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In a masterpiece of love and loss by one of the world's greatest writers, Fabian travels in his VanHome from one end of the country to the other, searching, judging, and testing--himself most of all.
351 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1979
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About the author
Jerzy Kosiński
62 books610 followersKosiński was born Josef Lewinkopf to Jewish parents in Łódź, Poland. As a child during World War II, he lived in central Poland under a false identity his father gave him to use, Jerzy Kosiński. A Roman Catholic priest issued him a forged baptismal certificate. The Kosiński family survived the Holocaust thanks to local villagers, who offered assistance to Jewish Poles often at great personal risk (the penalty for assisting Jews in Nazi-occupied Poland was death). Kosiński's father received help not only from Polish town leaders and churchmen, but also from individuals such as Marianna Pasiowa, a member of the Polish underground network helping Jews to evade capture. The family lived openly in Dąbrowa Rzeczycka near Stalowa Wola, and attended church in nearby Wola Rzeczycka, obtaining support from villagers in Kępa Rzeczycka. They were sheltered temporarily by a Catholic family in Rzeczyca Okrągła. The young Jerzy even served as an altar boy in a local church.
After World War II, Kosiński remained with his parents in Poland, moved to Jelenia Góra, and earned degrees in history and political science at the University of Łódź. He worked as an assistant in Institute of History and Sociology at the Polish Academy of Sciences. In 1957, he emigrated to the United States, creating a fake foundation which supposedly sponsored him; he later claimed that the letters from eminent Polish communist authorities guaranteeing his loyal return, which were needed for anyone leaving the communist country at that time, had all been forged by him.
After taking odd jobs to get by, such as driving a truck, Kosiński graduated from Columbia University, and in 1965 he became an American citizen. He received grants from Guggenheim Fellowship in 1967, Ford Foundation in 1968, and the American Academy in 1970, which allowed him to write a political non-fiction book, opening new doors of opportunity. In the States he became a lecturer at Yale, Princeton, Davenport University, and Wesleyan.
In 1962 Kosiński married Mary Hayward Weir who was 10 years his senior. They were divorced in 1966. Weir died in 1968 from brain cancer. Kosiński was left nothing in her will. He later fictionalized this marriage in his novel Blind Date speaking of Weir under pseudonym Mary-Jane Kirkland. Kosiński went on to marry Katherina "Kiki" von Fraunhofer, a marketing consultant and descendant of Bavarian aristocracy. They met in 1968.
Kosiński suffered from multiple illnesses towards the end of his life, and was under attack from journalists who alleged he was a plagiarist. By the time he reached his late 50s, Kosiński was suffering from an irregular heartbeat as well as severe physical and nervous exhaustion. Kosiński committed suicide on May 3, 1991, by taking a fatal dose of barbiturates. His parting suicide note read: "I am going to put myself to sleep now for a bit longer than usual. Call it Eternity".
After World War II, Kosiński remained with his parents in Poland, moved to Jelenia Góra, and earned degrees in history and political science at the University of Łódź. He worked as an assistant in Institute of History and Sociology at the Polish Academy of Sciences. In 1957, he emigrated to the United States, creating a fake foundation which supposedly sponsored him; he later claimed that the letters from eminent Polish communist authorities guaranteeing his loyal return, which were needed for anyone leaving the communist country at that time, had all been forged by him.
After taking odd jobs to get by, such as driving a truck, Kosiński graduated from Columbia University, and in 1965 he became an American citizen. He received grants from Guggenheim Fellowship in 1967, Ford Foundation in 1968, and the American Academy in 1970, which allowed him to write a political non-fiction book, opening new doors of opportunity. In the States he became a lecturer at Yale, Princeton, Davenport University, and Wesleyan.
In 1962 Kosiński married Mary Hayward Weir who was 10 years his senior. They were divorced in 1966. Weir died in 1968 from brain cancer. Kosiński was left nothing in her will. He later fictionalized this marriage in his novel Blind Date speaking of Weir under pseudonym Mary-Jane Kirkland. Kosiński went on to marry Katherina "Kiki" von Fraunhofer, a marketing consultant and descendant of Bavarian aristocracy. They met in 1968.
Kosiński suffered from multiple illnesses towards the end of his life, and was under attack from journalists who alleged he was a plagiarist. By the time he reached his late 50s, Kosiński was suffering from an irregular heartbeat as well as severe physical and nervous exhaustion. Kosiński committed suicide on May 3, 1991, by taking a fatal dose of barbiturates. His parting suicide note read: "I am going to put myself to sleep now for a bit longer than usual. Call it Eternity".
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
April 26, 2016
How could you, the late Mr. Kosinski, write a 300-page novel about polo and sex and not have anyone in it being beaten on the ass with a riding crop?
I mean, seriously.
