Henry Miller
The narration comes as a rave of a cynical lunatic And this madman abides in the hallucinatory world of his own making.
And the narration comes as an obscene prayer to the goddess Astarte Capricorn is a lascivious goat after all And tropic is a gateway to the hottest and wettest equatorial zone
Henry Miller is grotesquely farcical and cynically truthful
These days truth is rare merchandise because it brings angst and anxiety but it is a merchandise any authentic writer must deal in.
ومع أني لم أنتهي من الكتاب إلا أني أجدني مدفوعا برغبة غامضة للكتابة. مع العلم أني لم أقرر بعد هل سأكمله أم لا. .
بالأمس كنت في حالة من عدم الاتزان حالة ذهنية ونفسية شديدة السوء لم تداهمني من قبل ربما الاكتئاب هو السبب. المهم وأنا في تلك الحالة وبينما أجوب شوارع وسط البلد مع صديقة لي ضاع الكتاب. نعم ضا ع مدار الجدي في مكان ما. سأحكي لكم: صليت الظهر في زاوية صغيرة ثم قابلت صديقتي. سألتني: كتاب جديد قلت: لا. قديم لكني أقرأ فيه. هنري يلهمني وأنا أكتب. كلمتها عن أهمية الكتاب ثم ذهبنا وتناولنا الغداء ثم إلي المقهي ثم إلي مكتبة شهيرة نتنزه وسط الكتب ثم وقعت عيني علي نسخة معروضة من الكتاب فجأة تذكرت. أوه. . أين الكتاب كان معك أجابتني وخرجنا نبحث عن الكتاب. وأنا في حالة من الضياع والتشتت. وكأن ابني تاه مني. كنت قد تجاوزتصفحة فقط من الكتاب. كنت أقرأ بتأن واستمتاع بالغين. هنري يسب أم أمريكا ويلعن من خلفوها. هذه هي فاتحة الكتاب. ويبدو أن هذه هي تيمة الكتاب كله. هنري حزين جدا في مدار الجدي علي حال الانسان المنسحق من فوق ومن الآلة ومن الشغل ومن المخدرات والجنس. .
هنري يبكي حاله وحال أميركا وحال العالم. .
هذا أول كتاب يضيع مني يا هنري ماذا أفعل سأذهب لدلتا فينوس كتاب صديقتك نن. .
Zor bir kitap "Oğlak Dönencesi",
Yazarın "Yengeç Dönencesi"ni okuduğum yakın zamanda, Henry Miller'ı keşfetmemin ne kadar geç kaldığını anladığımda büyük bir panik hali yaşamış ve en kısa zamanda "Oğlak Dönencesi"ni okuma kararı almıştım.
Ancak "Yengeç Dönencesi"nde ki oburluğum burada kendini gösteremedi, Kitap yordu beni bir noktada, O yüzden yarısında ara vermek ve araya birçok kitap sokmak durumunda kaldım, Bu, aslında Miller'in değil, benim densizliğim, Zira Miller tempolu bir hayat içerisinde, dikkatinizi vermeniz gereken onca başka şey varken okunacak eserler yazmıyor, Haliyle ben zamanı yanlış seçmiştim,
Henry Miller olay odaklı ve kronolojik bir anlatım benimsemediğinden okuması hayli zor ve meşakkatli oluyor, Okuyucusunu belirleyen bir yazar Miller, Proustvari bir edebiyattan da bahsetmiyorum, Çok daha başına buyruk, savruk, kavramsal bir dili var Miller'in, Altını çizebileceğiniz çok fazla pasajla karşılaşıyorsunuz, Düşüncesini anlatma şekli çok özel ve özgün, Okurken farkına varıyorsunuz, diyorsunuz ki 'bu adam boşuna çağın en önemli yazarlarından biri olmamış',
Tabulara karşı sanatın her dalında karşıtlık oluşturan eserlere hayranlık duyan benim için "Oğlak Dönencesi"ni beğenmem kaçınılmazdı.
Bataille tarzı grotesk ve gündelik hayatın içine yedirdiği bir yaklaşımı var olaylara, "Oğlak Dönencesi" müstehcenlik gereğiyle uzun yıllar yasak kalmış bir kitap ancak bence tabulara, erk sistemin getirmiş olduğu genelgeçer ahlaka vurulmuş bir darbe olduğundan, korkudan yasaklanmış bir kitap.
Yazarın dili bazı kesimlerce fazla erkek egemen bulunuyor, Ben buna katılmakla beraber kadınlarla bir sorunu olduğunu kabul etmiyorum, Zira yazar inanılmaz dürüst, Miller'in sadece kadınlarla değil, toplumla, erkeklerle, insanlarla, hayvanlarla, tanrıyla ve her şeyle benzer problemleri olduğunu gözden çıkarmamak gerek.
