ספר הדקדוק הפנימי

by David Grossman, דויד גרוסמן

'ספר הדקדוק הפנימי', שראה אור לראשונה ב-1991, הוא מפסגות יצירתו של דויד גרוסמן ומן הרומאנים הגדולים של הספרות העברית בת-ימינו.

על רקע שכונת בית-הכרם בשנות השישים עוקב הספר אחר עולמו הפנימי של אהרון במשך ארבע שנים של התבגרות מעוכבת, מגיל אחת-עשרה וחצי ועד אחרי גיל חמש-עשרה. מילד מוצלח שזוכה תמיד לשבחים על המצאותיו מלאות הדמיון הופך אהרון למישהו שהחיים פסחו עליו, ובמקום להשתתף עם בני גילו בכניסה המרגשת אל עולם המבוגרים הוא מתבונן בה מבחוץ, בזעזוע.


תחת מבטו נחשפת ההתבגרות כאובדן נורא של העצמיות, מטאמורפוזה שמצמיחה גסות, זיוף ובגידה בכל מה שיקר לך. אבל מי שהשינוי הזה פוסח עליו, מי שנשאר מאחור, נידון להיוותר בודד ומעורר-גיחוך, בלתי-מובן, בושה גדולה להוריו, ילד דחוי שילך וייעלם יותר ויותר לתוך עולמו הפנימי.


במשאל שערך עיתון 'מעריב' (יוני 2007) בין אנשי ספרות מובילים נבחר 'ספר הדקדוק הפנימי' בין עשרת ספרי הפרוזה "הטובים ביותר שנכתבו בעברית מקום המדינה".


המהדורה השלושים-ושתיים של הספר (2010) רואה אור עם יציאת סרטו המהולל של ניר ברגמן, על-פי הספר.

Genres: Fiction, Israel, Jewish, Middle East, Literature, Novels, Ebooks

323 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1991

About the author

From ithl.org:

Leading Israeli novelist David Grossman (b. 1954, Jerusalem) studied philosophy and drama at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and later worked as an editor and broadcaster at Israel Radio. Grossman has written seven novels, a play, a number of short stories and novellas, and a number of books for children and youth. He has also published several books of non-fiction, including interviews with Palestinians and Israeli Arabs. Among Grossman`s many literary awards: the Valumbrosa Prize (Italy), the Eliette von Karajan Prize (Austria), the Nelly Sachs Prize (1991), the Premio Grinzane and the Premio Mondelo for The Zig-Zag Kid (Italy, 1996), the Vittorio de Sica Prize (Italy), the Juliet Club Prize, the Marsh Award for Children`s Literature in Translation (UK, 1998), the Buxtehude Bulle (Germany, 2001), the Sapir Prize for Someone to Run With (2001), the Bialik Prize (2004), the Koret Jewish Book Award (USA, 2006), the Premio per la Pace e l`Azione Umanitaria 2006 (City of Rome/Italy), Onorificenza della Stella Solidarita Italiana 2007, Premio Ischia - International Award for Journalism 2007, the Geschwister Scholl Prize (Germany), the Emet Prize (Israel, 2007)and the Albatross Prize (Germany, 2009). He has also been awarded the Chevalier de l`Ordre des Arts et Belles Lettres (France, 1998) and an Honorary Doctorate by Florence University (2008). In 2007, his novels The Book of Internal Grammar and See Under: Love were named among the ten most important books since the creation of the State of Israel. His books have been translated into over 25 languages.

See also other authors with similar names.

Reviews

[Mariel · Rating 5 out of 5]

watching the timorous spurt, and in his bowels, an amazing void, an emptiness like nothing he can remember, the emptiness of somebody else. And oh, the unbearable sting of bliss at that moment, long as eternity, when he flowed and flowed; giving birth to himself, a small, beloved, stinking self; rid at last of the horrible anguish, the harsh dark secret, not his own, he had been forced to keep inside.

This was my second read of David Grossman's The Book of Intimate Grammar. The first was probably late 2005 or early 2006. It's not important except to me because that was my genesis and 2012 is my DG second coming. I don't know what soul mates are so I'll just say one that makes it easier for me to love others on cold days. I didn't go anywhere without my David Grossman books (somehow there were two fiction works I've never read. So much for my fancy biblically and philosophically knowing him talk. One I am currently reading). In my mind I hold that time up as a safe place of "If only for him the world would be okay" faith. I'm sure I already talked about my failed attempts to give his books as presents and classmates picking up my books only to conclude I should be reading something else. But I was still warm. Years later, on goodreads, I was so hard on myself about my reviews of his books (two of them were purged for good last May. I'll rewrite them one day). I wanted to be able to find for myself in myself the human essence in his writing that I only had while I was in it. If I could do that, and keep it, I wouldn't be lonely with me anymore. I owed it to myself in that relationship to hold onto it. I don't think it's supposed to work like that, that you aren't supposed to still go on living for some place. But I felt different while it lasted. I was listening and caring about something bigger than just me. I'm missing 'Intimate Grammar' pretty bad right now, actually.

