Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo was an Argentine short-story writer, essayist, poet and translator regarded as a key figure in Spanish-language and international literature. His best-known works, Ficciones (transl.鈥塅ictions) and El Aleph (transl.鈥塗he Aleph), published in the 1940s, are collections of short stories exploring motifs such as dreams, labyrinths, chance, infinity, archives, mirrors, fictional writers and mythology. Borges's works have contributed to philosophical literature and the fantasy genre, and have had a major influence on the magic realist movement in 20th century Latin American literature. Born in Buenos Aires, Borges later moved with his family to Switzerland in 1914, where he studied at the Coll猫ge de Gen猫ve. The family travelled widely in Europe, including Spain. On his return to Argentina in 1921, Borges began publishing his poems and essays in surrealist literary journals. He also worked as a librarian and public lecturer. In 1955, he was appointed director of the National Public Library and professor of English Literature at the University of Buenos Aires. He became completely blind by the age of 55. Scholars have suggested that his progressive blindness helped him to create innovative literary symbols through imagination. By the 1960s, his work was translated and published widely in the United States and Europe. Borges himself was fluent in several languages. In 1961, he came to international attention when he received the first Formentor Prize, which he shared with Samuel Beckett. In 1971, he won the Jerusalem Prize. His international reputation was consolidated in the 1960s, aided by the growing number of English translations, the Latin American Boom, and by the success of Gabriel Garc铆a M谩rquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. He dedicated his final work, The Conspirators, to the city of Geneva, Switzerland. Writer and essayist J.M. Coetzee said of him: "He, more than anyone, renovated the language of fiction and thus opened the way to a remarkable generation of Spanish-American novelists."
My complete review of Dreamtigers is published at .
鈥淔or myth is at the beginning of literature, and also at its end.鈥�
Dreamtigers is an unusually personal collection of stories and poetry from Jorge Luis Borges, the master of the literary labyrinth. In this volume, Borges explores the space between dreams and reality, life and death, knowing and unknowing:
鈥淚t must be that I am not made to be a dead man, but these places and this discussion seem like a dream, and not a dream dreamed by me but by someone else still to be born.鈥�
Images of mirrors appear repeatedly throughout Dreamtigers, mirrors that reflect reality and may become reality themselves. Borges seems terrified of optical distortions that are produced by imperfect reflections, and how those imperfections may reflect reality better than the more perfect images within our mind:
鈥淎s a child, I felt before large mirrors that same horror of a spectral duplication or multiplication of reality. Their infallible and continuous functioning, their pursuit of my actions, their cosmic pantomime, were uncanny then, whenever it began to grow dark. One of my persistent prayers to God and my guardian angel was that I not dream about mirrors. I know I watched them with misgivings. Sometimes I feared they might begin to deviate from reality; other times I was afraid of seeing there my own face, disfigured by strange calamities.鈥�
The short stories in Dreamtigers consist mostly of microfiction, culminating with 鈥淏orges and I,鈥� which builds upon the theme of duplication:
鈥淚t鈥檚 the other one, it鈥檚 Borges, that things happen to...News of Borges reaches me through the mail and I see his name on an academic ballot or in a biographical dictionary...Years ago I tried to free myself from him and I passed from lower-middle-class myths to playing games with time to conceive something else. Thus my life is running away, and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to the other one. I do not know which of us two is writing this page.鈥�
The philosophical musings and personal analysis continue in the second half of Dreamtigers, which is devoted to poetry. Borges longs for understanding of his family as a means of knowing himself and bringing a more solid connection to the reality of his existence. For example, in 鈥淭he Rain,鈥� the sound of a rainstorm recalls the memory of his late father:
鈥淭his rain that blinds the windows with its mists Will gladden in suburbs no more to be found The black grapes on a vine there overhead In a certain patio that no longer exists. And the drenched afternoon brings back the sound How longed for, of my father鈥檚 voice, not dead.鈥�
The Dreamtigers collection is full of gems for the Borges fan, especially those seeking a more personal connection to this author who usually hides behind an impenetrable veil of erudition.
鈥�Impressions, momentary and vivid, would wash over him鈥� and then they wash over the reader.
I have the Collected Fictions (with copious translator's notes), but am splitting my review of that into its components, listed in publication order: Collected Fictions - all reviews.
Dreamtigers, aka The Maker, is the fifth, published in 1960, and I鈥檓 including reviews of two pieces published under the title Museum, and the four prose pieces from In Praise of Darkness, published in 1969.