Çeviriyi beğenmeyenlerle de karşılaştım daha önce ama yine bana göre Avi Pardo'nun Miller çevirileri, Roza Hakmen'in çevirileri ile yarışacak düzeyde.
Çoğu noktada çevirmenin hakimiyetine ve gücüne hayranlık duydum,
Kafanızın ve zamanınızın boş olduğu bir zamanda, kallavi bir edebiyat eseri okumak istiyorum diyorsanız, "Oğlak Dönencesi" güzel bir tercih olacaktır.
/I read the first few chapters, . . it was boring . then I skipped chapters hoping he would get more interesting, . he didn't . kept going it was still boring towards the end he is pathetically sentimental, selfindulgent and boring, . .
I think it is because he was mooching off his wife while trying to shag someone else's wives in order to mooch off them too.
. . and too much mooching off the labours of women while being an annoying left bank Parisian bum, made him go "cunt, cunt, cunt" a lot.
. .
but it did not make him an interesting writer with a plot or indeed a man whose rant an intelligent thinking, postmodern woman could stand.
. . given his misogyny and his endless rants, without a plot.
Like Bukowski, rather Bukowski copied him, . . he tried to give the impression of being good in bed and all that, but uses too many words and in short, I consider this genre of writing, . . EARLY Dicklit. !
However if you randomly pick out a phrase or two, . . he had very interesting way of using the english language fusing it with Americanism, But not enough synergy to make this pulp of a Dick lit, interesting .
Oh henry a freaking socialist croissant commie cliche zzzz, . . at least you were not a puritan protestant prude, . . I suppose we should we grateful for that, . . but lets call a spade a spade, he giggoloed himself . so his socialism came into good use!
Those were the days, when simple notsowelltravelled women got impressed by some guy who got his book banned in Turkey big whoppie! just by using the word "cunt".
. . in modern times mediocre writers have to at least get a Fatwah, . . something that the wimpy croissant
munching Henry probably wouldn't be able to handle, it would require commitement and conviction that he prided himself on not possessing an ounce of! Zzzz, lol.
:
Βαθμολογία:
Όσο με ενθουσίασε στην αρχή, άλλο τόσο με έχασε προς το τέλος, για ακόμη μια φορά, Δομή που κουράζει απίστευτα, έλλειψη κεφαλαίων, γραφή τόσο συνειρμική που μπορείς να προσπεράσεις μερικές σελίδες και να συνεχίσεις να διαβάζεις χωρίς να χαθείς. Αναγνωρίζω πάντως τη λογοτεχνική του αξία, σε αντίθεση με τον Bukowski και άλλους συγγραφείς του είδους. In Tropic of Capricorn, Henry Miller appears in a hallucinated monologue of a type on the fringes, of an outsider, a magnificent loser, rebellious, flayed alive, of a saturnal personality O Verlaine!.
Miller retraces the life of his Brooklyn neighborhood as he first knew it as a child: his memories of his grandfather's little tailor shop and the smells of the businesses in his community the Mephistopheles infection of tanner's skin with the irresistible scent of fresh bread and confectionery pastries.
He thus becomes the saddened and revolted witness of the metamorphosis of this once sofamiliar setting, Miller reveals himself, on the other hand, as a womanizer, sometimes violent with women, always broke but just as lavish, regularly "tapper" one would say a scratcher nowadays.
. . , calculating and, above all, odiously cynical or fiercely honest it depends, But he knows how to be tender, with a sad tenderness reminiscent of the forever bygone days of mischievous, naive, and generous youth.
Or when it paints a portrait of his father, jovial and bon vivant, of a healthy anticlericalism, Who, diminished and weakened by illness, seized with remorse of conscience, becomes a late devotee, "elder of his congregation," To finally be extinguished in the emptiness left by the departure of his beloved pastor.
The author also recounts his beginnings in a writer's career, the enthusiastic discovery of the Dada movement and surrealism from which he was, spiritually, apart across the Atlantic while ignoring.
It seems, its existence. He professes his great admiration for Dostoyevsky and Elie Faure author of monumental art history and recounts Bergson's revelation by reading Creative Evolution.
We have spoken of the writer as livelyskinned, and this opus reflects this temperament, Miller belches in welltimed prose all his hatred his wounded love His modesty, All his rage, his anger, destroyed the American dream, He pushes his diatribe against human stupidity, the ugliness of an absurd and frenzied American society, taken by an itch of movement so as not to have to think, cannibal, plagued by violence.
