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Mr Vertigo
Walt è un ragazzino senza futuro nell’America degli anni Venti. È orfano, vive nelle strade di St Louis, ma possiede un dono naturale e Maestro Yehudi, un personaggio misterioso, gli promette di insegnargli a volare. Inizia così l’avventura di Walt, il bambino prodigio destinato a diventare la star di uno spettacolo ambulante che lo porta ad attraversare la storia di mezzo secolo americano tra incursioni del Ku Klux Klan, storie di gangster, giocatori di baseball e vite bruciate. Finché un giorno smette di essere un fenomeno. E comprende che importante non è solo volare, ma anche capire quando si deve tornare a terra e vivere con dignità la vita di ogni uomo, del più anonimo e banale degli uomini.
281 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1994
345 people are currently reading
8942 people want to read
About the author
Paul Auster
228 books12.1k followersPaul Auster was the bestselling author of 4 3 2 1, Bloodbath Nation, Baumgartner, The Book of Illusions, and The New York Trilogy, among many other works. In 2006 he was awarded the Prince of Asturias Prize for Literature. Among his other honors are the Prix Médicis Étranger for Leviathan, the Independent Spirit Award for the screenplay of Smoke, and the Premio Napoli for Sunset Park. In 2012, he was the first recipient of the NYC Literary Honors in the category of fiction. He was also a finalist for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award (The Book of Illusions), the PEN/Faulkner Award (The Music of Chance), the Edgar Award (City of Glass), and the Man Booker Prize (4 3 2 1). Auster was a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters and a Commandeur de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres. His work has been translated into more than forty languages. He died at age seventy-seven in 2024.
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October 24, 2020
For Your Own Good
What is this thing? A parable of spiritual self-development? A re-telling of the Wizard of Oz from the point of view of the Wicked Witch? A case study in Stockholm Syndrome? Whatever Auster meant it to be, it is uninspiring, unedifying, and, as far as I can tell, meaningless - a collection of miscellaneous writerly bits and pieces dumped in the same bin bag of a novel because the mess was getting underfoot. It may be a dot on the literary map of Auster’s journey but not much more.
Exceptionally cruel child abuse in the cause of a carnival levitation act is not the most promising of story lines. Nor are the characters involved in the story - the obnoxious St. Louis street urchin, the Hungarian rabbi and mystical teacher, the ricketty black genius from Georgia, the drunken Wichita widow on the make, and the toothless Sioux matron who rode with Wild Bill Cody. They are little more than just weird ‘types’, ingredients thrown together to see what the resulting goulash might taste like. And aside from the ‘wax on, wax off’ 33-Step Program by the Mr. Miyagi-like Hungarian Master, there is no intellectual or spiritual take-away.
The relentless prose of the senescent narrator as he relates his largely non-adventures is relieved only occasionally by his youthful voice of sarcasm, resistance, and regret. But that too gets old rapidly. The mystery of the missing 60 years or so between the two is not enough to sustain the reader’s attention. Sure “there comes a time in every levitator’s career when the air is fraught with peril” But that doesn’t really conjure up any sympathy. Nor does it explain the transition by the urchin from carnival act to baseball-obsessed mobster and on to launderette manager with a sexual penchant for the elderly.
It frequently appears that Auster loses interest in his own story when he has nothing on the shelf to fill in page-bulk. An absurd fantasy about the baseball player Dizzy Dean goes on interminably; While crucial decades are compressed into single sentences. Motivations are absent, forced, or just silly. Something is driving these people but it’s never described much less defined. And whatever it is has no connection with life as it exists on this planet, except perhaps Auster’s deadline.
It is not inconceivable that Auster internalised Robertson Davies’s Deptford Trilogy, written two decades previously, and decided it would be better re-written in the style of Gabriel Garcia Márquez - a sort of North American magic realism. A very strange melange, quesadillas with maple syrup perhaps. It’s not a great theory but at least it stops further fruitless search for significance beyond Auster’s implicit advice to steer clear of Kansas. But that I already knew.
What is this thing? A parable of spiritual self-development? A re-telling of the Wizard of Oz from the point of view of the Wicked Witch? A case study in Stockholm Syndrome? Whatever Auster meant it to be, it is uninspiring, unedifying, and, as far as I can tell, meaningless - a collection of miscellaneous writerly bits and pieces dumped in the same bin bag of a novel because the mess was getting underfoot. It may be a dot on the literary map of Auster’s journey but not much more.
Exceptionally cruel child abuse in the cause of a carnival levitation act is not the most promising of story lines. Nor are the characters involved in the story - the obnoxious St. Louis street urchin, the Hungarian rabbi and mystical teacher, the ricketty black genius from Georgia, the drunken Wichita widow on the make, and the toothless Sioux matron who rode with Wild Bill Cody. They are little more than just weird ‘types’, ingredients thrown together to see what the resulting goulash might taste like. And aside from the ‘wax on, wax off’ 33-Step Program by the Mr. Miyagi-like Hungarian Master, there is no intellectual or spiritual take-away.
The relentless prose of the senescent narrator as he relates his largely non-adventures is relieved only occasionally by his youthful voice of sarcasm, resistance, and regret. But that too gets old rapidly. The mystery of the missing 60 years or so between the two is not enough to sustain the reader’s attention. Sure “there comes a time in every levitator’s career when the air is fraught with peril” But that doesn’t really conjure up any sympathy. Nor does it explain the transition by the urchin from carnival act to baseball-obsessed mobster and on to launderette manager with a sexual penchant for the elderly.
It frequently appears that Auster loses interest in his own story when he has nothing on the shelf to fill in page-bulk. An absurd fantasy about the baseball player Dizzy Dean goes on interminably; While crucial decades are compressed into single sentences. Motivations are absent, forced, or just silly. Something is driving these people but it’s never described much less defined. And whatever it is has no connection with life as it exists on this planet, except perhaps Auster’s deadline.