Passion Play is bad -- but one of the best bad novels I've read. It inhabits that tiny area in the interlocking circles of literature where the great and the bad overlap. Ostensibly a serious book about the onset of male impotence, loss of virility and control of the destiny of one's life, the book becomes a frustrating mess of unneeded melodramatic tangents and digressions and at one point even has a flashback within a flashback.
The story follows a manly loner, Fabian, an aging polo player and noted equestrian author, as he travels across country in his oversize RV sex wagon with trusty horses in tow, futilely trying to find work in the polo industry (not kidding, folks; and not surprisingly, Fabian finds few takers), a field from which he seems shut out and estranged due to his bad boy image and aversion to teamwork. Manslaughter is in his past, too. Either by accident or in a fit of jealous rage he kills his best friend, a tycoon's heir named Eugene Stanhope, in a pick-up game of polo.
In his adventures, there is much casual sex, and once in awhile, it seems, a dip into the well of the younger stuff. He consciously scans equestrian magazines for underaged riders to whom he can sell his riding instruction services, one of which seems to include hymen breaking.
Actually, despite the come-on cover, showing a young girl in her slip on a hobby horse spreading her legs for a horseman, there is only one actual scene in the book of illegal sex, and in that one the cherry is untouched. The rest of his adventures in that realm are implied.
The girl in question is Vanessa Stanhope (who's identified as a minor but whose age is never stated, though I'm guessing about 16 based on clues in the book), heiress and niece of Eugene, the guy Fabian killed supposedly by accident. Rather unbelievably, Fabian is hired to be Vanessa's riding instructor. It is only later in the story that Vanessa submits herself fully to Fabian, by which time she is of age. Her love for him, despite their separation, makes up a good deal of the latter part of the book. But getting to their first meeting doesn't happen until the book is more than half over.
Along the way, there are duplicitous women, ominous meetings in leather-chaired drawing rooms among cigar-smoking men, a ridiculous and unnecessary Latin American sojourn in which one character is murdered by use of tarantula, illegal immigrant sex slavery, fun with trannies, S&M sex using horse apparati, statutory rape, suicide, cruelty to horses, and a blatantly gratuitous and lengthy scene in a sex club modeled after the infamous Plato's Retreat of NYC. There's even an episode in which one of Fabian's fly-by lovers is a black girl passing for white; it's like something from a 1940s novel.
The book is filled with many lengthy descriptions of polo matches and equestrian events, made more violent than they actually are; in fact the first hundred pages are so densely packed with them that many non-inclined readers will probably bail from boredom.
Kosinski is at his best when the book ruminates on issues of aging and how one chooses to live one's life. Fabian, despite his amorality, does have a kind of code of honor, he never sells out and sticks doggedly to his free way of life, even when the opportunities of money and domestic comfort are offered him.
The sensuality of horses, horse riding and the feeling of kinship with horses is explored a little, but even more so is examined many of the cruel practices used to train horses. Fabian and by extension Kosinski use their platforms to decry these barbaric and painful tortures.
The book often contains passages of beautiful writing, bafflingly interspersed with banal stretches. Possible ghostwriting might account for this discrepancy, a charge -- along with plagiarism -- that dogged Kosinski in the later years of his life and which led to the tanking of his once-high literary reputation. Many passages in this novel are overwritten for my taste; it takes a whole page for Kosinski to describe Fabian looking at a bank check, for instance.
The ending of the book is crassly melodramatic, yet still ambiguous. It seems to have been penned for Hollywood.
Despite the enormous flaws and ludicrousness of much of this novel -- or perhaps because of them -- this damned book was a page turner.
I mean, seriously.
Passion Play is bad -- but one of the best bad novels I've read. It inhabits that tiny area in the interlocking circles of literature where the great and the bad overlap. Ostensibly a serious book about the onset of male impotence, loss of virility and control of the destiny of one's life, the book becomes a frustrating mess of unneeded melodramatic tangents and digressions and at one point even has a flashback within a flashback.
The story follows a manly loner, Fabian, an aging polo player and noted equestrian author, as he travels across country in his oversize RV sex wagon with trusty horses in tow, futilely trying to find work in the polo industry (not kidding, folks; and not surprisingly, Fabian finds few takers), a field from which he seems shut out and estranged due to his bad boy image and aversion to teamwork. Manslaughter is in his past, too. Either by accident or in a fit of jealous rage he kills his best friend, a tycoon's heir named Eugene Stanhope, in a pick-up game of polo.
In his adventures, there is much casual sex, and once in awhile, it seems, a dip into the well of the younger stuff. He consciously scans equestrian magazines for underaged riders to whom he can sell his riding instruction services, one of which seems to include hymen breaking.
Actually, despite the come-on cover, showing a young girl in her slip on a hobby horse spreading her legs for a horseman, there is only one actual scene in the book of illegal sex, and in that one the cherry is untouched. The rest of his adventures in that realm are implied.
