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Ο Αποτυχημένος
Ο αφηγητής είναι ένας μεσόκοπος Αυστριακός πιανίστας, που κατά τις αρχές της δεκαετίας του ΄50 παρακολούθησε μαζί με τον Καναδό Γκλεν Γκουλντ και τον φίλο του Βέρτχαϊμερ έναν κύκλο μαθημάτων του διάσημου πιανίστα Χόροβιτς. Οι τρεις έμεναν στο ίδιο σπίτι, έπαιζαν μαζί μουσική, αλλά ο Γκλεν Γκουλντ τους άφησε ήδη από τότε πολύ πίσω, με το ταλέντο του, την αφοσίωση του στην τέχνη και το τέλειο παίξιμό του. Ο αφηγητής γράφει τώρα μια εργασία για τον Γκλεν Γκουλντ, τον σπουδαιότερο δεξιοτέχνη του αιώνα μας, που, στο κορυφαίο σημείο της δόξας του, σταμάτησε τις συναυλίες και έπαθε τελικά αποπληξία παίζοντας στο πιάνο τις "Παραλλαγές Γκόλντμπεργκ" του Μπαχ. Παίρνει τότε ο αφηγητής ένα τηλεγράφημα που του γνωστοποιεί το θάνατο του Βέρτχαϊμερ. Κι αρχίζουν τότε να ξετυλίγονται οι αναμνήσεις για τον Βέρτχαϊμερ, που τον είχε κάποτε αποκαλέσει ο Γκλεν Γκουλντ "αποτυχημένο".
216 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1983
587 people are currently reading
23.7k people want to read
About the author
Thomas Bernhard
306books2,275followersThomas Bernhard was an Austrian writer who ranks among the most distinguished German-speaking writers of the second half of the 20th century.
Although internationally he’s most acclaimed because of his novels, he was also a prolific playwright. His characters are often at work on a lifetime and never-ending major project while they deal with themes such as suicide, madness and obsession, and, as Bernhard did, a love-hate relationship with Austria. His prose is tumultuous but sober at the same time, philosophic by turns, with a musical cadence and plenty of black humor.
He started publishing in the year 1963 with the novel Frost. His last published work, appearing in the year 1986, was Extinction. Some of his best-known works include The Loser (about a student’s fictionalized relationship with the pianist Glenn Gould), Wittgenstein’s Nephew, and Woodcutters.
Although internationally he’s most acclaimed because of his novels, he was also a prolific playwright. His characters are often at work on a lifetime and never-ending major project while they deal with themes such as suicide, madness and obsession, and, as Bernhard did, a love-hate relationship with Austria. His prose is tumultuous but sober at the same time, philosophic by turns, with a musical cadence and plenty of black humor.
He started publishing in the year 1963 with the novel Frost. His last published work, appearing in the year 1986, was Extinction. Some of his best-known works include The Loser (about a student’s fictionalized relationship with the pianist Glenn Gould), Wittgenstein’s Nephew, and Woodcutters.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,281 reviews
August 28, 2022
Loser is an irrational tale told by an irrational man about his irrational friend � a triumph of paranoia� Music� Music of spheres� Music of madness�
Is madness cacophony? Or is it harmony? Does music ruin musicians? It had already destroyed so many...
The so-called intellectual consumes himself in what he considers pathbreaking work and in the end has only succeeded in making himself ridiculous, whether he’s called Schopenhauer or Nietzsche, it doesn’t matter, even if he was Kleist or Voltaire we still see a pitiful being who has misused his head and finally driven himself into nonsense. Who’s been rolled over and passed over by history. We’ve locked up the great thinkers in our bookcases, from which they keep staring at us, sentenced to eternal ridicule.
Is madness cacophony? Or is it harmony? Does music ruin musicians? It had already destroyed so many...
November 20, 2019
In most of his fictions—including this novella—the Austrian Thomas Bernhard insults everything Austrian. In fact, Bernhard declared in his will that every one of his literary works in perpetuity must not be printed or presented within the state of Austria, or within the geographical boundaries of the present state of Austria, whatever that area may in the future be called. Yet he never made an attempt to emigrate; he lived in Austria all his life.
Bernhard was a man of contradictions, and his works--The Loser, for instance—are full of contradictions too. They are filled with solitary characters who spew forth spleen and invective, loathing the seediness of everyday life, and yet these solitaries are often bound together by some ideal which points beyond pettiness, some absolute which both inspires and degrades them. In Losers that ideal is music.
What plot there is, is simple. In 1953, the unnamed Narrator and the “loser� Wertheimer, both advanced students of piano, met at the Mozarteum in Salzburg, intending to study with Horowitz. There, one day, standing just outside a practice room, they heard Glenn Gould playing the Goldberg Variations. Although the three become friends, the narrator and Wertheimer both knew perfection when they heard it, and from that moment their ambition to play serious piano began to die. Before the monologue that is The Loser begins, the narrator has learned that Wertheimer has committed suicide, and he begins to examine—in obsessive detail—the friendship of these three men: how both he and Wertheimer were not like Gould, and how he himself is not like Wertheimer.
If you like the bleak humor of Beckett's novels or the rants of the later Ligotti (My Work is Not Yet Done comes to mind) you will probably like this novella. But Bernhard brings a wealth of ironies all his own.
I'll end with the novella's first anti-Austrian rant, this one specifically about Salzburg:
...Salzburg, which at bottom is the sworn enemy of all art and culture, a cretinous provincial dump with stupid people and cold walls where everything without exception is eventually made cretinous....The town of Salzburg, which today is freshly painted in even its darkest corners and is even more disgusting than it was twenty-eight years ago was and is antagonistic to everything of value in a human being, and in time destroys it....The people of Salzburg have always been dreadful, like their climate, and when I enter the town today not only is my judgment confirmed, everything is even more dreadful....Glenn was charmed by the magic of this town for three days, then he saw that its magic, as they like to call it, was rotten, that basically its beauty is disgusting and that the people living in this disgusting beauty are vulgar. The climate of the lower Alps makes for emotionally disturbed people who fall victim to cretinism at a very early age and who in time become malevolent, I said.
May 30, 2017
«Η από μακρού προσχεδιασμένη αυτοκτονία δεν είναι αυθόρμητη πράξη απόγνωσης».
Τόμας Μπέρνχαρντ, ο εμμονικός αναχωρητής. Ο κυνικός φυγάς προς την κάθοδο της αντίφασης και της αμφιβολίας.
Σημαία του η ματαιότητα. Σύντροφοι του,
η εκ πεποιθήσεως μοναχικότητα , ο θάνατος, η αυτοχειρία , η ακούσια εγκατάλειψη και η απογοήτευση.
Παρόλα αυτά,σε όλα του τα γραπτά νοήματα προεξάρχουσα θέση έχουν η αγάπη,η ανθρωπιά,η συμπόνοια και η φιλοσοφική καινοτομία που αρνείται να παραδεχτεί την αποτυχία.
Που κατακρίνει την υποκειμενικότητα ως καταπιεστική εξουσία σε όλες της κοινωνικές εκφάνσεις.
Που με ένταση και συνειδητή οργή αρνείται να εκφράσει ως αποτέλεσμα προσωπικής εξέλιξης:
Δυστυχώς κύριοι ΔΕΝ πετύχατε,ΔΕΝ καταφέρατε,
ΔΕΝ απελευθερωθήκατε,ΔΕ δημιουργήσατε,
ΔΕ ζήσατε...
«Λέμε μια λέξη και εκμηδενίζουμε έναν άνθρωπο»
Ο Μπέρνχαρντ ως αφηγητής και μοναδικός επιζών μιας παράξενης παρέας τριών ανδρών φανατικά αποτυχημένων.
Ακούμε τον εσωτερικό του εξομολογητικό παράλογο λόγο.
Τριών ανδρών ερωτευμένων με τη δυστυχία και την οδύνη.
Αιτία της επιτυχίας είναι το αδιέξοδο και η αυτολύπηση που οδηγούν με μαθηματική ακρίβεια στην αυτοκτονία, εκούσια ή ακούσια.
Παρόλα αυτά καταφέρνει με την εμμονή, την επανάληψη και την περιδίνηση ομοίων καταστάσεων και γεγονότων να συνδέει θετικά την αποτυχία ως προσωπική εξέλιξη:
Συγχαρητήρια κύριοι αποτύχατε,
αποποιηθήκατε τη ζωή,βουτηχτήκατε στην παράνοια και την μεμψιμοιρία,
σταματήσατε τον αγώνα σας απο εγωκεντρικά συγκριτικά,
λατρέψατε τη φυγή της αντιστροφής και καταστραφήκατε.
Με έναν αριστουργηματικό τρόπο καταφέρνει να πείθει με θετική παρόρμηση πως η δυστυχία της αποτυχίας είναι νόημα και βάση ζωής.
Δεν είναι σκληρός μηδενιστής,είναι ένας οπαδός της ανθρωπιάς και της πίστης.
Ένας αντιδραστικός πολέμιος που ακυρώνει με κάθε τρόπο την αρνητικότητα και προάγει μέσα απο άπειρες αντιθέσεις,παρακμή,περιφρόνηση και αντιστρόφως ανάλογη κοινωνική κριτική την αναρχία της σαρωτικής ψυχικής προπαγάνδας.
Ο αφηγητής της παρακμής ως ιδεολογία και στάση ζωής.
Η γραφή του συγκλονιστική,υποβλητική και πολέμια.
Πραγματεύεται τους εμμονικούς ψυχαναγκασμούς,την πληρότητα μέσα απο τη δυστυχία, την ευτυχία της αποτυχίας και την τραγικά επαναλαμβανόμενη σημασία που μας οδηγεί σε μια αναπόφευκτη επιρροή προς την ακύρωση,την κατάθλιψη και την υπονόμευση θεσμών,αξιών και προσδοκιών.
Ο αποτυχημένος..κρύβει τεράστιες δυνάμεις στο σκοτεινό σύμπαν του συγγραφέα.
Δυνάμεις αντίστασης,νοήματος,προσδοκιών,εμπειρίας,επιθυμίας και γελοίας ματαιότητας συγκριτικά με το θάνατο.
Η αποτυχία δεν είναι το αντίθετο της επιτυχίας, είναι να σταματάς την προσπάθεια...!
Καλή ανάγνωση!!
Πολλούς ασπασμούς!
Τόμας Μπέρνχαρντ, ο εμμονικός αναχωρητής. Ο κυνικός φυγάς προς την κάθοδο της αντίφασης και της αμφιβολίας.
Σημαία του η ματαιότητα. Σύντροφοι του,
η εκ πεποιθήσεως μοναχικότητα , ο θάνατος, η αυτοχειρία , η ακούσια εγκατάλειψη και η απογοήτευση.
Παρόλα αυτά,σε όλα του τα γραπτά νοήματα προεξάρχουσα θέση έχουν η αγάπη,η ανθρωπιά,η συμπόνοια και η φιλοσοφική καινοτομία που αρνείται να παραδεχτεί την αποτυχία.
Που κατακρίνει την υποκειμενικότητα ως καταπιεστική εξουσία σε όλες της κοινωνικές εκφάνσεις.
Που με ένταση και συνειδητή οργή αρνείται να εκφράσει ως αποτέλεσμα προσωπικής εξέλιξης:
Δυστυχώς κύριοι ΔΕΝ πετύχατε,ΔΕΝ καταφέρατε,
ΔΕΝ απελευθερωθήκατε,ΔΕ δημιουργήσατε,
ΔΕ ζήσατε...
«Λέμε μια λέξη και εκμηδενίζουμε έναν άνθρωπο»
Ο Μπέρνχαρντ ως αφηγητής και μοναδικός επιζών μιας παράξενης παρέας τριών ανδρών φανατικά αποτυχημένων.
Ακούμε τον εσωτερικό του εξομολογητικό παράλογο λόγο.
Τριών ανδρών ερωτευμένων με τη δυστυχία και την οδύνη.
Αιτία της επιτυχίας είναι το αδιέξοδο και η αυτολύπηση που οδηγούν με μαθηματική ακρίβεια στην αυτοκτονία, εκούσια ή ακούσια.
Παρόλα αυτά καταφέρνει με την εμμονή, την επανάληψη και την περιδίνηση ομοίων καταστάσεων και γεγονότων να συνδέει θετικά την αποτυχία ως προσωπική εξέλιξη:
Συγχαρητήρια κύριοι αποτύχατε,
αποποιηθήκατε τη ζωή,βουτηχτήκατε στην παράνοια και την μεμψιμοιρία,
σταματήσατε τον αγώνα σας απο εγωκεντρικά συγκριτικά,
λατρέψατε τη φυγή της αντιστροφής και καταστραφήκατε.
Με έναν αριστουργηματικό τρόπο καταφέρνει να πείθει με θετική παρόρμηση πως η δυστυχία της αποτυχίας είναι νόημα και βάση ζωής.
Δεν είναι σκληρός μηδενιστής,είναι ένας οπαδός της ανθρωπιάς και της πίστης.
Ένας αντιδραστικός πολέμιος που ακυρώνει με κάθε τρόπο την αρνητικότητα και προάγει μέσα απο άπειρες αντιθέσεις,παρακμή,περιφρόνηση και αντιστρόφως ανάλογη κοινωνική κριτική την αναρχία της σαρωτικής ψυχικής προπαγάνδας.
Ο αφηγητής της παρακμής ως ιδεολογία και στάση ζωής.
Η γραφή του συγκλονιστική,υποβλητική και πολέμια.
Πραγματεύεται τους εμμονικούς ψυχαναγκασμούς,την πληρότητα μέσα απο τη δυστυχία, την ευτυχία της αποτυχίας και την τραγικά επαναλαμβανόμενη σημασία που μας οδηγεί σε μια αναπόφευκτη επιρροή προς την ακύρωση,την κατάθλιψη και την υπονόμευση θεσμών,αξιών και προσδοκιών.
Ο αποτυχημένος..κρύβει τεράστιες δυνάμεις στο σκοτεινό σύμπαν του συγγραφέα.
Δυνάμεις αντίστασης,νοήματος,προσδοκιών,εμπειρίας,επιθυμίας και γελοίας ματαιότητας συγκριτικά με το θάνατο.
Η αποτυχία δεν είναι το αντίθετο της επιτυχίας, είναι να σταματάς την προσπάθεια...!
Καλή ανάγνωση!!
Πολλούς ασπασμούς!
October 25, 2017
Well, here we are again in the land of obsessive compulsive disorder, suicidal rage and death panic. It's like Bernhard has one channel and one channel only: sturm und drang, but without the post-Enlightenment restraint. How did put it: "hatred of the various grays / the mountain sends...." Bernhard's satirical narrators are against everything: especially mountains, in this case the Alps, nature, people, society, art, any and all institutions, the church, the state, you name it. No culture, usually Austrian, can have a single redemptive aspect in its favor. One might think: 'Oh, the mountain air is great! I love to hike. Might take in a movie later.' For Bernhard's characters, there can be no such trivial daily existence. If we do hear about it, it's acidly deprecated. Death is inevitable; birth was never asked for. One is simply hurled into the "existence machine" by one's parents, probably drunk at the time. How dare they subject one to life and death! They should be put up against a wall and shot! If there's humor in Bernhard, it's of the gallows variety. Whistling in the graveyard. Bernhard's novels are voice novels, not surprising for a playwright, his other literary stronghold. They are almost entirely interior monologues with little or no description. Almost always one ranting narrator, pent up, unloads as if from a stage. This can be entertaining, but the cumulative effect is gloom. You can't get intimate with Bernhard as you would, say, with Styron. That's how consuming his negativity is. Like a horrific spectacle from which one cannot avert one's eyes. Bernhard may be a complete original, I'm not sure, but take heed. His art is dark, blackened by madness, numbing like opium.
