What do you think?
Rate this book
A Man Asleep
A Man Asleep (French: Un homme qui dort) is a 1967 novel by the French writer Georges Perec. It uses a second-person narrative, and follows a 25-year-old student, who one day decides to be indifferent about the world. A Man Asleep was adapted into a 1974 film, The Man Who Sleeps.
138 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1967
About the author
Georges Perec
133 books1,483 followersGeorges Perec was a highly-regarded French novelist, filmmaker, and essayist. He was a member of the Oulipo group. Many of his novels and essays abound with experimental wordplay, lists, and attempts at classification, and they are usually tinged with melancholy.
Born in a working-class district of Paris, Perec was the only son of Icek Judko and Cyrla (Schulewicz) Peretz, Polish Jews who had emigrated to France in the 1920s. He was a distant relative of the Yiddish writer Isaac Leib Peretz.
Perec's first novel, Les Choses (Things: A Story of the Sixties) was awarded the Prix Renaudot in 1965.
In 1978, Perec won the prix Médicis for Life: A User's Manual (French title, La Vie mode d'emploi), possibly his best-known work. The 99 chapters of this 600 page piece move like a knight's tour of a chessboard around the room plan of a Paris apartment building, describing the rooms and stairwell and telling the stories of the inhabitants.
Cantatrix Sopranica L. is a spoof scientific paper detailing experiments on the "yelling reaction" provoked in sopranos by pelting them with rotten tomatoes. All the references in the paper are multi-lingual puns and jokes, e.g. "(Karybb et Scyla, 1973)".
Perec is also noted for his constrained writing: his 300-page novel La disparition (1969) is a lipogram, written without ever using the letter "e". It has been translated into English by Gilbert Adair under the title A Void (1994). The silent disappearance of the letter might be considered a metaphor for the Jewish experience during the Second World War. Since the name 'Georges Perec' is full of 'e's, the disappearance of the letter also ensures the author's own 'disappearance'.
His novella Les revenentes (1972) is a complementary univocalic piece in which the letter "e" is the only vowel used. This constraint affects even the title, which would conventionally be spelt Revenantes. An English translation by Ian Monk was published in 1996 as The Exeter Text: Jewels, Secrets, Sex in the collection Three.
It has been remarked by Jacques Roubaud that these two novels draw words from two disjoint sets of the French language, and that a third novel would be possible, made from the words not used so far (those containing both "e" and a vowel other than "e").
W ou le souvenir d'enfance, (W, or, the Memory of Childhood, 1975) is a semi-autobiographical work which is hard to classify. Two alternating narratives make up the volume: one, a fictional outline of a totalitarian island country called "W", patterned partly on life in a concentration camp; and the second, descriptions of childhood. Both merge towards the end when the common theme of the Holocaust is explained.
Perec was a heavy smoker throughout his life, and was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1981. He died the following year in Ivry-sur-Seine at only forty-five-years old. His ashes are held at the columbarium of the Père Lachaise Cemetery.
David Bellos wrote an extensive biography of Perec: Georges Perec: A Life in Words, which won the Académie Goncourt's bourse for biography in 1994.
Born in a working-class district of Paris, Perec was the only son of Icek Judko and Cyrla (Schulewicz) Peretz, Polish Jews who had emigrated to France in the 1920s. He was a distant relative of the Yiddish writer Isaac Leib Peretz.
Perec's first novel, Les Choses (Things: A Story of the Sixties) was awarded the Prix Renaudot in 1965.
In 1978, Perec won the prix Médicis for Life: A User's Manual (French title, La Vie mode d'emploi), possibly his best-known work. The 99 chapters of this 600 page piece move like a knight's tour of a chessboard around the room plan of a Paris apartment building, describing the rooms and stairwell and telling the stories of the inhabitants.
Cantatrix Sopranica L. is a spoof scientific paper detailing experiments on the "yelling reaction" provoked in sopranos by pelting them with rotten tomatoes. All the references in the paper are multi-lingual puns and jokes, e.g. "(Karybb et Scyla, 1973)".
Perec is also noted for his constrained writing: his 300-page novel La disparition (1969) is a lipogram, written without ever using the letter "e". It has been translated into English by Gilbert Adair under the title A Void (1994). The silent disappearance of the letter might be considered a metaphor for the Jewish experience during the Second World War. Since the name 'Georges Perec' is full of 'e's, the disappearance of the letter also ensures the author's own 'disappearance'.
His novella Les revenentes (1972) is a complementary univocalic piece in which the letter "e" is the only vowel used. This constraint affects even the title, which would conventionally be spelt Revenantes. An English translation by Ian Monk was published in 1996 as The Exeter Text: Jewels, Secrets, Sex in the collection Three.
It has been remarked by Jacques Roubaud that these two novels draw words from two disjoint sets of the French language, and that a third novel would be possible, made from the words not used so far (those containing both "e" and a vowel other than "e").
W ou le souvenir d'enfance, (W, or, the Memory of Childhood, 1975) is a semi-autobiographical work which is hard to classify. Two alternating narratives make up the volume: one, a fictional outline of a totalitarian island country called "W", patterned partly on life in a concentration camp; and the second, descriptions of childhood. Both merge towards the end when the common theme of the Holocaust is explained.
Perec was a heavy smoker throughout his life, and was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1981. He died the following year in Ivry-sur-Seine at only forty-five-years old. His ashes are held at the columbarium of the Père Lachaise Cemetery.
David Bellos wrote an extensive biography of Perec: Georges Perec: A Life in Words, which won the Académie Goncourt's bourse for biography in 1994.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 622 reviews
February 19, 2023
Apathy… Escapism… Fleeing from reality… Slumber…
Reject all the goals… There’s nothing you need… There’s nothing you want… Just be… Just exist…
Don’t move purposely from point A to point B… Just let the stream carry you…
Be indifferent… Chose nothing… Just participate in the Brownian motion…
Deprived of will and motivation, man turns into an inert particle immersed in lethargic entropy.
As soon as you close your eyes, the adventure of sleep begins.
Reject all the goals… There’s nothing you need… There’s nothing you want… Just be… Just exist…
Your past, your present and your future merge into one: they are now just the heaviness of your limbs, your nagging migraine, your lassitude, the heat…
Don’t move purposely from point A to point B… Just let the stream carry you…
You are a man of leisure, a sleepwalker, a mollusc. The definitions vary according to the hour of the day, or the day of the week, but the meaning remains clear enough: you do not really feel cut out for living, for doing, for making; you want only to go on, to go on waiting, and to forget.
Be indifferent… Chose nothing… Just participate in the Brownian motion…
You rub shoulders with them, you walk with them, you make your way amongst them: the sleepwalkers, the animals, the old men, the cretins, the deaf-mutes with their berets pulled down over their ears, the drunkards, the dotards who clear their throats and try to control the spasms of their cheek muscles or the twitching of their eyelids, the peasants lost in the big city, the widows, the slyboots, the old boys, the snoopers.
Deprived of will and motivation, man turns into an inert particle immersed in lethargic entropy.
March 12, 2020
“Un hombre que duerme” se abre con una cita de Kafka:
No, no es Bartleby, ni tampoco Meursault. No está muerto. No se ha vuelto loco. Todo lo contrario, siente, tiene miedo, sí, pero siente y ya espera, espera "a que la lluvia deje de caer". Quién sabe lo que vendrá después.
«No es necesario que salgas de casa. Quédate a tu mesa y escucha. Ni siquiera escuches, espera solamente. Ni siquiera esperes, quédate completamente solo y en silencio. El mundo llegará a ti para hacerse desenmascarar, no puede dejar de hacerlo, se prosternará extático a tus pies.»Este será el camino elegido por nuestro protagonista una vez que, como si de un Gregor Samsa se tratara, se descubre un buen día enfrentado a una terrible verdad, “no sabe vivir, nunca sabrá”.
«¡Esta caldera, este horno, esta parrilla que es la vida, estos miles y miles de requerimientos, de provocaciones, de amenazas, de exaltaciones, de desesperaciones, este baño de obligaciones que nunca se acaba, esta eterna máquina de producir, de triturar, de engullir, de superar baches, de volver a empezar de nuevo una y otra vez, este dulce terror que insiste cada día, cada hora de tu ínfima existencia!»A partir de ese momento epifánico le acompañaremos en sus interminables itinerarios parisinos que le llevarán tediosamente por bares, cines, cafés, verbenas, museos, mercados, bibliotecas, escaparates, parques, siempre sin objetivo, siguiendo su propia sombra o una espalda gris. Persiguiendo un anhelo de serenidad sin hastío ni amargura utilizará solo las palabras justas y necesarias, no habrá saludos ni disculpas ni relojes ni carcajadas, solo el abandono de fines, de proyectos, de deseos, de elecciones…
«Caminas o no caminas. Duermes o no duermes. Bajas tus seis pisos, vuelves a subirlos. Compras le Monde o no lo compras. Comes o no comes. Te sientas, te acuestas, te quedas de pie, te deslizas dentro de la sala oscura de un cine. Enciendes un cigarrillo. Cruzas las calles, cruzas el Sena, te detienes, te vas. Juegas al millón o no juegas. »Pero algo no va bien. Una prosa lírica y bella va poco a poco contradiciendo en su forma este anhelo de ser piedra, de ser árbol, de ser rata. La voz, en segunda persona y en tiempo presente, con frases muy cortas o muy punteadas, haciendo continuas enumeraciones, va adquiriendo un ritmo, una impaciencia que casa poco o nada con lo que debería ser el estado anímico del protagonista. Una rabia creciente va tiñendo sus reflexiones, un subterráneo enfrentamiento con la vida elegida le va despertando. Nada ha podido evitar que se muerda las uñas, ni que de forma incesante entrelace y desenlace los dedos. Las ratas no buscan conciliar el sueño durante horas. Las ratas no se despiertan sobresaltadas, invadidas por el pánico, empapadas en sudor. Las ratas no sueñan. Por fin, llega el grito:
"Deja de hablar como un hombre que sueña. ¡Mira!"No es esta, como dijo Camus acerca de su novela El extranjero, citada expresamente en el libro, una novela realista ni fantástica. Su protagonista es uno de esos personajes improbables que encarnan una forma de hacer frente a un problema existencial, uno de esos personajes que son la novela. Un Bartleby, que también tiene su propia cita en el relato, sí, pero un Bartleby que aprende, un Bartleby que descubre que esa postura que pretendía ser una victoria de la libertad no era en sí misma más que una rotunda derrota de la vida.
No, no es Bartleby, ni tampoco Meursault. No está muerto. No se ha vuelto loco. Todo lo contrario, siente, tiene miedo, sí, pero siente y ya espera, espera "a que la lluvia deje de caer". Quién sabe lo que vendrá después.
Read
April 8, 2022
Existentialism places the emphasis on feelings and emotions, the very crux of our human condition, precisely why this modern European philosophy finds its clearest expression not in abstract ideas, reason or logic but in literature, particularly the novel.
If you begin reading an existential novel, you will quickly come upon at least one character confronting such things as isolation, dread, alienation, nothingness, the absurd.
A Man Asleep certainly qualifies as an existential novel since the main character, a twenty-five year old male student living in a Paris apartment, must deal with all of the above. Additionally, Georges Perec has created something I've not encountered previously - an existential novel written in intimate second person.
Intimate because the "you" the narrator speaks to is not only the young student in the story but also you the reader. After all, each of us has had the student's experience of going to sleep, hearing the alarm in the morning, fixing coffee, reading a book, taking a walk, solving a puzzle, watching a film.
Ah, fixing one's morning coffee and going out for a brisk walk - life doesn't get any more ordinary. And since existentialism thrives in the atmosphere of the particular rather than the general, the specific rather than the abstract, I'll maintain an existential spirit and share a closer look at Georges' short novel (under 100 pages) by linking my observations with individual passages:
"As soon as you close your eyes, the adventure of sleep begins."
Adventure? When we think of someone embarking on an adventure, we usually think in terms of a "colorful" adventure, more exciting, provocative ups then sombre, dark, shadowy downs. It only takes the first pages for us to register this Georges Perec tale contains more shadows than color.
"You are a man of leisure, a sleepwalker, a mollusc. The definitions vary according to the hour of the day, or the day of the week, but the meaning remains clear enough: you do not really feel cut out for living, for doing, for making; you want only to go on, to go on waiting, and to forget."
We're given the distinct impression the Parisian student desires nothing more than to crawl up in his shell and have the outside world go away. Is the student dealing with a form of what we now recognize as clinical depression? If so, then what follows as the tale unfolds will be judged, in part, as a medical issue, in addition to a psychological or existential one.
Georges Perec, Jacques Spiesser and Bernard Queysanne on the set of The Man Who Sleeps (Un homme qui dort), the 1974 film based on Georges' 1967 novel A Man Asleep.
"You often play cards all by yourself. You deal out bridge hands, you try to solve the weekly problems in Le Monde, but you are no better than mediocre and your plays lack elegance: no subtlety in the squeeze, in the discards, in getting in and out of the dummy."
One of the ongoing central issues of European culture stretching back to the 19th century - boredom. German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer wrote extensively that playing cards is one way people inclined to boredom will kill time. To "kill time" - this is the actual language the narrator uses when speaking of the student. According to Schopenhauer, the wise man will "use time"; the dullard will "kill time."