The girl in question is Vanessa Stanhope (who's identified as a minor but whose age is never stated, though I'm guessing about 16 based on clues in the book), heiress and niece of Eugene, the guy Fabian killed supposedly by accident. Rather unbelievably, Fabian is hired to be Vanessa's riding instructor. It is only later in the story that Vanessa submits herself fully to Fabian, by which time she is of age. Her love for him, despite their separation, makes up a good deal of the latter part of the book. But getting to their first meeting doesn't happen until the book is more than half over.
Along the way, there are duplicitous women, ominous meetings in leather-chaired drawing rooms among cigar-smoking men, a ridiculous and unnecessary Latin American sojourn in which one character is murdered by use of tarantula, illegal immigrant sex slavery, fun with trannies, S&M sex using horse apparati, statutory rape, suicide, cruelty to horses, and a blatantly gratuitous and lengthy scene in a sex club modeled after the infamous Plato's Retreat of NYC. There's even an episode in which one of Fabian's fly-by lovers is a black girl passing for white; it's like something from a 1940s novel.
The book is filled with many lengthy descriptions of polo matches and equestrian events, made more violent than they actually are; in fact the first hundred pages are so densely packed with them that many non-inclined readers will probably bail from boredom.
Kosinski is at his best when the book ruminates on issues of aging and how one chooses to live one's life. Fabian, despite his amorality, does have a kind of code of honor, he never sells out and sticks doggedly to his free way of life, even when the opportunities of money and domestic comfort are offered him.
The sensuality of horses, horse riding and the feeling of kinship with horses is explored a little, but even more so is examined many of the cruel practices used to train horses. Fabian and by extension Kosinski use their platforms to decry these barbaric and painful tortures.
The book often contains passages of beautiful writing, bafflingly interspersed with banal stretches. Possible ghostwriting might account for this discrepancy, a charge -- along with plagiarism -- that dogged Kosinski in the later years of his life and which led to the tanking of his once-high literary reputation. Many passages in this novel are overwritten for my taste; it takes a whole page for Kosinski to describe Fabian looking at a bank check, for instance.
The ending of the book is crassly melodramatic, yet still ambiguous. It seems to have been penned for Hollywood.
Despite the enormous flaws and ludicrousness of much of this novel -- or perhaps because of them -- this damned book was a page turner.
April 12, 2015
"A brutal excess of case histories that passed the bounds of credibility." This quote, by Kosinski himself in Passion Play, might serve as a description of the book. Passion Play is about a man named Fabian - we never get his first name - a fifty-something horseman who has the odd occupation of trucking two polo ponies around the country in his Vanhome in order to challenge wealthy players to one-on-one "stick and ball" competitions. It's virtually impossible to imagine such a man finding enough people to make money doing this, but somehow Fabian does. Or he really doesn't. Passion Play is mainly a series of flashbacks, in which Fabian, among other things, "accidentally" kills his best friend and rival for his lover, has a strange interlude with a South American dictator who tries to set him up with the beautiful wife of a dissenting journalist, involves himself with a plain, fat woman who kills herself over him, has a couple of wild sado-masochistic flings with young horsewomen, and so on. Kosinski has an odd way of setting up stories that seem to be going somewhere, then just end, after which he goes on to another story, all of which center, in an almost obsessive way, on Fabian. The book is saved, in some ways, in its final third, when it gets into Fabian's heartbreaking romance with a very young (Kosinski teases the reader to decide if she's underage) riding student who happens to be the niece of the man he killed. This is Vanessa Stanhope, whom Fabian introduces first to the complexities of advanced horseback riding, then to the greater complexities of sex as Fabian practices it. He engages in every form of heterosexual play imaginable, all connected somehow with horses and their tack. Much of the sex seems overwritten and overly detailed, curiously detached from anything called passion. Nevertheless, Fabian gets Vanessa to fall madly, tragically in love with him, and the end is not, to put it mildly, of the Hollywood sort. Passion Play is a glorious mess of a book, and it can seem to have been written by more than one hand, which is the very charge that ruined the career of Jerzy Kosinski, leading him to suicide at the age of 57. Before that, he had one of the most brilliant, successful runs of any novelist of his time. Passion Play was written around the time the critical establishment was going after him, and it's impossible not to see the curious twists and turns of Fabian's life as some kind of allegory of Kosinski's. The writing is uneven, but often overwhelming. It verges on overwriting, sometimes crosses the line, but still contains pages of some of the most evocative prose ever written in this country. When you finish the first third of the book, you will know what it's like to play polo at the highest level, perhaps more than you want to know. Passion Play is in essence a picaresque novel about a man who must live on the road yet touches people he encounters in all kinds of ways, sometimes deeply. Despite its disjointed, often unbelievable plot, it has terrific emotional impact, much like Fabian himself. Or Jerzy Kosinski.
