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تدفین پارتی
آگوست ۱۹۹۱، آپارتمانی بی‌دروپیک� در نیویورک. آلیک نقاش روسِ مهاجر رو به احتضار است. حواریون او گردهم آمده‌اند� هیچ‌کدا� نتوانسته‌ان� آلیک را از زندگی‌‌شا� کنار بگذارند. حالا همه� این زنان و مردان مهاجر، کنار بستر مرگ نقاش محبوب حاضرند، تلویزیون تانک‌ه� را در مسکو نشان میده� و این تصویر آناتومی مهاجران را کامل می‌کن�. بوریس یلتسین جلوی دوربین‌ها� تلویزیونی ظاهر شده، شوروی می‌خواه� به دنیا روی خوش نشان بدهد. و تماشاچی‌ه� پای تلویزیون، اینجا در نیویورک، هنوز از مسکو دل نکنده‌ان� و بالای سر محتضری در جست‌وجو� راهی برای ادامه دادن هستند.
168 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1999
60 people are currently reading
2,452 people want to read
About the author
Lyudmila Ulitskaya
133books969followersRussian profile here Людмила Улицкая
Lyudmila Ulitskaya is a critically acclaimed modern Russian novelist and short-story writer. She was born in the town of Davlekanovo in Bashkiria in 1943. She grew up in Moscow where she studied biology at the Moscow State University.
Having worked in the field of genetics and biochemistry, Ulitskaya began her literary career by joining the Jewish drama theatre as a literary consultant. She was the author of two movie scripts produced in the early 1990s � The Liberty Sisters (Сестрички Либерти, 1990) and A Woman for All (Женщина для всех, 1991).
Ulitskaya's first novel Sonechka (Сонечка) published in Novy Mir in 1992 almost immediately became extremely popular, and was shortlisted for the Russian Booker Award. Nowadays her works are much admired by the reading public and critics in Russia and many other countries. Her works have been translated into several languages and received several international and Russian literary awards, including the Russian Booker for Kukotsky's Case (2001). Lyudmila Ulitskaya currently resides in Moscow. Ulitskaya's works have been translated into many foreign languages. In Germany her novels have been added to bestseller list thanks to features of her works in a television program hosted by literary critic Elke Heidenreich.
Lyudmila Ulitskaya is a critically acclaimed modern Russian novelist and short-story writer. She was born in the town of Davlekanovo in Bashkiria in 1943. She grew up in Moscow where she studied biology at the Moscow State University.
Having worked in the field of genetics and biochemistry, Ulitskaya began her literary career by joining the Jewish drama theatre as a literary consultant. She was the author of two movie scripts produced in the early 1990s � The Liberty Sisters (Сестрички Либерти, 1990) and A Woman for All (Женщина для всех, 1991).
Ulitskaya's first novel Sonechka (Сонечка) published in Novy Mir in 1992 almost immediately became extremely popular, and was shortlisted for the Russian Booker Award. Nowadays her works are much admired by the reading public and critics in Russia and many other countries. Her works have been translated into several languages and received several international and Russian literary awards, including the Russian Booker for Kukotsky's Case (2001). Lyudmila Ulitskaya currently resides in Moscow. Ulitskaya's works have been translated into many foreign languages. In Germany her novels have been added to bestseller list thanks to features of her works in a television program hosted by literary critic Elke Heidenreich.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 202 reviews
April 14, 2017
Something unusual occurred to me as I was turning the pages of this novel: I was basking in the simple, unflowery storytelling, relishing the tenderness that the oddly arranged mosaic of characters arose in me, and devouring page after page in spite of having figured out exactly where and when the pieces of the disarranged puzzle of facts, timelines and crisscrossed stories would inevitably converge. Solving the key aspects of the plot didn’t diminish the glee of savoring a book that couldn’t have been improved in any way. Every word counted, every brief digression polished the rough edges of a rather austere prose, every sketchy scene added layers of meaning that didn’t need to be fully articulated because there were vast universes to be found in Luydmila’s tribute to life, death and love.
Everything in this book happens between the lines.
Greenwish village, New York. Alik is an emigrated Russian painter who sees the last days of his life ebbing away due to a degenerative illness that has him prostrated in bed. Surrounded by a weird assortment of acquaintances and close friends, doctors and quacks, wife and lovers, in his scruffy hovel, he cherishes every second he has left, feeling deeply grateful for the little time he’s been granted to reconcile past mistakes that could have changed the lives of those he loves from afar.
The occasion of Alik’s dying becomes a meeting point for exiles, expatriated, rampant eccentrics, a Catholic priest and a rabbi, all of whom find common comfort in their sincere appreciation for the moribund man, transforming quite unexpectedly a funeral into a spontaneous party that celebrates the existence of art, music and life. It also provides the opportunity Alik has unknowingly been waiting for; his last chance to put into words what he’s kept silent for too many years.
What is it that makes a person impossible to resist?
How can one explain the magnetic pull, the charisma that surrounds certain people? Alik manages to build a family, as unorthodox as it may be, wherever he is. He might seek solitude sometimes, but is never lonely. Women flutter around him like moths to a flame, burning themselves to death, setting the different stages of Alik’s life.
It’s precisely through Luydmilla’s portrayal of these female characters that the reader gets to know the painter’s boundless capacity to love everything and everybody, to realize that his cup overflows with passion, with vitality, with a captivating zest for life, that his expansive personality is so contagious that he becomes the sun others can’t help but orbit around.
But who is Alik’s most precious star?
As the last vestiges of the Soviet Union crumble down and Alik’s following watch the historical events unfold on his TV, he closes his eyes slowly, hearing the soothing background commotion, and finally allows the wondrous tide of warmth to engulf him into placid oblivion. In his mind, he mutters the name of his true love. In his lips flickers the smile of an innocent child, and this reader closes the book and stares at the wall for a while, seeing everything very clearly.
Everything in this book happens between the lines.
Greenwish village, New York. Alik is an emigrated Russian painter who sees the last days of his life ebbing away due to a degenerative illness that has him prostrated in bed. Surrounded by a weird assortment of acquaintances and close friends, doctors and quacks, wife and lovers, in his scruffy hovel, he cherishes every second he has left, feeling deeply grateful for the little time he’s been granted to reconcile past mistakes that could have changed the lives of those he loves from afar.
The occasion of Alik’s dying becomes a meeting point for exiles, expatriated, rampant eccentrics, a Catholic priest and a rabbi, all of whom find common comfort in their sincere appreciation for the moribund man, transforming quite unexpectedly a funeral into a spontaneous party that celebrates the existence of art, music and life. It also provides the opportunity Alik has unknowingly been waiting for; his last chance to put into words what he’s kept silent for too many years.
What is it that makes a person impossible to resist?
How can one explain the magnetic pull, the charisma that surrounds certain people? Alik manages to build a family, as unorthodox as it may be, wherever he is. He might seek solitude sometimes, but is never lonely. Women flutter around him like moths to a flame, burning themselves to death, setting the different stages of Alik’s life.
It’s precisely through Luydmilla’s portrayal of these female characters that the reader gets to know the painter’s boundless capacity to love everything and everybody, to realize that his cup overflows with passion, with vitality, with a captivating zest for life, that his expansive personality is so contagious that he becomes the sun others can’t help but orbit around.
But who is Alik’s most precious star?
As the last vestiges of the Soviet Union crumble down and Alik’s following watch the historical events unfold on his TV, he closes his eyes slowly, hearing the soothing background commotion, and finally allows the wondrous tide of warmth to engulf him into placid oblivion. In his mind, he mutters the name of his true love. In his lips flickers the smile of an innocent child, and this reader closes the book and stares at the wall for a while, seeing everything very clearly.
March 26, 2024
تدفین پارتی ، کتابی ایست از لودمیلا اولیتسکایا ، نویسنده روس . او در این کتاب به بهانه داستان فردی رو به موت ، به مهاجران روس ساکن نیویورک که در زمان رژیم کمونیستی از کشور خود آواره و به آمریکا آمده اند پرداخته .
ارغوان می‌بینی�
به تماشاگه ویرانی ما آمده‌اند�
مانند کتاب چادر سبز بزرگ ، شخصیت های کتاب اولیتسکایا ، بیشتر یهودیان روس هستند که به دین و آیین خود اعتقادی چندان ندارند . آنان هم مانند بیشتر مهاجران ، دست کم در سال های اول نتوانسته اند با جامعه میزبان ، ارتباط چندانی بگیرند ، از این رو در دل جامعه آمریکا ، اجتماع خود ، یعنی جامعه روسهای مهاجر را ساخته اند . این گروه مهاجر ، معمولا حرفه و کار درستی ندارند و رزق حداقلی خود را با کارهایی مانند نمایش ، سیرک و یا نقاشی در پارک به دست می آورند .
داستان خانم نویسنده از جایی آغاز می شود که دوستان و آشنایان فردی که در آستانه مرگ است به خانه او می آیند . اولیتسکایا این گونه رابطه افراد مختلف با فرد رو به موت را بیان کرده و زندگی آنان در روسیه را هم شرح مختصری می دهد . او این گونه خواننده را هم با محیط مهاجران و هم با زندگی گذشته آنان آشنا می کند . بیشتر داستان او در آپارتمان فرد محتضر می گذرد ، آپارتمانی که ضیافتی برای مرگ یا همان تدفین پارتی را به خاطر خواننده می آورد . این گونه افرادی که بدون دعوت و برای خداحافظی آخر به آن جا آمده اند ، رفتن او به سوی مرگ را نظاره می کنند .
ارغوانم آن جاست ، ارغوانم تنهاست ...
اما نمی توان کتاب اولیتسکایا را تنها محدود و مربوط به یک تدفین پارتی دانست . داستان او همزمان شده با سقوط رژیم کمونیستی و رژه تانک ها در مسکو . احساساتی که روسهای مهاجر به اوضاع پریشان وطن دارند ترکیبی از دلتنگی و تکدر است . وطنی که با آنها چندان مهربان هم نبوده . شاید بتوان این گونه نتیجه گرفت که هدف اولیتسکایا نشان دادن دو ضیافت مرگ بوده ، هم مرگ آلیک و هم مرگ وطن .
