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Blindly
Who is the mysterious narrator of Blindly? He is clearly a recluse and a fugitive. It is Jorgen Jorgenson, the nineteenth-century adventurer who became king of Iceland but was condemned to forced labour in the Antipodes. But it is also Comrade Cippico, militant Italian communist, imprisoned for years in Tito's gulag on the "naked island" of Goli Otok. And it is the many partisans, prisoners, sailors, and stowaways who recount the perils of travel, war, and adventure.
In a shifting, choral monologue—part confession, part psychiatric session—a man recounts (invents, falsifies, hides, screams out) his life, which has passed through the horrors, the hopes, and the revolutions of the last century and through widely different lands and seas.
Hailed as a masterpiece upon its initial publication in Italy, Blindly is a novel of highly original, poetic intensity, a Jacob's Ladder reversed to descend into the nether regions of history and, in particular, of the twentieth century.
In a shifting, choral monologue—part confession, part psychiatric session—a man recounts (invents, falsifies, hides, screams out) his life, which has passed through the horrors, the hopes, and the revolutions of the last century and through widely different lands and seas.
Hailed as a masterpiece upon its initial publication in Italy, Blindly is a novel of highly original, poetic intensity, a Jacob's Ladder reversed to descend into the nether regions of history and, in particular, of the twentieth century.
383 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2005
14 people are currently reading
334 people want to read
About the author
Claudio Magris
185books238followersClaudio Magris was born in Trieste in the year 1939. He graduated from the University of Turin, where he studied German studies, and has been a professor of modern German literature at the University of Trieste since 1978.
His most well known book is Danubio (1986), which is a magnum opus. In this book Magris tracks the course of the Danube from its sources to the sea. The whole trip evolves into a colorful, rich canvas of the multicultural European history.
He's translated the works of Ibsen, Kleist and Schnitzler, among others, and he also published essays about Robert Musil, Jorge Luis Borges, Hermann Hesse and many others.
His most well known book is Danubio (1986), which is a magnum opus. In this book Magris tracks the course of the Danube from its sources to the sea. The whole trip evolves into a colorful, rich canvas of the multicultural European history.
He's translated the works of Ibsen, Kleist and Schnitzler, among others, and he also published essays about Robert Musil, Jorge Luis Borges, Hermann Hesse and many others.
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Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
March 6, 2020
Die rote Fahne und das goldene Vlies, Symbole des Aufbruchs, enden als zerrissene, blutige Fetzen im Dreck der Geschichte. Ist die Hoffnung auf Frieden und ein besseres Leben nur ein frommer Wunsch? Ein Traum, der unweigerlich mit Verrat und Brudermord endet, oder in den Todeslagern von Port Arthur, Dachau oder Goli Otok?
Salvatore Cipico, Sohn eines nach Australien emigrierten Italieners und einer Tasmanierin, sitzt in einer psychiatrischen Klinik in Triest seinem Psychiater gegenüber und spricht sein Leben auf Band. Als Beruf gibt er Gefangener an - für den alten Mann dürfte das sein letztes Verhör sein. Als Mitglied der Kommunistischen Partei Italiens war er im spanischen Bürgerkrieg und hat Dachau überlebt. Nach dem Krieg schickte ihn die Partei nach Jugoslawien, wo er nach dem Bruch Titos mit Stalin auf der Gefängnisinsel Goli Otok interniert wurde, in Titos Gulag.
[Das jugoslawische Internierungslager für politische Gefangene auf Goli Otok]
In einem 400-Seiten langen, wirren Monolog voller Ausschweifungen und Ablenkungen versucht Cipico die Scherben seines Lebens zusammenzusetzen. Seine Persönlichkeit löst sich bereits auf und vermischt sich mit der historischen Biographie , einem dänischen Abenteurer, der 1809 für wenige Wochen sogar König von Island war. So wie Cipico war auch Jørgensen regelmäßig Gast diverser Gefängnisse und wurde zuletzt nach Port Arthur in Tasmanien verbannt.
Auch ich bin daran gewöhnt, viele Namen zu haben - sie fallen einer nach dem anderen, aber nach jedem kommt wieder einer, und wenn einer tot ist, lebt der andere, und so fort; und so vermischt man die Karten sämtlicher Polizeistationen der Welt.
Mit großer Geste und tönender Metaphorik mischt er Erinnerung mit Einbildung, historische Details mit Schmerz und Verzweiflung. Er verschränkt persönliche Geschichten mit der Geschichte Europas - Revolutionen, Eroberung, Zusammenbruch und Zerstörung. Und dazwischen immer wieder Fragmente aus der Sage von Jason und den Argonauten auf der Suche nach dem Goldenen Vlies, wie um den ganzen Scherbenhaufen zusammenzuhalten.