August 28, 2024
Just sixteen years after the apocalyptic WWII phantasmagoria of his debut The Painted Bird, where all humanity seems to teeter on its bleakest impulses, Jerzy Kosinski, perhaps tempered by time and success in America, produced Passion Play, an episodic saga of an itinerant solo polo player and his conquests on and off the polo field. My copy is the mass market paperback edition, and it looks like complete trash.
Protagonist Fabian roams America in his VanHome (never a "mobile home", is there a difference?), engages in one-on-one polo duels, drifts between echelons of society he's never at home in, and scours the pages of riding magazines for profiles on very young women to target for seduction. He's a predator, but also the archetypal lonely romantic hero, and the two strike a very uneasy relationship. All Kozinski's novels (I suspect, I've only read three) chart courses across landscapes of moral uncertainty (the bizarre essay stuck at the end, seemingly to justify and contextualize the novel in Kosinski's life, describes them as "morally challenging"), but this is less starkly nightmarish than The Painted Bird, without the deliberately honed ambiguity of the compromised narrators in Steps. Instead, it borders pure male gaze erotica. Yet he's also at pains to situate all of this within an Amercian landscape explicitly marred by slavery and genocide. The holocaust echoes through a scene where ranchers massacre a vast herd of wild horses just to reduce competition for resources with their own cattle. The world of show horses with perfect gaits is a product of terrible cruelties towards the animals they vaunt. Beneath the main narrative threads, everything is wrong, but recognizing this can't fix those threads. Part of Kosinski's game is to let readers assume that the protagonist is purely autobiographical, to invest this proxy with parts of his being and thoughts, but then to force the reader to question these identifications. But how much is a provocation and how much is a defense?
In all of this, though, Kosinski startled me with one part of his treatment of gender. There's a transwoman character, never misgendered, and if she's an underdeveloped object of male gaze, it's exactly the same male gaze as that to which every other women in the novel is subjected. When a cis-het businessman wonders if his attraction for a transgender woman means he's homosexual, the protagonist sanguinely remarks that gender lacked even a clear legal definition, so why should it possibly make a difference personally? It's not the most nuanced treatment, but it's surprising for 1979...and as Kosinski shows considerably less confusion about gender identity than that awful Ricky Gervais Netflix show bit decades later, now seems like a great time to change my avatar after 15 years on here. Farewell androgynous new wave Ricky Gervais. Have, instead, some ruins shaped like an owl.
Protagonist Fabian roams America in his VanHome (never a "mobile home", is there a difference?), engages in one-on-one polo duels, drifts between echelons of society he's never at home in, and scours the pages of riding magazines for profiles on very young women to target for seduction. He's a predator, but also the archetypal lonely romantic hero, and the two strike a very uneasy relationship. All Kozinski's novels (I suspect, I've only read three) chart courses across landscapes of moral uncertainty (the bizarre essay stuck at the end, seemingly to justify and contextualize the novel in Kosinski's life, describes them as "morally challenging"), but this is less starkly nightmarish than The Painted Bird, without the deliberately honed ambiguity of the compromised narrators in Steps. Instead, it borders pure male gaze erotica. Yet he's also at pains to situate all of this within an Amercian landscape explicitly marred by slavery and genocide. The holocaust echoes through a scene where ranchers massacre a vast herd of wild horses just to reduce competition for resources with their own cattle. The world of show horses with perfect gaits is a product of terrible cruelties towards the animals they vaunt. Beneath the main narrative threads, everything is wrong, but recognizing this can't fix those threads. Part of Kosinski's game is to let readers assume that the protagonist is purely autobiographical, to invest this proxy with parts of his being and thoughts, but then to force the reader to question these identifications. But how much is a provocation and how much is a defense?
In all of this, though, Kosinski startled me with one part of his treatment of gender. There's a transwoman character, never misgendered, and if she's an underdeveloped object of male gaze, it's exactly the same male gaze as that to which every other women in the novel is subjected. When a cis-het businessman wonders if his attraction for a transgender woman means he's homosexual, the protagonist sanguinely remarks that gender lacked even a clear legal definition, so why should it possibly make a difference personally? It's not the most nuanced treatment, but it's surprising for 1979...and as Kosinski shows considerably less confusion about gender identity than that awful Ricky Gervais Netflix show bit decades later, now seems like a great time to change my avatar after 15 years on here. Farewell androgynous new wave Ricky Gervais. Have, instead, some ruins shaped like an owl.
April 6, 2009
Took me FOREVER to finish it. I just didn't care about the main character at all. It's still beautifully written like all of Kosinski's other works, but it's about *polo*, for crying out loud. I just didn't freakin care. However, I must give him an extra star for the way he rendered all (and there were a lot) his sex scenes. Holy cow. I needed a cold shower.
