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Diario del ladrón
Diario del ladrón no es tan sólo un diario, pero tampoco se puede considerar únicamente una novela. A caballo sobre la confesión y la crónica, sobre la invención y el deseo, esta obra clave de la producción de Jean Genet arrastra al lector hacia un mundo de vileza y decadencia, admirablemente trascendido gracias a un consciente poderío verbal e imaginativo que el autor maneja con plena conciencia. El protagonista pretende salvarse del mal por el propio mal. Ética y estética del vicio bien podría valer como subtítulo de Diario del ladrón, expresando así la posición que Genet toma ante la vida, necesariamente enfrentado con una sociedad a la que ni quiere ni puede pertenecer.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1949
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14604 people want to read
About the author
Jean Genet
193 books1,230 followersJean Genet was a French novelist, playwright, poet, essayist, and political activist. In his early life he was a vagabond and petty criminal, but he later became a writer and playwright. His work, much of it considered scandalous when it first appeared, is now placed among the classics of modern literature and has been translated and performed throughout the world.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 470 reviews
April 7, 2008
Without a doubt one in a proper life needs to be obsessed with the early Kinks, a love of Howlin' Wolf, read the entire works of Oscar Wilde, to know that there is a big difference between Brian Jones era Rolling Stones to the current Ron Wood years, the love of Charles Shaw brand of wine, and this novel by Jean Genet.
It's a must for every young man and woman to read as a teenager. For old men like me it brings a tear to my eye. And why is it that?
There is something so incredibly romantic about Genet - and it goes beyond the gay or straight world - it's just a great twilight world where these people live. If you haven't read 'The Thief's Journal, do so. It's a great adventure of sorts.
It's a must for every young man and woman to read as a teenager. For old men like me it brings a tear to my eye. And why is it that?
There is something so incredibly romantic about Genet - and it goes beyond the gay or straight world - it's just a great twilight world where these people live. If you haven't read 'The Thief's Journal, do so. It's a great adventure of sorts.
February 25, 2019
Reminiscent of the work of Louis-Ferdinand Céline and Henry Miller, Genet's autobiographical novel which was first published at the mid-point of his career in 1948, stands somewhere between his earlier works of fiction and his later works of drama. It is a long (too long for me) meditation on betrayal, thievery and homosexuality, of which Genet doesn't hold back on, explicitly speaking. For the most part, The Thief's Journal is a fragmented account of Genet’s time spent during the Thirties and early Forties as he travelled around Europe.
We catch glimpses of Genet wandering through Barcelona, Antwerp, Gibraltar, Czechoslovakia, Poland, and their respective lock-ups. It's characters, apart from the main man himself are an allsorts bunch of those who specialize in beggary, buggery, and a mixture of crimes. The activities in which this Motley crew engage in includes thefts, prostitution, drug running, pimping, and dealing counterfeit money. There is love, there is disloyalty and back-stabbing, and there is prison. And after a while things get repetitive, albeit in a different location. However, Genet's writing is difficult to turn away from at times. He simply leaves nothing on the table, and writes from the head, the heart, the guts, and the ejaculatory duct. Sometimes I felt like wanting to go take a hot shower, but that just shows the powerful effect that literature can have on the reader.
This is a work written largely as a work of self-examination, self-justification, and self-creation. Infused with the narrative episodes of the book are long passages of meditation; sometimes these passages take the form of lyrical effusion, sometimes of erotic reverie; sometimes they are disquisitions on the moral and metaphysical themes running throughout the book. Although It was penned in a beautiful and poetic prose, and offers a philosophical viewpoint that not many would dare to commit to, the narrative does get broken up too often, and feels scattered as Genet shifts topics, before cutting back in where he left off before.
Flashes of brilliance here and there, but also much frustration when summing-up. Others I know claim he was a much better dramatist than he was a novelist, but I will need to read more of him before drawing up my own conclusions.
We catch glimpses of Genet wandering through Barcelona, Antwerp, Gibraltar, Czechoslovakia, Poland, and their respective lock-ups. It's characters, apart from the main man himself are an allsorts bunch of those who specialize in beggary, buggery, and a mixture of crimes. The activities in which this Motley crew engage in includes thefts, prostitution, drug running, pimping, and dealing counterfeit money. There is love, there is disloyalty and back-stabbing, and there is prison. And after a while things get repetitive, albeit in a different location. However, Genet's writing is difficult to turn away from at times. He simply leaves nothing on the table, and writes from the head, the heart, the guts, and the ejaculatory duct. Sometimes I felt like wanting to go take a hot shower, but that just shows the powerful effect that literature can have on the reader.
This is a work written largely as a work of self-examination, self-justification, and self-creation. Infused with the narrative episodes of the book are long passages of meditation; sometimes these passages take the form of lyrical effusion, sometimes of erotic reverie; sometimes they are disquisitions on the moral and metaphysical themes running throughout the book. Although It was penned in a beautiful and poetic prose, and offers a philosophical viewpoint that not many would dare to commit to, the narrative does get broken up too often, and feels scattered as Genet shifts topics, before cutting back in where he left off before.
Flashes of brilliance here and there, but also much frustration when summing-up. Others I know claim he was a much better dramatist than he was a novelist, but I will need to read more of him before drawing up my own conclusions.
March 31, 2023
Jean Genet's beautiful poetic memoir, guttural and raw and honest, and also with the most beautiful prose. It's sexually graphic at times, which as as to be expected from a queer classic. But it is also very introspective about this man's thoughts and not just a fascinating window into this time and place as a vagabond in war-era Europe... Tales of love, crime, imprisonment, and more love.
So very French. That is, in a good way
So very French. That is, in a good way
to-read-maybe
December 11, 2015When Fred Sonic Smith told Patti Smith he would take her anywhere in the world, she chose the prison in French Guiana that Genet regretted he was never sent to. Reading Genet is the first of many vain efforts to be half as interesting as Patti Smith.
Want to read
September 10, 2023Published in 1949 this book still serves as The Holy Concordance of Rough Trade. It brilliantly subverts churchy language and ritual for purposes of physical degradation, which often for Genet equalled pleasure. Its language is highly coded. No wonder The Beats adored him. Jack Kerouac being one of the more obvious worshippers.
He's frank and withholds nothing from the reader, no matter how selfish or cruel.
"I felt a curious sweetness; a kind of freedom lightened me, gave my body as it lay on the bed an extraordinary agility. Was that what betrayal was? I had just violently detached myself from an unclean comradeship to which my affectionate nature had been leading me, and I was astonished at thereby feeling great strength. I had just broken with the army, had just shattered the bonds of friendship." (p. 40)
He is an odd melange of motivations, to say the least. This horrible blackness and coming from it, insight, light. I can think of no one else even remotely like him.
He's frank and withholds nothing from the reader, no matter how selfish or cruel.
"I felt a curious sweetness; a kind of freedom lightened me, gave my body as it lay on the bed an extraordinary agility. Was that what betrayal was? I had just violently detached myself from an unclean comradeship to which my affectionate nature had been leading me, and I was astonished at thereby feeling great strength. I had just broken with the army, had just shattered the bonds of friendship." (p. 40)
He is an odd melange of motivations, to say the least. This horrible blackness and coming from it, insight, light. I can think of no one else even remotely like him.
February 18, 2018
Το ανώτερο και όχι το κατώτερο μυαλό υπάρχει κίνδυνος να σκανδαλιστεί από το ύφος αυτού του βιβλίου. Δεν επιδιώκω το σκάνδαλο. Βάζω σε μια τάξη αυτές τις σημειώσεις για να τις βρουν ορισμένοι νεαροί. Θα προτιμούσα να τις θεωρήσουν παρακαταθήκη μιας ασκητικής από τις δύσκολες. Χαρίζει μια απειρία οδυνηρή που εγώ ακόμα δεν την έχω ολοκληρώσει. Τι σημασία έχει ότι ξεκίνησε σαν μυθιστορηματική ονειροπόληση, αφού εγώ την επεξεργάζομαι με την ίδια αυστηρότητα που θα έβαζα για να λύσω ένα μαθηματικό πρόβλημα; Τι σημασία έχει ότι το ξεκίνημά της ήταν αυτό που ήταν, αφού εγώ αντλώ απ’ αυτήν τα υλικά που απαιτούνται για να πλαστεί ένα έργο τέχνης ή για να πραγματωθεί μια ηθική τελείωση (ίσως για να εξουδετερωθούν αυτά τα υλικά, για να καταργηθούν), τελείωση που βρίσκεται πολύ κοντά στην αγιότητα, που για μένα εξακολουθεί να είναι η πιο ωραία λέξη της ανθρώπινης λαλιάς;
Η γραφή του Genet έχει μια επιθετικότητα που κόβει την ανάσα, ένα λαχανιασμένο ρυθμό, την αίσθηση μιας αντεστραμμένης αγιότητας. Το αίσθημα της καταστροφής, ερωτικής και προσωπικής, είναι διάχυτο αντίστοιχα με εκείνο του γενικού αδιεξόδου, ενώ ταυτόχρονα αποκαλύπτεται η κατάσταση του σύγχρονου ανθρώπου, του αρνητικού σε όλα κι εξεγερμένου, του εκτός εαυτού. Ο Sartre είναι εκείνος που παρατηρεί πως κατά την αναζήτηση και την επιθυμία του Κακού για το Κακό, ο Genet έχει εγκλειστεί σε ένα αδιέξοδο, δονείται από αντιφάσεις, αν κι επιδιώκει την Ανέφικτη Μηδαμινότητα, διεκδικεί το είναι για την ύπαρξή του.
Επιθυμώ για μια στιγμή να ρίξω μια διαπεραστική ματιά σ’ αυτό που είναι πραγματικά η κορυφαία ευτυχία που νιώθουμε όταν είμαστε βουτηγμένοι στην απελπισία, όταν δηλαδή είμαστε μόνοι αντιμέτωπο με τον αιφνίδιο χαμό μας, όταν παρακολουθούμε την ανεπανόρθωτη καταστροφή του έργου μας και του εαυτού μας.Σύμφωνα με τον Georges Bataille, το έργο του Jean Genet έχει ως στόχο του την αναζήτηση του κακού και στη διεκδίκηση του κακού είναι που βρίσκεται η αξιοπρέπεια του εξεγερμένου υποκειμένου, καθώς για τον συγγραφέα η αθλιότητα δεν εντοπίζεται στην κοινωνία αλλά στον ίδιο, γιατί ο ελεεινός χαρακτήρας της κοινωνίας έρχεται ως αποτέλεσμα ανθρώπων επιφανειακά διεφθαρμένων.