Sidebar: I recall my own feelings of boredom in my early teens. But once I went off to college and was introduced to philosophy and the great philosophers, my imagination caught fire and my intellectual boundaries were expanded such that never once in the ensuing fifty years have I ever been bored.
"Time passes, you are drowsy. You put down the open book beside you on the bed. Everything is vague, throbbing. Your breathing is astonishing regular. A tiny, black insect, quite possibly unreal, opens up an undreamt-of breach in the labyrinth of cracks in the ceiling."
Interestingly enough, the student's visual exploration of the ceiling provides a glimpse of a book Georges Perec would go on to write some years later, Species of Spaces. In Species, Georges encourages us to employ our powers of perception, our imagination, our fancy in a dynamic interaction with the spaces we inhabit.
"You pay, you pocket the change, you sit down, you eat. You take a copy of Le Monde from the top of its pile and place two twenty-centime coins in the vendor's dish. you never say please, hello, thank you, goodbye. You never say sorry. You do not ask your way."
There's a strong irony working in our modern society - among denizens of large cities like the student's Paris, feelings of isolation are all too common. So many faces close enough to reach out and touch, but, alas, all are strangers. Added to this, the student lacks any inclination to make even the barest gesture of politeness or kindness.
"Indifference dissolves language and scrambles the signs. You are patient and you are not waiting, you are free and you do not choose, you are available and nothing arouses your enthusiasm. You ask for nothing. You demand nothing, you make no impositions."
I hear an echo of Jean-Paul Sartre's emphasis on freedom as a supreme value, most vibrant when we make our choices. But what happens to our freedom when we're overwhelmed by the hum of passivity, of indifference, when absolutely nothing, neither outside stimulus nor internal spark of emotion, inspires us to do anything more than blankly stare down at the coffee in our cup?
"It is one ceaseless and untiring circumambulation. You walk like someone carrying invisible suitcases, like someone following his own shadow. A blind man, a sleepwalker. You proceed with a mechanical tread, neverendingly, to the point where you even forget that you are walking."
This passage provides us with an expanded understanding of what it means for a man to be asleep - mechanically plodding about devoid of awareness, a mindless repetition of going through the motions, the exact opposite of a creative literary artist touched by the muse. From what I glean from Georges Perec's biography, he had his gray, sluggish periods and certainly knew both ends of the spectrum from first-hand experience.
"Three-quarters of your body has taken refuge in your head; your heart has taken up residence in your eyebrow where it now feels quite at home, where it is beating like a living creature, albeit, perhaps, at the very most, a little too quickly."
Unfortunately, the three-quarters of the body taking refuge in the head back in 1967 has increased to nine-tenths today. Alienation from one's body has become a greater issue, even a monumental issue, with a huge chunk of the population relying on opioids, sleeping pills, adderall, prozac, blood pressure pills, the list goes on and on. Georges Perec's words here amount to a clear description of someone completely cut off from achieving what the ancient Greek philosophers termed ataraxia, that is, an ability to rest in our human embodiment (tranquil abiding) and take delight in simply being alive.
A Man Asleep is a modern classic written by a master of the craft. I've only touched on the surface and only in a handful of spots, at that. I urge you to pick up a copy and explore the depths.
French author Georges Perec, 1936-1982
January 2, 2018
"Mais ton refus est inutile. Ta neutralité ne veut rien dire. Ton inertie est aussi vaine que ta colère."
It is a strange species, indeed - humankind! The crazy methods we develop to cope with the fact that we exist. The things we do to tune out pain and awareness and fear. Georges Perec is a master in the analysis of the human psyche in hiding underneath the surface of indifferent things. In Les choses, he experimented with the meaning of our things to establish marks of identity, and in this short novel, he describes the opposite - a man who tries to escape from emotional stress by being completely, utterly indifferent to everything. He establishes patterns without attaching himself to them, he creates a modus vivendi that resembles sleepwalking. The goal is to reach inaccessibility through detachment.
The man walks through life as if he were humming Geldorf's Great Song Of Indifference, repeating the "I don't mind, I don't mind, na na na..." over and over:
"I don't mind if you go
I don't mind if you take it slow
I don't mind if you say yes or no
I don't mind at all
I don't care if you live or die
Couldn't care less if you laugh or cry
I don't mind if you crash or fly
I don't mind at all
I don't mind if you come or go
I don't mind if you say no
Couldn't care less baby let it flow
'Cause I don't care at all
Na na na, ..."
But does it work?
Of course not. A sleeping man will start dreaming, and sooner or later, his suppressed fears will emerge, and will shine through the cheerful song lyrics, until he accepts his fate:
"Tu n'es plus l'inaccessible, le limpide, le transparent. Tu as peur, tu attends."
So, the way I understand Perec, we better embrace our fears and passions and hopes, as we only live once and are in no condition to actually manage indifference until we die.
Cheers to life, recommended by une femme qui s'éveille!
It is a strange species, indeed - humankind! The crazy methods we develop to cope with the fact that we exist. The things we do to tune out pain and awareness and fear. Georges Perec is a master in the analysis of the human psyche in hiding underneath the surface of indifferent things. In Les choses, he experimented with the meaning of our things to establish marks of identity, and in this short novel, he describes the opposite - a man who tries to escape from emotional stress by being completely, utterly indifferent to everything. He establishes patterns without attaching himself to them, he creates a modus vivendi that resembles sleepwalking. The goal is to reach inaccessibility through detachment.
The man walks through life as if he were humming Geldorf's Great Song Of Indifference, repeating the "I don't mind, I don't mind, na na na..." over and over:
"I don't mind if you go
I don't mind if you take it slow
I don't mind if you say yes or no
I don't mind at all
I don't care if you live or die
Couldn't care less if you laugh or cry
I don't mind if you crash or fly
I don't mind at all
I don't mind if you come or go
I don't mind if you say no
Couldn't care less baby let it flow
'Cause I don't care at all
Na na na, ..."
But does it work?
Of course not. A sleeping man will start dreaming, and sooner or later, his suppressed fears will emerge, and will shine through the cheerful song lyrics, until he accepts his fate:
"Tu n'es plus l'inaccessible, le limpide, le transparent. Tu as peur, tu attends."
So, the way I understand Perec, we better embrace our fears and passions and hopes, as we only live once and are in no condition to actually manage indifference until we die.
Cheers to life, recommended by une femme qui s'éveille!
March 6, 2021
Είναι από τους συγγραφείς που διαβάζεις πρώτη φορά και εντυπωσιάζεσαι γιατί δεν έχεις διαβάσει ποτέ κάτι παρόμοιο, από τις ελάχιστες φορές. Όσον αφορά το περιεχόμενο, δε θα μπορούσα να το χαρακτηρίσω επαρκώς, αλλά το πιο κοντινό που φέρνει είναι ένα ψυχογράφημα.
April 7, 2021
Ο Orhan Pamuk ξεκινάει τη Καινούργια Ζωή γράφοντας "μια μέρα διάβασα ένα βιβλίο κι από τότε άλλαξε ολότελα η ζωή μου". Δεν ξέρω πότε και τι διάβασε ο ήρωας του Pamuk, σήμερα όμως θα σας μιλήσω για το βιβλίο που άλλαξε την δική μου ζωή.
Για τον Perec έχουμε μιλήσει ήδη δύο φορές στο παρελθόν και να είστε σίγουροι ότι θα μιλήσουμε και αρκετές ακόμα στο μέλλον. Είναι εκείνος ο τρελός γάλλος που, με μια γάτα στον ώμο, έφτιαχνε σταυρόλεξα για περιοδικά και παρέα με τους άλλους παράφρονες του συνδέσμου Oulipo εξέταζε τις δυναμικές του γλωσσικού κώδικα σε λογοτεχνικό επίπεδο. Είναι ο συγγραφέας του La Disparition, του μυθιστορήματος χωρίς το γράμμα -e-, του La Vie mode d’emploi (Ζωή, οδηγίες χρήσεως), του Un homme qui dort, καθώς και πολλών άλλων μυθιστορημάτων, λιστών και δοκιμίων. Διαβάζ��ντας την βιογραφία του το τελευταίο διάστημα κατάλαβα γιατί παρά το νεαρό της ηλικίας του ο Perec ήταν σε τόσο μεγάλο βαθμό πολυγράφος. Ο λόγος είναι ότι περίπου μέχρι τα πρώτα πέντε χρόνια της ζωής του είχε ελάχιστες μνήμες, γεγονός που μεγαλώνοντας τον θορύβησε και τον οδήγησε στην ψυχαναγκαστική συνήθεια να καταγράφει οποιοδήποτε γεγονός συνέβαινε στην ζωή του. Φυσικά όλο αυτό το υλικό δεν έμεινε ανεκμετάλλευτο, χρησιμοποιήθηκε σε αρκετά από τα έργα του και δη στα αυτοβιογραφικά.
Now you live in dread of silence. But are you not the most silent of all?
Από τον αυτοβιογραφικό χαρακτήρα δεν ξεφεύγει ούτε το Un homme qui dort. Το βιβλίο εκδόθηκε το 1967, αλλά ουσιαστικά αντικατοπτρίζει μια περίοδο έντονου υπαρξιακού πανικού που αντιμετώπιζε ο συγγραφέας τουλάχιστον μια δεκαετία νωρίτερα. Την Άνοιξη του 1956 ο Perec άρχισε να ανησυχεί έντονα για τις σπουδές και το μέλλον του. Όλη αυτή η πίεση οδήγησε σε μια από τις πολλές περιόδους κατάθλιψης που θα ακολουθούσαν στο μέλλον και στην δημιουργία δύο έργων με αυτή την θεματολογία.
Ένας φοιτητής, ο οποίος παραμένει ανώνυμος σε όλη την έκταση του έργου, παρατάει την σχολή και τους φίλους του, την μέχρι τώρα κοινωνική του ζωή, και βυθίζεται οικιοθελώς στην άβυσσο της απραξίας και της απομόνωσης. Περνάει τις μέρες μόνος του στο διαμέρισμα του ακούγοντας τους ήχους που κάνει ο από πάνω, ξαναδιαβάζοντας τα ίδια παλιά τεύχη της Le Monde και αδιαφορώντας παντελώς για το έξω κόσμο.
It is on a day like this one, a little later, a little earlier, that you discover, without surprise, that something is wrong, that, without mincing words, you don’t know how to live, that you will never know […] This is your life. This is yours. You can establish an exact inventory of your meagre fortune, the precise balance sheet of your first quarter-century. You are twenty-five years old, you have twenty-nine teeth, three shirts and eight socks, a few books you no longer read, a few records you no longer play. You do not want to remember anything else, be it your family or your studies, your friends and lovers, or your holidays and plans. You travelled and you brought nothing back from your travels. Here you sit, and you want only to wait, just to wait until there is nothing left to wait for: for night to fall and the passing hours to chime, for the days to slip away and the memories to fade.
Παρά την πρώτη εντύπωση της απλότητας της υπόθεσης, το Une homme qui dort πρόκειται για ένα κείμενο υψηλής αισθητικής και ευαισθησίας. Σκόπιμα ο Perec τοποθετεί τον πρωταγωνιστή του στα πλαίσια της ψυχικής κατάθλιψης και του ιδεολογικού μηδενισμού, υποδεικνύοντας την φυλάκιση και τον μαρασμό που υφίσταται ο άνθρωπος από την σύγχρονη κοινωνία. Μια φυλάκιση που είναι τόσο μεμονωμένη όσο και συλλογική. Η απουσία ονόματος του πρωταγωνιστή, δηλαδή ταυτότητας, βοηθάει τον αναγνώστη να ταυτιστεί απόλυτα με τον ακίνητο ήρωα και να βιώσει τον εσωτερικό του θρυμματισμό και την τελική του αφύπνιση.
Ένα ακόμα πολύ σημαντικό στοιχείο του βιβλίου, το οποίο δυστυχώς δεν γίνεται αντιληπτό στο αγγλικό μετάφρασμα, είναι η αφήγηση σε β’ ενικό πρόσωπο. Σε πολλά σημεία χαρίζει φιλικό και οικείο τόνο, ενώ σε άλλα φαντάζει εχθρική και κατηγορηματική. Ένα λάθος που έκανα είναι να πιστέψω πως όλο το κείμενο είναι ένας εσωτερικός μονόλογος, ότι δηλαδή πρόκειται για μια ιδιόμορφη αφήγηση του πρωταγωνιστή στον ίδιο του τον εαυτό. Η αλήθεια είναι πως μοιάζει αρκετά, αλλά είναι μακριά από αυτό που ήθελε να περάσει ο Perec. Απόδειξη της εν λόγω θέσης είναι ότι στην κινηματογραφική μεταφορά του Un homme qui dort ο αφηγητής είχε γυναικεία φωνή, για να μην υπάρχει η πιθανότητα σύγχυσης πρωταγωνιστή και αφηγητή.
What is worrying you, what is disturbing you, what is frightening you, but which now and then gives you a thrill, is not the suddenness of your metamorphosis, but precisely the opposite: the vague and heavy feeling that it isn’t a metamorphosis at all, that nothing has changed, that you’ve always been like this, even though you only now realize it fully: that thing, in the cracked mirror, is not your new face, it is just that the masks have slipped, the heat in your room has melted them, your torpor has soaked them off.