January 10, 2010
You'll remember this book for quite a while after reading it. What does a manipulative pervert do when he faces old age? Does he sculpt the flawed rich girl into the creature who will satisfy his carnal desires for his later years, or does he let her go as a true act of love and ride into the sunset like a modern cowboy at heart? Read the book and find out.
June 6, 2016
It wanted to be a Lolita on horses, and once in awhile it nearly gets there, but it gets knocked off the saddle too much by building a ridiculous obstacle course of plot. I enjoyed this thing, but it's an equestrian event dreamed up by dressage trainers on coke.
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January 4, 2012Had to struggle a little to get to the end of this somewhat stupid and post-pubescent personal fantasy tale. It was, nevertheless, somewhat engaging.
May 14, 2023
I enjoyed the book for the writing style and the off-beat protagonist.
Passion Play by Jerzy Kosinski is a postmodern novel that explores themes of identity, deception, and the human condition. The novel is part of the larger genre of postmodern literature, which emerged in the mid-20th century as a reaction to the modernist movement. Postmodern literature is characterized by its self-reflexivity, intertextuality, and an emphasis on language and storytelling as opposed to objective truth.
The higher purpose of postmodern literature, including Passion Play, is to challenge traditional literary conventions and question the nature of reality. This is achieved through the use of unconventional narrative techniques, such as fragmented storytelling, non-linear timelines, and unreliable narrators. The genre encourages readers to question their own assumptions about the world and consider alternative perspectives.
Passion Play is a notable example of postmodern literature due to its use of multiple narrators and nonlinear storytelling. The novel follows the story of Fabian, a man who is constantly reinventing his identity to escape his past. Throughout the novel, the reader is never sure which version of Fabian is the "real" one, and the narrative is intentionally ambiguous.
To enhance one's understanding of the story, it may be helpful to read other postmodern novels, such as Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49 or Don DeLillo's White Noise. These works share similar themes and narrative techniques with Passion Play and can provide context for the genre as a whole.
Social and cultural influences can be seen in Passion Play, particularly in its exploration of identity and the construction of self. The novel was published in 1979, a time when traditional notions of identity and social roles were being challenged. This can be seen in the character of Fabian, who constantly reinvents himself and rejects traditional social expectations.
Overall, Passion Play is a complex and challenging work of postmodern literature that explores themes of identity, deception, and the nature of reality. By questioning traditional narrative conventions and encouraging readers to consider alternative perspectives, the novel challenges readers to think critically about their own assumptions and beliefs.
Passion Play by Jerzy Kosinski is a postmodern novel that explores themes of identity, deception, and the human condition. The novel is part of the larger genre of postmodern literature, which emerged in the mid-20th century as a reaction to the modernist movement. Postmodern literature is characterized by its self-reflexivity, intertextuality, and an emphasis on language and storytelling as opposed to objective truth.
The higher purpose of postmodern literature, including Passion Play, is to challenge traditional literary conventions and question the nature of reality. This is achieved through the use of unconventional narrative techniques, such as fragmented storytelling, non-linear timelines, and unreliable narrators. The genre encourages readers to question their own assumptions about the world and consider alternative perspectives.
Passion Play is a notable example of postmodern literature due to its use of multiple narrators and nonlinear storytelling. The novel follows the story of Fabian, a man who is constantly reinventing his identity to escape his past. Throughout the novel, the reader is never sure which version of Fabian is the "real" one, and the narrative is intentionally ambiguous.
To enhance one's understanding of the story, it may be helpful to read other postmodern novels, such as Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49 or Don DeLillo's White Noise. These works share similar themes and narrative techniques with Passion Play and can provide context for the genre as a whole.
Social and cultural influences can be seen in Passion Play, particularly in its exploration of identity and the construction of self. The novel was published in 1979, a time when traditional notions of identity and social roles were being challenged. This can be seen in the character of Fabian, who constantly reinvents himself and rejects traditional social expectations.
Overall, Passion Play is a complex and challenging work of postmodern literature that explores themes of identity, deception, and the nature of reality. By questioning traditional narrative conventions and encouraging readers to consider alternative perspectives, the novel challenges readers to think critically about their own assumptions and beliefs.
February 7, 2010
Fabian decided to get a haircut, and it it up to the reader to find out if he'll get it or not. The aging polo player, one of the very best, author of books on the topic and internationally recognized polo celebrity, roams the world in his VanHome with the company of two beloved polo horses - Big Lick and Gaited Amble. He is trying to come to terms with his fading fame and sexuality, strives for sensations, tests, judges and observes - himself and other people. Will Fabian find his true self? will he get a haircut? find out!
