艦u s谋ralar Zambra'dan Serbest K眉rs眉'y眉 okuyorum. 艦枚yle diyor Zambra: 鈥淓debiyatta sadece 3,4 bilemedin 5 konu oldu臒u s枚yleniyor ama belki de tek bir konu vard谋r: ait olmak. T眉m kitaplar ait olma arzusu yahut bu arzuyu reddetme 眉zerinden okunabilir. Bir ailenin, bir toplulu臒un, bir 眉lkenin, 艦ili edebiyat谋n谋n, bir futbol tak谋m谋n谋n, bir siyasi partinin, bir rock grubunun, bir rock grubunun fan kul眉b眉n眉n, bir izci ya da Ads谋z Alkolikler grubunun par莽as谋 olmak ya da par莽as谋 olmay谋 b谋rakmak. Bize konu serbest dendi臒inde bunun hakk谋nda yaz谋yoruz; a艧k 枚l眉m, seyahat, sinekler, telgraflar ya da d枚ner tekerlekli bavullar hakk谋nda yazd谋臒谋m谋z谋 zannederken de yine bunun hakk谋nda yaz谋yoruz. 陌ster 艧aka yollu, ister ciddiyetle, ister 艧iir, ister d眉zyaz谋 bi莽iminde hep bundan bahsediyoruz: Ait olmak.鈥�
En 莽ok bu d眉艧眉nce kafama yatt谋 Arkada艧lar谋m bitince. Bu kitap ne hakk谋ndayd谋 diye d眉艧眉nd眉m, en g眉zel cevab谋 Zambra verdi, ait olmak hakk谋ndayd谋.
Tavsiye ederim.
January 14, 2024
賯乇兀鬲 丕賱賰孬賷乇 賲賳 丕賱乇賵丕賷丕鬲 丕賱鬲賷 鬲鬲丨丿孬 毓賳 卮毓賵乇 丕賱廿賳爻丕賳 亘丕賱賵丨丿丞 賵賱賰賳 賴匕賴 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 賯丿 鬲亘丿賵 賲賳 亘賷賳 丕賱兀賮囟賱 賮賷 亘爻丕胤鬲賴丕 賵毓賮賵賷丞 賯氐鬲賴丕 丕賱賲賵噩毓丞 賵丕賱賲賱賷卅丞 亘丕賱賰賵賲賷丿賷丕 丕賱爻賵丿丕亍貙 乇賵丕賷丞 鬲噩毓賱賰 鬲丨夭賳 賰孬賷乇丕賸 賵鬲鬲毓丕胤賮 賲毓 亘胤賱 丕賱丨賰锟斤拷賷丕 丕賱匕賷 賷亘丨孬 亘卮賰賱 賲賴賷賳 毓賳 兀賷 氐丿丕賯丞 賴乇亘丕賸 賲賳 卮毓賵乇賴 丕賱丨丕丿 亘丕賱賵丨丿丞 賵丕賱毓夭賱丞貙 亘胤賱賳丕 賴賳丕 廿賳爻丕賳 鬲毓賷爻 賱賱睾丕賷丞 睾乇賷亘 丕賱兀胤賵丕乇 賲夭丕噩賷 亘卮賰賱 丨丕丿 貙 賯乇丕乇丕鬲賴 睾丕賱亘丕 賲鬲爻乇毓丞 賵毓丕胤賮賷丞 丕賱賶 丨丿 丕賱賲賱賱貙 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 鬲乇賷賰 丕賱賲卮賴丿 丕賱丨夭賷賳 賱賱廿賳爻丕賳 丕賱賵丨賷丿 賵丕賱睾賷乇 賲鬲賰賷賮 賮賷 毓氐乇賳丕貙 廿匕 兀賳 丕賱賳丕爻 兀氐亘丨賵丕 賲丨丕胤賷賳 亘爻賱丕爻賱 丕噩鬲賲丕毓賷丞 賲毓賯丿丞 賱賱賵氐賵賱 丕賱賶 賮賰乇丞 丕賱氐丿丕賯丞 丕賱亘丿丕卅賷丞貙 丕賱氐丿丕賯丕鬲 賴賷 賲噩丕賲賱丕鬲 賵賲乇丕賰夭 丕噩鬲賲丕毓賷丞 賵賲氐丕賱丨 賲毓賯丿丞 賵賲賳 丿賵賳 匕賱賰 爻賷賳亘匕賰 丕賱噩賲賷毓 亘卮賰賱 賲夭乇賷 貙 賱賴匕丕 鬲亘丿賵 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 亘毓囟 丕賱兀丨賷丕賳 賲禺賷賮丞 賵賲丨夭賳丞 賱丿乇噩丞 兀賳賰 鬲卮賮賯 毓賱賶 丕賱亘胤賱 賵鬲毓鬲亘乇賴 乇亘賲丕 兀亘賱賴丕賸 賵賱賰賳 賱賵 鬲毓賲賯鬲 賮賷 丕賱氐賵乇丞 丕賱賰丕賲賱丞 爻鬲噩丿 兀賳 丕賱兀賲乇 賰卅賷亘 賵賲丨夭賳 兀賰孬乇 賲賲丕 賳毓鬲賯丿 貙 賵賴賳丕 鬲匕賰乇鬲 兀賯鬲亘丕爻丕賸 賯乇兀鬲賴 賲賳匕 兀賷丕賲 乇亘賲丕 賷氐賮 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 亘卮賰賱 丿賯賷賯 賱賱睾丕賷丞 :
鈥忊€�" 賰孬賷乇丞賹 賴賷 丕賱兀禺胤丕亍 丕賱鬲賷 鬲購乇鬲賰亘 鬲丨鬲 賲購爻賲賶 丕賱卮毓賵乇 亘賽丕賱賵丨丿丞 ."
賵賴匕丕 亘丕賱囟亘胤 賲丕 鬲丿賵乇 毓賱賷賴 乇丨賶 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 ..
亘丕賱賲噩賲賱 乇賵丕賷丞 乇丕卅毓丞 賲亘丿毓丞 賵賮賷賴丕 亘賳丕亍 卮禺氐賷丞 亘卮賰賱 賲賲鬲毓 賵毓賮賵賷 貙 賮賷賴丕 兀賱鬲賯丕胤丕鬲 賳賮爻賷丞 賲亘賴乇丞 賲賲丕 丨賮夭賳賷 毓賱賶 賲賳丨賴丕 丕賱毓賱丕賲丞 丕賱賰丕賲賱丞 賲賳 丿賵賳 兀賷 賳丿賲 ..
鈥忊€�" 賰孬賷乇丞賹 賴賷 丕賱兀禺胤丕亍 丕賱鬲賷 鬲購乇鬲賰亘 鬲丨鬲 賲購爻賲賶 丕賱卮毓賵乇 亘賽丕賱賵丨丿丞 ."
賵賴匕丕 亘丕賱囟亘胤 賲丕 鬲丿賵乇 毓賱賷賴 乇丨賶 丕賱乇賵丕賷丞 ..
亘丕賱賲噩賲賱 乇賵丕賷丞 乇丕卅毓丞 賲亘丿毓丞 賵賮賷賴丕 亘賳丕亍 卮禺氐賷丞 亘卮賰賱 賲賲鬲毓 賵毓賮賵賷 貙 賮賷賴丕 兀賱鬲賯丕胤丕鬲 賳賮爻賷丞 賲亘賴乇丞 賲賲丕 丨賮夭賳賷 毓賱賶 賲賳丨賴丕 丕賱毓賱丕賲丞 丕賱賰丕賲賱丞 賲賳 丿賵賳 兀賷 賳丿賲 ..
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April 12, 2020How could a book about a sad and lonely unemployed handicapped ex-soldier living in poverty in a slum be funny? It's impossible. The main character is tragic, his situation is far too bleak to laugh at, yet I smiled and laughed over and over. I think Emmanuel Bove is a magician.
July 1, 2020
Emmanuel Bove, dilimize kazand谋r谋lmas谋 莽ok uzun s眉rm眉艧 bu kitab谋nda bu ba臒 kurma ihtiyac谋 i莽inde k谋vranan, iyile艧meye, b眉t眉nle艧meye ve ya艧am谋na anlam katmaya u臒ra艧an Victor Baton'u anlat谋yor. Baton'un tek istedi臒i kendisini dinlemeye, anlamaya biraz olsun 莽aba g枚steren birini bulmak, ona da t眉m varl谋臒谋n谋 sunmak. Yoksul olmas谋na, a莽l谋k s谋n谋r谋nda ya艧amas谋na ra臒men "sevgi ve ait olma" ihtiyac谋 b眉t眉n fizyolojik gereksinimlerinin de 枚n眉ne ge莽iyor. 陌stedi臒i yak谋nl谋臒谋 g枚remeyince kendisine sunulan bedenlerden de i艧lerden de vazge莽ebiliyor ve yeni bir "dost aray谋艧谋na" ba艧l谋yor.
Bu kitap ger莽ekten bir harika, 欧宝娱乐'in s谋k谋 okurlar谋ndan Mike Puma, Hamsun "A莽l谋k" kitab谋yla a莽l谋臒谋 nas谋l anlatt谋ysa Bove da "Arkada艧lar谋m" ile ayn谋 艧eyi ba艧arm谋艧 diyerek harika bir 枚zet yapm谋艧. Okuyun, okutun. 5/5
Bu kitap ger莽ekten bir harika, 欧宝娱乐'in s谋k谋 okurlar谋ndan Mike Puma, Hamsun "A莽l谋k" kitab谋yla a莽l谋臒谋 nas谋l anlatt谋ysa Bove da "Arkada艧lar谋m" ile ayn谋 艧eyi ba艧arm谋艧 diyerek harika bir 枚zet yapm谋艧. Okuyun, okutun. 5/5
November 2, 2011
Yes, this is a perfect novel. Perfect tone, voice, tempo. Perfect sentence by sentence. (I mean, is there a more tidy, well-crafted, luminous sentence than "Raindrops were falling on the ground, never one on top of another."- and I can't even tell you why it's perfect, it just is). All the perfect strange phrasing. ("In the morning we should go by taxi to the Bois de Boulogne. The driver's elbows would move." "I had no intention of dying, but I have often wanted to arouse pity. As soon as a passer-by approached I hid my face in my hands and sniffed like someone who has been crying. People turned as they went past me. Last week I came within a hair's breadth of throwing myself into the water in order to make it appear I was in earnest."). Perfect in its brevity. But it is a brevity that expands each time you reflect on what you have just read; the smallness of this book is elastic. The closest thing to its sad charm are the writings of Robert Walser, but it's so different. An utterly curious, funny, and brilliant rendering of a deep, deep solitude and otherness. No wonder Beckett was an admirer. B芒ton out-Molloys Molloy, and he doesn't even have to try so hard to unsettle you. Also, there is something uncomfortably familiar and close to home about B芒ton's meandering thoughts; under all of it is a spookily recognizable abyss.
October 30, 2011
Sometimes a book comes along that is so good that I don't know what to say. How do you express speechlessness in writing?
Every page contained perfect sentence after perfect sentence. Sentences that were both funny and sad at the same time. Like crystallizations, clear and precise. But above all, simple sentences--Bove makes writing seem easy, even self-evident, when it is obviously not.
Beckett says Bove has an instinct for the essential detail like no other, and I cannot agree more.
Observations on people:
Plot-wise, a comparison can be made with , in that both books show a man wandering around looking for sustenance. Both seem rather aimless and open ended. But in this book, the narrator's hunger is not for food, it is for human contact.
And whereas in Hunger, the speaker had an overly played out unreliable voice of madness, here the narrator's voice cannot be more different. It is uniquely a blend of naivety, self consciousness, doubt, bitterness, longing. This is a different sort of neuroticism, full of sensitivity and subtlety.
And quietness above all; this is not a loud book. Which is what makes it special. It almost begs you not to read it.