It is not inconceivable that Auster internalised Robertson Davies’s Deptford Trilogy, written two decades previously, and decided it would be better re-written in the style of Gabriel Garcia Márquez - a sort of North American magic realism. A very strange melange, quesadillas with maple syrup perhaps. It’s not a great theory but at least it stops further fruitless search for significance beyond Auster’s implicit advice to steer clear of Kansas. But that I already knew.
July 15, 2016
اختارني الأستاذ لأنني كنت الأضأل جسماً والأقذر والأكثر خسة. قال: "لستَ أفضل من حيوان، إنك جزء من العدم الإنساني". هذه أول جملة قالها لي، ورغم مرور ثمانية وستين عاماً على تلك الليلة، يبدو وكأنني مازلت أسمع الكلمات تنبعث من فم الأستاذ: "لستَ أفضل من حيوان. ستموت قبل انتهاء الشتاء إذا بقيتَ حيث أنت. وسأعلمك كيف تطير إذا أتيتَ معي"
كهدية عيد : )
هذا الرجل حكاء قدير مذهل ينسج خطوط الحكايا كما النسيج المغزول.. لا شئ في غير موضعه، لا شئ أقل إمتاعًا مما سواه
للتحميل:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B69M...
September 17, 2014
I read this book for class. No, I'm not going to follow that with an 'and thus I hated it', so if that's your type of thing, shoo. I won't deny that some of those mandated readings during those readers of yore were a total slog, but that was more if not wholly due to extenuating circumstances of teaching style/my young self than the novel itself. Now that I'm older and have an almost obsessively vested interest in literature, I can look at these classroom assignments in book form and say, hm. That really wasn't so bad.
More than not bad, actually. Not great, but rather good, the rough sort of polish that would in fact be much more appropriate to the high school setting than all that Shakespeare and Dickens and a whole host of other books that should only be taught if the teacher really knows what they're doing, and that rarely happens, if at all. The one case I can personally remember of complete and utter success was that of senior year Hamlet; the rest barely surface in the memory as a quick liked or didn't like notation, except for the couple that I absolutely loathed. Now, I can't claim that, had I been offered Mr. Vertigo for inspection fully acquitted by state standards of education, I would remember it today in a positive, well-that-was-worth-it light. I am fairly certain, though, there would have been a very good chance of it.
First thing, this is not the Great American Novel. Which is fantastic, because frankly that is not the sort of thing that the majority of high school students are going to give the smallest flying crap about. Instead, it is a very American Novel. Easily swallowable sentences, fast paced action, the kind of visual imagery well adapted to the movie screen, and vulgar realism in the manner of 1920's United States, home of vaudeville, baseball, and the thick and viscous grime of rampant racism that flowed with all the speed of a horde of horsed members of the Ku Klux Klan. Also, did I mention swearing? Because swearing.
So, this novel is not tidy. It is not nice. It is not highflown with phenomenal use of language or aspirations towards justice in the sort of prettied up metaphorics that will either astound you or send you to sleep, depending on just how much you care about the potential of the written word, which when concerning the average high school reader with the average high school English teacher is close to nil. Or college English professor, because while I have to thank the prof for getting me to read this, my enjoyment would have been a stunted and sluggish thing had I completely relied on his guidance. Regardless, with this complete lack of all those characteristics of 'highbrow' literature (which I love, I really do, but the cults clamoring around all these mostly dead old white men? not so much), what does this book have to offer?
What it has to offer is a a good ol' tugging on the emotions in every direction, a straightforward stripping down of stereotypes into their viciously ignorant realities including the horrors that result from such, and heart. So much heart that I guarantee a few of even those oh so hardened high school kids will bawl their eyes out at least once by the time the last page is turned. Better yet, they will have understood exactly what this book is trying to achieve, beyond all the insipid blatherings of symbolism and foreshadowing and every other keyword that makes me wince whenever I'm forced to use them in my own writing. They will identify this little boy, this pompous prat, who starts out as the most racist brat that ever spewed out bigoted phrases a mile a minute, and ends as an old man who has ridden the highs, drowned in the lows, and is typical in every way except the amazing life he led, and all that he carved into his bones from it. Best of all, they will see the US in its glory and its filth, and will be left to decide on their own terms just how they will deal with it. Something that few, if any, high school books that I remember dealt with in such a tender and unflinching fashion. To Kill a Mockingbird is one thing; a look at prejudiced realities with all their specific language and harmful effects without one bit of comforting distance is quite another.
In short, if I ever find myself at the head of a high school English classroom (looking more plausible by the day), I'll be keeping this book in mind. Okay, so the book is easy to read, and won't challenge high schoolers as much (on a ridiculously incomprehensible level) as 'David Copperfield' or 'The Odyssey'. Who cares? Look, we'll keep those, but how about sacrificing a Hemingway in the name of something enjoyable that isn't riddled with misogyny and other bigoted bents? It's not like he isn't plenty popular enough, and truthfully, The Sun Also Rises hurt my soul. I'll keep it on for outside reading though, make everyone happy.
So. How about it?
More than not bad, actually. Not great, but rather good, the rough sort of polish that would in fact be much more appropriate to the high school setting than all that Shakespeare and Dickens and a whole host of other books that should only be taught if the teacher really knows what they're doing, and that rarely happens, if at all. The one case I can personally remember of complete and utter success was that of senior year Hamlet; the rest barely surface in the memory as a quick liked or didn't like notation, except for the couple that I absolutely loathed. Now, I can't claim that, had I been offered Mr. Vertigo for inspection fully acquitted by state standards of education, I would remember it today in a positive, well-that-was-worth-it light. I am fairly certain, though, there would have been a very good chance of it.
First thing, this is not the Great American Novel. Which is fantastic, because frankly that is not the sort of thing that the majority of high school students are going to give the smallest flying crap about. Instead, it is a very American Novel. Easily swallowable sentences, fast paced action, the kind of visual imagery well adapted to the movie screen, and vulgar realism in the manner of 1920's United States, home of vaudeville, baseball, and the thick and viscous grime of rampant racism that flowed with all the speed of a horde of horsed members of the Ku Klux Klan. Also, did I mention swearing? Because swearing.