[…]δηλαδή η ζωή μου πρέπει να είναι ένα συναξάρι, που θα πει να διαβάζεται, κι όταν κάποιος τη διαβάζει, να ζωντανεύει μέσα του μια καινούρια συγκίνηση που την ονομάζω ποίηση. Εγώ πια δεν είμαι τίποτα, ένα πρόσχημα μόνο.Συγχρόνως στον Genet υπάρχει μια θεμελιακή κλίση προς την αγιοσύνη, ζήτημα που σημειώνεται και στον τίτλο που δίνει ο Sartre στο κείμενό του: Saint Genet. Η αγιοσύνη του είναι η αγιοσύνη ενός εξαθλιωμένου ανθρώπου που χαίρεται να προκαλεί το χλευασμό, είναι αυτεξούσιος μόνο μέσα στο Κακό. Σύμφωνα με τον Sartre, ο Genet αγαπά την προδοσία, βλέπει στην προδοσία τον καλύτερο και χειρότερο εαυτό του.
Αγιότητα ονομάζω όχι μια κατάσταση αλλά τον ηθικό αγώνα που κάνω για να φτάσω σ’ αυτήν. Πρόκειται για το νοητό σημείο μιας ηθικής, για το οποίο δεν μπορώ να μιλήσω επειδή δεν το διακρίνω με την όραση. Όταν το πλησιάζω, αυτό απομακρύνεται. Το ποθώ και το φοβάμαι. Ο αγώνας αυτός ίσως δίνει την εντύπωση πως είναι ηλίθιος. Αν και οδυνηρός, είναι γεμάτος χαρά. Είναι παλαβιάρης. Σαν ζουρλός, μεταμορφώνεται σε μια Καρολίνα που ‘χει σηκώσει τα φουστάνια της και ξεφωνίζει από ευτυχία.
February 10, 2017
'The Thief's Journey' is the journey into the strange and unique mind of Jean Genete; itinerant tramp and erstwhile novelist, the poetry of his prose beautifies the banality and brutality of its subject, of theft, violence, betrayal and murder, the depraved world of thieves, pimps and would-be murderers which Genete feels drawn to and is able to find beauty in-or rather, Genet is able to transmute his life and ideas, which upend and contradict normal concepts of herosim, love and beauty, via his art;
"I refused to live for any other end than the one which I found to contain the first misfortune: that my life must be a legend, in other words legible, and must give birth to a certain new emotions which I call poetry. I am no longer anything, only a pretext"
Genet therefore ends up becoming a symbol, a blunt instrument to weave the untold stories of the men who Genet met and loved during his perambulations around Europe, but at the same time art is able to give meaning to his ideas and life. Indeed the beauty of Genet's style saves the novel from the inspidity of the subject matter, transforms the violence of the world around him into something beautiful and eternal:
"The purple of sunsets, according to physicists, is the result of a greater thickness of air which is cross only by short waves. At mid-day, when nothing is happening in the sky, and apparition of this kind would disturb us less; the wonder is that is occurs in the evening, at the most poignant time of the day, when the sun sets, when it disappears to pursue some mysterious destiny, where perhaps it dies. The physical phenomenon that fills the sky with such pomp is possible only at the moment that most exalts the imagination; at the setting of the most brilliant of heavenly bodies."
Genet has now political or social axe to grind in 'The Thief's Journal', his sole goal is to render the world of deprivation he involved himself in into something ever-lasting, something ethereal and touching. It is not my favourite Genet, but it represents what is probably the purest essence of his life and art.
"I refused to live for any other end than the one which I found to contain the first misfortune: that my life must be a legend, in other words legible, and must give birth to a certain new emotions which I call poetry. I am no longer anything, only a pretext"
Genet therefore ends up becoming a symbol, a blunt instrument to weave the untold stories of the men who Genet met and loved during his perambulations around Europe, but at the same time art is able to give meaning to his ideas and life. Indeed the beauty of Genet's style saves the novel from the inspidity of the subject matter, transforms the violence of the world around him into something beautiful and eternal:
"The purple of sunsets, according to physicists, is the result of a greater thickness of air which is cross only by short waves. At mid-day, when nothing is happening in the sky, and apparition of this kind would disturb us less; the wonder is that is occurs in the evening, at the most poignant time of the day, when the sun sets, when it disappears to pursue some mysterious destiny, where perhaps it dies. The physical phenomenon that fills the sky with such pomp is possible only at the moment that most exalts the imagination; at the setting of the most brilliant of heavenly bodies."
Genet has now political or social axe to grind in 'The Thief's Journal', his sole goal is to render the world of deprivation he involved himself in into something ever-lasting, something ethereal and touching. It is not my favourite Genet, but it represents what is probably the purest essence of his life and art.
January 20, 2011
I started out enthusiastic, enticed, and indeed won over by Jean Genet's prose. But the prose only gets more convoluted, and without a clear narrative to boulster it, this collapses under my expectations and hopes for it. I wonder if to read it again in the future would be to take more from it, but I find myself looking forward to the end of it and generally disappointed by my reading. I wanted the nitty-gritty details of the criminal life with the autobiographical clarity of 'Down and Out in Paris and London,' but what I got read like a long, self-exploratory and retrospective poem meets philosophical tract.
I understand this book is considered important, for (as the script on the back points out), Genet was "one of the first writers to openly avow his homosexuality and to see both homosexuality and criminality as legitimate literary subjects, creating in his works the hero-criminal and hero-homosexual."
For this I suppose we're indebted to Genet, and I suspect I might like his other less autobiographical works more. But as is often the case when a new literary trope is generated and expressed, it comes across as too enamoured with itself and too self-conscious. In short, I couldn't relate and engage with the tale because of the way it was told, and I wonder if something wasn't lost in translation to English as well.
In short, while it has some golden vignettes and some intriguing characters, the stuff that binds them together is too thin a soup for me to make a hearty recommendation of this.
I understand this book is considered important, for (as the script on the back points out), Genet was "one of the first writers to openly avow his homosexuality and to see both homosexuality and criminality as legitimate literary subjects, creating in his works the hero-criminal and hero-homosexual."
For this I suppose we're indebted to Genet, and I suspect I might like his other less autobiographical works more. But as is often the case when a new literary trope is generated and expressed, it comes across as too enamoured with itself and too self-conscious. In short, I couldn't relate and engage with the tale because of the way it was told, and I wonder if something wasn't lost in translation to English as well.
In short, while it has some golden vignettes and some intriguing characters, the stuff that binds them together is too thin a soup for me to make a hearty recommendation of this.
March 23, 2022
«Το ημερολόγιο ενός κλέφτη»
Τι να γράψω για τον Ζενέ… ειλικρινά δεν έχω λόγια…
Είναι το δεύτερο βιβλίο του που τελειώνω κ έχω πάλι την ίδια θλίψη… νιώθω την ίδια συμπόνια για έναν άνθρωπο που δε γνωρίζω κ που θα ήθελα να κάτσω μαζί του σε ένα μπαρ κ να μου πει τις ιστορίες του.
Μια ζωή γεμάτη κυνηγητό και πάθη… ένας άνθρωπος εθισμένος στις κλοπές κ στον έρωτα… λάτρευε τους άντρες… βουτηγμένος στον βούρκο, όπως θα έλεγαν μερικοί, που όμως ο ίδιος το γούσταρε. Βίωνε έντονα την κάθε στιγμή, χωρίς να φοβάται, χωρίς να ντρέπεται για τις επιλογές του. Δεν έκρυψε ποτέ τις σκέψεις του κ τα συναισθήματά του. Περιπλανήθηκε σε όλη την Ευρώπη, φυλακίστηκε, αγάπησε αλλά δεν αγαπήθηκε τόσο.
Δεξιοτέχνης στην κλεψιά, για να μπορέσει να ζήσει…κυκλοφορούσε άπλυτος, κουρελής, περνούσε τις ώρες του στα χαμαιτυπεία. Μια ζωή έντονη, με πολλές γνωριμίες, αλλά σίγουρα ο ίδιος στο τέλος ήταν μόνος…
Τι να γράψω για τον Ζενέ… ειλικρινά δεν έχω λόγια…
Είναι το δεύτερο βιβλίο του που τελειώνω κ έχω πάλι την ίδια θλίψη… νιώθω την ίδια συμπόνια για έναν άνθρωπο που δε γνωρίζω κ που θα ήθελα να κάτσω μαζί του σε ένα μπαρ κ να μου πει τις ιστορίες του.
Μια ζωή γεμάτη κυνηγητό και πάθη… ένας άνθρωπος εθισμένος στις κλοπές κ στον έρωτα… λάτρευε τους άντρες… βουτηγμένος στον βούρκο, όπως θα έλεγαν μερικοί, που όμως ο ίδιος το γούσταρε. Βίωνε έντονα την κάθε στιγμή, χωρίς να φοβάται, χωρίς να ντρέπεται για τις επιλογές του. Δεν έκρυψε ποτέ τις σκέψεις του κ τα συναισθήματά του. Περιπλανήθηκε σε όλη την Ευρώπη, φυλακίστηκε, αγάπησε αλλά δεν αγαπήθηκε τόσο.
Δεξιοτέχνης στην κλεψιά, για να μπορέσει να ζήσει…κυκλοφορούσε άπλυτος, κουρελής, περνούσε τις ώρες του στα χαμαιτυπεία. Μια ζωή έντονη, με πολλές γνωριμίες, αλλά σίγουρα ο ίδιος στο τέλος ήταν μόνος…
April 19, 2019
Every so often I come across these books, classics, I should have read already long ago... The Thief's Journal, Jean Genet's iconic and groundbreaking novel, is one them. This latest edition features a new introduction by Patti Smith - the reason I finally got around to reading it, and a perfect complement to the author's pioneering genius.
Genet found love, poetry and lyricism in prison, drawing pride, triumph and reason for glory in the admittance and acceptance of his weaknesses. His life of crime and passion is captured in The Thief's Journal, a story of going down the rabbit hole, of choices and searches, and of what it means to be attracted to the darkness... Where seeing beauty in the unconventional, the underworld, and letting yourself - or part of yourself - take pleasure in the unknown is source of light, and true awakening. For in pain there is also liberation...
"If I cannot have the most brilliant destiny, I want the most wretched, not for the purpose of a sterile solitude, but in order to achieve something new with such rare matter."