I probably wrote about this in one of my other reviews and I know that I recently talked about this with my good goodreads friend about DG's book of essays "Writing in the dark". David Grossman writes his novels from a place of trying to change something that he can't live with on its own. I love this about his stories. I want it all of the time. They have a feeling like if you were having a great conversation and on the verge of finally figuring out that question that keeps you always so hungry. Don't be afraid to live the situation and look for the answers. I get the feeling that he is surprised by what he asks from being so close to it that he's not watching only the ground. I don't even know how you would write like that except that he does it. He writes about it much better than I ever could, of course. Writing about people in stories to know "the other", that part of ourselves that we may even keep hidden from even ourselves. I wonder if writing isn't the only breathable home for this part. Maybe it would die without the gravity protecting helmet that is our heads. The blood would turn brown instead of a full bodied red. That's why I read. His reason for writing is why I read. I don't know of anywhere else when it would matter that I would care about "the other". I know why I wanted to reread The Book of Intimate Grammar. It's my fear that I'm doing it all wrong. I want to have an other and this book is when doing the keeping it in yourself is wrong all wrong. When it can't live outside, that outside is going to trample it like your Alice in a bed of roses, and how it's fucked up to keep it in. The too awful to be anything but truth that no one else really cares. I wish there was something else you could do than stories. IS there anything else? I never know what to do when they are over. Guess this is what I've got. I have an idea that you're supposed to make something for yourself that's real to have both. Tom Waits said so. I just don't know how HE did it and I am scared that Aron didn't either. I wish I could write it for myself and it wouldn't feel like I gave up on everyone else. That's Aron.

Young Aron Kleinfeld eats himself alive from some dark magical thinking of cruelest self awareness. He writes the world without himself in it. He writes a claustrophobic hell that is only himself. It's loneliness where no one lives but Aron in his flesh cage. He calls it Aroning to be free inside. I call it forgetting how to breathe because you thought too much about how to do it. It's free, but like a genie that doesn't really leave its bottle. Who is the master? He writes himself into no words left to say. I don't know that that wouldn't have been a bad thing if someone else had listened to him the way that he listened to him. They don't. Fantasy of himself as a helpless old man tolerated in his older sister's home. It's a dream. It's a you died in your dream death. Make that face and you'll get stuck that way. You'll be ten forever. Aron to Aron. The kid speaks too much to himself. He hides words inside himself, keeping them safe to set into the world. These words don't know what to do when it's over either. Maybe he's a sixteen year old boy in the body of a ten year old. His parents never take him to the doctor to find out. His best friend, Gideon, grows up without him. To Aron it is the kind of old man you can't tell if it is him or his father on the phone. You can't tell if you are you or a telemarketer they want to get rid of for how they sound. I remember being a kid and not being able to do kid things with other kids anymore because it was decided that we were all supposed to be too old for it now. I did it anyway, only at home. Aron is a do it anyway kind of kid too. Did he know it was going to mean staying alone? Did anyone join the war knowing they could only lose? Aron to Aron. Over and out. It's over. He stays ten. He could have worn purity rings if they had those kinds of things for what he was doing. Peter Pan if it's family day and every cheek pinching relative on the tree shakes out to talk about you in front of you on your Bar Mitzvah. Every "I don't want to grow up" secret wish on your walkie talkie. He's the lost boy and he kidnapped himself. Aron goes to sleep when his father breaks down the walls of the neighbor lady with middle aged version of fuck me pants. I see a lot of red meat when I think of Edna Bloom the neighbor lady in a temporary sex dream. The adults chew with their mouths open. It's like going to the dentist and you don't quite know how to warble out the between the lines infidelity. Maybe he dreamed the betrayal. Aron is vegetarian like me. I had a similar scene when I was twelve of a force feeding of meat after hours at the dinner table. I threw mine up. I would bet his principles came back up like vomit when he keeps his words and eats their shit up. The girls in his class wear fuck me pants too. He goes to sleep then too. What good is all of his I Love Yous in dream to bed to a goofy smile and I don't know why my friend who is my friend again is fighting these fights of ideals with the girl I want to love so much to look for muses of love. Words, words, words. That's a happy time for me too. I would want to see something in someone and day dream like that too. You almost never need to hear what someone else would say if you can write for yourself far enough. My days are all like that. The best books let me do it. When Aron runs out and climbs into his fridge for his lone Houdini act... I knew how it was going to end and I wanted to write something else. DG wasn't going to let me. I guess he wanted to say not this time, you were too self absorbed a-hole. Stop trying to protect yourself by giving up. Mama wanted a normal boy. Or did he decide that for her. It hurts that your sister is never going to speak to you again in that funny little voice to tell you stories about things. Gideon is never going to have your back again. Did you really know what your young love, Yaeli, was going to say anyway? It was beautiful to me the way that he loved all of those dreams. I want to Aron right now. I want to write for myself a happy ending and stay there. I think about this a lot because I think a lot. I want to live in stories all of the time. It's the only time I ever feel okay, if I'm going someplace with them. Maybe Aron's problem is that there was no surprise? It's the breaking your own heart again. If Gideon didn't wait for him it's over. He forgot that there could have been more to the story. Damn, Aron.