So, this novel is not tidy. It is not nice. It is not highflown with phenomenal use of language or aspirations towards justice in the sort of prettied up metaphorics that will either astound you or send you to sleep, depending on just how much you care about the potential of the written word, which when concerning the average high school reader with the average high school English teacher is close to nil. Or college English professor, because while I have to thank the prof for getting me to read this, my enjoyment would have been a stunted and sluggish thing had I completely relied on his guidance. Regardless, with this complete lack of all those characteristics of 'highbrow' literature (which I love, I really do, but the cults clamoring around all these mostly dead old white men? not so much), what does this book have to offer?
What it has to offer is a a good ol' tugging on the emotions in every direction, a straightforward stripping down of stereotypes into their viciously ignorant realities including the horrors that result from such, and heart. So much heart that I guarantee a few of even those oh so hardened high school kids will bawl their eyes out at least once by the time the last page is turned. Better yet, they will have understood exactly what this book is trying to achieve, beyond all the insipid blatherings of symbolism and foreshadowing and every other keyword that makes me wince whenever I'm forced to use them in my own writing. They will identify this little boy, this pompous prat, who starts out as the most racist brat that ever spewed out bigoted phrases a mile a minute, and ends as an old man who has ridden the highs, drowned in the lows, and is typical in every way except the amazing life he led, and all that he carved into his bones from it. Best of all, they will see the US in its glory and its filth, and will be left to decide on their own terms just how they will deal with it. Something that few, if any, high school books that I remember dealt with in such a tender and unflinching fashion. To Kill a Mockingbird is one thing; a look at prejudiced realities with all their specific language and harmful effects without one bit of comforting distance is quite another.
In short, if I ever find myself at the head of a high school English classroom (looking more plausible by the day), I'll be keeping this book in mind. Okay, so the book is easy to read, and won't challenge high schoolers as much (on a ridiculously incomprehensible level) as 'David Copperfield' or 'The Odyssey'. Who cares? Look, we'll keep those, but how about sacrificing a Hemingway in the name of something enjoyable that isn't riddled with misogyny and other bigoted bents? It's not like he isn't plenty popular enough, and truthfully, The Sun Also Rises hurt my soul. I'll keep it on for outside reading though, make everyone happy.
So. How about it?
July 30, 2025
بول أوستر قاصٍ مذهل خلق عالماً حياً وصاخبا تتلاحق فيه الأحداث لتصنع مشهدا سينمائيا لا تستطيع أن تحيد بصرك عنه.
وفي خضم هذا الجنون الذي يضعك فيه أوستر لا تملك إلا أن تسأل نفسك، ما المعنى من ذلك كله؟
هل القصة بشخوصها وأحداثها الغرائبية هى مجرد تعبير ورمز لأمريكا أرض العجائب والمعجزات التي يمكنك أن تُشاهد فيها أي شىء ويمكن أن يحدث فيها كل شىء؟ لا تستطيع أن تتوقع من يرتفع غداُ ومن سيسقط اليوم. أبطال لا يشيخون وأبطال يموتون فجأة دون توقع. ومن يسقط، لديه دائماً الفرصة لكي يقف مرة ثانية فقط اذا اراد ذلك.
لم يخُفت شغفي وفضولي للقراءة للنهاية حتى بعدما وصلت للمنتصف ووجدت أنني لا أعرف ما هدف ما يجري أمامي من أحداث. فالشخصيات تتطور وتتغير ولكن القصة نفسها تمضي في دائرة لا نهائية بين عقدة وحل لتلك العقدة كفيلم مغامرات متقن ولكن بلا مغزى..
وربما كان هذا هدف أوستر لخلق تلك القصة. ربما قصد أن يخلق حياة تدور في حلقات مفرغة عبثية حتى النهاية. بطل يخوض حياة صاخبة ساحرة شبيهة بالملاحم أو الأساطير، فقط لينتهي إلى عيش حياة شديدة العادية. شخص عاش حياة تماثل حياة فرد بارز من عصابات أل كابوني أو الساحر هوديني، وتنتهي حياته كما تنتهي حياة موظف في شركة تأمينات. ولم أستطع أن اعرف هل كان البطل "والت" راضيا بتلك النهاية أم لا؟ وربما هذا هو ما أزعجني.
وصف أوستر ككل سواء للمكان والزمن وكل ما يحيط الأبطال من كيانٍ مادي هو مدهش كما سبق وقلت. وأكثر ما سحرني هو وصفه لمشاهد محاولات طيران "والت" والتي تماثل تماما إحساسي في احلام النوم الكثيرة-وأعرف انها أحلام الكثيرين غيري- بالطيران. الإحساس بالخفة والنشوة والحرية.
أظن أن هذا الحلم يراود البشر جميعهم في النوم. أن يرتفعوا عن مكان وقوفهم، أن تجذبهم جاذبية السماء بدلا من جاذبية الأرض، أن يكونوا أعلى ممن حولهم وأقدر على الهروب مما يهددهم بينما ينظرون إلى الخطر من الأعلى ساخرين منه منتشين بنجاتهم. إحساس لسعادته خدر لا نحسه إلا في عالم الغفو.
ولهذا تألم "والت" أشد ألم عندما فقد قدرته على الطيران لدرجة تفكيره في التضحية بجزء من جسده كثمن لعودة تلك القدرة الخارقة.
لا أعرف إذا كنت محقة في ظني بأن أوستر كان هدفه "الإبهار" في تلك القصة أكثر مما كان يهدف إلى إيصال معنى أو مغزى واحد أم لا. لكني لن أنكر استمتاعي الشديد بها ولن أبخس أوستر حقه في الإشادة بقدرته المذهلة على الابهار ككاتب.