Genet found love, poetry and lyricism in prison, drawing pride, triumph and reason for glory in the admittance and acceptance of his weaknesses. His life of crime and passion is captured in The Thief's Journal, a story of going down the rabbit hole, of choices and searches, and of what it means to be attracted to the darkness... Where seeing beauty in the unconventional, the underworld, and letting yourself - or part of yourself - take pleasure in the unknown is source of light, and true awakening. For in pain there is also liberation...
"If I cannot have the most brilliant destiny, I want the most wretched, not for the purpose of a sterile solitude, but in order to achieve something new with such rare matter."
March 6, 2024
My first work by Genet, and I’m already somewhat obsessed.
“Betrayal, theft and homosexuality are the basic subjects of this book. There is a relationship among them which, though not always apparent, at least, so it seems to me, recognises a kind of vascular exchange between my taste for betrayal, theft and my loves.” – Jean Genet
In this largely autobiographical work, Genet takes us back to forgotten days of vagabonds, prostitution and thieves. Set mainly in Barcelona and Paris during the 1930s, but also wandering across many European borders, Genet paints a dangerous, gritty, melancholic and deeply romantic backdrop to explore the early years of his life in crime, poverty and love.
I wasn’t quite ready for how much this book blew me away. Genet’s prose is exquisitely written. As a gay man, there’s something painfully and yet beautifully relatable about this book. I’m no thief, just to be clear, but the torments that Genet writes of are all too easily identifiable. The beauty of longing and romance that has been trodden in the dirt and spat upon.
“No one will misunderstand me if I write: “Betrayal is beautiful,” or will be so cowardly as to think–to pretend to think–that I am talking about cases in which it is necessary and noble, when it makes for the realisation of Good. I was talking of low betrayal. The kind that cannot be justified by any heroic excuse. The sneaky, cringing kind, elicited by the least noble of sentiments: envy, hatred (though a certain ethic dares class hatred among the noble sentiments), greed. It is enough that the betrayer be aware of his betrayal, that he will it, that he be able to break the bonds of love uniting him with mankind. Indispensable for achieving beauty: love. And cruelty shattering that love.”
“Betrayal, theft and homosexuality are the basic subjects of this book. There is a relationship among them which, though not always apparent, at least, so it seems to me, recognises a kind of vascular exchange between my taste for betrayal, theft and my loves.” – Jean Genet
In this largely autobiographical work, Genet takes us back to forgotten days of vagabonds, prostitution and thieves. Set mainly in Barcelona and Paris during the 1930s, but also wandering across many European borders, Genet paints a dangerous, gritty, melancholic and deeply romantic backdrop to explore the early years of his life in crime, poverty and love.
I wasn’t quite ready for how much this book blew me away. Genet’s prose is exquisitely written. As a gay man, there’s something painfully and yet beautifully relatable about this book. I’m no thief, just to be clear, but the torments that Genet writes of are all too easily identifiable. The beauty of longing and romance that has been trodden in the dirt and spat upon.
“No one will misunderstand me if I write: “Betrayal is beautiful,” or will be so cowardly as to think–to pretend to think–that I am talking about cases in which it is necessary and noble, when it makes for the realisation of Good. I was talking of low betrayal. The kind that cannot be justified by any heroic excuse. The sneaky, cringing kind, elicited by the least noble of sentiments: envy, hatred (though a certain ethic dares class hatred among the noble sentiments), greed. It is enough that the betrayer be aware of his betrayal, that he will it, that he be able to break the bonds of love uniting him with mankind. Indispensable for achieving beauty: love. And cruelty shattering that love.”
May 25, 2023
«El asesinato no es el medio más eficaz para llegar al mundo subterráneo de la abyección».
February 3, 2018
Labai poetiškas, savo amoralumu besididžiuojantis (ir ne be reikalo!) pasakojimas
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1) Paprastai personažai, kurie vadinami moraliai ambivalentiškais, būna ne ką įdomesni negu viešųjų ryšių agentūros administruojama kokio politiko facebook anketa. Jų moralinis ambivalentiškumas pasireiškia pagal kelias formules: "vagiu iš turtuolių, kad išmaitinčiau savo vaikelius", "aš skriaudžiu žmones, bet tik objektyviai blogus žmones", "aš maištininkas ir dėjau ant visuomenės, kuri manimi nesirūpina, bet realiai visais vertybiniais klausimais sutarčiau su tavo giminėmis prie kalėdinio stalo".
O Genet personažas, bent jau taip, kaip pristatomas knygoje, TIKRAI moraliai ambivalentiškas. Mėgaujasi, kaip pats sako, nedorybėmis, bet ne dėl jų pačių, o dėl kažkokio estetinio kriterijaus, ypač jį žavi išdavystė.
"Kartą jis manęs paprašė "išduoti" jam savo bendrus. Sutikęs tai padaryti žinojau, jog mano meilė jam taps dar gilesnė, tačiau jums nevalia nieko daugiau sužinoti."
2) Kaip gražiai parašyta ir kaip poetiškai! Ėmiau irgi kažkokį švelnumą jausti tiems jo meilužiams nusikaltėliams, o paprasčiausios detalės irgi dailiai aprašytos:
"Paryčiui, grįžęs į kambarį anksčiau negu jis, laukiau. Tyloje girdėjau paslaptingai šiugždantį pageltusį laikraščio lapą, kuris atstojo išmuštą lango stiklą.
- Kaip subtilu, - tariau sau. <...>
- Šis laikraštis išspausdintas ispaniškai, - dar pamaniau. Tad visai normalu, kad nesuprantu jo keliamo garso."
"Myliu Žavą, nors jis niekšas, ištižėlis, kvailas ir bailus, jo manieros ir jausmai vulgarūs. <...> Dar paminėsiu Žavos fizinę sandarą, jo masyvų, niaurų kūną. <..> Žava žaižaruoja. Jo vandenys ir ugnys kaip tik ir yra ta ypatinga savybė, mano vadinama Žava, kurį myliu. Patikslinu: nemėgstu nei niekšybės, nei kvailumo, tad nemyliu Žavos už tai, kad toks yra, tačiau jų lydinys mane žavi."
---
1) Paprastai personažai, kurie vadinami moraliai ambivalentiškais, būna ne ką įdomesni negu viešųjų ryšių agentūros administruojama kokio politiko facebook anketa. Jų moralinis ambivalentiškumas pasireiškia pagal kelias formules: "vagiu iš turtuolių, kad išmaitinčiau savo vaikelius", "aš skriaudžiu žmones, bet tik objektyviai blogus žmones", "aš maištininkas ir dėjau ant visuomenės, kuri manimi nesirūpina, bet realiai visais vertybiniais klausimais sutarčiau su tavo giminėmis prie kalėdinio stalo".
O Genet personažas, bent jau taip, kaip pristatomas knygoje, TIKRAI moraliai ambivalentiškas. Mėgaujasi, kaip pats sako, nedorybėmis, bet ne dėl jų pačių, o dėl kažkokio estetinio kriterijaus, ypač jį žavi išdavystė.
"Kartą jis manęs paprašė "išduoti" jam savo bendrus. Sutikęs tai padaryti žinojau, jog mano meilė jam taps dar gilesnė, tačiau jums nevalia nieko daugiau sužinoti."
2) Kaip gražiai parašyta ir kaip poetiškai! Ėmiau irgi kažkokį švelnumą jausti tiems jo meilužiams nusikaltėliams, o paprasčiausios detalės irgi dailiai aprašytos:
"Paryčiui, grįžęs į kambarį anksčiau negu jis, laukiau. Tyloje girdėjau paslaptingai šiugždantį pageltusį laikraščio lapą, kuris atstojo išmuštą lango stiklą.
- Kaip subtilu, - tariau sau. <...>
- Šis laikraštis išspausdintas ispaniškai, - dar pamaniau. Tad visai normalu, kad nesuprantu jo keliamo garso."
"Myliu Žavą, nors jis niekšas, ištižėlis, kvailas ir bailus, jo manieros ir jausmai vulgarūs. <...> Dar paminėsiu Žavos fizinę sandarą, jo masyvų, niaurų kūną. <..> Žava žaižaruoja. Jo vandenys ir ugnys kaip tik ir yra ta ypatinga savybė, mano vadinama Žava, kurį myliu. Patikslinu: nemėgstu nei niekšybės, nei kvailumo, tad nemyliu Žavos už tai, kad toks yra, tačiau jų lydinys mane žavi."
July 6, 2023
A book which is dense with inventive prose and creative language. Given the subject matter, it's quite the incongruent accomplishment, to describe a world of such petty theft, prostitution, and underground homosexual activity with so deft a touch. At times the writing can be a little stuttered, often when Genet is going on flights of philosophical fancy, but when he commits to the broader strokes of his European narrative (his youthful life of sexual escapes and adventures), it takes on a genuine note of the lyrically sublime.
The book is a combination of fiction and life writing; a kind of Celine meets Laurie Lee. And like Lee, it begins in Spain before moving briskly around Europe before settling (for the most part) in Belgium. Genet uses his own name and regularly addresses the reader, but admits that his recollections are more interpretation than memory. The vast bulk of the book is confined to Genet's endless ability to fall in love with men at the drop of a hat. He becomes the lover of criminals, policemen, thugs, you name it. And speaks of each encounter as though it's a genuine (and profound) experience of love. I must say... I didn't believe him. In fact, my only criticism of the book would be Genet's constant need to conflate sexual urge with love. And then to wallow in the bizarre narrative that betrayal, promiscuity, and gradual indifference are the truest forms of expressing that love. Yeah, like I said... I didn't believe him. But anyway...
The writing is (mostly) magnificent and Genet's use of language is quite amazing. His life is more interesting than most and he does a good job of capturing a small portion of it here. At times, it was like reading poetry. To quote the man himself: 'I have made it sound heroic because I have within me what is needed to do so, lyricism.'
The book is a combination of fiction and life writing; a kind of Celine meets Laurie Lee. And like Lee, it begins in Spain before moving briskly around Europe before settling (for the most part) in Belgium. Genet uses his own name and regularly addresses the reader, but admits that his recollections are more interpretation than memory. The vast bulk of the book is confined to Genet's endless ability to fall in love with men at the drop of a hat. He becomes the lover of criminals, policemen, thugs, you name it. And speaks of each encounter as though it's a genuine (and profound) experience of love. I must say... I didn't believe him. In fact, my only criticism of the book would be Genet's constant need to conflate sexual urge with love. And then to wallow in the bizarre narrative that betrayal, promiscuity, and gradual indifference are the truest forms of expressing that love. Yeah, like I said... I didn't believe him. But anyway...