His prose is a ferment of madness, an apology for dreams in reaction against a civilization unsurprisingly omnipresent with a harmful obsession for perfection.
It is impossible to ignore the main inconvenience of this work,
Sometimes the text gets bogged down in delusions of surrealist descriptions, rantings one of his favorite words, meaningless, and confusing it becomes boring, almost illegible, and defies the limits of patience and goodwill.
Several times the book almost fell out of my hands, And then, fiercely for the feminist cause, go your way or suffer the ulcer that will appear when reading the detailed and complacent accounts of the multiple exploits and sexual performances of a sacred hot rabbit.
.
have been banned for its banality rather than its sexual content, I recently reread the first page and counted five cliches, I'd've found more had I the strength to continue, Miller had pluck, sure, and ballsful of bravado, But talent I might've wanted to drink with him in some Dijon bordello, listen to one or two of his stories outloud his novels certainly read like they were dictated but his written words are weak and watery.
Of course, he couldn't see that, blinded as he was by his outsized ego,
More than five, actually: "given up the ghost" "dead certainty" "I was my own worst enemy, " "bored me to tears" "sympathetic to a fault" "a change of heart" "at first blush"
There were many other soft cliches and tired turns of phrase, all on page one.
I checked other pages, just in case he was making a prepost modern comment of some kind, but no, no, His writing, in all of his books the eight or so that I've read, anyway is replete with laziness intermingled with bits of careless genius.
Racist. Sexist. Let's move on. In certain respects this work supersedes that of Cancer, If Cancer is a work that revolves around fluids, around the Seine, around piss, spermatozoa etc, then Capricorn is one of solids, In Brooklyn we find ourselves forced to go toward the spiritual Land of Fuck, in the Southern States we are forced to contend with arid landscapes and racial tensions so tense that they could kill a man through a mere gaze.
The best way to describe the work is to highlight Millers own self described evolution from skater to swimmer to rock.
Having broken through the futility of Dantes ice, Miller quits the skating shtick and joyfully dives in to the freshly thawed oceans, before realising that one must become immutable at the very depths of the ocean.
One must paradoxically be bone dry surrounded by the sea, a lighthouse that stands strong against the ensuing waves,
So yeah, this shit was pretty fucking good, Especially loved whenever he brought up Dostoevsky, Bergson or Nietzsche, its fun to see what he reads into them, "I wanted to be wide awake without talking or writing about it, in order to accept life absolutely, "
Tropic of Capricorn is certainly a much more mature and controlled novel than his earlier works, One of the most intellectually stimulating works of literature I've ever read, What does it take to become a writer First of all a person must find ones true self, And the process of searching can be very cynical, And true selves can be very different,
Everything that happens, when it has significance, is in the nature of a contradiction, Until the one for whom this is written came along I imagined that somewhere outside, in life, as they say, lay the solutions to all things.
I thought, when I came upon her, that I was seizing hold of life, seizing hold of something which I could bite into.
Instead I lost hold of life completely, I reached out for something to attach myself to and I found nothing, But in reaching out, in the effort to grasp, to attach myself, left high and dry as I was, I nevertheless found something I had not looked for myself.
The narration comes as a rave of a cynical lunatic And this madman abides in the hallucinatory world of his own making.
I was walking again in Dreamland and a man was walking above me on a tightrope and above him a man was sitting in an aeroplane spelling letters of smoke in the sky.
The woman hanging on my arm was pregnant and in six or seven years the thing she was carrying inside her would be able to read the letters in the sky and he or she or it would know that it was a cigarette and later would smoke the cigarette, perhaps a package a day.
And the narration comes as an obscene prayer to the goddess Astarte Capricorn is a lascivious goat after all And tropic is a gateway to the hottest and wettest equatorial zone
My eyes are useless, for they render back only the image of the known.
My whole body must become a constant beam of light, moving with an ever greater rapidity, never arrested, never looking back, never dwindling.
The city grows like a cancer I must grow like a sun, The city eats deeper and deeper into the red it is an insatiable white louse which must die eventually of inanition, I am going to starve the white louse which is eating me up, I am going to die as a city in order to become again a man, Therefore I close my ears, my eyes, my mouth,
Henry Miller is grotesquely farcical and cynically truthful
These days truth is rare merchandise because it brings angst and anxiety but it is a merchandise any authentic writer must deal in.
ومع أني لم أنتهي من الكتاب إلا أني أجدني مدفوعا برغبة غامضة للكتابة. مع العلم أني لم أقرر بعد هل سأكمله أم لا. .