وفي خضم هذا الجنون الذي يضعك فيه أوستر لا تملك إلا أن تسأل نفسك، ما المعنى من ذلك كله؟
هل القصة بشخوصها وأحداثها الغرائبية هى مجرد تعبير ورمز لأمريكا أرض العجائب والمعجزات التي يمكنك أن تُشاهد فيها أي شىء ويمكن أن يحدث فيها كل شىء؟ لا تستطيع أن تتوقع من يرتفع غداُ ومن سيسقط اليوم. أبطال لا يشيخون وأبطال يموتون فجأة دون توقع. ومن يسقط، لديه دائماً الفرصة لكي يقف مرة ثانية فقط اذا اراد ذلك.
لم يخُفت شغفي وفضولي للقراءة للنهاية حتى بعدما وصلت للمنتصف ووجدت أنني لا أعرف ما هدف ما يجري أمامي من أحداث. فالشخصيات تتطور وتتغير ولكن القصة نفسها تمضي في دائرة لا نهائية بين عقدة وحل لتلك العقدة كفيلم مغامرات متقن ولكن بلا مغزى..
وربما كان هذا هدف أوستر لخلق تلك القصة. ربما قصد أن يخلق حياة تدور في حلقات مفرغة عبثية حتى النهاية. بطل يخوض حياة صاخبة ساحرة شبيهة بالملاحم أو الأساطير، فقط لينتهي إلى عيش حياة شديدة العادية. شخص عاش حياة تماثل حياة فرد بارز من عصابات أل كابوني أو الساحر هوديني، وتنتهي حياته كما تنتهي حياة موظف في شركة تأمينات. ولم أستطع أن اعرف هل كان البطل "والت" راضيا بتلك النهاية أم لا؟ وربما هذا هو ما أزعجني.
وصف أوستر ككل سواء للمكان والزمن وكل ما يحيط الأبطال من كيانٍ مادي هو مدهش كما سبق وقلت. وأكثر ما سحرني هو وصفه لمشاهد محاولات طيران "والت" والتي تماثل تماما إحساسي في احلام النوم الكثيرة-وأعرف انها أحلام الكثيرين غيري- بالطيران. الإحساس بالخفة والنشوة والحرية.
أظن أن هذا الحلم يراود البشر جميعهم في النوم. أن يرتفعوا عن مكان وقوفهم، أن تجذبهم جاذبية السماء بدلا من جاذبية الأرض، أن يكونوا أعلى ممن حولهم وأقدر على الهروب مما يهددهم بينما ينظرون إلى الخطر من الأعلى ساخرين منه منتشين بنجاتهم. إحساس لسعادته خدر لا نحسه إلا في عالم الغفو.
ولهذا تألم "والت" أشد ألم عندما فقد قدرته على الطيران لدرجة تفكيره في التضحية بجزء من جسده كثمن لعودة تلك القدرة الخارقة.
لا أعرف إذا كنت محقة في ظني بأن أوستر كان هدفه "الإبهار" في تلك القصة أكثر مما كان يهدف إلى إيصال معنى أو مغزى واحد أم لا. لكني لن أنكر استمتاعي الشديد بها ولن أبخس أوستر حقه في الإشادة بقدرته المذهلة على الابهار ككاتب.
November 20, 2020
Ew. A bombastic failure of the Book of Illusions-Brooklyn Follies type. (Oh, these Auster books--you know what I mean.) A very over-hyped writer does his own take on the fantastic American Man/myth embodiment--cough cough silence cough. (Major pity I read the phenomenal "Billy Bathgate", another tidy rags to dirty riches story, earlier this year. This is like the Hallmark Movie Network version of that grade-A literarily-earned machofable.) Timbuktu, Invisible, New York Trilogy, these are the only Acceptable Austers. Oracle Night. I mean it. Otherwise, middleschoolgrade fodder to properly ignore.
April 16, 2024
Murakami vibes. Is Paul Auster one of those American writers who fail to make an impression on the European side, or did I just not pick up the right book?
June 6, 2018
"Κατα βαθος δεν πιστευω οτι απαιτειται καποιο ιδιαιτερο ταλεντο για ν'ανυψωθει κανεις απο το εδαφος και να αιωρηθει στον αερα.το εχουμε ολοι μεσα μας-καθε αντρας, γυναικα και παιδι-και με αρκετη σκληρη δουλεια και συγκεντρωση καθε ανθρωπινο πλασμα ειναι ικανο να επαναλαβει τους αθλους που εκανα ως Γουολτ το Παιδι Θαυμα.πρεπει να μαθεις πως να παυεις να εισαι ο εαυτος σου.εκει αρχιζουν ολα και καθετι αλλο, ερχεται μετα.....
Και τοτε σιγα σιγα ξεκολας απο το εδαφος."
Αυτη εδω λοιπον ειναι η πανεμορφη ιστορια που εγραψε ο αγαπημενος μου Paul Auster (που οπως φαινεται οι 1200 και κατι ψιλα σελιδες του 4 3 2 1 δεν ηταν αρκετες για να μη μου λειψει για πολυ καιρο)για τον Γουολτ, ενα ορφανο αγορι που αρκετα νωρις στη ζωη του και μεσα στη μεχρι τοτε μεγαλη ατυχια του, σταθηκε αρκετα τυχερος να γνωρισει τον μεντορα του.τον ανθρωπο αυτον που ολοι μας ευχομαστε να γνωρισουμε καποια στιγμη στη ζωη μας και να μπορεσουμε να πουμε γιαυτον οτι μας αλλαξε τελειως τη ζωη.ο μεντορας του Γουολτ του κανει το μεγαλυτερο δωρο του κοσμου: τον μαθαινει να πεταει.και τοτε ο Γουολτ γνωριζει την απολυτη ευτυχια , γνωριζοντας οτι ναι, οι ανθρωποι μπορουν οντως να ξεκολλησουν τα ποδια τους απο το εδαφος, αλλα και την απολυτη απογοητευση που συνοδευει αυτη τη γνωση: οτι μονο οσο μενεις εκει ψηλα, αυτα τα λιγα λεπτα, μπορεις να εισαι ευτυχισμενος και οτι οταν επιστρεφεις ξανα στη γη, το πληρωνεις με πονο.