The writing is (mostly) magnificent and Genet's use of language is quite amazing. His life is more interesting than most and he does a good job of capturing a small portion of it here. At times, it was like reading poetry. To quote the man himself: 'I have made it sound heroic because I have within me what is needed to do so, lyricism.'
March 23, 2011
"I dared not even notice the beauty of this part of the world- unless it were to look for the secret of this beauty, the imposture behind it, of which one will be a victim if he trusts it. By refusing it, I discovered poetry."
I'm saddened (embarrassed, too) by my two previous attempts to "review" Jean Genet. I don't feel as finger twisted (hah! My hands will never move in harmony with my thoughts) as those other times. So I don't have his poetry. The Thief's Journal spoke to me. Not urgently. I'm still inarticulate but it doesn't feel like I'll get the answers to something if I can just put my finger on the pulse of what is beating within me about this. I have felt that bereftness of my "place" in society, as it is (whatever the hell that is). But I feel it was there in his world just the same as that of those who had two pennies to rub together. So it's really all kind of a lie, isn't it?
Everything that happened to Jean Genet... This is totally fucking obvious. I'm gonna say it anyway. "Yeah, Mariel?" Shut-up, Mariel. All of it happened as he was himself. His tenderness, disgust, shame... The meanings of all those words as they were... What the hell was the meaning, anyway? It wouldn't have been that way through the eyes of others. This is a story of his poetic soul. I know I wouldn't have had that. Did anyone else in his life? I wouldn't take his word... (Damnit. Why did it make that no more Fred Savage rule? I'd do that thing about Kevin Arnold's voice overs. "And we both knew that..." "How did you know they knew that? This girl doesn't look like she gives a shit!")
Our Lady of the Flowers kinda tortured me for what I don't have in me anymore. I have this feeling about 'Flowers' and 'Querelle' that they'll grow in my goose-bumps meter of story love and book relevance as I attach them to other things (life experience not needed. His experience was DEFINITELY enhanced by his romances). That's the thing, right? Maybe giving it yourself is a lot harder than doing it for someone else. I don't know. (Kevin? Does Paul still have that sex book he stole under his shirt? Let's consult it.)
I'm more moved by those painful times. His gift was the poetry. But I felt moved out of "You say" and into looking out of perspectives of (yup, surroundings of beauty and romance) into more than what he was trying to convince himself of. That he chose to be gay to stick it to the man? Lack of "taste"? Hard edges? Softness?
I'm repeating myself all of the time on goodreads. I feel like John Frusciante with his hundreds of songs about regret (I'd listen to them all)... Timelessness. Genet wanted to be all things to all men. The father, preacher, teacher, put your tiny hand in mine. Like moving without stopping. Who would WANT to open their eyes in that life?
It was beautiful when there was no other choice. Like a broken heart. This might grow in my goosebump stable of hos too, if I can forget the lies. I'm interested in this kind of immortality of times that feel like they are gonna be forever. And grief.
"Erotic play discloses a nameless world which is revealed by the nocturnal language of lovers. Such language is not written down. It is whispered into the ear at night in a hoarse voice. At dawn it is forgotten."
"Later on , when, without refusing to get excited about a handsome boy, I applied the same detachment, when I allowed myself to be aroused, and when, refusing the emotion the right to rule me, I examined it with the same lucidity, I realized what my love was; on the basis of this awareness I established relationships with the world; this was the birth of intelligence."
I'm saddened (embarrassed, too) by my two previous attempts to "review" Jean Genet. I don't feel as finger twisted (hah! My hands will never move in harmony with my thoughts) as those other times. So I don't have his poetry. The Thief's Journal spoke to me. Not urgently. I'm still inarticulate but it doesn't feel like I'll get the answers to something if I can just put my finger on the pulse of what is beating within me about this. I have felt that bereftness of my "place" in society, as it is (whatever the hell that is). But I feel it was there in his world just the same as that of those who had two pennies to rub together. So it's really all kind of a lie, isn't it?
Everything that happened to Jean Genet... This is totally fucking obvious. I'm gonna say it anyway. "Yeah, Mariel?" Shut-up, Mariel. All of it happened as he was himself. His tenderness, disgust, shame... The meanings of all those words as they were... What the hell was the meaning, anyway? It wouldn't have been that way through the eyes of others. This is a story of his poetic soul. I know I wouldn't have had that. Did anyone else in his life? I wouldn't take his word... (Damnit. Why did it make that no more Fred Savage rule? I'd do that thing about Kevin Arnold's voice overs. "And we both knew that..." "How did you know they knew that? This girl doesn't look like she gives a shit!")
Our Lady of the Flowers kinda tortured me for what I don't have in me anymore. I have this feeling about 'Flowers' and 'Querelle' that they'll grow in my goose-bumps meter of story love and book relevance as I attach them to other things (life experience not needed. His experience was DEFINITELY enhanced by his romances). That's the thing, right? Maybe giving it yourself is a lot harder than doing it for someone else. I don't know. (Kevin? Does Paul still have that sex book he stole under his shirt? Let's consult it.)
I'm more moved by those painful times. His gift was the poetry. But I felt moved out of "You say" and into looking out of perspectives of (yup, surroundings of beauty and romance) into more than what he was trying to convince himself of. That he chose to be gay to stick it to the man? Lack of "taste"? Hard edges? Softness?
I'm repeating myself all of the time on goodreads. I feel like John Frusciante with his hundreds of songs about regret (I'd listen to them all)... Timelessness. Genet wanted to be all things to all men. The father, preacher, teacher, put your tiny hand in mine. Like moving without stopping. Who would WANT to open their eyes in that life?
It was beautiful when there was no other choice. Like a broken heart. This might grow in my goosebump stable of hos too, if I can forget the lies. I'm interested in this kind of immortality of times that feel like they are gonna be forever. And grief.
"Erotic play discloses a nameless world which is revealed by the nocturnal language of lovers. Such language is not written down. It is whispered into the ear at night in a hoarse voice. At dawn it is forgotten."
"Later on , when, without refusing to get excited about a handsome boy, I applied the same detachment, when I allowed myself to be aroused, and when, refusing the emotion the right to rule me, I examined it with the same lucidity, I realized what my love was; on the basis of this awareness I established relationships with the world; this was the birth of intelligence."
December 8, 2020
"La cárcel brinda al preso el mismo sentimiento de seguridad que un palacio real al invitado de un rey. Son éstos los dos edificios construidos con mayor fe, los que dan mayor certeza de ser lo que son- que son lo que quisieron ser y siguen siéndolo-. La mampostería, los materiales, la arquitectura van de acuerdo con un sistema moral que hace que estas moradas sean indestructibles en tanto perdure la forma social cuyo símbolo son. La cárcel me envuelve en una perfecta garantía. Estoy seguro de que fue construida para mí, junto con el palacio de justicia, sus dependencias, su vestíbulo monumental. Todo allí me está destinado con la mayor formalidad. El rigor, los reglamentos, su inflexibilidad, su precisión proceden de la misma esencia que la corte regia, que la exquisita y tiránica cortesía de la que son objetos sus invitados".
Pocas veces se tiene el placer de leer algo tan hermoso y siniestro como el Diario del ladrón. En él, Genet invoca todos sus artilugios literarios para dotar de belleza y heroizar su vida como ladrón. Más allá del hurto, que viene siendo una mera función, el ladrón es aquel ser que se remueve en las antípodas del mundo; en el otro extremo de ese bienestar edulcorado que pretende vender cierta idea de legalidad. El ladrón, tal como el rey, habitan este mundo bajo el mismo peso; eso sí, sin sentir el mismo yugo. El primero es vapuleado mientras serpentea las calles en procura de su sustento y esa ascesis que Genet enuncia como abyección; mientras que, el segundo, se remueve sus túnicas en la otra cara de la luna, a la sombra del castillo y los banquetes. Ambos cenan de lo mismo, ambos son bufones de esta misma farsa que es el mundo y sus costumbres; sin embargo, ambos experimentan esta vida de forma radicalmente distinta.
Aquí, bajo el frenesí lírico de aquel que reconoce que su vida se ha volcado en ambos escenarios; ya sea como ladrón o escritor de renombre, Genet rememora esa forma de vida particular de aquel que adquiere su santidad a partir del camino de lo abyecto: porque, en últimas, el mundo está hecho de la misma sustancia y los sueños, sin más, no son más que esquirlas que se crepitan al fondo de los ceniceros. Cada ser humano es capaz de redimirse si es capaz de asumir su propia vida...de saberse humano y corroerse de aquellos vicios y virtudes que, por mano propia, cada quien decide sepultar sobre sí mismo. De hecho, tal como reconoce Genet, en esa diferencia maniquea entre buenos y malos se esconde en últimas la cobardía de apreciar el mundo sin su habitual velo de Maya. Al respecto, dice el francés:
"Yo respetaba a la policía. Puede matar. No a distancia, ni por procuración, sino por su propia mano. Sus crímenes, aun siendo producto de una orden, no dejan de pertenecer a una voluntad particular, individual, que implica, con su decisión, la responsabilidad del asesino. Al policía se le enseña a matar. Amo esas máquinas siniestras pero sonrientes destinadas al acto más difícil: el asesinato" .
Y no deseo hablar más: para no mancillar a aquel que sabe de lo que habla. Para no tomar la voz de aquel que ha sabido trasegar el mundo y no dejarse corromper por el oropel. ¡Inmenso, Jean Genet!
Pocas veces se tiene el placer de leer algo tan hermoso y siniestro como el Diario del ladrón. En él, Genet invoca todos sus artilugios literarios para dotar de belleza y heroizar su vida como ladrón. Más allá del hurto, que viene siendo una mera función, el ladrón es aquel ser que se remueve en las antípodas del mundo; en el otro extremo de ese bienestar edulcorado que pretende vender cierta idea de legalidad. El ladrón, tal como el rey, habitan este mundo bajo el mismo peso; eso sí, sin sentir el mismo yugo. El primero es vapuleado mientras serpentea las calles en procura de su sustento y esa ascesis que Genet enuncia como abyección; mientras que, el segundo, se remueve sus túnicas en la otra cara de la luna, a la sombra del castillo y los banquetes. Ambos cenan de lo mismo, ambos son bufones de esta misma farsa que es el mundo y sus costumbres; sin embargo, ambos experimentan esta vida de forma radicalmente distinta.