تدفین پارتی را اگرچه نمی توان یک شاهکار دانست ، اما آن را به خاطر طیف وسیعی از احساسات که البته بیشتر برای ما آشنا هستند باید ستود .
ارغوان می‌بینی�
به تماشاگه ویرانی ما آمده‌اند�
مانند کتاب چادر سبز بزرگ ، شخصیت های کتاب اولیتسکایا ، بیشتر یهودیان روس هستند که به دین و آیین خود اعتقادی چندان ندارند . آنان هم مانند بیشتر مهاجران ، دست کم در سال های اول نتوانسته اند با جامعه میزبان ، ارتباط چندانی بگیرند ، از این رو در دل جامعه آمریکا ، اجتماع خود ، یعنی جامعه روسهای مهاجر را ساخته اند . این گروه مهاجر ، معمولا حرفه و کار درستی ندارند و رزق حداقلی خود را با کارهایی مانند نمایش ، سیرک و یا نقاشی در پارک به دست می آورند .
داستان خانم نویسنده از جایی آغاز می شود که دوستان و آشنایان فردی که در آستانه مرگ است به خانه او می آیند . اولیتسکایا این گونه رابطه افراد مختلف با فرد رو به موت را بیان کرده و زندگی آنان در روسیه را هم شرح مختصری می دهد . او این گونه خواننده را هم با محیط مهاجران و هم با زندگی گذشته آنان آشنا می کند . بیشتر داستان او در آپارتمان فرد محتضر می گذرد ، آپارتمانی که ضیافتی برای مرگ یا همان تدفین پارتی را به خاطر خواننده می آورد . این گونه افرادی که بدون دعوت و برای خداحافظی آخر به آن جا آمده اند ، رفتن او به سوی مرگ را نظاره می کنند .
ارغوانم آن جاست ، ارغوانم تنهاست ...
اما نمی توان کتاب اولیتسکایا را تنها محدود و مربوط به یک تدفین پارتی دانست . داستان او همزمان شده با سقوط رژیم کمونیستی و رژه تانک ها در مسکو . احساساتی که روسهای مهاجر به اوضاع پریشان وطن دارند ترکیبی از دلتنگی و تکدر است . وطنی که با آنها چندان مهربان هم نبوده . شاید بتوان این گونه نتیجه گرفت که هدف اولیتسکایا نشان دادن دو ضیافت مرگ بوده ، هم مرگ آلیک و هم مرگ وطن .
تدفین پارتی را اگرچه نمی توان یک شاهکار دانست ، اما آن را به خاطر طیف وسیعی از احساسات که البته بیشتر برای ما آشنا هستند باید ستود .
February 20, 2019
Translation widget on the blog!!!
O privire in lumea femeilor: agitata, vocală și dezinhibată, privită prin ochii unui bărbat pe moarte. Alik este personajul principal. Un personaj ca si inexistent. Si totuși, foarte important.
Recenzia mea completa o găsiți aici:
O privire in lumea femeilor: agitata, vocală și dezinhibată, privită prin ochii unui bărbat pe moarte. Alik este personajul principal. Un personaj ca si inexistent. Si totuși, foarte important.
Recenzia mea completa o găsiți aici:
August 22, 2022
ماذا تتوقع أن يحدث عندما تجتمع جالية روسية يهودية في نيويورك؟ ستكون هناك حفلة جنازة، أو جنازة مرحة حسب الترجمة العربية لعنوان الرواية.
ها هي أخيراً رواية روسية حديثة، لا تتحدث عن الإقطاع ولا عن الثورة الحمراء ولا عن معتقلات السوفييت. كما أن الكاتب ليس صاحب وجه متجهم ولحية شهباء، بل سيدة تدعى لودميلا، امتشقت قلمها لتحدثنا عن هموم أخرى، منها الغربة وتنوع العلاقات ومعنى الحياة والموت، وقيمة الفرد في مجتمعه.
يوشك الفنان آليك على مغادرة هذا العالم، فيتجمع حوله أهله وأحباؤه بينما هو كأدبه يسعى إلى تلطيف الموقف والاستمتاع بحياته حتى آخر رمق.
الشخصيات مثيرة للاهتمام ما بين آليك المنفتح على الحياة والبشر، الذي يستلطفه الجميع مهما كان بلغت به قلة الاكتراث، زوجته الهستيرية التي تغرق في شبر من الماء، الصديقة المتخصصة بالعلاجات الشعبية والمراهقة المتمردة التي تخفي طناً من العاطفة. أجواء الرواية بديعة، ما بين شوارع نيويورك التي تعج بشتى أشكال الحياة والشقة المتخمة بالأصدقاء من مختلف المشارب.
أما نبرة الرواية فهي الكوميديا السوداء، تطرح أفكاراً عميقة دون إثارة زوابع. أجمل ما في الرواية هي الحوارات التي تكشف دواخل الشخصيات وتبين معدنها. هنا وهناك بعض المنعطفات المشوقة في السرد، ولكن الحبكة هادئة بصفة عامة.
رواية سلسة وقصيرة، مناسبة لمن يقتفون خطوات الأدب الروسي الذي قد يبدو وكأنه تلاشى دون أثر.
ها هي أخيراً رواية روسية حديثة، لا تتحدث عن الإقطاع ولا عن الثورة الحمراء ولا عن معتقلات السوفييت. كما أن الكاتب ليس صاحب وجه متجهم ولحية شهباء، بل سيدة تدعى لودميلا، امتشقت قلمها لتحدثنا عن هموم أخرى، منها الغربة وتنوع العلاقات ومعنى الحياة والموت، وقيمة الفرد في مجتمعه.
يوشك الفنان آليك على مغادرة هذا العالم، فيتجمع حوله أهله وأحباؤه بينما هو كأدبه يسعى إلى تلطيف الموقف والاستمتاع بحياته حتى آخر رمق.
الشخصيات مثيرة للاهتمام ما بين آليك المنفتح على الحياة والبشر، الذي يستلطفه الجميع مهما كان بلغت به قلة الاكتراث، زوجته الهستيرية التي تغرق في شبر من الماء، الصديقة المتخصصة بالعلاجات الشعبية والمراهقة المتمردة التي تخفي طناً من العاطفة. أجواء الرواية بديعة، ما بين شوارع نيويورك التي تعج بشتى أشكال الحياة والشقة المتخمة بالأصدقاء من مختلف المشارب.
أما نبرة الرواية فهي الكوميديا السوداء، تطرح أفكاراً عميقة دون إثارة زوابع. أجمل ما في الرواية هي الحوارات التي تكشف دواخل الشخصيات وتبين معدنها. هنا وهناك بعض المنعطفات المشوقة في السرد، ولكن الحبكة هادئة بصفة عامة.
رواية سلسة وقصيرة، مناسبة لمن يقتفون خطوات الأدب الروسي الذي قد يبدو وكأنه تلاشى دون أثر.
June 8, 2024
"همه مان دور یک مرگ جمع شدیم..."
این جمله از کتابی از احمد آلتان توی ذهنم مونده، که با داستان تدفین پارتی دوباره برام تداعی شد..
روزهای اخر عمر آلیک نقاش شوخ و شنگ مو سرخ روس که نقطه ی مشترک دوستی و رابطه بین شخصیت های کتابه ، بهانه ای برای دور هم جمع شدن این مهاجرهای روس میشه که ناخواسته و با هزاران دردسر از کشورشون گذشتن تا زندگی بهتر و امن تری رو در گوشه ی دیگه ای از دنیا به دست بیارن،�... تدفین پارتی با لحنی از اشک و لبخند، حسرت و طنز، سرگذشت دلبستگی ها و مرارت های این مهاجران و راهی که طی کردن رو شرح میده�.
حکایت زندگی این آدم ها در دنیای جدیدشون بی شباهت به روزهای احتضار آلیک نیست، مثل تجربه ی معلقی بین مرگ و زندگی، نه از ریشه هاشون کنده شدن و نه در محیط جدید ریشه دواندن، نه میتونن چشم و دل از وطن بگیرن و نه میتونن به این کشور جدید با اطمینان خو کنن، و حالا با همه ی این حس ها باید از فاصله ای دور شاهد مرگ وطن و� روزهای متشنجش باشن و از نزدیک شاهد زوال و مرگ عزیزی از وطنشون که براشون حکم پیوند این دو سرزمینه...
این جمله از کتابی از احمد آلتان توی ذهنم مونده، که با داستان تدفین پارتی دوباره برام تداعی شد..
روزهای اخر عمر آلیک نقاش شوخ و شنگ مو سرخ روس که نقطه ی مشترک دوستی و رابطه بین شخصیت های کتابه ، بهانه ای برای دور هم جمع شدن این مهاجرهای روس میشه که ناخواسته و با هزاران دردسر از کشورشون گذشتن تا زندگی بهتر و امن تری رو در گوشه ی دیگه ای از دنیا به دست بیارن،�... تدفین پارتی با لحنی از اشک و لبخند، حسرت و طنز، سرگذشت دلبستگی ها و مرارت های این مهاجران و راهی که طی کردن رو شرح میده�.
حکایت زندگی این آدم ها در دنیای جدیدشون بی شباهت به روزهای احتضار آلیک نیست، مثل تجربه ی معلقی بین مرگ و زندگی، نه از ریشه هاشون کنده شدن و نه در محیط جدید ریشه دواندن، نه میتونن چشم و دل از وطن بگیرن و نه میتونن به این کشور جدید با اطمینان خو کنن، و حالا با همه ی این حس ها باید از فاصله ای دور شاهد مرگ وطن و� روزهای متشنجش باشن و از نزدیک شاهد زوال و مرگ عزیزی از وطنشون که براشون حکم پیوند این دو سرزمینه...