Ενα υπεροχο παραμυθι για μεγαλους , με πανεμορφους συμβολισμους .για αλλη μια φορα ο Auster με εκπλησσει ευχαριστα.υστερα απο την αναγνωση τοσων βιβλιων του, ακομη δε μπορω να τον καταταξω σε συγγραφεα ενος συγκεκριμενου ειδους .καθε βιβλιο του ειναι και μια διαφορετικη εκπληξη , με το συγκεκριμενο να μπαινει ευκολα στα καλυτερα του που εχω διαβασει.
Και τοτε σιγα σιγα ξεκολας απο το εδαφος."
Αυτη εδω λοιπον ειναι η πανεμορφη ιστορια που εγραψε ο αγαπημενος μου Paul Auster (που οπως φαινεται οι 1200 και κατι ψιλα σελιδες του 4 3 2 1 δεν ηταν αρκετες για να μη μου λειψει για πολυ καιρο)για τον Γουολτ, ενα ορφανο αγορι που αρκετα νωρις στη ζωη του και μεσα στη μεχρι τοτε μεγαλη ατυχια του, σταθηκε αρκετα τυχερος να γνωρισει τον μεντορα του.τον ανθρωπο αυτον που ολοι μας ευχομαστε να γνωρισουμε καποια στιγμη στη ζωη μας και να μπορεσουμε να πουμε γιαυτον οτι μας αλλαξε τελειως τη ζωη.ο μεντορας του Γουολτ του κανει το μεγαλυτερο δωρο του κοσμου: τον μαθαινει να πεταει.και τοτε ο Γουολτ γνωριζει την απολυτη ευτυχια , γνωριζοντας οτι ναι, οι ανθρωποι μπορουν οντως να ξεκολλησουν τα ποδια τους απο το εδαφος, αλλα και την απολυτη απογοητευση που συνοδευει αυτη τη γνωση: οτι μονο οσο μενεις εκει ψηλα, αυτα τα λιγα λεπτα, μπορεις να εισαι ευτυχισμενος και οτι οταν επιστρεφεις ξανα στη γη, το πληρωνεις με πονο.
Ενα υπεροχο παραμυθι για μεγαλους , με πανεμορφους συμβολισμους .για αλλη μια φορα ο Auster με εκπλησσει ευχαριστα.υστερα απο την αναγνωση τοσων βιβλιων του, ακομη δε μπορω να τον καταταξω σε συγγραφεα ενος συγκεκριμενου ειδους .καθε βιβλιο του ειναι και μια διαφορετικη εκπληξη , με το συγκεκριμενο να μπαινει ευκολα στα καλυτερα του που εχω διαβασει.
July 15, 2021
CRITIQUE:
Rogues' Gallery
I don't quite know how to categorise this novel, but I definitely enjoyed every word of it.
I came to it with an expectation that it would be an exercise in post-modernism. This is only true to the extent that it mimics a traditional or conventional style of novel. At one level, it's an historical novel. At another, it's a fictional memoir. It's also somewhat picaresque. But then...
My first reaction was to try to work out what authors or works it reminded me of. The ones that eventually came to mind were Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, John Barth, Kurt Vonnegut, Michael Moorcock, "The Adventures of Augie March" and "Ragtime".
The main characters (and there are many of them) constitute a rogues’ gallery, and could each have been the subject of their own novel. Their descriptions are enticing, if not outright hilarious.
A Street Kid with His Eye on the Main Chance
The narrator is Walter (Walt) Clairborne Rawley. He was born in 1915. At the age of nine, after having been orphaned and living unhappily with his aunt and Uncle Slim in Saint Louis, he is lured away by Master Yehudi, who promises to teach him how to fly within three years.
The master is an Hungarian Jew, whose father and grandfather were both rabbis. Walt initially thinks of him as the King of the Gypsies and the Prince of Blackness, and tries to escape his clutches.
Early on, the master calls Walt a "pus-brained ragamuffin from honky-tonk row". Walt thinks of himself at age nine as "a city boy who had grown up with jazz in his blood, [and] a street kid with his eye on the main chance...a boogie-toed prankster, a midget scatman with a quick tongue and a hundred angles...a fiery little dunce...a know-it-all...a selfish ingrate...a tough little bugger...a no-good bum...a born outlaw."
Walt's life changes so much, it's never clear what his true identity is. Equally, he never achieves any form of authenticity, beyond the self that emerges from his memoir, which in truth is a (magical) work of the imagination, of Paul Auster, at least.
The master receives financial support for his project from his "high class" paramour, a "tough broad" and a "skinny wench", the "widow lady" Marion Witherspoon, "a beautiful woman with red hair." For fans of Michael Moorcock, she reminded me a lot of an attractive Mrs Cornelius.
A Placid Wave of Nothingness
Walt describes his first experience of levitation like this: "I was weightless inside my own body, floating on a placid wave of nothingness, utterly detached and indifferent to the world around me."
He didn't fly like Superman, he hovered, "motionless and aloft." He works on the art of loft and locomotion, until the master deems him ready for the world of show business. Locomotion was "a dreamlike walking through air that was essentially no different from walking on the ground." By the age of 12, he's able to walk on water. Soon, he can rise vertically, just as the reader has learned to suspend disbelief. They call him "Walt the Wonder Boy", though he is no mere trickster or charlatan ("no wires, no mirrors, no trapdoor...There’s no gimmick."), and soon he's on the vaudeville circuit, accumulating a fortune between the three of them.
The public attention means that Walt must endure an encounter with the Ku Klux Klan, a kidnapping and a near fatal attempt to overturn their car on the highway. "So be it."