April 13, 2023
It is a question of a shipwreck in this fantastic novel by Thomas Bernhard, where a narrator monologues for nearly 200 pages. It is precisely the narrator, the only one still alive, in his fifties, of three men who met at the Salzburg Mozarteum to take piano lessons from a confident Horowitz (nothing less !). The narrator finds himself alone on the beach, abandoned by Wertheimer, suicidal, and Glenn Gould (nothing less!) dies suddenly of cerebral congestion. Their disappearance leads him to reflect on his destiny, past, music, and place in an uncomfortable and discouraging world. The author tells us that the castaway is Wertheimer, ironically called the sinking by Glenn Gould. But a shipwrecked man is, for me, a survivor. It is the one who has resisted (perhaps despite himself) the assaults of an implacable life. As Glenn Gould had sunk before him, Wertheimer fell, showing that genius does not protect from despair.
May 3, 2022
Did Thomas Bernhard ever get to say a good word about anyone? He could have been pulled from a car wreck by a fellow Austrian, only to turn to the hero in question and with resentment become oppressive. Regardless, I just love reading him, the structure of his work is different to say the least, one long paragraph, repeated sentences, treating his characters as frivolous morans who do nothing but complain. I take my hat of to him, he makes me laugh and wince at the same time!. The more I read of him, the more I want to read of him. I would have gladly bought him a beer, but still would have felt a bit on edge in his company whilst at the table.
The Loser goes about in a humorous and absurd way of exploring the universal experience of encountering someone better than you in an activity that, prior to the encounter, you felt you were sitting at the head of the table as top dog. Some people walk away from such an experience somewhat chastened and then chalk it up as a normal part of life to simply brush under the carpet with the dust, dead spiders, and crumbs of food. In other words, they move on, forget it. Other people hang themselves from a tree outside their sister’s home. We have three aspiring concert pianists-Glenn Gould (drawn from real life), an Austrian pianist named Wertheimer (the notional protagonist) and the unnamed narrator-who become friends in 1953 in Salzburg while studying piano with the great Horowitz. Wertheimer and the narrator have dedicated their lives to becoming piano virtuosos, but one day they chance to overhear Gould playing Bach's Goldberg Variations and his genius destroys them. Gould gracelessly adds insult to injury by calling Wertheimer a loser, thus Wertheimer is the loser of the novel's title. It is this fact that these two cannot seem to reconcile, one quits the piano altogether, and the other just can't be bothered with existing.
Bernhard doesn't treat his characters that would have us believe these men are artists with a higher meaning and sensibility than we mere mortals�, he loves playing in anyway he sees fit to turn even the highbrows in bumbling fools. It's difficult to feel sympathetic with anyone, but that's the Bernhard way, you either love it, or you don't. With Bernhard there really isn't a middle ground to plonk your derrière down on. Above all he is ironic, and the reader can never be sure whether Bernhard means what he says or is larking around with us. His central characters generally contradict themselves, digress, fall into hyperbolic rants, obsess, trapped, as it were, in a logorrheic paralysis. For anyone looking for plot, forget it, in a ways nothing really happens for over a hundred pages, Bernhard emphasizes the narrator's act of thinking and not acting, it's all about the mind and not the physicalities.
It's important to recognize that Bernhard's texts are dense with a kind of rhetorical elaboration, that it is possible to analyze much of the text as a regurgitated string quartet playing away in such a way that a certain amount of material is made to vibrate and echo from sentence to sentence and page to page making one feel queasy. The novel is fueled by a peculiar intensity, and his unique prose style infused with a venomous extreme bitterness is something that simply seeps into one's consciousness with no intention of leaving any time soon. My second Bernhard in a couple of weeks. For me, this just wasn't quite as good as the other - Wittgenstein's Nephew.
But still, a solid 4/5.
November 4, 2018
“El segundo es el primero de los perdedores� (Ayrton Senna)y aquel que puede llegar a vivir ese fracaso de la forma más cruel, añado yo. Este es el leitmotiv del libro, o uno de ellos, y recuerda mucho al conflicto Mozart-Salieri de la película Amadeus (aunque el libro es un año anterior a la película para mí es treinta años posterior).
Ello podía haberme influido negativamente: un tema que ya estaba bien tratado por la película, al que poco, pensaba, se podía añadir. Y si a eso le añadimos que es un drama en torno a un triángulo de personajes misántropos y elitistas, en el peor sentido de la palabra, y que nos llega por medio del discurso mental de un ser antipático que conforman una prosa incómoda, que por momentos me llegó a parecer torpe, la verdad, es que no parecía tener mucho futuro conmigo. Sin embargo he quedado fascinado y con ganas de más Bernhard, de mucho más.
El libro, junto a la película citada, me trajo a la mente otra novela que tenía olvidada -"La muerte del adversario", de Hans Keilson- que, de hecho, no me gustó demasiado, en buena parte porque me humilló en unas cuantas ocasiones en las que no entendí nada, pero que también reflexionaba en cierto modo acerca de esa felicidad que se extrae de la infelicidad y que es, en mi opinión, el tema fundamental de este libro. En su libro, Keilson intenta explicarnos el comportamiento, siempre muy chocante para mí, de los judíos ante la opresión nazi y venía a decir, o eso creo, algo así como que los seres humanos tenemos una necesidad perentoria de tener enemigos, bien para perseguirlos o bien para que nos persigan. Nuestro “mDz� parecía necesitar a los dos.
En este sentido, contaba Keilson una leyenda que viene al pelo:
El Zar recibe como regalo una manada de alces. Estos son llevados a un paraje ideal, que, para su protección, es declarado parque natural. En un primer momento todo va bien, los alces se adaptan estupendamente a su nuevo hogar, pero pasado un tiempo los alces empiezan a morir uno a uno. Muchos expertos intentan explicar el enigma sin conseguirlo. Como último recurso llaman a un experto residente en el lugar del que proceden los alces. Tras meses de observación llega a una conclusión: los alces se mueren porque les faltan los lobos.
October 3, 2017
Bernhard is amazing, and this book perfectly captures his obsession with obsession. His narrator is a music student who realizes he's a failure when he, Glenn Gould, and another pianist study together, and nobody can hold a candle to Gould, the supreme genius. It's told in Bernhard's inimitable style, as one long rambling looping paragraph that takes ideas and beholds them from several angles, all the while maintaining a relentless energy that just takes my breath away.
June 16, 2012
A single paragraph. One breathless monologue. Genius. Failure. Perfection. Obsession. Friendship. Death.
The Genius, the Philosopher, the Loser.
The musical genius of Glenn Gould, the pinnacle of art, is what serves as the reference defining all three of their lives. Werthemier - the titular Loser - finds himself woefully dwarfed by the perfection of Gould as a piano artist. The frustration of recognizing his worthlessness and knowing that he will never be able to reach the top leads him to give up his piano career. And this failure haunts him for the rest of his life. In his bitter obsession, he gradually advances on a path of self-destruction. The manner in which he commits suicide comes as a last-ditch effort to do something on his own terms, a desperate act of rebel against his life of failure.
The narrator - the philosopher - is similarly humiliated in his musical aspirations. Unlike Werthemier, he does manage to push the frustration to the back of his mind. But he never does come out of Gould's shadow. He never finds a new direction to his life and spends years writing an rewriting and essay on Gould.
Through this internal monologue, in a distraught and obsessive manner, the narrator attempts to come to terms with the deaths of both Gould and Werthemier. His whole life can only be defined in terms of the relationship of this trio and he realizes that their deaths automatically render his life void of any meaning. In the process, he also appears to decisively arrive at the conclusion that Werthemier's fate was sealed the moment Gould tagged him as the Loser. Clocks having been set in motion then, Werthemier's suicide was inevitable. And thus the narrator unburdens himself in knowing that there is nothing he could have done to avoid the suicide. We often find the narrator pointing out similar characteristics between himself and Gould (self-delusion?), which clearly set Werthemier apart from the two. While he admits to portraying Werthemier unfavorably, this portrayal also provides him with a way to assure himself that he was not headed down the same path as Werthemier. It really was Werthemier's own personality that he fell victim to.
The relationship that the three share begs the question - what if their paths hadn't crossed with Gould? Perhaps they would have still led a life of being nothing, Gould simply being the excuse they found. However, their lives are so heavily clouded by that of Gould, that it seems impossible to even begin to imagine Gould's absence. This relationship was rooted in their common idea and understanding of music, and it forged a lifelong bond between the three. The intellect of the two, the loser and the philosopher, was also responsible for their failure. Because it takes some acumen to even recognize a genius and be aware of one's own abilities and deficiencies. On the other hand, I cannot factor their wealth out of the equation either. These are two people who do not have to worry about earning a living and thus have the privilege to spend their lives fixated on just one idea. Had that not been the case, sooner or later, the basic necessities of life would have pulled their attention away and forced them to do something with their lives and perhaps lead a life of being good enough, but not the best.
The novel ends with an interesting afterword that throws some light on Bernhard's life and his writing. His later novels, including The Loser, contain characters which carry an image of the author in themselves. In the present case, Gould is meant to be doppelganger for Bernhard. Bernhard having studied music, his writing has been informed by music as well. The afterword compares his writing to Gould's music:
"Here it is Bach's Goldberg variations, played by Glenn Gould, that provides as it were the basso continuo for Bernhard's own deliberately droning repetitions and variations. With the monologistic, uninterrupted flow of its sentences, the novel conjures up the image of a singer fighting to sustain his breath to the end of an impossibly long, embellished aria."
Another well-known aspect of Bernhard's personality was his hatred for his country Austria. Not only did he face multiple controversies while alive, he delivered a parting blow in death as well:
"Whatever I have written, whether published by me during my lifetime or as part of my literary papers still existing after my death, shall not be performed, printed or even recited for the duration of legal copyright within the borders of Austria, however this state identifies itself." <...> This parting slap in the face of his native country thus came not only as a surprise; it came from the hand of a dead man, whose laughter rang out from the grave.
December 31, 2023
4,5�
Lo empecé sin estar convencida. Al final me ha gustado mucho y dejado con ganas de más.
Dice la sinopsis:
A raíz del suicidio de su mejor amigo, un hombre viaja hasta su antiguo hogar en Austria. Allí rememora la pasión que ambos compartían por el piano, y la turbia amistad que los unió, trastocada al conocer al virtuoso Glenn Gould.
Thomas Bernhard nos adentra en las motivaciones más complejas de la psicología humana, y nos lleva a reflexionar acerca de los ambiguos sentimientos de admiración, frustración y envidia, de la gradual erosión del carácter y de la pulsión nihilista que acompaña una ambición desmedida. Ambientada en una Europa central ya en decadencia, esta gran novela supone también un cuestionamiento de los valores de superación y excelencia tan característicos de nuestras sociedades.
Mis impresiones:
Llevo un buen rato dándole vueltas al porqué me ha gustado tanto este libro. Lo tenía todo en contra, la estructura narrativa, los personajes e incluso la historia en sí. Cuando llevaba unas veinte páginas estuve a punto de abandonarlo harta de tanto piano y de tanto "virtuosismo frustrado". No lo hice, seguí leyendo un poco más (es una novela corta), y ya no lo solté hasta acabarlo.
La trama gira en torno a tres amigos, a cuál más desagradable. Se conocen como estudiantes de piano en el Mozarteum de Salzburgo. Los tres son buenos, pero uno de ellos brilla con luz propia, así que, incapaces de enfrentarse a la idea de no poder superarle, de no ser los mejores, los otros dos abandonan su carrera como pianistas. Con este tema de fondo Bernhard desgrana una serie de reflexiones sobre las motivaciones intrínsecas de cada uno, lo complejo de la psicología humana, la frustración, la envidia, el miedo a un fracaso entendido de forma sumamente estricta (solo triunfa el primero), la obsesión, el rechazo, el suicidio y la muerte.
"Wertheimer había puesto todas sus aspiraciones en la carrera de virtuoso pianístico, como tengo que decir, yo no había puesto ninguna aspiración en esa carrera de virtuoso, ésa era la diferencia. Por eso, él se sintió mortalmente afectado por los compases de Goldberg de Glenn, no yo. Ser el mejor o no ser nada había sido siempre para mí mi pretensión, en todos los aspectos. Por eso acabé finalmente también en la calle del Prado, en un anonimato total, ocupado en mi insensatez de escritor".
La novela se narra desde el punto de vista de uno de los tres virtuosos. Es una especie de torrente de recuerdos, no siempre lineal, aunque sí ordenado. El tono es oscuro, asfixiante, incómodo. La prosa a menudo da vueltas y más vueltas sobre una frase o sobre una idea, exactamente como lo haría una persona que no quiere contar una historia, sino que la rememora y la piensa para sí misma. Es una estructura nada fácil de la que pocos escritores salen airosos. Bernhard lo logra o al menos lo ha logrado conmigo. Creo que es una narración de tipo binario, sin término medio, o te atrapa o la abandonas.
Los personajes no son de los que caen simpáticos. Tres egoístas, egocéntricos y misántropos de libro, además de snobs de solemnidad y con su punto paranoico en más de una ocasión. Es notable como el autor en solo ciento cincuenta y dos páginas y contado desde el pensamiento de uno de ellos, consigue caracterizar a los tres.
Interesante el traje que le hace a Salzburgo (y a sus habitantes), como capital de los melómanos, a la enseñanza de la música y del arte en general e incluso a mitos aceptados como las pretendidas bondades de la vida en el campo.
En conclusión. Una novela de estructura complicada, con la idea del fracaso como eje central. A mí me ha gustado mucho, pero entiendo que no es para todo el mundo.
Lo empecé sin estar convencida. Al final me ha gustado mucho y dejado con ganas de más.
Dice la sinopsis:
A raíz del suicidio de su mejor amigo, un hombre viaja hasta su antiguo hogar en Austria. Allí rememora la pasión que ambos compartían por el piano, y la turbia amistad que los unió, trastocada al conocer al virtuoso Glenn Gould.
Thomas Bernhard nos adentra en las motivaciones más complejas de la psicología humana, y nos lleva a reflexionar acerca de los ambiguos sentimientos de admiración, frustración y envidia, de la gradual erosión del carácter y de la pulsión nihilista que acompaña una ambición desmedida. Ambientada en una Europa central ya en decadencia, esta gran novela supone también un cuestionamiento de los valores de superación y excelencia tan característicos de nuestras sociedades.
Mis impresiones:
Llevo un buen rato dándole vueltas al porqué me ha gustado tanto este libro. Lo tenía todo en contra, la estructura narrativa, los personajes e incluso la historia en sí. Cuando llevaba unas veinte páginas estuve a punto de abandonarlo harta de tanto piano y de tanto "virtuosismo frustrado". No lo hice, seguí leyendo un poco más (es una novela corta), y ya no lo solté hasta acabarlo.