January 28, 2018
In The Funeral Party, Ulitskaya wonderfully captures the divided soul of the emigrant, who lives eternally in a state of transition, never able to consolidate a singular identity. Emigrants are strange people. Having grown up among them, I've noticed a high incidence of eccentric, charismatic and strong-minded people. I'm not sure if this is cultural (perhaps Romanians are simply like that), or because fleeing one's home requires that a person be to some extent unhinged, or at least restless, lacking the contentedness to simply accept the life one has been given.
In this novel I felt a connection with Maika, who as a young person growing up in an emigrant family is affected in a different way, initially feeling alienated from her cultural heritage and those who represent it, but eventually coming to understand and derive a personal importance from it.
The novel explores these specific experiences in the context of more universal ones. The Funeral Party is about how our relationships with others come to define our lives, and how the finality of death lends these relationships a special richness and significance. It is a sad book, but also a hopeful one. There are things that survive beyond death: our children, the works we create, and our actions in life, as remembered by those we love.
In this novel I felt a connection with Maika, who as a young person growing up in an emigrant family is affected in a different way, initially feeling alienated from her cultural heritage and those who represent it, but eventually coming to understand and derive a personal importance from it.
The novel explores these specific experiences in the context of more universal ones. The Funeral Party is about how our relationships with others come to define our lives, and how the finality of death lends these relationships a special richness and significance. It is a sad book, but also a hopeful one. There are things that survive beyond death: our children, the works we create, and our actions in life, as remembered by those we love.
September 26, 2024
(3.5)
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"فایما سعی داشت برای شوالیه� سیاه‌پوست� توضیح بدهد، اما کلمات مناسب را پیدا نمی‌کر�. اخر چطور می‌شو� توضیح داد که وقتی همه چیز غمناک و ماتم‌زاد� است، یک باره موجی از شعف به جان ادم بریزد، شهدی شیرین، نوعی شور جسمانی، در حالی که دل ادم هنوز انباشته از اندوه است. این است انچه زندگی را به پیش می‌ران�."
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نیم ساعته هی می‌نویس� هی پاک میکنم. نمی‌دون� چجوری باید حسمو راجع به کتاب بگم. فقط خوشحالم که چندروزی رو با الیک و دوستاش توی ساختمون شلوغ� گذروندم و به داستان زندگیشون گوش دادم.
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"فایما سعی داشت برای شوالیه� سیاه‌پوست� توضیح بدهد، اما کلمات مناسب را پیدا نمی‌کر�. اخر چطور می‌شو� توضیح داد که وقتی همه چیز غمناک و ماتم‌زاد� است، یک باره موجی از شعف به جان ادم بریزد، شهدی شیرین، نوعی شور جسمانی، در حالی که دل ادم هنوز انباشته از اندوه است. این است انچه زندگی را به پیش می‌ران�."
.
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نیم ساعته هی می‌نویس� هی پاک میکنم. نمی‌دون� چجوری باید حسمو راجع به کتاب بگم. فقط خوشحالم که چندروزی رو با الیک و دوستاش توی ساختمون شلوغ� گذروندم و به داستان زندگیشون گوش دادم.
July 26, 2021
I definitely have to report it �: Ludmila Ulitskaya’s Funeral Party has stolen my dream � my nightmare, that is. I think I’ve already talked about it elsewhere, this recurrent dream I have in which I find myself stranded in Romania with no money and no job (although sometimes I dream that my former school took pity on me and employed me again), freaking out about my bills, my job and my home in Quebec. Over the years I’ve often dismissed this dream of mine as the embodiment of some lack of security about my position and role in my adoptive country that haunts now and again my subconscious. I had to read Ludmila Ulitskaia’s book to learn on one hand that my nightmare was not unusual nor singular and on the other hand that another interpretation, subtler and cleverer could be found: a deep nostalgia of the immigrant for his/ her native land combined with the fear of the same nostalgia � fear to succumb it, that is:
Anyway, joking aside, I must confess it was my friend Ema who introduced me to Ludmila Ulitskaya (actually my copy of this book is her present), a writer I knew nothing about until then, and my first meeting with her has been really enjoyable. The Funeral Party � her first book translated into English, it seems � has that strange mixture of sarcasm and tenderness, of laughter and sadness, of absurd and poetry all great Russian literature has accustomed us with.
The novella’s main theme is apparently emigration and the uprooting that goes with it (apparently because, as we’ll se, there is another, subtler but equally powerful, entwined with it that concerns the artist). In New York City, in a Manhattan apartment (luckily rented a long time ago when the rent was low and the neighborhood quite ordinary) an artist is dying of a mysterious disease that little by little has liquefied him, transforming him in a rubber doll. Around him are gathered his lovers, his daughter and his friends, and like in a Balzacian story, this is a perfect opportunity for the narrator to get a glimpse of their lives with their more or less successful efforts to integrate in the American society and to adopt the American way of life. As expected, these glimpses reveal some funny or picturesque stories, as they disclose the strange (but so common in all North America) mélange between two worlds, two cultures and many a religion. Here is, as an appropriate example, the delicious description of the language they speak, which reminded me of the Romanian corrupted with so many English and French expressions my friends and I often employ to communicate with each other, and which could be put down to the permanent attempt of one culture to overlap the other:
Of course, the language is a consequence of the characters� wandering on the road to integration, road with bumps each one of them tries (successfully or not) to bypass. Here we have Berman and Fima, two brothers who were doctors in Russia. While Berman managed to pass the exams and had his diploma recognized in the United States, Fima could not learn English better enough to do the same, but even though one is dressed like a “respectable doctor� and the other like a tramp, both live in cheap apartments and eat cheap food because Berman has indebted himself heavily in order to open a private practice. Here we have Valentina, who married a homosexual to escape her country and now teaches Russian at school and has had an affair with the subject of the funeral party, Alik. Here we have Nina, Alik’s wife, beauty in decline, who cannot speak English and became an alcoholic because, one of characters meditates, America is unable to have heavy drinkers, like Russia, only sober or addicted ones. And here we have Alik himself, an artist who has lived in New York like once upon a time in Moscow, without a care, letting his friends in charge of his bills and often his food whenever he was unable to feed his family with his art. Different characters on different roads, they all have in common “this crossed frontier, this crossed, stumbling lifeline, this tearing up of old roots and putting down of new ones in new earth, with its new colours, smells and structures.�
No matter how powerful and picturesque this emigration theme might be, another one gradually insinuates and tends to overwhelm it. Also developed around the dying Alik, it concerns the double condition of the creator � as a man and as an artist. While the man is reduced to rubber, losing little by little the human appearance, the artist becomes stronger and will soon occupy the empty place: “Alik lay flat and rubbery, like an empty hot-water bottle, but his mind was alert…� And indeed, the novella ends with the suggestion of a post-mortem wide recognition of his art, followed by, of course, a battle for succession.
Furthermore, a fine touch in completing the artist’s portrait is the idea that the artist, far from being a citizen of the world, i.e. above nationalism, is the only one capable to keep the soul of his country alive wherever he might go, be it an ineffable country he often rebuilds more as it should be than as it really was:
Overall, a very interesting novella. In his very insightful New York Times� on February 11th 2001, Richard Bernstein compares Ulitskaia’s book with Tolstoy’s Death of Ivan Ilyich. This comparison alone should be enough to convince anyone not only that this is a book worth reading but also that Ulitskaya is an author worth following. Therefore, thank you, Ema!
For a long time Russia had existed for them only in their dreams. They all dreamed the same dream, but with different variations. (�) The basic structure of the dream was as follows: they arrived back to find themselves in a closed building, or a building without doors, or a rubbish-container; or something happened that made it impossible for them to return to America: losing documents or being sent to prison, for instance; one Jew had even seen his dead mother, who had tied him up with a rope.
Anyway, joking aside, I must confess it was my friend Ema who introduced me to Ludmila Ulitskaya (actually my copy of this book is her present), a writer I knew nothing about until then, and my first meeting with her has been really enjoyable. The Funeral Party � her first book translated into English, it seems � has that strange mixture of sarcasm and tenderness, of laughter and sadness, of absurd and poetry all great Russian literature has accustomed us with.
The novella’s main theme is apparently emigration and the uprooting that goes with it (apparently because, as we’ll se, there is another, subtler but equally powerful, entwined with it that concerns the artist). In New York City, in a Manhattan apartment (luckily rented a long time ago when the rent was low and the neighborhood quite ordinary) an artist is dying of a mysterious disease that little by little has liquefied him, transforming him in a rubber doll. Around him are gathered his lovers, his daughter and his friends, and like in a Balzacian story, this is a perfect opportunity for the narrator to get a glimpse of their lives with their more or less successful efforts to integrate in the American society and to adopt the American way of life. As expected, these glimpses reveal some funny or picturesque stories, as they disclose the strange (but so common in all North America) mélange between two worlds, two cultures and many a religion. Here is, as an appropriate example, the delicious description of the language they speak, which reminded me of the Romanian corrupted with so many English and French expressions my friends and I often employ to communicate with each other, and which could be put down to the permanent attempt of one culture to overlap the other:
The new American language came to them gradually in their new émigré milieu and was also instrumental and primitive, and they expressed themselves in a terse, deliberately comical jargon, part-English, part-Russian, part-Yiddish, which took in the most exotic criminal slang and the playful intonations of a Jewish anecdote.