You say it right with deep devotion, "a drop of blood," you see a beacon flashing forth as from a distant lighthouse, and certain words, if you know how to pronounce them in a special way, not from the outside but as though you were calling their names, right away they turn to you, they show you their pink penetralia, they purr to you and they're yours, they'll do anything you want; take "bell," for instance, he rolls it over his tongue as though tasting it for the first time ever, "bellll".
I miss Aron too. I miss Aroning, agonizing as it was to bash his knee caps. Doctors have those rubber things to see if your leg bounces back like it is supposed to bounce back. Aron tests the limits of his body in some way I guess could be called "magical realism". He just breaks. I don't want to call it that. I didn't care what magical realism was when I first read this and I didn't think about it the second time either. It's getting yourself so worked up that you can't see reality.I'm forgetting if he did it to himself that he's ten. He doesn't ask for help. Aron hits and hits for the knee jerk. Poor damn kid. I want Gideon to remember that they were friends (even though I wish that Aron didn't need Gideon). I want his Mama to go visit her mother in the hospital and take her kid to get checked out. It would probably feel like when her husband turns his back on Edna Bloom's fuck me backside for the crock pot he knows. It's not all the better for going back home. It's too late. I don't know what I would write for Aron. I hope it's not living as an old ten year old in his sister's house (but I hope she finds love. I love her descriptive notes about her numerous pen pals that Aron didn't understand. I got them. David Grossman knows his characters so well. He'd write them well past the books end, I just know it, if it wasn't Aron).

And in the midst of this, in the split-second interval between the blow and the pain, with the instinct of an elderly fourteen-and-a-half-year-old, he knew that the dancers were just as miserable as he was. That having a body is itself a defect. That even this gaiety they yielded to, this frenzied urge, was inwardly childish and playful, not deep, not really theirs, he sensed without words for it, in the darkened cell of his nascent mind: and all they have is a consolation prize, wonderful but strange and callow, the kind you use up quickly, in the shadows, with humiliating greed, with dark forebodings; this, like a letter, they would pass on to others...

I get the feeling that there may not be anyone but me (at least that I've found on the internet) who loves this book. Is it because of the poop jar samples in the Kleinfeld fridge? It's a 1960s Israel of light bulb flickering stares. It's a youth that's already been spent by the previous generation. Is it because Aron thinks too much? (It's probably the society that owns you. The fuck me pants and meat. It's probably the stream of consciousness style, dreaming and pages long sentences. I felt at home.) Dreams spending and breaking knee caps debts. It is exhausting. If you were close to him you would have to take care of him, not unless you wanted to follow where he's going. That would be exhausting. Can you save someone from themselves by writing for them? He would ask for a lot. I'm just worried. I wish I would be able to tell when you stop thinking about it too much. That's why you're supposed to grow up so no one else has to tell... Oh, damn it. At least have a story with a good surprise. That's how you can not die in your own bottle, I think. I hope. Would be great to have messages from other bottles. Aron to...? I guess I already said that about the surprise. I was hoping to get one out of me in writing this, actually. I think too much about this same type of shit, I think.

No, no, I can't come yet, he whispered, his eyes filling with regret. You see, I'm going away for a while, I'm entering the chrysalis phase of my disaster, Aroning into a cocoon.

[Lidija · Rating 5 out of 5]

Divna majstorija, još jedna iz pera Davida Grossmana. Iz duše, iz srca.
Kako taj čovjek piše! Kako iz, naizgled, banalnih stvari napravi priču, kako je osjetljiv na sve oko sebe, i na ljude, i na događaje, ne prolaze tek mimo njega, nego ih i danas, dok više nije dječak, zna osjetiti kao tada i onda ih prenijeti u ovakvom blistavom djelu.
Svima (posebno onima koji znaju reći kako su im životi nezanimljivi i kako se ništa važno ne događa) kažem - uzmite, čitajte! "Knjiga intimne gramatike" je divna!
Prijevod Andree Weiss Sadeh, kao i uvijek (a ovdje posebno) - maestralan. Brava!

[Stephen Gallup · Rating 4 out of 5]

This novel is opposite, in every way, from the Clancy book I read on the fly while in progress with this one. There could not be a clearer demonstration of the difference between two-dimensional stick figures and actual characters with depth and complexity.

On the other hand, the fact that Grossman has created living, breathing characters doesn't necessarily mean that getting on board the string of thoughts passing through their minds is a pleasant experience. I recognized the quality of the writing right away (long passages reminded me of the famous epiphany scene in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and the more surreal flourishes in One Hundred Years of Solitude). However, it's asking a lot of the reader when such passages go on for page after page with nary a paragraph break. There were times when continuing to read it felt like a chore, not only because of the density of what's on the page but also because of the pain portrayed.

The thing that originally attracted me to this one was the plot summary, where I learned that the main character, Aron, remains a child while his friends begin to mature. As a father who saw a son fall further and further behind his peers (albeit not in the same way), I wanted to see how the problem would be handled. That curiosity, plus my sympathy for Aron and the author's genius for pushing the envelope, overcame the resistance I felt and made the effort worthwhile.

As an example of what's involved here, the following is part of a description of Aron diverting himself outside the seedy housing project where he lives while trying to come to terms with the fact that his parents seem to be rejecting him:

...he streaked across the lawn and positioned himself in place to kick a goal with a spin to the left, but alas, too hard, too high, maybe he was wearing his jinxed shoes, excuses, excuses, and meanwhile, as the coach, Sir Alf Ramsey, calls the players in for a briefing, Aron dribbles with his famous left, concentrating on the automatic hop-hop, dribble-dribble; "dribble" is a wonderful word; and there's something else he doesn't understand, but who can he ask, it's about anger, their anger at him; he dribbles precisely, he's good at that, once he held the school record for dribbling, thirty-seven times with heading and shouldering, now it's working because of the word, dribble, dribble, hopping inside him like a tiny frog, ribble ribble, their anger at him, why, their contempt, even; to some extent their hatred; he needs his ball now, he hugs it to his stomach with all his might, he'll never surrender, never, and break down here in front of a million spectators, but why their anger...