But Walt's ultimate downfall is puberty and his growing interest in the pleasure of his pecker. He walks away from his act, intending to work in Hollywood, but his plan doesn’t eventuate. Instead, he ends up starting a glamorous nightclub in Chicago (from which comes the title of the novel, "Mr. Vertigo's") in cahoots with the Mafia. Here, he learns that "when a man comes to the end of the line, the only thing he really wants is death." The war intervenes and he spends four years in the army, after he loses his financial interest in the nightclub. On his return from active service, he settles into domesticity, although he never has any children. His pursuit of the American Dream has come to a conclusion. "So it goes."
A Flight of Fancy
Walt eventually sits down to write his book. His advice to readers is, "With enough hard work and concentration, every human being is capable of duplicating the feats I accomplished as Walt the Wonder Boy. You must learn to stop being yourself...You must let yourself evaporate...and then shut your eyes. That's how it's done...Like so."
SOUNDTRACK:
Rogues' Gallery
I don't quite know how to categorise this novel, but I definitely enjoyed every word of it.
I came to it with an expectation that it would be an exercise in post-modernism. This is only true to the extent that it mimics a traditional or conventional style of novel. At one level, it's an historical novel. At another, it's a fictional memoir. It's also somewhat picaresque. But then...
My first reaction was to try to work out what authors or works it reminded me of. The ones that eventually came to mind were Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, John Barth, Kurt Vonnegut, Michael Moorcock, "The Adventures of Augie March" and "Ragtime".
The main characters (and there are many of them) constitute a rogues’ gallery, and could each have been the subject of their own novel. Their descriptions are enticing, if not outright hilarious.
A Street Kid with His Eye on the Main Chance
The narrator is Walter (Walt) Clairborne Rawley. He was born in 1915. At the age of nine, after having been orphaned and living unhappily with his aunt and Uncle Slim in Saint Louis, he is lured away by Master Yehudi, who promises to teach him how to fly within three years.
The master is an Hungarian Jew, whose father and grandfather were both rabbis. Walt initially thinks of him as the King of the Gypsies and the Prince of Blackness, and tries to escape his clutches.
Early on, the master calls Walt a "pus-brained ragamuffin from honky-tonk row". Walt thinks of himself at age nine as "a city boy who had grown up with jazz in his blood, [and] a street kid with his eye on the main chance...a boogie-toed prankster, a midget scatman with a quick tongue and a hundred angles...a fiery little dunce...a know-it-all...a selfish ingrate...a tough little bugger...a no-good bum...a born outlaw."
Walt's life changes so much, it's never clear what his true identity is. Equally, he never achieves any form of authenticity, beyond the self that emerges from his memoir, which in truth is a (magical) work of the imagination, of Paul Auster, at least.
The master receives financial support for his project from his "high class" paramour, a "tough broad" and a "skinny wench", the "widow lady" Marion Witherspoon, "a beautiful woman with red hair." For fans of Michael Moorcock, she reminded me a lot of an attractive Mrs Cornelius.
A Placid Wave of Nothingness
Walt describes his first experience of levitation like this: "I was weightless inside my own body, floating on a placid wave of nothingness, utterly detached and indifferent to the world around me."
He didn't fly like Superman, he hovered, "motionless and aloft." He works on the art of loft and locomotion, until the master deems him ready for the world of show business. Locomotion was "a dreamlike walking through air that was essentially no different from walking on the ground." By the age of 12, he's able to walk on water. Soon, he can rise vertically, just as the reader has learned to suspend disbelief. They call him "Walt the Wonder Boy", though he is no mere trickster or charlatan ("no wires, no mirrors, no trapdoor...There’s no gimmick."), and soon he's on the vaudeville circuit, accumulating a fortune between the three of them.
The public attention means that Walt must endure an encounter with the Ku Klux Klan, a kidnapping and a near fatal attempt to overturn their car on the highway. "So be it."
But Walt's ultimate downfall is puberty and his growing interest in the pleasure of his pecker. He walks away from his act, intending to work in Hollywood, but his plan doesn’t eventuate. Instead, he ends up starting a glamorous nightclub in Chicago (from which comes the title of the novel, "Mr. Vertigo's") in cahoots with the Mafia. Here, he learns that "when a man comes to the end of the line, the only thing he really wants is death." The war intervenes and he spends four years in the army, after he loses his financial interest in the nightclub. On his return from active service, he settles into domesticity, although he never has any children. His pursuit of the American Dream has come to a conclusion. "So it goes."
A Flight of Fancy
Walt eventually sits down to write his book. His advice to readers is, "With enough hard work and concentration, every human being is capable of duplicating the feats I accomplished as Walt the Wonder Boy. You must learn to stop being yourself...You must let yourself evaporate...and then shut your eyes. That's how it's done...Like so."
SOUNDTRACK:
November 11, 2023
That's an initiatory novel, a philosophical tale mixing wonder, realism, and history.
Many adventures in this novel mix different genres, as often with Paul Auster.
Master Yehudi, who promised to teach Walt to fly even if it would not be like birds, took him. After a problematic apprenticeship, he simultaneously succeeded as Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic. Soon, terrible headaches and dizziness prevent Walt from continuing on this path, and his life will take other paths. After this first part, in a marvelous or magical realism style (because we also come across the odious K.K.K), childhood and youth end, and the novel becomes more realistic. This novel evokes America from the 1920s to 1992 (the date on which the old hero writes his memoirs), that of jazz, gangsters, cinema, the America of wide open spaces, remote towns, and big cities. It is also a philosophical tale in which man pushes his limits beyond what appeared possible.
Excellent vintage Paul Auster.
Many adventures in this novel mix different genres, as often with Paul Auster.
Master Yehudi, who promised to teach Walt to fly even if it would not be like birds, took him. After a problematic apprenticeship, he simultaneously succeeded as Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic. Soon, terrible headaches and dizziness prevent Walt from continuing on this path, and his life will take other paths. After this first part, in a marvelous or magical realism style (because we also come across the odious K.K.K), childhood and youth end, and the novel becomes more realistic. This novel evokes America from the 1920s to 1992 (the date on which the old hero writes his memoirs), that of jazz, gangsters, cinema, the America of wide open spaces, remote towns, and big cities. It is also a philosophical tale in which man pushes his limits beyond what appeared possible.