At times the naivete (especially in social situations) reminded me of some of 's characters, but the sentences are simpler. And the tone is not as exaggerated (exaggeration is a good thing in Walser's hands, but I must say what Bove does is probably more difficult). The naivete does not lead to wide eyed optimism, but a blend of human indecisiveness and complexity.
I think Victor Baton is more real to me than most of the people I know in real life.
I have the odd, uncomfortable feeling that this book was written just for me.
Every page contained perfect sentence after perfect sentence. Sentences that were both funny and sad at the same time. Like crystallizations, clear and precise. But above all, simple sentences--Bove makes writing seem easy, even self-evident, when it is obviously not.
Beckett says Bove has an instinct for the essential detail like no other, and I cannot agree more.
Observations on people:
He has two daughters and he beats them--just with his hand--for their own good. They have sinews at the back of their knees. Their hats are held on by elastic.On places:
Raindrops were falling on the ground, never one on top of another.On things:
It is odd how ugly women's wedding-rings are particularly noticeable.Even on his own psyche (for he is very self aware):
I am light-hearted as if I were going out without my overcoat for the first time. My eyelashes and the inside of my ears are still damp with washing-water. I am sorry for people who are still asleep.Just the fact that Victor (the narrator) notices things nobody else does sets him apart. One senses that his extraordinary gift for observation was honed through a life of being a loner, longing from the sidelines. Since he cannot possess things in real life, he possesses them in words.
Plot-wise, a comparison can be made with , in that both books show a man wandering around looking for sustenance. Both seem rather aimless and open ended. But in this book, the narrator's hunger is not for food, it is for human contact.
And whereas in Hunger, the speaker had an overly played out unreliable voice of madness, here the narrator's voice cannot be more different. It is uniquely a blend of naivety, self consciousness, doubt, bitterness, longing. This is a different sort of neuroticism, full of sensitivity and subtlety.
And quietness above all; this is not a loud book. Which is what makes it special. It almost begs you not to read it.
At times the naivete (especially in social situations) reminded me of some of 's characters, but the sentences are simpler. And the tone is not as exaggerated (exaggeration is a good thing in Walser's hands, but I must say what Bove does is probably more difficult). The naivete does not lead to wide eyed optimism, but a blend of human indecisiveness and complexity.
I think Victor Baton is more real to me than most of the people I know in real life.
I have the odd, uncomfortable feeling that this book was written just for me.
May 16, 2024
Nenametljivo s organskom lako膰om retko kada bude i lako postignuto i lako dosti啪no. Silesija nanovo otkrivenih opa啪aja u svakodnevlju, jer se ni拧ta vi拧e ne podrazumeva. Obzorje (planin膷uge) sitnica koje svako od nas primeti, ali promine pored njih, s(a)vesno ih ne artikuli拧u膰i. Dare啪ljiv je Bovov protagonista i u pogledu onoga 拧to vidi - recimo, fleke od mleka na papu膷ama od filca, disanje na stomak ili re膷enice poput ove: "Odnose膰i poznate glave i moje prazno mesto, tramvaj ode." - i u pogledu prituljenog a sveprisutnog humora - iz nekog (ne)pojamnog razloga u glavi su mi i Pen啪eov "Gospodin Son啪" i crtani film "Kalimero" - i u pogledu onoga 拧to 膰e raspr拧iti, a pre膰utati.
I delikatna, (in)diskretna la啪ljivost gose Batona, reljefnog narativnog ja, "Mojih prijatelja": spo膷etka, u uvodnoj听 glavi ovaj ne stupa bosom nogom iz kreveta, jer 膰e mu se zalepiti 拧ibice za gole tabane. Naravno, odmah vam do膽e da priupitate prevodioca na 拧ta je ta膷no mislio i da li ga je uhvatio dreme啪?! A onda, skraja, Baton, podstanarsko bi膰e bez bliskosti - o, prijatelji biv拧i, o, prijatelji budu膰i! - napominje da nikada nije palio 拧ibice po hodniku kada se po mraku vra膰ao u sobu (hm, da, radnja koja se odvija u me膽uratju dala bi se svesti na to da je protagonista ratni invalid s maleckom apana啪om koji tumara Parizom, poku拧avaju膰i da stekne prijatelja) pa to nipo拧to ne mo啪e biti razlog za拧to mu je sme拧taj otkazan. Eh! U najkra膰em, pouzdanost opa啪aja i nepouzdanost pri膷anja o sebi i sijaset ostalih dragocenosti. Sklopka par excellence!
P.S. Obavezno 膰u koristiti isti pe拧kir i za lice i za ruke i kada se, jednog lepog dana, obogatim. I ne dajte da vas korica odbije od knjige, jer ona je - knjiga - i ljupka i dra啪esna, bez trunke ograde i ironije!
I delikatna, (in)diskretna la啪ljivost gose Batona, reljefnog narativnog ja, "Mojih prijatelja": spo膷etka, u uvodnoj听 glavi ovaj ne stupa bosom nogom iz kreveta, jer 膰e mu se zalepiti 拧ibice za gole tabane. Naravno, odmah vam do膽e da priupitate prevodioca na 拧ta je ta膷no mislio i da li ga je uhvatio dreme啪?! A onda, skraja, Baton, podstanarsko bi膰e bez bliskosti - o, prijatelji biv拧i, o, prijatelji budu膰i! - napominje da nikada nije palio 拧ibice po hodniku kada se po mraku vra膰ao u sobu (hm, da, radnja koja se odvija u me膽uratju dala bi se svesti na to da je protagonista ratni invalid s maleckom apana啪om koji tumara Parizom, poku拧avaju膰i da stekne prijatelja) pa to nipo拧to ne mo啪e biti razlog za拧to mu je sme拧taj otkazan. Eh! U najkra膰em, pouzdanost opa啪aja i nepouzdanost pri膷anja o sebi i sijaset ostalih dragocenosti. Sklopka par excellence!
P.S. Obavezno 膰u koristiti isti pe拧kir i za lice i za ruke i kada se, jednog lepog dana, obogatim. I ne dajte da vas korica odbije od knjige, jer ona je - knjiga - i ljupka i dra啪esna, bez trunke ograde i ironije!
February 19, 2025
Je crois que Victor B芒ton, le protagoniste de ce livre, est un des grands h茅ros na茂fs de la litt茅rature. Il a, comme Don Quichotte, une qu锚te 鈥� quoique sans la grandeur id茅aliste de celle-ci. Il ne veut pas r茅tablir l'芒ge d'or sur la terre. Il ne veut que se faire un ami. Cependant, ses p茅rip茅ties et les r茅sultats d茅risoires de tous ses efforts sont tout aussi risibles et tristes que la parodie des actes h茅ro茂ques faite par le c茅l猫bre hidalgo.
L鈥檃charnement que Victor B芒ton met dans cette t芒che simple 鈥� trouver un vrai proche 鈥� et l鈥檌rr茅m茅diable, constant, 茅crasant 茅chec nous le montrent comme pas seulement aussi absurde que son pr茅d茅cesseur 鈥� si bien dans la forme la plus modeste et humble possible 鈥� mais aussi comme un des plus grands personnages petits de la litt茅rature moderne. 脌 propos, elle en abonde. Les personnages petits que j鈥檃ime le plus sont Akaki Akakievitch Bachmatchkine (du Manteau de Gogol), L鈥橦omme 脿 l鈥櫭﹖ui (de Tchekhov), Jakob von Gunten (de l鈥櫯搖vre homonyme de Robert Walser, traduite comme L鈥橧nstitut Benjamenta) et bien s没r, Gregor Samsa.
Parfois, en lisant, je me suis demand茅 qui sont, en fond, 鈥渓es amis鈥� de Victor B芒ton, si le livre porte tout de m锚me le titre Mes amis. Je crois qu'il y a (au moins) trois r茅ponses possibles: ou bien le titre est ironique, parce que le narrateur n鈥檃 pas d鈥檃mis; ou bien il r茅sulte de la candeur du personnage principal 鈥� parce que les pauvres et br猫ves relations qu鈥檌l entretient avec les autres lui suffisent pour les appeler des amis; ou encore, il existe une hypoth猫se peut-锚tre pas trop exag茅r茅e: les amis vis茅s par Victor, c鈥檈st nous, les lecteurs. Nous sommes, en fin de compte, les seuls 脿 qui il se montre sans r茅serves, dans sa petitesse et sa mis猫re.
Je crois que les personnages, surtout les personnages narrateurs, sont plus proches des lecteurs que des autres personnages du m锚me livre. C鈥檈st davantage 脿 nous qu鈥檈n racontant leurs histoires, en se confessant partiellement, ils r茅clament de la sympathie. Victor B芒ton, m锚me s鈥檌l est un homme na茂f et humble, est aussi tr猫s circonspect, m茅fiant envers les autres, hyperattentif 脿 tout ce qu鈥檌l faut ou devrait faire. Il est aussi un peu parano茂aque et narcissique, donc trop conscient de lui-m锚me et des autres. Il s鈥檈n fait une image exag茅r茅e, pr茅cis茅ment parce qu鈥檌l est trop conscient et minutieux. Il se perd dans les d茅tails. Sa na茂vet茅 est paradoxale ou a des nuances.
Victor B芒ton a envers les autres des 茅lans toujours un peu d茅lirants 鈥� ce qui m鈥檃 rappel茅 Don Quichotte chargeant les moulins 鈥� mais pas avec une lance comme son grand pr茅d茅cesseur id茅aliste. Il s鈥櫭﹍ance, mais il reste toujours sur ses gardes鈥� Cela s鈥檈xplique aussi par le fait qu鈥檌l est un v茅t茅ran de la Premi猫re Guerre mondiale. Sa scrupulosit茅 d茅fensive, ainsi que la rudesse ou l'indiff茅rence des autres, peuvent 锚tre justifi茅es par le contexte sociohistorique. La guerre a rendu les hommes plus 茅trangers les uns aux autres, moins confiants, plus vigilants qu'auparavant.
Dans certaines circonstances, Victor B芒ton affirme qu鈥檌l est un 鈥済rand bless茅鈥� de la guerre, mais ce n鈥檈st que vers la fin du roman que l鈥檕n d茅couvre qu鈥檌l a une main mutil茅e. Pourtant, selon un autre personnage, il n鈥檈st rien de plus qu鈥檜n 鈥渇ain茅ant鈥�. Il est sans doute difficile dans ses relations br猫ves et insuffisantes avec les autres. Il est aussi un peu sauvage. Peut-锚tre, comme le renard dans Le Petit Prince, cherche-t-il d鈥檃bord quelqu鈥檜n qui puisse 鈥渓鈥檃pprivoiser鈥�, le ramener 脿 cet 茅tat social, calme et affable, o霉 il serait surtout capable d鈥檃voir des amis, donc, d鈥櫭猼re aimable.
Dans son humiliation d茅risoire, Victor B芒ton ressemble un peu 脿 l鈥檋omme souterrain de Dosto茂evski. Tout aussi, il est comme l鈥檃rtiste de la faim de Kafka, personnage qui affiche son je没ne, mais pas pour en 锚tre admir茅 :
Comme le personnage de Kafka, qui n'aurait pas tant fait et affich茅 sa faim, s'il avait trouv茅 鈥渓鈥檃liment qui plaise鈥�, aussi Victor B芒ton n'aurait tant affich茅 sa solitude et n'aurait fait un tel cas d'elle, 鈥渄ans la rue鈥�, s'il avait trouv茅 ce qu鈥檌l imagine et cherche:
L'artiste de la faim et Victor B芒ton 鈥渏ouent la com茅die鈥� de leur manque. Pendant le spectacle de leur mis猫re, ils sont apparemment 鈥� ou vraiment, je ne saurais pas le dire 鈥� ridicules. Mais, en fond, ils souffrent. Le fait reste qu'ils ont chacun un grand besoin.