Brevity and Blindness
These pieces have many of the same elements as previous ones, but are mostly short 鈥� very short indeed. Each is a bubble of an idea, rather than a story. They鈥檙e intriguing, enticing and thought-provoking as always, but I slightly prefer the longer forms contained in The Garden of Forking Paths, Artifices and the Aleph. Part way through, I thought this collection may get only 4* from me, but the final pieces tipped me over well into 5* territory.
Those in Dreamtigers were published five years after Borges became completely blind, which may be a factor (he never learned Braille), and the loss and confusion of blindness is mentioned explicitly and tangentially in several. Mentions of mortality feel more imminent and personal than in his earlier writings.
The Afterword anticipates that after a lifetime drawing the world, 鈥�A short time before he dies, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face鈥�. (Borges lived another 25 years after this, during which time he continued to write and publish.)
DREAMTIGERS / THE MAKER 6*
This is a collection of impressions, like a prose poem describing a prose poem. It鈥檚 written in the third person, but like many of Borges' writings, the protagonist is a version of the author 鈥� especially as this refers to the (recent) horror of blindness. Although it鈥檚 described in unemotional terms, I wanted to shed a tear on his behalf:
鈥�Gradually, the splendid universe began drawing away from him; a stubborn fog blurred the lines of his hand; the night lost its peopling stars, the earth became uncertain under his feet. Everything grew distant, and indistinct.鈥�
Dreamtigers
Having loved tigers as a child (they're a recurring presence is Borges' writings), he is unable to summon them in his dreams. How much of what we dream of ever comes true? How much of that is fate, and how much our own fault?
A Dialog about a Dialog
A short, recursive discussion, wondering whether suicide is the way to prove (or disprove) immortality.
Toenails
A paragraph comparing their pointlessness with the fact they will outlive the author. But we all die, so are our lives pointless too?
Covered Mirrors
A childhood fear of mirrors is passed on to another, with sad consequences.
鈥�I knew that horror of the special duplication and multiplication of reality鈥� and especially did not want to dream about them. 鈥�The constant, infallible functioning of mirrors, the way they followed my every movement, their cosmic pantomime, would seem eerie to me鈥� I feared sometimes that they would begin to veer off from reality鈥� 鈥� and sometimes they did.
Argumentum Ornithologicum
God exists because Borges does not know how many birds he saw! Perhaps.
The Captive
Nature versus nurture and the trouble of being torn between two cultures. Is it ever possible to fit in anywhere?
This has echoes of Story of the Warrior and the Captive Maiden (in The Aleph) and The Ethnographer (lower down this review).
The Mountebank
A weird scam involving charging people to view a fake body that may be (but is not) Eva Peron!
Delia Elena San Marco
Remembering a dead lover. 鈥�Men invented farewells because they somehow knew themselves to be immortal even while seeing themselves as contingent and ephemeral.鈥� I鈥檓 not sure I follow the logic of that.
A Dialog Between Dead Men
Thoughts on Argentinian history, comparing fame and their effect on posterity.
The Plot
鈥�Fate is partial to repetitions, variations, symmetries.鈥� Nineteen centuries after Brutus murdered Caesar, a gaucho is murdered by a godson he fails to recognise. 鈥�He does not know that he has died so that a scene can be played out again.鈥� But why is played out again 鈥� is it necessary or inevitable?
A Problem
The innovative conceit about the second part of Don Quixote is that it was published after fraudulent sequels. Cervantes assumes that the original story was true, and that he is writing to set the record straight.
Borges鈥� piece extends the idea of Don Quixote being real. He imagines finding a missing fragment in which Don Quixote kills someone. But it鈥檚 a fragment, and Borges ponders how Quixote would have reacted to such an act.
The Yellow Rose
The impossibility of words to express things 鈥� which is even more poignant when you remember Borges was blind by the time he wrote this.
鈥�He realized that it [the rose] lay within its own eternity, not within his words, and that we might speak about the rose, allude to it, but never truly express it, and that the tall, haughty volumes that made a golden dimness in the corner of his room were not (as his vanity had dreamed them) a mirror of the world, but just another thing added to the world鈥檚 contents.鈥�
He considers those who may have reached full understanding by death 鈥� though he himself, lived another 25 years or so.
The Witness
When the last witness of an event dies, in what sense does it exist? (The falling tree in the empty forest, again.)