I think the not-growing-up thing involves a rejection of the adult world, which to him means "enslavement and drudgery." That's even without the chaos and loss of an actual war, which looms ever more threateningly in the narrative, although Aron is incapable of thinking about it. Unfortunately, his alternative to growing up is hardly an adventurous escape to Never-Never Land. The pressure he feels leads into delusional thinking if not insanity.

Although this story did not shed light on the case of arrested development in my own family, for me it inspired greater compassion for anyone whose unknowable perceptions prevent effective communication with people who would gladly help if only they knew how.

That still does not make it an enjoyable read. I admire the author's wonderful talent and insight, but getting to the end was a hard slog.

[Shahar · Rating 3 out of 5]

I can not say that the book is not good. It Is written in a fascinating way and touching little nuances of life that i sometimes thought only I know.
But it was hard for me to read it - mainly because all the characters are on the verge of madness or insanity and could not connect to - or did not want to connect to - any character.
The Book is a reminder for me that although i have aged - i do not want to go back - especially not to the age of 14

[None Ofyourbusiness Loves Israel · Rating 5 out of 5]

In "The Book of Intimate Grammar," David Grossman paints Jerusalem's Beit HaKerem with the same nuanced brush that Shalev uses for the moshavim of the Jezreel Valley. Aron Kleinfeld, a 12-year-old boy brimming with curiosity and the courage to lead, navigates life in Jerusalem with his working-class family. As the sole male offspring, right before his bar mitzvah, the weight of family hopes rests heavily on his young shoulders.

Aron's days are spent in anticipation—awaiting the signs of puberty, clarity on the enigma of girls, and the key to a friendship with Gideon. His mind is a whirlwind of worry, oscillating between dismay at adult choices and the cunning use of their flaws. Moshe, his father, a survivor of a Russian labor camp, and Hinda, his mother, a matriarch with an iron grip on household affairs, provide a backdrop of stark contrasts for Aron's escapades.

The young protagonist's imagination is his escape hatch, with onion peels as his talisman to decipher thoughts and a self-crafted language – his "book of intimate grammar" – as his refuge. Meanwhile, Grandma Lilly's past as a glamorous actress and her current battle with senility cast dark clouds over the family's present.

Grossman weaves a story rich with magical descriptions and laced with dark humor. We see a child's fragile psyche grappling with the weight of history. Told entirely from Aron's perspective, the lyrical narrative is sprinkled with Yiddish flavor, striking a perfect balance between the poetic and the everyday. The prose, especially in its original Hebrew form, is a literary feast, leaving readers wanting more.

קצת פחות מבריק מכתבים אחרים של גרוסמן אך עדיין מעולה. נכס צאן ברזל ישראלי וירושלמי.

[Ingeborg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Grossman is a genius, one of my favorite authors. Four stars is just because I was more blown by his novel To the End of the Land and I wrote a review https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

The Book of Intimate Grammar is about so many things, it is hard to summarize it. Yes, it is about the childhood of one special boy, Aaron, he is sensitive and kind and very smart and full of ideas... But as he turns 14, he suddenly realizes he has stopped growing and all his friends around him are changing, growing beards and talking dirty things about girls... and he is still the same - he is short, he has no beard or hair on his legs, and he is still into 'kids' stuff. Now why is that - he keeps asking himself. At the beginning of the novel, this all seems normal - a special kid thinks everybody else is more mature, more self-confident, more adult... Most of us have had similar thoughts in this period, right? But close to the end his character changes in a somewhat unexpected way...

As always with Grossman, this is a very layered text. It is about growing up, experiencing first love and the loss of first friendships that have seemed like they would last forever, it is also about family and how it can suffocate us - while it protects us. There is also a thin thread of one of Grossman's favorite themes - how the traumas of older generations affect their children.

And most importantly, this novel is - as all good literature - about LANGUAGE itself. In the world of strange people around him, Aaron makes up words, his own language - and it becomes his shield, a place where he can hide in the face of the unlikable and often cruel reality for his sensitive soul. It is as if Grossman makes the metaphor of 'language constructs reality' alive. In his wonderful and important book Writing in the Dark: Essays on Literature and Politics he reminds us that each of us has his or her intimate, personal language and that we should use it, not to be suffocated by the language of politics and media that we tend to appropriate as our own. (in one of his interviews he said that there is no 'mass' of people that the media are addressing - they are actually creating this 'mass' by depriving us of our own personality, subjectivity and language). Language is important because it enables us to think - that's why it is so important which language we consider our own and how we choose to use it.

Grossman is showing all of this, not telling, this is real literature, full of interesting characters and their relationships, and after closing the book - you will feel like you have known them, lived with them and eaten at the same table - Aaron's mother and father, his sister, granny and neighbors - they will stick to you, stay with you, and you will remember them and their words or problems in the most ordinary situations. This is what the best literature does - it enables us to meet various people, to remember them always, feel for them, as if they were our own friends, family or slightly eccentric neighbors!

[Rainb0warri0r · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Ultimamente le parole dentro di lui erano diventate, nella sua solitudine, così interiori, come dire, doppiate in una grammatica così propria e tortuosa, come sarebbe stato possibile farle uscire fuori, alla luce."



Il secondo glorioso romanzo di Grossman.



Recensire questo romanzo non è facile, perché ho commesso l'errore (involontario) di partire dai suoi romanzi più recenti, e procedere poi a ritroso. Dopo aver letto i suoi ultimi capolavori è difficile mantenere una certa obiettività per questo suo secondo romanzo.