Es ist schon ein gewaltiger Wortschwall, der einem hier entgegenflutet, im wahrsten Sinn der Worte, denn das Meer ist im Text allgegenwärtig, sozusagen die epische Übermetapher für das Leben, auf dem wir, mit unseren Gefährten in der Argo sitzend, herumgebeutelt werden.
Ach, wenn es allein das Meer gäbe, das Meer ohne auch nur eine Insel, auf dem ein Fuß eine Spur von Schmerz hinterlassen könnte.
Die Seefahrt ist nichts für Weicheier, es ist eine maskuline Welt, an Bord zählen nur Härte, Todesverachtung und Gehorsam. Das Weiche, das Weibliche ist den Träumen der Seefahrer vorbehalten. Maria (der Name ist Programm) und Salvatore Cipico haben sich in Fiume kennengelernt. In der Erinnerung ist sie nur eine Spiegelung in der Drehtür des Cafés, wo sich die beiden verabredeten. Maria ist das unerreichbare Ziel der Sehnsucht, und immer wenn dieses Spiegelbild auftaucht, beruhigt sich auch die Dünung der Worte. Maria ist das Sinnbild für die Hoffnung auf Heilung in dieser Welt, für den Glauben an das Gute, trotz ewigem Schiffbruch.
Es fällt mir nicht ganz leicht, das Buch zu bewerten. Es ist ohne Frage einzigartig, äußerst virtuos aufgebaut und auf jeden Fall ein Meisterwerk. Hochinteressant sind die historischen Zutaten, die zu weiterführenden Recherchen anregen. Über die Ungeheuerlichkeiten in Tasmanien hatte ich zwei beeindruckende Romane gelesen und war schon vorbereitet (siehe
und
).
Ganz besonders abenteuerlich und spannend fand ich die Geschichte des Jørgen Jørgensen, von dem ich bis dato noch gar nichts gehört hatte.
Und zu dem weitgehend unbekannten Straflager auf Goli Otok fand ich eine erschütternde Doku auf Youtube. Auf der kroatischen Insel nahe Rab belustigen sich heute Feriengäste an den Ruinen des Lagers, die dort ohne jedes Mahnmal gnadenlos vom Tourismus vereinnahmt werden.
[Touristenattraktion auf der Gefängnisinsel Goli Otok]
Warum einen wecken, der schläft? Ich wäre so glücklich, wenn man mich in Frieden ruhen ließe; die Vorstellung ist grauenhaft, daß wir alle am Jüngsten Tag gemeinsam aufwachen müssen, an einem glücklichen letzten Tag, der jedoch zu einem unseligen ersten Tag wird, zum Beginn der Ewigkeit, des Lagers, das nie endet . . .
Die Sprache, mit der Magris seinen Protagonisten erzählen lässt, ist tatsächlich wie das Meer, gewaltig und schäumend. Das kann man auch als gefährliche Drohung sehen und es gab durchaus Stellen, wo ich mich an der Gischt fast verschluckte. Daneben gibt es aber auch die eine oder andere Flaute. Aber so eine Fahrt mit der Argo ist eben keine Kinderjause. Dankenswerterweise ist das Buch in 92 ziemlich kurze Kapitel gegliedert, was zu häufigen Pausen motiviert und die Anstrengung mildert.
Meine persönliche Beziehung zu der Gegend um Triest und Istrien macht die Anstrengung aber wieder wett und geht auf eines meiner eigenen, nicht unbedenklichen jugendlichen Abenteuer zurück:- unter der Fahne der Freiheit und des Größenwahns auf der Suche nach dem Goldenen Vlies, nur anders als Jason, ohne Gefährten und ohne Geld, zu Fuß auf dem Weg nach Griechenland und dauernd auf der Flucht vor der jugoslawischen Policija, das Übernachten im Freien war strengstens verboten, lernte ich solcherart die Küste zwischen Triest und Rijeka ziemlich gründlich kennen. Weiter als in das erwähnte Café in Fiume, dem heutigen Rijeka, bin ich nicht gekommen. Dafür blieben mir Titos Gefängnisse erspart. Verständlich, dass das heute sentimentale Erinnerungen weckt, und deshalb runde ich von vier auf fünf Sterne auf.
Salvatore Cipico, Sohn eines nach Australien emigrierten Italieners und einer Tasmanierin, sitzt in einer psychiatrischen Klinik in Triest seinem Psychiater gegenüber und spricht sein Leben auf Band. Als Beruf gibt er Gefangener an - für den alten Mann dürfte das sein letztes Verhör sein. Als Mitglied der Kommunistischen Partei Italiens war er im spanischen Bürgerkrieg und hat Dachau überlebt. Nach dem Krieg schickte ihn die Partei nach Jugoslawien, wo er nach dem Bruch Titos mit Stalin auf der Gefängnisinsel Goli Otok interniert wurde, in Titos Gulag.