Το 1974, οχτώ χρόνια μετά την κυκλοφορία του βιβλίου, βγαίνει στις αίθουσες η κινηματογραφική του μεταφορά. Σκηνοθετημένη από τον Bernard Queysanne και τον Perec, ακολουθεί πιστά τα χνάρια του βιβλίου και προσθέτει κάποιες πινελιές αποσαφήνισης με κυριότερη όλων τον διαχωρισμό πρωταγωνιστή και αφηγητή, όπως επαναλάβαμε παραπάνω. Στον πρωταγωνιστικό ρόλο βρίσκεται ο Jacques Spiesser, ένας ηθοποιός που παραμένει σχεδόν σε όλες του τις δουλειές στην αφάνεια των δευτερευόντων ρόλων. Αν μπορούσα να παρομοιάσω την ταινία με κάτι θα ήταν ένα ασπρόμαυρο ποίημα και ακόμα και αν δεν διαβάσετε το βιβλίο, αξίζει σίγουρα να βρείτε και να δείτε την ταινία.
Όσοι έχετε διαβάσει το Ζωή, οδηγίες χρήσεως έχετε ήδη γνωρίσει τον πρωταγωνιστή του Un homme qui dort σε μια διαφορετική εκδοχή του. O Perec, γράφοντας χρόνια αργότερα το γνωστότερο μυθιστόρημά του, επαναφέρει τον αντι-ήρωα στο προσκή��ιο δίνοντάς του μάλιστα και όνομα. Στο 52ο κεφάλαιο του βιβλίου ο Gregoire Simpson, συνονόματος του Καφκικού πρωταγωνιστή της Μεταμόρφωσης Gregor Samsa, ξυπνάει μια μέρα και καταλαβαίνει την ματαιότητα της ζωής του.
It is on a day like this one, a little later, a little earlier, that everything starts again, that everything starts, that everything continues…
Η κριτικη αυτή γράφτηκε για το blog Style Rive Gauche τρία χρόνια πριν, όταν αυτό ήταν ακόμα ενεργό. Τόσο καιρό μετά δεν θα άλλαζα ούτε λέξη. Το Ένας άνθρωπος που κοιμάται κυκλοφορεί (ΕΠΙΤΕΛΟΥΣ) στα ελληνικά από τις εκδόσεις Ύψιλον σε μετάφραση του Αχιλλεα Κυριακίδη.
Για τον Perec έχουμε μιλήσει ήδη δύο φορές στο παρελθόν και να είστε σίγουροι ότι θα μιλήσουμε και αρκετές ακόμα στο μέλλον. Είναι εκείνος ο τρελός γάλλος που, με μια γάτα στον ώμο, έφτιαχνε σταυρόλεξα για περιοδικά και παρέα με τους άλλους παράφρονες του συνδέσμου Oulipo εξέταζε τις δυναμικές του γλωσσικού κώδικα σε λογοτεχνικό επίπεδο. Είναι ο συγγραφέας του La Disparition, του μυθιστορήματος χωρίς το γράμμα -e-, του La Vie mode d’emploi (Ζωή, οδηγίες χρήσεως), του Un homme qui dort, καθώς και πολλών άλλων μυθιστορημάτων, λιστών και δοκιμίων. Διαβάζ��ντας την βιογραφία του το τελευταίο διάστημα κατάλαβα γιατί παρά το νεαρό της ηλικίας του ο Perec ήταν σε τόσο μεγάλο βαθμό πολυγράφος. Ο λόγος είναι ότι περίπου μέχρι τα πρώτα πέντε χρόνια της ζωής του είχε ελάχιστες μνήμες, γεγονός που μεγαλώνοντας τον θορύβησε και τον οδήγησε στην ψυχαναγκαστική συνήθεια να καταγράφει οποιοδήποτε γεγονός συνέβαινε στην ζωή του. Φυσικά όλο αυτό το υλικό δεν έμεινε ανεκμετάλλευτο, χρησιμοποιήθηκε σε αρκετά από τα έργα του και δη στα αυτοβιογραφικά.
Now you live in dread of silence. But are you not the most silent of all?
Από τον αυτοβιογραφικό χαρακτήρα δεν ξεφεύγει ούτε το Un homme qui dort. Το βιβλίο εκδόθηκε το 1967, αλλά ουσιαστικά αντικατοπτρίζει μια περίοδο έντονου υπαρξιακού πανικού που αντιμετώπιζε ο συγγραφέας τουλάχιστον μια δεκαετία νωρίτερα. Την Άνοιξη του 1956 ο Perec άρχισε να ανησυχεί έντονα για τις σπουδές και το μέλλον του. Όλη αυτή η πίεση οδήγησε σε μια από τις πολλές περιόδους κατάθλιψης που θα ακολουθούσαν στο μέλλον και στην δημιουργία δύο έργων με αυτή την θεματολογία.
Ένας φοιτητής, ο οποίος παραμένει ανώνυμος σε όλη την έκταση του έργου, παρατάει την σχολή και τους φίλους του, την μέχρι τώρα κοινωνική του ζωή, και βυθίζεται οικιοθελώς στην άβυσσο της απραξίας και της απομόνωσης. Περνάει τις μέρες μόνος του στο διαμέρισμα του ακούγοντας τους ήχους που κάνει ο από πάνω, ξαναδιαβάζοντας τα ίδια παλιά τεύχη της Le Monde και αδιαφορώντας παντελώς για το έξω κόσμο.
It is on a day like this one, a little later, a little earlier, that you discover, without surprise, that something is wrong, that, without mincing words, you don’t know how to live, that you will never know […] This is your life. This is yours. You can establish an exact inventory of your meagre fortune, the precise balance sheet of your first quarter-century. You are twenty-five years old, you have twenty-nine teeth, three shirts and eight socks, a few books you no longer read, a few records you no longer play. You do not want to remember anything else, be it your family or your studies, your friends and lovers, or your holidays and plans. You travelled and you brought nothing back from your travels. Here you sit, and you want only to wait, just to wait until there is nothing left to wait for: for night to fall and the passing hours to chime, for the days to slip away and the memories to fade.
Παρά την πρώτη εντύπωση της απλότητας της υπόθεσης, το Une homme qui dort πρόκειται για ένα κείμενο υψηλής αισθητικής και ευαισθησίας. Σκόπιμα ο Perec τοποθετεί τον πρωταγωνιστή του στα πλαίσια της ψυχικής κατάθλιψης και του ιδεολογικού μηδενισμού, υποδεικνύοντας την φυλάκιση και τον μαρασμό που υφίσταται ο άνθρωπος από την σύγχρονη κοινωνία. Μια φυλάκιση που είναι τόσο μεμονωμένη όσο και συλλογική. Η απουσία ονόματος του πρωταγωνιστή, δηλαδή ταυτότητας, βοηθάει τον αναγνώστη να ταυτιστεί απόλυτα με τον ακίνητο ήρωα και να βιώσει τον εσωτερικό του θρυμματισμό και την τελική του αφύπνιση.
Ένα ακόμα πολύ σημαντικό στοιχείο του βιβλίου, το οποίο δυστυχώς δεν γίνεται αντιληπτό στο αγγλικό μετάφρασμα, είναι η αφήγηση σε β’ ενικό πρόσωπο. Σε πολλά σημεία χαρίζει φιλικό και οικείο τόνο, ενώ σε άλλα φαντάζει εχθρική και κατηγορηματική. Ένα λάθος που έκανα είναι να πιστέψω πως όλο το κείμενο είναι ένας εσωτερικός μονόλογος, ότι δηλαδή πρόκειται για μια ιδιόμορφη αφήγηση του πρωταγωνιστή στον ίδιο του τον εαυτό. Η αλήθεια είναι πως μοιάζει αρκετά, αλλά είναι μακριά από αυτό που ήθελε να περάσει ο Perec. Απόδειξη της εν λόγω θέσης είναι ότι στην κινηματογραφική μεταφορά του Un homme qui dort ο αφηγητής είχε γυναικεία φωνή, για να μην υπάρχει η πιθανότητα σύγχυσης πρωταγωνιστή και αφηγητή.
What is worrying you, what is disturbing you, what is frightening you, but which now and then gives you a thrill, is not the suddenness of your metamorphosis, but precisely the opposite: the vague and heavy feeling that it isn’t a metamorphosis at all, that nothing has changed, that you’ve always been like this, even though you only now realize it fully: that thing, in the cracked mirror, is not your new face, it is just that the masks have slipped, the heat in your room has melted them, your torpor has soaked them off.
Το 1974, οχτώ χρόνια μετά την κυκλοφορία του βιβλίου, βγαίνει στις αίθουσες η κινηματογραφική του μεταφορά. Σκηνοθετημένη από τον Bernard Queysanne και τον Perec, ακολουθεί πιστά τα χνάρια του βιβλίου και προσθέτει κάποιες πινελιές αποσαφήνισης με κυριότερη όλων τον διαχωρισμό πρωταγωνιστή και αφηγητή, όπως επαναλάβαμε παραπάνω. Στον πρωταγωνιστικό ρόλο βρίσκεται ο Jacques Spiesser, ένας ηθοποιός που παραμένει σχεδόν σε όλες του τις δουλειές στην αφάνεια των δευτερευόντων ρόλων. Αν μπορούσα να παρομοιάσω την ταινία με κάτι θα ήταν ένα ασπρόμαυρο ποίημα και ακόμα και αν δεν διαβάσετε το βιβλίο, αξίζει σίγουρα να βρείτε και να δείτε την ταινία.
Όσοι έχετε διαβάσει το Ζωή, οδηγίες χρήσεως έχετε ήδη γνωρίσει τον πρωταγωνιστή του Un homme qui dort σε μια διαφορετική εκδοχή του. O Perec, γράφοντας χρόνια αργότερα το γνωστότερο μυθιστόρημά του, επαναφέρει τον αντι-ήρωα στο προσκή��ιο δίνοντάς του μάλιστα και όνομα. Στο 52ο κεφάλαιο του βιβλίου ο Gregoire Simpson, συνονόματος του Καφκικού πρωταγωνιστή της Μεταμόρφωσης Gregor Samsa, ξυπνάει μια μέρα και καταλαβαίνει την ματαιότητα της ζωής του.
It is on a day like this one, a little later, a little earlier, that everything starts again, that everything starts, that everything continues…
Η κριτικη αυτή γράφτηκε για το blog Style Rive Gauche τρία χρόνια πριν, όταν αυτό ήταν ακόμα ενεργό. Τόσο καιρό μετά δεν θα άλλαζα ούτε λέξη. Το Ένας άνθρωπος που κοιμάται κυκλοφορεί (ΕΠΙΤΕΛΟΥΣ) στα ελληνικά από τις εκδόσεις Ύψιλον σε μετάφραση του Αχιλλεα Κυριακίδη.
June 18, 2023
لطفا بخوانید و از نبوغ یک دیوانه لذت ببرید
رمان روایت همان لحظهایست از ورود به نیهیلیسم که پس از سالها صداقت و مطالعه و تعمق در تفکر و ایمان راستین(بنگرید به نیچه و بحث مرگ خدا و دعوای او با مسیحیت) آن ایمان مهیب و شکناپذیر وارد جهان تردید میشود و همهچیز، مطلقا همهچیز از هم میپاشد. نیهیلیسم در طی سالها و با هم آمیختگی با جهان مدرن نشان داد اصل اول آن از همپاشیدگی ایمان و ارزش والا و اصل دوم ساخت و پردازش هزاران ارزش ثانویه است. رمان پس از آن امتحان انجام نشده که انگار پایان اعتقاد او به مسیر آموزشش است راوی پرسهزنیها و نگاههای او به موزهها، خیابانها و شهرهاست... نگاههایی نو که اینبار منجر به هیچ نقطهی اتکایی نمیشوند. و نگاهی بیندازیم به جملهی پایانی رمان، آنجایی که توی رمان که تمامی روایت در گفتگویی با اوست چشمانتظار پایان بارانیست(بیوقفهگی تولید ارزشهای نو) که هیچگاه پایان نخواهد یافت. پرک تنها با همین اثر، یا تنها با چیزها، یا تنها با کارگردانی این متن میتوانست در تاریخ بماند. احساس میکردم کسی به من حمله کرده است و مرا از جهان دروغین خودم به جهان راستینام برده است. خطابهی ژرژ پرک به تمامی ماست که در جهان شک در تمامی اعتقادها گرفتاریم
رمان روایت همان لحظهایست از ورود به نیهیلیسم که پس از سالها صداقت و مطالعه و تعمق در تفکر و ایمان راستین(بنگرید به نیچه و بحث مرگ خدا و دعوای او با مسیحیت) آن ایمان مهیب و شکناپذیر وارد جهان تردید میشود و همهچیز، مطلقا همهچیز از هم میپاشد. نیهیلیسم در طی سالها و با هم آمیختگی با جهان مدرن نشان داد اصل اول آن از همپاشیدگی ایمان و ارزش والا و اصل دوم ساخت و پردازش هزاران ارزش ثانویه است. رمان پس از آن امتحان انجام نشده که انگار پایان اعتقاد او به مسیر آموزشش است راوی پرسهزنیها و نگاههای او به موزهها، خیابانها و شهرهاست... نگاههایی نو که اینبار منجر به هیچ نقطهی اتکایی نمیشوند. و نگاهی بیندازیم به جملهی پایانی رمان، آنجایی که توی رمان که تمامی روایت در گفتگویی با اوست چشمانتظار پایان بارانیست(بیوقفهگی تولید ارزشهای نو) که هیچگاه پایان نخواهد یافت. پرک تنها با همین اثر، یا تنها با چیزها، یا تنها با کارگردانی این متن میتوانست در تاریخ بماند. احساس میکردم کسی به من حمله کرده است و مرا از جهان دروغین خودم به جهان راستینام برده است. خطابهی ژرژ پرک به تمامی ماست که در جهان شک در تمامی اعتقادها گرفتاریم
January 11, 2021
Είναι η πρώτη φορά που διαβάζω Περέκ. Τον αγοράζω συστηματικά τα τελευταία χρόνια όμως δεν είχε τύχει μέχρι τώρα να τον διαβάσω. Δεν τον γνώριζα ως συγγραφέα. Ο λόγος που θέλησα να τον γνωρίσω και άρχισα να τον αγοράζω ήταν το πάθος ενός νεαρού κοριτσιού όταν μιλούσε για τα γραφόμενα του. Το σέβομαι και το αγαπώ αυτό το πάθος να υπερασπίζεσαι με τέτοια φλόγα και ένταση ένα συγγραφέα. Ακόμα και αν εσύ δεν καταφέρεις να μοιραστείς το ίδιο συναίσθημα αποκλείεται να φύγεις άδειος από μια τέτοια αναγνωστική εμπειρία. Στη δική μου περίπτωση χτυπήσα διάνα. Ο Περέκ με το βιβλίο του « Ο άνθρωπος που κοιμάται» είναι ότι καλύτερο θα μπορούσα να διαβάσω εν μέσω καραντίνας. Εξηγούμαι για να μη λές μετά ότι δεν στο είπα και με κάνεις πλοκ ντιλιτ. Θα σου την μαυρίσει την ψυχούλα να τόσο δα, όσο πατάει η γάτα, αλλά μέσα του θα βρεις με γενναιότητα λόγου σπουδαίες αλήθεις πάνω σε θέματα που καλώς ή κακώς όσο μεγαλώνουμε, ��όσο μάλλον στις εποχές που ζούμε μας απασχολούν ολοένα και περισσότερο.