Victor B芒ton est l鈥檕bservateur minutieux de son petit monde. Toutes les descriptions sont des miniatures hyperr茅alistes, et c'est ce r茅seau de d茅tails quotidiens qui constitue le seul support palpable 鈥� mais tr猫s fin et fragile 鈥� de sa vie. Dans ma pr茅sentation d鈥�Armand, le second roman de Bove, j鈥檃i 茅crit un peu sur l'effet instantan茅 et la pr茅cision visuelle, presque photographique des descriptions. Et j鈥檃i m锚me collectionn茅 les images avec des ombres. Ici, je me limite seulement 脿 une image qui, hors contexte, semble un ha茂ku (dans mon acceptation occidentale et profane, les ha茂kus sont des descriptions tellement laconiques et hors contexte qu鈥檈lles en deviennent pures):
鈥淒es gouttes tombaient 脿 terre, jamais l鈥檜ne sur l鈥檃utre.鈥�
Mon imagination cr茅e des amis parfaits pour l'avenir, mais, en attendant, je me contente de n'importe qui.
L鈥檃charnement que Victor B芒ton met dans cette t芒che simple 鈥� trouver un vrai proche 鈥� et l鈥檌rr茅m茅diable, constant, 茅crasant 茅chec nous le montrent comme pas seulement aussi absurde que son pr茅d茅cesseur 鈥� si bien dans la forme la plus modeste et humble possible 鈥� mais aussi comme un des plus grands personnages petits de la litt茅rature moderne. 脌 propos, elle en abonde. Les personnages petits que j鈥檃ime le plus sont Akaki Akakievitch Bachmatchkine (du Manteau de Gogol), L鈥橦omme 脿 l鈥櫭﹖ui (de Tchekhov), Jakob von Gunten (de l鈥櫯搖vre homonyme de Robert Walser, traduite comme L鈥橧nstitut Benjamenta) et bien s没r, Gregor Samsa.
Parfois, en lisant, je me suis demand茅 qui sont, en fond, 鈥渓es amis鈥� de Victor B芒ton, si le livre porte tout de m锚me le titre Mes amis. Je crois qu'il y a (au moins) trois r茅ponses possibles: ou bien le titre est ironique, parce que le narrateur n鈥檃 pas d鈥檃mis; ou bien il r茅sulte de la candeur du personnage principal 鈥� parce que les pauvres et br猫ves relations qu鈥檌l entretient avec les autres lui suffisent pour les appeler des amis; ou encore, il existe une hypoth猫se peut-锚tre pas trop exag茅r茅e: les amis vis茅s par Victor, c鈥檈st nous, les lecteurs. Nous sommes, en fin de compte, les seuls 脿 qui il se montre sans r茅serves, dans sa petitesse et sa mis猫re.
Je crois que les personnages, surtout les personnages narrateurs, sont plus proches des lecteurs que des autres personnages du m锚me livre. C鈥檈st davantage 脿 nous qu鈥檈n racontant leurs histoires, en se confessant partiellement, ils r茅clament de la sympathie. Victor B芒ton, m锚me s鈥檌l est un homme na茂f et humble, est aussi tr猫s circonspect, m茅fiant envers les autres, hyperattentif 脿 tout ce qu鈥檌l faut ou devrait faire. Il est aussi un peu parano茂aque et narcissique, donc trop conscient de lui-m锚me et des autres. Il s鈥檈n fait une image exag茅r茅e, pr茅cis茅ment parce qu鈥檌l est trop conscient et minutieux. Il se perd dans les d茅tails. Sa na茂vet茅 est paradoxale ou a des nuances.
Victor B芒ton a envers les autres des 茅lans toujours un peu d茅lirants 鈥� ce qui m鈥檃 rappel茅 Don Quichotte chargeant les moulins 鈥� mais pas avec une lance comme son grand pr茅d茅cesseur id茅aliste. Il s鈥櫭﹍ance, mais il reste toujours sur ses gardes鈥� Cela s鈥檈xplique aussi par le fait qu鈥檌l est un v茅t茅ran de la Premi猫re Guerre mondiale. Sa scrupulosit茅 d茅fensive, ainsi que la rudesse ou l'indiff茅rence des autres, peuvent 锚tre justifi茅es par le contexte sociohistorique. La guerre a rendu les hommes plus 茅trangers les uns aux autres, moins confiants, plus vigilants qu'auparavant.
Dans certaines circonstances, Victor B芒ton affirme qu鈥檌l est un 鈥済rand bless茅鈥� de la guerre, mais ce n鈥檈st que vers la fin du roman que l鈥檕n d茅couvre qu鈥檌l a une main mutil茅e. Pourtant, selon un autre personnage, il n鈥檈st rien de plus qu鈥檜n 鈥渇ain茅ant鈥�. Il est sans doute difficile dans ses relations br猫ves et insuffisantes avec les autres. Il est aussi un peu sauvage. Peut-锚tre, comme le renard dans Le Petit Prince, cherche-t-il d鈥檃bord quelqu鈥檜n qui puisse 鈥渓鈥檃pprivoiser鈥�, le ramener 脿 cet 茅tat social, calme et affable, o霉 il serait surtout capable d鈥檃voir des amis, donc, d鈥櫭猼re aimable.
Je voudrais que l鈥檕n s鈥檕ccup芒t de moi, que l鈥檕n m鈥檃im芒t. Comme je ne connais personne, j鈥檈ssaye d锟斤拷attirer l鈥檃ttention, dans la rue, car il n鈥檡 a que l脿 qu鈥檕n puisse me remarquer.
Mon cas ressemble 脿 celui du mendiant qui, en plein hiver, chante sur un pont, 脿 minuit. Les passants ne donnent rien parce qu鈥檌ls trouvent cette fa莽on de demander l鈥檃um么ne un peu trop th茅芒trale. De m锚me, en me voyant accoud茅 sur un parapet, m茅lancolique et d茅s艙uvr茅, les passants devinent que je joue la com茅die. Ils ont raison. Mais, tout de m锚me, ne pensez-vous pas que c鈥檈st une situation bien triste que celle de mendier 脿 minuit sur un pont ou de s鈥檃ccouder sur un parapet, pour int茅resser le monde.
Dans son humiliation d茅risoire, Victor B芒ton ressemble un peu 脿 l鈥檋omme souterrain de Dosto茂evski. Tout aussi, il est comme l鈥檃rtiste de la faim de Kafka, personnage qui affiche son je没ne, mais pas pour en 锚tre admir茅 :
芦J鈥檃i toujours voulu que vous admiriez mon je没ne禄, dit le je没neur. 芦Mais nous l鈥檃dmirons!禄 dit l鈥檌nspecteur, conciliant. 芦Mais il ne faut pas l鈥檃dmirer!禄, dit le je没neur. 芦Bon, dans ce cas-l脿, nous ne l鈥檃dmirons pas禄, dit l鈥檌nspecteur, 芦et pourquoi ne faut-il pas l鈥檃dmirer ?禄 芦Parce que je suis forc茅 d鈥檃voir faim, je ne peux pas faire autrement禄, dit le je没neur. 芦Voyez-moi cela禄, dit l鈥檌nspecteur, 芦et pourquoi ne peux-tu pas faire autrement?禄 芦Parce que禄, dit le je没neur, (en soulevant un peu sa petite t锚te et en avan莽ant les l猫vres comme s鈥檌l voulait donner un baiser; il parlait 脿 l鈥檕reille de l鈥檌nspecteur, afin qu鈥檃ucune de ses paroles ne se perd卯t), parce que je n鈥檃i pas pu trouver d鈥檃liment qui me plaise. Si j鈥檈n avais trouv茅 un, crois-moi, je n鈥檃urais pas fait tant de fa莽ons et je m鈥檈n serais repu comme toi et les autres.禄
Comme le personnage de Kafka, qui n'aurait pas tant fait et affich茅 sa faim, s'il avait trouv茅 鈥渓鈥檃liment qui plaise鈥�, aussi Victor B芒ton n'aurait tant affich茅 sa solitude et n'aurait fait un tel cas d'elle, 鈥渄ans la rue鈥�, s'il avait trouv茅 ce qu鈥檌l imagine et cherche:
Je cherche un ami. Je crois que je ne le trouverai jamais.
L'artiste de la faim et Victor B芒ton 鈥渏ouent la com茅die鈥� de leur manque. Pendant le spectacle de leur mis猫re, ils sont apparemment 鈥� ou vraiment, je ne saurais pas le dire 鈥� ridicules. Mais, en fond, ils souffrent. Le fait reste qu'ils ont chacun un grand besoin.
Victor B芒ton est l鈥檕bservateur minutieux de son petit monde. Toutes les descriptions sont des miniatures hyperr茅alistes, et c'est ce r茅seau de d茅tails quotidiens qui constitue le seul support palpable 鈥� mais tr猫s fin et fragile 鈥� de sa vie. Dans ma pr茅sentation d鈥�Armand, le second roman de Bove, j鈥檃i 茅crit un peu sur l'effet instantan茅 et la pr茅cision visuelle, presque photographique des descriptions. Et j鈥檃i m锚me collectionn茅 les images avec des ombres. Ici, je me limite seulement 脿 une image qui, hors contexte, semble un ha茂ku (dans mon acceptation occidentale et profane, les ha茂kus sont des descriptions tellement laconiques et hors contexte qu鈥檈lles en deviennent pures):
鈥淒es gouttes tombaient 脿 terre, jamais l鈥檜ne sur l鈥檃utre.鈥�
November 25, 2024
Emmanuel Bove schreibt mit 鈥濵eine Freunde鈥� einen psychologischen Episodenroman 眉ber Victor Baton, einem einsamen Invaliden, nach dem ersten Weltkrieg in Frankreich.
M眉sste ich das Buch mit einem Wort beschreiben, dann dieses: Unangenehm.
Victor ist einsam. Er hat keine Freunde, keine Vertrauten. Er lebt sozial isoliert in einem heruntergekommen Dachzimmerchen.
鈥濱ch liebe die Bahnh枚fe, weil sie Tag und Nacht belebt sind. Wenn ich nicht schlafen kann, f眉hle ich mich dort weniger allein.鈥�
Ein Mensch, von vielen Unsicherheiten und 脛ngsten gepr盲gt. Er ist z枚gerlich, zur眉ckhaltend, traut sich oft nicht. Sich l盲cherlich zu machen, 盲ngstigt ihn sehr.
Eine schrecklich sensible Pers枚nlichkeit.
鈥濱ch mag die Frauen in Pantoffeln: die Beine wirken nicht so unnahbar.鈥�
Furchtbar empathisch trotten wir mit ihm, im Versuch Freunde zu finden, durch seinen Alltag und erleben eine Klatsche nach der Anderen. Hahaaa...nix da. Bove hat was ganz Gemeines auf Lager.
Victor ist eine 盲u脽erst komplexe, schwer zug盲ngliche und ambivalente Pers枚nlichkeit.
Er sucht seinen Platz in der Welt 鈥� keine Frage. Auf eine destruktive Weise, die ihres gleichen sucht.
Als er erf盲hrt, dass sein m枚glicher neue Kumpel eine M盲tresse hat, ist er v枚llig durch den Wind:
鈥瀠nd er wurde geliebt, w盲hrend ich allein lebte, ich, der ich j眉nger und sch枚ner war.
Nie w眉rden wir miteinander zurechtkommen. Er war gl眉cklich. Die Folge: ich interessierte ihn nicht. Das einzig Richtige: weggehen.鈥�
Sind wir etwa missg眉nstig? Wo ist das Indiz daf眉r, dass du ihn nicht interessierst? Erwartest du etwa auch deine schlechten Eigenschaften, deine Befindlichkeiten von anderen?
Victor ist stark auf das Au脽en fixiert, das er wiederum an seine inneren Zust盲nde bindet, die er umgegekehrt auf das Au脽en 眉bertr盲gt. Sein fragiles Wesen und das Unverm枚gen mit dem Unbekannten umzugehen, lassen ihn bei der kleinsten Unsicherheit kippen und leichtes Opfer f眉r Manipulationen werden.
鈥濫ine Wolke verbarg die Sonne. Die warme Stra脽e wurde fahl. Verschwunden war der Glanz an den Fliegen.