Is that a reason to do less 鈥� or more? Borges may not live on through his genes, but his thoughts and some of his memories live on in his writing. He so often pondered immortality, and he鈥檚 far closer to it than I will ever be.
Martin Fierro
Grim glimpses of civil war in Argentina.
Mutations
鈥�Cross, rope, and arrow: ancient implements of mankind, today reduced, or elevated, to symbols.鈥�
It鈥檚 often said that in the 21st century, we live in a very visual age (have those who say it considered Ancient Egypt?). Borges got there first.
鈥�No one knows what sort of image the future may translate it into.鈥�
Parable of Cervantes and the Quixote
鈥�In the beginning of literature, there is myth, as there is also at the end of it.鈥�
Cervantes outlived Don Quixote by only a short time: 鈥�For both the dreamer and the dreamed, that entire adventure had been the clash of two worlds: the unreal world of romances and the common everyday world of the seventeenth century.鈥�
God is fragmented and scattered. Will we recognise God if we see him, or might we misinterpret someone or something else as God?
Parable of the Palace
A poet emperor gets lost in a labyrinth that has possibly magical qualities: 鈥�The real merged and mingled with the dreamed 鈥� or the real, rather, was one of the shapes the dream took.鈥�
A poem becomes a synecdoche for the entire palace 鈥� but what if the world cannot contain two identical things?
Everything and Nothing 6*
Have you ever felt something was missing? An aching emptiness inside? This is an agonising vignette, with a twist.
鈥�There was no one inside him鈥� there was no more than a slight chill, a dream someone had failed to dream... [so] He trained himself to the habit of feigning that he was somebody, so that his 鈥榥obodiness鈥� might not be discovered.鈥�
The man meets God and discovers that God has existential issues too: 鈥�I, who have been so many men in vain, wish to be one, to be myself. God鈥檚 voice answered him out of a whirlwind: I, too, am not I; I dreamed the world as you, dreamed your own work, and among the forms of my dream are you, who like me are many, yet no one.鈥�
Ragnarok
Coleridge said 鈥�We do not feel horror because we are haunted by a sphinx, we dream of a sphinx in order to explain the horror that we feel.鈥�
Does that explain how one can dream the return of banished and corrupted gods?
Inferno, I, 32
If you suffer profoundly in life (perhaps by losing your sight?) would knowing there was some higher purpose to your suffering make it more bearable? Even if it did, if you then forgot the revelation, would any comfort from it remain?
These questions are applied to a captive leopard who inspires a single line of a great poem.
Borges and I
Duality and identity. This opens, 鈥�It鈥檚 Borges, the other one, that things happen to鈥� and ends, 鈥�I鈥檓 not sure which of us it is that鈥檚 writing this page.鈥�
JLB explores this idea in many stories, but it鈥檚 most explicit in this and The Other in The Book of Sand and 鈥淎ugust 25, 1983鈥� in Shakespeare鈥檚 Memory, both of which I prefer to this.
See also Jay Parini's delightful roadtrip memoir, Borges and Me, which I reviewed HERE.
MUSEUM: On Exactitude in Science
The first of two pieces from Museum. A perfect map is unappreciated, thus futile. In this case, it鈥檚 a literal (very literal) map, but what about more metaphorical ones? Perhaps we shouldn鈥檛 always dig so deep.
MUSEUM: In Memorium, JFK
The second of two pieces from Museum. Doom and inevitability: man killing man has happened throughout history and will continue.
IN PRAISE OF DARKNESS, 1969 6*
My edition of the Collected Fictions includes only the four prose elements of In Praise of Darkness, which was evidently mainly poetry.
The Ethnographer 6* (from In Praise of Darkness)
鈥�The secret is not as important as the paths that led me to it.鈥�
A student goes to live with Indians to learn about them and to gather material for his dissertation. The experience changes him. 鈥�He came to think in a fashion that the logic of his mind rejected.鈥�
There鈥檚 a mystical angle, too: he learns their secret doctrine and returns to university, but resolves never to divulge it: he 鈥�could tell it in a hundred different and even contradictory ways鈥� the secret is beautiful, and science, our science, seems mere frivolity to me now.鈥� How can he ever belong anywhere? But if that鈥檚 a problem, is the insularity the logical conclusion?! (I hope not.)
This has echoes of Story of the Warrior and the Captive Maiden (in The Aleph) and The Captive (further up this review).