Excellent vintage Paul Auster.
August 15, 2018
Ho creduto ad una bellissima favola , poteva rappresentare Il Peter Pan prima di diventare Famoso, invece è Walt il Bambino Prodigio. È un levitatore di quelli veri, non certo un ciarlatano.
Non crediate però che imparare a volare per lui sia stata una passeggiata; niente di più falso.
Dietro un tale prodigio tre anni di fatica, sudore, panico e talmente tanto terrore da far somigliare l'addestramento al volo a un indimenticabile soggiorno negli inferi .
Il tutto sotto la guida di Yehudi, un ebreo ungherese, sarcastico, cortese, appassionato di Spinoza, maestro di volo e di vita per il piccolo Walt.
Leggendo questo libro, crederete come me che Walt Rawley sia realmente esistito, che il bambino "più piccolo, più sozzo, abbia davvero raggiunto la fama levitando a qualche palmo e più da terra, che abbia poi sperimentato di nuovo la vita " normale" e si sia rialzato sulle proprie gambe.
Tutto è tremendamente reale: è reale la terra con i suoi pericoli e le sue ombre, ed è reale l'aria minata di insidie e gravità.
Ogni luce ha un'ombra, e a questa verità è impossibile sfuggire.
Lo stesso Auster ci dice che volare non è poi così difficile e si può cadere stando a mezz'aria, così come si può ruzzolare stando con i piedi per terra.
In qualunque modo e in qualunque momento ci si ritrovi a terra, bisogna conservare la propria Dignità sempre, anche quando è il far della notte a sorprendere. È così che Auster non mi ha deluso la sua storia scorre come un dialogo diretto tra il lettore e il protagonista. Da leggere
Non crediate però che imparare a volare per lui sia stata una passeggiata; niente di più falso.
Dietro un tale prodigio tre anni di fatica, sudore, panico e talmente tanto terrore da far somigliare l'addestramento al volo a un indimenticabile soggiorno negli inferi .
Il tutto sotto la guida di Yehudi, un ebreo ungherese, sarcastico, cortese, appassionato di Spinoza, maestro di volo e di vita per il piccolo Walt.
Leggendo questo libro, crederete come me che Walt Rawley sia realmente esistito, che il bambino "più piccolo, più sozzo, abbia davvero raggiunto la fama levitando a qualche palmo e più da terra, che abbia poi sperimentato di nuovo la vita " normale" e si sia rialzato sulle proprie gambe.
Tutto è tremendamente reale: è reale la terra con i suoi pericoli e le sue ombre, ed è reale l'aria minata di insidie e gravità.
Ogni luce ha un'ombra, e a questa verità è impossibile sfuggire.
Lo stesso Auster ci dice che volare non è poi così difficile e si può cadere stando a mezz'aria, così come si può ruzzolare stando con i piedi per terra.
In qualunque modo e in qualunque momento ci si ritrovi a terra, bisogna conservare la propria Dignità sempre, anche quando è il far della notte a sorprendere. È così che Auster non mi ha deluso la sua storia scorre come un dialogo diretto tra il lettore e il protagonista. Da leggere
September 3, 2017
Έρχεται ο χλέμπουρας στο σπίτι βλέπει τον Auster πάνω στο τραπέζι, μου ρίχνει μια από κείνες τις ματιές ‘ποταπό σκουλήκι της γης’ και μου λέει «καλά, Auster διαβάζεις; Ο τύπος δεν έχει τίποτα να πει, τα είπε μια, τα είπε δυο, παράτησε γυναίκα και παιδιά τάχα για ν’ανακαλύψει τον εαυτό του και μας τα ‘κανε τούμπανα, γράφοντας τα ίδια και τα ίδια…»
Τι να που κι εγώ του χλέμπουρα, που μπορεί και δίκιο να ‘χει, όμως εγώ τώρα ανακαλύπτω την Αμερική, τον Auster ήθελα να πω, κι είναι το πρώτο του βιβλίο που διαβάζω… οπότε πράγματι, αν διαβάσω αλλά τρία δικά του μπορεί να πεθάνω κι από overdose αλλά προς το παρόν, όπως και να το δεις ήταν μια ανακάλυψη για μένα…
Ο Γουόλτ είναι ένα αδέσποτο ορφανό (όπως λέει και το οπισθόφυλλο του βιβλίου σαν να είναι κανένα αδέσποτο σκυλί) μέχρι που το μαζεύει από το δρόμο ο δάσκαλος Γεχουντί που μέσα από μια διδασκαλία – πρακτική – μύηση τριαντατριών σταδίων τον μετατρέπει στο ‘παιδί θαύμα’, τον Mr Vertigo, ελληνιστί τον κύριο Ίλιγγο. Ο πιτσιρικάς πετάει κι όταν λέμε πετάει, πετάει κυριολεκτικώς σαν το ‘παιδί αεροπλάνο’, ‘παιδί πουλί’ ‘παιδί πετάμενο’ κι έτσι αρχίζει η γύρα στην Αμερική για να μαζέψουν δάσκαλος και μαθητής φράγκα, πολλά φράγκα. Κι ενώ όλα βαίνουν καλώς, κάποια στιγμή, εκεί στην εφηβεία που αφήνεις την παιδική ηλικία για να γίνεις ενήλικας, κάθε πτήση ισοδυναμεί με απίστευτους πονοκεφάλους και η λύση είναι μία. Ή παρατάς το πέταγμα δια παντός ή κόβεις τ’απαυτά σου (δεν μου επιτρέπει η καλή μου ανατροφή να το πω) κι έτσι μπορεί και να συνεχίσεις να πετάς μια ζωή.
Τι κάνεις τώρα ; Επιλέγεις χρήμα και δόξα με ουρά ή τ’απαυτά σου για να πηδάς και καμιά γκόμενα; Ο Γουόλτ δεν το σκέφτεται και πολύ, προτιμά την ενηλικίωση, δηλαδή τα ‘απαυτά’ του κι έτσι επιστρέφει σε μια ας το πούμε νορμάλ ζωή.