Ich f眉hlte Traurigkeit.
Gerade noch war ich ins Unbekannte aufgebrochen, in der Einbildung, ein Landstreicher zu sein, frei und gl眉cklich. Jetzt, wegen einer Wolke, war alles aus.
Ich kehrte um.鈥�
Sobald er in Interaktion mit Menschen tritt, kommt zu diesen Eigenschaften noch obsessives Verhalten und eine ekelhafte Werte und Normenordnung hinzu, die ihn zu hypersymbolischen Interpretationen jeder noch so kleinsten Geste verleitet. 脺berall lauern f眉r ihn Machtspielchen. Er f眉hlt sich in Frage gestellt. Seine Welt ist voller unsichtbarer Regeln, die er best盲tigen und verteidigen muss.
鈥濧ls die Gl盲ser leer waren, schenkte ich sofort nach, aus Sorge, Neveu w眉rde mir zuvorkommen. H盲tte er sich das herausgenommen, w盲re ich schockiert gewesen. Es w盲re ein Zeichen daf眉r gewesen, da脽 er meine 脺berlegenheit nicht anerkannte. War es nicht schon genug, da脽 er mich duzte?鈥�
Irgendwann wird klar, so einsam er ist, so gern sabotiert er sich selbst.
Bove bearbeitet meines Erachtens einen Konflikt der Authentizit盲t. Victor scheitert an seiner Aufrichtigkeit und schildert uns dennoch als Icherz盲hler in schonungsloser Ehrlichkeit seine Schw盲chen. Victor ist ein M枚biusband. Er zeigt uns seine zwei Seiten, die eins sind und dennoch in einer st盲ndigen unaufl枚sbaren Paradoxie zueinander vorliegen.
Und diese Spannung, diese unertr盲glichen Seiten Victors, l盲sst er den Leser im Nacken gepackt, reduziert, verknappt und dicht miterleben.
Hier flieht einer vor der Freiheit durch Scheinaktivit盲t.
鈥濿enn ich von zu Hause weggehe, rechne ich immer mit einem Ereignis, das mein Leben von Grund auf 盲ndern wird. Ich erwarte es bis zum Moment meiner R眉ckkehr. Das ist der Grund, da脽 ich nie im Zimmer bleibe. Leider ist dieses Ereignis nie eingetreten.鈥�
Ich h盲tte dem Buch zu gerne 5 Sterne gegeben. Absolut faszinierendes Buch. Allerdings bekommt es durch den episodischen Charakter eine gewisse Monotonie. Einige Episoden wirken etwas zu schematisch. Au脽erdem sind sie nicht sonderlich koh盲rent miteinander verbunden. Am Ende des Tages bekomme ich leider ein dezentes Geschm盲ckle von Lehrst眉ck. Das ist allerdings jammern auf hohem Niveau.
M眉sste ich das Buch mit einem Wort beschreiben, dann dieses: Unangenehm.
Victor ist einsam. Er hat keine Freunde, keine Vertrauten. Er lebt sozial isoliert in einem heruntergekommen Dachzimmerchen.
鈥濱ch liebe die Bahnh枚fe, weil sie Tag und Nacht belebt sind. Wenn ich nicht schlafen kann, f眉hle ich mich dort weniger allein.鈥�
Ein Mensch, von vielen Unsicherheiten und 脛ngsten gepr盲gt. Er ist z枚gerlich, zur眉ckhaltend, traut sich oft nicht. Sich l盲cherlich zu machen, 盲ngstigt ihn sehr.
Eine schrecklich sensible Pers枚nlichkeit.
鈥濱ch mag die Frauen in Pantoffeln: die Beine wirken nicht so unnahbar.鈥�
Furchtbar empathisch trotten wir mit ihm, im Versuch Freunde zu finden, durch seinen Alltag und erleben eine Klatsche nach der Anderen. Hahaaa...nix da. Bove hat was ganz Gemeines auf Lager.
Victor ist eine 盲u脽erst komplexe, schwer zug盲ngliche und ambivalente Pers枚nlichkeit.
Er sucht seinen Platz in der Welt 鈥� keine Frage. Auf eine destruktive Weise, die ihres gleichen sucht.
Als er erf盲hrt, dass sein m枚glicher neue Kumpel eine M盲tresse hat, ist er v枚llig durch den Wind:
鈥瀠nd er wurde geliebt, w盲hrend ich allein lebte, ich, der ich j眉nger und sch枚ner war.
Nie w眉rden wir miteinander zurechtkommen. Er war gl眉cklich. Die Folge: ich interessierte ihn nicht. Das einzig Richtige: weggehen.鈥�
Sind wir etwa missg眉nstig? Wo ist das Indiz daf眉r, dass du ihn nicht interessierst? Erwartest du etwa auch deine schlechten Eigenschaften, deine Befindlichkeiten von anderen?
Victor ist stark auf das Au脽en fixiert, das er wiederum an seine inneren Zust盲nde bindet, die er umgegekehrt auf das Au脽en 眉bertr盲gt. Sein fragiles Wesen und das Unverm枚gen mit dem Unbekannten umzugehen, lassen ihn bei der kleinsten Unsicherheit kippen und leichtes Opfer f眉r Manipulationen werden.
鈥濫ine Wolke verbarg die Sonne. Die warme Stra脽e wurde fahl. Verschwunden war der Glanz an den Fliegen.
Ich f眉hlte Traurigkeit.
Gerade noch war ich ins Unbekannte aufgebrochen, in der Einbildung, ein Landstreicher zu sein, frei und gl眉cklich. Jetzt, wegen einer Wolke, war alles aus.
Ich kehrte um.鈥�
Sobald er in Interaktion mit Menschen tritt, kommt zu diesen Eigenschaften noch obsessives Verhalten und eine ekelhafte Werte und Normenordnung hinzu, die ihn zu hypersymbolischen Interpretationen jeder noch so kleinsten Geste verleitet. 脺berall lauern f眉r ihn Machtspielchen. Er f眉hlt sich in Frage gestellt. Seine Welt ist voller unsichtbarer Regeln, die er best盲tigen und verteidigen muss.
鈥濧ls die Gl盲ser leer waren, schenkte ich sofort nach, aus Sorge, Neveu w眉rde mir zuvorkommen. H盲tte er sich das herausgenommen, w盲re ich schockiert gewesen. Es w盲re ein Zeichen daf眉r gewesen, da脽 er meine 脺berlegenheit nicht anerkannte. War es nicht schon genug, da脽 er mich duzte?鈥�
Irgendwann wird klar, so einsam er ist, so gern sabotiert er sich selbst.
Bove bearbeitet meines Erachtens einen Konflikt der Authentizit盲t. Victor scheitert an seiner Aufrichtigkeit und schildert uns dennoch als Icherz盲hler in schonungsloser Ehrlichkeit seine Schw盲chen. Victor ist ein M枚biusband. Er zeigt uns seine zwei Seiten, die eins sind und dennoch in einer st盲ndigen unaufl枚sbaren Paradoxie zueinander vorliegen.
Und diese Spannung, diese unertr盲glichen Seiten Victors, l盲sst er den Leser im Nacken gepackt, reduziert, verknappt und dicht miterleben.
Hier flieht einer vor der Freiheit durch Scheinaktivit盲t.
鈥濿enn ich von zu Hause weggehe, rechne ich immer mit einem Ereignis, das mein Leben von Grund auf 盲ndern wird. Ich erwarte es bis zum Moment meiner R眉ckkehr. Das ist der Grund, da脽 ich nie im Zimmer bleibe. Leider ist dieses Ereignis nie eingetreten.鈥�
Ich h盲tte dem Buch zu gerne 5 Sterne gegeben. Absolut faszinierendes Buch. Allerdings bekommt es durch den episodischen Charakter eine gewisse Monotonie. Einige Episoden wirken etwas zu schematisch. Au脽erdem sind sie nicht sonderlich koh盲rent miteinander verbunden. Am Ende des Tages bekomme ich leider ein dezentes Geschm盲ckle von Lehrst眉ck. Das ist allerdings jammern auf hohem Niveau.
March 13, 2021
Ovo je jedna od onih potmulih knjiga koje parali拧u svaku artikulaciju utiska, koje se retko i te拧ko pi拧u, a naj膷e拧膰e i na啪alost ostaju ostrvo u pi拧膷evom opusu.
Afektiraju膰i manir osnovno拧kolske ve啪be prepri膷avanja (Osvanuo je sun膷an dan. Spremao sam se da idem na pecanje sa Markom. Ja sam poneo crvi膰e. Markova mama je spremila one hrskave sendvi膷e 拧to ih najvi拧e volim.), u膰ilibariv拧i svaku re膷 i krvlju i znojem (toliko pa啪ljivo, dabome, da kapi nijedanput ne padnu jedna na drugu), Emanuel Bov posti啪e istinski jedinstven izraz, o kome se nipo拧to ne mo啪e govoriti kao o zanatskoj uspelosti, ta膷nosti i balansiranju. Eto, to bi moglo biti ono 膷istopisa膷ko ne拧to, za拧ta Handke predla啪e kanonizaciju.
Ovako suptilnu perverziju nigde nisam videla (mo啪da bih, da je Jakob fon Gunten bio nekakav 沤akob de Gunte, ali.., pa, tad bi bio Viktor Baton). Nadam se da joj 膰e dejstvo uskoro prestati, jer ne znam kako da se re拧im ove podsvesne, bovovski perverzne potrebe za hodanjem na prstima.
Zavidim Bojanu Savi膰-Ostoji膰u, pa i na mukama.
Afektiraju膰i manir osnovno拧kolske ve啪be prepri膷avanja (Osvanuo je sun膷an dan. Spremao sam se da idem na pecanje sa Markom. Ja sam poneo crvi膰e. Markova mama je spremila one hrskave sendvi膷e 拧to ih najvi拧e volim.), u膰ilibariv拧i svaku re膷 i krvlju i znojem (toliko pa啪ljivo, dabome, da kapi nijedanput ne padnu jedna na drugu), Emanuel Bov posti啪e istinski jedinstven izraz, o kome se nipo拧to ne mo啪e govoriti kao o zanatskoj uspelosti, ta膷nosti i balansiranju. Eto, to bi moglo biti ono 膷istopisa膷ko ne拧to, za拧ta Handke predla啪e kanonizaciju.
Ovako suptilnu perverziju nigde nisam videla (mo啪da bih, da je Jakob fon Gunten bio nekakav 沤akob de Gunte, ali.., pa, tad bi bio Viktor Baton). Nadam se da joj 膰e dejstvo uskoro prestati, jer ne znam kako da se re拧im ove podsvesne, bovovski perverzne potrebe za hodanjem na prstima.
Zavidim Bojanu Savi膰-Ostoji膰u, pa i na mukama.
April 14, 2012
Lets talk about the mystery of the unique French invention of concierge, rampant in its heyday of 1920s Paris. What manner of beast is it? Here is what I can deduce: withered old crone (invariably), comfortably ensconced in a freebie flat on the parterre of a block of flats, tasked with the baton of promoting virtue and morality, which should always be accomplished by bombastically parading up and down the stairwell, broom in hand (for show only: no cleaning ever seems to be done) and sermonising with the residents. And, the piece de resistance: locking up the front door at 10 pm for the night. Now, as the residents don鈥檛 have a front door key, anyone foolish enough to be out past 10 pm, like our hapless protagonist Victor Baton, takes their own lives into their hands, rings the doorbell, and is at the mercy of the Furies. I think France may have perfected the three strikes and you鈥檙e out at about this time, and long before the States and now the UK.
Victor Baton, then, once circumvented of concierge lambastment, must now climb up seven flights to his attic garconniere. Now, I鈥檝e seen these Parisian turn of the century apartment buildings. The ceilings are 14 ft high min. So its more like 11 flights of stairs in modern parlance. (obviously no ascenseur ). What demon architect concocted these torture chambers, I don鈥檛 know. I do know, however, if you were to pop out and discover its pelting it down, going back up to retrieve your brolly would be a non sequiter. Not even if there is a tsunami outside. Once you鈥檙e down, you鈥檙e down for the day.