Pedro Salvadores (from In Praise of Darkness)
鈥�We see the fate of Pedro Salvadores, like all things, as a symbol of something that we are just on the verge of understanding.鈥�
He hides in his cellar 鈥� for nine years - while his wife lives openly above.
Legend (from In Praise of Darkness)
鈥�Forgetting is forgiving鈥� and 鈥�So long as remorse lasts, guilt lasts.鈥�
A Prayer 6* (from In Praise of Darkness)
Almost unbearably poignant, bearing in mind that Borges was aged ~60 and had gone totally blind about 5 years earlier. He is attempting 鈥�a prayer that is personal, not inherited鈥� 鈥� a conundrum he doesn鈥檛 really solve.
鈥�Asking that my eyes not be filled with night would be madness; I know of thousands of people who can see, yet who are not particularly happy, just, or wise.鈥�
鈥�Time鈥檚 march is a web of causes and effects, and asking for any gift of mercy鈥� is to ask for that link to be broken鈥� that it is already broken.鈥� (Shades of Ambrose Bierce鈥檚 famous definition from The Devil鈥檚 Dictionary: Pray, v. To ask that the laws of the universe be annulled in behalf of a single petitioner, confessedly unworthy.)
鈥�Nor can I plead that my trespasses be forgiven; forgiveness is the act of another, and only I can save myself.鈥�
鈥�Free will is perhaps illusory.鈥�
鈥�I want to be remembered less as poet than as friend.鈥�
鈥�I hope that oblivion will not long delay.鈥� (It did.)
His End and His Beginning (from In Praise of Darkness)
More painful beauty about blindness and imagining (hoping for?) death, and ending with acceptance.
鈥�Familiar faces gradually blurred and faded, objects and people slowly abandoned him. His mind seized upon those changing shapes in a frenzy of tenacity.鈥�
And it gets worse: 鈥�He was unable to remember the shapes, sounds, and colors of his dreams鈥� nor were the dreams dreams. They were his reality, a reality beyond silence and sight, and therefore beyond memory.鈥�
For a long time, 鈥�He never suspected the truth; it burst upon him suddenly鈥�, but he came to realise 鈥�It was his duty to leave all these things behind; now he belonged to this new world, removed from past, present, and future.鈥� He endures various agonies and then realises .
Other quotes
鈥� 鈥淗e had listened to the complex stories, which he took in as reality 鈥� without asking whether they were true or false.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淎n actor, that person who stands upon a stage and plays at being another person, for an audience of people who play at taking him for that person.鈥�
Creio que Jorge Luis Borges me interessa mais como figura m铆tica retratada por outros do que como criador dos seus pr贸prios textos. Gostei bastante de 鈥淥s Conjurados鈥�, desisti de 鈥淟ivro de Seres Imagin谩rios鈥� e agora fico no muro com o 鈥淔azedor鈥�. Borges tem um saber enciclop茅dico que 茅 dif铆cil de acompanhar e apreciar, e foi preciso chegar ao final deste livro para encontrar algo que tivesse vontade de perpetuar numa recens茫o, uma nota final do pr贸prio autor onde explica a ess锚ncia desta compila莽茫o.
Queira Deus que a monotonia essencial desta miscel芒nea (que o tempo compilou, n茫o eu, e que admite pe莽as pret茅ritas que n茫o me atrevi a emendar, porque as escrevi com outro conceito da literatura) seja menos evidente que a diversidade geogr谩fica ou hist贸rica dos temas. De quantos livros entreguei 脿 tipografia, nenhum, creio, 茅 t茫o pessoal como esta colect铆cia e desordenada silva de varia li莽茫o, precisamente porque abunda em reflexos e interpola莽玫es. Poucas coisas me aconteceram e muitas li. Melhor dizendo, poucas coisas me aconteceram mais dignas de mem贸ria que o pensamento de Schopenhauer ou a m煤sica verbal de Inglaterra. Um homem prop玫e-se a tarefa de desenhar o mundo. Ao longo dos anos povoa um espa莽o com imagens de prov铆ncias, de reinos, de montanhas, de ba铆as, de naves, de ilhas, de peixes, de quartos, de instrumentos, de astros, de cavalos e de pessoas. Pouco antes de morrer descubro que esse paciente labirinto de linhas tra莽a a imagem do seu rosto. (31 de Outubro de 1960)
Otro gran libro de Borges que tal vez no sea tan famoso y le铆do como 鈥淓l Aleph鈥� o 鈥淔icciones鈥�, pero que tiene su maestr铆a intacta de genio eterno. El libro se divide en dos partes bien marcadas. La primera consta de relatos y cuentos y la segunda de poemas. Destaco los que m谩s me agradaron: 鈥淒i谩logo sobre un di谩logo鈥�, 鈥淒i谩logo de muertos鈥� (entre Rosas y Quiroga), 鈥淚nferno, I, 32鈥�, 鈥淧oema de los dones鈥�, 鈥淟os Borges鈥� e incluyo en esta rese帽a una peque帽a muestra que resume claramente lo que Borges representa para letras:
ARGUMENTUM ORNITHOLOGICUM Cierro los ojos y veo una bandada de p谩jaros. La visi贸n dura un segundo o acaso menos; no s茅 cu谩ntos p谩jaros vi. 驴Era definido o indefinido su n煤mero? El problema involucra el de la existencia de Dios. Si Dios existe, el n煤mero es definido, porque Dios sabe cu谩ntos p谩jaros vi. Si Dios no existe, el n煤mero es indefinido, porque nadie pudo llevar la cuenta. En tal caso, vi menos de diez p谩jaros (digamos) y m谩s de uno, pero no vi nueve, ocho, siete, seis, cinco, cuatro, tres o dos p谩jaros. Vi un n煤mero entre diez y uno, que no es nueve, ocho, siete, seis, cinco, etc茅tera. Ese n煤mero entero es inconcebible; ergo, Dios existe.
鈥滻mpressions, momentary and vivid, would wash over him.鈥� and then they wash over the reader.
I have the Collected Fictions (with copious translator's notes), but am splitting my review of that into its components, listed in publication order: Collected Fictions - all reviews.
The Maker is the fifth, published in 1960, but often under the name Dreamtigers, so my review of The Maker is now under that title, here: /review/show...
"A Paradise From Which Nobody Shall Ever Expel Us"*
When the Emperor鈥檚 labyrinth was finally completed, one of the architects remarked that it had captured infinity. The Emperor didn鈥檛 believe him, because he had not yet entered the labyrinth and experienced its power, but the remark gave the Emperor an idea for a challenge that he would later make to his two favourite court scribes. And that was that they each create a work that captured infinity in words. Being naturally competitive, the two scribes adopted two totally different methods of achieving their goal: one, being a poet, opted for a concise work that imagined the nature of infinity, while the other, a writer of prose as well as a lawyer, conceived of his work as a lengthy, never-ending, descriptive project.
It might come as no surprise that the poet finished his work first. Indeed, the lawyer never finished his work, and it is still being written by his descendents, who are eager to claim the reward, if not of gold (which the Emperor had already given to the poet during his lifetime), then of renown.
Out of fairness, the Emperor did set a deadline by which he expected his scribes to submit, at least, a draft of their work for his consideration.
The Emperor read the poet鈥檚 work first, because it was both complete and shorter. When he had finished reading, the Emperor said that, 鈥淵ou have proven that infinity is not just a number, but a state of mind.鈥�
The Emperor was less generous with the lawyer, to whom he declared, 鈥淭hough it might not have been your intention, you have managed to convince me that infinity is more than mere multitude.鈥�
University of Texas has the distinction of being the only US school at which Borges was a permanent faculty member. He fell in love with Austin. His mother became an obsessive fan of UT football. In poetry and interview, Borges compared central Texas to the country of his birth, Argentina. Later in life--after he was all but blind--he claimed Austin was the most beautiful city in North America. When asked by a reporter how he could know that... Borges replied, "Because I have beautiful dreams in Austin."
As a token of gratitude, Borges gave the exclusive publishing rights for Dreamtigers to the Texas imprint. Dreamtigers is arguably the crowning jewel of an excellent university press catalog (Dobie, Brammer, etc). Composed in two parts--the first prose and second poetry--Dreamtigers interweaves themes of mirrors, innocence/remembrance, symbolic mutation, and the limits of form into a text that he claimed was his most intensely personal. The intertextual fakes and dodges of this book give it the feel of a highly compressed novel. There is something remarkably feline about the narrative twists... the prose at times seems to crouch in wait... the poetry springs!
If Dreamtigers lacks for emotional drama, Borges is striving for something beyond intellectual understanding. His words are aimed for a deeper, subconscious point of impact. When the reader is open to such an understanding, they will find Dreamtigers very compelling. I'm sure it is a text I will return to over and over. This is also Borges at his writer's writerly-est. He drops in several keys to his narrative architecture as well as philosophical musings about the meaning of fiction and creation.