July 8, 2019
4/5. Poleg Obarvane ptice v slovenskem prevodu obstaja le še Igra strasti, ki je bila v izvirniku izdana v času, ko je Kosinski navkljub senci plagiatorstva še užival sloves priljubljenega ameriškega pisatelja in vseh ugodnosti literarne slave. Kosinski je vselej (pre)močno zabrisoval meje med avtobiografskimi zapisi in fikcijo - v Igri strasti se predstavi kot samotarski učitelj jahanja in drzni igralec pola, ki ga privlačna mamljivost normalnega družinskega življenja tem bolj oddaljuje v nove kraje bežnih poznanstev in še bolj bežnih, navidez trajnih ljubezni.
July 17, 2012
Unadmirable hero Fabian drives a VanHome around the country playing polo and women. Like other books by Kosinski, it stays exciting with succinct use of words. It is amazing how the author makes a hero out of these characters. At the end of this book, Fabian finds that he has kept his mobile lifestyle and passed up all his other dreams when he says good-bye to the perfect girl for him. It is a depressing book that reads fast. Very enjoyable.
February 1, 2010
This was a TERRIBLE book. So, bad that it holds the worst book club pick record for my book club! If I could rate it below 1 star, I would. Bordered on pornographic --even child pornographic. Kosinski apparently had lots of ghostwriters that he didn't give credit to--making his writing very inconsistent..................
November 2, 2020
The critics drool about the fable male hero, independent of course, flawed, but in a charming way, mixes violence with love/lust, etc. I see a heap of cruelty and selfishness. The modern phrase is toxic masculinity. Also, at times seriously vying for the Bad Sex Fiction Award.
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February 10, 2009Gripping, mindboggling.
January 13, 2011
This gets as far out there as a reader needs or wants but, Kosinski's characters are neon in a glut of black and white derivatives.
July 5, 2016
Yes, it is disjointed - perhaps not the best stylistic choice. But I believe it was deliberate, and I enjoyed every word. I found his descriptions of polo and horses Hemingway-esque, which I loved.
Read
December 23, 2012La trama es bastante lenta, a pesar de eso, el contenido del libro, trata o toca temas algo controversiales aún hoy. Así que vale la pena leerlo.
March 2, 2015
huhn
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August 11, 2025Kipi z tego postmodernistyczny cynizm okraszony rewolucją seksualną. Oś powieści to seks i konie. Czasem seks na koniach. Główny bohater jest obrzydliwy, ale w swojej degrengoladzie intrygujący. Swoim samotniczym trybem życia, niechęcią do odgadywania motywów własnych czynów, które woli analizować tylko na podstawie ich konsekwencji, przemyśleniami na temat każdej dziedziny życia, które pewnie tak czy siak sprowadzają się do koni i seksu, z początku przypomina Patricka Batemana, który zamiast do banku trafił na boisko polo. Fabian jest jednak bardziej pożądliwy i, w ten swój postmodernistyczny, pozbawiony moralności sposób, romantyczny. Kosiński często odnosi się do średniowiecznych toposów rycerstwa.
Zaczynając książkę, która ma ciekawą, nieco efemeryczną, płynną strukturę -- przeszłość miesza się z teraźniejszością za sprawą niczym nie wytłuszczonych retrospekcji, których umieszczenie w czasie zależy od czytelnika -- myślałam, że autor celowo maluje bohatera nie tylko na cynika, amoralnego kasanowę autostrady, ale też na wyzutego z sumienia przestępcę, celowo. Dzięki rozmieszczeniu retrospekcji dowiadujemy się rzeczy o Fabianie w równym, rozciągniętym tempie, które przez pierwszą połowę książki dostarcza ciągłych ciosów w brzuch. Bohater jest pedofilem z prawdziwego zdarzenia -- nie tylko kokietuje on swoje uczennice na skraju osiemnastki, ale w pewnym momencie dywaguje nad "adopcją" czternastoletniej, latynoskiej dziewczynki, która za sobą najpewniej ma już długi ciąg "adopcyjnych" ojczulków.
Pod żadnym pozorem nie jestem moralizatorem literatury, aczkolwiek Kosiński zdaje się uznawać takie relacje za zgoła naturalne. Od czasu lektury patrzę na sprawę Polańskiego, dobrego kolegi Kosińskiego, oskarżonego o seks z nastolatką, w innym świetle.
Myślałam zatem, że autor świadomie czyni bohatera śmieciem ludzkim -- druga połowa książki przeistacza się jednak w rycerski, szarmancki romans między Fabianem a dawną uczennicą, która zawszę ochoczo, niezależnie czy jest małolatą czy osiemnastką wchodzącą w dorosłość, z chęcią mu daje. Ich namiętny seks przyprószony jest fizozofią i zmysłową metafizyką, odnajdywaniem siebie za błoną dziewiczą partnerki. Sprowadza się jednak do żenującej ilości męskiej fantazji, ale przy okazji -- prawdziwej miłości! Na przestrzeni powieści czytamy o szczegółach jego stosunków, płciowych czy też nie, z bodaj tuzinem kobiet -- modelkami, amazonkami, a także transseksualistkami. Jednak w tle tych wszystkich romansów, trwała jedna, szczera miłość, między pięćdziesięciolatkiem a jego małolatą, w którym oboje rzucają się sobie w ramiona.