«Η επιμονή, η πρωτοβουλία, το επίτευγμα, ο θρίαμβος, όλα αυτά χαράζουν τον πάμφωτο δρόμο μιας πρότυπης ζωής. Τα σωτήρια ψεύδη που βαυκαλίζουν όλους όσοι τελματώνουν, βυθίζονται στο βούρκο, οι χαμένες ψευδαισθήσεις που ανέβαλαν, που άργησαν, που ακούμπησαν τη βαλίτσα τους στο πεζοδρόμιο και κάθισαν πάνω της για να σκουπίσουν το μέτωπο τους. Αλλά εσύ δεν έχεις πια ανάγκη από δικαιολογίες, μεταμέλειες, νοσταλγίες. Δεν απορρίπτεις τίποτα, δεν αρνείσαι τίποτα. Έχεις πάψει να προχωράς, αλλά εσύ έτσι και αλλιώς δεν προχωρούσες, δεν ξαναφεύγεις, έχεις φτάσει, δε βλέπεις κανένα λόγο να πας πιο μακριά: δε χρειάστηκε, σχεδόν δε χρειάστηκε παρά μια μέρα με τρομερή ζέστη, η άκαιρη συζυγία μ’ ένα κείμενο που ‘χες χάσει τον ειρμό του, ένα μπολ νεσκαφέ που ξαφνικά σου φάνηκε πικρός, μια ροζ πλαστική λεκάνη με μαυριδερό νερό, μόνο αυτά χρειάστηκαν για να σπάσει κάτι, ν’ αλλοιωθεί, να ξηλωθεί, και να έρθει στο άπλετο φως, αλλά το φως δεν είναι ποτέ άπλετο: δεν έχεις όρεξη να συνεχίσεις, δεν έχεις όρεξη ν’ αμυνθείς, μήτε να επιτεθείς».
Ο Περέκ λοιπόν τοποθετεί τον ήρωα του σε μια διαδικασία απομόνωσης από τα εγκόσμια. Τον οδηγεί μέσα από την μέθξοδο της υπνοβασίας στην απομόνωση, στην παραίτηση, την αμφισβήτηση της ύπαρξης. Στήνει ένα χαρακτήρα που θα πάει κόν��ρα απέναντι σε ένα κατεστημένο που θεωρεί αδιανόητο να μη μάχεσαι στη ζωή σου.
«Κάτι έσπαγε, κάτι έσπασε. Δε νιώθεις πια να σε συγκρατεί τίποτα: κάτι που νόμιζες, που νομίζεις ότι ως τότε σε ανακούφιζε, σου ζέσταινε την καρδιά, η αίσθηση της ύπαρξης σου, η εντύπωση ότι άνηκες, ότι ήσουν βουτηγμένος στον κόσμο, αρχίζει να σ’ εγκαταλείπει….. Δεν είσαι παρα μια θαμπή σκιά, ένας σκληρός πυρήνας αδιαφορίας, ένα ουδέτερο βλέμμα που αποφεύγει τα βλέμματα. Με χείλη βουβά, με μάτια σβηστά, θα μπορείς πια να βρίσκεις στις βιτρίνες, τις φευγαλέες αντανακλάσεις της επιβραδυμένης ζωής σου».
Ο ήρωας αποστασιοποιείται, αδιαφορεί. Σ’ έναν κόσμο που ξαφνικά έχει πάψει να τον απασχολεί, αρχίζει να κτίζει μια δική του κανονικότητα ενώ αναρωτιέται:
« Γιατί να προσποιείσαι ότι ζεις; Γιατί να συνεχίσεις; Δεν ξέρεις πια από τώρα όλα όσα πρόκειται να σου συμβούν; Δεν ήσουν ήδη όλα όσα έπρεπε να είσαι: ο άξιος γιος της μητέρας σου και του πατέρα σου, το γενναίο προσκοπάκι, ο καλός μαθητής που θα μπορούσε να τα χε πάει και καλύτερα. Λίγη προσπάθεια ακόμα και θα γίνεις ο αγαπητός συνάδελφος, ο καλός σύζυγος και πατέρας, καλός πολίτης… θα καπνίζεις την πίπα σου λέγοντας και ξαναλέγοντας ότι η ζωή είναι ωραία.
Όχι προτιμάς να είσαι το κομμάτι του παζλ που λείπει. Αποσύρεσαι εγκαίρως. Δε θ’ ακούσεις άλλες συμβουλές. Θα πάρεις το δρόμο σου, θα κοιτάζεις τα δέντρα, τον ουρανό, τις πέτρες, τον ουρανό, το ταβάνι, το κενό».
Σαν κάτι όμως να μην πηγαίνει καλά σε αυτή την προσπάθεια να γίνει πέτρα, να γίνει δέντρο. Ο χρόνος δε σταματάει, το ίδιο και η ζωή.
Είσαι μόνος, κι επειδή είσαι μόνος δεν πρέπει ποτέ να κοιτάζεις την ώρα, δεν πρέπει ποτέ να μετράς τα λεπτά.. Πρέπει να ξεχάσεις να ελπίζεις, να επιτυγχάνεις, να επιμένεις.Παράξενοι είμαστε τελικά οι άνθρωποι ναι; Είναι τρομερό πόσες τεχνικές άμυνας μπορούμε ν’ αναπτύξουμε για να σταθούμε απέναντι στους φόβους μας και να μειώσουμε τον πόνο. Ο Περέκ λοιπόν μέσα από μια λυρική αφήγηση σε δεύτερο ενικό πρόσωπο, περιγράφει με μαεστρία την διαρκή και σκληρή προσπάθεια ενός ανθρώπου να διαχειριστεί τους φόβους, το άγχος του χρησιμποιώντας την αδιαφορία έναντι αυτών ως βασικό όπλο. Αυτή η στρατηγική γίνεται ο λόγος ύπαρξης του.
Τα καταφέρνει τελικά; Είναι τόσο απλή και αποτελεσματική η μέθοδος της απόσπασης και της αδιαφορίας; Θα πετύχει το στόχο του; Λειτουργεί το πείραμα?
Τελικά αργά ή γρήγορα αυτή η πειθαρχία που επιβάλλεις στη ζωή σου αρχίζει και κλυδωνίζεται. Τίποτα δεν λειτουργεί.
«Δε διδάχθηκες τίποτα, παρά μόνο ότι η μοναξιά δε διδάσκει τίποτα, ότι η αδιαφορία δε διδάσκει τίποτα: ήταν μια αυταπάτη. Ήσουν μόνος, αυτό είναι όλο, κι ήθελες να προστατευτείς, ήθελες να κοπούν για πάντα οι γέφυρες σ’ εσένα και τον κόσμο. Αλλά εσύ είσαι τόσο αμελητέος και ο κόσμος είναι τόσο μεγάλη λέξη: το μόνο που έκανες ήταν να περιπλανιέσαι σε μια μεγαλούπολη. Η αδιαφορία είναι ανώφελη. Είτε θέλεις είτε δε θέλεις ποιος νοιάζεται. Η αρνητικότητα σου είναι ανώφελη. Η ουδετερότητα σου δε λέει τίποτα. Η αδράνεια σου είναι εξίσου μάταιη με την οργή σου. Νομίζεις ότι είσαι απλώς περαστικός, ακολουθείς τα πλήθη. Ωστόσο τίποτα δε συνέβη, κανένα θαύμα. Με κάθε μέρα που περνάει, η υπομονή σου εξαντλείται, αποκαλύπτεται η υποκρισία των γελοίων προσπαθειών σου. Θα χρειαζόταν να σταματήσει ο χρόνος αλλα κανείς δεν είναι τόσο δυνατός ώστε να τα βάλει με το χρόνο. Μπορεί να προσποιήθηκες ότι τον είχες ξεχάσει, μπορεί να τριγύριζες τη νύχτα και να κοιμόσουν τη μέρα. Ποτέ δεν τον ξεγάλασες τελείως…..
Ο χρόνος που όλα τα φροντίζει, εδωσε τη λύση ερήμην σου. Ο χρόνος, που γνωρίζει την απάντηση, συνέχισε να κυλάει. Μια μέρα σαν και τούτη, λίγο πιο αργά, λίγο πιο νωρίς, όλα ξαναρχίζουν, όλα αρχίζουν, όλα συνεχίζονται».
Αναγνωστική μέθεξη, λύτρωση, συμπόνοια, κατανόηση. Υποκλίνομαι.
December 7, 2019
Bundan önce okuduğum Perec kitaplarından çok farklı. Ne iniş çıkışlar, ne sözcük oyunları veya bulmacaları ne de heyecan dalgalanmaları var bu kitapta. Uyuyan, yiyen, içen, yürüyen, okuyan kısaca yaşayan, ancak hiç bir talepte bulunmayan, birşey yapmak istemeyen, tükenmiş 25 yaşında genç bir adam var sadece.
Yazar kendini anlatıyor adeta kendisiyle tek taraflı sohbet ediyor. Karamsar, zaman zaman sinir bozucu ve iç karartıcı. Uslup müthiş. Kitabın sonunda yayıncı notunda bunun otobiyografik öğeler taşıdığı kanaati olduğunu belirtiyor. Hiç şaşırmadım. Yaşamadan bu cümleler bu tanımlamalar bu ifadeler yazılamazdı bence de.
Eğer ruh durumunuz depressif yönde ise bu kitabı okumayı öteleyin, daha iyi bir ruh halinde okuyun derim. Kitabın adına “yaşadığını farzeden adam” daha çok uyuyor. Acı, tükenmişlik, umutsuzluk son bir cümlede nasıl umuda yöneliyor diye düşünmedim, çünkü bu Perec.
Yazar kendini anlatıyor adeta kendisiyle tek taraflı sohbet ediyor. Karamsar, zaman zaman sinir bozucu ve iç karartıcı. Uslup müthiş. Kitabın sonunda yayıncı notunda bunun otobiyografik öğeler taşıdığı kanaati olduğunu belirtiyor. Hiç şaşırmadım. Yaşamadan bu cümleler bu tanımlamalar bu ifadeler yazılamazdı bence de.
Eğer ruh durumunuz depressif yönde ise bu kitabı okumayı öteleyin, daha iyi bir ruh halinde okuyun derim. Kitabın adına “yaşadığını farzeden adam” daha çok uyuyor. Acı, tükenmişlik, umutsuzluk son bir cümlede nasıl umuda yöneliyor diye düşünmedim, çünkü bu Perec.
June 2, 2016
altı çizili satırlarla, paragraflarla dolu ikinci el bir baskısını okudum uyuyan adam'ın. sayfa kenarlarında yıldızlar, ünlemler vardı. okurken, bu kitabı okuyup böylesine etkilenen önceki okuru da düşündüm. muhtemelen yirmili yaşların başında, ikinci şahıs anlatımın gücüyle romanın kahramanıyla özdeşleşmiş, sonra hayatın tam da böyle, bu kitapta okuduğu gibi olduğunu görmüş, anlamış ve bundan buruk bir tat almış. sonra, ileriki yıllarında, otuzlarında mesela, yeniden okusa yine bu kadar etkilenebilir miydi diye düşündüm. uyuyan adam böyle bir kitap çünkü. romandan, belki edebiyattan farklı soruları olan bir anlatı. hatta kitabın sonunda "yayıncının notu" diye ayrıca bir açıklamaya gerek duyulan bir anlatı. perec için bir giriş ya da bir sonuç belki.