Of course, the language is a consequence of the characters� wandering on the road to integration, road with bumps each one of them tries (successfully or not) to bypass. Here we have Berman and Fima, two brothers who were doctors in Russia. While Berman managed to pass the exams and had his diploma recognized in the United States, Fima could not learn English better enough to do the same, but even though one is dressed like a “respectable doctor� and the other like a tramp, both live in cheap apartments and eat cheap food because Berman has indebted himself heavily in order to open a private practice. Here we have Valentina, who married a homosexual to escape her country and now teaches Russian at school and has had an affair with the subject of the funeral party, Alik. Here we have Nina, Alik’s wife, beauty in decline, who cannot speak English and became an alcoholic because, one of characters meditates, America is unable to have heavy drinkers, like Russia, only sober or addicted ones. And here we have Alik himself, an artist who has lived in New York like once upon a time in Moscow, without a care, letting his friends in charge of his bills and often his food whenever he was unable to feed his family with his art. Different characters on different roads, they all have in common “this crossed frontier, this crossed, stumbling lifeline, this tearing up of old roots and putting down of new ones in new earth, with its new colours, smells and structures.�
No matter how powerful and picturesque this emigration theme might be, another one gradually insinuates and tends to overwhelm it. Also developed around the dying Alik, it concerns the double condition of the creator � as a man and as an artist. While the man is reduced to rubber, losing little by little the human appearance, the artist becomes stronger and will soon occupy the empty place: “Alik lay flat and rubbery, like an empty hot-water bottle, but his mind was alert…� And indeed, the novella ends with the suggestion of a post-mortem wide recognition of his art, followed by, of course, a battle for succession.
Furthermore, a fine touch in completing the artist’s portrait is the idea that the artist, far from being a citizen of the world, i.e. above nationalism, is the only one capable to keep the soul of his country alive wherever he might go, be it an ineffable country he often rebuilds more as it should be than as it really was:
He had built his Russia around him, a Russia which hadn’t existed for a long time and perhaps never had. He was carefree and irresponsible, people didn’t live like that here, they didn’t live like it anywhere, dammit. How to define this charm, which had captivated even her little girl? He hadn’t done anything special for anyone, yet they would all have gone through fire for him. No, she didn’t understand, she didn’t understand.
Overall, a very interesting novella. In his very insightful New York Times� on February 11th 2001, Richard Bernstein compares Ulitskaia’s book with Tolstoy’s Death of Ivan Ilyich. This comparison alone should be enough to convince anyone not only that this is a book worth reading but also that Ulitskaya is an author worth following. Therefore, thank you, Ema!
June 27, 2023
я люблю Нью-Йорк
“Ese país odiaba el sufrimiento. Lo rechazaba desde un punto de vista ontológico y sólo lo admitían como una caso particular que exigía erradicación inmediata. Aquella joven nación que repudiaba el sufrimiento había puesto en marcha escuelas enteras - filosóficas, psicológicas y médicas - consagradas a una única misión: librar al hombre del sufrimiento a cualquier precio. Al cerebro ruso de Fima le costaba asimilar esa idea. La tierra en la que había crecido amaba y valoraba el sufrimiento; incluso lo había convertido en su alimento; mediante el sufrimiento la gente crecía, se hacía adulta, se volvía inteligente... Además, la sangre judía de Fima que había pasado por el filtro del sufrimiento durante milenios parecía contener un importante elemento vital que se desmoronaba en ausencia del dolor. Las personas de esa raza, privadas del sufrimiento, pierden también la tierra bajo sus pies...�
Pero Alik no es Fima. Es un pintor, bohemio, enamorado de la vida, de la amistad, y de todas las mujeres. Carismático, después de veinte años viviendo en NY, ha hecho un millón de amigos, en especial entre los dueños de los bares. Y en el ático en el que vive se congregan, como atraídos por un imán, una gran cantidad de emigrados rusos, anque también algún bielorruso, ucraniano y hasta una italiana eslavófila.
Y ahora, Alik está enfermo; su cuerpo no le responde pero su mente y su espíritu están vivos. Y asistimos al día a día, así como al pasado de sus seguidores, narrados con gran arte y profundidad, constituyendo una magnífica historia.
Una novela maravillosa, que lamenté terminar, y de la que no me pude despegar durante varios días, y compensé releyendo muchos de sus párrafos.
Líudmila Ulitskaia nació en Bashkiria, Rusia en 1943, es bióloga genetista, y después que perdiera su cargo de investigadora por su disidencia política, encontró su segunda vocación en la literatura. Es autora también de .
“Ese país odiaba el sufrimiento. Lo rechazaba desde un punto de vista ontológico y sólo lo admitían como una caso particular que exigía erradicación inmediata. Aquella joven nación que repudiaba el sufrimiento había puesto en marcha escuelas enteras - filosóficas, psicológicas y médicas - consagradas a una única misión: librar al hombre del sufrimiento a cualquier precio. Al cerebro ruso de Fima le costaba asimilar esa idea. La tierra en la que había crecido amaba y valoraba el sufrimiento; incluso lo había convertido en su alimento; mediante el sufrimiento la gente crecía, se hacía adulta, se volvía inteligente... Además, la sangre judía de Fima que había pasado por el filtro del sufrimiento durante milenios parecía contener un importante elemento vital que se desmoronaba en ausencia del dolor. Las personas de esa raza, privadas del sufrimiento, pierden también la tierra bajo sus pies...�
Pero Alik no es Fima. Es un pintor, bohemio, enamorado de la vida, de la amistad, y de todas las mujeres. Carismático, después de veinte años viviendo en NY, ha hecho un millón de amigos, en especial entre los dueños de los bares. Y en el ático en el que vive se congregan, como atraídos por un imán, una gran cantidad de emigrados rusos, anque también algún bielorruso, ucraniano y hasta una italiana eslavófila.
Y ahora, Alik está enfermo; su cuerpo no le responde pero su mente y su espíritu están vivos. Y asistimos al día a día, así como al pasado de sus seguidores, narrados con gran arte y profundidad, constituyendo una magnífica historia.
Una novela maravillosa, que lamenté terminar, y de la que no me pude despegar durante varios días, y compensé releyendo muchos de sus párrafos.
Líudmila Ulitskaia nació en Bashkiria, Rusia en 1943, es bióloga genetista, y después que perdiera su cargo de investigadora por su disidencia política, encontró su segunda vocación en la literatura. Es autora también de .
January 13, 2015
*** scroll down for German review **
I cried for the last five chapters of this book. I re-read paragraphs, because I was forced, again and again, to stop in the very middle of a sentence to wipe the tears off.
I love Russian. This short, laconic language; the ways to construct a sentence comparable only to Latin; the grammatical forms, which are frowned upon in today's German (also in English, but there with a reason, I think), but are still part of the Russian, the proper beautiful Russian of a Ludmila Ulitzkaya, where they are not overtaken by fashion. I love it, that saying "because" is so laborious and therefore the stories are without "because". It does not happen because, it happens. The "because" comes afterwards. In a later chapter, jumping back twenty year and still fitting so well into the story, as if the time were not totally disarranged here, but followed its natural course. In a single sentence. In a single word, which suddenly reveals the most important, predominant feature of a character.
There is nothing magical, fantastic in this book. Alik is dying, a russian-jewish emigrant in Manhattan, a not too successful painter, but not a total failure. Nothing else happens. No big disclosures. No big secrets.
And yet there is something magical - an other way to see the reality, a naive one perhaps, too positive one, just ignoring so much - Alik's way, who does not even have a health insurance and who, up to the last moment and afterwards loves laughing, loves people around him. But perhaps the only way to be happy. Because the our everyday life is not so much different. Not crazier that Alik's dying. Not bleaker than Irina's or Valentina's life. Not more childish, more helpless that Nina. Not... Not different, just seen in an other way.
There are so many small things that come together in this great story.
All the character, emerging from nothingness and the past and leaving again, all the short appearances, which go directly to the heart with just one paragraph, through skin and muscle and bone, painful and sweet and unbelievably alive. All the lives, summed up in just a few sentences, the reductions of emigrant lives - emigrants in a sense in which we all are emigrants, expelled from our childhood, prior relationships, the naivete, the last flat, a friendship. Uprooted trees, growing at a new place, perhaps even more beautiful than we would have been before. But this comparison does not matter, as there is no second chance. Or, like Irina (or the author?) thinks: The past is irreversible. And what is there to undo at all?
I do not want to analyze how, on so few pages in such a big font, an author can create characters growing so much on the reader. Whose sparks so easily find a place in my heart. I do not want to analyze how much of what I see in this characters is influences by what I myself experiences, how much of it is Russian, Jewish, how much of it is searching in a foreign world, or the intentionaly naive and trusting. I just want every book to be like this one. To touch the reader like this one do. The world would be a better place than.
****
Ich habe die letzten fünf Kapitel dieses Buches durchgeweint - unkontrolliert, endlos, mit laufender Nase. Ich habe Absätze immer wieder gelesen, weil ich in der Mitte eines Satzes stehen bleiben musste, um mir das Wasser aus den Augen zu wischen.
Ich liebe das Russische. Das kurze, lakonische dieser Sprache, die Satzkonstruktionen, wie es sie sonst nur im Lateinischen gibt, die Formen, die im heutigen Deutschen verpönt sind, aber im Russischen, im guten, schönen Russichen einer Ljudmila Ulitzkaja, immer noch dazu gehören, noch nicht von der Mode eingeholt sind. Ich liebe es, dass es so umständlich ist "weil" zu sagen, und es deswegen Texte ohne "weil" sind. Es passiert nicht weil, sondern es passiert. Das Weil kommt danach. In einem nachgeschobenen Kapitel, das plötzlich zwanzig Jahre zurück springt und sich dennoch so flüssig in den Erzählfluss einfügt, als werde hier die Zeit nicht wild durcheinander geworfen, sondern folge ihren natürlichen Verlauf. In einem einzelnen Satz. In einem Wort, das plötzlich die wichtigste, beherrschende Eigenschaft einer Figur offen legt.
Es ist nichts magisches in diesem Buch, nicht phantastisches. Alik stirbt (man stelle sich dieses Verb in einer Verlaufsform vor, nicht als abgeschlossene Handlung - auch wenn es diese Unterscheidung im Deustchen nicht so schön, so eindeutig ist wie im Russischen), ein russisch-jüdischer Emigrant in Manhattan, ein nicht besonders erfolgreicher Maler, aber keine gescheiterte Existenz. Es passiert sonst nichts. Keine großen Enthüllungen. Keine großen Geheimnisse.