Borges is the most engaging philosopher I have ever read. He was a man who read every book. His imagination was infinite.
How do you classify a piece like 'Toenails' for instance? A poem. A remarkable fragment of contemplation. A story. A prose piece in the tradition of Walser.
Borges did not have to write long books because he could place eons in a sentence. A continent in a handful of words.
Foucault was inspired to write 'The Order of Things' by a line in a Borges story.
Borges lectured briefly at UT. I wish I could have been there to listen to his talks.
This book is published by the University of Texas Press. All of their volumes are sturdy, and printed on high quality paper.
This one even has woodblock art.
One of Borges favorite authors was G.K. Chesterton.
Borges was obsessed with Don Quixote.
He was from Argentina.
He was a librarian.
One of his pieces on Monk Eastman is used as a preface to newer editions of Asbury's 'Gangs of New York'.
Late in his life he went blind, so he began to compose entire stories in his mind.
Borges'in "en ki艧isel kitab谋m" dedi臒i Yaratan, k谋sa hik芒yelerden, 艧iirlerden ve ancak Borgesvari diye tan谋mlayabilece臒im tuhaf metinlerden olu艧uyor.
Her zamanki gibi yer yer anlamas谋, yakalamas谋 g眉莽 metinlerden olsa da, ortalama bir Borges kitab谋na k谋yasla daha kolay metinlerden olu艧tu臒unu s枚ylemek m眉mk眉n. K谋sa metinlerden olu艧tu臒u i莽in labirentvari hik芒yeler burada ayn谋 heybetle olu艧am谋yor. Daha 枚nce Alef i莽in de s枚ylemi艧tim, Borges basit 艧eyler yazm谋yor, ama tamamen kapal谋, i莽ine girilemez metinler de de臒il bunlar. Borges'in neyi iyi yapt谋臒谋n谋 g枚rmek i莽in ona ve yazd谋klar谋na 艧efkatle yakla艧mak gerekiyor, 莽眉nk眉 dedi臒im gibi, okuyucuya kolayl谋k sa臒lamak gibi bir derdi yok. Bu k谋sa kitap, Borges'e 艧efkat duymak i莽in, onu biraz olsun sevebilmek i莽in g眉zel bir ba艧lang谋莽 noktas谋. Daha 枚nce hi莽 Borges okumam谋艧lar bu kitapla ba艧layabilirler okumaya.
Bir de kitab谋n i莽inde 艧iir b枚l眉m眉 var. Ben 艧iir sevmeyen, okumayan biri olarak birka莽 艧iiri 莽ok be臒endim. Arma臒anlar 艦iiri bunlardan biriydi. Ama birka莽 艧iirden de neredeyse hi莽bir 艧ey anlamad谋m. Hem Borges, hem 艧iir, olur b枚yle 艧eyler deyip ge莽tim a莽谋k莽as谋, 莽ok da pe艧ine d眉艧esim gelmedi.
Es la primera vez que leo algo de Borges. Me gust贸 su manera de escribir y como transmite tanta sabidur铆a a trav茅s de sus palabras, es incre铆ble. Sin dudas, fue un gran comienzo, espero leer m谩s de este gran autor.
in una pagina memorabile (una delle pi霉 belle cose che abbia mai letto in tutta la mia vita - mezza pagina!!!) de L'artefice (tra i 10 libri pi霉 belli di sempre), Borges immagina il cavalier Marino che si dispera in quanto il mondo che lo circonda 猫 troppo difficile e complesso ed egli non ha potuto e saputo restituirlo con i suoi stanchi versi, che ripete quasi con fastidio: porpora del giardino, pompa dei prati,/ gemma di primavera, occhio d'aprile. Il suo libro non potr脿 mai essere variegato e multiforme come il mondo; e anche se riuscisse a sovrapporsi per un solo luminoso istante, il mondo avr脿 sopravanzato l'Adone di un capello: come nel paradosso di Zenone dove Achille non potr脿 mai raggiungere la tartaruga. Pensa questo il cavalier Marino, carico di anni e di gloria, e mentre 猫 in un "vasto letto spagnolo", guarda il giardino attraverso un sereno balcone e una donna che ha posto in un vaso una rosa gialla. e allora accade la rivelazione. Per la prima volta vede quella rosa "come pot猫 vederla Adamo nel Paradiso, e sent矛 che essa stava nella propria eternit脿 e non nelle sue parole". E capisce tutto. (Borges insinua che questa rivelazione poterono scorgerla anche Dante o Omero alla fine della loro vita). Quello che ha scritto non 猫 uno specchio del mondo, ma una cosa aggiunta al mondo. La Rosa gialla dell'Adone non 猫 una copia della rosa del mondo ma un'altra rosa. Qualcosa che nel mondo non esisteva prima di lui e che la sua parola ha creato. Emozione. Quando leggo io voglio scorgere l'altra rosa, quella rosa che gli scrittori che ho amato hanno creato, esaltato, venerato e visto come nessuno ha visto mai. La letteratura non 猫 lo specchio del mondo, ma 猫 una cosa che si aggiunge al mondo, lo arricchisce, lo commuove, lo smuove, lo rende pi霉 vivo: possiamo abitarla come si abita la cima di una montagna, o una vasta pianura, una citt脿 antica. Io la abito, ma essa mi abita con altrettanta intensit脿; mi tocca fisicamente; mi possiede, da sempre.