بالأمس كنت في حالة من عدم الاتزان حالة ذهنية ونفسية شديدة السوء لم تداهمني من قبل ربما الاكتئاب هو السبب. المهم وأنا في تلك الحالة وبينما أجوب شوارع وسط البلد مع صديقة لي ضاع الكتاب. نعم ضا ع مدار الجدي في مكان ما. سأحكي لكم: صليت الظهر في زاوية صغيرة ثم قابلت صديقتي. سألتني: كتاب جديد قلت: لا. قديم لكني أقرأ فيه. هنري يلهمني وأنا أكتب. كلمتها عن أهمية الكتاب ثم ذهبنا وتناولنا الغداء ثم إلي المقهي ثم إلي مكتبة شهيرة نتنزه وسط الكتب ثم وقعت عيني علي نسخة معروضة من الكتاب فجأة تذكرت. أوه. . أين الكتاب كان معك أجابتني وخرجنا نبحث عن الكتاب. وأنا في حالة من الضياع والتشتت. وكأن ابني تاه مني. كنت قد تجاوزتصفحة فقط من الكتاب. كنت أقرأ بتأن واستمتاع بالغين. هنري يسب أم أمريكا ويلعن من خلفوها. هذه هي فاتحة الكتاب. ويبدو أن هذه هي تيمة الكتاب كله. هنري حزين جدا في مدار الجدي علي حال الانسان المنسحق من فوق ومن الآلة ومن الشغل ومن المخدرات والجنس. .
هنري يبكي حاله وحال أميركا وحال العالم. .
هذا أول كتاب يضيع مني يا هنري ماذا أفعل سأذهب لدلتا فينوس كتاب صديقتك نن. .
Zor bir kitap "Oğlak Dönencesi",
Yazarın "Yengeç Dönencesi"ni okuduğum yakın zamanda, Henry Miller'ı keşfetmemin ne kadar geç kaldığını anladığımda büyük bir panik hali yaşamış ve en kısa zamanda "Oğlak Dönencesi"ni okuma kararı almıştım.
Ancak "Yengeç Dönencesi"nde ki oburluğum burada kendini gösteremedi, Kitap yordu beni bir noktada, O yüzden yarısında ara vermek ve araya birçok kitap sokmak durumunda kaldım, Bu, aslında Miller'in değil, benim densizliğim, Zira Miller tempolu bir hayat içerisinde, dikkatinizi vermeniz gereken onca başka şey varken okunacak eserler yazmıyor, Haliyle ben zamanı yanlış seçmiştim,
Henry Miller olay odaklı ve kronolojik bir anlatım benimsemediğinden okuması hayli zor ve meşakkatli oluyor, Okuyucusunu belirleyen bir yazar Miller, Proustvari bir edebiyattan da bahsetmiyorum, Çok daha başına buyruk, savruk, kavramsal bir dili var Miller'in, Altını çizebileceğiniz çok fazla pasajla karşılaşıyorsunuz, Düşüncesini anlatma şekli çok özel ve özgün, Okurken farkına varıyorsunuz, diyorsunuz ki 'bu adam boşuna çağın en önemli yazarlarından biri olmamış',
Tabulara karşı sanatın her dalında karşıtlık oluşturan eserlere hayranlık duyan benim için "Oğlak Dönencesi"ni beğenmem kaçınılmazdı.
Bataille tarzı grotesk ve gündelik hayatın içine yedirdiği bir yaklaşımı var olaylara, "Oğlak Dönencesi" müstehcenlik gereğiyle uzun yıllar yasak kalmış bir kitap ancak bence tabulara, erk sistemin getirmiş olduğu genelgeçer ahlaka vurulmuş bir darbe olduğundan, korkudan yasaklanmış bir kitap.
Yazarın dili bazı kesimlerce fazla erkek egemen bulunuyor, Ben buna katılmakla beraber kadınlarla bir sorunu olduğunu kabul etmiyorum, Zira yazar inanılmaz dürüst, Miller'in sadece kadınlarla değil, toplumla, erkeklerle, insanlarla, hayvanlarla, tanrıyla ve her şeyle benzer problemleri olduğunu gözden çıkarmamak gerek.
Çeviriyi beğenmeyenlerle de karşılaştım daha önce ama yine bana göre Avi Pardo'nun Miller çevirileri, Roza Hakmen'in çevirileri ile yarışacak düzeyde.
Çoğu noktada çevirmenin hakimiyetine ve gücüne hayranlık duydum,
Kafanızın ve zamanınızın boş olduğu bir zamanda, kallavi bir edebiyat eseri okumak istiyorum diyorsanız, "Oğlak Dönencesi" güzel bir tercih olacaktır.