[Das jugoslawische Internierungslager für politische Gefangene auf Goli Otok]
In einem 400-Seiten langen, wirren Monolog voller Ausschweifungen und Ablenkungen versucht Cipico die Scherben seines Lebens zusammenzusetzen. Seine Persönlichkeit löst sich bereits auf und vermischt sich mit der historischen Biographie , einem dänischen Abenteurer, der 1809 für wenige Wochen sogar König von Island war. So wie Cipico war auch Jørgensen regelmäßig Gast diverser Gefängnisse und wurde zuletzt nach Port Arthur in Tasmanien verbannt.
Auch ich bin daran gewöhnt, viele Namen zu haben - sie fallen einer nach dem anderen, aber nach jedem kommt wieder einer, und wenn einer tot ist, lebt der andere, und so fort; und so vermischt man die Karten sämtlicher Polizeistationen der Welt.
Mit großer Geste und tönender Metaphorik mischt er Erinnerung mit Einbildung, historische Details mit Schmerz und Verzweiflung. Er verschränkt persönliche Geschichten mit der Geschichte Europas - Revolutionen, Eroberung, Zusammenbruch und Zerstörung. Und dazwischen immer wieder Fragmente aus der Sage von Jason und den Argonauten auf der Suche nach dem Goldenen Vlies, wie um den ganzen Scherbenhaufen zusammenzuhalten.
Es ist schon ein gewaltiger Wortschwall, der einem hier entgegenflutet, im wahrsten Sinn der Worte, denn das Meer ist im Text allgegenwärtig, sozusagen die epische Übermetapher für das Leben, auf dem wir, mit unseren Gefährten in der Argo sitzend, herumgebeutelt werden.
Ach, wenn es allein das Meer gäbe, das Meer ohne auch nur eine Insel, auf dem ein Fuß eine Spur von Schmerz hinterlassen könnte.
Die Seefahrt ist nichts für Weicheier, es ist eine maskuline Welt, an Bord zählen nur Härte, Todesverachtung und Gehorsam. Das Weiche, das Weibliche ist den Träumen der Seefahrer vorbehalten. Maria (der Name ist Programm) und Salvatore Cipico haben sich in Fiume kennengelernt. In der Erinnerung ist sie nur eine Spiegelung in der Drehtür des Cafés, wo sich die beiden verabredeten. Maria ist das unerreichbare Ziel der Sehnsucht, und immer wenn dieses Spiegelbild auftaucht, beruhigt sich auch die Dünung der Worte. Maria ist das Sinnbild für die Hoffnung auf Heilung in dieser Welt, für den Glauben an das Gute, trotz ewigem Schiffbruch.
Es fällt mir nicht ganz leicht, das Buch zu bewerten. Es ist ohne Frage einzigartig, äußerst virtuos aufgebaut und auf jeden Fall ein Meisterwerk. Hochinteressant sind die historischen Zutaten, die zu weiterführenden Recherchen anregen. Über die Ungeheuerlichkeiten in Tasmanien hatte ich zwei beeindruckende Romane gelesen und war schon vorbereitet (siehe
und
).
Ganz besonders abenteuerlich und spannend fand ich die Geschichte des Jørgen Jørgensen, von dem ich bis dato noch gar nichts gehört hatte.
Und zu dem weitgehend unbekannten Straflager auf Goli Otok fand ich eine erschütternde Doku auf Youtube. Auf der kroatischen Insel nahe Rab belustigen sich heute Feriengäste an den Ruinen des Lagers, die dort ohne jedes Mahnmal gnadenlos vom Tourismus vereinnahmt werden.
[Touristenattraktion auf der Gefängnisinsel Goli Otok]
Warum einen wecken, der schläft? Ich wäre so glücklich, wenn man mich in Frieden ruhen ließe; die Vorstellung ist grauenhaft, daß wir alle am Jüngsten Tag gemeinsam aufwachen müssen, an einem glücklichen letzten Tag, der jedoch zu einem unseligen ersten Tag wird, zum Beginn der Ewigkeit, des Lagers, das nie endet . . .
Die Sprache, mit der Magris seinen Protagonisten erzählen lässt, ist tatsächlich wie das Meer, gewaltig und schäumend. Das kann man auch als gefährliche Drohung sehen und es gab durchaus Stellen, wo ich mich an der Gischt fast verschluckte. Daneben gibt es aber auch die eine oder andere Flaute. Aber so eine Fahrt mit der Argo ist eben keine Kinderjause. Dankenswerterweise ist das Buch in 92 ziemlich kurze Kapitel gegliedert, was zu häufigen Pausen motiviert und die Anstrengung mildert.