Zdaję sobie sprawę, że mój słowotok zapewne jest pełny jest buzzwordowego pustosłowia -- jednak tylko w taki sposób można wypowiedzieć się o równie pustym rdzeniu "Pasji". Przyznaję, dopóki na pierwszy plan nie wybija się dziewicza "szparka", jest ona zaskakująco ciekawa. Autor w odpowiednim tempie, wskazując na swój kunszt storytellingu, odsłania coraz to ciekawsze i bardziej szalone fakty -- z morderstwem w trakcie gry polo na czele. Później jednak wszystko jest zniweczone, bo nasz postmodernistyczny Rolland jest tak zajebisty, że brat zamordowanego nie ma Fabianowi nic za złe -- nawet tego, że obracał jego nastoletnią córą.
Nie można też zaprzeczyć, że Kosiński jest znakomitym pisarzem. Pomijając ilość talentu, która wymagana była, bym w napięciu przesuwała kolejne kartki tej męskiej epopei seksualno-końskiej, to opisy gry w polo są jednymi z najlepszych, najbardziej dynamicznych opisów walki we współczesnej literaturze. Tak, walki! Bo mieszanką ego i talentu autor zdolał przelać w sport dla snobów tyle energii i fascynacji, że zgodnie z jego zamiarem, boisko z bandą ubranych w ciasne bryczesy graczy przeistacza się w średniowieczne pole bitwy.
Nie sądzę, by pisząc o "Pasji" dało się wymyślić jakąś pointę. Kosiński był i jest ewenementem -- w literaturze, w społeczności pisarzy, w amerykańskiej śmietance. I niech taki zostanie, trochę nieodgadniony. I przy okazji totalnie obleśny, z łbem będącym zagadką dla samego Freuda.
Zaczynając książkę, która ma ciekawą, nieco efemeryczną, płynną strukturę -- przeszłość miesza się z teraźniejszością za sprawą niczym nie wytłuszczonych retrospekcji, których umieszczenie w czasie zależy od czytelnika -- myślałam, że autor celowo maluje bohatera nie tylko na cynika, amoralnego kasanowę autostrady, ale też na wyzutego z sumienia przestępcę, celowo. Dzięki rozmieszczeniu retrospekcji dowiadujemy się rzeczy o Fabianie w równym, rozciągniętym tempie, które przez pierwszą połowę książki dostarcza ciągłych ciosów w brzuch. Bohater jest pedofilem z prawdziwego zdarzenia -- nie tylko kokietuje on swoje uczennice na skraju osiemnastki, ale w pewnym momencie dywaguje nad "adopcją" czternastoletniej, latynoskiej dziewczynki, która za sobą najpewniej ma już długi ciąg "adopcyjnych" ojczulków.
Pod żadnym pozorem nie jestem moralizatorem literatury, aczkolwiek Kosiński zdaje się uznawać takie relacje za zgoła naturalne. Od czasu lektury patrzę na sprawę Polańskiego, dobrego kolegi Kosińskiego, oskarżonego o seks z nastolatką, w innym świetle.
Myślałam zatem, że autor świadomie czyni bohatera śmieciem ludzkim -- druga połowa książki przeistacza się jednak w rycerski, szarmancki romans między Fabianem a dawną uczennicą, która zawszę ochoczo, niezależnie czy jest małolatą czy osiemnastką wchodzącą w dorosłość, z chęcią mu daje. Ich namiętny seks przyprószony jest fizozofią i zmysłową metafizyką, odnajdywaniem siebie za błoną dziewiczą partnerki. Sprowadza się jednak do żenującej ilości męskiej fantazji, ale przy okazji -- prawdziwej miłości! Na przestrzeni powieści czytamy o szczegółach jego stosunków, płciowych czy też nie, z bodaj tuzinem kobiet -- modelkami, amazonkami, a także transseksualistkami. Jednak w tle tych wszystkich romansów, trwała jedna, szczera miłość, między pięćdziesięciolatkiem a jego małolatą, w którym oboje rzucają się sobie w ramiona.