/I read the first few chapters, . . it was boring . then I skipped chapters hoping he would get more interesting, . he didn't . kept going it was still boring towards the end he is pathetically sentimental, selfindulgent and boring, . .
I think it is because he was mooching off his wife while trying to shag someone else's wives in order to mooch off them too.
. . and too much mooching off the labours of women while being an annoying left bank Parisian bum, made him go "cunt, cunt, cunt" a lot.
. .
but it did not make him an interesting writer with a plot or indeed a man whose rant an intelligent thinking, postmodern woman could stand.
. . given his misogyny and his endless rants, without a plot.
Like Bukowski, rather Bukowski copied him, . . he tried to give the impression of being good in bed and all that, but uses too many words and in short, I consider this genre of writing, . . EARLY Dicklit. !
However if you randomly pick out a phrase or two, . . he had very interesting way of using the english language fusing it with Americanism, But not enough synergy to make this pulp of a Dick lit, interesting .
Oh henry a freaking socialist croissant commie cliche zzzz, . . at least you were not a puritan protestant prude, . . I suppose we should we grateful for that, . . but lets call a spade a spade, he giggoloed himself . so his socialism came into good use!
Those were the days, when simple notsowelltravelled women got impressed by some guy who got his book banned in Turkey big whoppie! just by using the word "cunt".
. . in modern times mediocre writers have to at least get a Fatwah, . . something that the wimpy croissant
munching Henry probably wouldn't be able to handle, it would require commitement and conviction that he prided himself on not possessing an ounce of! Zzzz, lol.
:
Βαθμολογία:
Όσο με ενθουσίασε στην αρχή, άλλο τόσο με έχασε προς το τέλος, για ακόμη μια φορά, Δομή που κουράζει απίστευτα, έλλειψη κεφαλαίων, γραφή τόσο συνειρμική που μπορείς να προσπεράσεις μερικές σελίδες και να συνεχίσεις να διαβάζεις χωρίς να χαθείς. Αναγνωρίζω πάντως τη λογοτεχνική του αξία, σε αντίθεση με τον Bukowski και άλλους συγγραφείς του είδους. In Tropic of Capricorn, Henry Miller appears in a hallucinated monologue of a type on the fringes, of an outsider, a magnificent loser, rebellious, flayed alive, of a saturnal personality O Verlaine!.
Miller retraces the life of his Brooklyn neighborhood as he first knew it as a child: his memories of his grandfather's little tailor shop and the smells of the businesses in his community the Mephistopheles infection of tanner's skin with the irresistible scent of fresh bread and confectionery pastries.
He thus becomes the saddened and revolted witness of the metamorphosis of this once sofamiliar setting, Miller reveals himself, on the other hand, as a womanizer, sometimes violent with women, always broke but just as lavish, regularly "tapper" one would say a scratcher nowadays.
. . , calculating and, above all, odiously cynical or fiercely honest it depends, But he knows how to be tender, with a sad tenderness reminiscent of the forever bygone days of mischievous, naive, and generous youth.
Or when it paints a portrait of his father, jovial and bon vivant, of a healthy anticlericalism, Who, diminished and weakened by illness, seized with remorse of conscience, becomes a late devotee, "elder of his congregation," To finally be extinguished in the emptiness left by the departure of his beloved pastor.
The author also recounts his beginnings in a writer's career, the enthusiastic discovery of the Dada movement and surrealism from which he was, spiritually, apart across the Atlantic while ignoring.
It seems, its existence. He professes his great admiration for Dostoyevsky and Elie Faure author of monumental art history and recounts Bergson's revelation by reading Creative Evolution.
We have spoken of the writer as livelyskinned, and this opus reflects this temperament, Miller belches in welltimed prose all his hatred his wounded love His modesty, All his rage, his anger, destroyed the American dream, He pushes his diatribe against human stupidity, the ugliness of an absurd and frenzied American society, taken by an itch of movement so as not to have to think, cannibal, plagued by violence.
His prose is a ferment of madness, an apology for dreams in reaction against a civilization unsurprisingly omnipresent with a harmful obsession for perfection.
It is impossible to ignore the main inconvenience of this work,
Sometimes the text gets bogged down in delusions of surrealist descriptions, rantings one of his favorite words, meaningless, and confusing it becomes boring, almost illegible, and defies the limits of patience and goodwill.
Several times the book almost fell out of my hands, And then, fiercely for the feminist cause, go your way or suffer the ulcer that will appear when reading the detailed and complacent accounts of the multiple exploits and sexual performances of a sacred hot rabbit.
.