This book has nothing to do with concierge or apartment design, apart from a passing mention in one sentence. But, it doesn鈥檛 take much to get me going, I guess.
Emmanuel Bove is Colette鈥檚 prot茅g茅: that sold me. And neither Colette nor Bove disappoint. A simpy written tale of a naive and lonely young man looking for companionship, it is a 1923 gentle precursor to Nathaniel West鈥檚 Pitkin in 鈥楢 Cool Million鈥� and latterly of Evan Connell鈥檚 鈥楧iary of a Rapist'. In all three the (anti)hero fails to find a fit with social norm and vacillates between exuberant (but false) sense of connectivity and a vague sense of alarm that all is not well in the kingdom of Denmark. Deeply moving account of the vagaries of the outlier.
Victor Baton, then, once circumvented of concierge lambastment, must now climb up seven flights to his attic garconniere. Now, I鈥檝e seen these Parisian turn of the century apartment buildings. The ceilings are 14 ft high min. So its more like 11 flights of stairs in modern parlance. (obviously no ascenseur ). What demon architect concocted these torture chambers, I don鈥檛 know. I do know, however, if you were to pop out and discover its pelting it down, going back up to retrieve your brolly would be a non sequiter. Not even if there is a tsunami outside. Once you鈥檙e down, you鈥檙e down for the day.
This book has nothing to do with concierge or apartment design, apart from a passing mention in one sentence. But, it doesn鈥檛 take much to get me going, I guess.
Emmanuel Bove is Colette鈥檚 prot茅g茅: that sold me. And neither Colette nor Bove disappoint. A simpy written tale of a naive and lonely young man looking for companionship, it is a 1923 gentle precursor to Nathaniel West鈥檚 Pitkin in 鈥楢 Cool Million鈥� and latterly of Evan Connell鈥檚 鈥楧iary of a Rapist'. In all three the (anti)hero fails to find a fit with social norm and vacillates between exuberant (but false) sense of connectivity and a vague sense of alarm that all is not well in the kingdom of Denmark. Deeply moving account of the vagaries of the outlier.
April 25, 2021
3,5*
Embora a solid茫o seja um dos meus temas preferidos na literatura, este livro t茫o aclamado passou-me um bocado ao lado, j谩 que n茫o me comoveu nem lhe achei muita gra莽a. O narrador, Victor B芒ton, 茅 um inv谩lido de guerra que vive numa pens茫o e passa os dias a vaguear pelas ruas para ocupar o tempo e tentar fazer amigos. O resultado 茅 repetitivo: ou s茫o pessoas t茫o miser谩veis como ele que s贸 se querem aproveitar, ou s茫o senhores abastados que querem ajud谩-lo apenas por pena. B芒ton 茅 uma personagem tragic贸mica, 脿s vezes pat茅tica e iludida, outras vezes, realista e racional, cuja abordagem 脿s mulheres 茅 um pouco perturbadora e repelente.
鈥淎h! A solid茫o, que bela e triste coisa! Como 茅 bela quando a escolhemos! Como 茅 triste quando nos 茅 imposta h谩 anos! Certos homens fortes n茫o est茫o s贸s na solid茫o, mas eu, que sou fraco, estou s贸 quando n茫o tenho amigos."
Embora a solid茫o seja um dos meus temas preferidos na literatura, este livro t茫o aclamado passou-me um bocado ao lado, j谩 que n茫o me comoveu nem lhe achei muita gra莽a. O narrador, Victor B芒ton, 茅 um inv谩lido de guerra que vive numa pens茫o e passa os dias a vaguear pelas ruas para ocupar o tempo e tentar fazer amigos. O resultado 茅 repetitivo: ou s茫o pessoas t茫o miser谩veis como ele que s贸 se querem aproveitar, ou s茫o senhores abastados que querem ajud谩-lo apenas por pena. B芒ton 茅 uma personagem tragic贸mica, 脿s vezes pat茅tica e iludida, outras vezes, realista e racional, cuja abordagem 脿s mulheres 茅 um pouco perturbadora e repelente.
鈥淎h! A solid茫o, que bela e triste coisa! Como 茅 bela quando a escolhemos! Como 茅 triste quando nos 茅 imposta h谩 anos! Certos homens fortes n茫o est茫o s贸s na solid茫o, mas eu, que sou fraco, estou s贸 quando n茫o tenho amigos."
March 15, 2020
鈥淟a mia immaginazione si costruisce degli amici perfetti per l'avvenire ma, nell'attesa, mi accontento di chiunque.鈥�
fu pubblicato nel 1924 e conobbe un enorme successo per alcuni anni per poi essere completamente dimenticato.
Si deve a Peter Handke * il merito di aver riportato all'attenzione del pubblico di lettori questo racconto.
Victor Baton 猫 il nome del protagonista che ci racconta in prima persona e con spiazzante semplicit脿 il peso e la misura della propria solitudine.
Frasi brevi, precise, dettagli chiari:
tutti ingredienti che compongono la cornice di un malessere esistenziale.
Un uomo solo tra la folla della metropoli parigina.
La cameretta spoglia e umida, i vestiti rattoppati (come non pensare a Raskolnikov?), la pelle sporca.
Victor 猫 fuori dai percorsi tracciati: 猫 un reduce di guerra che percepisce una pensione minima d鈥檌nvalidit脿.
La gente, per貌, vuole dimenticare la guerra e di lui hanno compassione solo pochi filantropi.
Non lavora e non vuole lavorare.
Cammina tutto il giorno per la citt脿.
Osserva tutto e soprattutto la gente perch茅 il suo unico desiderio 猫 non essere solo, avere degli amici.
Non sembra difficile, eppure鈥�.
鈥� Ah, la solitudine, che cosa bella e triste! Come 猫 triste quando ci 猫 imposta da anni!
Certi uomini forti non sono soli nella solitudine, ma io, che sono debole, sono solo quando non ho nessun amico.鈥�
--------------------------------------
* Dalla nota finale del traduttore:
鈥� 脠 lecito dire che il silenzio che dopo la sua morte ha avvolto l'opera di Bove, sia stato infranto solo negli ultimi anni grazie ad una traduzione devota di questo romanzo (e del successivo Armand) da parte dello scrittore austriaco Peter Handke. Dopo, Mes amis 猫 diventato perfino un oggetto di culto. Per fare un esempio, il regista Wim Wenders passeggia in un suo cortometraggio su New Jork col romanzo sottobraccio, mentre la sua voce fuori campo suggerisce: "Finalmente, dopo giorni di erranza, 猫 un libro a destarmi la voglia di immagini restituendomi il senso del racconto. Questa storia semplice ed esemplare, con il suo rispetto dei dettagli, mi ricorda che il cinema pu貌 descrivere allo stesso modo, lasciando le cose cos矛 come sono."
fu pubblicato nel 1924 e conobbe un enorme successo per alcuni anni per poi essere completamente dimenticato.
Si deve a Peter Handke * il merito di aver riportato all'attenzione del pubblico di lettori questo racconto.
Victor Baton 猫 il nome del protagonista che ci racconta in prima persona e con spiazzante semplicit脿 il peso e la misura della propria solitudine.
Frasi brevi, precise, dettagli chiari:
tutti ingredienti che compongono la cornice di un malessere esistenziale.
Un uomo solo tra la folla della metropoli parigina.
La cameretta spoglia e umida, i vestiti rattoppati (come non pensare a Raskolnikov?), la pelle sporca.
Victor 猫 fuori dai percorsi tracciati: 猫 un reduce di guerra che percepisce una pensione minima d鈥檌nvalidit脿.
La gente, per貌, vuole dimenticare la guerra e di lui hanno compassione solo pochi filantropi.
Non lavora e non vuole lavorare.
Cammina tutto il giorno per la citt脿.
Osserva tutto e soprattutto la gente perch茅 il suo unico desiderio 猫 non essere solo, avere degli amici.
Non sembra difficile, eppure鈥�.
鈥� Ah, la solitudine, che cosa bella e triste! Come 猫 triste quando ci 猫 imposta da anni!
Certi uomini forti non sono soli nella solitudine, ma io, che sono debole, sono solo quando non ho nessun amico.鈥�
--------------------------------------
* Dalla nota finale del traduttore:
鈥� 脠 lecito dire che il silenzio che dopo la sua morte ha avvolto l'opera di Bove, sia stato infranto solo negli ultimi anni grazie ad una traduzione devota di questo romanzo (e del successivo Armand) da parte dello scrittore austriaco Peter Handke. Dopo, Mes amis 猫 diventato perfino un oggetto di culto. Per fare un esempio, il regista Wim Wenders passeggia in un suo cortometraggio su New Jork col romanzo sottobraccio, mentre la sua voce fuori campo suggerisce: "Finalmente, dopo giorni di erranza, 猫 un libro a destarmi la voglia di immagini restituendomi il senso del racconto. Questa storia semplice ed esemplare, con il suo rispetto dei dettagli, mi ricorda che il cinema pu貌 descrivere allo stesso modo, lasciando le cose cos矛 come sono."
May 12, 2024
"Me hubiera gustado correr hacia 茅l, pero como seguramente habr铆a supuesto que llevaba varias horas esper谩ndole, me contuve. Nunca se habr铆a cre铆do que acababa de llegar.
La gente no cree en la casualidad, sobre todo cuando 茅sta es la 煤nica excusa."
Emmanuel Bove es un autor franc茅s al que no conoc铆a, imagino que porque la literatura francesa no me entusiasma y me mantengo alejada de ella, pero tengo que dejarme de prejuicios ya a estas alturas, porque 驴qu茅 m谩s dan estas etiquetas que no valen para nada? Bove es absolutamente franc茅s y la novela me ha encandilado totalmente. La cita del principio define perfectamente a Victor Baton, el antih茅roe de Emmanuel Bove, un tipo que se pasa el tiempo corriendo detr谩s de la gente pidiendo migajas de amistad, de amor鈥� necesita un calor humano que no encuentra, o 茅l cree que lo necesita y quiz谩s esto nuble sus verdaderas necesidades. Realmente la novela no me ha encandilado tanto por el argumento sino por c贸mo est谩 narrada, aqu铆 es donde est谩 el impacto al encontrarme con ella鈥� 驴c贸mo es posible que Emmanuel Bove haya podido transmitir esta vida tan gris, tan inadaptada con esta finura por los detalles, con este sentido del humor tan s煤til, con esta gracia continua que te hace querer avanzar cuando su antih茅roe es un hombre tan apagado y victimilla? La historia fluye en frases cortas, que van al grano, en las que el mon贸logo interior de Victor Baton, nos lo cuenta todo, el vuelo de una mosca, una camarera sirvi茅ndole un trago (鈥淎unque un poco borracho, sal铆 con la torpeza de un hombre desnudo.鈥�), una mirada cruzada en una calle, un vigilar desde la distancia a un amigo esperando que no suene a casualidad cuando se encuentren, cuando realmente la casualidad 驴existe???
鈥淐uando habla de todo aquello, sus dos ojos, el verdadero y el falso, se humedecen y sus pesta帽as se juntan en peque帽as mechas.