Aquí, bajo el frenesí lírico de aquel que reconoce que su vida se ha volcado en ambos escenarios; ya sea como ladrón o escritor de renombre, Genet rememora esa forma de vida particular de aquel que adquiere su santidad a partir del camino de lo abyecto: porque, en últimas, el mundo está hecho de la misma sustancia y los sueños, sin más, no son más que esquirlas que se crepitan al fondo de los ceniceros. Cada ser humano es capaz de redimirse si es capaz de asumir su propia vida...de saberse humano y corroerse de aquellos vicios y virtudes que, por mano propia, cada quien decide sepultar sobre sí mismo. De hecho, tal como reconoce Genet, en esa diferencia maniquea entre buenos y malos se esconde en últimas la cobardía de apreciar el mundo sin su habitual velo de Maya. Al respecto, dice el francés:
"Yo respetaba a la policía. Puede matar. No a distancia, ni por procuración, sino por su propia mano. Sus crímenes, aun siendo producto de una orden, no dejan de pertenecer a una voluntad particular, individual, que implica, con su decisión, la responsabilidad del asesino. Al policía se le enseña a matar. Amo esas máquinas siniestras pero sonrientes destinadas al acto más difícil: el asesinato" .
Y no deseo hablar más: para no mancillar a aquel que sabe de lo que habla. Para no tomar la voz de aquel que ha sabido trasegar el mundo y no dejarse corromper por el oropel. ¡Inmenso, Jean Genet!
August 18, 2018
Oldukça ağır ve sanatsal bir kitap yine. Okuması da bir o kadar zor.
Sizi hiç aklınıza gelmeyecek yerlere götürüp oralarda bir temiz pataklayıp geri getiriyor yazar. Gündelik hayatta hiç tatmayacağınız duygular keşfediyorsunuz. Aşkın ve hüznün, dolayısıyla depresyonun en az rastlanır, en garip halleriyle karşılaşıyorsunuz.
Bir hırsız
Aynı zamanda bir eşcinsel
Aynı zamanda tam bir romantik
Karakterin adı yazarınkiyle aynı: Jean Genet.
Avrupa sathı boyunca ama daha çok İspanya’da geçirdiği günlere dair günlük bu.
Büyük aşkları oluyor bu süre boyunca Jean’ın.
Salvador, Lucien, Gary, Amber ve tabi ki Stilitano.
Hepsiylede defalarca yatıyor Jean.
Ama çok kırılgan.
Bir piç olarak dünyaya gelmiş ve annesi onu doğduğu gün terkedip gitmiş. O ise annesini hiç tanımadığı halde çok seviyor bundan gazla bahsetmek istemesede.
Aşkları ise bu paralelde genelde sığınacak bir liman oluyor onub icin. Daha dogrusu o hep siginacak bir liman ariyor hayati boyunca ve her buldugu limana da siginiyor.
Bu anlamda hoslandigi erkekler hep guclu kuvvetli heybetli kisiler oluyor. Ayni zamanda da sistem icerisinde bi sekilde aykiri durabilen bas kaldiran tipler.
Yani Jean annesinin biraktigi o kocaman boslugu zannedersem bu erkeklerle doldurmaya calisiyor. Aralarinda haydutta var (genelde zaten sokak serserileri) poliste var nazi de.
Ama bu sekilde o boslugu doldurmayi basarabiliyor mu derseniz, bence kesinlikle hayir.
Sizi hiç aklınıza gelmeyecek yerlere götürüp oralarda bir temiz pataklayıp geri getiriyor yazar. Gündelik hayatta hiç tatmayacağınız duygular keşfediyorsunuz. Aşkın ve hüznün, dolayısıyla depresyonun en az rastlanır, en garip halleriyle karşılaşıyorsunuz.
Bir hırsız
Aynı zamanda bir eşcinsel
Aynı zamanda tam bir romantik
Karakterin adı yazarınkiyle aynı: Jean Genet.
Avrupa sathı boyunca ama daha çok İspanya’da geçirdiği günlere dair günlük bu.
Büyük aşkları oluyor bu süre boyunca Jean’ın.
Salvador, Lucien, Gary, Amber ve tabi ki Stilitano.
Hepsiylede defalarca yatıyor Jean.
Ama çok kırılgan.
Bir piç olarak dünyaya gelmiş ve annesi onu doğduğu gün terkedip gitmiş. O ise annesini hiç tanımadığı halde çok seviyor bundan gazla bahsetmek istemesede.
Aşkları ise bu paralelde genelde sığınacak bir liman oluyor onub icin. Daha dogrusu o hep siginacak bir liman ariyor hayati boyunca ve her buldugu limana da siginiyor.
Bu anlamda hoslandigi erkekler hep guclu kuvvetli heybetli kisiler oluyor. Ayni zamanda da sistem icerisinde bi sekilde aykiri durabilen bas kaldiran tipler.
Yani Jean annesinin biraktigi o kocaman boslugu zannedersem bu erkeklerle doldurmaya calisiyor. Aralarinda haydutta var (genelde zaten sokak serserileri) poliste var nazi de.
Ama bu sekilde o boslugu doldurmayi basarabiliyor mu derseniz, bence kesinlikle hayir.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 8, 2019
i took it one time as a present to a well known thief in jail. what he hated was the liberty that Genet have in his mind. which is to say what a unique writer came from this thief who can teach us a lot about humanity.
February 22, 2022
j’ai hésité à mettre une étoile la
July 10, 2025
هذا الكتاب ليس بحاجة إلى مراجعة؛ هو يراجع ذاته بذاته!
"هذا الكتاب «يوميات لص» مطاردة للعدم المستحيل".
"أكتب هذه المذكرات، وأنا في الخامسة والثلاثين، وأرغب أن أعيش سنواتي الباقية في أمجاد معاكسة لتلك التي سبق أن عشتها".
"الحياة التي أتحدث عنها هنا كانت بين سنة 1932 - 1940، وتلك هي أمور الحب التي كانت تشغلني آنذاك، وهأنا أتحدث عنها علها تخدم أهداف هذا الكتاب".
"الخيانة والسرقة واللواطة هي الموضوعات الأساسية لهذا الكتاب، هناك صلة بينها - غير واضحة دومًا، على الأقل بالنسبة لي- تقر بنوع من التبادل والتنقل في ذوقي بينها".
"هذه اليوميات ليست مجرد تسلية أدبية؛ فكلما تقدمت في كتابتها مُنسقًا ما توحي به حياتي السابقة بصراحة التعبير -في الجمل والفصول والكتاب كله- شعرت بأن نفسي تنزع بشدة لتحويل كل معاناتي السابقة إلى نهايات عفيفة فاضلة، وأدرك فعل هذه القوة"….. "ولو حاولت أن أعيد صياغة مواقفي تلك الأيام، بالكلمات، لكان انفعال القارئ بها ليس أقل من انفعالي. فنحن نعرف أن اللغة غير قادرة حتى على استدعاء الانعكاسات الباهتة لهذه المواقف السابقة، وينطبق الشيء نفسه على هذه اليوميات لو أردت لها أن تكون دلالة عما كنته. ولذلك عليّ أن أوضح أني قصدت أن تعني ما أنا عليه اليوم، وقت كتابتها. إنها ليست بحثًا عن زمن مضى ولكنها عمل فني تَعِلَّة موضوعه حياتي السابقة، إنه حاضر يحدد الماضي وليس العكس؛ فليفهم القارئ أن الحقائق هي فعلا حقائق ماضية، لكن التفسير الذي أعطيه لها، هو ما أنا عليه الآن".
"برسم صورة له، فسترى فيها الصفات التي وجدتها في جميع أصدقائي - دلائل لزهوي، ثم لشفافيتي وأخيرًا لغيابي الأولاد الذين أتكلم عنهم تبخروا، كل ما بقي منهم، هو ما بقي مني أنا أوجد من خلالهم فقط فلم يبق بداخلي شيء، يطرحون الضوء علي ولكني منطقة متداخلة.. هؤلاء الأولاد: حراس شفقي - هذا الشاب لديه خبث لذيذ، وكان نابضًا بالظرف حتى أني وقعت في الغواية، وأفضل شيء لتعريفــه هـو استخدام التعبير القديم كان عازف جيتار عذبًا".
"عرفت المآسي والمتع الساذجة، فلم تقدم لي الحياة سوى الأفكار التافهة التي يمكن لأي شخص أن يتلفظ بها أشبعت إصلاحية متراي ملذاتي الحسية إلى نهايتها، لكنها كانت تجرح إحساسي دومًا. قاسيت الكثير هناك ، شعرت بالخزي القاسي نتيجة لحلق رأسي وارتدائي ملابس لا يمكن الحديث عنها، واحتجازي في ذلك المكان القبيح. وعرفت احتقار قمل آخر، كان أقوى مني وأكثر مكرًا. ولكي أتحمل تعاستي، حققت دون قصد، حين أنسحب إلى أعماق نفسي، نظامًا صارمًا، كانت آليته تتم بالشكل التالي: عند كل تهمة تلصق بي غير عادلة بالطبع كنت أجيب من أعماق قلبي بنعم. وما إن أنطق بالكلمة أو الجملة التي تدل على الإدانة، إلا وأشعر بحاجة داخلي لأن أصبح بالفعل ما اتهمت به. كنت في السادسة عشرة. لم أترك في قلبي مكانًا يتسع لأن تلجأ إليه مشاعر براءتي، رضيتُ أن أكون الجبان والخائن واللص والشاذ الذي يرونه في. وكان الاتهام يتم دون دليل، ولكي أكون مذنبا فلابد أن أكون قد ارتكبت هذه الأفعال التي يقوم بها الخونة واللصوص والجبناء، واكتشفت داخل نفسي، بقليل من الصبر، أسبابا كافية لأن أسمي بتلك الصفات، وأذهلني أن أعرف أني مكون من مجموعة من القذارات. أصبحتُ ذليلا، ورويدا رويدا اعتدت هذه الحالة، وقبلتها بصدر رحب . وتحول الاحتقار الذي كنت فيه، إلى كراهية، لقد نجحت، لكن كم من العذاب قاسيت".