Meine persönliche Beziehung zu der Gegend um Triest und Istrien macht die Anstrengung aber wieder wett und geht auf eines meiner eigenen, nicht unbedenklichen jugendlichen Abenteuer zurück:- unter der Fahne der Freiheit und des Größenwahns auf der Suche nach dem Goldenen Vlies, nur anders als Jason, ohne Gefährten und ohne Geld, zu Fuß auf dem Weg nach Griechenland und dauernd auf der Flucht vor der jugoslawischen Policija, das Übernachten im Freien war strengstens verboten, lernte ich solcherart die Küste zwischen Triest und Rijeka ziemlich gründlich kennen. Weiter als in das erwähnte Café in Fiume, dem heutigen Rijeka, bin ich nicht gekommen. Dafür blieben mir Titos Gefängnisse erspart. Verständlich, dass das heute sentimentale Erinnerungen weckt, und deshalb runde ich von vier auf fünf Sterne auf.
October 4, 2017
Magris, da anni, viene considerato il più credibile candidato italiano al Nobel. E il premio Nobel è premio che stimo e rispetto. Come stimo e rispetto il Magris di Danubio.
Qui siamo da altre parti. In questa storia scritta dalla parte di un vinto, e con l'ambizione di raccontare tutti i rivoluzionari sconfitti di ogni epoca e colore (un po' di umiltà, a volte, aiuterebbe i libri a sopravvivere al suo autore), invece stima e rispetto cedono il passo alla sonnolenza post-prandiale, quella che ti artiglia e ti obbliga a leggere e rileggere pagine su pagine, interi capitoli, a volte a riniziare cinquanta pagine prima per vedere se si è perso qualcosa di imperdibile tra le nebbie della confusione.
Chi è l'io narrante? Nonostante venga dichiarato già nelle prime pagine ne saremo certi solo più avanti visto che il protagonista si immedesima nel Re d'Islanda, in Giasone alla caccia del vello e anche le sue amanti cambiano nome, tempo, spazio.
Chi è l'interlocutore dell'io narrante? Non lo capiremo con certezza neanche al termine del libro.
E la scrittura non aiuta: farraginosa, ridondante, faticosa, appesantita dalla necessità di dover raccontare tutto. Con un tentativo di lirismo che abita più dalle parti del barocco che da quelle dell'impero austro-ungarico. O meglio, forse, che sa proprio del neobarocco delle corti primo novecentesche. L'addobbo di una realtà a pochi passi dal baratro, il tentativo di abbellire il crepuscolo.
Poi, ad appesantire ancora le pagine, tanta trita retorica degli sconfitti. I vinti di questo libro fan pensare più al paginone centrale di Repubblica che a Verga,
Una stella in più solo perchè si percepisce, dietro la nebbia, che il talento e l'intelligenza lucida comunque si prodigano a guidare l'autore. Che, però, spinge con troppa forza nella direzione sbagliata.
Qui siamo da altre parti. In questa storia scritta dalla parte di un vinto, e con l'ambizione di raccontare tutti i rivoluzionari sconfitti di ogni epoca e colore (un po' di umiltà, a volte, aiuterebbe i libri a sopravvivere al suo autore), invece stima e rispetto cedono il passo alla sonnolenza post-prandiale, quella che ti artiglia e ti obbliga a leggere e rileggere pagine su pagine, interi capitoli, a volte a riniziare cinquanta pagine prima per vedere se si è perso qualcosa di imperdibile tra le nebbie della confusione.
Chi è l'io narrante? Nonostante venga dichiarato già nelle prime pagine ne saremo certi solo più avanti visto che il protagonista si immedesima nel Re d'Islanda, in Giasone alla caccia del vello e anche le sue amanti cambiano nome, tempo, spazio.
Chi è l'interlocutore dell'io narrante? Non lo capiremo con certezza neanche al termine del libro.
E la scrittura non aiuta: farraginosa, ridondante, faticosa, appesantita dalla necessità di dover raccontare tutto. Con un tentativo di lirismo che abita più dalle parti del barocco che da quelle dell'impero austro-ungarico. O meglio, forse, che sa proprio del neobarocco delle corti primo novecentesche. L'addobbo di una realtà a pochi passi dal baratro, il tentativo di abbellire il crepuscolo.
Poi, ad appesantire ancora le pagine, tanta trita retorica degli sconfitti. I vinti di questo libro fan pensare più al paginone centrale di Repubblica che a Verga,
Una stella in più solo perchè si percepisce, dietro la nebbia, che il talento e l'intelligenza lucida comunque si prodigano a guidare l'autore. Che, però, spinge con troppa forza nella direzione sbagliata.