May 2, 2023
Il primo elemento che colpisce il lettore è l’uso della seconda persona singolare, un “tu” che accomuna chi legge al protagonista della storia, in una comunione di sensazioni, di visioni oniriche e preoniriche, che tutti abbiamo sperimentato, come chiudere stretti stretti gli occhi e vedere, sotto le palpebre abbassate, striscie di colore, luci, disegni che attirano la mente a un pensiero e poi arriva il sonno. Non sono tanto queste immagini ad avermi colpito –anzi, il dilungarsi di Perec su certe descrizioni mi ha poco interessato, ma conosciamo la sua mania di elencazione e catalogazione-, quanto l’improvviso black out che colpisce l’anonimo studente parigino protagonista del romanzo. Un black out di connessione con il mondo, la rottura di ogni contatto e relazione sociale che lo rende “un duro nocciolo d’indifferenza”, “uno sguardo neutro che fugge agli altrui sguardi”.
“Aspettare fino a quando non ci sia più nulla da aspettare”: comincia così il diario in cui Perec racconta quello che accade al giovane studente. E così, novello Bartleby ( mi è venuto in mente il personaggio di Melville, che Perec nel finale ricorda espressamente), egli si chiude in un rifiuto, che è corazza dagli attacchi della vita, di volontà: l’unico suo desiderio diventa non volere più nulla, vagare, lasciarsi portare dalla gente, entrare ed uscire dai cinema, dai bar e dai ristoranti senza vedere nessuno, camminare lungo i canali di scolo delle acque piovane, rasente ai muri, sedersi per ore su una panca nella sua stanzetta con un libro accanto ascoltando i rumori del mondo che continua a girare e guardando un catino rosa in cui sono immersi i calzini da lavare. Un nulla che, oltre ad essere difesa, è un silenzioso grido di ribellione alle convenzioni sociali, al dover essere e al dover rispettare gli obblighi.
“Davanti a te, nel corso del tempo, una vita immobile, senza crisi e senza disordine: nessuna asperità e nessuno squilibrio…”, questo è l’obiettivo.
Il risultato?
“Hai paura e aspetti. Aspetti , in Place Clichy, che la pioggia cessi di cadere”.
“Aspettare fino a quando non ci sia più nulla da aspettare”: comincia così il diario in cui Perec racconta quello che accade al giovane studente. E così, novello Bartleby ( mi è venuto in mente il personaggio di Melville, che Perec nel finale ricorda espressamente), egli si chiude in un rifiuto, che è corazza dagli attacchi della vita, di volontà: l’unico suo desiderio diventa non volere più nulla, vagare, lasciarsi portare dalla gente, entrare ed uscire dai cinema, dai bar e dai ristoranti senza vedere nessuno, camminare lungo i canali di scolo delle acque piovane, rasente ai muri, sedersi per ore su una panca nella sua stanzetta con un libro accanto ascoltando i rumori del mondo che continua a girare e guardando un catino rosa in cui sono immersi i calzini da lavare. Un nulla che, oltre ad essere difesa, è un silenzioso grido di ribellione alle convenzioni sociali, al dover essere e al dover rispettare gli obblighi.
“Davanti a te, nel corso del tempo, una vita immobile, senza crisi e senza disordine: nessuna asperità e nessuno squilibrio…”, questo è l’obiettivo.
Il risultato?
“Hai paura e aspetti. Aspetti , in Place Clichy, che la pioggia cessi di cadere”.
June 26, 2021
Ένας νεαρός αποφασίζει να περάσει την ζωή του ως «υπνοβάτης», αποκομμένος σταδιακά από εγκόσμιες εμπειρίες και πασχίζοντας να απελευθερωθεί από τα όποια συναισθήματα. Θα τα καταφέρει; Πως καταφέρνεις να κόψεις κάθε δεσμό με την ζωή σου; Η απάντηση δεν είναι εύκολη και καλύτερα να σας την δώσει ο συγγραφέας. Δεύτερη γνωριμία με Περεκ, σαφώς καλύτερη από την πρώτη με την Ιδιωτική Πινακοθήκη. Ιδιαίτερος συγγραφέας, ιδιαίτερο βιβλίο για μια μορφή επανάστασης, αντίδρασης απέναντι στον κόσμο και τους κανόνες του. Μπορεί να σας φανεί ήσυχη, εσωτερική αλλά αυτές είναι οι πιο επικίνδυνες.
July 13, 2021
El estilo de George Perec de por sí me resulta fascinante, y En un hombre que duerme a sus frases cortas y sus características enumeraciones que le dan a la narración una musicalidad exquisita y un muy buen ritmo, hay que sumarle la inmejorable elección de la poco común segunda persona como voz narrativa, que le da mucha fuerza a la narración.
El libro es de corte existencialista, donde el único personaje de la historia es un joven de veinticinco años que repentinamente, una mañana decide no ir a rendir su examen de sociología y abandona la facultad. Ya solo se queda en su pequeña buhardilla sin hacer nada mas que dormir, leer el diario, o jugar al solitario. Ocasionalmente sale a deambular por las calles de Paris sin rumbo fijo, entra a algún cine, visita un museo, recorre mercados, pero ya no va a relacionarse con nadie. Todo lo que hay es una especie de hastío que lo lleva a apartarse totalmente del mundo recluyéndose en sí mismo. Este personaje podría parecerse en una lectura rápida a Bartleby, el escribiente de Mellvile, pero Perec le da un cierre que me parece brillante y se asegura de dejar bien claro que no, que nada tiene que ver su personaje con aquel escribiente neoyorquino.
Es una novela muy corta que a mi me pareció excelente, pero no me parece una novela fácil de recomendar porque alguien podría decir- y quizás no sin razón- que es una novela donde no pasa nada, y podría resultarle aburrida.
“Eres un holgazán, un sonámbulo, una ostra. Las definiciones varían según las horas, según los días, pero el sentido permanece más o menos claro: te sientes poco hecho para vivir, para actuar, para hacer cosas; no quieres más que durar, no quieres más que la espera y el olvido.”
“Frente al mundo, el indiferente no es ni ignorante ni hostil. Tu propósito no es redescubrir las saludables alegrías del analfabetismo, sino, al leer, no conceder ningún privilegio a tus lecturas. Tu propósito no es ir desnudo por ahí sino estar vestido sin que eso implique necesariamente afectación o abandono; tu propósito no es dejarte morir de hambre, sino solamente alimentarte.”
El libro es de corte existencialista, donde el único personaje de la historia es un joven de veinticinco años que repentinamente, una mañana decide no ir a rendir su examen de sociología y abandona la facultad. Ya solo se queda en su pequeña buhardilla sin hacer nada mas que dormir, leer el diario, o jugar al solitario. Ocasionalmente sale a deambular por las calles de Paris sin rumbo fijo, entra a algún cine, visita un museo, recorre mercados, pero ya no va a relacionarse con nadie. Todo lo que hay es una especie de hastío que lo lleva a apartarse totalmente del mundo recluyéndose en sí mismo. Este personaje podría parecerse en una lectura rápida a Bartleby, el escribiente de Mellvile, pero Perec le da un cierre que me parece brillante y se asegura de dejar bien claro que no, que nada tiene que ver su personaje con aquel escribiente neoyorquino.
Es una novela muy corta que a mi me pareció excelente, pero no me parece una novela fácil de recomendar porque alguien podría decir- y quizás no sin razón- que es una novela donde no pasa nada, y podría resultarle aburrida.
“Eres un holgazán, un sonámbulo, una ostra. Las definiciones varían según las horas, según los días, pero el sentido permanece más o menos claro: te sientes poco hecho para vivir, para actuar, para hacer cosas; no quieres más que durar, no quieres más que la espera y el olvido.”
“Frente al mundo, el indiferente no es ni ignorante ni hostil. Tu propósito no es redescubrir las saludables alegrías del analfabetismo, sino, al leer, no conceder ningún privilegio a tus lecturas. Tu propósito no es ir desnudo por ahí sino estar vestido sin que eso implique necesariamente afectación o abandono; tu propósito no es dejarte morir de hambre, sino solamente alimentarte.”
June 12, 2017
Düşünen, canlı bir roman 'Uyuyan Adam'. Gerçi roman demek ne kadar doğru olur ondan da emin değilim. Roman tartışmalarını sürdürmüş bazı taraflarca, roman olarak kabul edilmeyeceğine eminim sadece. Biçimsel darbelerle inşa ettiği romanlarıyla pek dikkat çekmiş Perec'in bu debut eserinde de temelde Deleuzvari bir sonuç var. Roman sürekli olarak devinim içerisinde ve anlattığı her şey bir noktada bambaşka bir başlangıç noktasının zemini hazırlıyor. Sorular sorular ve hep cevapsız.
En kaba tabiriyle varoluş sıkınsalına ya da varolamayış sıkınsalına yakanlanmış modern bireye odaklanan roman, anlatıcının sayıklamalarından meydana geliyor. Yer yer Pessoa tadı alırken, yazarın seçmiş olduğu küçük oda metaforu akla edebiyat tarihinden bambaşka karakterleri getiriyor. Dönüşüm'ün Gregor Samsa'ından, Alıklar Birliği'nin İgnatius'una; Osamu Dazai'nin kendi yansıması karakterlerinden, Oblomov'a uzanan karakterler aklı meşgul edip duruyor.
Nereye koyuyorum emin değilim ama... Belki daha genç ve hayattan beklentilerimin çok daha belirsiz ya da doyurulamaz, imkansız olduğu zamanlarda okusaydım daha çok etkilenebilirdim. Fakat o zamanlarda okumamış olduğum için de mutluyum. Zira insanı dibe çeken, moralini bozma konusunda oldukça yetenekli, iddialı cümleleri barındırıyor kitap.
Bu kadar kayıtsız, umarsız ve vazgeçmiş bir yerden dünyaya baktığım bir sıra, tekrar elime alacağım ve üzerine daha ayrıntılı düşüneceğim bir kitap olarak rafıma kaldırıyorum şimdilik.
Yaz gelmişken, günün serin saatlerinde okumanızı tavsiye ederim. Zamanınızı güzelleştirmek değil, biraz olumsuzlaştırmak adına çok yardımcı olacaktır. Her şeye rağmen edebiyatın güzelliği ve derinliği insanı her türlü yakalıyor. Sıradanlığın sıradışılığı...
7/10
En kaba tabiriyle varoluş sıkınsalına ya da varolamayış sıkınsalına yakanlanmış modern bireye odaklanan roman, anlatıcının sayıklamalarından meydana geliyor. Yer yer Pessoa tadı alırken, yazarın seçmiş olduğu küçük oda metaforu akla edebiyat tarihinden bambaşka karakterleri getiriyor. Dönüşüm'ün Gregor Samsa'ından, Alıklar Birliği'nin İgnatius'una; Osamu Dazai'nin kendi yansıması karakterlerinden, Oblomov'a uzanan karakterler aklı meşgul edip duruyor.
Nereye koyuyorum emin değilim ama... Belki daha genç ve hayattan beklentilerimin çok daha belirsiz ya da doyurulamaz, imkansız olduğu zamanlarda okusaydım daha çok etkilenebilirdim. Fakat o zamanlarda okumamış olduğum için de mutluyum. Zira insanı dibe çeken, moralini bozma konusunda oldukça yetenekli, iddialı cümleleri barındırıyor kitap.
Bu kadar kayıtsız, umarsız ve vazgeçmiş bir yerden dünyaya baktığım bir sıra, tekrar elime alacağım ve üzerine daha ayrıntılı düşüneceğim bir kitap olarak rafıma kaldırıyorum şimdilik.
Yaz gelmişken, günün serin saatlerinde okumanızı tavsiye ederim. Zamanınızı güzelleştirmek değil, biraz olumsuzlaştırmak adına çok yardımcı olacaktır. Her şeye rağmen edebiyatın güzelliği ve derinliği insanı her türlü yakalıyor. Sıradanlığın sıradışılığı...
7/10
July 1, 2020
Sanat ilgisi (şu çok iyi), içmek, müzik dinlemek, şarkı söylemek, okumak, yazmak (kayboluş). İnanç, intihara teşebbüs (başarısızlık), aşk (sana göre), seks (yapışık ikiz), lezzet düşkünlüğü, kavga arayışı, politika (cinayetler), para kazanmak, öğrenmek, arkadaşlık (rekabet). Yardımseverlik, merak, tahmin (yanılmak), yolculuk, aile bağları, hayvan sevgisi (sığınak), hayranlık, şehir fanatizmi, moda, bilim, gelecek tasarımı, sağlık kontrolleri (korku), tedavi (yalanlarla dolu gerçekler), doğaya özlem…
Fayanstaki doku karmaşasından (biz başlatmadık ama yayabiliriz) bir yüz oluşturalım. Bu yüz, gelmiş geçmiş tüm şirin gülücüklere sahip olsun. Otomatik yalnızlık adımları, bir nehir çağıltısı ve köprü endişesi (karşı tarafta ne var?) ekleyelim. Bakalım bunlar bizi herhangi biri yapabilecek mi? Sanmıyorum. O kadar önemli biri olmak hiç kolay değil çünkü (hiç kolay değil).