La trama gira en torno a tres amigos, a cuál más desagradable. Se conocen como estudiantes de piano en el Mozarteum de Salzburgo. Los tres son buenos, pero uno de ellos brilla con luz propia, así que, incapaces de enfrentarse a la idea de no poder superarle, de no ser los mejores, los otros dos abandonan su carrera como pianistas. Con este tema de fondo Bernhard desgrana una serie de reflexiones sobre las motivaciones intrínsecas de cada uno, lo complejo de la psicología humana, la frustración, la envidia, el miedo a un fracaso entendido de forma sumamente estricta (solo triunfa el primero), la obsesión, el rechazo, el suicidio y la muerte.
"Wertheimer había puesto todas sus aspiraciones en la carrera de virtuoso pianístico, como tengo que decir, yo no había puesto ninguna aspiración en esa carrera de virtuoso, ésa era la diferencia. Por eso, él se sintió mortalmente afectado por los compases de Goldberg de Glenn, no yo. Ser el mejor o no ser nada había sido siempre para mí mi pretensión, en todos los aspectos. Por eso acabé finalmente también en la calle del Prado, en un anonimato total, ocupado en mi insensatez de escritor".
La novela se narra desde el punto de vista de uno de los tres virtuosos. Es una especie de torrente de recuerdos, no siempre lineal, aunque sí ordenado. El tono es oscuro, asfixiante, incómodo. La prosa a menudo da vueltas y más vueltas sobre una frase o sobre una idea, exactamente como lo haría una persona que no quiere contar una historia, sino que la rememora y la piensa para sí misma. Es una estructura nada fácil de la que pocos escritores salen airosos. Bernhard lo logra o al menos lo ha logrado conmigo. Creo que es una narración de tipo binario, sin término medio, o te atrapa o la abandonas.
Los personajes no son de los que caen simpáticos. Tres egoístas, egocéntricos y misántropos de libro, además de snobs de solemnidad y con su punto paranoico en más de una ocasión. Es notable como el autor en solo ciento cincuenta y dos páginas y contado desde el pensamiento de uno de ellos, consigue caracterizar a los tres.
Interesante el traje que le hace a Salzburgo (y a sus habitantes), como capital de los melómanos, a la enseñanza de la música y del arte en general e incluso a mitos aceptados como las pretendidas bondades de la vida en el campo.
En conclusión. Una novela de estructura complicada, con la idea del fracaso como eje central. A mí me ha gustado mucho, pero entiendo que no es para todo el mundo.
November 14, 2017
“But of course the world consists only of absurd ideas.�
What a soul-piercing read... After I finished by I thought: this is how you write a book! Or well, a long internal monologue that rambles on and on without any pauses. It’s simply amazing satire with a lot of absurdism, nihilism, and self-destructiveness narrated in one breath.
“All my tendencies are deadly ones, he once said to me, everything in me has a deadly tendency to it, it's in my genes, as Wertheimer said, I thought. He always read books that were obsessed with suicide, with disease and death, I thought while standing in the inn, books that described human misery, the hopeless, meaningless, senseless world in which everything is always devastating and deadly. That's why he especially loved Dostoevsky and all his disciples, Russian literature in general, because it actually is a deadly literature, but also the depressing French philosophers.�
But even that word view is mocked because it’s a sign of social and economic privilege.
“She herself had never had enough money and never enough time and hadn’t even been unhappy once, in contrast to those she called refined gentlemen, who always had enough money and enough time and constantly talked about their unhappiness. �
It touches on topics that really occupied me throughout life- art, obsession, the meaning of success and failure, narrow-mindedness of all social classes. There is a great charm in how Bernhard deals with subjects of giving up, loss of ambition, hatred of virtuosity, jealousy and also the painful realization that you don’t want in life what you thought you wanted for a very long time.
“When we meet the very best, we have to give up.�
“He wanted to be an artist, an artist of life wasn't enough for him, although precisely this concept provides everything we need to be happy if we think about it.�
Three characters (one of them witty narrator of the story) were studying to be the piano virtuosos, but only one of them was really genius, so the other two gave up on their ambitions and dreams. I read somewhere that the three characters can be analyzed as an Ego (narrator), Id (Wertheimer) and Superego (Glenn), which is such an interesting approach, that I will have on mind when I come back to this novel and I would like to analyze them in detail, there is so much material to be contemplated upon in this 180 pages long novel and I might write a longer review in the future.
I haven’t liked somebody writing like this since Virginia Woolf and Dostoyevsky, truly superb. It is not even that I intellectually agree with everything Bernhard writes (nihilistic, pessimistic and fatalistic fellow readers definitely would enjoy his thinking on the highest level) but it somehow resonates with me and shakes my soul, like a true piece of art that challenges you to see the world differently and wake up from your usual delusions.
“In theory we understand people, but in practice, we can't put up with them, I thought, deal with them for the most part reluctantly and always treat them from our point of view. We should observe and treat people not from our point of view but from all angles, I thought, associate with them in such a way that we can say we associate with them so to speak in a completely unbiased way, which however isn't possible, since we actually are always biased against everybody.�
I definitely think I will read so much more of his work, I’m completely in awe. Highly recommend to everyone.
What a soul-piercing read... After I finished by I thought: this is how you write a book! Or well, a long internal monologue that rambles on and on without any pauses. It’s simply amazing satire with a lot of absurdism, nihilism, and self-destructiveness narrated in one breath.
“All my tendencies are deadly ones, he once said to me, everything in me has a deadly tendency to it, it's in my genes, as Wertheimer said, I thought. He always read books that were obsessed with suicide, with disease and death, I thought while standing in the inn, books that described human misery, the hopeless, meaningless, senseless world in which everything is always devastating and deadly. That's why he especially loved Dostoevsky and all his disciples, Russian literature in general, because it actually is a deadly literature, but also the depressing French philosophers.�
But even that word view is mocked because it’s a sign of social and economic privilege.
“She herself had never had enough money and never enough time and hadn’t even been unhappy once, in contrast to those she called refined gentlemen, who always had enough money and enough time and constantly talked about their unhappiness. �
It touches on topics that really occupied me throughout life- art, obsession, the meaning of success and failure, narrow-mindedness of all social classes. There is a great charm in how Bernhard deals with subjects of giving up, loss of ambition, hatred of virtuosity, jealousy and also the painful realization that you don’t want in life what you thought you wanted for a very long time.
“When we meet the very best, we have to give up.�
“He wanted to be an artist, an artist of life wasn't enough for him, although precisely this concept provides everything we need to be happy if we think about it.�
Three characters (one of them witty narrator of the story) were studying to be the piano virtuosos, but only one of them was really genius, so the other two gave up on their ambitions and dreams. I read somewhere that the three characters can be analyzed as an Ego (narrator), Id (Wertheimer) and Superego (Glenn), which is such an interesting approach, that I will have on mind when I come back to this novel and I would like to analyze them in detail, there is so much material to be contemplated upon in this 180 pages long novel and I might write a longer review in the future.
I haven’t liked somebody writing like this since Virginia Woolf and Dostoyevsky, truly superb. It is not even that I intellectually agree with everything Bernhard writes (nihilistic, pessimistic and fatalistic fellow readers definitely would enjoy his thinking on the highest level) but it somehow resonates with me and shakes my soul, like a true piece of art that challenges you to see the world differently and wake up from your usual delusions.
“In theory we understand people, but in practice, we can't put up with them, I thought, deal with them for the most part reluctantly and always treat them from our point of view. We should observe and treat people not from our point of view but from all angles, I thought, associate with them in such a way that we can say we associate with them so to speak in a completely unbiased way, which however isn't possible, since we actually are always biased against everybody.�
I definitely think I will read so much more of his work, I’m completely in awe. Highly recommend to everyone.
November 1, 2023
A differenza dei precedenti Bernahrd finora letti, il personaggio centrale del romanzo (se romanzo lo possiamo chiamare) non è l’io narrante, ma una persona altra (Wertheimer) osservata e descritta dall’io narrante e utilizzata per ritrarre in negativo l’uomo geniale, rappresentato dal virtuoso di pianoforte Glenn Gould.
Questo sdoppiamento di prospettiva concede un po� d’aria a una scrittura e a temi che tendono all’asfittico.
Glenn Gould è tutto ciò che Wertheimer non è, e Wertheimer è un soccombente, un uomo da vicolo cieco, un uomo destinato al fallimento e all’infelicità. Perché è nato soccombente. Perché non può comprendere che ogni essere umano ha la sua unicità, e questa è la sola sua ancora di salvezza.
[“Wertheimer non era capace di vedere se stesso come un essere unico al mondo, mentre in effetti è così che ciascuno di noi può e deve concedersi di vedere se stesso se non vuole cadere in balìa della disperazione [...]. Non necessariamente dobbiamo essere dei genii per poter essere e per poterci riconoscere come unici al mondo, pensai�.]
Perché si incaponisce a essere ciò che non può essere. Perché non può vivere né solo né in compagnia. Perché dispensa negatività e annienta tutti quelli che lo circondano e potrebbero fornirgli aiuto. Perché si compiace del disprezzo che prova per se stesso.
[“Wertheimer si era innamorato, o addirittura era stato ammaliato dal proprio fallimento, pensai, e in questo fallimento si era incaponito fino alla fine [...] della propria infelicità è stato consapevole in ogni momento e di essa si è potuto rallegrare. [...] più che a ogni altra cosa si era abituato in maniera micidiale alla propria infelicità”]
Perché è un uomo divorato dall’invidia.
[“Wertheimeir ha invidiato a Glenn Gould perfino la morte”]
Quello che è doloroso, è riconoscersi in certi atteggiamenti e modi di essere del soccombente. Come al solito Bernhard affonda il coltello senza timore di esagerare. Ma è proprio questa sua esagerazione che, spingendo le sue affermazioni fino all’antinomia e raggiungendo effetti grotteschi, riesce a salvarlo e salva il lettore, con più di un sorriso o risata liberatoria.
Lo stile è il solito di Bernhard: ossessivo, martellante, ripetitivo, esagerato, come il monologo di un folle. Uno stile unico in cui, a ogni lettura di questo autore, è piacevole e doloroso immergersi.
Questo sdoppiamento di prospettiva concede un po� d’aria a una scrittura e a temi che tendono all’asfittico.
Glenn Gould è tutto ciò che Wertheimer non è, e Wertheimer è un soccombente, un uomo da vicolo cieco, un uomo destinato al fallimento e all’infelicità. Perché è nato soccombente. Perché non può comprendere che ogni essere umano ha la sua unicità, e questa è la sola sua ancora di salvezza.
[“Wertheimer non era capace di vedere se stesso come un essere unico al mondo, mentre in effetti è così che ciascuno di noi può e deve concedersi di vedere se stesso se non vuole cadere in balìa della disperazione [...]. Non necessariamente dobbiamo essere dei genii per poter essere e per poterci riconoscere come unici al mondo, pensai�.]
Perché si incaponisce a essere ciò che non può essere. Perché non può vivere né solo né in compagnia. Perché dispensa negatività e annienta tutti quelli che lo circondano e potrebbero fornirgli aiuto. Perché si compiace del disprezzo che prova per se stesso.
[“Wertheimer si era innamorato, o addirittura era stato ammaliato dal proprio fallimento, pensai, e in questo fallimento si era incaponito fino alla fine [...] della propria infelicità è stato consapevole in ogni momento e di essa si è potuto rallegrare. [...] più che a ogni altra cosa si era abituato in maniera micidiale alla propria infelicità”]
Perché è un uomo divorato dall’invidia.
[“Wertheimeir ha invidiato a Glenn Gould perfino la morte”]
Quello che è doloroso, è riconoscersi in certi atteggiamenti e modi di essere del soccombente. Come al solito Bernhard affonda il coltello senza timore di esagerare. Ma è proprio questa sua esagerazione che, spingendo le sue affermazioni fino all’antinomia e raggiungendo effetti grotteschi, riesce a salvarlo e salva il lettore, con più di un sorriso o risata liberatoria.
Lo stile è il solito di Bernhard: ossessivo, martellante, ripetitivo, esagerato, come il monologo di un folle. Uno stile unico in cui, a ogni lettura di questo autore, è piacevole e doloroso immergersi.
June 28, 2020
Αριστουργηματικά ισοπεδωτικό!
Δεν ξέρω τι να πρωτοθαυμασω, την ιστορία που με κράτησε μέχρι τέλους ή τον Τρόπο που γράφει που με περιελουσε σαν κρύο νερό μέσα στο χειμώνα;;; Ομολογώ όμως ότι είναι απαιτητικός όσον αφορά και το υπόβαθρο και την ανθρώπινη εμπειρία.
Η αυτοκτονία ενός ανθρώπου οδηγεί τον πρώην συμμαθητή του στην σχολή πιάνου σε σκέψεις όσον αφορά τον αυτόχειρα, τον ίδιο τον αφηγητή και τον έτερο συμμαθητή τους στην ανώτατη σχολή πιάνου στην Βιέννη· για τον ρόλο αυτό ο Μ επιλέγει τον διάσημο πιανίστα Γκλεν Γκουλντ, ένα φαινόμενο, μια ιδιοφυΐα που ξεπερνά τα ανθρώπινα όρια και στιγματίζει για πάντα τη ζωή των άλλων δύο!
Πάνω σε αυτή την διάσταση των τριών καλλιτεχνών του πιάνου και με αφορμή την σύγκριση των δύο ταλέντων με την ιδιοφυΐα του Γκλεν Γκουλντ ο Μ καταγραφεί σε έναν μοναδικό μονόλογο 215 σελίδων την εκμηδενιση και απονεκρωση τους ως ανθρώπων και ως καλλιτεχνών με την ιδιοφυΐα. Κυριολεκτικά καταβαραθρωνονται (πιο ταιριαστή λέξη για τον τίτλο) για όλη την υπόλοιπη ζωή τους...
Ο τρόπος όμως που επιλέγει να το διηγηθεί ο Μ είναι συγκλονιστικος, καθώς επι 160 σελίδες ο ήρωας περιμένοντας όρθιος στο φουαγιέ ενός ξενοδοχείου (!!!) αναμετράται με το παρελθόν και τις σκέψεις του (η φράση "...είπε, σκέφτηκα" συνδέει τις μνήμες με τις σκέψεις) για τον αυτόχειρα που δεν μπόρεσε ποτέ να αντιμετωπίσει την αποτυχία, που η σύγκριση με το φαινόμενο, του εκμηδενισε την ίδια τη ζωή. Ο αφηγητής οδηγείται σταδιακά σε μια αποκάλυψη του αυτόχειρα, Σκυλευοντας κυριολεκτικά πάνω του, πάνω στις λέξεις και στην μνήμη και μεταχειριζομενος αυτόν ως Αμβλύ αντίθετο στην Οξύνεια του Γκλεν Γκουλντ, καταλήγοντας ότι αυτή η χρόνια αποτυχία και καταβαραθρωση τον οδήγησε τελικά στην ψυχοπαθεία και εντέλει στην αυτοχειρία.