Und doch ist da etwas zauberhaftes - ein anderer Blick auf die Wirklichkeit, ein naiver vielleicht, ein zu positiver, einer, der vieles einfach ignoriert - Aliks Blick, der nicht einmal eine Krankenversicherung hat, der bis zum letzten Augenblick und danach das Lachen und die Menschen liebt. Aber vielleicht der einzige, der glücklich machen kann. Denn so viel anders ist der Alltag, den wir alle leben, nicht. Nicht verrückter, als Aliks Sterben. Nicht trostloser als Irinas oder Valentinas Leben. Nicht kindischer, hilfloser als Nina. Nicht... Nicht anders, nur anders gesehen.
Es sind so viele kleine Dinge, die das wunderbare Ganze formen.
All die Figuren, die auftauchen und wieder gehen, all die kurzen Auftritte, die sich mit einem Absatz direkt ins Herz fressen, durch Haut und Muskel und Knochen, schmerzhaft und süß und unglaublich lebendig. All die Leben, zusammengefasst in wenigen Sätzen, die Reduktionen von Emigrantenschicksälen - Emigranten in jedem Sinne, in dem wir alle Emigranten sind, ausgestoßen aus der Kindheit, aus früheren Beziehungen, aus der Naivität, aus der letzten Wohnung, aus einer Freundschaft, entwurzelte Bäume, die an neuer Stelle wachsen, vielleicht schöner, als sie sonst je gewesen wäre. Aber was spielt es für eine Rolle, wenn man keine zweite Chance hat? Oder, wie Irina (oder die Autorin?) denkt: Die Vergangenheit ist nicht rückgängig zu machen. Und was soll man da überhaupt rückgängig machen?
Ich will nicht analysieren, wie man es schafft, auf so wenigen Seiten in einer so großen Schrift, Figuren zu erschaffen, die dem Leser so ans Herz wachsen. Deren Funke etwas ist, was sich so leicht einen Platz in meinem Herzen finden. Ich will nicht analysieren, wie viel davon, was ich in diesen Figuren sehe, dadurch beeinflusst ist, was ich selbst erlebt habe, wie viel davon russisch, jüdisch, in der Fremde suchend, mit Absicht naiv und zu vertrauensvoll ist. Ich will einfach, dass jedes Buch so ist. Jedes Buch so berührt. Dann wäre die Welt besser.
I cried for the last five chapters of this book. I re-read paragraphs, because I was forced, again and again, to stop in the very middle of a sentence to wipe the tears off.
I love Russian. This short, laconic language; the ways to construct a sentence comparable only to Latin; the grammatical forms, which are frowned upon in today's German (also in English, but there with a reason, I think), but are still part of the Russian, the proper beautiful Russian of a Ludmila Ulitzkaya, where they are not overtaken by fashion. I love it, that saying "because" is so laborious and therefore the stories are without "because". It does not happen because, it happens. The "because" comes afterwards. In a later chapter, jumping back twenty year and still fitting so well into the story, as if the time were not totally disarranged here, but followed its natural course. In a single sentence. In a single word, which suddenly reveals the most important, predominant feature of a character.
There is nothing magical, fantastic in this book. Alik is dying, a russian-jewish emigrant in Manhattan, a not too successful painter, but not a total failure. Nothing else happens. No big disclosures. No big secrets.
And yet there is something magical - an other way to see the reality, a naive one perhaps, too positive one, just ignoring so much - Alik's way, who does not even have a health insurance and who, up to the last moment and afterwards loves laughing, loves people around him. But perhaps the only way to be happy. Because the our everyday life is not so much different. Not crazier that Alik's dying. Not bleaker than Irina's or Valentina's life. Not more childish, more helpless that Nina. Not... Not different, just seen in an other way.
There are so many small things that come together in this great story.
All the character, emerging from nothingness and the past and leaving again, all the short appearances, which go directly to the heart with just one paragraph, through skin and muscle and bone, painful and sweet and unbelievably alive. All the lives, summed up in just a few sentences, the reductions of emigrant lives - emigrants in a sense in which we all are emigrants, expelled from our childhood, prior relationships, the naivete, the last flat, a friendship. Uprooted trees, growing at a new place, perhaps even more beautiful than we would have been before. But this comparison does not matter, as there is no second chance. Or, like Irina (or the author?) thinks: The past is irreversible. And what is there to undo at all?
I do not want to analyze how, on so few pages in such a big font, an author can create characters growing so much on the reader. Whose sparks so easily find a place in my heart. I do not want to analyze how much of what I see in this characters is influences by what I myself experiences, how much of it is Russian, Jewish, how much of it is searching in a foreign world, or the intentionaly naive and trusting. I just want every book to be like this one. To touch the reader like this one do. The world would be a better place than.
****
Ich habe die letzten fünf Kapitel dieses Buches durchgeweint - unkontrolliert, endlos, mit laufender Nase. Ich habe Absätze immer wieder gelesen, weil ich in der Mitte eines Satzes stehen bleiben musste, um mir das Wasser aus den Augen zu wischen.
Ich liebe das Russische. Das kurze, lakonische dieser Sprache, die Satzkonstruktionen, wie es sie sonst nur im Lateinischen gibt, die Formen, die im heutigen Deutschen verpönt sind, aber im Russischen, im guten, schönen Russichen einer Ljudmila Ulitzkaja, immer noch dazu gehören, noch nicht von der Mode eingeholt sind. Ich liebe es, dass es so umständlich ist "weil" zu sagen, und es deswegen Texte ohne "weil" sind. Es passiert nicht weil, sondern es passiert. Das Weil kommt danach. In einem nachgeschobenen Kapitel, das plötzlich zwanzig Jahre zurück springt und sich dennoch so flüssig in den Erzählfluss einfügt, als werde hier die Zeit nicht wild durcheinander geworfen, sondern folge ihren natürlichen Verlauf. In einem einzelnen Satz. In einem Wort, das plötzlich die wichtigste, beherrschende Eigenschaft einer Figur offen legt.
Es ist nichts magisches in diesem Buch, nicht phantastisches. Alik stirbt (man stelle sich dieses Verb in einer Verlaufsform vor, nicht als abgeschlossene Handlung - auch wenn es diese Unterscheidung im Deustchen nicht so schön, so eindeutig ist wie im Russischen), ein russisch-jüdischer Emigrant in Manhattan, ein nicht besonders erfolgreicher Maler, aber keine gescheiterte Existenz. Es passiert sonst nichts. Keine großen Enthüllungen. Keine großen Geheimnisse.
Und doch ist da etwas zauberhaftes - ein anderer Blick auf die Wirklichkeit, ein naiver vielleicht, ein zu positiver, einer, der vieles einfach ignoriert - Aliks Blick, der nicht einmal eine Krankenversicherung hat, der bis zum letzten Augenblick und danach das Lachen und die Menschen liebt. Aber vielleicht der einzige, der glücklich machen kann. Denn so viel anders ist der Alltag, den wir alle leben, nicht. Nicht verrückter, als Aliks Sterben. Nicht trostloser als Irinas oder Valentinas Leben. Nicht kindischer, hilfloser als Nina. Nicht... Nicht anders, nur anders gesehen.
Es sind so viele kleine Dinge, die das wunderbare Ganze formen.
All die Figuren, die auftauchen und wieder gehen, all die kurzen Auftritte, die sich mit einem Absatz direkt ins Herz fressen, durch Haut und Muskel und Knochen, schmerzhaft und süß und unglaublich lebendig. All die Leben, zusammengefasst in wenigen Sätzen, die Reduktionen von Emigrantenschicksälen - Emigranten in jedem Sinne, in dem wir alle Emigranten sind, ausgestoßen aus der Kindheit, aus früheren Beziehungen, aus der Naivität, aus der letzten Wohnung, aus einer Freundschaft, entwurzelte Bäume, die an neuer Stelle wachsen, vielleicht schöner, als sie sonst je gewesen wäre. Aber was spielt es für eine Rolle, wenn man keine zweite Chance hat? Oder, wie Irina (oder die Autorin?) denkt: Die Vergangenheit ist nicht rückgängig zu machen. Und was soll man da überhaupt rückgängig machen?
Ich will nicht analysieren, wie man es schafft, auf so wenigen Seiten in einer so großen Schrift, Figuren zu erschaffen, die dem Leser so ans Herz wachsen. Deren Funke etwas ist, was sich so leicht einen Platz in meinem Herzen finden. Ich will nicht analysieren, wie viel davon, was ich in diesen Figuren sehe, dadurch beeinflusst ist, was ich selbst erlebt habe, wie viel davon russisch, jüdisch, in der Fremde suchend, mit Absicht naiv und zu vertrauensvoll ist. Ich will einfach, dass jedes Buch so ist. Jedes Buch so berührt. Dann wäre die Welt besser.
August 10, 2023
The four main women in this Russian novella really made the difference here. They really did shine like beacons, and I've read novels three time as long and not had the same three-dimensional depth as what's on offer here. With themes of love, identity and emigrés, and set around the time at the end of Gorbachev's Soviet Union in a baking hot Manhattan, Ulitskaya acutely observes these women - a former lover and a one-time circus acrobat; the paranoid alcoholic wife of Alik, who is the failed painter on his deathbed; his Italian neighbour, Gioia; and his latest mistress, Valentina - all in a manner of light screwball antics and deep tender affection as they share in the immigrant experience of America, whilst Ulitskaya also gives personal histories told in flashbacks thus you really get a sense of who they truly are. Had not even heard of book nor writer a few weeks back, and I took a chance, and pleasantly surprised by just how much I liked it. Gone are the days when I thought all Russian lit was miserable.