Fayanstaki doku karmaşasından (biz başlatmadık ama yayabiliriz) bir yüz oluşturalım. Bu yüz, gelmiş geçmiş tüm şirin gülücüklere sahip olsun. Otomatik yalnızlık adımları, bir nehir çağıltısı ve köprü endişesi (karşı tarafta ne var?) ekleyelim. Bakalım bunlar bizi herhangi biri yapabilecek mi? Sanmıyorum. O kadar önemli biri olmak hiç kolay değil çünkü (hiç kolay değil).
May 26, 2020
A Man Asleep continues the narrative experiments begun in Portrait of a Man, being written in the second person singular and present tense. In so doing, Perec hoped to make the reader an active participant in the reading experience, just as Calvino would later do in If on a Winter’s Night.
“You” are quite clearly a student since you are first seen sitting on your bed in your tiny Parisian garret, reading Eighteen Lectures on Industrial Society. Who else could possibly wish to do that? Your first significant act is to stay in bed instead of sitting an exam. And it’s all downhill from there. You have fallen into an irreversible torpor. How horribly easy it would be just to give up the struggle. Which of us hasn’t experienced this temptation, at one time or another? The protagonist spends his days looking at cracks in the ceiling, the indecipherable flightpaths of flies. The days merge into one amid a palette of repeated motifs – the cracked mirror, the narrow bed, the pink plastic bowl containing six socks, the untouched cigarette smoking in its ashtray, the bitter, lukewarm Nescafe in its bowl… By turns, he becomes a listless, nocturnal flaneur, an insomniac, a diurnal sleeper, a daytime wanderer.
Perec was an enormously industrious individual. And yet, it seems this novella was autobiographical in origin, recalling a slough or sloth that Perec fell into in the 1950s. What an appalling place to have visited, the café where everything tastes of cardboard. It’s what might happen to any one of us - existentially, accepting the meaningless of all action and activity, embracing inertia. The student is a tragic figure, then. He is a cousin twice removed of Rodion Raskolnikov, who likewise, one fine day, for no apparent reason, decides to sabotage his own life and prospects. He ticks life’s opt-out box. You prefer to be the missing piece of the puzzle. We witness/experience his mental and spiritual disintegration. There but for the grace… According to David Bellos, Perec’s biographer, having completed Things, the writer stated that he wished to rewrite Melville’s Bartleby, though not “like Borges’s Pierre Menard”. And that seems to be precisely what he does here, by way of masking his autofiction (he even précises the story at the end of his penultimate chapter). Bartleby will make his reappearance, of course, as a vital component of Perec’s character, Bartlebooth.
For anyone familiar with Perec’s masterwork, Life a User’s Manual, it becomes clear early on that the protagonist here is the prototype for Gregoire Simpson, the student in the latter work who falls into a similar state of inaction and ennui. Despite their differing experiments with form and genre, it’s essential that we view each of Perec’s works within the context of his oeuvre if we are to reach some understanding of how the pieces fall into place. What is the relationship, then, between Simpson, our unnamed student, Bartleby and Bartlebooth? Why does Perec return to the man asleep and his troubles, to this missing piece from the puzzle? Is it out of fear of their debilitating reoccurrence?
Behind the dark philosophy of depression and despair, the Perecquian wit still lurks:
If only membership of the human race were not accompanied by this insufferable din, if only these few pathetic steps taken into the animal kingdom did not have to be bought at the cost of this perpetual, nauseous dyspepsia of words, projects, great departures! But it is too high a price to pay for opposable thumbs, an erect stature, the incomplete rotation of the head on the shoulders…
Perec cannot help but make something perfect and poetic out of the desolation and pointlessness:
You sit at the long wooden table of a grocery store-cum-bar where you are the only customer. You are served a cup of Bovril or insipid coffee. Dozens of flies blacken the fly-paper that still hangs in a spiral from the enamelled lampshade. An uninterested cat is warming itself by the cast-iron stove. You study the shelves of tins, the packs of washing-powder, the aprons, the exercise books, the already out-of-date newspapers, the candy-pink postcards on which chubby soldiers give voice to the elevated sentiments inspired by some blonde sweetheart, the bus timetables, the racing results, the results of the Sunday football matches.
Was boredom ever expressed with greater beauty? This occurs in an Orwellian “Golden Country”, a brief escape from the bedsit to which the protagonist is bound to return.
Perec observes the world in exhaustive but exquisite detail, a technique that has already become typically “Perecquian” in this, his second published work. He provides us with the minutiae of all those things the depressed narrator does not see. Among them are The faded cards displayed in a typesetter’s window: Dr Raphael Crubellier, Stomatologist… Monsieur and Madame Serge Valène, 11, Rue Lagarde… Now those are names we shall encounter again. And then there’s this beautiful passage, portraying the protagonist’s imago:
On a bench close by, an old man stares into space for hours on end; he is mummified, perfectly still with his heels together and his chin leaning on the knob of the walking-stick that he grips tightly with both hands. You marvel at him. You try to discover his secret, his weakness. But he appears to have no weak point. He must be as deaf as a post, half-blind and verging on the paralytic. But he doesn’t even dribble, or move his lips, he hardly even blinks. The sun describes an arc about him: perhaps his vigilance consists solely in following its shadow; he must have markers placed long in advance; his madness, if he is mad, consists in believing that he is a sundial.
There’s a sting in the tail. Having willed his disappearance, his disintegration, the protagonist dreads its approach, seeks to hold it at bay. Having become a man alone, he craves signs of recognition to confirm his continued existence. Now he turns to another the old man, the one in the neighbouring attic room whose life he imagines, seek to retain his purchase on the world. Bellos says that Perec produced at least three drafts of the novella and that they ended differently. At least one has a fairytale ending. No spoilers here, then, as to which denouement made the final cut…
And A Man Asleep is a collage, Perec stated, like a dance track built from samples of other artists’ work. It contains sentences from Kafka and Melville among others… apparently. If so, it’s impossible for this reader to spot. As with his later works, then, the unseen mechanism silently generates the work of art that the reader consumes.
In A Man Asleep we find Perec already in total command of his writing. His craft has come a long way in the few short years since he wrote Portrait of a Man. The novella wasn’t well received in France at the time. And it had to wait until 1990 to be translated into English, where it is still relatively unknown, needless to say. Andrew Leak, an emeritus professor at UCL, made a fine job of it too. David Bellos, Gilbert Adair, Ian Monk… Perec gets the translators he deserves, heureusement. Essential reading.
Thanks to my friend Glenn Russell for inspiring me to read again this magnificent book.
“You” are quite clearly a student since you are first seen sitting on your bed in your tiny Parisian garret, reading Eighteen Lectures on Industrial Society. Who else could possibly wish to do that? Your first significant act is to stay in bed instead of sitting an exam. And it’s all downhill from there. You have fallen into an irreversible torpor. How horribly easy it would be just to give up the struggle. Which of us hasn’t experienced this temptation, at one time or another? The protagonist spends his days looking at cracks in the ceiling, the indecipherable flightpaths of flies. The days merge into one amid a palette of repeated motifs – the cracked mirror, the narrow bed, the pink plastic bowl containing six socks, the untouched cigarette smoking in its ashtray, the bitter, lukewarm Nescafe in its bowl… By turns, he becomes a listless, nocturnal flaneur, an insomniac, a diurnal sleeper, a daytime wanderer.
Perec was an enormously industrious individual. And yet, it seems this novella was autobiographical in origin, recalling a slough or sloth that Perec fell into in the 1950s. What an appalling place to have visited, the café where everything tastes of cardboard. It’s what might happen to any one of us - existentially, accepting the meaningless of all action and activity, embracing inertia. The student is a tragic figure, then. He is a cousin twice removed of Rodion Raskolnikov, who likewise, one fine day, for no apparent reason, decides to sabotage his own life and prospects. He ticks life’s opt-out box. You prefer to be the missing piece of the puzzle. We witness/experience his mental and spiritual disintegration. There but for the grace… According to David Bellos, Perec’s biographer, having completed Things, the writer stated that he wished to rewrite Melville’s Bartleby, though not “like Borges’s Pierre Menard”. And that seems to be precisely what he does here, by way of masking his autofiction (he even précises the story at the end of his penultimate chapter). Bartleby will make his reappearance, of course, as a vital component of Perec’s character, Bartlebooth.
For anyone familiar with Perec’s masterwork, Life a User’s Manual, it becomes clear early on that the protagonist here is the prototype for Gregoire Simpson, the student in the latter work who falls into a similar state of inaction and ennui. Despite their differing experiments with form and genre, it’s essential that we view each of Perec’s works within the context of his oeuvre if we are to reach some understanding of how the pieces fall into place. What is the relationship, then, between Simpson, our unnamed student, Bartleby and Bartlebooth? Why does Perec return to the man asleep and his troubles, to this missing piece from the puzzle? Is it out of fear of their debilitating reoccurrence?
Behind the dark philosophy of depression and despair, the Perecquian wit still lurks:
If only membership of the human race were not accompanied by this insufferable din, if only these few pathetic steps taken into the animal kingdom did not have to be bought at the cost of this perpetual, nauseous dyspepsia of words, projects, great departures! But it is too high a price to pay for opposable thumbs, an erect stature, the incomplete rotation of the head on the shoulders…
Perec cannot help but make something perfect and poetic out of the desolation and pointlessness:
You sit at the long wooden table of a grocery store-cum-bar where you are the only customer. You are served a cup of Bovril or insipid coffee. Dozens of flies blacken the fly-paper that still hangs in a spiral from the enamelled lampshade. An uninterested cat is warming itself by the cast-iron stove. You study the shelves of tins, the packs of washing-powder, the aprons, the exercise books, the already out-of-date newspapers, the candy-pink postcards on which chubby soldiers give voice to the elevated sentiments inspired by some blonde sweetheart, the bus timetables, the racing results, the results of the Sunday football matches.
Was boredom ever expressed with greater beauty? This occurs in an Orwellian “Golden Country”, a brief escape from the bedsit to which the protagonist is bound to return.
Perec observes the world in exhaustive but exquisite detail, a technique that has already become typically “Perecquian” in this, his second published work. He provides us with the minutiae of all those things the depressed narrator does not see. Among them are The faded cards displayed in a typesetter’s window: Dr Raphael Crubellier, Stomatologist… Monsieur and Madame Serge Valène, 11, Rue Lagarde… Now those are names we shall encounter again. And then there’s this beautiful passage, portraying the protagonist’s imago:
On a bench close by, an old man stares into space for hours on end; he is mummified, perfectly still with his heels together and his chin leaning on the knob of the walking-stick that he grips tightly with both hands. You marvel at him. You try to discover his secret, his weakness. But he appears to have no weak point. He must be as deaf as a post, half-blind and verging on the paralytic. But he doesn’t even dribble, or move his lips, he hardly even blinks. The sun describes an arc about him: perhaps his vigilance consists solely in following its shadow; he must have markers placed long in advance; his madness, if he is mad, consists in believing that he is a sundial.
There’s a sting in the tail. Having willed his disappearance, his disintegration, the protagonist dreads its approach, seeks to hold it at bay. Having become a man alone, he craves signs of recognition to confirm his continued existence. Now he turns to another the old man, the one in the neighbouring attic room whose life he imagines, seek to retain his purchase on the world. Bellos says that Perec produced at least three drafts of the novella and that they ended differently. At least one has a fairytale ending. No spoilers here, then, as to which denouement made the final cut…
And A Man Asleep is a collage, Perec stated, like a dance track built from samples of other artists’ work. It contains sentences from Kafka and Melville among others… apparently. If so, it’s impossible for this reader to spot. As with his later works, then, the unseen mechanism silently generates the work of art that the reader consumes.
In A Man Asleep we find Perec already in total command of his writing. His craft has come a long way in the few short years since he wrote Portrait of a Man. The novella wasn’t well received in France at the time. And it had to wait until 1990 to be translated into English, where it is still relatively unknown, needless to say. Andrew Leak, an emeritus professor at UCL, made a fine job of it too. David Bellos, Gilbert Adair, Ian Monk… Perec gets the translators he deserves, heureusement. Essential reading.
Thanks to my friend Glenn Russell for inspiring me to read again this magnificent book.
October 17, 2017
Now, your existence is boundless. Each day is made up of silence and noise, of light and blackness, layers, expectations, shivers. It is just a question of getting lost once again, forever, more each time, of ceaseless wandering, of finding sleep, a certain physical calm: abandon, lassitude, drifting-off. You slide, you let yourself slip and go under: searching for emptiness, running from it. Walk, stop, sit down, take a table, lean on it, stretch out on your bed.Το έργο γράφεται πριν την επαφή και σύνδεση του Georges Perec με την ομάδα OuLiPo κι αυτό είναι κατάφωρο στον τρόπο που δομεί το Un homme qui dort, στο γεγονός πως υπακούει στις γλωσσικές και αφηγηματικές δεσμεύσεις, πως συμμορφώνεται στην απουσία λογοπαιγνίων και γλωσσικών ασκήσεων. Ο Perec ακολουθεί εδώ μια αυτοβιογραφική στρατηγική, τη μυθολόγηση του προσωπικού, απεικονίζοντας τη μελαγχολία, το γνήσιο spleen, την αναίτια παραίτηση κι αποστασιοποίηση από τον υπόλοιπο κόσμο, ως ακραία έκφανση μιας αυτοκαταστροφικής μανίας. Η ροπή προς την απόγνωση και το μηδενισμό γίνεται πρόδηλη στην τελική αφύπνιση που δε συμβαίνει ουσιαστικά.