"Αν πεθάνει ο φίλος, τον καρφιτσωνουμε στερεά στις ρήσεις, στα λεγόμενα του, τον σκοτώνουμε με τα δικά του όπλα. Από τη μια μεριά ζει στα όσα είπε σε όλη του τη ζωή σε μας (και σε άλλους) από την άλλη μεριά τον σκοτώνουμε με αυτά. Είμαστε οι πιο αδυσώπητοι (εναντίον του!) όσον αφορά τα λεγόμενά του, τα σχέδια του, σκέφτηκα, αν δεν έχουμε γραπτά σχέδια, επειδή εκείνος, φρονίμως ποιών, τα εκμηδενισε, πηγαίνουμε στα λεγόμενα του για να τον εκμηδενισουμε, σκέφτηκα. Εκμεταλλευομαστε τα κατάλοιπα για να εκμηδενισουμε ακόμα περισσότερο εκείνον που μας τα κατελιπε, για να σκοτώσουμε ακόμα περισσότερο τον νεκρό και, αν δεν μας αφήσει τα εν λόγω εκμηδενιστικα κατάλοιπα, απλούστατα σοφιζομαστε· σοφιζομαστε λόγια του εναντίον του και λοιπά και λοιπά, σκέφτηκα. Οι κληρονόμοι είναι πολύ σκληροί, οι εναπομειναντες δεν γνωρίζουν τον παραμικρό οίκτο, σκέφτηκα. Αναζητούμε μαρτυρίες εναντίον αυτού και υπέρ ημών, σκέφτηκα. Λεηλατούμε όλα όσα μπορούν να στραφούν εναντίον του για να βελτιώσουμε τη θέση μας, σκέφτηκα, αυτή είναι η αλήθεια."
Δεν ξέρω τι να πρωτοθαυμασω, την ιστορία που με κράτησε μέχρι τέλους ή τον Τρόπο που γράφει που με περιελουσε σαν κρύο νερό μέσα στο χειμώνα;;; Ομολογώ όμως ότι είναι απαιτητικός όσον αφορά και το υπόβαθρο και την ανθρώπινη εμπειρία.
Η αυτοκτονία ενός ανθρώπου οδηγεί τον πρώην συμμαθητή του στην σχολή πιάνου σε σκέψεις όσον αφορά τον αυτόχειρα, τον ίδιο τον αφηγητή και τον έτερο συμμαθητή τους στην ανώτατη σχολή πιάνου στην Βιέννη· για τον ρόλο αυτό ο Μ επιλέγει τον διάσημο πιανίστα Γκλεν Γκουλντ, ένα φαινόμενο, μια ιδιοφυΐα που ξεπερνά τα ανθρώπινα όρια και στιγματίζει για πάντα τη ζωή των άλλων δύο!
Πάνω σε αυτή την διάσταση των τριών καλλιτεχνών του πιάνου και με αφορμή την σύγκριση των δύο ταλέντων με την ιδιοφυΐα του Γκλεν Γκουλντ ο Μ καταγραφεί σε έναν μοναδικό μονόλογο 215 σελίδων την εκμηδενιση και απονεκρωση τους ως ανθρώπων και ως καλλιτεχνών με την ιδιοφυΐα. Κυριολεκτικά καταβαραθρωνονται (πιο ταιριαστή λέξη για τον τίτλο) για όλη την υπόλοιπη ζωή τους...
Ο τρόπος όμως που επιλέγει να το διηγηθεί ο Μ είναι συγκλονιστικος, καθώς επι 160 σελίδες ο ήρωας περιμένοντας όρθιος στο φουαγιέ ενός ξενοδοχείου (!!!) αναμετράται με το παρελθόν και τις σκέψεις του (η φράση "...είπε, σκέφτηκα" συνδέει τις μνήμες με τις σκέψεις) για τον αυτόχειρα που δεν μπόρεσε ποτέ να αντιμετωπίσει την αποτυχία, που η σύγκριση με το φαινόμενο, του εκμηδενισε την ίδια τη ζωή. Ο αφηγητής οδηγείται σταδιακά σε μια αποκάλυψη του αυτόχειρα, Σκυλευοντας κυριολεκτικά πάνω του, πάνω στις λέξεις και στην μνήμη και μεταχειριζομενος αυτόν ως Αμβλύ αντίθετο στην Οξύνεια του Γκλεν Γκουλντ, καταλήγοντας ότι αυτή η χρόνια αποτυχία και καταβαραθρωση τον οδήγησε τελικά στην ψυχοπαθεία και εντέλει στην αυτοχειρία.
"Αν πεθάνει ο φίλος, τον καρφιτσωνουμε στερεά στις ρήσεις, στα λεγόμενα του, τον σκοτώνουμε με τα δικά του όπλα. Από τη μια μεριά ζει στα όσα είπε σε όλη του τη ζωή σε μας (και σε άλλους) από την άλλη μεριά τον σκοτώνουμε με αυτά. Είμαστε οι πιο αδυσώπητοι (εναντίον του!) όσον αφορά τα λεγόμενά του, τα σχέδια του, σκέφτηκα, αν δεν έχουμε γραπτά σχέδια, επειδή εκείνος, φρονίμως ποιών, τα εκμηδενισε, πηγαίνουμε στα λεγόμενα του για να τον εκμηδενισουμε, σκέφτηκα. Εκμεταλλευομαστε τα κατάλοιπα για να εκμηδενισουμε ακόμα περισσότερο εκείνον που μας τα κατελιπε, για να σκοτώσουμε ακόμα περισσότερο τον νεκρό και, αν δεν μας αφήσει τα εν λόγω εκμηδενιστικα κατάλοιπα, απλούστατα σοφιζομαστε· σοφιζομαστε λόγια του εναντίον του και λοιπά και λοιπά, σκέφτηκα. Οι κληρονόμοι είναι πολύ σκληροί, οι εναπομειναντες δεν γνωρίζουν τον παραμικρό οίκτο, σκέφτηκα. Αναζητούμε μαρτυρίες εναντίον αυτού και υπέρ ημών, σκέφτηκα. Λεηλατούμε όλα όσα μπορούν να στραφούν εναντίον του για να βελτιώσουμε τη θέση μας, σκέφτηκα, αυτή είναι η αλήθεια."
November 20, 2012
"everything is ridiculous if one thinks of death."
This is what Bernhard said as a part of his acceptance speech for the Austrian State Prize for Literature. So, Yeah! That’s the kind of man he was.
Along with many other writers, I discovered Bernhard through ŷ only. The next step is usually checking out the author’s profile, from where I found the following description:
Thomas Bernhard was an Austrian author, who ranges among the most distinguished German speaking writers of the second half of the 20th century.
It doesn’t convey much with its minimalistic approach but I got some idea. His influences were:
Samuel Beckett, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Franz Kafka
Those are some good influences, Right!
Next I went through the average ratings of his books, and to my pleasant surprise majority of them have more than 4 point rating but again, the no. of ratings are not that great, i.e. not many readers on ŷ read him that much and The Loser seems to be the most popular among all his books.
What Else? Yes! I analysed his profile picture and went to Google images to see some more of his photos. Now I don’t know why, but I convinced myself that he had the perfect face to feature in a Gangster Hollywood Movie, you know, like Public Enemies, in a negative role or along the same lines, but anything but positive.
And at the end I read one of his quotes: “Instead of committing suicide, people go to work.�
I la—u—gghh- hahaha..like crazy.. *Voices in my head*: “Stop this nonsense and start the bloody Review.�
With this novel Thomas Bernhard appears hell bent to annoy his readers and therefore one needs to be an equally determined reader to get on with this book which, with a little effort can be easily achieved but cherish? I’m not sure about that. Whenever I pick up a book, I try not to have any pre-conceived notions about it and assume that I’ll have a good time reading it coz I won’t deliberately waste my time on some rubbish. So with The Loser also, I hardly had any idea what I’m getting myself into. I came across this description which I found baffling but couldn’t help agree with it more after finishing this book:
“Reading Bernhard feels like the children's superstition of holding one's breath in a car while passing a cemetery. He allows his reader no time to breathe, driving home the moments of intense disappointment and disgust. �
The loser is one long monologue without any paragraph breaks which seems to be a sadist move from Bernhard’s side because such breaks are a kind of breather a reader relish but you really don’t have a chance while reading this book so all one can do is to satisfy oneself with little time breaks. TRY NOT TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE GO.
This book gave me maximum déjà-vu moments per page and for at least 1st ten pages I was like, wait! haven’t I read this before! but soon realised this is how the whole text going to be carried on, two steps forward, one step back and at times, several steps sideways also. So basically no adherence to the conventions of writing as such and well, that’s what Bernhard is known for.
The author won’t let you bother your senses too much on story front. It’s pretty simple and is stated in clear words at the starting only. You see that description given with the novel The Loser centers on a fictional relationship between piano virtuoso Glenn Gould and two of his fellow students who feel compelled to renounce their musical ambitions in the face of Gould's incomparable genius.�.it actually sums it all up perfectly.
So, you really don’t need to be worried about What’s going on? But rather Why is it going on and why am I reading this and why oh why Bernhard wrote something of this sorts? I really don’t have an answer to any of those questions but all I know is somehow I enjoyed the discomfort this book caused. I came across a graffiti pic today that said ,"Art, should comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable" and immediately my first thought was Bernhard.
One really takes pleasure in knowing the ascension of a Genius, but what about those Losers who were born as a result of the existence of such Genius. A painter painting somewhere thought about Picasso and quit his art, a writer writing his debut novel thought about Dostoevsky and quit his writing, (I, thinking right now of Ian Graye’s reviews and Naaah! I’m shameless, I won’t quit), and Wertheimer, on hearing Glenn Gould playing Goldberg Variations (which are pretty awesome, BTW) gave up his musical ambitions of becoming a Piano Virtuoso, despite of being really good, but not the best, Alas.
The Loser is one long, disoriented, languid musings by an unnamed narrator, who was a fellow student with Gould and Wertheimer at a class taught by Vladimir Horowitz. He recalls in a schizophrenic fashion (he used I Thought, I said I thought and I said to myself n no. of times so that’s schizophrenic for me) about the relationships of 3 of them and how the Genius of Gould affected both of them after they heard him playing Piano. If piano playing was a metaphorical place of Worship, then Gould became a kind of God for them from that day on and everything he did henceforth had catastrophic consequences especially for Wertheimer.
"My dear loser, Glenn greeted Wertheimer, with his Canadian-American cold-bloodedness he always called him the loser, he called me quite dryly the philosopher, which didn’t bother me..�
And Wertheimer became the ultimate loser, because Gould confirmed his fears about the same and couldn’t shun that image until his suicide, which became the only thing he did without any external influence, with a feeling that “at least I can decide how I’m gonna die.� Why Suicide? Because Glenn died a natural death and for once Wertheimer didn’t have to die in the same fashion. He became loser in front of Gould’s Genius and couldn’t do anything else because being a Piano Virtuoso is all he wanted, he was a failure at everything else, even at his relationship with his sister (which is one of the high points for me in this novel, it’s really disgusting) and on top of that he was filthy rich so he didn’t have to bother about economic aspect of life.
Our narrator was also a Loser, but of lesser degree, he was not suicidal and survived to ponder upon the deaths and lives of two of his friends. He was the Philosopher who philosophized everything Glenn and Wertheimer did to get over his loss:
I hated Glenn every moment, loved him at the same time with the utmost consistency. For there’s nothing more terrible than to see a person so magnificent that his magnificence destroys us and we must observe this process and put up with it and finally and ultimately also accept it, whereas we actually don’t believe such a process is happening, far from it, until it becomes an irrefutable fact, I thought, when it’s too late.
All three characters, according to the wonderful afterword by Mark M. Anderson, also the translator of this book under the pseudonym, Jack Dawson, are reflections of Thomas Bernhard himself. He took the idea of Gould of being a genius and a rebel, the unnamed character possibly reflected Bernhard’s own insecurities and failures. Wertheimer, however is possibly modeled after Ludwig Wittgenstein. And Boy! he really did hate his native country
"...hadn't been able to even imagine returning to Vienna in these three years and hadn't thought about it either, never again to Vienna, that profoundly despised city, to Austria, that profoundly despised country."
So Yes! It’s a pseudo auto-biographical account of Bernhard’s own life and general reflections of what it is to be A Genius, A Loser, A Philosopher, or a Human Being in the God forsaken circumstances. Read it at your own risk, I won’t really recommend it, especially during festive season but it seems a perfect candidate of being a 5 starrer or a one starrer. For me, it's a 3.5 star.
This is what Bernhard said as a part of his acceptance speech for the Austrian State Prize for Literature. So, Yeah! That’s the kind of man he was.
Along with many other writers, I discovered Bernhard through ŷ only. The next step is usually checking out the author’s profile, from where I found the following description:
Thomas Bernhard was an Austrian author, who ranges among the most distinguished German speaking writers of the second half of the 20th century.
It doesn’t convey much with its minimalistic approach but I got some idea. His influences were:
Samuel Beckett, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Franz Kafka
Those are some good influences, Right!
Next I went through the average ratings of his books, and to my pleasant surprise majority of them have more than 4 point rating but again, the no. of ratings are not that great, i.e. not many readers on ŷ read him that much and The Loser seems to be the most popular among all his books.
What Else? Yes! I analysed his profile picture and went to Google images to see some more of his photos. Now I don’t know why, but I convinced myself that he had the perfect face to feature in a Gangster Hollywood Movie, you know, like Public Enemies, in a negative role or along the same lines, but anything but positive.
And at the end I read one of his quotes: “Instead of committing suicide, people go to work.�
I la—u—gghh- hahaha..like crazy.. *Voices in my head*: “Stop this nonsense and start the bloody Review.�
With this novel Thomas Bernhard appears hell bent to annoy his readers and therefore one needs to be an equally determined reader to get on with this book which, with a little effort can be easily achieved but cherish? I’m not sure about that. Whenever I pick up a book, I try not to have any pre-conceived notions about it and assume that I’ll have a good time reading it coz I won’t deliberately waste my time on some rubbish. So with The Loser also, I hardly had any idea what I’m getting myself into. I came across this description which I found baffling but couldn’t help agree with it more after finishing this book:
“Reading Bernhard feels like the children's superstition of holding one's breath in a car while passing a cemetery. He allows his reader no time to breathe, driving home the moments of intense disappointment and disgust. �
The loser is one long monologue without any paragraph breaks which seems to be a sadist move from Bernhard’s side because such breaks are a kind of breather a reader relish but you really don’t have a chance while reading this book so all one can do is to satisfy oneself with little time breaks. TRY NOT TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE GO.
This book gave me maximum déjà-vu moments per page and for at least 1st ten pages I was like, wait! haven’t I read this before! but soon realised this is how the whole text going to be carried on, two steps forward, one step back and at times, several steps sideways also. So basically no adherence to the conventions of writing as such and well, that’s what Bernhard is known for.
The author won’t let you bother your senses too much on story front. It’s pretty simple and is stated in clear words at the starting only. You see that description given with the novel The Loser centers on a fictional relationship between piano virtuoso Glenn Gould and two of his fellow students who feel compelled to renounce their musical ambitions in the face of Gould's incomparable genius.�.it actually sums it all up perfectly.