A rendere il compito ancora più arduo, il fatto questo romanzo sia il meno conosciuto, ed i pochi commenti che si trovano sono tutti negativi.

E' facile capire perché: lo stile è complesso, la narrazione un po' discontinua, e la trama sembra non voler andare a parare da nessuna parte.

Se dovessi dare dunque un giudizio allo stile, non basterebbero le stellette: Grossman qui si lascia andare allo sperimentalismo, fonde in un grande e glorioso flusso di coscienza TUTTO, tutti i pensieri, i ricordi del protagonista, ed i dialoghi, e le sensazioni più inconsce. E' uno stile meraviglioso, arricchito da una fenomenale padronanza della lingua e da certe trovate di una poeticità assoluta.

La narrazione, ecco, non ne è esattamente all'altezza. L'autore compie delle scelte che personalmente avrei evitato, allunga in maniera sorprendente certe scene, e poi procede con salti senza dare alcuna spiegazione. Il romanzo può essere inoltre facilmente scomposto in blocchi narrativi ben definiti, che sembrano sconnessi tra di loro. Nella parte centrale si delinea infatti un blocco narrativo in cui la voce del giovane protagonista si affievolisce fino a sparire, lasciando posto agli adulti, al punto di vista della strana Edna Blum, la vicina di casa che commissiona al padre del protagonista un lavoro di ristrutturazione dell'appartamento (in realtà è un vero e proprio lavoro di distruzione, che procede a fianco all'autodistruzione della donna). Ma questa sequenza narrativa poi si esaurisce, Edna Blum scompare, e quando ritorna il punto di vista del protagonista lo si scopre cresciuto (ma non fisicamente, e questo è il tema centrale dell'intero romanzo) ed innamorato, di punto in bianco.

Quanto alla trama è facile da definire, ma difficile da afferrare: Il libro della grammatica interiore è un romanzo di formazione in salsa Grossmaniana, è la storia di un ragazzino colto nella difficilissima fase di transizione all'adolescenza. E', per il protagonista, una fase di cambiamento, che però non si risolve affatto in una crescita: Aharon rimane uguale a se stesso, mentre vede il mondo mutare. La crescita, per lui, è una perdita: perdita degli amici, che cambiano interessi, perdita dell'innocenza dell'infanzia, e in cambio rimane intrappolato nel suo corpo da eterno bambino. Come risposta a tutto ciò, Aharon sceglie di rifugiarsi nel suo mondo interiore, fatto tutto di parole. Sono bellissime le continue disquisizioni sull'uso delle parole, ci sono continui giochi di parole, confronti tra la grammatica ebraica e quella inglese, e il tutto è ovviamente fuso nel ricchissimo flusso di coscienza. Il romanzo, dunque, in realtà è la storia di una non-crescita, e pertanto non può andare a parare da nessuna parte. E', per questo, e necessariamene, un romanzo anomalo, che non ha un vero inizio e non ha una vera fine, è solo la sequenza casuale di pensieri ed eventi e sentimenti.



In definitiva, avrei voluto dargli 5 stelline, ma devo fermarmi a 4. Perché se in questo romanzo lo stile abbaglia ed affascina (mai più Grossman si lascierà andare ad un flusso di coscienza così caotico), suonano chiaramente le stonature della narrazione. E, come se non bastasse, nonostante l'intensità della scrittura, il coinvolgimento è parziale, niente a che vedere, ad esempio, con le bellissime pagine di Che tu sia il coltello.

[Celeste · Rating 4 out of 5]

I gave it four stars because it is really well written, but I can't really say that I liked it. It is written in a stream of consciousness style from the perspective of a disturbed Israeli adolescent, and as a reader you really get caught up in his anxieties. I recognize and appreciate the literary talent it takes to do that, but every time I stopped reading I could feel the anxiety linger and that is just not a pleasant feeling.

[Eustachio · Rating 2 out of 5]