Borges y yo. "Al otro, a Borges, es a quien le ocurren las cosas. Yo camino por Buenos Aires y me demoro, acaso ya mec谩nicamente, para mirar el arco de un zagu谩n y la puerta cancel; de Borges tengo noticias por el correo y veo su nombre en una terna de profesores o en un diccionario bibliogr谩fico. Me gustan los relojes de arena, los mapas, la tipograf铆a del siglo XVIII, las etimolog铆as, el sabor del caf茅 y la prosa de Stevenson; el otro comparte esas preferencias, pero de un modo vanidoso que las convierte en atributos de un actor. Ser铆a exagerado afirmar que nuestra relaci贸n es hostil; yo vivo, yo me dejo vivir, para que Borges pueda tramar su literatura y esa literatura me justifica. Nada me cuesta confesar que ha logrado ciertas p谩ginas v谩lidas, pero esas p谩ginas no me pueden salvar, quiz谩 porque lo bueno ya no es de nadie, ni siquiera del otro, sino del lenguaje o la tradici贸n. Por lo dem谩s yo estoy destinado a perderme, definitivamente, y s贸lo alg煤n instante de m铆 podr谩 sobrevivir en el otro. Poco a poco voy cedi茅ndole todo, aunque me consta su perversa costumbre de falsear y magnificar. Spinoza entendi贸 que todas las cosas quieren perseverar en su ser; la piedra eternamente quiere ser piedra y el tigre un tigre. Yo he de quedar en Borges, no en m铆 (si es que alguien soy), pero me reconozco menos en sus libros que en muchos otros o que en el laborioso rasgueo de una guitarra. Hace a帽os yo trat茅 de librarme de 茅l y pas茅 de las mitolog铆as del arrabal a los juegos con el tiempo y lo infinito, pero esos juegos son de Borges y ahora tendr茅 que idear otras cosas. As铆 mi vida es una fuga y todo lo pierdo y todo es del olvido, o del otro. No s茅 cual de los dos escribe esta p谩gina"
"Poco antes de morir, descubre que ese paciente laberinto de l铆neas traza la imagen de su cara."
El hacedor se postula como la amalgama perfecta de la tem谩tica borgesiana: sue帽os, inmortalidad, tigres, espejos, tableros de ajedrez, laberintos, el tiempo y el infinito, la literatura, la historia y Dios pueblan sus p谩ginas en una recopilaci贸n miscel谩nea de breves cuentos, poemas y reflexiones que no son sino un canto al anhelo y la memoria de uno de los mejores escritores en lengua espa帽ola de todos los tiempos. De manera concisa y certera, Borges logr贸 con El hacedor una de sus obras m谩s personales, profundas y reveladoras.
Out of the five books by Jorge Luis Borges I've read so far, this is probably the one I find hardest to categorize. It is certainly the most autobiographical of his short story collections, yet also the one that is most mythological in character. The overall impression is that it's Borges himself reflecting back upon both his personal life, literary legacy and all of human history that leads up to this with the consideration of what will happen then. Borges' own internal spiritual life then comes to appear as a microcosm of cultural history, as much as his own use of that literary heritage seeming to unfold as a macrocosm of his own life.