So, you really don’t need to be worried about What’s going on? But rather Why is it going on and why am I reading this and why oh why Bernhard wrote something of this sorts? I really don’t have an answer to any of those questions but all I know is somehow I enjoyed the discomfort this book caused. I came across a graffiti pic today that said ,"Art, should comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable" and immediately my first thought was Bernhard.
One really takes pleasure in knowing the ascension of a Genius, but what about those Losers who were born as a result of the existence of such Genius. A painter painting somewhere thought about Picasso and quit his art, a writer writing his debut novel thought about Dostoevsky and quit his writing, (I, thinking right now of Ian Graye’s reviews and Naaah! I’m shameless, I won’t quit), and Wertheimer, on hearing Glenn Gould playing Goldberg Variations (which are pretty awesome, BTW) gave up his musical ambitions of becoming a Piano Virtuoso, despite of being really good, but not the best, Alas.
The Loser is one long, disoriented, languid musings by an unnamed narrator, who was a fellow student with Gould and Wertheimer at a class taught by Vladimir Horowitz. He recalls in a schizophrenic fashion (he used I Thought, I said I thought and I said to myself n no. of times so that’s schizophrenic for me) about the relationships of 3 of them and how the Genius of Gould affected both of them after they heard him playing Piano. If piano playing was a metaphorical place of Worship, then Gould became a kind of God for them from that day on and everything he did henceforth had catastrophic consequences especially for Wertheimer.
"My dear loser, Glenn greeted Wertheimer, with his Canadian-American cold-bloodedness he always called him the loser, he called me quite dryly the philosopher, which didn’t bother me..�
And Wertheimer became the ultimate loser, because Gould confirmed his fears about the same and couldn’t shun that image until his suicide, which became the only thing he did without any external influence, with a feeling that “at least I can decide how I’m gonna die.� Why Suicide? Because Glenn died a natural death and for once Wertheimer didn’t have to die in the same fashion. He became loser in front of Gould’s Genius and couldn’t do anything else because being a Piano Virtuoso is all he wanted, he was a failure at everything else, even at his relationship with his sister (which is one of the high points for me in this novel, it’s really disgusting) and on top of that he was filthy rich so he didn’t have to bother about economic aspect of life.
Our narrator was also a Loser, but of lesser degree, he was not suicidal and survived to ponder upon the deaths and lives of two of his friends. He was the Philosopher who philosophized everything Glenn and Wertheimer did to get over his loss:
I hated Glenn every moment, loved him at the same time with the utmost consistency. For there’s nothing more terrible than to see a person so magnificent that his magnificence destroys us and we must observe this process and put up with it and finally and ultimately also accept it, whereas we actually don’t believe such a process is happening, far from it, until it becomes an irrefutable fact, I thought, when it’s too late.
All three characters, according to the wonderful afterword by Mark M. Anderson, also the translator of this book under the pseudonym, Jack Dawson, are reflections of Thomas Bernhard himself. He took the idea of Gould of being a genius and a rebel, the unnamed character possibly reflected Bernhard’s own insecurities and failures. Wertheimer, however is possibly modeled after Ludwig Wittgenstein. And Boy! he really did hate his native country
"...hadn't been able to even imagine returning to Vienna in these three years and hadn't thought about it either, never again to Vienna, that profoundly despised city, to Austria, that profoundly despised country."
So Yes! It’s a pseudo auto-biographical account of Bernhard’s own life and general reflections of what it is to be A Genius, A Loser, A Philosopher, or a Human Being in the God forsaken circumstances. Read it at your own risk, I won’t really recommend it, especially during festive season but it seems a perfect candidate of being a 5 starrer or a one starrer. For me, it's a 3.5 star.
June 2, 2024
I was attracted to this book because I read somewhere that it had the Canadian pianist Glenn Gould, who is especially famous for his interpretations of Bach’s Goldberg Variations (I admire Gould and have both his 1955 and 1981 recordings of these variations), as a protagonist. It is the first (and last!) book I have read by Thomas Bernhard.
The scenario in this novel is that Gould (before he was famous), a man referred to only as “Wertheimer�, and an unnamed narrator all study piano under Vladimir Horowitz at the Mozarteum in Salzburg. Faced with Gould’s far superior talent, Wertheimer and the unidentified narrator see themselves forced to quit the piano altogether. Wertheimer can’t cope with this and eventually is driven into madness until he commits suicide, whereas the narrator is more rational and gives up playing the piano, on several different pretexts, none of them convincing�
I used the term “scenario� advisedly because this book has very little in the way of a plot, and even less as far as plot development is concerned. The scenario is established very early, and from thereon it’s mostly the author spraying poison in every direction, on topics that often seem completely irrelevant to the scenario. I would have thought that the concept of genius versus dilettantism is interesting, especially for interpretative artists such as pianists, however the book only touches on this tangentially.
The novel is written as an internalised monologue in a very odd, fragmentary, and highly repetitive style, almost as a stream of consciousness, but (annoyingly) not quite. Furthermore, Bernhard has a highly idiosyncratic way of structuring his narrative, which renders reading difficult and tiresome - not something I ever approve of! The repetitiveness of the narrative reminded me of another author I have been reading lately, the Norwegian Jon Fosse. I wonder if Fosse was influenced by Bernhard? However, Bernhard is no match for Fosse, who uses repetition in a magical poetic way, whereas Bernhard’s repetitions just seem oppressive.
Basically I couldn’t make head or tail of this book. Because Bernhard is considered an “important� author (at least in the German-speaking world) I thought I had better do some research. It turns out that this book is probably more autobiographical of the author than biographical of Gould. As far as I can tell, Horowitz never taught at the Mozarteum and Gould never studied there. However, I understand that Bernhard himself studied Singing and Dance there for several years. Could it be that this book is really an attempt on the author’s part to come to grips with his failure to make it as a musician (apparently Bernhard originally wanted to become an opera singer)? Did he distill all the obsessive, paranoid, and suicidal tendencies of his own personality into Wertheimer, while reserving his better qualities for the mysterious narrator? This notion is reinforced by the fact that the book is mostly about Wertheimer, including the title. The German title “Der Untergeher� is much more apposite than the English title “The Loser�, as it suggests someone who is “going under� or “drowning�.
As I said, rather than staying on programme, this novel appears to be more of a vehicle for the author to give vent to his hatred of many many things, including music, politics, philosophy, etc. What makes this especially unpalatable is that his acrimony is never really qualified and justified. Amongst other things Bernhard appears to be especially contemptuous of his own country (Austria), as well as Switzerland (where I come from originally), for completely unfathomable reasons. Apparently Bernhard was (probably still is) widely regarded as a “Nestbeschmutzer� (one who poops in his own nest) in Austria: I’m not surprised!
Verdict: I really quite disliked this book, which in my opinion was written by a bitter and twisted individual in a pessimistic and utterly nihilistic negative manner, using questionable powers of expression and a dreadful writing style. The second star merely represents the unquestionable writerly abilities of this author, which might have been profitably employed to write a more coherent and positive book!
The scenario in this novel is that Gould (before he was famous), a man referred to only as “Wertheimer�, and an unnamed narrator all study piano under Vladimir Horowitz at the Mozarteum in Salzburg. Faced with Gould’s far superior talent, Wertheimer and the unidentified narrator see themselves forced to quit the piano altogether. Wertheimer can’t cope with this and eventually is driven into madness until he commits suicide, whereas the narrator is more rational and gives up playing the piano, on several different pretexts, none of them convincing�
I used the term “scenario� advisedly because this book has very little in the way of a plot, and even less as far as plot development is concerned. The scenario is established very early, and from thereon it’s mostly the author spraying poison in every direction, on topics that often seem completely irrelevant to the scenario. I would have thought that the concept of genius versus dilettantism is interesting, especially for interpretative artists such as pianists, however the book only touches on this tangentially.
The novel is written as an internalised monologue in a very odd, fragmentary, and highly repetitive style, almost as a stream of consciousness, but (annoyingly) not quite. Furthermore, Bernhard has a highly idiosyncratic way of structuring his narrative, which renders reading difficult and tiresome - not something I ever approve of! The repetitiveness of the narrative reminded me of another author I have been reading lately, the Norwegian Jon Fosse. I wonder if Fosse was influenced by Bernhard? However, Bernhard is no match for Fosse, who uses repetition in a magical poetic way, whereas Bernhard’s repetitions just seem oppressive.
Basically I couldn’t make head or tail of this book. Because Bernhard is considered an “important� author (at least in the German-speaking world) I thought I had better do some research. It turns out that this book is probably more autobiographical of the author than biographical of Gould. As far as I can tell, Horowitz never taught at the Mozarteum and Gould never studied there. However, I understand that Bernhard himself studied Singing and Dance there for several years. Could it be that this book is really an attempt on the author’s part to come to grips with his failure to make it as a musician (apparently Bernhard originally wanted to become an opera singer)? Did he distill all the obsessive, paranoid, and suicidal tendencies of his own personality into Wertheimer, while reserving his better qualities for the mysterious narrator? This notion is reinforced by the fact that the book is mostly about Wertheimer, including the title. The German title “Der Untergeher� is much more apposite than the English title “The Loser�, as it suggests someone who is “going under� or “drowning�.
As I said, rather than staying on programme, this novel appears to be more of a vehicle for the author to give vent to his hatred of many many things, including music, politics, philosophy, etc. What makes this especially unpalatable is that his acrimony is never really qualified and justified. Amongst other things Bernhard appears to be especially contemptuous of his own country (Austria), as well as Switzerland (where I come from originally), for completely unfathomable reasons. Apparently Bernhard was (probably still is) widely regarded as a “Nestbeschmutzer� (one who poops in his own nest) in Austria: I’m not surprised!
Verdict: I really quite disliked this book, which in my opinion was written by a bitter and twisted individual in a pessimistic and utterly nihilistic negative manner, using questionable powers of expression and a dreadful writing style. The second star merely represents the unquestionable writerly abilities of this author, which might have been profitably employed to write a more coherent and positive book!
February 12, 2021
Δεν ήμουν προετοιμασμένη να διαβάσω ένα βιβλίο μόλις 200 σελίδων τόσο κοπιωδώς, χωρίς εκτόνωση, χωρίς βαλβίδες εξαέρωσης, χωρίς σάλιο που λένε.
Παρθενική κρούση με Μπέρνχαρντ και ομολογώ πως με «τσάκωσε» με τον χειμαρρώδη, παραληρηματικό τρόπο αφήγησης, έναν συνειρμικό δαιδαλώδη λόγο όπου αναμνήσεις και εσωτερική ανασκόπηση και αποτίμηση ψυχικών καταστάσεων του παρελθόντος αναμιγνύονται για να φτιάξουν μια καλή υπαρξιακή ντόπα.
Άβυσσος η ψυχή του ανθρώπου. Και θα τολμήσω να πω ότι η ψυχή του τελειομανή καλλιτέχνη μάλλον είναι δις άβυσσος. Κάπου μέσα στο μυαλό του, οι συνάψεις είναι ηλεκτρισμένες και το ρεύμα τον κεραυνοβολεί, βραχυκυκλώνοντας ό,τι «υγιές και στρωτό» μπορεί να υπήρχε στις εργοστασιακές του ρυθμίσεις.
Η αντιδιαστολή οξύνοιας και αμβλύνοιας είναι έντονη: η ιδιοφυΐα Γκλεν Γκουλντ στέκεται σαν ακλόνητος ογκόλιθος μπροστά στη λειψή καλλιτεχνική ύπαρξη του απλού δεξιοτέχνη πιανίστα αφηγητή και του απλού δεξιοτέχνη πιανίστα φίλου του, Βέρτχαϊμερ. Στον τελευταίο, η ρετσινιά του "αποτυχημένου", που του αποδόθηκε –ορθά� από τον ιδιοφυή-πιν-ακόμα-γίνει-διάσημος-ιδιοφυής Γκλεν Γκουλντ, γίνεται ο σφιγκτήρας που θα λιγοστεύει ολοένα το οξυγόνο της ύπαρξής του, μέχρι αυτή να αφανιστεί.
Το βιβλίο "καταπίνεται" άριστα υπό τους πιανιστικούς ήχους των «Παραλλαγών Γκόλντμπεργκ», εκτελεσμένους από τον άριστο Γκλεν Γκουλντ. Αυτές οι άριστα παιγμένες Παραλλαγές μπορούν να συμβολίζουν το στοιχειό του κάθε "αποτυχημένου" αυτής της γης.
*Με μια έννοια, συνέδεσα τον Αποτυχημένο με άλλα έργα που αποδίδουν το καθένα με τον δικό του τρόπο την αναζήτηση της τελειότητας και την αδυναμία του οποιουδήποτε συμβιβασμού του καλλιτέχνη με οτιδήποτε λιγότερο από την τελειότητα. Αυτά τα έργα είναι "Το άγνωστο αριστούργημα" του Μπαλζάκ, "Η δεύτερη ευκαιρία" του Τζέιμς, και ίσως πιο έμμεσα η «Σύγχυση αισθημάτων» του Τσβάιχ.
«Τον συνάρπαζαν οι άνθρωποι στη δυστυχία τους, δεν τον έλκυαν οι ίδιοι οι άνθρωποι, αλλά η δυστυχία τους, και την έβρισκε παντού, όπου υπήρχαν άνθρωποι, ήταν ανθρωπομανής επειδή ήταν δυστυχιομανής. Ο άνθρωπος είναι η δυστυχία, έλεγε συνεχώς, σκέφτηκα, μόνο ο κουτός υποστηρίζει το αντίθετο. Η γέννηση είναι δυστυχία, έλεγε, και, όσο ζούμε, συνεχίζουμε αυτήν τη δυστυχία, μόνο ο θάνατος την καταργεί. Αυτό όμως δε σημαίνει πως είμαστε μόνο δυστυχισμένοι, η δυστυχία μας είναι η προϋπόθεση για να μπορούμε να είμαστε ευτυχισμένοι, μόνο από τον κυκλοτερή δρόμο της δυστυχίας μπορούμε να είμαστε ευτυχισμένοι, είπε, σκέφτηκα.»
Παρθενική κρούση με Μπέρνχαρντ και ομολογώ πως με «τσάκωσε» με τον χειμαρρώδη, παραληρηματικό τρόπο αφήγησης, έναν συνειρμικό δαιδαλώδη λόγο όπου αναμνήσεις και εσωτερική ανασκόπηση και αποτίμηση ψυχικών καταστάσεων του παρελθόντος αναμιγνύονται για να φτιάξουν μια καλή υπαρξιακή ντόπα.
Άβυσσος η ψυχή του ανθρώπου. Και θα τολμήσω να πω ότι η ψυχή του τελειομανή καλλιτέχνη μάλλον είναι δις άβυσσος. Κάπου μέσα στο μυαλό του, οι συνάψεις είναι ηλεκτρισμένες και το ρεύμα τον κεραυνοβολεί, βραχυκυκλώνοντας ό,τι «υγιές και στρωτό» μπορεί να υπήρχε στις εργοστασιακές του ρυθμίσεις.