But the game is over, the great orgy, the spurious exaltation of a life in limbo. The world has not stirred and you have not changed. Indifference has not made you any different.Ο Perec οδηγεί τον ήρωά του ένα βήμα πριν την έξοδο από τον ύπνο της παραίτησης, εμμένοντας σε μια λογοτεχνική κι ηθική ασάφεια. Το κείμενο είναι μια εξουθενωτική εξερεύνηση του αισθήματος της αδιαφορίας και της αμφισβήτησης της αξίας του υπάρχειν, γι’ αυτό το λόγο η πλοκή είναι σχηματική κι η έμφαση δίνεται στο συναίσθημα, στην επαναληπτικότητα ως νησίδα λήθης. Η απάρνηση της ύπαρξης κι η ιδέα πως τα πάντα γύρω ξενίζουν, πως η συλλογική καθημερινότητα είναι ασήμαντη, δίνεται με μια ποιητικότητα, ενώ το κλίμα οικειότητας που δημιουργείται μέσω της δραματικότητας του δεύτερου ενικού προσώπου καθιστά συμμέτοχο έστω και ψυχολογικά τον αναγνώστη.
Πράγματι, με τις πρώτες ακόμη φράσεις του βιβλίου η περιέργεια του αναγνώστη εξάπτεται αφενός κι αφετέρου επιτρέπεται μια σχέση σύγχυσης έως και ταύτισης του πρωταγωνιστή και του αναγνώστη, αφού το δεύτερο ενικό ως επικοινωνιακός δίαυλος υποβάλλει μια επιθυμία σύνδεσης και συνενοχή��.
As soon as you close your eyes, the adventure of sleep begins. The familiar half-light of the bedroom, a dark volume broken by details, where your memory can easily identify the paths your eyes have followed a thousand times[…]
Ο πρωταγωνιστής, τέλος, παραμένει ανώνυμος, γεγονός που ευνοεί τη σύγχυση του αναγνώστη, ο οποίος διερωτάται για το αν είναι εξίσου παθητικός, με τους ρόλους να συμπίπτουν, με τις αντιδράσεις να είναι συγκεχυμένες. Από τη μια η καφκικού γκροτέσκου εικόνα του ατόμου στα 20 μοιάζει τραγική και παραμορφωμένη, από την άλλη το δεύτερο ενικό οδηγεί τον αναγνώστη στην εκδήλωση συμπάθειας αλλά και προσωπικής μέθεξης.
Your past, your present and your future merge into one: they are now just the heaviness of your limbs, your nagging migraine, your lassitude, the heat, the bitterness of the lukewarm Nescafé.
October 29, 2020
"Dünyanın karşısında kayıtsız kişi ne cahildir ne de düşman.
Dibe vurmak hiçbir anlam taşımaz. Kayıtsızlık bir işe yaramaz.”
Bir varlık olarak insan olmanın manifestosu gibiydi. Kısa, vurucu. Üçüncü Perec okumam. Kurgu, üslup farklı ama derdi aynı metinler Perec’in metinleri. Var olarak yok olmak. Ailesini 2. Dünya savaşında kaybetmiş yazarın; kaybolmuş çocukluğunun, gençliğinin ağıdı olarak da okunabilir ya da tam tersi tuzu kuru bir burjuvanın bireysel varoluş hezeyanları olarak da.. İçinde gülümseten selamlar da var bolca. Katip Bartley’den Moby Dick’e, Bulantı’nın Roquentin’inden, Thomas Mann’ın Leverkühn’üne.. Bir çırpıda okunan etkileyici bir Perec eseri.
Dibe vurmak hiçbir anlam taşımaz. Kayıtsızlık bir işe yaramaz.”
Bir varlık olarak insan olmanın manifestosu gibiydi. Kısa, vurucu. Üçüncü Perec okumam. Kurgu, üslup farklı ama derdi aynı metinler Perec’in metinleri. Var olarak yok olmak. Ailesini 2. Dünya savaşında kaybetmiş yazarın; kaybolmuş çocukluğunun, gençliğinin ağıdı olarak da okunabilir ya da tam tersi tuzu kuru bir burjuvanın bireysel varoluş hezeyanları olarak da.. İçinde gülümseten selamlar da var bolca. Katip Bartley’den Moby Dick’e, Bulantı’nın Roquentin’inden, Thomas Mann’ın Leverkühn’üne.. Bir çırpıda okunan etkileyici bir Perec eseri.
September 25, 2019
"ÖLMEDİN, daha aklı başında biri de olmadın."
İncecik ama çok iyi bir kitaptı. Sadece depresif döneminde olan arkadaşlara önermem :)
⭐
"Yalnızsın. Yalnız bir adam gibi yürümeyi, aylak aylak dolaşmayı, sürtmeyi, bakmadan görmeyi, görmeden bakmayı öğreniyorsun. Saydamlığı, hareketsizliği, varolmayışı öğreniyorsun. Bir gölge olmayı ve insanlara sanki hepsi birer taşmış gibi bakmayı öğreniyorsun. Oturur durumda, yatar durumda kalmayı, ayakta durmayı öğreniyorsun."
🌸
İncecik ama çok iyi bir kitaptı. Sadece depresif döneminde olan arkadaşlara önermem :)
⭐
"Yalnızsın. Yalnız bir adam gibi yürümeyi, aylak aylak dolaşmayı, sürtmeyi, bakmadan görmeyi, görmeden bakmayı öğreniyorsun. Saydamlığı, hareketsizliği, varolmayışı öğreniyorsun. Bir gölge olmayı ve insanlara sanki hepsi birer taşmış gibi bakmayı öğreniyorsun. Oturur durumda, yatar durumda kalmayı, ayakta durmayı öğreniyorsun."
🌸
June 9, 2023
مردی که خواب است. آخ ادبیات فرانسه.
اثری شاعرانه، وهمآلود، سرشار از تأثیرات ادبی و هنری، موجی، با شخصیت اصلی `تو`.
و باز حسرت این که کاش زبان فرانسه بلد بودم و فرانسوی میخوندم که لذتش چند برابر میشد قطعاً.
این رو هم بنویسم که لذت میبرم از این موضوع که در جستجوی پروست رو خوندم که بعد از اون هرچی بخواد بهش ربطی داشته باشه یه طعم قشنگی واسهم پیدا میکنه.
اثری شاعرانه، وهمآلود، سرشار از تأثیرات ادبی و هنری، موجی، با شخصیت اصلی `تو`.
و باز حسرت این که کاش زبان فرانسه بلد بودم و فرانسوی میخوندم که لذتش چند برابر میشد قطعاً.
این رو هم بنویسم که لذت میبرم از این موضوع که در جستجوی پروست رو خوندم که بعد از اون هرچی بخواد بهش ربطی داشته باشه یه طعم قشنگی واسهم پیدا میکنه.
May 29, 2023
کتاب حال و هوای رمان های سارتر رو داره .
شخصیت اصلی داستان که اسمشو هیچوقت قرار نیست بفهمیم یه بخشایی بین خواب و بیداریه و خیلی جاها حرفاش شبیه هذیونه
کتابی نیست که همه پسند باشه ، دوسش داشتم.
شخصیت اصلی داستان که اسمشو هیچوقت قرار نیست بفهمیم یه بخشایی بین خواب و بیداریه و خیلی جاها حرفاش شبیه هذیونه
کتابی نیست که همه پسند باشه ، دوسش داشتم.
December 16, 2019
"Sen bir aylak, bir uyurgezersin, bir istiridyesin. Tanımlar saatlere, günlere göre değişiyor ama taşıdıkları anlam az çok belli: Yaşamanın, harekete geçmenin, bir şey yapmanın pek sana göre olmadığını hissediyorsun; sadece sürüp gitmek istiyorsun, sadece bekleyişi ve unutuşu istiyorsun.
Modern yaşam bu tür eğilimleri genelde pek hoş karşılamaz. Çevrende her zaman eyleme, büyük tasarılara, coşkuya ayrıcalık tanındığını gördün: öne atılan adam, gözlerini ufka dikmiş adam, dimdik ileriye bakan adam. Pırıl pırıl bakış, kararlı çene, kendinden emin yürüyüş, karın içeride. Kararlılık, girişkenlik, ses getiren hareket ve zafer, son derece örnek bir yaşamın son derece berrak yolunu gösterir, yaşam mücadelesinin pek saygıdeğer resimlerini çizerler. Yerinde sayanların ve batağa saplananların düşlerini süsleyen pek kıymetli yalanlar, ihmal edilen binlerce kişinin yitik hayalleri, çok geç gelmiş olanlar, valizlerini kaldırıma koyup terlerini silmek için üstüne oturanlar. Ama senin özürlere, pişmanlıklara, nostaljilere ihtiyacın yok. Sen hiçbir şeyi dışlamıyor, hiçbir şeyi reddetmiyorsun. İlerlemekten vazgeçtin, ama zaten ilerlemiyordun ki, yeniden yola çıkmıyorsun, vardın sen, daha uzağa gidip de ne yapacağını kestiremiyorsun [...]" (s.20)
Eğiliminiz varsa, benliğinizin dehlizlerinde karanlık bir yolculuğa çıkmanıza sebep olabilecek bir eser. Bu veya buna benzer bir iç yolculuğa geçmişte veya bugün çıkmamış olan, çıkma ihtimali de olmayan "mutlu" insana ne kadar anlamlı gelir, bilemiyorum.
4/5
Modern yaşam bu tür eğilimleri genelde pek hoş karşılamaz. Çevrende her zaman eyleme, büyük tasarılara, coşkuya ayrıcalık tanındığını gördün: öne atılan adam, gözlerini ufka dikmiş adam, dimdik ileriye bakan adam. Pırıl pırıl bakış, kararlı çene, kendinden emin yürüyüş, karın içeride. Kararlılık, girişkenlik, ses getiren hareket ve zafer, son derece örnek bir yaşamın son derece berrak yolunu gösterir, yaşam mücadelesinin pek saygıdeğer resimlerini çizerler. Yerinde sayanların ve batağa saplananların düşlerini süsleyen pek kıymetli yalanlar, ihmal edilen binlerce kişinin yitik hayalleri, çok geç gelmiş olanlar, valizlerini kaldırıma koyup terlerini silmek için üstüne oturanlar. Ama senin özürlere, pişmanlıklara, nostaljilere ihtiyacın yok. Sen hiçbir şeyi dışlamıyor, hiçbir şeyi reddetmiyorsun. İlerlemekten vazgeçtin, ama zaten ilerlemiyordun ki, yeniden yola çıkmıyorsun, vardın sen, daha uzağa gidip de ne yapacağını kestiremiyorsun [...]" (s.20)
Eğiliminiz varsa, benliğinizin dehlizlerinde karanlık bir yolculuğa çıkmanıza sebep olabilecek bir eser. Bu veya buna benzer bir iç yolculuğa geçmişte veya bugün çıkmamış olan, çıkma ihtimali de olmayan "mutlu" insana ne kadar anlamlı gelir, bilemiyorum.
4/5
May 23, 2022
Sei un ragazzo come tanti, uno che si affaccia alla vita, sei uno studente universitario pieno di false speranze - il sole che picchia sulle lastre zincate del tetto, un libro sulla mensola, un pacco di zucchero semifinito vicino a una tazza di caffè mezza vuota, una sigaretta che si consuma - la sveglia suona ricordandoti l’esame, ma non ti muovi di un centimetro, rimani nel letto, richiudi gli occhi in un’assenza di gesto, nell’attesa che quell’attendere cessi, che nell’indifferenza si zittisca quella voce nella testa che ti rivela la tua inadattabilità alla vita, quella vita come un spaccato di storia che ti rappresenta, un brano fallace, un paragrafo di tempi morti e passaggi a vuoto, il vuoto scenario della tua vita disertata, di una dimissione a lungo sospesa, un’assenza d’agire in un mondo che non ti sorregge più, il desiderio di non attacare, di non difendersi, di non produrre, di non macinare, di non trionfare, di non fallire, di non muovere esili e ridicoli passi in quell’orologio che scandisce i minuti come fossero le responsabilità dell’esistere, tu che vuoi essere il non voler più niente, l’essere senza desideri, senza risentimenti, senza ribellione, tu che ti costringi all’indifferenza, alla dimenticanza, tu che sfilacci tutti i legami della tua vita, tu che ti disamori di tutto, che ti risparmi, che in questa parentesi vuota priva di promesse e doveri cerchi la libertà e speri in una protezione, tu l’anonimo, tu l’inaccessibile, tu con quest’illusione pericolosa di essere inespugnabile, tu che sei così poca cosa mentre il mondo è un tal parolone, tu, tu devi permettere al mondo e al tempo di muoversi, perché non c’è nessun giudice, nessuna colpa, perché solo il tempo conosce la risposta: il ticchettare perpetuo, lo scorrere incessante.
Sei vivo.
Sei vivo.
April 16, 2020
Uyuyan Adam benim Georges Perec ile tanışma kitabım oldu ve ilk kitap olarak Uyuyan Adam’ı seçmiş olmaktan ziyadesiyle memnun kaldım.