September 14, 2021
آلیک مهاجریه که از روسیه به آمریکا مهاجرت کرده؛ نقاشه و به‌خاط� بیماری مرموزی که به‌تدری� باعث شده اعضای بدنش از کار بیوفته، آخرین روز‌ها� زندگیش رو توی خانه‌ا� در نیویورک سپری میکنه�
دوست‌ه� و آشناهاش که بیشترشون روس هستن تنهاش نذاشتن و این روز‌ها� آخر، مدام بهش سر می‌زن� و پیشش می‌مون� خونه شلوغه و پر از رفت‌وآمد� و ما به‌مرو� با این آدم‌ه� و گذشته‌شو� آشنا می‌شیم�
نویسنده به‌صور� گذرا به فروپاشی شوروی هم اشاره می‌کن� و حس و حال مهاجرین رو توصیف می‌کن� که تمام مدت پای تلویزیون می‌شین� و اخبار رو تماشا می‌کن� و هنوز هم خودشون رو جزوی از اون مردمی که تو خیابون هستن می‌دون� و می‌گ� ما بردیم. یه‌جورای� انگار مهم نیست چند ساله از کشورت خارج شدی و داری کجا زندگی می‌کنی� تو هنوز هم متعلق به کشوری هستی که توش به دنیا آمدی📖
راجع به یهودیت و مسیحیت هم توضیحاتی داده می‌ش� که به نظر من باعث می‌ش� داستان خیلی شلوغ بشه. انگار نویسنده تمام موضوعاتی رو که دوست داشته توی یه کتاب گنجونده📖
📌نویسنده در نوشتن کتاب از طنز سیاه استفاده کرده ولی نمی‌دون� نویسنده یا مترجم موفق نبودن این لحن رو به‌خوب� منتقل کنن. با خوندن داستان نه می‌خند� نه ناراحت می‌شی� در کل یه حس خنثی‌ا� داری
July 21, 2022
در آپارتمان�-آتلیه یک نقاش محتضر دوستانش جمع شده� و انگار به مهمانی آمده‌ان�...نقاشی که انگار مهره مار داشته و در زمان سلامتی همه را جذب می‌کرد�. هر فرد این جمع قصه پر غصه‌‌ا� دارد که در میان داستان اصلی، با استادی بیان می‌شو�. صحنه‌های� که از دید نقاش رو به مرگ روایت می‌شون� درخشانند.
همگی مهاجران روس در امریکا...
همگی مهاجران روس در امریکا...
July 10, 2024
A satire and character based novel of the Russian immigrant experience of the USA. Alik is dying and has decided to die in his rundown apartment home rather than in a hospital. Alik is a free spirited painter who is liked by many, particularly women! His wife Nina, who drinks lots of alcohol, requests that Alik, a Jew, undergo baptism by a priest. Alik agrees as long as a rabbi is present!
During his last days a number of friends and former lovers come and go from Alik’s apartment. One time lover, Irina, once a circus acrobat and exotic dancer, now a lawyer, pays Alik’s medical bills. Alik has never been good with money. Lately he has not sold any of his paintings.
An entertaining read with distinctive characters.
This book was first published in 1999.
During his last days a number of friends and former lovers come and go from Alik’s apartment. One time lover, Irina, once a circus acrobat and exotic dancer, now a lawyer, pays Alik’s medical bills. Alik has never been good with money. Lately he has not sold any of his paintings.
An entertaining read with distinctive characters.
This book was first published in 1999.
June 11, 2024
¡Maldita Bohemia!, exclama en determinado momento uno de los tantos personajes que conforman esta novela, refiriéndose a los inconvenientes de este tipo de vida en la que coexisten la despreocupación por el mundo convencional con la frecuente falta de dinero. En esta vida bohemia que enmarca este relato se dan cita una serie de mediocres artistas, alegres borrachos, desempleados sin preocupaciones, curanderas mágicas, una ex acróbata de circo, personas exóticas eternamente sin dinero y con deudas, amantes, ex amantes y desde luego la esposa del moribundo pintor llamado Alik, quien llegó tiempo atrás procedente de Rusia a ese teatro callejero llamado Nueva York. Todos ellos están pendientes del carismático Alik quien vive en una especie de almacén habilitado como vivienda y alguna vez taller de pintura. Las escenas que se desarrollan en esa vivienda son más propias de una alegre inauguración que del aposento de un moribundo. A pesar del estado de salud de Alik aún se mueven sus ojos vivaces y lúcidos en ese cuerpo semimuerto y el buen humor no lo abandona.
La autora crea un pequeño cosmos, en donde la mayoría de los concurrentes son rusos y rusos-judíos en ese caótico almacén neoyorkino al cual llega, a cualquier hora del día o de la noche sin mediar aviso, un sinnúmero de personas, incluso músicos callejeros y un par de sacerdotes de diferente credo para tratar de bautizar a Alik.
La novela se encuentra ambientada en la Gran Manzana hacia 1991 en donde muchos refugiados de las vilezas del régimen soviético, que a diario les hacía tragar grandes dosis de sufrimiento, han encontrado una nueva forma de vivir. Ese partido autoritario que había dominado a la gran Unión de Repúblicas Socialistas Soviéticas (URSS) se venía abajo estrepitosamente a la par que la doctrina imperante hasta entonces y a la par que Alik. La URSS dejaría de existir como tal.
Es asombroso como en no muchas páginas la autora nos seduce con la creación de sus muy variados personajes: Alik, Nina la desequilibrada esposa de éste, Valentina una ex amante de él, Irina una gran pasión del pintor y su hija Maika, la parca y fea mujer italiana llamada Goia, el médico Firma Gruber, la curandera María Ignátievna y los sacerdotes me parecen una creación estupenda. Hay muchos más personajes, pareciera que la autora tiene la virtud de crear a cada tanto un interesante y pintoresco carácter. Como se puede apreciar muchos de ellos son mujeres.
Fantástico el estilo de Liudmila Ulitskaya (1943), sencillo, inteligente y claro, pero a la vez meticuloso, sin artificios; no en balde se la ha mencionado en algunos círculos como candidata para obtener el Premio Nobel de Literatura, esto independientemente de que ha sido premiada ya con múltiples galardones literarios de prestigio
.
No omito mencionar la excelente traducción de Víctor Gallego Ballestero, gran experto en letras rusas, sin su trabajo no hubiera disfrutado tanto esta novela.
La autora crea un pequeño cosmos, en donde la mayoría de los concurrentes son rusos y rusos-judíos en ese caótico almacén neoyorkino al cual llega, a cualquier hora del día o de la noche sin mediar aviso, un sinnúmero de personas, incluso músicos callejeros y un par de sacerdotes de diferente credo para tratar de bautizar a Alik.
La novela se encuentra ambientada en la Gran Manzana hacia 1991 en donde muchos refugiados de las vilezas del régimen soviético, que a diario les hacía tragar grandes dosis de sufrimiento, han encontrado una nueva forma de vivir. Ese partido autoritario que había dominado a la gran Unión de Repúblicas Socialistas Soviéticas (URSS) se venía abajo estrepitosamente a la par que la doctrina imperante hasta entonces y a la par que Alik. La URSS dejaría de existir como tal.
Es asombroso como en no muchas páginas la autora nos seduce con la creación de sus muy variados personajes: Alik, Nina la desequilibrada esposa de éste, Valentina una ex amante de él, Irina una gran pasión del pintor y su hija Maika, la parca y fea mujer italiana llamada Goia, el médico Firma Gruber, la curandera María Ignátievna y los sacerdotes me parecen una creación estupenda. Hay muchos más personajes, pareciera que la autora tiene la virtud de crear a cada tanto un interesante y pintoresco carácter. Como se puede apreciar muchos de ellos son mujeres.
Fantástico el estilo de Liudmila Ulitskaya (1943), sencillo, inteligente y claro, pero a la vez meticuloso, sin artificios; no en balde se la ha mencionado en algunos círculos como candidata para obtener el Premio Nobel de Literatura, esto independientemente de que ha sido premiada ya con múltiples galardones literarios de prestigio
.
No omito mencionar la excelente traducción de Víctor Gallego Ballestero, gran experto en letras rusas, sin su trabajo no hubiera disfrutado tanto esta novela.
April 9, 2021
"یک‌بار� گُر گرفت و با خودش فکر کرد انگار آلیک اصلاً کشورش را ترک نکرده و جایی نرفته‌بو�! او روسیه‌ا� را دور خودش ساخته بود. روسیه‌ا� که حالا دیگر خیلی وقت است که نیست."
اولیتسکایا از اون نویسنده‌هایی� که به جزئیات خیلی دقت میکنه. میاد میبینه چه چیزای کوچیکی توی زندگی روزمره هست و از همونا داستان میگه؛ اون هم نه ساده. جوری داستان رو میشکافه و توصیف میکنه که با ذره ذره� وجودت باور می‌کن� دردی هست، رنجی هست و تو داری حسش می‌کن�.
داستان کتاب رو پشت جلدش نوشته، پس از اون چیزی نمی‌گ�.
توی داستان، به شخصیت‌ه� انقدر خوب پرداخته شده که شما تک تکشون رو توی زندگی روزمره میشناشید�: آلک، نینا، تی‌شر� و... .
کتاب حال و هوای مهاجرها رو خوب بیان کرده. آدمای کتاب، چندساله مهاجرِ آمریکان ولی هنوز دلشون با روسیه‌ست� با وطن.
اونا با شنیدن یه خبر جدید از روسیه، نگران می‌شن� کارهاشون رو ول می‌کن� و همه چشم میدوزن به صفحه� تلویزیون شاید آدم آشنایی ببینن.