"ولأنني لقيط، فقد اجتزت طفولتي وصباي وحيدًا. ولأنني لص فقد اعتقدت في تفرد وفردية اللصوصية. واعتبرت نفسي استثناءً وحشيا. فمزاجي الخاص ولصوصيتي ارتبطتا بلواطيتي مما جعلني في عزلة استثنائية. واندهشت حين رأيت كم كانت اللصوصية شائعة. وغصت في أعمال الابتذال. ولكي أنتشل نفسي، كان علي أن أبجل مصيري في اللصوصية، وأن أريده. وأثار هذا مرة، ومضة من ذكاء، أدهشت بعض البلهاء. هل كنت لا سيئًا ؟ إذا كان لذلك أهمية كلمة لص تعني الرجل الذي يكون نشاطه الأساسي يعتمد على السرقة، مع حذف أي شيء آخر لا يمت إلى اللص بصلة. وتكون الشاعرية هنا، في وعيه الكامل بأنه لص. وقد يكون الوعي بأية صفة أخرى أساسية، عاملا لتواجد هذه الشاعرية أيضًا. وهكذا، فإن وعيي بتفردي، يتصف بنشاطي الاجتماعي الذي هو : اللصوصية.
بلا شك، فالمجرم الفخور بما هو عليه، يدين بفرديته إلى المجتمع، لكن لابد أن يكون قد امتلك تلك الصفات ليعرفه المجتمع بها، ويدينه بسببها. أردت أن أعارض المجتمع، لكنه قد أدانني مُسبقًا ، مُعاقبًا عدوًا يخاف روحه الوحيدة وليس اللص الفعلي. لكنه احتوى ،تفردي، وعليه أن يحاربه، فهو ندمه وسبب قلقه، وشوكة في لحمه ، وجرح يفيض بدمه، لا يجرؤ أن يسفحه بنفسه. وإذا لم أحز على أشد المصائر عظمة، فإنني أريد أكثرها تعاسة، ليس سعيًا وراء عزلة كاملة، ولكن كي أحقق شيئًا جديدًا بهذه الصفة النادرة".
"كتابي البطولي هذا الذي أصبح سفر تكويني، يحتوي – أو ينبغي أن يحتوي - على وصايا لا أستطيع انتهاكها. وإذا كنت أستحقها؛ فستحفظ لي المجد الشائن الذي هي سيدته، فأي مرجع لي سواها ؟ من وجهة نظر أخلاقية عادية صرفة، أليس من المنطقي أن يجرني هذا الكتاب إلى السجن؟ ليس من خلال بعض الخطوات السريعة المحكومة بمبادئكم ، ولكن بالفواجع التي يحتويها ووضعتها هناك عمدًا، لتبقيني شاهدًا على ميدان تجربة وحياة ودليلا على فضيلتها ومسؤوليتي.
أرغب في الحديث عن أعياد السجن هذه؛ فوجود ذكور مجروحين يحيطونني ، هي بالفعل نعمة منحها الله لي، ومع ذلك فأنا أذكرها بشكل عابر ؛ فمواقف أخرى (الجيش والرياضة) يمكن أن تقدم لي أشياء مشابهة.
في الجزء الثاني من هذه اليوميات، الذي سوف أسميه «مسألة أخلاق» أعتزم أن أسجل، وأصف، وأُعلق على أعياد سجن داخلي، اكتشفته في أعماقي، بعد غوص في منطقة من نفسي اسمها إسبانيا.
لم يكتب هذا الجزء قط (هـ. م.)".
| يوميات لص - جان جينيه
- ترجمة: أحمد عمر شاهين
"هذا الكتاب «يوميات لص» مطاردة للعدم المستحيل".
"أكتب هذه المذكرات، وأنا في الخامسة والثلاثين، وأرغب أن أعيش سنواتي الباقية في أمجاد معاكسة لتلك التي سبق أن عشتها".
"الحياة التي أتحدث عنها هنا كانت بين سنة 1932 - 1940، وتلك هي أمور الحب التي كانت تشغلني آنذاك، وهأنا أتحدث عنها علها تخدم أهداف هذا الكتاب".
"الخيانة والسرقة واللواطة هي الموضوعات الأساسية لهذا الكتاب، هناك صلة بينها - غير واضحة دومًا، على الأقل بالنسبة لي- تقر بنوع من التبادل والتنقل في ذوقي بينها".
"هذه اليوميات ليست مجرد تسلية أدبية؛ فكلما تقدمت في كتابتها مُنسقًا ما توحي به حياتي السابقة بصراحة التعبير -في الجمل والفصول والكتاب كله- شعرت بأن نفسي تنزع بشدة لتحويل كل معاناتي السابقة إلى نهايات عفيفة فاضلة، وأدرك فعل هذه القوة"….. "ولو حاولت أن أعيد صياغة مواقفي تلك الأيام، بالكلمات، لكان انفعال القارئ بها ليس أقل من انفعالي. فنحن نعرف أن اللغة غير قادرة حتى على استدعاء الانعكاسات الباهتة لهذه المواقف السابقة، وينطبق الشيء نفسه على هذه اليوميات لو أردت لها أن تكون دلالة عما كنته. ولذلك عليّ أن أوضح أني قصدت أن تعني ما أنا عليه اليوم، وقت كتابتها. إنها ليست بحثًا عن زمن مضى ولكنها عمل فني تَعِلَّة موضوعه حياتي السابقة، إنه حاضر يحدد الماضي وليس العكس؛ فليفهم القارئ أن الحقائق هي فعلا حقائق ماضية، لكن التفسير الذي أعطيه لها، هو ما أنا عليه الآن".
"برسم صورة له، فسترى فيها الصفات التي وجدتها في جميع أصدقائي - دلائل لزهوي، ثم لشفافيتي وأخيرًا لغيابي الأولاد الذين أتكلم عنهم تبخروا، كل ما بقي منهم، هو ما بقي مني أنا أوجد من خلالهم فقط فلم يبق بداخلي شيء، يطرحون الضوء علي ولكني منطقة متداخلة.. هؤلاء الأولاد: حراس شفقي - هذا الشاب لديه خبث لذيذ، وكان نابضًا بالظرف حتى أني وقعت في الغواية، وأفضل شيء لتعريفــه هـو استخدام التعبير القديم كان عازف جيتار عذبًا".
"عرفت المآسي والمتع الساذجة، فلم تقدم لي الحياة سوى الأفكار التافهة التي يمكن لأي شخص أن يتلفظ بها أشبعت إصلاحية متراي ملذاتي الحسية إلى نهايتها، لكنها كانت تجرح إحساسي دومًا. قاسيت الكثير هناك ، شعرت بالخزي القاسي نتيجة لحلق رأسي وارتدائي ملابس لا يمكن الحديث عنها، واحتجازي في ذلك المكان القبيح. وعرفت احتقار قمل آخر، كان أقوى مني وأكثر مكرًا. ولكي أتحمل تعاستي، حققت دون قصد، حين أنسحب إلى أعماق نفسي، نظامًا صارمًا، كانت آليته تتم بالشكل التالي: عند كل تهمة تلصق بي غير عادلة بالطبع كنت أجيب من أعماق قلبي بنعم. وما إن أنطق بالكلمة أو الجملة التي تدل على الإدانة، إلا وأشعر بحاجة داخلي لأن أصبح بالفعل ما اتهمت به. كنت في السادسة عشرة. لم أترك في قلبي مكانًا يتسع لأن تلجأ إليه مشاعر براءتي، رضيتُ أن أكون الجبان والخائن واللص والشاذ الذي يرونه في. وكان الاتهام يتم دون دليل، ولكي أكون مذنبا فلابد أن أكون قد ارتكبت هذه الأفعال التي يقوم بها الخونة واللصوص والجبناء، واكتشفت داخل نفسي، بقليل من الصبر، أسبابا كافية لأن أسمي بتلك الصفات، وأذهلني أن أعرف أني مكون من مجموعة من القذارات. أصبحتُ ذليلا، ورويدا رويدا اعتدت هذه الحالة، وقبلتها بصدر رحب . وتحول الاحتقار الذي كنت فيه، إلى كراهية، لقد نجحت، لكن كم من العذاب قاسيت".
"ولأنني لقيط، فقد اجتزت طفولتي وصباي وحيدًا. ولأنني لص فقد اعتقدت في تفرد وفردية اللصوصية. واعتبرت نفسي استثناءً وحشيا. فمزاجي الخاص ولصوصيتي ارتبطتا بلواطيتي مما جعلني في عزلة استثنائية. واندهشت حين رأيت كم كانت اللصوصية شائعة. وغصت في أعمال الابتذال. ولكي أنتشل نفسي، كان علي أن أبجل مصيري في اللصوصية، وأن أريده. وأثار هذا مرة، ومضة من ذكاء، أدهشت بعض البلهاء. هل كنت لا سيئًا ؟ إذا كان لذلك أهمية كلمة لص تعني الرجل الذي يكون نشاطه الأساسي يعتمد على السرقة، مع حذف أي شيء آخر لا يمت إلى اللص بصلة. وتكون الشاعرية هنا، في وعيه الكامل بأنه لص. وقد يكون الوعي بأية صفة أخرى أساسية، عاملا لتواجد هذه الشاعرية أيضًا. وهكذا، فإن وعيي بتفردي، يتصف بنشاطي الاجتماعي الذي هو : اللصوصية.
بلا شك، فالمجرم الفخور بما هو عليه، يدين بفرديته إلى المجتمع، لكن لابد أن يكون قد امتلك تلك الصفات ليعرفه المجتمع بها، ويدينه بسببها. أردت أن أعارض المجتمع، لكنه قد أدانني مُسبقًا ، مُعاقبًا عدوًا يخاف روحه الوحيدة وليس اللص الفعلي. لكنه احتوى ،تفردي، وعليه أن يحاربه، فهو ندمه وسبب قلقه، وشوكة في لحمه ، وجرح يفيض بدمه، لا يجرؤ أن يسفحه بنفسه. وإذا لم أحز على أشد المصائر عظمة، فإنني أريد أكثرها تعاسة، ليس سعيًا وراء عزلة كاملة، ولكن كي أحقق شيئًا جديدًا بهذه الصفة النادرة".
"كتابي البطولي هذا الذي أصبح سفر تكويني، يحتوي – أو ينبغي أن يحتوي - على وصايا لا أستطيع انتهاكها. وإذا كنت أستحقها؛ فستحفظ لي المجد الشائن الذي هي سيدته، فأي مرجع لي سواها ؟ من وجهة نظر أخلاقية عادية صرفة، أليس من المنطقي أن يجرني هذا الكتاب إلى السجن؟ ليس من خلال بعض الخطوات السريعة المحكومة بمبادئكم ، ولكن بالفواجع التي يحتويها ووضعتها هناك عمدًا، لتبقيني شاهدًا على ميدان تجربة وحياة ودليلا على فضيلتها ومسؤوليتي.