Bu kitapta yaşama amacını kaybetmiş 25 yaşındaki bir genç adamın hikayesini dinliyoruz. Kendisini ikinci tekil şahıs gözünden anlatmasıyla, kendine ne kadar uzak bir adam olduğuna daha çok ikna oluyoruz. Yaşama amacını kaybetmek, kolay bir söz. Öyle ki, neyi bulmanız gerektiğini bile bilmediğiniz bir noktada, intihara bile tenezül etmeyen bir ruh olduğunuzu düşünün! Birileri varlığımızın farkında olduğu kadar canlıyız aslında ve artık siz sokakta dolaşırken, kimse varlığınızın farkında değil.
Her ne kadar ağır ve kasvetli bir roman olsa da, ben anlattıkları ile kolaylıkla empati kurabildim. Bunda karakter ile aynı yaşta olmamızın da etkisi epey büyük. İçimde bir Sabahattin Ali umuduyla uyandığım her gün, döngüsünü yaşama sevincimi kaybettirmeden tamamlayacak diye bir şey yok. Ama her sabaha aynı heves ve coşkuyla uyanmaktan asla vazgeçmiyorum da.
Sayfa 32-33. “Keşke insan türüne ait olmak, o dayanılmaz ve sağır edici gürültüyü de beraberinde getirmeseydi; keşke hayvanlar âleminden çıkıp aşılan o birkaç gülünç adımın bedeli, sözcüklerin, büyük tasarıların, büyük atılımların o dinmek bilmeyen hazımsızlığı olmasaydı! Karşı karşıya getirilebilen başparmaklara, iki ayak üstünde duruşa, omuzlar üzerinde başın yarım dönüşüne fazla ağır bir bedel bu. Yaşam denen bu kazan, bu fırın, bu ızgara, bu milyarlarca uyarı, kışkırtma, tembih, coşkunluk, bu bitmek bilmeyen baskı ortamı, bu sonsuz üretme, ezme, yutma, engelleri aşma, durmadan ve yeniden baştan başlama makinesi, senin değersiz varoluşunun her gününü, her saatini yönetmek isteyen bu yumuşak dehşet. Pek yaşadın denemez, oysa her şey çoktan söylendi, çoktan bitti. Topu topu yirmi beş yaşındasın, ama yolun çizilmiş bile.”
Bu kitapta yaşama amacını kaybetmiş 25 yaşındaki bir genç adamın hikayesini dinliyoruz. Kendisini ikinci tekil şahıs gözünden anlatmasıyla, kendine ne kadar uzak bir adam olduğuna daha çok ikna oluyoruz. Yaşama amacını kaybetmek, kolay bir söz. Öyle ki, neyi bulmanız gerektiğini bile bilmediğiniz bir noktada, intihara bile tenezül etmeyen bir ruh olduğunuzu düşünün! Birileri varlığımızın farkında olduğu kadar canlıyız aslında ve artık siz sokakta dolaşırken, kimse varlığınızın farkında değil.
Her ne kadar ağır ve kasvetli bir roman olsa da, ben anlattıkları ile kolaylıkla empati kurabildim. Bunda karakter ile aynı yaşta olmamızın da etkisi epey büyük. İçimde bir Sabahattin Ali umuduyla uyandığım her gün, döngüsünü yaşama sevincimi kaybettirmeden tamamlayacak diye bir şey yok. Ama her sabaha aynı heves ve coşkuyla uyanmaktan asla vazgeçmiyorum da.
Sayfa 32-33. “Keşke insan türüne ait olmak, o dayanılmaz ve sağır edici gürültüyü de beraberinde getirmeseydi; keşke hayvanlar âleminden çıkıp aşılan o birkaç gülünç adımın bedeli, sözcüklerin, büyük tasarıların, büyük atılımların o dinmek bilmeyen hazımsızlığı olmasaydı! Karşı karşıya getirilebilen başparmaklara, iki ayak üstünde duruşa, omuzlar üzerinde başın yarım dönüşüne fazla ağır bir bedel bu. Yaşam denen bu kazan, bu fırın, bu ızgara, bu milyarlarca uyarı, kışkırtma, tembih, coşkunluk, bu bitmek bilmeyen baskı ortamı, bu sonsuz üretme, ezme, yutma, engelleri aşma, durmadan ve yeniden baştan başlama makinesi, senin değersiz varoluşunun her gününü, her saatini yönetmek isteyen bu yumuşak dehşet. Pek yaşadın denemez, oysa her şey çoktan söylendi, çoktan bitti. Topu topu yirmi beş yaşındasın, ama yolun çizilmiş bile.”
December 10, 2017
Ahora vives en el terror del silencio. Pero ¿no eres tú el más silencioso de todos?Crudo, un espejo roto con pocas grietas y mucho reflejo. Esto es de lo mejor que he leído en mi vida. Un retrato implacable del miedo existencial. Un golpe seco contra la falsa trascendencia del sentimiento. Todos somos, en mayor o menor medida, el Hombre que Duerme.
En mi opinión, con un libro hay dos maneras de enseñar: asustando o mostrando el camino. Perec asusta como nunca antes había leído en un autor. Evidencia el cinismo, la exposición privada, la vulnerabilidad de la que huimos horrorizados; la mutilación de las sensaciones, la expresión sesgada, el miedo a un daño posible. Humilla, burla, escupe, araña. Solo aprendemos por las malas.
Pero no se queda ahí, no solo asusta. Perec exagera, nos alerta de la monstruosidad a la que estamos caminando, ciegos al suicidio. No obstante, también nos guía. En esta novella lo que no se trata es tan importante como lo que se trata. Una vista hacia la humanidad a través de la anhedonia y de la necrosis del estoicismo. Lo valioso está fuera. La relación entre el personaje y el lector es contradictoria, liberadora, repulsiva. Busca la conmoción y con eso lo hermoso de vivir.
¡Libre como una vaca, como una ostra, como una rata!
September 9, 2021
Η πρώτη μου συνάντηση με τον Perec, ήταν κάπως περίεργη. Ομολογώ ότι με επηρέασε όλο αυτό το κλίμα της παραίτησης, της κατάθλιψης, της μοναχικότητας, της ανούσιας καθημερινότητας που επαναλαμβάνεται. Ταυτόχρονα όμως δεν είμαι σίγουρη ότι κατάλαβα τι ακριβώς ήθελε να πει, ποιο το βαθύτερο νόημα όσων διάβασα...
March 2, 2021
O mistrzu!
"Nic jeszcze nie przeżyłeś, a wszystko zostało już powiedziane, zakończone. Masz dopiero dwadzieścia pięć lat, lecz twoja droga jest już wytyczona. Role i etykietki naszykowano: od nocnika z czasów wczesnego dzieciństwa po fotel na kółkach na stare lata, wszystkie siedziska są gotowe i czekają na swoją kolej. Twoje przygody tak dobrze już opisano, że najzacieklejszy bunt na nikim nie zrobi już wrażenia. [...] Wszystko zostało przewidziane, przygotowane w najdrobniejszych szczegółach: wielkie miłosne porywy, zimna ironia, rozdarcie, pełnia, egzotyka, wielka przygoda, rozpacz. Nie zaprzedasz duszy diabłu, nie pójdziesz w sandałach rzucić się w głąb Etny, nie zniszczysz siódmego cudu świata. Wszystko już przyszykowano na twoją śmierć: kula, która cię przeszyje, została już odlana, już wyznaczono płaczki, które pójdą za twoją trumną".
"Nic jeszcze nie przeżyłeś, a wszystko zostało już powiedziane, zakończone. Masz dopiero dwadzieścia pięć lat, lecz twoja droga jest już wytyczona. Role i etykietki naszykowano: od nocnika z czasów wczesnego dzieciństwa po fotel na kółkach na stare lata, wszystkie siedziska są gotowe i czekają na swoją kolej. Twoje przygody tak dobrze już opisano, że najzacieklejszy bunt na nikim nie zrobi już wrażenia. [...] Wszystko zostało przewidziane, przygotowane w najdrobniejszych szczegółach: wielkie miłosne porywy, zimna ironia, rozdarcie, pełnia, egzotyka, wielka przygoda, rozpacz. Nie zaprzedasz duszy diabłu, nie pójdziesz w sandałach rzucić się w głąb Etny, nie zniszczysz siódmego cudu świata. Wszystko już przyszykowano na twoją śmierć: kula, która cię przeszyje, została już odlana, już wyznaczono płaczki, które pójdą za twoją trumną".
April 18, 2023
Buvau pamiršusi, kaip man patinka Georges Perec!!!
Kažkuo baisiai patrauklus tas jo atliekamas labai gilus ir detalus stebėjimas, tuo pat metu išvengiant vertinimų, psichologizavimo, banalios introspekcijos.
Knygos herojus nusprendžia iškristi iš gyvenimo, iš socialinių ryšių, ir skirti savo laiką miegojimui, bastymuisi po Paryžių, kortų dėliojimui.
Norėčiau cituoti visą knygą, bet štai keletas pasažų.
Šitas priminė migrenos priepuolį:
Knygos herojus – vienišas, atsiribojantis, bet negalįs atsiriboti nuo savo „akies“, o galiausiai vėl įkrentantis atgal, savo eksperimentu neatvėręs jokių didžiųjų tiesų.
Knyga labai trumpa, bet puiki ieškantiems šviežio vėjo.
Kažkuo baisiai patrauklus tas jo atliekamas labai gilus ir detalus stebėjimas, tuo pat metu išvengiant vertinimų, psichologizavimo, banalios introspekcijos.
Knygos herojus nusprendžia iškristi iš gyvenimo, iš socialinių ryšių, ir skirti savo laiką miegojimui, bastymuisi po Paryžių, kortų dėliojimui.
Norėčiau cituoti visą knygą, bet štai keletas pasažų.
Šitas priminė migrenos priepuolį:
Pirmiausia vaizdai – pažįstami arba neduodantys ramybės. Išdėliotos kortos, kurias be perstojo perdėlioji, nesugebėdamas sudėti taip, kaip nori, ir tas nemalonus jausmas, kad reikia užbaigti, kad turi pavykti įvesti tvarką, lyg tai padėtų atrasti svarbią tiesą, bet rankoje vis ta pati korta, ją vieną vis paimi ir padedi, tai vienur, tai kitur, tai vienaip, tai kitaip; pirmyn atgal plūsta minios; tave supančiose sienose ieškai slapto išėjimo arba mygtuko, kurį paspaudus sienos sugriūtų, pakiltų lubos; formos išryškėja, pranyksta, grįžta, dingsta, priartėja, išblunka, šokančios liepsnos ir moterys, šešėlių žaismas.
Šitas labai gražus:
tavęs neįkvepia vaizdai, nejaudina laukų ramybė, tyla nei guodžia, nei erzina. Tave sudominti gali nebent koks vabzdys, akmuo, nukritęs medžio lapas, pats medis (kartais valandų valandas žiūri į medį, bandai jį apibūdinti, smulkiai išanalizuoti šaknis, kamieną, šakas, lapus, kiekvieną lapą atskirai, kiekvieną gyslelę, kiekvieną šaką) arba begalinis jo įgaunamų abejingų pavidalų (veidų, miestų, labirintų, kelių, herbų, raitelių) žaismas, kurio godžiai maldauji arba pats susigalvoji. Aštrėjant tavajam įžvalgumui, didėjant kantrybei ir subtilumui, medis tavo akyse tarytum iš naujo užgimsta, sprogsta šimtais žalios atspalvių, galybe lyg vienodų, bet vis dėlto unikalių lapelių.
Knygos herojus – vienišas, atsiribojantis, bet negalįs atsiriboti nuo savo „akies“, o galiausiai vėl įkrentantis atgal, savo eksperimentu neatvėręs jokių didžiųjų tiesų.
Knyga labai trumpa, bet puiki ieškantiems šviežio vėjo.
March 23, 2020
"...llega el día de tu examen y no te levantas. No es un gesto premeditado, ni siquiera es un gesto, sino la ausencia de un gesto, un gesto que no haces, gestos que evitas hacer".
El protagonista, a quien el narrador trata de tú, comienza a sumergirse en una negación de las obligaciones, metas, anhelos. Deambula sin rumbo por la ciudad, se entretiene mirando las grietas del cielorraso, duerme. Pareciera que espera algo (aunque también le está negada la expectativa, la espera). ¿Adónde lo llevará está deriva?
Perec maneja con maestría el lenguaje para mostrarnos esta sustracción del hombre a las demandas del mundo, y las experiencias (o no-experiencias) que va viviendo (o no-viviendo). Muy buena.
PD: En algún momento aparece una mención implícita a Barteleby, el gran iniciador de "preferiría no hacerlo".
El protagonista, a quien el narrador trata de tú, comienza a sumergirse en una negación de las obligaciones, metas, anhelos. Deambula sin rumbo por la ciudad, se entretiene mirando las grietas del cielorraso, duerme. Pareciera que espera algo (aunque también le está negada la expectativa, la espera). ¿Adónde lo llevará está deriva?
Perec maneja con maestría el lenguaje para mostrarnos esta sustracción del hombre a las demandas del mundo, y las experiencias (o no-experiencias) que va viviendo (o no-viviendo). Muy buena.
PD: En algún momento aparece una mención implícita a Barteleby, el gran iniciador de "preferiría no hacerlo".
Displaying 1 - 30 of 622 reviews