من عاشقِ روحِ روسی توی داستان‌ها� روسیه‌ام� مخصوصاً اونایی که درباره� شورویه یا توی اون دوران نوشته شده. روس‌ه� توی این کتاب‌ها� نمیان به ما بگن نژاد برترن، نمیان بگن بقیه دنیا احمقن و اونا باهوش‌ترین� ملت‌ه�. روحِ روسی، شبیه بوی نون تازه‌س�. کاری با کتاب می‌کن� که یه خطش رو بخونی، بگی "این مال روسیه‌س�(نه روس‌ها� بلکه روسیه)". روحِ روسی، از وطن میگه� دوستش داره، بهش وصله و هر جوری حساب کنی، جدا نمی‌ش�. روحِ روسی، با صدای بالالایکا و بوی کاشا زنده می‌ش�. واسه همین چیزاست که من عاشقِ ادبیات روسیه‌ا�:)
پ.ن: یه سری کتابه� و داستان‌ه� هستن، بوی ایران میدن. به نظرم ادبیاتِ فارسی معاصر ما همچین چیزایی رو کم داره؛ چیزی که یه خطش رو بخونی و بگی: "این بوی وطن میده."
اولیتسکایا از اون نویسنده‌هایی� که به جزئیات خیلی دقت میکنه. میاد میبینه چه چیزای کوچیکی توی زندگی روزمره هست و از همونا داستان میگه؛ اون هم نه ساده. جوری داستان رو میشکافه و توصیف میکنه که با ذره ذره� وجودت باور می‌کن� دردی هست، رنجی هست و تو داری حسش می‌کن�.
داستان کتاب رو پشت جلدش نوشته، پس از اون چیزی نمی‌گ�.
توی داستان، به شخصیت‌ه� انقدر خوب پرداخته شده که شما تک تکشون رو توی زندگی روزمره میشناشید�: آلک، نینا، تی‌شر� و... .
کتاب حال و هوای مهاجرها رو خوب بیان کرده. آدمای کتاب، چندساله مهاجرِ آمریکان ولی هنوز دلشون با روسیه‌ست� با وطن.
اونا با شنیدن یه خبر جدید از روسیه، نگران می‌شن� کارهاشون رو ول می‌کن� و همه چشم میدوزن به صفحه� تلویزیون شاید آدم آشنایی ببینن.
من عاشقِ روحِ روسی توی داستان‌ها� روسیه‌ام� مخصوصاً اونایی که درباره� شورویه یا توی اون دوران نوشته شده. روس‌ه� توی این کتاب‌ها� نمیان به ما بگن نژاد برترن، نمیان بگن بقیه دنیا احمقن و اونا باهوش‌ترین� ملت‌ه�. روحِ روسی، شبیه بوی نون تازه‌س�. کاری با کتاب می‌کن� که یه خطش رو بخونی، بگی "این مال روسیه‌س�(نه روس‌ها� بلکه روسیه)". روحِ روسی، از وطن میگه� دوستش داره، بهش وصله و هر جوری حساب کنی، جدا نمی‌ش�. روحِ روسی، با صدای بالالایکا و بوی کاشا زنده می‌ش�. واسه همین چیزاست که من عاشقِ ادبیات روسیه‌ا�:)
پ.ن: یه سری کتابه� و داستان‌ه� هستن، بوی ایران میدن. به نظرم ادبیاتِ فارسی معاصر ما همچین چیزایی رو کم داره؛ چیزی که یه خطش رو بخونی و بگی: "این بوی وطن میده."
November 16, 2016
I got exactly zero anything from reading this book. I challenge any of my friends to ask me about it one year from now, and I'll buy you any beer you want if I even remember that I read it. In fact, I finished it yesterday, and I think I already forgot most of it. I'm going to do some research and see if I missed something really important about it, but barring that, I wouldn't waste my time.
November 19, 2016
Nothing "wrong" with this book, but I found myself uninvolved and unmoved as I read through its 150-odd pages. Perhaps because I'm not Russian? Not an immigrant? Maybe there's something specific and evocative about this story that I don't appreciate?
November 16, 2023
De titel zegt alles. Een geëmigreerde Rus ligt te sterven in New York, omringd door alles en iedereen die in zijn leven belangrijk was. Het mondt uit in een bijeenkomst van halvegaren die op geen enkele andere manier elkaars nabijheid zouden hebben opgezocht, maar nu, voor hun oude stervende kunstenaar en vriend, hun glas hoog heffen en onbeschaamd doen wat hun gepast lijkt op zijn herdenkingsfeest.
Een heerlijke clash tussen de Russische en Amerikaanse cultuur, hoe emigranten een rare mengelmoes van beide volkeren worden.
Een heerlijke clash tussen de Russische en Amerikaanse cultuur, hoe emigranten een rare mengelmoes van beide volkeren worden.
January 4, 2015
Din momentul în care am aflat că Ulițkaia are un roman intitulat ”Înmormântare veselă�, mi s-a pus pata, trebuia să fac rost de el - dar nu l-am mai găsit decât la bibliotecă. Îmi imaginam deja o poveste cu mult umor negru, cu un amestec de cinism, vulgaritate și melancolie, infuzată de pitoreștile tradiții rusești pe care autoarea le pune atât de bine în valoare. Cam așa a și fost, iar cartea mi-a plăcut foarte mult. Ce mai, n-ai cum să nu iubești Rusia din poveștile Ludmilei Ulițkaia, oricâte lucuri rele ai auzit despre țara asta până acum.
Toate personajele din ”Înmormântare veselă� au părăsit pământul natal în căutarea unei vieți mai bune în America. Fuga asta este ceea ce le unește, în ciuda diferențelor de opinii și de caracter. Însă le mai unește ceva: un om aflat pe patul de moarte. Pictorul Alik se stinge încet, în urma unei boli misterioase care i-a paralizat întregul corp. Doar ochii mai sunt vii în trupul uscat, de vorbit vorbește din ce în ce mai greu, însă farmecul lui extraordinar - care i-a atras dintotdeauna pe oameni - continuă să își exercite puterea. Depozitul-atelier în care trăiește cu soția Nina este plin în fiecare zi de prieteni: cu pahare de băutură în mână, ei roiesc în jurul lui Alik ca fluturii atrași de lumină, mai cu seamă femeile pe care le-a iubit, și care continuă să-i fie devotate.
Este, mai degrabă, o atmosferă de vernisaj sau de petrecere, decât una potrivită pentru un muribund. Însă exact asta a iubit mai mult Alik în viață: petrecerile alături pe prietenii săi, o adunătură pestriță de oameni feluriți pe care el i-a strâns laolaltă. Acum toți îl ajută cum pot, plătindu-i datoriile, spălându-l, hrănindu-l, falsificând acte pentru a-l interna în spital. Oameni necunoscuți ajung în acest sanctuar rusesc din mijlocul New York-ului și se lipesc de el - de om, dar mai ales de ceea ce reprezintă el: spiritul viu al unei țări renegate și uitate, care continuă totuși să mocnească adânc în sufletul fiecărui emigrant.
Dacă aveți chef să citiți mai mult decât atât, varianta lungă se află pe blog:
Toate personajele din ”Înmormântare veselă� au părăsit pământul natal în căutarea unei vieți mai bune în America. Fuga asta este ceea ce le unește, în ciuda diferențelor de opinii și de caracter. Însă le mai unește ceva: un om aflat pe patul de moarte. Pictorul Alik se stinge încet, în urma unei boli misterioase care i-a paralizat întregul corp. Doar ochii mai sunt vii în trupul uscat, de vorbit vorbește din ce în ce mai greu, însă farmecul lui extraordinar - care i-a atras dintotdeauna pe oameni - continuă să își exercite puterea. Depozitul-atelier în care trăiește cu soția Nina este plin în fiecare zi de prieteni: cu pahare de băutură în mână, ei roiesc în jurul lui Alik ca fluturii atrași de lumină, mai cu seamă femeile pe care le-a iubit, și care continuă să-i fie devotate.
Este, mai degrabă, o atmosferă de vernisaj sau de petrecere, decât una potrivită pentru un muribund. Însă exact asta a iubit mai mult Alik în viață: petrecerile alături pe prietenii săi, o adunătură pestriță de oameni feluriți pe care el i-a strâns laolaltă. Acum toți îl ajută cum pot, plătindu-i datoriile, spălându-l, hrănindu-l, falsificând acte pentru a-l interna în spital. Oameni necunoscuți ajung în acest sanctuar rusesc din mijlocul New York-ului și se lipesc de el - de om, dar mai ales de ceea ce reprezintă el: spiritul viu al unei țări renegate și uitate, care continuă totuși să mocnească adânc în sufletul fiecărui emigrant.
Dacă aveți chef să citiți mai mult decât atât, varianta lungă se află pe blog:
November 22, 2016
It's a super-fast read (a few hours), and I read it in a post-election rage so it took me a while to settle into it, but it was enjoyable and impermanent, much like our worthless and short lives which are only made meaningful by the relationships we have in them. Even the gestures we make -- a tape here, a check there -- are small and insignificant, worn out by the repetition of generations, and only cherished by those closest to us.
That got dark fast.
To be honest, I don't remember much; but it captures the place and the time well, and the prose is pleasingly unburdensome. It's an immigrant story, and this immigrant (emigrant, I guess) appreciate it at this particular turn around the sun.
That got dark fast.
To be honest, I don't remember much; but it captures the place and the time well, and the prose is pleasingly unburdensome. It's an immigrant story, and this immigrant (emigrant, I guess) appreciate it at this particular turn around the sun.
February 27, 2021
Alik umiera a okolo jeho smrteľnej postele sa zhromaždia osudové ženy jeho života. Vyvstáva otázka � či skôr túžba jednej z žien � dať ho pokrstiť, Alik však kňaza prijme, len ak príde aj rabín. Takmer groteska, bizarný i pekný príbeh, vyrozprávaný inak, než sme u Uličnej zvyknutí, ľahkým až ľahktikárskym spôsobom, plná čarovných epizód, postrehov a popisov.
"...predovšetkým z neho vyžarovalo niečo veľmi vzácne, a to dokonalé presvedčenie, že život sa začína nasludujúcim pondelkom a včerajšok možno úplne vyčiarknuť, najmä, ak nebol celkom vydarený."
"...predovšetkým z neho vyžarovalo niečo veľmi vzácne, a to dokonalé presvedčenie, že život sa začína nasludujúcim pondelkom a včerajšok možno úplne vyčiarknuť, najmä, ak nebol celkom vydarený."