Η αντιδιαστολή οξύνοιας και αμβλύνοιας είναι έντονη: η ιδιοφυΐα Γκλεν Γκουλντ στέκεται σαν ακλόνητος ογκόλιθος μπροστά στη λειψή καλλιτεχνική ύπαρξη του απλού δεξιοτέχνη πιανίστα αφηγητή και του απλού δεξιοτέχνη πιανίστα φίλου του, Βέρτχαϊμερ. Στον τελευταίο, η ρετσινιά του "αποτυχημένου", που του αποδόθηκε –ορθά� από τον ιδιοφυή-πιν-ακόμα-γίνει-διάσημος-ιδιοφυής Γκλεν Γκουλντ, γίνεται ο σφιγκτήρας που θα λιγοστεύει ολοένα το οξυγόνο της ύπαρξής του, μέχρι αυτή να αφανιστεί.
Το βιβλίο "καταπίνεται" άριστα υπό τους πιανιστικούς ήχους των «Παραλλαγών Γκόλντμπεργκ», εκτελεσμένους από τον άριστο Γκλεν Γκουλντ. Αυτές οι άριστα παιγμένες Παραλλαγές μπορούν να συμβολίζουν το στοιχειό του κάθε "αποτυχημένου" αυτής της γης.
*Με μια έννοια, συνέδεσα τον Αποτυχημένο με άλλα έργα που αποδίδουν το καθένα με τον δικό του τρόπο την αναζήτηση της τελειότητας και την αδυναμία του οποιουδήποτε συμβιβασμού του καλλιτέχνη με οτιδήποτε λιγότερο από την τελειότητα. Αυτά τα έργα είναι "Το άγνωστο αριστούργημα" του Μπαλζάκ, "Η δεύτερη ευκαιρία" του Τζέιμς, και ίσως πιο έμμεσα η «Σύγχυση αισθημάτων» του Τσβάιχ.
«Τον συνάρπαζαν οι άνθρωποι στη δυστυχία τους, δεν τον έλκυαν οι ίδιοι οι άνθρωποι, αλλά η δυστυχία τους, και την έβρισκε παντού, όπου υπήρχαν άνθρωποι, ήταν ανθρωπομανής επειδή ήταν δυστυχιομανής. Ο άνθρωπος είναι η δυστυχία, έλεγε συνεχώς, σκέφτηκα, μόνο ο κουτός υποστηρίζει το αντίθετο. Η γέννηση είναι δυστυχία, έλεγε, και, όσο ζούμε, συνεχίζουμε αυτήν τη δυστυχία, μόνο ο θάνατος την καταργεί. Αυτό όμως δε σημαίνει πως είμαστε μόνο δυστυχισμένοι, η δυστυχία μας είναι η προϋπόθεση για να μπορούμε να είμαστε ευτυχισμένοι, μόνο από τον κυκλοτερή δρόμο της δυστυχίας μπορούμε να είμαστε ευτυχισμένοι, είπε, σκέφτηκα.»
January 16, 2024
157 Seiten und kein einziger Absatz, ja nicht einmal ein Luftholen. In einer einzigen langen Suade spricht sich der Ich-Erzähler seinen Frust von der Seele. Die Handlung ist denkbar karg. Der Ich-Erzähler erhält ein Telegramm mit der Einladung zur Beerdigung seines Studienfreundes Wertheimer, der Selbstmord begangen hat. Er nimmt an der freudlosen Prozedur teil und reist dann in Wertheimers „Jagdhaus� in Oberösterreich, um nach hinterlassenen Dokumenten zu forschen.
In diesem Zeitraum erinnert sich der Ich-Erzähler an die gemeinsame Studienzeit am Konservatorium bzw. Mozarteum. Sie waren auf dem Weg zu Klaviervirtuosen, werden aber aus der Bahn geworfen, als sie bei einem fiktiven Meisterkurs bei Horowitz den jungen Glenn Gould und seine unübertroffene Interpretation barocker Musik kennenlernen. Ihnen genügt es nicht zu den Besten zu gehören, sie wollen der Beste sein oder gar keiner. Glenn tauft Wertheimer als den titelgebenden „Untergeher�. Aber auch der Erzähler ist ein „Sackgassenmensch�, der nichts mehr auf die Reihe bringt. Beide sind wohlhabend, können sich also Dilettantentum und Ziellosigkeit leisten. Zugleich sein beide regelrechte Kotzbrocken, die ihre Umgebung maßlos kritisieren und ihre Umwelt tyrannisieren.
Obwohl das Buch in der Ich-Perspektive geschrieben ist, verstehe ich es so, dass Thomas Bernhard das egozentrische Alles-oder-nichts ebenso kritisiert wie das in-den-Tag-Hineinleben der Reichen. Dies tut er mit vielen Seitenhieben auf das real existierende Österreich. Zugleich ist das Buch sprachlich und, mehr noch, formal kunstvoll. In Anlehnung an die von Glenn Gould unvergleichlich interpretierten Goldbergvariation von Johann Sebastian Bach variiert er das Grundmotiv des Dreiecks Gould/Untergeher/Ich-Erzähler auf immer neue, trotz vieler Wiederholungen interessante Art.
Dies war mein erster Bernhard. Trotz der ungewohnten und unerwarteten Form habe ich das Buch literarisch genossen.
In diesem Zeitraum erinnert sich der Ich-Erzähler an die gemeinsame Studienzeit am Konservatorium bzw. Mozarteum. Sie waren auf dem Weg zu Klaviervirtuosen, werden aber aus der Bahn geworfen, als sie bei einem fiktiven Meisterkurs bei Horowitz den jungen Glenn Gould und seine unübertroffene Interpretation barocker Musik kennenlernen. Ihnen genügt es nicht zu den Besten zu gehören, sie wollen der Beste sein oder gar keiner. Glenn tauft Wertheimer als den titelgebenden „Untergeher�. Aber auch der Erzähler ist ein „Sackgassenmensch�, der nichts mehr auf die Reihe bringt. Beide sind wohlhabend, können sich also Dilettantentum und Ziellosigkeit leisten. Zugleich sein beide regelrechte Kotzbrocken, die ihre Umgebung maßlos kritisieren und ihre Umwelt tyrannisieren.
Obwohl das Buch in der Ich-Perspektive geschrieben ist, verstehe ich es so, dass Thomas Bernhard das egozentrische Alles-oder-nichts ebenso kritisiert wie das in-den-Tag-Hineinleben der Reichen. Dies tut er mit vielen Seitenhieben auf das real existierende Österreich. Zugleich ist das Buch sprachlich und, mehr noch, formal kunstvoll. In Anlehnung an die von Glenn Gould unvergleichlich interpretierten Goldbergvariation von Johann Sebastian Bach variiert er das Grundmotiv des Dreiecks Gould/Untergeher/Ich-Erzähler auf immer neue, trotz vieler Wiederholungen interessante Art.
Dies war mein erster Bernhard. Trotz der ungewohnten und unerwarteten Form habe ich das Buch literarisch genossen.
October 6, 2011
Funnier and nastier and less full of shit than anything I've ever read. More laughs per ten pages than Sedaris etc, but with WAY MORE suicide! Awesome Austrian lit. Glenn Gould, the one true piano genius. One paragraph for 155 pages! Zero pretension. Few sentences extended over the course of the book in fugue state. Sort of like lame-ass literary fiction if you removed every standard literary convention (plot, dialogue, setting, scenes) and just freakin' mainlined the narrator's consciousness: I remember Marilynne Robinson (a Bach lover, same as Wertheimer, same as Glenn Gould) saying no writers really represent human (as opposed to alien? ant?) consciousness, and I was like what about Tommy B, and she was all like dunno, never read 'em, and I was like yo well pick up "The Loser"! Plus, again, you'll laugh out loud (LOL) like 12 times, which isn't a bad number for a book about encountering a true piano genius (Glenn Gould) and either quitting piano (the narrator) or killing yourself (Wertheimer). Highly recommended to all people who are looking for something a little bit different formally and maybe also totally awesome thematically. HEFT FACTOR: HIGH (BUT WITH LOTS O' LEVITY)
May 23, 2015
Grey � The color that most of the characters created during large part of twentieth century and whole of twenty-first century till date, are painted in. Cruelly banishing the evergreen Black and all-star White to secondary positions, Grey has risen in ranks to be the heroic hue of all ‘famous� characters. The modern reader in me haughtily merges this contemporary thought into her conversations and discusses the ‘g� shades of the latest literary protagonist she has encountered. But the conventional reader in me? Oh, she curses! Throws slang, moans hoarse. To all those authors who wiped the clear, unambiguous White (read good) and Black (read bad) from her book world, she casts a teary eye and howls a simple question: Why?
The premise of The Loser is an intriguing one. Three youngsters join a renowned music academy to learn piano. Glenn, a born genius, simply uses the school to sharpen his existing incredible musical teeth. Wertheimer is a truck load of talent too, enough to prevail over most of the piano-playing community around him but nowhere near Glenn's magnificence. The third student, who is also our unnamed narrator, is in the same lustrous league as Wertheimer and at the same subjacent stand to Glenn. Fast forward twenty-eight years: Glenn and Wertheimer are dead and our unnamed narrator, having attended the latter’s funeral, is on his way to the latter’s last abode in search of some aphorism notes. And some base choreography of his only friends' life trances.
The story began well, concisely drawing an unshapely circle around its characters as if a hand was either shivering or consciously teasing during the entwining exercise. Then, a solid tangent was drawn from a vantage point in the book, where all the characters had rushed in to create the richest pool of their natural shades - a point where Glenn had donned the recluse's garb, Wertheimer had submerged in pools of pungent losses and our narrator had mastered the oscillations between insipid and not-so-insipid days. On this tangential thought, I rejoiced and braced myself for a ride of a lifetime.
Well, the ride controller had other plans.
The characters depicted the darker, gloomier sides of human mind with panache and incisive depth. Their dilemmas, their failures, their disdains, all found evocative voices of the finest baritone. But what about those occasional sunny streaks? Agreed, Bernhard felt they held no merit in his work but does not the sheer veracity of a diary, chronicling a lifetime of three men, demand few positive scribblings as footnotes? Fleeting thoughts that infused some fragrance into the ailing minds that managed to live beyond fifty years each? While I had empathy for all the three as they possessed no massive blemishes on their hearts, I could not warm upto them for they bordered on the sunshine but never bothered to usher it in, even through the doors of unhappiness and dry humor. They basked in unhappiness way too much and I felt rashes on my skin, unexpectedly.
The Loser is a tag Glenn gives Wertheimer on the first day of their meeting. But I could not help but wonder why Wertheimer was a loser in his suicide and Glenn was not, in his exile? Or for that matter, our narrator, in his directionless transit?
With The Loser, Bernhard presents his fellowship in Advanced Grey-mmar. The characters appeared all ‘g� to me, meaning I could sit in a theatre, watch them act, clap in applause and not leave before the final scene but also not reward them with a standing ovation and take them home after the act is over. It was like a fabulous soprano, which reached its crescendo during the first half and all I did afterwards, was search its mellifluous vibrations in the rest of the piece.
Bernhard once said on his writing: “To shake people up, that’s my real pleasure.�
He succeeded.
The premise of The Loser is an intriguing one. Three youngsters join a renowned music academy to learn piano. Glenn, a born genius, simply uses the school to sharpen his existing incredible musical teeth. Wertheimer is a truck load of talent too, enough to prevail over most of the piano-playing community around him but nowhere near Glenn's magnificence. The third student, who is also our unnamed narrator, is in the same lustrous league as Wertheimer and at the same subjacent stand to Glenn. Fast forward twenty-eight years: Glenn and Wertheimer are dead and our unnamed narrator, having attended the latter’s funeral, is on his way to the latter’s last abode in search of some aphorism notes. And some base choreography of his only friends' life trances.
The story began well, concisely drawing an unshapely circle around its characters as if a hand was either shivering or consciously teasing during the entwining exercise. Then, a solid tangent was drawn from a vantage point in the book, where all the characters had rushed in to create the richest pool of their natural shades - a point where Glenn had donned the recluse's garb, Wertheimer had submerged in pools of pungent losses and our narrator had mastered the oscillations between insipid and not-so-insipid days. On this tangential thought, I rejoiced and braced myself for a ride of a lifetime.
Well, the ride controller had other plans.
The characters depicted the darker, gloomier sides of human mind with panache and incisive depth. Their dilemmas, their failures, their disdains, all found evocative voices of the finest baritone. But what about those occasional sunny streaks? Agreed, Bernhard felt they held no merit in his work but does not the sheer veracity of a diary, chronicling a lifetime of three men, demand few positive scribblings as footnotes? Fleeting thoughts that infused some fragrance into the ailing minds that managed to live beyond fifty years each? While I had empathy for all the three as they possessed no massive blemishes on their hearts, I could not warm upto them for they bordered on the sunshine but never bothered to usher it in, even through the doors of unhappiness and dry humor. They basked in unhappiness way too much and I felt rashes on my skin, unexpectedly.
The Loser is a tag Glenn gives Wertheimer on the first day of their meeting. But I could not help but wonder why Wertheimer was a loser in his suicide and Glenn was not, in his exile? Or for that matter, our narrator, in his directionless transit?
With The Loser, Bernhard presents his fellowship in Advanced Grey-mmar. The characters appeared all ‘g� to me, meaning I could sit in a theatre, watch them act, clap in applause and not leave before the final scene but also not reward them with a standing ovation and take them home after the act is over. It was like a fabulous soprano, which reached its crescendo during the first half and all I did afterwards, was search its mellifluous vibrations in the rest of the piece.
I have never admired anything but have marvelled at many things during my life and I, can say, have marvelled the most in my life.I did marvel at Bernhard though. Written entirely in one single paragraph, unfolding mostly within the troubled walls of the narrator’s mind, the reading pattern alone was a striking experience. Repetitive yet fresh, discoloured yet brilliant, his style was the strong ribs of his unusual plot. As if a person was sitting across me and narrating his life’s mistakes and while I wanted to chide him for his stupidities, I ended up ordering a few more cups of coffees in the greed of pushing him to a point where he might mend, something.
Bernhard once said on his writing: “To shake people up, that’s my real pleasure.�
He succeeded.
October 4, 2017
lo dico nel modo più rapido e indolore, e mi defilo prima che qualcuno abbia tempo di tagliarmi le gomme alla bici. per me sono tre stelle, e nemmeno un fotone di più.
perché va benissimo l’idea della stretta coerenza tra il racconto e la forma che prende: un romanzo in cui le variazioni goldberg hanno un ruolo da co-protagonista, scritto come una ossessiva variazione nei temi e nello stile. ma qui ci sono pagine e pagine con gli stessi concetti ripetuti allo sfinimento per due o tre proposizioni di fila, e se cambia giusto l’ordine di qualche termine è grasso che cola.
anche alle pippe mentali c’� un limite.
(chiederei per sfizio a qualche soccombente provvisto di versione ebook, di rivelarmi quante volte compare il famigerato passato remoto del narratore. tanti di quei «pensai» che nemmeno rodin).
perché va benissimo l’idea della stretta coerenza tra il racconto e la forma che prende: un romanzo in cui le variazioni goldberg hanno un ruolo da co-protagonista, scritto come una ossessiva variazione nei temi e nello stile. ma qui ci sono pagine e pagine con gli stessi concetti ripetuti allo sfinimento per due o tre proposizioni di fila, e se cambia giusto l’ordine di qualche termine è grasso che cola.
anche alle pippe mentali c’� un limite.