The first half of this volume is taken up by short texts that are one or two pages in length each, that are difficult to categorize into any specific genre but somewhere in the borderland between literary essays, autobiography and the magical realist fiction Borges by then had become celebrated for. The imagery and themes used seem to draw upon the author's life and early literary inspirations, often alluding to them in a direct personal manner when compared to the elaborate "mind game"-type narratives found in "Ficciones" or "The Aleph". Indeed, as the anthology's English-language title suggests, the stories are peculiarly dream-like with the symbolism often coming from recurring dream Borges had as a young man especially one revolving around tigers. Others reflect in turn upon his friendships and other relations to people in the Argentine cultural sphere at the time.
The second half contains more mock epic poetry, perhaps following the premise that Borges' blindness having become total at this point making him even more of a Homer of late modernity than before. As a result, Borges' writing style seems here to more focus on the musical and lyrical rhythm as well as exploration of literature's adaptation to the sonic realm when read aloud, a dimension that is somewhat altered when translated into other languages. Indeed, some of the pieces herein deal with linguistic/cultural barriers in the context of learning or exploring languages from a completely oral and audial perspective, in particular those drawing from mythological traditions outside Borges' own cultural background. I've dealt with the oft-neglected continuity of influence from Edgar Allan Poe to Jorge Luis Borges, in the sense of the puzzle-like aspect of Borges' writing being inspired by a similar quality in Poe's stories only extrapolated even further. Here, it seems like Borges instead follows up not just Poe's inclusion of his poetic work in prose fiction to a similar extrapolation but also the "campfire storytelling" aspect... which is no doubt also how the epic mythological poetry Borges alludes to in many of the stories here was originally meant to be read.
Overall, this is not where I would recommend anyone to start with Borges, even if some literary historians most notably Harold Bloom consider "Dreamtigers" his most important work. If anything "Dreamtigers" should be read as a sort of companion piece to his better known work, which it both builds upon and illuminates further by adding an autobiographical angle to Borges' literary oeuvre.
Como admirador ac茅rrimo de Borges, tengo sin embargo que confesar que este es el que menos me ha gustado de todos sus libros. El Borges poeta no me acaba de convencer (esa man铆a por la rima consonante...) y los otros textos son quiz谩 demasiado breves para mostrar todo su potencial.
Bu kitap bana 艧unu g枚sterdi: edebiyat zaman zaman 莽ok lokal, 莽ok samimi bir 艧ey olabiliyor, bu samimiyet de okura yans谋mad谋臒谋nda felaket bir sonu莽la kar艧谋la艧abiliyorsunuz.
Kitaptaki 艧iirler 枚rne臒in. Ben normalde 艧iir sevmeyen bir insan谋m, zaman谋nda 莽ok 艧iir okurdum ama 艧u s谋ralar sevdi臒im toplasan 眉莽 d枚rt tane 艧iir vard谋r, bu kitaptaki 艧iirlerin de bir tanesi (Borgesler) hari莽 hepsi k枚t眉yd眉 bence. Ama yukar谋da s枚yledi臒im gibi, k枚t眉 ya da iyi demek 莽ok i莽imden gelmiyor, 莽眉nk眉 Borges'in de dedi臒i gibi, bu kitap 莽ok i莽ten bir kitap, ama o i莽tenli臒i kendinde bir i莽tenlik, okura bunu ge莽irmek i莽in hi莽bir 莽abada bulunulmam谋艧 (bulunulmal谋 m谋 da ayr谋 bir soru tabii). Bunlar谋n 眉st眉ne bir de 艧iirlerin 莽eviri olu艧unu, 眉stelik 陌spanyolca'dan 莽eviri olu艧unu ve bizimkine pek de yak谋n olmayan bir k眉lt眉rden izler bar谋nd谋rd谋臒谋n谋 eklersek neden be臒enmedi臒im anla艧谋l谋r san谋r谋m.
D眉z yaz谋lardan birka莽 tanesi 莽ok ho艧tu, bir de Borges Al莽akl谋臒谋n Evrensel Tarihi'ni okudu臒umdan beri bende 枚nemli bir yer edinmi艧ti ama yine de iki y谋ld谋z vermekten alamad谋m kendimi. D眉艧sel Varl谋klar Kitab谋'yla a艧a臒谋 yukar谋 ayn谋 seviyede, ki o kitapta 莽ok fazla mitoloji g枚ndermesi oldu臒u ve ben konuya 莽ok hakim olmad谋臒谋m i莽in, aram谋zda nispeten anlayabildi臒im bir engel vard谋, Yaratan i莽in ayn谋 艧ey s枚z konusu de臒il.
Bu kitapla beraber uzun bir s眉re Borges okumam san谋yorum ki.