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March 16, 2013Blindly by Claudio Magris (Yale UP, 2012. Trans. from the Italian by Anne Milano Appel)
Claudio Magris, one of the most respected contemporary European intellectuals, is virtually unknown in the US—that’s why the publication of his novel, Blindly, in Anne Milano Appel’s very skilful translation, is a welcome change.
As all the reviewers have observed, it is hard to identify who the narrator in this novel is: is he “Comrade Cippico,� a Communist (not “anti-Communist,� as the book jacket wrongly states!) of Italian origin, who ends up, together with other Italian comrades in Tito’s gulag on the island of Goli Otok? Or is he Jorgen Jorgenson, a nineteenth-century adventurer with a twisted background, who is condemned to forced labor in Australia? As it becomes clear from early on, he is both: Magris creates a speaker of mixed identities and a listener (the man to whom he confesses, who might be a psychiatrist) equally ambiguous.
Blindly is a challenging, intriguing and beautifully written novel, but, above all, it is a novel of ideas—hence the question: what’s the book’s message? A novel needn’t have a message, but this one clearly has one; the problem is that, although the ideas in it are easy to identify, the overall message is not. Since Comrade Cippico has been interned at Dachau before Goli Otok, we can assume that he represents the little man crushed by history from all sides, right and left, Nazis and Communists. But Cippico, who, like his comrades, is in search of “the golden fleece,� doesn’t abandon his search and his belief in communism, even after his horrific tortures in Tito’s gulag, and this is where the novel’s ambiguity becomes problematic. We don’t get the sense the Magris deconstructs this search, but rather, that he presents Cippico simply as a victim of, let’s call them some bad manipulators of history. Also, consider this reflection: “Those who want to keep man enslaved—like the Fascists, the Nazis, the capitalists…� Statements like this made me less enthusiastic than I might have been about this novel. I’m no fan of “the capitalists,� but to list them next to the Nazis, especially after having called Dachau “the apocalypse,� is the kind of rushed talk one expects from a righteous freshman, and not from someone with Magris’s credentials. Besides, what “capitalists� are we talking about here? People who have “capital�? Anyone with a bank account? (Yes, I am aware that the narrator doesn’t equal Magris, but since this is an ideologically-charged novel, the author’s own ideas are relevant, and the reader can often guess when he identifies with the character’s speech).
A technique Magris uses is the contemporary rewriting of Greek myths and characters (the golden fleece is one of them). By inserting them in a contemporary setting he demystifies them and attempts to achieve some kind of universalization of his own characters and events: “the same old Charon going by the name of Daniel O’Leary; the ruse is successful, a facelift that makes him seem much younger…� This technique was very popular before WWII, in particular among French playwrights, such as Giraudoux—but today, this seems a bit outdated.
Luckily, I was patient enough to read until the end, and at page 316, I stumbled upon this great passage:
The fleece suffocates, it brings death to whoever touches it. . . . Every previous possessor, robbed by a subsequent one, is in turn a usurper who appropriated it unlawfully [aha! We are getting to the ‘lesson�!] Give it back to the animal, killed and flayed in homage to the gods always thirsting for blood; only on the sheep’s back was the fleece in its rightful place [Italics mine].�
I confess, I wasn’t expecting this! This is definitely better than Giraudoux!
Claudio Magris, one of the most respected contemporary European intellectuals, is virtually unknown in the US—that’s why the publication of his novel, Blindly, in Anne Milano Appel’s very skilful translation, is a welcome change.
As all the reviewers have observed, it is hard to identify who the narrator in this novel is: is he “Comrade Cippico,� a Communist (not “anti-Communist,� as the book jacket wrongly states!) of Italian origin, who ends up, together with other Italian comrades in Tito’s gulag on the island of Goli Otok? Or is he Jorgen Jorgenson, a nineteenth-century adventurer with a twisted background, who is condemned to forced labor in Australia? As it becomes clear from early on, he is both: Magris creates a speaker of mixed identities and a listener (the man to whom he confesses, who might be a psychiatrist) equally ambiguous.
Blindly is a challenging, intriguing and beautifully written novel, but, above all, it is a novel of ideas—hence the question: what’s the book’s message? A novel needn’t have a message, but this one clearly has one; the problem is that, although the ideas in it are easy to identify, the overall message is not. Since Comrade Cippico has been interned at Dachau before Goli Otok, we can assume that he represents the little man crushed by history from all sides, right and left, Nazis and Communists. But Cippico, who, like his comrades, is in search of “the golden fleece,� doesn’t abandon his search and his belief in communism, even after his horrific tortures in Tito’s gulag, and this is where the novel’s ambiguity becomes problematic. We don’t get the sense the Magris deconstructs this search, but rather, that he presents Cippico simply as a victim of, let’s call them some bad manipulators of history. Also, consider this reflection: “Those who want to keep man enslaved—like the Fascists, the Nazis, the capitalists…� Statements like this made me less enthusiastic than I might have been about this novel. I’m no fan of “the capitalists,� but to list them next to the Nazis, especially after having called Dachau “the apocalypse,� is the kind of rushed talk one expects from a righteous freshman, and not from someone with Magris’s credentials. Besides, what “capitalists� are we talking about here? People who have “capital�? Anyone with a bank account? (Yes, I am aware that the narrator doesn’t equal Magris, but since this is an ideologically-charged novel, the author’s own ideas are relevant, and the reader can often guess when he identifies with the character’s speech).