Los tiempos de antes de la guerra han desaparecido tan r谩pido que no puede creer que no sean m谩s que un recuerdo.鈥�
Victor Baron es un veterano de la Primera Guerra Mundial, vuelve de ella hecho un desastre, fr谩gil e inseguro aunque parece tener muy claro que en el fondo disfruta de su libertad. Est谩 perdido, deambula de aqu铆 para all谩, intentando trabar amistades forzadas pero ya sabemos que en esto de la amistad lo importante no es tanto coincidir (que ya de por s铆 es dif铆cil) sino conectar, aunque no s茅 qu茅 ser谩 m谩s dif铆cil de estas dos C鈥檚 porque Victor coincide y parece que se esfuerza, se hace accesible, pero la conexi贸n no se establece, no s茅 si porque finalmente sus supuestos amigos encontrados casualmente en la calle est谩n demasiado ocupados con sus vidas como para pararse con 茅l como 茅l quiere pensar o, y es lo que creo, que Victor est茅 en una eterna huida, 茅l cree que necesita a la gente pero en el fondo sabe que est谩 mejor solo. Expresa su decepci贸n ante la desaparici贸n de los amigos (鈥淭uve una especie de vah铆do que hizo que viera triple a cada transe煤nte, cada cara, cada coche. Comprendo que la gente se hubiese podido re铆r de mi emoci贸n. Nada de lo que hab铆a pasado hubiera conmocionado a otro que no fuera yo鈥� . Soy demasiado sensible. Eso es todo.鈥�) pero sigue adelante en el fondo aliviado, aunque autocompadeci茅ndose, siempre.
鈥淯na nube ocult贸 el sol. La calle templada se volvi贸 gris. Las moscas dejaron de brillar.
Me sent铆 triste.
Acababa de salir hacia lo desconocido con la ilusi贸n de ser un vagabundo, libre y feliz. Y ahora, por culpe de una nube, se hab铆a echado todo a perder.
Volv铆 sobre mis pasos.鈥�
Busca el amor pero solo tiene sexo casual en aventuras de una noche鈥�
鈥淟as mujeres aparecieron por fin. Las cont茅. Eran siete.
Sus cortos vestidos desped铆an ese olor de vicio y de miseria que desprenden los trajes de lentejuelas con que visten a los mu帽ecos de cera expuestos en museos extranjeros.
Ten铆an una tez p谩lida y brillante de mu帽eca de cart贸n. Los dedos llenos de anillos relucientes, alineados.鈥�
La novela est谩 dividida en una serie de cap铆tulos que funcionan como relatos cada uno de ellos llevando el nombre de ese amigo encontrado casualmente pero nunca conservado. Victor se ve como una v铆ctima del mundo, de la guerra, de los dem谩s, aunque inconscientemente ha hecho sus elecciones. Emmanuel Bove no se anda con rodeos, aqu铆 no hay met谩foras, ni adjetivos rimbombantes, no hay un estilismo llamativo y sin embargo, el secreto de su estilazo puede estar en esas frases cortas, en ese humanismo siempre presente, en c贸mo transmite el movimiento de las calles por las que deambula Victor, el ruido, los encuentros, los apartamentos desolados, las habitaciones en las que solo le queda mirar por la ventana.
鈥淣o cab铆a duda de que me quer铆a y me comprend铆a.
隆Son tan raros los que me quieren un poco y me comprenden!"
El lector pronto se da cuenta de que Victor es un narrador poco confiable y quiz谩s aqu铆 pueda estar otro detalle de la f铆n铆sima sutilidad del estilo de Bove 驴c贸mo es posible que en un estilo tan minimalista, tan sencillo, de frases tan cortas, todav铆a puedan esconderse datos que hagan saltar la alarma en el lector de que Victor no es el que parece? Parece que quede poco espacio en este minimalismo para que Bove pueda esconder algo, pero s铆 lo hace, por eso la narraci贸n de Emmanuel Bove me ha encandilado. Historias de hombres grises hay muchas, pero el estilo de Bove es 煤nico, fresco, fluye casi sin esfuerzo. La novela fue escrita en 1924 y parece mentira, pero podr铆a ser una novela de ahora mismo por c贸mo Bove nos habla de la fugacidad del tiempo, de los encuentros y desencuentros, del desapego disfrazado de amistad. Una joyita.
鈥淪e acab贸. El sol no volver谩 a indicarme la hora en la pared. El enfermo que vive en mi descansillo se morir谩, quince d铆as despu茅s de mi partida, pues las novedades nunca vienen solas. Se repintar谩n algunas cosas. Los obreros reparar谩n el tejado.
Es curioso como cambia todo sin uno.鈥�
铀櫕铀� 铀櫕铀�
December 28, 2023
Emmanuel Bove's 1924 novel Mes amis was translated by Janet Louth, originally in 1986, but has recently been re-issued by NYRB Classics. The novel opens:
When I wake up, my mouth is open. My teeth are furry: it would be better to brush them in the evening, but I am never brave enough. Tears have dried at the corner of my eyes. My shoulders do not hurt any more. Some stiff hair covers my forehead. I spread my fingers and push it back. It is no good: like the pages of a new book it springs up and tumbles over my eyes again. When I bow my head I can feel that my beard has grown: it pricks my neck.
Our narrator, Victor B芒ton , is a first world war veteran, with a crippled left hand, living, in relative but not absolute poverty, on a 50% invalid's pension. His life is deliberately simple, living on meagre comforts so he doesn't have to work:
In that house full of working people. I was the madman that, deep down, everyone wanted to be. I was the one who went without food, the cinema, warm clothes, to be free. I was the one who, without meaning to, daily reminded people of their wretched state. People have not forgiven me for being free and for not being afraid of poverty.
But Victor craves one thing above everything else - friendship:
When you wander about all day without speaking to anyone, you feel so tired in your room in the evening.
and even when opportunities for conversation do arise, typically others take little interest in his rather pathetic figure:
Life is so miserable for someone who is alone and speaks only to those who take no interest in him.
Which makes him sympathetic to others in a similar situation, such as those that, 100 years ago as still today, are employed to hand out flyers in the street to typically disinterested passers-by:
I always accept what they offer me. I know that these men are not free until after they have distributed several thousand pieces of paper. People who pass contemptuously by these outstretched hands instead of taking what they have to offer annoy me.
The slim novel (150 pages) narrates the story of five of his 'friends', or at least five of his encounters that bore sufficient fruit to at least offer that hope. Yet typically Victor's pride limits his ability to accept charity from those in higher social classes, to befriend those he considers unworthy (one he lends money as a test to see how he spends it) or indeed make friends with a peer who then turns out to be, in some respect, in a more fortunate position than him. One promising acquaintance is nearly ended when the other man turns out to have a girlfriend:
We were not really friends. Somebody loved him.
with Victor's only hope that she is perhaps unattractive or has some other major fault (when she turns out to have a limp he can barely conceal his pleasure).
Brilliantly done - darkly humorous and also moving, bleak and yet hopeful. Recommended.
When I wake up, my mouth is open. My teeth are furry: it would be better to brush them in the evening, but I am never brave enough. Tears have dried at the corner of my eyes. My shoulders do not hurt any more. Some stiff hair covers my forehead. I spread my fingers and push it back. It is no good: like the pages of a new book it springs up and tumbles over my eyes again. When I bow my head I can feel that my beard has grown: it pricks my neck.
Our narrator, Victor B芒ton , is a first world war veteran, with a crippled left hand, living, in relative but not absolute poverty, on a 50% invalid's pension. His life is deliberately simple, living on meagre comforts so he doesn't have to work:
In that house full of working people. I was the madman that, deep down, everyone wanted to be. I was the one who went without food, the cinema, warm clothes, to be free. I was the one who, without meaning to, daily reminded people of their wretched state. People have not forgiven me for being free and for not being afraid of poverty.
But Victor craves one thing above everything else - friendship:
When you wander about all day without speaking to anyone, you feel so tired in your room in the evening.
and even when opportunities for conversation do arise, typically others take little interest in his rather pathetic figure:
Life is so miserable for someone who is alone and speaks only to those who take no interest in him.
Which makes him sympathetic to others in a similar situation, such as those that, 100 years ago as still today, are employed to hand out flyers in the street to typically disinterested passers-by:
I always accept what they offer me. I know that these men are not free until after they have distributed several thousand pieces of paper. People who pass contemptuously by these outstretched hands instead of taking what they have to offer annoy me.
The slim novel (150 pages) narrates the story of five of his 'friends', or at least five of his encounters that bore sufficient fruit to at least offer that hope. Yet typically Victor's pride limits his ability to accept charity from those in higher social classes, to befriend those he considers unworthy (one he lends money as a test to see how he spends it) or indeed make friends with a peer who then turns out to be, in some respect, in a more fortunate position than him. One promising acquaintance is nearly ended when the other man turns out to have a girlfriend:
We were not really friends. Somebody loved him.
with Victor's only hope that she is perhaps unattractive or has some other major fault (when she turns out to have a limp he can barely conceal his pleasure).
Brilliantly done - darkly humorous and also moving, bleak and yet hopeful. Recommended.
June 16, 2018
"Nesse pr茅dio de oper谩rios, eu era o louco que, no fundo, todos queriam ser. Era o que se privava de carne, de cinema, de l茫, para ser livre. Era o que, sem querer, lembrava todos os dias 脿s pessoas a sua condi莽茫o miser谩vel.
N茫o me perdoaram ser livre e n茫o temer a mis茅ria."
Victor B芒ton n茫o 茅 livre. 脡 escravo da sua necessidade de afecto.
Ele precisa de amor. N茫o de sexo para al铆vio.
Ele precisa de amigos. N茫o de piedade pela sua pobreza.
N茫o o incomoda o quarto frio e miser谩vel em que vive, nem os trapos velhos com que se cobre. Apenas lhe d贸i a solid茫o, fonte dos seus sonhos irrealiz谩veis...
B芒ton combateu na Primeira Guerra e dela saiu estropiado e impossibilitado de trabalhar. Recebe uma pens茫o que lhe permite apenas sobreviver. A sua vida resume-se a comer, dormir e deambular por Paris 脿 procura de algu茅m que lhe d锚 aten莽茫o, que lhe queira bem.
(Edvard Munch, Despair)
Os meus amigos foi publicado em 1924. Emmanuel Bove tinha 25 anos mas revelava j谩, al茅m de uma grande sensibilidade e capacidade de an谩lise do ser humano e meio envolvente, uma criatividade liter谩ria impressionante. As suas frases s茫o curtas - nada est谩 a mais ou a menos - mas de tal forma elaboradas que nos permitem visualizar de imediato o que a personagem v锚 e sente. Magn铆fico!
Como penso n茫o ter sido suficientemente convincente sobre o valor desta obra, deixo a cr铆tica liter谩ria que me deu a conhecer, e convenceu a ler, este romance:
N茫o me perdoaram ser livre e n茫o temer a mis茅ria."
Victor B芒ton n茫o 茅 livre. 脡 escravo da sua necessidade de afecto.
Ele precisa de amor. N茫o de sexo para al铆vio.
Ele precisa de amigos. N茫o de piedade pela sua pobreza.
N茫o o incomoda o quarto frio e miser谩vel em que vive, nem os trapos velhos com que se cobre. Apenas lhe d贸i a solid茫o, fonte dos seus sonhos irrealiz谩veis...
B芒ton combateu na Primeira Guerra e dela saiu estropiado e impossibilitado de trabalhar. Recebe uma pens茫o que lhe permite apenas sobreviver. A sua vida resume-se a comer, dormir e deambular por Paris 脿 procura de algu茅m que lhe d锚 aten莽茫o, que lhe queira bem.
(Edvard Munch, Despair)
"Quero ser o teu amigo. Nem demais e nem de menos.
Nem t茫o longe e nem t茫o perto.
Na medida mais precisa que eu puder.
Mas amar-te sem medida e ficar na tua vida,
Da maneira mais discreta que eu souber.
Sem tirar-te a liberdade, sem jamais te sufocar.
Sem for莽ar tua vontade.
Sem falar, quando for hora de calar.
E sem calar, quando for hora de falar.
Nem ausente, nem presente por demais.
Simplesmente, calmamente, ser-te paz.
脡 bonito ser amigo, mas confesso 茅 t茫o dif铆cil aprender!
E por isso eu te suplico paci锚ncia.