Di citazioni di Grossman è tappezzata tutta la blogosfera. Non mi sono mai degnato di leggerle, certo, ma da un autore così acclamato ci si aspetta un certo grado di commercialità, no? Eh no, non è così.
Perché si comincia a scrivere una storia? Perché si ha una storia da raccontare, presumo. In questo caso la storia sembra non esserci per la metà del libro: c'è Aharon che non cresce, né fisicamente né caratterialmente, mentre le persone che ha attorno cambiano. Detto così sembra il Peter Pan degli ebrei. Leggendo la quarta di copertina sembrerebbe addirittura avere a che fare con Dedalus di Joyce, che però non ho ancora letto e quindi non so quanto possa essere ingiusto come paragone.
Dicevo: la storia è un canovaccio molto debole che si fa vedere ogni tanto, in un mare di parole senza fine, perché sì, la grammatica interiore del titolo non è una cosa a caso, c'è davvero una grammatica interiore, ma davvero?, sì proprio così, è così interiore che Grossman non è stato in grado di esplicitarla, gli è rimasta dentro, un'indigestione, ecco cos'è, e poi esplode, esplode e ti travolge, un fiume di parole e frasi e periodi che non hanno fine, puff, cambia argomento, no era una finta, parlavamo di questo fiume di parole che ti travolge e che continua per pagine e pagine, non azzardarti a distrarti perché perdi il filo, scemo, ma che dici, qui ci starebbe bene un punto, eh no, a Grossman di punti gliene hanno dati pochi, è parsimonioso lui, sa che non ci sono abbastanza virgole nel mondo e ha voluto creare un nuovo record, credo ci sia riuscito, poi magari neanche si degna di rileggere perché quello che scrive è arte, gli viene così, con grazia, poesia pura, la musa di Aharon, che magia, un fiume che ti travolge, senza fine, come la vita, la vita ferma di Aharon, le vite degli altri, chissà che faranno poi, voglio dire dopo che il libro è finito, chissà se anche loro tirano un sospiro di sollievo perché finalmente possono tornare a respirare ché si sono liberati di questi periodi immensi.
Che poi la cosa odiosa è che dopo questo fiume di pseudo flusso di coscienza (pseudo perché non è sempre chiaro di chi sia, a volte sembra dell'autore stesso, a volte di Aharon, a volte di tutti i personaggi che ha intorno, a volte sono anche solo dialoghi o azioni che scrivere normalmente pareva troppo banale, quindi più in generale è un insieme di parole a caso riguardante un po' tutto) — dicevo, dopo aver chiuso un capitolo, riprende il successivo in maniera chiara, con calma, e tu ti illudi che è la volta buona che gli hanno insegnato ad andare a capo e a mettere qualche punto qua e là. Eh no. Ti frega e ti ritrovi con le lacrime agli occhi perché non c'è un punto neanche a pregarlo, se ti distrai rischi di dover ricominciare da capo perché non c'è un rientro di paragrafo che ti dica: "Ehi, tranquillo, suppergiù eri qui, ricomincia con calma, andrà tutto bene".
Ma poi mi dico, forse è il suo stile. Lo stile, certo! Non dev'essere per forza chiara la narrativa, non dev'essere per forza commerciale, magari è un autore ermetico, magari vuole trasmettere qualcosa attraverso la difficoltà di lettura e comprensione. Magari sono esasperato perché era quello che voleva Grossman, quindi va bene così. Magari. No, seriamente, voglio credere che questo sia uno stile. Non capisco cosa ci sia di bello nell'essere così ermetico e pesante e confusionario, ok, e non capisco come un editore possa aver letto questa roba e aver deciso che valeva la pena pubblicarla, ma...
Perché sapete, a me ogni tanto viene il ghiribizzo di prendere qualche testo incredibilmente noioso e illeggibile pubblicato da un autore famoso, cambiare il nome dei personaggi e dei luoghi e così via e proporlo allo stesso editore che ha pubblicato il romanzo originale presentandolo come una cosa mia. Può darsi che una volta arrivi a farlo davvero, ma sono sicuro che l'editore rifiuterebbe seduta stante, senza accertare la sensazione di déjà vu che lo attanaglia da pagina tre (anche perché non ci arriverebbe).
No, ok, sono un po' ingiusto e un po' esasperato, e in fondo ho messo due stelline e non una perché non fa proprio così schifo. Alcune parti scorrono bene, quando il flusso ha un senso non è difficile seguirlo, ad Aharon un po' ti ci affezioni e nel complesso la storia in sé per quanto misera non è così terribile.
Se solo fosse sempre così, se solo nella sua interezza fosse stato degno di essere scritto/pubblicato/letto, forse mi sarebbe piaciuto di più.

Leggerò qualcos'altro di Grossman? Eh no.

[Lara Van Den Bosch · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mooi boek. Over gevoelig jongetje dat niet ouder wil worden. Heel psychologisch en invoelbaar. David Grossman is echt een held. Ik hou erg van zijn boeken.

[Elisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Het was aanvankelijk wennen aan de stijl van dit boek: de soms ellenlange, gekapte zinnen zwiepen heen en weer tussen de gebeurtenissen en de gedachten van de verteller en maken het ritme haastig en gejaagd. Dat er bovendien heel wat wordt gesuggereerd maar niet uitgesproken zadelt de lezer op met een boel vragen en een zeker gevoel van onbehagen. Gaandeweg ontdek je dan waarover het boek eigenlijk gaat en hoe de stijl naadloos aansluit bij het onderwerp: het wanhopige en uitzichtloze gevecht van een jonge tiener om kind te blijven en de lelijkheid van de volwassen wereld buiten te houden. Een wat bevreemdend en niet altijd gemakkelijk boek, waarin je desondanks toch blijft lezen, benieuwd of het einde je, ondanks de onontkoombare voorspelbaarheid, toch zal verrassen. En dat doet het. Het einde is even enigmatisch als het leven zelf.
Eén prachtig citaat om af te sluiten: "Hij zou opnieuw leren spelen, op zijn nieuwe gitaar zou hij spelen, op een gouden fluit zou hij fluiten, hij zou met zijn muziek de kinderen weer achter zich aan voeren, er zou een prinsenkroon op zijn hoofd gezet worden, en hij zou verhalen vertellen, dromen duiden, hongersnoden stillen, in doorzichtige knikkers zou hij de stralenkrans vangen die afstraalde van de dingen op de wereld."

[Krishna Avendaño · Rating 4 out of 5]

Leer a David Grossman es dialogar con uno de los mayores estilistas del lenguaje hoy en día, una experiencia que puede ser tan grata como extenuante. Autor que en sus mejores momentos es brillante pero que en los peores peca de decir de más. Sus obras son vastas, generosas, quizá demasiado, como un banquete de cinco estrellas en el que siguen llegando platos a la mesa a pesar de que los comensales están satisfechos, algo que incluso sucede en sus novelas juveniles (véase la excelente Chico zigzag). El libro de la gramática interna, cuyo tema superficial es el paso de la infancia a la adolescencia, exige más que la atención del lector porque se trata de una de esas novelas que requieren de un momento preciso y que no han de leerse en un impulso. Confieso haber puesto a un lado el libro en más de una ocasión. Lo retomé en otro momento, en circunstancias y ánimo más propicios. Para entonces, absorbido por la lectura y la confrontación del protagonista con el mundo adulto, olvidé que debía hacer cosas básicas, como comer, por ejemplo. Le agradezco a Grossman el hambre. Estaba harto de permanecer frío ante tantos libros últimamente.