A technique Magris uses is the contemporary rewriting of Greek myths and characters (the golden fleece is one of them). By inserting them in a contemporary setting he demystifies them and attempts to achieve some kind of universalization of his own characters and events: “the same old Charon going by the name of Daniel O’Leary; the ruse is successful, a facelift that makes him seem much younger…� This technique was very popular before WWII, in particular among French playwrights, such as Giraudoux—but today, this seems a bit outdated.
Luckily, I was patient enough to read until the end, and at page 316, I stumbled upon this great passage:
The fleece suffocates, it brings death to whoever touches it. . . . Every previous possessor, robbed by a subsequent one, is in turn a usurper who appropriated it unlawfully [aha! We are getting to the ‘lesson�!] Give it back to the animal, killed and flayed in homage to the gods always thirsting for blood; only on the sheep’s back was the fleece in its rightful place [Italics mine].�
I confess, I wasn’t expecting this! This is definitely better than Giraudoux!
July 25, 2018
When a novelist is a historian and a historian is a novelis, the process of writing a novel about a historical event is in most cases too challenging for the writer to accomplish the feat with the heightened inspiration that makes for a great novel. Magris overcame this problem by not writing the story of about 2000 Italian communists from Monfalcone, Italy, who moved to communist Yugoslavia after WWII yet found themselves condemned to suffer on Goli Otok, Tito's prison island, when they were caught up in the bureaucratic mess that resulted from Tito's break from Stalin.
That is to say that Magris did not write this story until the mystical process of inspiration rose uninvited, at least consciously, in the woods of figureheads--and then the novel was an inevitable and brilliant feat of writing that swarms centuries and bleeds fishblood as prose.
That is to say that Magris did not write this story until the mystical process of inspiration rose uninvited, at least consciously, in the woods of figureheads--and then the novel was an inevitable and brilliant feat of writing that swarms centuries and bleeds fishblood as prose.
April 18, 2022
This is not an easy book to read and attempting to explain what it is about may be an even greater challenge. It is an elaborate puzzle written in snippets of stream of consciousness by a man who seems to be talking to his psychiatrist. The man appears to be a man called Cippico who was a victim of torture and had gone insane. He was an Italian communist who had been sent to Dachau and when he was released had moved to Yugoslavia where he got caught up in the break from Stalin by Tito. He was then imprisoned on an island concentration camp known as Goli Otok where he was tortured. That, as far as I could determine, was the core of the story but I could be wrong because as he was talking to his doctor he went off into wildly different directions. He took on alternate identities in different time periods and claimed to be Jorgan Jorganson a Danish adventurer who was condemned to forced labor in Australia in the 1800's and hunted down aborigines.
Claudio Magris is an extraordinary author who writes superbly lyrical prose but his work can, at times, be almost impenetrable until the reader has gone far enough through the book that the pieces start coming together. This is my third book by him and he can definitely be a challenge but I can't wait to read another because I really enjoy that.
Claudio Magris is an extraordinary author who writes superbly lyrical prose but his work can, at times, be almost impenetrable until the reader has gone far enough through the book that the pieces start coming together. This is my third book by him and he can definitely be a challenge but I can't wait to read another because I really enjoy that.
May 10, 2015
Salvatore Cippico tells his life of Italian-Australian partisan from the early 20th century to the 90s. His ideas ground by History and his body crushed by the torturers, he ends up old and insane in a psychiatric hospital. One lost battle after the other, he tells his doctor how he was sent to Dachau because he was communist, and then to a concentration camp in Yugoslavia because he was on Stalin's side when the alliance with Tito was broken. Of his love for figureheads and how they remember him of Maria, that he loved and abandoned when the Party asked him to do so. Of how once in his life he was among the torturers, too - when the communists slaughtered the anarchists during the civil war in Spain.
But his story has to be disentangled from his delirium, where he is also Jorgen Jorgensen, a Danish adventurer that was king of Islands for two weeks and prisoner for most of the rest of his life, and finally one of the chiefs of the extermination of the aboriginal Australians. And where he is also Jason, who brings back the golden Fleece reddened by the blood of his sailors and of his enemies; and many more.