(chiederei per sfizio a qualche soccombente provvisto di versione ebook, di rivelarmi quante volte compare il famigerato passato remoto del narratore. tanti di quei «pensai» che nemmeno rodin).
June 1, 2019
El malogrado es un monólogo interior obsesivo, caótico y en ocasiones agotador. Al ser mi primer Bernhard me ha costado un poco entrar en la novela, pero pronto he quedado atrapada en ese discurso repetitivo y atormentado, que poco a poco te va envolviendo en los odios y obsesiones del narrador, que vuelve una y otra vez a las mismas ideas, incluso a las mismas frases y expresiones.
Este monólogo se desencadena al acudir el narrador al entierro de su amigo Wertheimer. Wertheimer y él conocieron a Glenn Gould cuando estudiaban piano. Gould era un genio, ellos solo tenían talento, y la comparación, la frustración que les supone aceptar que la maestría de Gould es inalcanzable termina con sus carreras.
Yo había llegado a tiempo al convencimiento de que yo mismo no tenía cualidades para hacer una carrera de virtuoso, le había dicho al maestro, y como siempre quería en todo sólo lo más alto, tenía que separarme de mi instrumento, porque con él no alcanzaría con toda seguridad, como de pronto había comprendido, lo más alto y así el narrador regala su Steinway y se marcha: Cuando encontramos al mejor, tenemos que renunciar, pensé.
A Wertheimer su fracaso, la etiqueta de “mDz� que Gould le pone y que él mismo reconoce, lo aniquila, en todos los sentidos: Decimos a una persona una palabra mortal y, como es natural, no tenemos conciencia en ese momento de que, realmente, le hemos dicho una palabra mortal, pensé. Veintiocho años después de haberle dicho Glenn a Wertheimer en el Mozarteum que era un malogrado y doce años después de habérselo dicho en Norteamérica, Wertheimer se mató.
Pero diría que el tema último es esa contradicción que parece que me persigue últimamente, la vida como trampa mortal: El ser humano es la infelicidad, decía una y otra vez, pensé, sólo un imbécil pretende lo contrario. Nacer es una infelicidad, decía, y, mientras vivimos, prolongamos esa infelicidad, sólo la muerte la interrumpe. Eso no quiere decir, sin embargo que sólo seamos infelices, nuestra infelicidad es la condición para que podamos ser felices también, sólo dando el rodeo de la infelicidad podemos ser felices, decía, pensé.
Este monólogo se desencadena al acudir el narrador al entierro de su amigo Wertheimer. Wertheimer y él conocieron a Glenn Gould cuando estudiaban piano. Gould era un genio, ellos solo tenían talento, y la comparación, la frustración que les supone aceptar que la maestría de Gould es inalcanzable termina con sus carreras.
Yo había llegado a tiempo al convencimiento de que yo mismo no tenía cualidades para hacer una carrera de virtuoso, le había dicho al maestro, y como siempre quería en todo sólo lo más alto, tenía que separarme de mi instrumento, porque con él no alcanzaría con toda seguridad, como de pronto había comprendido, lo más alto y así el narrador regala su Steinway y se marcha: Cuando encontramos al mejor, tenemos que renunciar, pensé.
A Wertheimer su fracaso, la etiqueta de “mDz� que Gould le pone y que él mismo reconoce, lo aniquila, en todos los sentidos: Decimos a una persona una palabra mortal y, como es natural, no tenemos conciencia en ese momento de que, realmente, le hemos dicho una palabra mortal, pensé. Veintiocho años después de haberle dicho Glenn a Wertheimer en el Mozarteum que era un malogrado y doce años después de habérselo dicho en Norteamérica, Wertheimer se mató.
Pero diría que el tema último es esa contradicción que parece que me persigue últimamente, la vida como trampa mortal: El ser humano es la infelicidad, decía una y otra vez, pensé, sólo un imbécil pretende lo contrario. Nacer es una infelicidad, decía, y, mientras vivimos, prolongamos esa infelicidad, sólo la muerte la interrumpe. Eso no quiere decir, sin embargo que sólo seamos infelices, nuestra infelicidad es la condición para que podamos ser felices también, sólo dando el rodeo de la infelicidad podemos ser felices, decía, pensé.
January 7, 2024
Über die Negation, die Zerrissenheit eines Menschen, der sich in seiner Einzigartigkeit nicht begreifen kann, der in symbolischer Ordnung feststeckt, seinem Mangel und dem Begehren ein anderer zu sein. Der durch Bedeutungszuschreibung in eine Fixierung gedrängt wird, aus der er keinen Ausweg findet, da sein Geist nur im Theoretisieren festhängt. Die Tat, die Handlung zur Entwicklung bleibt aus. Sprache, Worte in ihrer zerstörerischen Kraft. Insbesondere da wo kein Eros vorhanden ist, keine lebensbejahende Kraft nach vorn.
Was bleibt ist der letzte Akt der Flucht, der Annahme des unmöglich Realen der Freiheit, Entzug der Welt, die einen glücklich machen will, um sich sein Unglück zu bewahren � Selbstmord.
Wer ist Schuld? Wieso, weshalb, warum?
Der Icherzähler versucht dies zu umkreisen, Gründe, Erklärungen zu finden. „Wäre dies nicht...hätte jenes..�
Dabei ist ihm doch klar: Wir handeln immer unter den falschen Voraussetzungen.
Er weiß um die Lücken, des Realen (zu dem wir keinen Zugang haben). Das vollständige Bild bleibt aus. Unbewusste Handlungen.
Am Ende des Romans bekommt der Icherzähler ein weiteres Puzzleteil geliefert.
Die Anerkennung der Verstimmung des Ichs. Die theoretischen Erkenntnisse zur gelungenen Lebensführung verbrannt. Eine getroffene Entscheidung. Die Synthese ist vollzogen ins Nichts.
Umrahmt wird dieses Erinnern durch die Gegenwart. Das Leben der Wirtin, der einfachen Leute.
Der Künstler erkennt: Das Ideal, das wir uns ausmalen, entpuppt sich immer als etwas anderes.
Er schält die Ortlosigkeit eines Menschen heraus, der einer gebildeten, finanziell gut ausgestatteten Künstlerklasse angehört, deren er sich aber nicht zugehörig fühlt, die Nähe der einfachen Menschen sucht, gegen dieses elitäre Gehabe aufbegehrt. Diese Nähe wird lediglich auf Abstand geduldet. Die einfachen Menschen und die akademische Künstlerklasse trennt ein gähnender Abgrund. Niemand lässt den anderen rein. Somit sind alle zur Ortlosigkeit verdammt, die aus ihrer Begrenzung ausscheren.
Wem jetzt hier die entscheidenden Buzzwords fehlen, die er doch sonst in den Rezis zu dem Buch findet, ich scheinbar am Inhalt vorbei geschrieben habe, fragt sich wahrscheinlich: War da nicht irgendwas mit Musik, und einem Virtuosen Namens Glenn Gould, akademischem Gequatsche über Bachs Goldbergvariationen und dass Bernhard die Struktur dessen im Text übernommen hat?
Jou. Damit würden wir über die symbolische Ordnung sprechen, über handlungsfreies Theoretisieren, dem Bernhard den Rücken zuwendet und genau das tue ich auch!
Was bleibt ist der letzte Akt der Flucht, der Annahme des unmöglich Realen der Freiheit, Entzug der Welt, die einen glücklich machen will, um sich sein Unglück zu bewahren � Selbstmord.
Wer ist Schuld? Wieso, weshalb, warum?
Der Icherzähler versucht dies zu umkreisen, Gründe, Erklärungen zu finden. „Wäre dies nicht...hätte jenes..�
Dabei ist ihm doch klar: Wir handeln immer unter den falschen Voraussetzungen.
Er weiß um die Lücken, des Realen (zu dem wir keinen Zugang haben). Das vollständige Bild bleibt aus. Unbewusste Handlungen.
Am Ende des Romans bekommt der Icherzähler ein weiteres Puzzleteil geliefert.
Die Anerkennung der Verstimmung des Ichs. Die theoretischen Erkenntnisse zur gelungenen Lebensführung verbrannt. Eine getroffene Entscheidung. Die Synthese ist vollzogen ins Nichts.
Umrahmt wird dieses Erinnern durch die Gegenwart. Das Leben der Wirtin, der einfachen Leute.
Der Künstler erkennt: Das Ideal, das wir uns ausmalen, entpuppt sich immer als etwas anderes.
Er schält die Ortlosigkeit eines Menschen heraus, der einer gebildeten, finanziell gut ausgestatteten Künstlerklasse angehört, deren er sich aber nicht zugehörig fühlt, die Nähe der einfachen Menschen sucht, gegen dieses elitäre Gehabe aufbegehrt. Diese Nähe wird lediglich auf Abstand geduldet. Die einfachen Menschen und die akademische Künstlerklasse trennt ein gähnender Abgrund. Niemand lässt den anderen rein. Somit sind alle zur Ortlosigkeit verdammt, die aus ihrer Begrenzung ausscheren.
Wem jetzt hier die entscheidenden Buzzwords fehlen, die er doch sonst in den Rezis zu dem Buch findet, ich scheinbar am Inhalt vorbei geschrieben habe, fragt sich wahrscheinlich: War da nicht irgendwas mit Musik, und einem Virtuosen Namens Glenn Gould, akademischem Gequatsche über Bachs Goldbergvariationen und dass Bernhard die Struktur dessen im Text übernommen hat?
Jou. Damit würden wir über die symbolische Ordnung sprechen, über handlungsfreies Theoretisieren, dem Bernhard den Rücken zuwendet und genau das tue ich auch!
July 19, 2022
A surreal experience from beginning to end. It’s been a wonderful ride, learning about Bernhard, his relationship with Austria and its demographic classes, and his wit. The prose itself can be summed up with a GIF (I know, I know):
Mark M. Anderson, in his afterword, describes it as prose with a “monologistic tone�. It felt dizzying, disorienting, wild at times. I felt as though I was being dragged down to my knees against my will, forced to look at compassion and loss through the lens of suicide, obsession, and artistic compulsion. There isn’t much I can say that can “spoil� the book, per se. You know the whole of the plot on the first page or two, and it’s repeated, over and over, as it inches forward. Almost exactly like a dancing dervish inching forward. Not much ground is gained, but it’s beautiful for what it presents. Bernhard’s bitterness is evident. As Anderson puts it, he “operates according to a logic of inventive schizophrenia, splitting and doubling himself into a series of alter egos that are locked in a life-and-death struggle.� The characters in the book (the nameless narrator, Wertheimer, and Glenn Gould) are just different shades of the author himself, a fact that is evident straightaway.
What drew me to this book from the first few pages? For one thing, I can’t resist authors and narrators that have a bone to pick with the world. It’s really interesting to see them operate, watch them construct worlds. Bernhard never shied away from speaking his mind on hypocrisy and problems with the status quo. For instance, “his acceptance speech for the Austrian State Prize for Literature in 1967 proved so offensive that it drove the Minister of Culture and a good part of the audience from the room.� What fun. But the topics were undoubtedly interesting, things I think about constantly. Questions that come up, explored, but perhaps not answered, as they can never be answered and perhaps will never be answered. What is art? What is mastery in art? How much of it is pretension? What is genius? What do you do when faced with genius, how do you respond to it? What drives the artist to the abyss of suicide? When do you know that you have succeeded in your life’s marathon, especially concerning the creation of art?
A zesty chunk of this book led me to think about how we each take up the creation of art. The narrator approaches making art in a solitary fashion (how much I choose to believe him is a different matter) and isn’t bothered by the exploits of geniuses within his field � imagine if Jonathan Franzen gave up before writing anything because he read War and Peace when he was 20. The narrator’s close friend, Wertheimer, approaches art as an emulation, and is therefore disheartened when faced with geniuses that “do it better� � he is the prototypical football player that “wants to be� Messi or Ronaldo, or the screenplay writer who picks up a pen and says “How do I become Tarantino?� � this is dangerous, because the confidence of this type of artist needs to be unrealistically inflated, and it will burst. And what happens when it does?
Glenn Gould (a fictionalized version, of course) features, withdrawing into himself and somewhere far from society to work on his art � it was great to be prodded into learning about him, watching him perform, listening to his real rendition of Bach’s The Goldberg Variation. It was also surreal to find out more about this man, realizing that he lived near me, withdrew to a cottage not far from me, and died near me � hell, he is buried near me. We all see the world through our lenses, and when world literature collides with my geography, the story seems to be imbued with that much more significance, for no reason other than the fact that I can reach out and touch it.
I want to make sure to include a quote that was one of many that I highlighted � this one was beautiful:
Mark M. Anderson, in his afterword, describes it as prose with a “monologistic tone�. It felt dizzying, disorienting, wild at times. I felt as though I was being dragged down to my knees against my will, forced to look at compassion and loss through the lens of suicide, obsession, and artistic compulsion. There isn’t much I can say that can “spoil� the book, per se. You know the whole of the plot on the first page or two, and it’s repeated, over and over, as it inches forward. Almost exactly like a dancing dervish inching forward. Not much ground is gained, but it’s beautiful for what it presents. Bernhard’s bitterness is evident. As Anderson puts it, he “operates according to a logic of inventive schizophrenia, splitting and doubling himself into a series of alter egos that are locked in a life-and-death struggle.� The characters in the book (the nameless narrator, Wertheimer, and Glenn Gould) are just different shades of the author himself, a fact that is evident straightaway.
What drew me to this book from the first few pages? For one thing, I can’t resist authors and narrators that have a bone to pick with the world. It’s really interesting to see them operate, watch them construct worlds. Bernhard never shied away from speaking his mind on hypocrisy and problems with the status quo. For instance, “his acceptance speech for the Austrian State Prize for Literature in 1967 proved so offensive that it drove the Minister of Culture and a good part of the audience from the room.� What fun. But the topics were undoubtedly interesting, things I think about constantly. Questions that come up, explored, but perhaps not answered, as they can never be answered and perhaps will never be answered. What is art? What is mastery in art? How much of it is pretension? What is genius? What do you do when faced with genius, how do you respond to it? What drives the artist to the abyss of suicide? When do you know that you have succeeded in your life’s marathon, especially concerning the creation of art?
A zesty chunk of this book led me to think about how we each take up the creation of art. The narrator approaches making art in a solitary fashion (how much I choose to believe him is a different matter) and isn’t bothered by the exploits of geniuses within his field � imagine if Jonathan Franzen gave up before writing anything because he read War and Peace when he was 20. The narrator’s close friend, Wertheimer, approaches art as an emulation, and is therefore disheartened when faced with geniuses that “do it better� � he is the prototypical football player that “wants to be� Messi or Ronaldo, or the screenplay writer who picks up a pen and says “How do I become Tarantino?� � this is dangerous, because the confidence of this type of artist needs to be unrealistically inflated, and it will burst. And what happens when it does?
Glenn Gould (a fictionalized version, of course) features, withdrawing into himself and somewhere far from society to work on his art � it was great to be prodded into learning about him, watching him perform, listening to his real rendition of Bach’s The Goldberg Variation. It was also surreal to find out more about this man, realizing that he lived near me, withdrew to a cottage not far from me, and died near me � hell, he is buried near me. We all see the world through our lenses, and when world literature collides with my geography, the story seems to be imbued with that much more significance, for no reason other than the fact that I can reach out and touch it.