[Anibalector · Rating 3 out of 5]

Am mai spus-o și o repet: să scrii pentru copii sau despre copii este cel mai greu lucru din lume, fiindcă atât copiii, cât și copilăria sunt subiecte care pot scăpa ușor din mâna unui autor neexperimentat sau prea zelos. Când scrii pentru copii trebuie să ai o mână formată și să înțelegi că un copil nu are aceeași percepție asupra timpului și a lumii ca un om mare, așa că se poate plictisi repede și poate să dea cu cartea de pământ cât ai zice: copilărie! Iar când scrii despre copilărie e nevoie să nu cazi în clișeu sau în derizoriu, fiindcă această perioadă din viața fiecărui om este una care definește, care formează și care rămâne în mintea fiecăruia toată viața, și dacă nu ai bine lipită de cortex propria ta experiența, dacă nu observi cu atenție interacțiunea dintre copii, o poți da în bară. De aceea, mulți autori care scriu despre copilărie/copii, ori sunt mult prea naivi, și îi dau o aură extrem de feerică și de inocentă, de parcă viața unui copil s-ar desfășura într-o Arcadie, ori tind să scoată mai mult răul, angoasele, fricile copilăriei și uită de ludic, uită de vise, uită de realitate

citeste mai mult>http://semnebune.ro/z/kb5

[HeyJude]

Beautifully nuanced characters, they credibly come alive. A street smart Jewish mother, crass and abusive. Occasional laugh-out-loud scenes. But an excruciating read, sustaining pages and pages of stream of consciousness, is it really necessary? But Grossman is a modern day prophet, haranguing the folk, to mend our ways. The end is nigh. Bewailing the impossibility of our task. And yet…and yet… Emmanuel… the power of literature and imagination to challenge the dark & maybe grow towards the light.

[Michael Scott · Rating 3 out of 5]

TODO
+ universal coming-of-age story
+++ tragedy of a smart and skinny kid. today, we would be taking abusively about a nerd. back then, its the tragic lack of integration with the regular world
+ Jewish family facing modernism
+ Jewish neighborhood: the gossip, the trite, the sharing, the affair, the mensch-ism, and the gescheft
+/- the style is cursive and flowery, but also often old-fashioned. this matches the subject, but makes for a difficult read and imo does not match the kid's way of acting.
- many of the scenes, even seen through the young boy's eyes, are much ago about nothing---I simply could not get moved
- the ending was weak

[Velvetink · Rating 3 out of 5]

There is a lot of Yiddish in the book - such as.....Im hayu samim et hamo'ach shelcha b'tarnegol, hu haya ratz yashar l'shochet tafsik lezyen = "If they had to put your brain in a chicken, it would run straight to the butcher". Quite a lot I am still trying to translate.

I was shocked at the ending, it takes you places mentally that you might not want to go.

[David Monteith · Rating 3 out of 5]

Beautifully written, but I had a hard time sticking with it. I think it was mostly a matter of timing. At a different time I probably would have enjoyed it more. I'm still planning to read more books by this author.

[Jenny Holland · Rating 4 out of 5]

An intense read--like one big long exhale. The kind of book you could read over and over because there's just too much to absorb the first time. Really liked it in many ways, though not sure I'll actually read it again. A little exhausting. Give it a go, though--a unique experience.

[Avital · Rating 5 out of 5]

While reading it, I admired the writer's command of the language, and the literary use he made of it. I wonder how it works in other language than Hebrew.

[Fragmentage · Rating 3 out of 5]

schwer, grotesk, melancholisch, herzzerreißend, zäh, wortreich, trist, genial, hoffnungslos - das sind die Adjektive, die mir nach der Lektüre dieses großen Romans in den Sinn kommen.

[Hermien · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have read some good books by David Grossman, but I really struggled with this one. It started off interestingly enough but I had to force myself to finish it.

[Adva Kimchi · Rating 5 out of 5]

ספר מרגש ומעורר מחשבות וזכרונות. כתוב בצורה סוריאליסטית פיוטית אבל גם הכי כנה וארצית. נהניתי מכל רגע.

[Mullmuzzler · Rating 2 out of 5]

Un libro que estuve muy tentado a darle tres estrellas debido a las por momentos brillantes reflexiones del personaje principal, más que brillantes por su sapiencia, lo que en muchos momentos disfruté de las mismas fue el hecho de sentirlas auténticas, creíbles y que verdaderamente reflejan muchos de los sentimientos que se tienen en la niñez, en especial las inseguridades y el miedo inconsciente de dejar la infancia, el comenzar a dilucidar de manera real lo que es bueno y malo, la lucha entre las sensaciones internas y su conflicto con las "leyes de los adultos", toda esta parte creo que es muy buena y se vuelve casi brillante por parte del autor. No es fácil escribir algo que luzca real y auténtico, mucho menos en un novela donde generalmente las historias se sostienen con uno o más eventos pilares o impactantes. Este mismo sentido de realidad que en un momento dado pensé sería su principal fortaleza es lo que termina hundiendo al libro, existen pasajes y pasajes que no van a ningún lado, ningún evento importante a pesar de que está ambientado en los días previos a La Guerra De los Seis Días (uno de los motivos por los que me interesó este libro), el contexto social, político y económico es apenas mostrado y explicado, como si los personajes vivieran en una burbuja ajena a todo ese ambiente de tensión política, solo enfocados a sus problemas cotidianos. Sin que sea un "spoiler" per se, uno está a la expectativa de que "algo" pase durante el libro y al final realmente nunca llegó ese momento. Un libro casi narrado en su totalidad por los pensamientos Aharon el niño protagonista. Le doy dos estrellas porque al menos logró mantenerme a la expectativa y finalmente logré terminarlo.