The whole novel is written as the stream of consciousness of Cippico. Magris hides in it passages of great literature and reflections on the eternal war between the needs of History and those of individuals. It is hard not to be sucked into the vortex of the main character's thoughts and their quick pace - this makes the book quite a difficult read. Take your time to linger over the most intense passages.
But his story has to be disentangled from his delirium, where he is also Jorgen Jorgensen, a Danish adventurer that was king of Islands for two weeks and prisoner for most of the rest of his life, and finally one of the chiefs of the extermination of the aboriginal Australians. And where he is also Jason, who brings back the golden Fleece reddened by the blood of his sailors and of his enemies; and many more.
The whole novel is written as the stream of consciousness of Cippico. Magris hides in it passages of great literature and reflections on the eternal war between the needs of History and those of individuals. It is hard not to be sucked into the vortex of the main character's thoughts and their quick pace - this makes the book quite a difficult read. Take your time to linger over the most intense passages.
February 15, 2018
Marvellous writing � each chapter can be read as a prose poem in a long cycle rather than as a chapter in a novel � but what was the book's point? I found myself asking the question after the first 10 or so pages and was still asking it at the end. Magris apparently wanted to write about a post-WWII prison island in the former Yugoslavia. He did so effectively in this wandering reminiscence/imagining by a fictional elderly patient in a mental hospital. But he had this narrator juxtapose a pseudo-memory of Jorgen Jorgensen, a remarkable real-life Danish adventurer from the early 1800s, with the modern story � the conceit being that the narrator thinks he lived earlier as Jorgensen.
Magris saw the older story as a distorted reflection of the modern one (and threw in a few citations from the story of Jason and the Argonauts for a third layer). One story was to reinforce the other. I did not see any kind of reflection, let alone a parallel. I willingly read the whole book because it was written (and translated) so well. But still �
And so the decision on the rating: 4 stars for style, technique and, as the cover blurb says, the "poetic intensity," but 2 stars for the story; average = 3. A good enough read that I will probably look up his book "Danube" someday.
Magris saw the older story as a distorted reflection of the modern one (and threw in a few citations from the story of Jason and the Argonauts for a third layer). One story was to reinforce the other. I did not see any kind of reflection, let alone a parallel. I willingly read the whole book because it was written (and translated) so well. But still �
And so the decision on the rating: 4 stars for style, technique and, as the cover blurb says, the "poetic intensity," but 2 stars for the story; average = 3. A good enough read that I will probably look up his book "Danube" someday.
May 18, 2019
De ik-figuur, een psychiatrische patient, vertelt zijn belevenissen als een soort stream of consciousness aan zijn psychiater. Hij is kennelijk een Australische-Italiaanse communist, die in de nodige oorlogen en schermutselingen heeft gevochten. Alles loopt door elkaar. Tussendoor vertelt hij ook nog de lotgevallen van Jason en de Argonauten, Hij was destijds Jorgen Jorgensen, een Deens-Ijslandse piraat, die drie weken koning van Ijsland was en vervolgens na door de Engelsen naar Australie te zijn gestuurd in Tasmanie de stad Hobart stichtte. Van recenter datum is zijn verblijf in Dachau, de Gulag, op het gevangeniseiland Goli Otok van Tito en zijn deelname aan de Spaanse burgeroorlog. Klinkt verwarrend en dat is het ook. Je moet goed opletten als je dit boek leest. Maar..het is prachtig geschreven en er zit veel filosofie en historie in.
Bij nachecken in Wikipedia en Google blijken de feiten en de namen wel te kloppen. Horen alleen niet bij een persoon. De stukken over Tasmanie deden mij veel denken aan het boek van Richard Flanagan: Goulds book of fish.
Bij nachecken in Wikipedia en Google blijken de feiten en de namen wel te kloppen. Horen alleen niet bij een persoon. De stukken over Tasmanie deden mij veel denken aan het boek van Richard Flanagan: Goulds book of fish.
December 23, 2019
Non mi è piaciuto. Troppi cambi repentini di date, luoghi e non si capisce bene chi sia il protagonista. Ogni volta è un personaggio diverso. Nella seconda parte del romanzo forse si capisce meglio il senso della trama. Al protagonista gli vengono forniti romanzi, biografie e quant'altro ed ogni folta si identifica nel personaggio che sta leggendo in quel momento, tanto da confondere la sua vita reale con quella delle sue letture, ecco perché ogni volta lo ritroviamo in contesti diversi, ed in rari casi, non si fa chiamare in nessun nome. Proprio perché all'interno di quella storia che legge lui non esiste.
August 28, 2021
Novel·la difícil de llegir i de classificar, sembla que va febg tombs entre històries i personatges que no acaben de reeixir.
November 7, 2016
An old man, apparently in a psychiatric clinic, tells about his life - he was a member of the Italian communist party, fought in the Spanish civil war, got arrested at Dachau, then in a camp in Yugoslavia, etc.