Vou encher este teu rosto de lembran莽as,
D谩-me tempo, de acertar nossas dist芒ncias鈥�"
鈥� Fernando Pessoa (Poema do amigo aprendiz)
Os meus amigos foi publicado em 1924. Emmanuel Bove tinha 25 anos mas revelava j谩, al茅m de uma grande sensibilidade e capacidade de an谩lise do ser humano e meio envolvente, uma criatividade liter谩ria impressionante. As suas frases s茫o curtas - nada est谩 a mais ou a menos - mas de tal forma elaboradas que nos permitem visualizar de imediato o que a personagem v锚 e sente. Magn铆fico!
Como penso n茫o ter sido suficientemente convincente sobre o valor desta obra, deixo a cr铆tica liter谩ria que me deu a conhecer, e convenceu a ler, este romance:
May 10, 2021
1. d眉nya sava艧谋ndan sonra ald谋臒谋 gazi maa艧谋yla ya艧amaya 莽al谋艧an victor鈥檜n yaln谋zl谋臒谋n谋 anlat谋yor kitap.
victor gen莽 ya艧谋na ra臒men sava艧a kat谋lm谋艧, hat谋rlamak istemedi臒i sava艧 an谋lar谋 var, 眉stelik ellerinden birini kaybetmi艧, kullanam谋yor ve paris鈥檛e yapayaln谋z hayalleriyle ya艧谋yor.
ya艧ad谋臒谋 daireyi, mahallesini betimledi臒i ilk b枚l眉m o kadar canl谋 ve i莽ten ki insan谋n kalbi yumu艧uyor.
ve arkada艧 bulabilmek u臒runa t眉m yapt谋klar谋na, salakl谋klar谋 dahil, bu yumu艧am谋艧 kalbimizden dolay谋 bir anne 艧efkatiyle yakla艧谋yoruz.
her g眉zel an谋n谋 melankolik d眉艧眉ncelerle mahvetmesi, garlarda, nehir k谋y谋lar谋nda ilgi 莽ekebilmek i莽in a臒l谋yor numaras谋 yapmas谋, sadece ate艧 istemek i莽in konu艧tu臒u insanlar谋n bile kendi hakk谋nda ne d眉艧眉nd眉臒眉n眉 枚nemsemesi o kadar gen莽li臒e, hatta ergenli臒e dair ki asl谋nda.
gencecik ve yapayaln谋z bir adam victor b芒ton. tek istedi臒i bir arkada艧谋 ve sevgilisi olmas谋. ama huysuz da, s谋n谋flara, davran谋艧lara, ki艧i zamirlerine dair 枚nyarg谋lar谋 var. kullanmak da kullan谋lmak da istemiyor ve bir t眉rl眉 艧ans y眉z眉ne g眉lm眉yor.
baz谋 romanlar iyi, edebi filan谋n 枚tesinde 鈥渢atl谋鈥� oluyor. 鈥渁rkada艧lar谋m鈥� da b枚yle. sade, i莽ten, herkese 19-20 ya艧谋n谋 hat谋rlatacak denli samimi. ve tabii arkada olanca 莽谋plakl谋臒谋yla fakirli臒i m眉thi艧 anlatm谋艧.
莽evirmen ebru erba艧 鈥渇ransa鈥檔谋n sait faik鈥檌鈥� diye tan谋mlad谋 bove鈥檡i, ger莽ekten 枚yle.
ve 莽ok iyi 莽eviri ki zaten ebru han谋m sayesinde g枚rd眉m bu kitab谋 ilk.
victor gen莽 ya艧谋na ra臒men sava艧a kat谋lm谋艧, hat谋rlamak istemedi臒i sava艧 an谋lar谋 var, 眉stelik ellerinden birini kaybetmi艧, kullanam谋yor ve paris鈥檛e yapayaln谋z hayalleriyle ya艧谋yor.
ya艧ad谋臒谋 daireyi, mahallesini betimledi臒i ilk b枚l眉m o kadar canl谋 ve i莽ten ki insan谋n kalbi yumu艧uyor.
ve arkada艧 bulabilmek u臒runa t眉m yapt谋klar谋na, salakl谋klar谋 dahil, bu yumu艧am谋艧 kalbimizden dolay谋 bir anne 艧efkatiyle yakla艧谋yoruz.
her g眉zel an谋n谋 melankolik d眉艧眉ncelerle mahvetmesi, garlarda, nehir k谋y谋lar谋nda ilgi 莽ekebilmek i莽in a臒l谋yor numaras谋 yapmas谋, sadece ate艧 istemek i莽in konu艧tu臒u insanlar谋n bile kendi hakk谋nda ne d眉艧眉nd眉臒眉n眉 枚nemsemesi o kadar gen莽li臒e, hatta ergenli臒e dair ki asl谋nda.
gencecik ve yapayaln谋z bir adam victor b芒ton. tek istedi臒i bir arkada艧谋 ve sevgilisi olmas谋. ama huysuz da, s谋n谋flara, davran谋艧lara, ki艧i zamirlerine dair 枚nyarg谋lar谋 var. kullanmak da kullan谋lmak da istemiyor ve bir t眉rl眉 艧ans y眉z眉ne g眉lm眉yor.
baz谋 romanlar iyi, edebi filan谋n 枚tesinde 鈥渢atl谋鈥� oluyor. 鈥渁rkada艧lar谋m鈥� da b枚yle. sade, i莽ten, herkese 19-20 ya艧谋n谋 hat谋rlatacak denli samimi. ve tabii arkada olanca 莽谋plakl谋臒谋yla fakirli臒i m眉thi艧 anlatm谋艧.
莽evirmen ebru erba艧 鈥渇ransa鈥檔谋n sait faik鈥檌鈥� diye tan谋mlad谋 bove鈥檡i, ger莽ekten 枚yle.
ve 莽ok iyi 莽eviri ki zaten ebru han谋m sayesinde g枚rd眉m bu kitab谋 ilk.
July 4, 2012
Yes. Hell and expletive yes. As ever, other reviewers have capably articulated my thoughts for me, so there鈥檚 no reason to read this when you can read Geoff Wilt, Knig-o-lass, Jimmy, Adam Florida and Mark Zero鈥檚 fine reviews. I won鈥檛 provide links, since they鈥檙e easily findable by looking above (or below) this sparse paragraph. All I can say is: heartbreaking and melancholy, perfectly realised, the real deal. Universal. Read it. But don鈥檛 listen to after.
January 6, 2016
'Is mijn leven dan zo abnormaal dat het de wereld aanstoot geeft? Ik kan het niet geloven.'
Sublieme roman over eenzaamheid, pijn en vervreemding, maar ook de wil om te leven en de moeizame zoektocht naar verlossing en loutering. Korte, krachtige zinnen die met slechts enkele subtiele wendingen en een verbluffend oog (en oor!) voor details een van intensiteit huiverend en zinderend universum vol duisternis en wanhoop oproepen. Knappe vertaling van Ang猫le Manteau.
Sublieme roman over eenzaamheid, pijn en vervreemding, maar ook de wil om te leven en de moeizame zoektocht naar verlossing en loutering. Korte, krachtige zinnen die met slechts enkele subtiele wendingen en een verbluffend oog (en oor!) voor details een van intensiteit huiverend en zinderend universum vol duisternis en wanhoop oproepen. Knappe vertaling van Ang猫le Manteau.
February 18, 2015
Solitude, what a sad and beautiful thing it is! How beautiful when we choose it! How sad when it is forced upon us year after year!
Some strong men are not lonely when they are alone, but I, who am weak, am lonely when I have no friends.
It is my inside thought, that Marieling voice that's white lonely, that he wanted to be alone. What would he have left if he settled his light dust? Would his spirits soar ever higher, new glass sky shards, past changing atmosphere windows, heavenly doors. Baton is the buy the cheapest, making it last longer when he should have lived once. He is eating in one bite when he should have savoured the taste of warmth. He will always be wrong. It was perfect how he doesn't sing the songs from his childhood. When will good be with him? Bad spoils places forever. I really get doing this. I am scared of not being able to listen to a favorite song because it reminds me of times too miserable to face again. Did you see the scar on his hand? It was from the war. Head lowered, the hung dog's face. Secret's pretty girls are backs to his stage. Baton is like walking around in a Baton movie in his mind. Sometimes he is the rags to rich story. The beautiful love interest will sweep him off his feet. Bring boxes of kleenex to this double feature. Baton the penurious prince. A friend on his arm, castaway changes, aren't reading their cues. Once more, with feeling. Do you have ten francs I can borrow? Their life beaten faces throb their own drum paths. Baton follows this benefactor's teenage daughter home from school. By this time I knew Baton so well I knew he was going to do it. You fuck up, you pervert. I just wanted.... This sad face cannot relate in an inside stillborn thought. Why don't you want to die too, Baton? It's easier if you're on my dead arm. The death-wish walks on the pity-party into a bar, a whore house instead. So the suicidal can't be bought any more than ten franc man. Bove is amazing in Baton's private thoughts a parallel world to the worlds of his "friends". Go swimming in the fat benefactor's likes to see himself as the benefactor. He wasn't as good, though. How they like to see themselves wasn't as good as the sick wanting something good to happen underneath that Baton and the suicidal bargeman had. I could live a long time on these details. The soup kitchen run by his one-night mistress Lucie will set aside their portion if they don't show up for a meal. Baton knows this and won't know that he has friends. Trembling kisses, love time voices. Slipping out in the night. When he always leaves them there.... If he had kept that job, tipped the concierge, didn't lose the room he had. Where he had avoided whenever possible to go into the streets where the good was going to happen to him one day. What would he do with himself if he weren't dreaming the streets? Being on the move makes dreaming come true. I didn't think it was that important that he was above the tramps in his own mind. His army pension to buy coffee and wine would doubtless make him so in the minds of those in lighted doorways. If he were staring out a work window he would rise another notch or two above where he is and that would be it. Something I've tried to remember in my life is that other people don't notice/don't think that much about me. Baton is the person that is thinking all of those nasty things someone afraid of people would cross the street. If he's basing others on himself that would explain a lot. I was fascinated with the slipping through. The young girl looks like girls kissing horses in postcards. If you were an out of this world impostor you would disappear if a girl like that looked at you. Their other-world can take away from this one. His clothes are more than clothes, an intimate stain. Knowledge of creases wear him. Do they know what he is thinking? What else could escape him? I thought it was going to be super important to me his longing for a dream-friend. I might have stopped believing in that. When you're with other people you're trivial to their true lives. The only thing to do is to have one of your own. He's sinking further into the ground past where other people are too. He's sold his furniture. So it's good I believe he's crossing the universe to make his half-life in the half-light. The dream of a dream is the friend he wants. It hurts because that he is doing right. He's doing it wrong because the ten franc man and his crippled girlfriend are more alive than the gratitude. He's doing it right because they don't need him for anything more than ten francs. The real world doors are closing and keep going, your friend is right around the black white corner....
In my imagination I see sailors and girls dancing together, little flags, motionless ships with sails furled.
These thoughts do not last.
I know the wharves of Paris too well: only for a moment do they look like the misty cities of my dreams.
September 17, 2024
脟ok etkileyici bir roman. Harika betimlemeler ve psikolojik analizlere dayanan tan谋mlamalar var. Ak谋c谋 ve s眉r眉kleyici, e臒lenceli bir metin. Duygulanarak ve g眉l眉mseyerek okudum.
Uzun zaman, umudu gelece臒e ba臒lam谋艧 olanlar谋n hikayesinde (sf; 149) hepimiz biraz kendimizi bulaca臒谋z.
脟ok be臒endim.
Yazar谋 tan谋mak mutluluk verici.
鈥溾€eni seviyorum, dedim ona. G眉ld眉, tipsiz ve yoksul oldu臒umdan ku艧kusuz. 鈥︹€�, sf; 10.
Uzun zaman, umudu gelece臒e ba臒lam谋艧 olanlar谋n hikayesinde (sf; 149) hepimiz biraz kendimizi bulaca臒谋z.
脟ok be臒endim.
Yazar谋 tan谋mak mutluluk verici.
鈥溾€eni seviyorum, dedim ona. G眉ld眉, tipsiz ve yoksul oldu臒umdan ku艧kusuz. 鈥︹€�, sf; 10.