[Socrate · Rating 3 out of 5]

Aaron se săltă în vârful picioarelor ca să vadă mai bine ce st' petrece jos, pe tata şi pe mama care ieşiseră să respire puţin aer proaspăt la sfârşitul unei zile de arşiţă. De aici par atât de mici. Un gust iritant de praf pe buze şi în nări. Ochii îi sticleau. Nu i frumos să te uiţi la ei aşa. Cum „aşa”. Aşa, de sus. De aici par mititei de tot. Ca două păpuşi. Una mare şi grasă şi înceată, Iar a doua mică şi ascuţită toată. Nu-i frumos aşa. Dar, pe de altă parte, e amuzant. Şi ce e amuzant trezeşte şi niţică teamă. Şi ce e mai cu seamă sâcâitor e că şi Tzahi, şi Ghideon, de lângă el, îi văd aşa. Dar nu e-n stare să se rupă de priveliştea asta. I laide, veniţi odată, bodogăneşte Tzahi strivindu-şi de jaluzea nasul lui cel gros, aia se întoarce într-o clipă şi atunci s-a zis aici cu noi. Uitaţi-vă, şopti Aaron, ies afară şi O-para-jumate. El o să moară în curând, spuse Ghideon, uitaţi-vă la el ce galben e, Kaminer, chiar şi de-aici se vede c-o să moară.

[Joni 与仁 · Rating 3 out of 5]

I probably read the book at a bad time. I didn't really get into it from start to finish, I hardly read more than 20-30 pages a day and hardly felt like it. Sometimes it felt like a fever dream to me; the bizarre development of the protagonist, which was actually the case, but kept throwing me off because I thought I'd missed something beforehand.

But that's exactly what the novel is about: Aaron's personal development in a sick environment. Grossmann has, commendably, written a story about a child that takes on more than the flowery or exaggerated aspects of childhood stylised by adult authors. In retrospect, this is a theme that actually appeals to me, and had I known about it beforehand, my reading experience would certainly have been different. But as it was, the language seemed too overloaded, too excessive and distracting.

[Corey Davis · Rating 5 out of 5]

this may be one of the best coming-of-age novels ever written, or, at least, one of the truest. a forefront of adolescent turmoil against a backdrop of looming war makes for a profound parallel. the stream of consciousness narrative style is altogether poignant, hilarious, brutal, demanding, exhausting, heartbreaking, horrifying---but the payoff for digging deep and sticking with it is well worth the labor. plus, even in translation, Grossman's writing sparkles on every page. who knew a blind buy at an independent bookstore in Tuscaloosa, AL, would yield me a new favorite!

[Adrian · Rating 5 out of 5]

"dacă te îndrăgostesti de cineva e ca si cum l-ai salva putin de la moarte, si bineînteles si cel care se îndrăgosteste se salvează."

"ce prietenie e asta, că voi tot timpul numai ascundeti de ei totul, si tot ce vreti e ca ei să vă invidieze, si nu le povestiti nimic din ce e cu adevărat important pentru voi."

"bine, la urmă nu s-a terminat asa cum gândeai tu, niciodată nimic nu se termină asa cum credem noi, da, niciodată, mai ales atunci când esti copil"

[Tsippora · Rating 2 out of 5]

אני מרגישה ממש סתומה אבל פשוט לא הבנתי את הספר הזה.
כל הזמן חיכיתי להגיע לאיזה חלק שיקשור את הכל ביחד בשבילי אבל זה לא קרה.
מזכיר לי קצת את "כמה טוב להיות פרח קיר" אבל בשונה ממנו לא הזדהיתי בכלל עם שום דבר בספר הזה. אולי זה רק אני.

i feel really dumb but i just didn't get this book. i kept waiting for a moment where everything clicked together and made sense but it never came. it reminds me of "perks of being a wallflower" but unlike it, no part of this resonated with me in any way.

[Ingrid · Rating 5 out of 5]

Aron Kleinfeld ranks with Alexander Portnoy, Oskar Matzerath, Holden Caulfield and Owen Meany in the pantheon of angst-ridden heroes of bildungsromans. His struggles with his uncooperative body, his dysfunctional family, the loss of childhood and childhood friendships, and stirrings of first romance in a Jerusalem neighbourhood in the year leading up to the Six Day War are all told in high definition, sensuous detail.

[David B. · Rating 2 out of 5]

ספר כבד שלא היה לי כיף לקרוא. לקטעים חשבתי למה גרוסמן כל כך מכביד במילים בתאורים שלו. יש פסקאות שנפרשות של מספר עמודים שגרמו לי לחשוב האם אני בתחרות קריאה של טקסט. לא מומלץ למי שכמוני, לא מיכן לעזוב ספר באמצע,