I want to make sure to include a quote that was one of many that I highlighted � this one was beautiful:
For very often people who work with products of the intellect say they don’t hold something in high regard and on the contrary hold it in very high regard indeed, just won’t admit it because they’re ashamed of such inferior work, as they call it, bad-mouth their work so as not to have to be publicly ashamed of it at least.�
August 26, 2014
We all know hasbeens who never were, so are really hasn’tbeens. My first wife, Mary Quattro, played the spoons in the Intergalactic Pipe Cleaners, a polka and celtic disco band who kept audiences enthralled with their wild interpretations of traditionals in the style of Ottawan and other disco groovers. She was forever in the shadow of Niles Vee, a percussionist of rare merit, who was at home on maracas and spoons. This outrageous two-instrument skill was impossible for poor Mary to beat, so she spent her life in a permanent rage against this otherwise harmless bearded man who liked smoothies and taking things at a sluggish pace. I had to divorce Mary when she brought her fiftieth Niles Vee voodoo mannequin into the flat. Sometimes there are limits to love. Have you ever sat in an airport and tried to match the face to the destination? This is a fun distraction. The trouble with these sorts of time-killing merriments is they usually end up reflecting one’s own prejudices. Who are we to assume plump red-faced men in suits are heading for Amsterdam, or that tanning-bed turkeys are destined for Ibiza? Mary was always chiding me for these attitudes, despite my guesses usually being right, and humans being as predictable as their behaviour repeatedly proves them to be.
November 7, 2024
یکی از سیاهتری� کتابهایی بود که خوندم. فضای داستان از همون اول منو غرق در خودش کرد و کاری جز حل شدن در فضای تیره و تار و سر زمخت و بیرح� داستان نتونستم انجام بدم. کتاب پر از واگویهها� ذهنی و نشخوار فکری راوی داستانه. کل کتاب انگار یک پاراگراف صد و شصت صفحها� بود. داستان سه پیانیست که یکیشون اینقدر در کارش ماهره، اون دو تای دیگه عطای پیانیست شدن رو به لقاش میبخشن� و در ادامه سرنوشت هر سه رو میخونی�. چیز بیشتری نمیتون� بگم و برام سخته از این کتاب حرف زدن.ـ
September 27, 2024
'The Loser' is the narrator's single-paragraph monologue recounting the history of the frienship of three pianists. All of them take their (future) profession too seriously; all of them are extremely ambitious to the extent of being obsessed with perfection, success and fame. Unfortunatelly, the three are not equally talented and not at all mature and this is where the problems start. This all-or-nothing attitude forces them to become prisoners of their obsessions making them unable to live and enjoy and appreciate life which leads to self-destruction.
Certainly, the novel is an exaggeration, a caricatural depiction of the life in music, but I think that this story of the high hopes and the inevitable failure (to live, to be yourself) the author wants to ask 'What is the true meaning of life?' This makes "the Loser' a philosophical novel.
'I barricaded myself and stared out the window, without seeing anything but my own unhappiness.'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Again and again we try to escape ourselves, but we fail in our efforts, constantly run our heads into the wall because we don't want to recognize that we can't escape ourselves, except in death.'
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'But simple people don’t understand complicated ones and thrust the latter back on themselves, more ruthlessly than any others, I thought. The biggest mistake is to think that one can be rescued by so-called simple people. A person goes to them in an extremely needy condition and begs desperately to be rescued and they thrust this person even more deeply into his own despair. And how are they supposed to save the extravagant one in his extravagance, I thought.'
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Our libraries are so to speak prisons where we've locked up our intellectual giants, naturally Kant has been put in solitary confinement, like Nietzsche, like Schopenhauer, like Pascal, like Voltaire, like Montaigne, all the real giants have been put in solitary confinement, all the others in mass confinement, but everyone for ever and ever, my friend, for all time and unto eternity, that's the truth.'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Whoever can't laugh doesn't deserve to be taken seriously...'
Certainly, the novel is an exaggeration, a caricatural depiction of the life in music, but I think that this story of the high hopes and the inevitable failure (to live, to be yourself) the author wants to ask 'What is the true meaning of life?' This makes "the Loser' a philosophical novel.
'I barricaded myself and stared out the window, without seeing anything but my own unhappiness.'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Again and again we try to escape ourselves, but we fail in our efforts, constantly run our heads into the wall because we don't want to recognize that we can't escape ourselves, except in death.'
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'But simple people don’t understand complicated ones and thrust the latter back on themselves, more ruthlessly than any others, I thought. The biggest mistake is to think that one can be rescued by so-called simple people. A person goes to them in an extremely needy condition and begs desperately to be rescued and they thrust this person even more deeply into his own despair. And how are they supposed to save the extravagant one in his extravagance, I thought.'
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Our libraries are so to speak prisons where we've locked up our intellectual giants, naturally Kant has been put in solitary confinement, like Nietzsche, like Schopenhauer, like Pascal, like Voltaire, like Montaigne, all the real giants have been put in solitary confinement, all the others in mass confinement, but everyone for ever and ever, my friend, for all time and unto eternity, that's the truth.'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Whoever can't laugh doesn't deserve to be taken seriously...'
November 27, 2010
for this review.
Of course Thomas Bernhard's The Loser covers some of the usual Bernhardian terrain -- misanthropy, madness, death, all the fun stuff really -- but failure is the real star of this show. The 'Loser' of the title, named Wertheimer, was unfortunate enough both to have been a gifted piano player and to have studied contemporaneously with piano legend Glenn Gould, whose life and genius -- albeit in a somewhat fictionalized form -- haunt Wertheimer until he is at long last able to 'assert himself' [as the narrator puts it] for the first time -- by committing suicide just outside his sister's Swiss home. It's this final act of defiance against a world he cannot master that is his one success. He accomplishes renunciation.
The unnamed narrator of the novel, another failure who has languished in Gould's long shadow, also turns his back on piano playing resolutely, and yet with some measure of (seeming) equanimity. Even though music is all he's really cut out to do, the piano has been irrevocably ruined for him by Gould's brilliance, his native ability, his setting of a standard neither to be met or outstripped. It was ruined the first time he heard Gould play The Goldberg Variations while still studying in Salzburg under Horowitz. Gould was still a student then, an apprentice -- but even his performance of Bach as a relative novice destroyed the promising careers of the narrator and Wertheimer. It was impossible to carry on after hearing Gould. Everything else was -- must be superfluous.
But while the narrator attempts to shut out the past, to avoid it altogether, drifting vaguely through life, Wertheimer becomes a willing, ecstatic victim of the past. He becomes the Loser, as Gould anoints him, not without blunt humor or insight. As Gould intuits, Wertheimer is doomed to perish, body and soul, in his adjacency to the genius and accomplishment of others. There is no contentment, no grace or dignity, for the also-ran, who acknowledges his insignificance, his insufficiency in the field of his 'calling' or his ordained vocation. When the foundation has been proven rotten, decayed, inadequate, the entire structure in its turn gives way. And so Wertheimer one day travels to his sister's house in Switzerland -- the sister he dominated until she escaped -- and kills himself. He even failed at dominating his weak sister, at terrorizing her into abjection, so he elects to fail comprehensively. To yield to failure, to succeed at failing.
The themes of The Loser will immediately be recognizable to anyone who has made any tentative venture into a field (particularly an artistic field) only to be stymied by the mastery of others. If Shakespeare and Dostoevsky have done their part, for instance, what can my writings add to the collective pool to make it worth the effort? In the shadow of the Canon, the ridiculous things I jot down, more like notes and scribbles than literature, can only be signposts of my vulgarity and inferiority rather than assertions of something original and meaningful. I can assert my failure, like Wertheimer, or I can flee from it as best as I can, like the narrator. Neither is an attractive option, of course, but the neurosis of the artist evokes this dilemma, even if logically he realizes that the question is entirely disingenuous.
Postscript: There is an interesting and informative afterword to the Vintage International edition of The Loser, written by Mark M. Anderson, which discusses how the events of the book relate to Bernhard's life and how Bernhard selectively altered the details of Glenn Gould's life to suit his narrative purposes. Also, the essay begins with an example of Bernhard's bitter humor with respect to his country of residence Austria, for which he harbored an intense ambivalence throughout his life:
Of course Thomas Bernhard's The Loser covers some of the usual Bernhardian terrain -- misanthropy, madness, death, all the fun stuff really -- but failure is the real star of this show. The 'Loser' of the title, named Wertheimer, was unfortunate enough both to have been a gifted piano player and to have studied contemporaneously with piano legend Glenn Gould, whose life and genius -- albeit in a somewhat fictionalized form -- haunt Wertheimer until he is at long last able to 'assert himself' [as the narrator puts it] for the first time -- by committing suicide just outside his sister's Swiss home. It's this final act of defiance against a world he cannot master that is his one success. He accomplishes renunciation.
The unnamed narrator of the novel, another failure who has languished in Gould's long shadow, also turns his back on piano playing resolutely, and yet with some measure of (seeming) equanimity. Even though music is all he's really cut out to do, the piano has been irrevocably ruined for him by Gould's brilliance, his native ability, his setting of a standard neither to be met or outstripped. It was ruined the first time he heard Gould play The Goldberg Variations while still studying in Salzburg under Horowitz. Gould was still a student then, an apprentice -- but even his performance of Bach as a relative novice destroyed the promising careers of the narrator and Wertheimer. It was impossible to carry on after hearing Gould. Everything else was -- must be superfluous.
But while the narrator attempts to shut out the past, to avoid it altogether, drifting vaguely through life, Wertheimer becomes a willing, ecstatic victim of the past. He becomes the Loser, as Gould anoints him, not without blunt humor or insight. As Gould intuits, Wertheimer is doomed to perish, body and soul, in his adjacency to the genius and accomplishment of others. There is no contentment, no grace or dignity, for the also-ran, who acknowledges his insignificance, his insufficiency in the field of his 'calling' or his ordained vocation. When the foundation has been proven rotten, decayed, inadequate, the entire structure in its turn gives way. And so Wertheimer one day travels to his sister's house in Switzerland -- the sister he dominated until she escaped -- and kills himself. He even failed at dominating his weak sister, at terrorizing her into abjection, so he elects to fail comprehensively. To yield to failure, to succeed at failing.
The themes of The Loser will immediately be recognizable to anyone who has made any tentative venture into a field (particularly an artistic field) only to be stymied by the mastery of others. If Shakespeare and Dostoevsky have done their part, for instance, what can my writings add to the collective pool to make it worth the effort? In the shadow of the Canon, the ridiculous things I jot down, more like notes and scribbles than literature, can only be signposts of my vulgarity and inferiority rather than assertions of something original and meaningful. I can assert my failure, like Wertheimer, or I can flee from it as best as I can, like the narrator. Neither is an attractive option, of course, but the neurosis of the artist evokes this dilemma, even if logically he realizes that the question is entirely disingenuous.
Postscript: There is an interesting and informative afterword to the Vintage International edition of The Loser, written by Mark M. Anderson, which discusses how the events of the book relate to Bernhard's life and how Bernhard selectively altered the details of Glenn Gould's life to suit his narrative purposes. Also, the essay begins with an example of Bernhard's bitter humor with respect to his country of residence Austria, for which he harbored an intense ambivalence throughout his life:
During his lifetime Thomas Bernhard's texts provoked more than an ordinary share of scandals. But perhaps the most enduring scandal will turn out to be his very last text, his will: 'Whatever I have written, whether published by me during my lifetime or as part of my literary papers still existing after my death, shall not be performed, printed or even recited for the duration of legal copyright within the borders of Austria, however the state defines itself.' Bernhard had taken care not to reveal the contents of his will before he died; in fact, he even stipulated that news of his death not be announced until he was buried. This parting slap in the face of his native country thus came not only as a surprise; it came from the hand of a dead man, whose laughter rang out from the grave.
April 27, 2023
58th book of 2023.
At my new job I've got a German colleague, T., and I asked her about the original German title of this novel: Der Untergeher because "loser" just felt wrong to me the whole time I was reading it. It felt out of place, unlike something Bernhard would use. She said that to her, the title is more like The Underdog. This changed the entire perspective of the novel for me. Loser is pathetic, shunned. Underdog is strong, to be rooted for. We vaguely wondered on the translator's decision, why "loser"? And then about translation in general, how the translation of the title, for me, changed the entire drive, even message, of the book. As for everything else: classic Bernhard: obsession, suicide, madness, art, hatred of people, of the countryside, lung problems, hatred of certain European countries. You know what you're getting with him, and he almost never misses. Interesting to have Glenn Gould as one of the characters in the book. I've always adored the fictionalisation of real people, not sure why.
At my new job I've got a German colleague, T., and I asked her about the original German title of this novel: Der Untergeher because "loser" just felt wrong to me the whole time I was reading it. It felt out of place, unlike something Bernhard would use. She said that to her, the title is more like The Underdog. This changed the entire perspective of the novel for me. Loser is pathetic, shunned. Underdog is strong, to be rooted for. We vaguely wondered on the translator's decision, why "loser"? And then about translation in general, how the translation of the title, for me, changed the entire drive, even message, of the book. As for everything else: classic Bernhard: obsession, suicide, madness, art, hatred of people, of the countryside, lung problems, hatred of certain European countries. You know what you're getting with him, and he almost never misses. Interesting to have Glenn Gould as one of the characters in the book. I've always adored the fictionalisation of real people, not sure why.
June 11, 2019
"Var olmak umutsuzluğa düşmekten başka bir şey değildir ki, dedi."
"İnsan mutsuzluktur, dedi hep, diye düşündüm, yalnızca budala olan bunun aksini savunur."
"Dostluklar, diye düşündüm, deneyimlerin gösterdiği üzere, eninde sonunda kişilerin ancak benzer çevrelerine kurulu olduğu zaman sürekli olabiliyor, diye düşündüm, bunun dışında her şey aldatmaca."
"İnsan mutsuzluktur, dedi hep, diye düşündüm, yalnızca budala olan bunun aksini savunur."
"Dostluklar, diye düşündüm, deneyimlerin gösterdiği üzere, eninde sonunda kişilerin ancak benzer çevrelerine kurulu olduğu zaman sürekli olabiliyor, diye düşündüm, bunun dışında her şey aldatmaca."
May 21, 2021
Bernhard her okuduğumda kendine hayran bırakan bir yazar!
Belkide anlaşılması zor bir konuyu kendine has dili ile bir ağ gibi örerek hem bizi bu ağa çekiyor hem de bu ağ içinde karakterlerin nasıl kendi kendilerini hapsettiğine şahit oluyoruz. Üstelik tam da kitabın bir yerinde bahsettiği 0 yargı ve yargıçlar gibi!
Belkide anlaşılması zor bir konuyu kendine has dili ile bir ağ gibi örerek hem bizi bu ağa çekiyor hem de bu ağ içinde karakterlerin nasıl kendi kendilerini hapsettiğine şahit oluyoruz. Üstelik tam da kitabın bir yerinde bahsettiği 0 yargı ve yargıçlar gibi!
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