At the same time, he also tells about his previous life, in the XIX century, as a sailor, (briefly) king of Iceland, worker in Australia... according to the narrator, he was reborn along the way.
Interesting thing - not only he treats this fact as very normal, a couple of times he says decisions he made at the XIX century where based in his experiences of the XX century...
This is a winding book, very well written, quite poetic. You get the whole story in the first chapters, and then the narrator will become more specific about each event. We have many less-known historic subjects. The colonization of Australia, concentration camps in Yugoslavia for the enemies of Tito, Iceland and its relations with England and Denmark, etc. A lot of stuff about navigation... Of course everything about the communist party and how the left fought between them - anarchists vs. socialists vs. communists got my attention, but history of Australia and Iceland are not things I care too much about (but they are interesting). The book evidently was written by a professor, by someone who did a lot of research.
The main problem is that, in my opinion, it lacks a bit of heart. Instead of the character acting, he is quite passive - it´s like history is acting upon him. This is intentional, I believe - the nautical terms and analogies abound (and with Jason and the golden fleece), and in fact the character seems like a man who got into a ship which carries him to another place. Most everything he lives is because someone else has arrested him/sent him here or there/etc.
In short, very well written, but too much research. If this were a song insted of a book, I would say the musician was too "technical".
At the same time, he also tells about his previous life, in the XIX century, as a sailor, (briefly) king of Iceland, worker in Australia... according to the narrator, he was reborn along the way.
Interesting thing - not only he treats this fact as very normal, a couple of times he says decisions he made at the XIX century where based in his experiences of the XX century...
This is a winding book, very well written, quite poetic. You get the whole story in the first chapters, and then the narrator will become more specific about each event. We have many less-known historic subjects. The colonization of Australia, concentration camps in Yugoslavia for the enemies of Tito, Iceland and its relations with England and Denmark, etc. A lot of stuff about navigation... Of course everything about the communist party and how the left fought between them - anarchists vs. socialists vs. communists got my attention, but history of Australia and Iceland are not things I care too much about (but they are interesting). The book evidently was written by a professor, by someone who did a lot of research.
The main problem is that, in my opinion, it lacks a bit of heart. Instead of the character acting, he is quite passive - it´s like history is acting upon him. This is intentional, I believe - the nautical terms and analogies abound (and with Jason and the golden fleece), and in fact the character seems like a man who got into a ship which carries him to another place. Most everything he lives is because someone else has arrested him/sent him here or there/etc.
In short, very well written, but too much research. If this were a song insted of a book, I would say the musician was too "technical".
March 10, 2013
This is an unusual novel that has a poetic intensity. There is an unnamed first-person narrator ostensibly telling the story of his life to a 'Doctor', but he recounts experiences(usually of suffering)that range from 18th-century deportation to Australia to Dachau and a postWW2 prison in the former Yugoslavia, to Iceland. There are recurring references to the myth of Jason and the Argonauts and repeated invocations of ships' figureheads. It is left ambivalent whether the narrator is delusional, mistaking books he has read for his own direct experience, and is talking to his psychiatrist, or if he, as an everyman figure, has been repeatedly reincarnated.
February 8, 2010
I gave decides to read this book because it was one of the books selected for the Literature Nobel.
I think it is a quite hard book. I needed to read many times the same page to understand whats about. And now that I finished Im not so sure whats about the book. Its hard to understand, quite confusing and the reading does not flows...!!
No a good choise.
I think it is a quite hard book. I needed to read many times the same page to understand whats about. And now that I finished Im not so sure whats about the book. Its hard to understand, quite confusing and the reading does not flows...!!
No a good choise.
June 14, 2012
That's one of the best reflections I have ever read on human condition/nature and disappointment -and love, and loss-. Moreover it is marvelously written through parallel narratives in different historical contexts with something in common (if you want, a kind of 'Intolerance' structure but with much more deep values than those of Griffith).
September 23, 2015
Pēc pirmajām pārdesmit lappusēm uz brīdi gribēju mest malā, jo jutos iebridis pārāk dziļos džungļos, bet pie beigām jau biju mērenā sajūsmā, vēl jo vairāk tāpēc, ka hiperintelektuāli politvēsturiski romāni man parasti neko daudz pie sirds neiet.
October 30, 2009
De stijl is mij toch wat te intellectualistisch. Dit was effe doorbijten. Anderzijds is de vermenging van herinneringen briljant gedaan.
February 25, 2015
Masterful.
August 16, 2015
Magris è un grande saggista (Danubio, Microcosmi) e un bravo scrittore (illazioni su una sciabola, un altro mare) ma sul romanzo di ampio respiro non è convincente.
February 17, 2013
My review here:
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