أرغب في الحديث عن أعياد السجن هذه؛ فوجود ذكور مجروحين يحيطونني ، هي بالفعل نعمة منحها الله لي، ومع ذلك فأنا أذكرها بشكل عابر ؛ فمواقف أخرى (الجيش والرياضة) يمكن أن تقدم لي أشياء مشابهة.
في الجزء الثاني من هذه اليوميات، الذي سوف أسميه «مسألة أخلاق» أعتزم أن أسجل، وأصف، وأُعلق على أعياد سجن داخلي، اكتشفته في أعماقي، بعد غوص في منطقة من نفسي اسمها إسبانيا.
لم يكتب هذا الجزء قط (هـ. م.)".
| يوميات لص - جان جينيه
- ترجمة: أحمد عمر شاهين
May 18, 2023
Me ha parecido mejor que "Querelle de Brest", pero sigo teniendo el mismo problema con Genet. Al principio, la novela me ha atrapado en su ambiente y con su prosa lírica, pero esa ausencia de hilo narrativo ha acabado por aburrirme y hacer que pierda el interés en seguir leyendo. Las escenas se me hacían un tanto similares, que aún así tenían sus momentos líricos interesantes, pero sentía que iban siempre por los mismos derroteros solo que cambiando el nombre del amante. Y bueno, tampoco me han encantado esas idas y venidas temporales algo caprichosas y que interrumpían el hilo narrativo.
Siento que "Diario del ladrón" es un hilo de conciencia algo caótico, y eso no me parece malo de per se, pero si que al final no hay una estructura clara y las historietas de los amantes de Genet, por muy romántico y perverso que sea todo, acaban por parecerme demasiado similares. Quizá haber reducido el número de páginas hubiera hecho que todo se hubiera sentido más fresco y conciso. Igualmente, tengo la sensación de que Genet habría sido mejor poeta que novelista.
También creo necesario destacar que esta es la versión sin censura. Hasta hace muy poco solo se publicaba la edición censurada por Gallimard y que cercenaba muchos pasajes por su contenido sexual y homoerótico. La edición de Cabaret Voltaire, excepcionalmente cuidada, señala los fragmentos censurados y puede distinguirse lo que para la época se consideró demasiado atrevido (o bueno, básicamente demasiado gay). Creo que este libro no tiene la misma fuerza sin su erotismo violento, lírico y tajante, por lo que me alegro de haber podido disfrutar el libro por primera vez ya sin censura.
En fin, no considero que sea una novela regulera. Siento que la calificación es más por lo personal, sobre todo porque no encajo con este tipo de narrativa que parece suspendida en el aire. No obstante, algo ha de tener Genet para que, aunque no me vuele la gorra, quiera seguir leyéndolo.
Siento que "Diario del ladrón" es un hilo de conciencia algo caótico, y eso no me parece malo de per se, pero si que al final no hay una estructura clara y las historietas de los amantes de Genet, por muy romántico y perverso que sea todo, acaban por parecerme demasiado similares. Quizá haber reducido el número de páginas hubiera hecho que todo se hubiera sentido más fresco y conciso. Igualmente, tengo la sensación de que Genet habría sido mejor poeta que novelista.
También creo necesario destacar que esta es la versión sin censura. Hasta hace muy poco solo se publicaba la edición censurada por Gallimard y que cercenaba muchos pasajes por su contenido sexual y homoerótico. La edición de Cabaret Voltaire, excepcionalmente cuidada, señala los fragmentos censurados y puede distinguirse lo que para la época se consideró demasiado atrevido (o bueno, básicamente demasiado gay). Creo que este libro no tiene la misma fuerza sin su erotismo violento, lírico y tajante, por lo que me alegro de haber podido disfrutar el libro por primera vez ya sin censura.
En fin, no considero que sea una novela regulera. Siento que la calificación es más por lo personal, sobre todo porque no encajo con este tipo de narrativa que parece suspendida en el aire. No obstante, algo ha de tener Genet para que, aunque no me vuele la gorra, quiera seguir leyéndolo.
July 21, 2016
"Eğer derin bir yapıt, korkunç bir biçimde kendi içine batmış bir insanın haykırışıysa, insanların
bu yapıttan uzaklaşmaları hayırlıdır," demiş yazar. Bu biraz insanların kötü olanı görmemezlikten gelip, üç maymunu oynamasına benziyor. Bunun neresi hayırlıdır ve gerçekçi midir bilinmez ama bu kitabın sizin önyargılarınızı ve size öğretilen onca "iyi şey"i silkip atabileceği bir gerçek.
Çocukluğunu yetiştirme yurtlarında, gençliğini ise sokaklarda hırsızlık ve fahişelik yaparak geçirmiş bir adamın yaşadıklarına tanık oluyoruz. Bu kitap bir hesaplaşma değil bana göre. Yazar sadece olayları tüm berbatlıklarıyla ve o berbatlıkların içinde şaşırtıcı da olsa bulunabilen güzelliklerle anlatmış. En çok aşklarını anlatmış ki aşkları da bir o kadar aşağılıkmış aslında, o güzelliği aşağılık olanda bulmuş. O'na her ihanet ettiklerinde o daha çok aşık olmuş.
Ve tüm bunları bizim o minik beyaz çiçekler, pembe panjurlu evler hayal eden akıl almaz beynimizle alay ederek anlatmış. Yani kitabı okurken küçük düşen biri varsa o da okuyucunun ta kendisi oluyor.
Bu kitaba 5 yıldız vermek istemedim çünkü beğenilsin diye yazılan bir kitap olmadığını düşünüyorum. Yazar biz onu takdir edelim ya da hayran olalım diye anlatmıyor, aksine rahatsız etmek için anlatıyor. Bir de yazarların kendi ağızlarından anlattıkları hikayeleri pek sevemiyorum, düşüncelerine hiç ara vermeden okuyup katlanabildiğim birkaç yazar var.
Yeraltı edebiyatının kaba dilini de pek sevmiyorum. Çok haşır neşir olmadığım bir tür ama gerçekten farklı bir kitap okumak istiyorsanız tavsiye ederim.
bu yapıttan uzaklaşmaları hayırlıdır," demiş yazar. Bu biraz insanların kötü olanı görmemezlikten gelip, üç maymunu oynamasına benziyor. Bunun neresi hayırlıdır ve gerçekçi midir bilinmez ama bu kitabın sizin önyargılarınızı ve size öğretilen onca "iyi şey"i silkip atabileceği bir gerçek.
Çocukluğunu yetiştirme yurtlarında, gençliğini ise sokaklarda hırsızlık ve fahişelik yaparak geçirmiş bir adamın yaşadıklarına tanık oluyoruz. Bu kitap bir hesaplaşma değil bana göre. Yazar sadece olayları tüm berbatlıklarıyla ve o berbatlıkların içinde şaşırtıcı da olsa bulunabilen güzelliklerle anlatmış. En çok aşklarını anlatmış ki aşkları da bir o kadar aşağılıkmış aslında, o güzelliği aşağılık olanda bulmuş. O'na her ihanet ettiklerinde o daha çok aşık olmuş.
Ve tüm bunları bizim o minik beyaz çiçekler, pembe panjurlu evler hayal eden akıl almaz beynimizle alay ederek anlatmış. Yani kitabı okurken küçük düşen biri varsa o da okuyucunun ta kendisi oluyor.
Bu kitaba 5 yıldız vermek istemedim çünkü beğenilsin diye yazılan bir kitap olmadığını düşünüyorum. Yazar biz onu takdir edelim ya da hayran olalım diye anlatmıyor, aksine rahatsız etmek için anlatıyor. Bir de yazarların kendi ağızlarından anlattıkları hikayeleri pek sevemiyorum, düşüncelerine hiç ara vermeden okuyup katlanabildiğim birkaç yazar var.
Yeraltı edebiyatının kaba dilini de pek sevmiyorum. Çok haşır neşir olmadığım bir tür ama gerçekten farklı bir kitap okumak istiyorsanız tavsiye ederim.
May 22, 2024
Titre alternatif : « Journal des mecs que j’ai b**sés »
September 15, 2024
Ja gribas zaņķi, tas te tā ir pārpārēm. Robs beidzot aizpildīts. Līdz galam gan netiku, bet pusi godīgi izlasīju, vienmuļība apnika, diezgan garlaicīga tā zagļa un geja dzīve
January 16, 2016
This is like meeting an old, irritating, but oddly captivating acquaintance. I read this book when I was still in junior high, and remembered it quite vividly for all those years.
The narrative and descriptive parts of the book are interesting and intense. The philosophy, not so much. First, it’s already dated, with its concept of homosexuality as the act of defiance of the rules of society, and as the embracing of sin and darkness.
And then, it’s quite obvious that Genet invented that philosophy post factum, possibly when he was already in prison and reading books and going bonkers from boredom. Because hey, what can you do if you are uneducated, poor, and almost without any moral and other support? What to do with the most shitty cards you’ve been dealt at the beginning of your life? Yo go with the flow at first and sometimes to the last: steal, cheat, maybe murder, maybe prostitute yourself. Some people resist the misery and try their best to get out of the situation by any means available. Genet did this pretty late – when the opportunity presented itself and his writing started to draw attention, he draped himself in this black cape and won.
It shows that he’s intoxicated with his success and in love with his words. Some of this stuff is unreadable. But as I said, as a description – not the rationalization – of a life, it is very powerful.
And I loved the vision of a unicorn prancing in the wide field of wheat with birches in the background on the border between Czechoslovakia and Poland, because “only a unicorn would fit there”. Just imagine! A unicorn! Damn right!
PS. It's pretty hot.
The narrative and descriptive parts of the book are interesting and intense. The philosophy, not so much. First, it’s already dated, with its concept of homosexuality as the act of defiance of the rules of society, and as the embracing of sin and darkness.
And then, it’s quite obvious that Genet invented that philosophy post factum, possibly when he was already in prison and reading books and going bonkers from boredom. Because hey, what can you do if you are uneducated, poor, and almost without any moral and other support? What to do with the most shitty cards you’ve been dealt at the beginning of your life? Yo go with the flow at first and sometimes to the last: steal, cheat, maybe murder, maybe prostitute yourself. Some people resist the misery and try their best to get out of the situation by any means available. Genet did this pretty late – when the opportunity presented itself and his writing started to draw attention, he draped himself in this black cape and won.