March 17, 2024
Ay ya Victor B芒ton, seni kucaklamak istedim, k谋yamam sana. Emmanuel Bove'un ilk roman谋 Arkada艧lar谋m, asl谋nda hi莽 arkada艧谋 olmayan ve tek derdi az谋c谋k sevilmek olan sava艧 gazisi Victor B芒ton'un orada burada tan谋艧t谋臒谋 ki艧ilerle kurmaya 莽al谋艧t谋臒谋 ili艧kileri anlatt谋臒谋 bir k眉莽眉k roman. Sava艧ta tek eli sakatland谋臒谋 i莽in 莽al谋艧amayan, devletin ba臒lad谋臒谋 gazi maa艧谋yla tuttu臒u tek g枚z odada ya艧ayan B芒ton, sokaklarda gezip birileriyle tan谋艧maya ve ili艧ki kurmaya 莽al谋艧谋yor, biz de onun a臒z谋ndan "arkada艧lar谋n谋" dinliyoruz.
Kitab谋 kapat谋nca sordu臒um soruyu buraya da b谋rakay谋m: Bu nas谋l bir g枚zlem g眉c眉d眉r ya sevgili Emmanuel Bove? Kendimi Victor B芒ton kadar 莽aresiz ve yaln谋z hissetmedim hayatta hi莽bir zaman, 艧ansl谋y谋m, ama tarif etti臒i baz谋 duygular o kadar, o kadar tan谋d谋k ki! Baz谋 艧eyleri birinin fark edece臒ini umarak yapma h芒li, baz谋 "gibi yapma"lar, insan谋n kendini 枚nemli hissetmek i莽in giri艧ti臒i tuhafl谋klar, kimi zaman hissetti臒imiz o kuvvetli ihtiya莽 duyulma ihtiyac谋... Of. Nas谋l bildik duygular. Herkesin, bu kitapta tarif edilen hislerin pek 莽o臒unu deneyimledi臒ine eminim. 艦imdi de臒ilse de ilk gen莽li臒inizde muhakkak bu ait olamama halini ya艧am谋艧s谋n谋zd谋r bence, aksi d眉艧眉n眉lemez!
Anlat谋m谋z Victor B芒ton sahiden 艧efkat uyand谋r谋yor insanda ama sadece umutsuz bir iyilik timsali de臒il kendisi, yazar谋n gayet inceden sezdirdi臒i bir kibri de var. 脟aresizli臒inin bir k谋sm谋 枚臒renilmi艧 莽aresizlik, bir k谋sm谋 melankoliye duydu臒u heves evet, hatta insan zaman zaman d眉艧眉n眉yor, 莽ok istedi臒i gibi zengin olsa iddia etti臒i kadar verici ve iyi olur muydu diye, muhtemelen hay谋r, zira kendini kand谋rmay谋 iyi beceren biri o ama yine de yoksullu臒unu ve yaln谋zl谋臒谋n谋 枚fke i莽inde de臒il de bir 莽ocuk gibi kar艧谋lamas谋, umutsuzlu臒unun i莽inden s眉rekli yeni umutlar dev艧irmesi, yer yer ola臒an眉st眉 naifle艧ebilmesi filan, yukar谋da bahsetti臒im 枚rt眉l眉 kibre ra臒men insanda 艧efkat uyand谋r谋yor.
脟ok, 莽ok sevdim ya, kalbimi ok艧ad谋 resmen. Bu kitab谋 Brenda Lozano, 陌deal Defter'de bahsetti臒i i莽in alm谋艧t谋m, iyi ki alm谋艧谋m. Ba艧ka kitaplar谋n kap谋s谋n谋 aralayan kitaplar ve edebiyat谋n i莽inde yolculuk etmenin heyecan谋 莽ok ya艧as谋n.
Kitab谋 kapat谋nca sordu臒um soruyu buraya da b谋rakay谋m: Bu nas谋l bir g枚zlem g眉c眉d眉r ya sevgili Emmanuel Bove? Kendimi Victor B芒ton kadar 莽aresiz ve yaln谋z hissetmedim hayatta hi莽bir zaman, 艧ansl谋y谋m, ama tarif etti臒i baz谋 duygular o kadar, o kadar tan谋d谋k ki! Baz谋 艧eyleri birinin fark edece臒ini umarak yapma h芒li, baz谋 "gibi yapma"lar, insan谋n kendini 枚nemli hissetmek i莽in giri艧ti臒i tuhafl谋klar, kimi zaman hissetti臒imiz o kuvvetli ihtiya莽 duyulma ihtiyac谋... Of. Nas谋l bildik duygular. Herkesin, bu kitapta tarif edilen hislerin pek 莽o臒unu deneyimledi臒ine eminim. 艦imdi de臒ilse de ilk gen莽li臒inizde muhakkak bu ait olamama halini ya艧am谋艧s谋n谋zd谋r bence, aksi d眉艧眉n眉lemez!
Anlat谋m谋z Victor B芒ton sahiden 艧efkat uyand谋r谋yor insanda ama sadece umutsuz bir iyilik timsali de臒il kendisi, yazar谋n gayet inceden sezdirdi臒i bir kibri de var. 脟aresizli臒inin bir k谋sm谋 枚臒renilmi艧 莽aresizlik, bir k谋sm谋 melankoliye duydu臒u heves evet, hatta insan zaman zaman d眉艧眉n眉yor, 莽ok istedi臒i gibi zengin olsa iddia etti臒i kadar verici ve iyi olur muydu diye, muhtemelen hay谋r, zira kendini kand谋rmay谋 iyi beceren biri o ama yine de yoksullu臒unu ve yaln谋zl谋臒谋n谋 枚fke i莽inde de臒il de bir 莽ocuk gibi kar艧谋lamas谋, umutsuzlu臒unun i莽inden s眉rekli yeni umutlar dev艧irmesi, yer yer ola臒an眉st眉 naifle艧ebilmesi filan, yukar谋da bahsetti臒im 枚rt眉l眉 kibre ra臒men insanda 艧efkat uyand谋r谋yor.
脟ok, 莽ok sevdim ya, kalbimi ok艧ad谋 resmen. Bu kitab谋 Brenda Lozano, 陌deal Defter'de bahsetti臒i i莽in alm谋艧t谋m, iyi ki alm谋艧谋m. Ba艧ka kitaplar谋n kap谋s谋n谋 aralayan kitaplar ve edebiyat谋n i莽inde yolculuk etmenin heyecan谋 莽ok ya艧as谋n.
February 23, 2019
H谩 um humor triste e um sarcasmo subtil neste livro de Bove (o 煤nico que dele conhe莽o) que se alinha na perfei莽茫o com a personagem e as suas pequenas hist贸rias. Todas as seis hist贸rias andam em redor de uma mesma coisa (a procura desesperada por um amigo, um que seja), mas ainda assim Bove n茫o nos cansa. Bove apresenta-nos um personagem brilhantemente constru铆do que, na sua procura de algo essencial, se revela (ou se torna) pat茅tico e mesquinho. N茫o seremos todos por vezes assim?
November 3, 2022
m眉thi艧 kitap. karakterimiz victor baton I. d眉nya sava艧谋 sonras谋 paris'inde 枚zg眉rl眉臒眉n眉n tad谋n谋 莽谋kar谋rken insanlar taraf谋ndan fark edilmek, de臒er g枚rmek ister; tabii bir de t眉m benli臒ini sunabilece臒i bir arkada艧谋 olmas谋n谋. g眉ndelik hayat谋n ak谋艧谋 i莽inde yemek yedi臒i restoranda, bazen bir meydanda, seine nehrinin k谋y谋s谋nda kar艧谋la艧t谋臒谋 insanlarla etkile艧ime girmekten 莽ekinmez. bazen s谋rf biri gelsin de neyi oldu臒unu merak etsin diye a臒l谋yormu艧 gibi yapt谋臒谋n谋 anlatt谋臒谋 bir yer var. bunu yaparken de bakan, fark eden var m谋 diye tek g枚z眉yle 莽evresini kontrol etmeyi unutmuyor tabii.
kendine dair alg谋s谋 m眉thi艧 y眉ksek biri baton. hangi durumda nas谋l davran谋laca臒谋na dair ger莽ekten belli ba艧l谋 kal谋plar谋 var ve biri buna uygun davranmayadursun can谋 inan谋lmaz s谋k谋l谋yor ve o hayal k谋r谋kl谋臒谋 biz okuyucuya da 莽ok ama 莽ok iyi ge莽iyor. i莽inde bulundu臒u s谋n谋fa dair de hassasiyetleri var. bir de m眉thi艧 tak谋nt谋l谋 biri. o tak谋nt谋lar谋n谋, detaylar谋 olduk莽a ba艧ar谋l谋 buldum ve 莽ok sevdim.
okumaya ba艧lad谋臒谋mda ger莽ekten kalbimi yumu艧ac谋k yapacak bir roman okuyormu艧 d眉艧眉ncesiyle devam ediyordum. kitab谋 bitirdi臒imde ise 莽ok farkl谋 d眉艧眉n眉yorum. victor baton'un hikayesi yaln谋z hayat谋na anlam katma aray谋艧谋 de臒ildi. onun zaten ayaklar谋 yere basan bir anlam d眉nyas谋 vard谋 ve yaln谋zl谋k bir anlamda onun tercihiydi diye d眉艧眉n眉yorum.
kendine dair alg谋s谋 m眉thi艧 y眉ksek biri baton. hangi durumda nas谋l davran谋laca臒谋na dair ger莽ekten belli ba艧l谋 kal谋plar谋 var ve biri buna uygun davranmayadursun can谋 inan谋lmaz s谋k谋l谋yor ve o hayal k谋r谋kl谋臒谋 biz okuyucuya da 莽ok ama 莽ok iyi ge莽iyor. i莽inde bulundu臒u s谋n谋fa dair de hassasiyetleri var. bir de m眉thi艧 tak谋nt谋l谋 biri. o tak谋nt谋lar谋n谋, detaylar谋 olduk莽a ba艧ar谋l谋 buldum ve 莽ok sevdim.
okumaya ba艧lad谋臒谋mda ger莽ekten kalbimi yumu艧ac谋k yapacak bir roman okuyormu艧 d眉艧眉ncesiyle devam ediyordum. kitab谋 bitirdi臒imde ise 莽ok farkl谋 d眉艧眉n眉yorum. victor baton'un hikayesi yaln谋z hayat谋na anlam katma aray谋艧谋 de臒ildi. onun zaten ayaklar谋 yere basan bir anlam d眉nyas谋 vard谋 ve yaln谋zl谋k bir anlamda onun tercihiydi diye d眉艧眉n眉yorum.
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November 5, 2023A colleague recently called my attention to the word neurodivergent, apparently the now politically correct description for those who are . . . different, as me. Victor B芒ton, then, is neurodivergent. Were he in counseling today, a file would likely exist under lock somewhere containing the crisp, handwritten remark Personality Disorder of Unknown Etiology, underlined. Wounded in the First World War, he is unable to form lasting relationships in this brief novel. Was he this way before the war? We don鈥檛 know. We do know he experiences a deep feeling of loneliness. He survives on a modest disability pension, but lives on the edge. It seems he always will, for that is his destiny. I thought of the effect loneliness has had in my life; some of my worst decisions were a consequence of that feeling. M. Bove wrote, 鈥淪ome strong men are not lonely when they are alone, but I, who am weak, am lonely when I have no friends.鈥� I agree.
September 19, 2019
Jesus this book hit a bit too close to home. The way in which Emmanuel Bove is able to place us within the mind of someone crippled by meekness, incessant solitude, and an inward sense of superiority is...at first hilarious...but a guttural sense of sadness starts to creep into the cracks. The book also sports a wonderfully sparse style of prose, which is slyly economical in its detail. The quality of the description is shone to be far greater than the quantity etcetc. Highly recommended. I'd say more...But it's 2am. Victor just wants a friend. And a mistress. Don't we all!!
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