December 23, 2022
یک نفر ،یک نقاش روس که از روسیه فرارکرده،درحال احتضار است و این اصلا خنده‌دا� نیست.
ولی موقعیت آدم‌ه� و اطرافیانش،درگیری‌هایشا� و دغدغه‌ه� و عشق و نفرت‌هایشا� به شدت خنده‌دا� است.
روابطی سطحی و عمیق که حول محور محتضر شکل گرفته‌ان�.
بهرروی به نظرم ایده� داستان جالب و جدیده.
نگاه نیمه طنز و کمیکی هم به خود مقوله� مرگ دارد.
ولی موقعیت آدم‌ه� و اطرافیانش،درگیری‌هایشا� و دغدغه‌ه� و عشق و نفرت‌هایشا� به شدت خنده‌دا� است.
روابطی سطحی و عمیق که حول محور محتضر شکل گرفته‌ان�.
بهرروی به نظرم ایده� داستان جالب و جدیده.
نگاه نیمه طنز و کمیکی هم به خود مقوله� مرگ دارد.
November 26, 2020
как может быть одновременно так грустно и радостно? и как Улицкая всё это делает? восторг!
October 28, 2019
Volim kad ljudi ne žive u mikrosvijetu,kad imaju otvoren um i hrabrost za pustolovine.Takav je Alik,junak ove priče.
September 28, 2022
Na FB som si poznačil:
V rámci trápenia s kovidom čítam skvelý "Veselý pohreb" Ľudmily Ulickej. A tam sa v jednom dialógu medzi ruskými emigrantami v New Yorku zaskvela táto replika.
"Prišla si z Ruska a Amerika ti je špinavá? To ma podrž!"
Hľa, aký kontext.
A nie len v kontexte presnej diagnózy Ruska, presakujúcej z textu v príbehoch ruských emigrantov v New Yorku, je toto jedna z najlepších kníh, čo som v tomto roku čítal. Fascinujúce, ako autorka dokázala na malej ploche veľmi presne a presvedčivo predstaviť množstvo úplne odlišných postáv bublajúcej rusko-židovskej diaspóry s množstvom osobných príbehov. Brilantné.
V rámci trápenia s kovidom čítam skvelý "Veselý pohreb" Ľudmily Ulickej. A tam sa v jednom dialógu medzi ruskými emigrantami v New Yorku zaskvela táto replika.
"Prišla si z Ruska a Amerika ti je špinavá? To ma podrž!"
Hľa, aký kontext.
A nie len v kontexte presnej diagnózy Ruska, presakujúcej z textu v príbehoch ruských emigrantov v New Yorku, je toto jedna z najlepších kníh, čo som v tomto roku čítal. Fascinujúce, ako autorka dokázala na malej ploche veľmi presne a presvedčivo predstaviť množstvo úplne odlišných postáv bublajúcej rusko-židovskej diaspóry s množstvom osobných príbehov. Brilantné.
May 25, 2016
Meu funeral russo
As narrativas da russa Ludmila Ulitskaya se materializam numa fissura entre o residual da União Soviética e o emergente da (nova) Rússia. A questão, então, que seus romances tentam investigar é: o que é o hegemônico? Isso fica bem claro nas quase 600 páginas de THE BIG GREEN TENT, lançado em inglês no final do ano passado, um romance monumental que acompanha o desmantelamento da União Soviética. Sua primeira obra lançada em inglês THE FUNERAL PARTY (Trad. Cathy Porters) tem pouco mais de 150 páginas, mas também tenta dar conta de um momento parecido.
Poderia se chamar My Big Fat Russian Funeral, nas mãos de um escritor menos talentoso, menos propenso a trabalhar o material histórico, mas Ludmila lida exatamente com a intersecção entre o histórico e o pessoal, e a morte do protagonista, um pintor russo chamado Alik que mora nos EUA, é simbolicamente o fim do começo da União Soviética. Montando um panorama apaixonado e variado da comunidade imigrante, o romance é permeado por dúvidas e incertezas.
A mulher dele, Nina, implora que ele, agnóstico, se batize. O pintor aceita conversar com um padre, se também conversar com um rabino. É sábado, e Nina sabe que nenhum rabino poderá vir, então se adianta a trazer o padre para que esse tenha alguma vantagem. Esse é apenas um dos episódios cômicos que se dão no claustrofóbico apartamento do casal durante uma onda de calor, enquanto ele agoniza e ex-amantes, amigos e amigas entram e saem, para cuidar e se despedir dele.
Como pode caber tanta vida num romance tão curto? Não sei, mas cabe. Ludmila vai e volta no tempo, faz pequenos e grandes perfis dessas pessoas que cercam Alik, todos com algum laço com a União Soviética que está ruindo. Aos poucos, a narrativa também evidencia o contraste entre a cultura russa e a americana, uma pautada por um fatalismo sombrio, enquanto a outra, tão perdida em si mesma, não é capaz de perceber o mundo que a cerca.
As narrativas da russa Ludmila Ulitskaya se materializam numa fissura entre o residual da União Soviética e o emergente da (nova) Rússia. A questão, então, que seus romances tentam investigar é: o que é o hegemônico? Isso fica bem claro nas quase 600 páginas de THE BIG GREEN TENT, lançado em inglês no final do ano passado, um romance monumental que acompanha o desmantelamento da União Soviética. Sua primeira obra lançada em inglês THE FUNERAL PARTY (Trad. Cathy Porters) tem pouco mais de 150 páginas, mas também tenta dar conta de um momento parecido.
Poderia se chamar My Big Fat Russian Funeral, nas mãos de um escritor menos talentoso, menos propenso a trabalhar o material histórico, mas Ludmila lida exatamente com a intersecção entre o histórico e o pessoal, e a morte do protagonista, um pintor russo chamado Alik que mora nos EUA, é simbolicamente o fim do começo da União Soviética. Montando um panorama apaixonado e variado da comunidade imigrante, o romance é permeado por dúvidas e incertezas.
A mulher dele, Nina, implora que ele, agnóstico, se batize. O pintor aceita conversar com um padre, se também conversar com um rabino. É sábado, e Nina sabe que nenhum rabino poderá vir, então se adianta a trazer o padre para que esse tenha alguma vantagem. Esse é apenas um dos episódios cômicos que se dão no claustrofóbico apartamento do casal durante uma onda de calor, enquanto ele agoniza e ex-amantes, amigos e amigas entram e saem, para cuidar e se despedir dele.
Como pode caber tanta vida num romance tão curto? Não sei, mas cabe. Ludmila vai e volta no tempo, faz pequenos e grandes perfis dessas pessoas que cercam Alik, todos com algum laço com a União Soviética que está ruindo. Aos poucos, a narrativa também evidencia o contraste entre a cultura russa e a americana, uma pautada por um fatalismo sombrio, enquanto a outra, tão perdida em si mesma, não é capaz de perceber o mundo que a cerca.
February 16, 2015
Home. A powerful and multipurpose word. Some argue it is where ever you and yours are, others that it is a place that one can never return to once they have left. This is one of the many complex themes tackled in Ludmila Ulitskaya’s novel The Funeral Party. Manhattan in the summer can be an oppressive place, for a group of Russian immigrants it is made all the more unbearable because they are gathered together to sit by the death bed of a beloved friend, Alik. An artist, friend to all, and particular lover of women, Alik is confined to his loft apartment where many desperate friends wander in and out to visit him, support each other, and ultimately to form and ad hoc family. Alik’s alcoholic wife is desperate to have him baptized before his death, while their remains the question of reconciling to the faith of his birth with the help of a rabbi. Also at his side are his mistress, a former lover and her young daughter as well as young doctor, unable to pass his exams in the US due to his difficulty with the written and spoken language. They are joined by a recent émigré, recently reunited with her son. As the group argues, drinks Vodka and supports one another, a coup is attempted in Moscow and politics what it means to be Russian enters the discussion. Emotionally charged and filled with insights into life and death, love and heartbreak, home and immigration The Funeral Party is a powerful book, one that should not be missed.
February 28, 2021
نشر برج مطالعه این کتاب را به شما توصیه می‌کن� چرا که:
نگاهی نو در ادبیات مهاجرت با تأکید بر جایگاه هنرمند.
ترکیبی هوشمندانه از تراژدی مهاجرت و رؤیای آمریکایی.
بیان دغدغه‌ها� سیاسی، اجتماعی و دینی در قالبی استعاری و با طنزی کنایی.
پرداختن غیرکلیشه‌ا� به روابط عاطفی و زناشویی.
روایت فروپاشی اتحاد جماهیر شوروی در غالب یک داستان عاطفی.
نگاهی نو در ادبیات مهاجرت با تأکید بر جایگاه هنرمند.
ترکیبی هوشمندانه از تراژدی مهاجرت و رؤیای آمریکایی.
بیان دغدغه‌ها� سیاسی، اجتماعی و دینی در قالبی استعاری و با طنزی کنایی.
پرداختن غیرکلیشه‌ا� به روابط عاطفی و زناشویی.
روایت فروپاشی اتحاد جماهیر شوروی در غالب یک داستان عاطفی.
October 3, 2021
I'm writing this review from the position of an unconventional reader. I came across this book in my research of a lost relative. This relative of mine was a painter from Russia who immigrated to the US. In doing my research, I learned that this fictional book was written, or more so inspired, by him and his death. I know very little about him in reality so I cannot tell you how close to reality the book is, but that, in all honesty, is part of the pain and magic of reading this book. Ulitskaya beautiful captures the transience of life and the bonds we create along the way, how important they are in making a place our home. She writes about the mindset and experience of immigrants in such a way that is heart-wrenching and relatable at the same time. Reading this book as fiction but knowing that it had connections to a member of my family that I didn't know of, left many questions on my mind. How close to reality is the story? Despite my connection, I would recommend this book to anyone. It has instantly become one of my favorite books.
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