It shows that he’s intoxicated with his success and in love with his words. Some of this stuff is unreadable. But as I said, as a description – not the rationalization – of a life, it is very powerful.
And I loved the vision of a unicorn prancing in the wide field of wheat with birches in the background on the border between Czechoslovakia and Poland, because “only a unicorn would fit there”. Just imagine! A unicorn! Damn right!
PS. It's pretty hot.
July 1, 2021
Despite the fact I've been in a major reading slump lately and it took an embarrassingly long time for me to read this book, I really did enjoy it. I'll definitely have to re-read it once I'm in a better reading space, but considering the fact that it managed to hold my attention no matter how spaced out I was, I can say it's an impressive book.
It's not like anything I've ever read before, and it's honestly beautifully written. I did find that the writing style was a little difficult to follow at some points, and it's definitely not a linear autobiography kind of thing. It's more of a personal philosophy illuminated by incidents both directly from or drawn from the author's life, which does sound a little dull but somehow manages to be anything but. There are some really interesting ideas in here, and some stunning prose.
I'll definitely be going back to this one at a later date, and I'm pretty sure it'll probably become a five-star read when I do.
It's not like anything I've ever read before, and it's honestly beautifully written. I did find that the writing style was a little difficult to follow at some points, and it's definitely not a linear autobiography kind of thing. It's more of a personal philosophy illuminated by incidents both directly from or drawn from the author's life, which does sound a little dull but somehow manages to be anything but. There are some really interesting ideas in here, and some stunning prose.
I'll definitely be going back to this one at a later date, and I'm pretty sure it'll probably become a five-star read when I do.
March 16, 2017
Might be sacrilege to say it, but Genet is sort of a one-trick pony. He trades on the wholesome, just as the physically imposing and masculine depredate on him. He has a lot of sex and cadges drinks, viatica, and places to stay. All of this is done in a disorientatingly fluid manner.
Not enough variety or substance for me to feel invested in the plot, but I'm glad I gave him two shots.
Not enough variety or substance for me to feel invested in the plot, but I'm glad I gave him two shots.
June 11, 2024
Tīri personīgi nesaslēdzos ar grāmatu, sevišķi ar abstraktajām, filozofiskajām atkāpēm, lai gan tur bija daudz foršu ainu un tēlu. Bet vispār jau ļoti labs "be gay and do crimes" žanra gabals
October 19, 2015
Да възвеличаеш позора, да откриеш естественото
Цялото ревю тук: http://knijenpetar.blogspot.bg/2015/1...
Никак, ама никак не съжалявам, че си причиних тази книга. Сякаш бях прелюбодеец, изтръгнал сърце и душа от тялото си, поканен на поход към низостта и извращението, но в свят на благочестие и преданост, какъвто Жан Жьоне боготвори с някаква непосилна за хора в неговото положение радост. Изстисках максимално от чувството си за приличие, но не посмях да разкрася различно в ума си тази трагедия, да ѝ отнема от съвършенството, да я прерисувам по мой си начин. Не го пожелах, защото щях да отнема от тази книга всичко, което иска да каже на езика на поета и клетника Жьоне. Но не мога да не се възхитя на философията на този ранен вестител на своеобразната литературна оргия на битниците. Поет на улицата, мистификатор, преобръщащ реалността по наистина нетрадиционен начин; влечуго, което се провира из най-мръсните и миризливи катакомби, за да ги слави и обича.
„Дневник на крадеца“ („Колибри“, 2015, с превод на Росица Ташева) е една от най-поразяващите книги, които съм чел. Не мога да я сравня с нищо, а и не е желателно да го правя, защото не съм способен дори да я преосмисля подобаващо. Мога да я оценя с нула, но мога и да я поставя на пиедестал, без да се почувствам неловко. Тук не стои въпросът с разбирането или отричането, дали изобщо този текст е някакво постижение в литературата или какво да е изкуство под формата на текст, но влиянието му е голямо, голямо за четящия го. Ако кажа, че от този текст боли не само главата, но и душата, ще съм близо до истината. Да поставим и думичката „автофикция“, доста по-неразумната в случая „автобиография“ и третата, но не по значимост – „фантазия“. „Дневник на крадеца“ е поднесена като поетизирана ябълка, с инжектирана в нея бавно действаща отрова – за чувствителността, за приемствеността и за разбирането. Светът на Жьоне е ад, който той обича, възхищава му се и приема като даден му от природата. И както „жьоне“ означава жълтуга, така и писателят се идентифицира с цвете – посланик или техен крал. И това сякаш му е потребно, тъй като си изважда акт за раждане чак на двайсет и една годишна възраст.
(Продължава в блога: http://knijenpetar.blogspot.bg/2015/1...)
Цялото ревю тук: http://knijenpetar.blogspot.bg/2015/1...
Никак, ама никак не съжалявам, че си причиних тази книга. Сякаш бях прелюбодеец, изтръгнал сърце и душа от тялото си, поканен на поход към низостта и извращението, но в свят на благочестие и преданост, какъвто Жан Жьоне боготвори с някаква непосилна за хора в неговото положение радост. Изстисках максимално от чувството си за приличие, но не посмях да разкрася различно в ума си тази трагедия, да ѝ отнема от съвършенството, да я прерисувам по мой си начин. Не го пожелах, защото щях да отнема от тази книга всичко, което иска да каже на езика на поета и клетника Жьоне. Но не мога да не се възхитя на философията на този ранен вестител на своеобразната литературна оргия на битниците. Поет на улицата, мистификатор, преобръщащ реалността по наистина нетрадиционен начин; влечуго, което се провира из най-мръсните и миризливи катакомби, за да ги слави и обича.
„Дневник на крадеца“ („Колибри“, 2015, с превод на Росица Ташева) е една от най-поразяващите книги, които съм чел. Не мога да я сравня с нищо, а и не е желателно да го правя, защото не съм способен дори да я преосмисля подобаващо. Мога да я оценя с нула, но мога и да я поставя на пиедестал, без да се почувствам неловко. Тук не стои въпросът с разбирането или отричането, дали изобщо този текст е някакво постижение в литературата или какво да е изкуство под формата на текст, но влиянието му е голямо, голямо за четящия го. Ако кажа, че от този текст боли не само главата, но и душата, ще съм близо до истината. Да поставим и думичката „автофикция“, доста по-неразумната в случая „автобиография“ и третата, но не по значимост – „фантазия“. „Дневник на крадеца“ е поднесена като поетизирана ябълка, с инжектирана в нея бавно действаща отрова – за чувствителността, за приемствеността и за разбирането. Светът на Жьоне е ад, който той обича, възхищава му се и приема като даден му от природата. И както „жьоне“ означава жълтуга, така и писателят се идентифицира с цвете – посланик или техен крал. И това сякаш му е потребно, тъй като си изважда акт за раждане чак на двайсет и една годишна възраст.
(Продължава в блога: http://knijenpetar.blogspot.bg/2015/1...)
March 11, 2024
Oscura, lírica, inclasificable, sucia, brillante. Caben muchos adjetivos en esta obra de Jean Genet, incluyendo muchos que, aparentemente, se contradicen.
El autor convierte su juventud en una epopeya, pero una epopeya con sus propias normas y valores. Su estética, su moral, su forma de entender el bien o el mal, todo queda a disposición de Genet para amoldarse a su narración, sin permitir que nada de la percepción del lector pueda mancillar su relato. En cierta medida, es casi una obra de fantasía, en tanto en cuanto altera hasta tal punto los parámetros éticos de la realidad que se convierte en un mundo alternativo al real, pese a que en teoría es el mismo. Ni siquiera es una inversión total, como a veces se dice, sino una cosmovisión propia.
Incluso desde el punto de vista literario, Genet juega libremente con los límites de la técnica y la narrativa, en un estilo que funciona porque es el suyo, aunque sea claramente desordenado y falto de consistencia. Quizás una voz narrativa más pulcra nunca podría haber afrontado la historia que nos cuenta en “Diario del ladrón” (y, especialmente, cómo lo cuenta).
No es un libro cómodo de leer. Te mancilla en cada página y te posiciona en una visión de las cosas que resulta muy incómoda, por mucho que intentes entrar en la dinámica del autor. Y, precisamente por eso, en muchos momentos se me ha hecho repetitivo y predecible. Pero, al tiempo, era un texto visceral que me animaba a seguir leyendo, y cuya energía no me abandonaba al cerrar el libro.
Sin duda, no es el tipo de literatura que más disfrute. Tampoco sabría dirimir si es una obra maestra o no (¿importa, en realidad?). Pero sí que puedo decir que es un libro único y que merece la pena tomar el desafío de leerlo, no deja indiferente.
El autor convierte su juventud en una epopeya, pero una epopeya con sus propias normas y valores. Su estética, su moral, su forma de entender el bien o el mal, todo queda a disposición de Genet para amoldarse a su narración, sin permitir que nada de la percepción del lector pueda mancillar su relato. En cierta medida, es casi una obra de fantasía, en tanto en cuanto altera hasta tal punto los parámetros éticos de la realidad que se convierte en un mundo alternativo al real, pese a que en teoría es el mismo. Ni siquiera es una inversión total, como a veces se dice, sino una cosmovisión propia.
Incluso desde el punto de vista literario, Genet juega libremente con los límites de la técnica y la narrativa, en un estilo que funciona porque es el suyo, aunque sea claramente desordenado y falto de consistencia. Quizás una voz narrativa más pulcra nunca podría haber afrontado la historia que nos cuenta en “Diario del ladrón” (y, especialmente, cómo lo cuenta).
No es un libro cómodo de leer. Te mancilla en cada página y te posiciona en una visión de las cosas que resulta muy incómoda, por mucho que intentes entrar en la dinámica del autor. Y, precisamente por eso, en muchos momentos se me ha hecho repetitivo y predecible. Pero, al tiempo, era un texto visceral que me animaba a seguir leyendo, y cuya energía no me abandonaba al cerrar el libro.
Sin duda, no es el tipo de literatura que más disfrute. Tampoco sabría dirimir si es una obra maestra o no (¿importa, en realidad?). Pero sí que puedo decir que es un libro único y que merece la pena tomar el desafío de leerlo, no deja indiferente.
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