Zdaję sobie sprawę, że mój słowotok zapewne jest pełny jest buzzwordowego pustosłowia -- jednak tylko w taki sposób można wypowiedzieć się o równie pustym rdzeniu "Pasji". Przyznaję, dopóki na pierwszy plan nie wybija się dziewicza "szparka", jest ona zaskakująco ciekawa. Autor w odpowiednim tempie, wskazując na swój kunszt storytellingu, odsłania coraz to ciekawsze i bardziej szalone fakty -- z morderstwem w trakcie gry polo na czele. Później jednak wszystko jest zniweczone, bo nasz postmodernistyczny Rolland jest tak zajebisty, że brat zamordowanego nie ma Fabianowi nic za złe -- nawet tego, że obracał jego nastoletnią córą.
Nie można też zaprzeczyć, że Kosiński jest znakomitym pisarzem. Pomijając ilość talentu, która wymagana była, bym w napięciu przesuwała kolejne kartki tej męskiej epopei seksualno-końskiej, to opisy gry w polo są jednymi z najlepszych, najbardziej dynamicznych opisów walki we współczesnej literaturze. Tak, walki! Bo mieszanką ego i talentu autor zdolał przelać w sport dla snobów tyle energii i fascynacji, że zgodnie z jego zamiarem, boisko z bandą ubranych w ciasne bryczesy graczy przeistacza się w średniowieczne pole bitwy.
Nie sądzę, by pisząc o "Pasji" dało się wymyślić jakąś pointę. Kosiński był i jest ewenementem -- w literaturze, w społeczności pisarzy, w amerykańskiej śmietance. I niech taki zostanie, trochę nieodgadniony. I przy okazji totalnie obleśny, z łbem będącym zagadką dla samego Freuda.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 27, 2021
Meandering and pointless
I have been reading Kosinski for over thirty years now and familiar with his style–— or at least that of those who assisted in writing these novels. There is seldom anything resembling a plot. The closest was Pinball, which until reading Passion Play I thought his worst. Most of his better novels have either a compelling central character or some sort of theme which ties these fragmentary scenes together. In Passion Play there is nothing. Fabian is the most dull and uncharismatic of all his novels. From the beginning to the end he is probably the most egotistical character, despite being an older man who travels the country in his VanHome with a couple horses in tow the women he encounters usually find him irresistible. I cannot help but think Kosinski was this level narcissistic. There is usually plenty of sex and violence in his novels and there is plenty of the latter but it reads like really bad romantic fiction, overheated and silly. I will often reread his novels every few years but one reading of Passion Play is more than enough for me. If you are a fan of his (or their) writing I guess it's worth reading. It's not bad, but after Being There, Painted Bird, and my favourite Blind Date, it is disappointing.
I have been reading Kosinski for over thirty years now and familiar with his style–— or at least that of those who assisted in writing these novels. There is seldom anything resembling a plot. The closest was Pinball, which until reading Passion Play I thought his worst. Most of his better novels have either a compelling central character or some sort of theme which ties these fragmentary scenes together. In Passion Play there is nothing. Fabian is the most dull and uncharismatic of all his novels. From the beginning to the end he is probably the most egotistical character, despite being an older man who travels the country in his VanHome with a couple horses in tow the women he encounters usually find him irresistible. I cannot help but think Kosinski was this level narcissistic. There is usually plenty of sex and violence in his novels and there is plenty of the latter but it reads like really bad romantic fiction, overheated and silly. I will often reread his novels every few years but one reading of Passion Play is more than enough for me. If you are a fan of his (or their) writing I guess it's worth reading. It's not bad, but after Being There, Painted Bird, and my favourite Blind Date, it is disappointing.
November 6, 2022
Several years ago something compelled me to put Kosinski's Painted Bird on my to read list, even though I had the vague impression that I had already read it and it was highly disturbing. But there it was on my list one day when I was searching for a book to read and it was also on the shelf of my local library, according to their online catalogue. So I popped in to pick it up and of course it wasn't there, but this book by Kosinski was, so I thought I'd try it instead. After the first two chapters, reading his style, I realized that I had indeed read the Painted Bird, but held out hope that this book might not be as disturbing. I was wrong. The only reason I gave it as many as two stars is the beautiful writing and descriptive style. Otherwise it borders on high class pedophilia.
August 8, 2020
Ah...the Seventies. Though the writing style is engaging and some of the descriptions of horsemanship and polo were quite interesting, the bottom line is that I just did not like the protagonist of this novel. He would have fit neatly into a "What sort of man reads Playboy?" ad.
I have read both The Painted Bird and Being There, both of which I enjoyed. This one I did not.
I have read both The Painted Bird and Being There, both of which I enjoyed. This one I did not.
July 27, 2020
Read in 1980. The story of Fabian, Kosinski's most romantic and driven hero.
February 4, 2021
Didn’t like this book as much as his book Being There. Enjoyed his equestrian and equine portions of the book.
March 11, 2021
Did not finish
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December 30, 2025The Epstein files - oops I mean Passion Play by Jerzy Kosinski. I need to be brainwashed after reading this. What the.
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November 9, 2017Passiespel, De Bezige Bij
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