Η ιστορία, σαν ιστορία, απ’όπου κι αν την πιάσεις, δεν είχε καμιά αμάν πλοκή, ούτε κάνα σασπένς, ούτε καν κανένα γαμάτο ψυχογράφημα. Η γλώσσα του Auster όμως μου πήγαινε πολύ, είχε ρυθμό και μουσικότητα (προφανώς έκανε καλή δουλειά κι η μεταφράστρια) και με ηρεμούσε πολύ η ανάγνωση του βιβλίου.
Πίσω από τις σειρές, υπάρχουν πράγματα να δεις, όπως αυτό το μόνιμο θέμα που έχουν οι Αμερικάνοι με τους λευκούς και τους μαύρους, το κυνήγι του χρήματος, της δόξας, η χειραφέτηση των γυναικών, και λίγο παρασκήνιο…
Κι υπάρχει ένα κομμάτι, εκεί με τον θρύλο του μπέιζμπολ, που δεν υπάρχει πιο βαρετό πράγμα να σου μιλάει κανείς για αυτό το άθλημα που τα τόσα χρόνια της ζωής μου, το μόνο που έχω καταλάβει είναι πως κρατάνε ένα μπαστούνι και μια μπάλα που έτσι και σου ΄ρθει στο κεφάλι πας κατευθείαν στον αγύριστο, και λέω ‘εντάξει ρε φίλε, το ‘χεσες’.
Όμως φτάνει στο τέλος, κι είναι ένα τέλος, ας το πούμε φιλοσοφικόν, από εκείνα που μ’αρέσουν, που μου θύμισε και ολίγον το τέλος του «Σιντάρτα» του Έσσε, πως για να βρεις τον εαυτό σου, υπάρχουν χιλιάδες τρόποι ή γίνε κι εσύ δάσκαλος στην επόμενη γενιά χρησιμοποιώντας τις νέες μεθόδους. Όσο και να πεις, το να χωθώ κάτω από το χώμα μ΄ένα καλαμάκι για να μάθω να πετάω, ακόμα και για μένα που σέρνομαι όλη μέρα στη γη, το βλέπω ολίγον δύσκολο.
Ανάγνωσμα γεμάτο συμβολισμούς, ανάγνωσμα ενηλικίωσης, ανάγνωσμα με γλώσσα που σε ταξιδεύει…
Μου άρεσε η πρώτη επαφή με τον Auster… Θα τον ξαναδοκιμάσω…
Βαθμολογία: 9/10
Readathon 2017: Ένα βιβλίο που διαλέξατε παρά το άσχημο εξώφυλλό του [35/80]
Ομολογώ πως βρήκα το εξώφυλλο άθλιο – με ενοχλεί αφάνταστα πως το όνομα του συγγραφέα πιάνει το μισό εξώφυλλο σ’ένα βιβλίο που μιλάει για την πτώση μετά από τη δόξα – το χρώμα καταθλιπτικό μέχρι αηδίας – από τα χειρότερα εξώφυλλα ever…
http://skorofido.blogspot.gr/2017/09/...
Τι να που κι εγώ του χλέμπουρα, που μπορεί και δίκιο να ‘χει, όμως εγώ τώρα ανακαλύπτω την Αμερική, τον Auster ήθελα να πω, κι είναι το πρώτο του βιβλίο που διαβάζω… οπότε πράγματι, αν διαβάσω αλλά τρία δικά του μπορεί να πεθάνω κι από overdose αλλά προς το παρόν, όπως και να το δεις ήταν μια ανακάλυψη για μένα…
Ο Γουόλτ είναι ένα αδέσποτο ορφανό (όπως λέει και το οπισθόφυλλο του βιβλίου σαν να είναι κανένα αδέσποτο σκυλί) μέχρι που το μαζεύει από το δρόμο ο δάσκαλος Γεχουντί που μέσα από μια διδασκαλία – πρακτική – μύηση τριαντατριών σταδίων τον μετατρέπει στο ‘παιδί θαύμα’, τον Mr Vertigo, ελληνιστί τον κύριο Ίλιγγο. Ο πιτσιρικάς πετάει κι όταν λέμε πετάει, πετάει κυριολεκτικώς σαν το ‘παιδί αεροπλάνο’, ‘παιδί πουλί’ ‘παιδί πετάμενο’ κι έτσι αρχίζει η γύρα στην Αμερική για να μαζέψουν δάσκαλος και μαθητής φράγκα, πολλά φράγκα. Κι ενώ όλα βαίνουν καλώς, κάποια στιγμή, εκεί στην εφηβεία που αφήνεις την παιδική ηλικία για να γίνεις ενήλικας, κάθε πτήση ισοδυναμεί με απίστευτους πονοκεφάλους και η λύση είναι μία. Ή παρατάς το πέταγμα δια παντός ή κόβεις τ’απαυτά σου (δεν μου επιτρέπει η καλή μου ανατροφή να το πω) κι έτσι μπορεί και να συνεχίσεις να πετάς μια ζωή.
Τι κάνεις τώρα ; Επιλέγεις χρήμα και δόξα με ουρά ή τ’απαυτά σου για να πηδάς και καμιά γκόμενα; Ο Γουόλτ δεν το σκέφτεται και πολύ, προτιμά την ενηλικίωση, δηλαδή τα ‘απαυτά’ του κι έτσι επιστρέφει σε μια ας το πούμε νορμάλ ζωή.
Η ιστορία, σαν ιστορία, απ’όπου κι αν την πιάσεις, δεν είχε καμιά αμάν πλοκή, ούτε κάνα σασπένς, ούτε καν κανένα γαμάτο ψυχογράφημα. Η γλώσσα του Auster όμως μου πήγαινε πολύ, είχε ρυθμό και μουσικότητα (προφανώς έκανε καλή δουλειά κι η μεταφράστρια) και με ηρεμούσε πολύ η ανάγνωση του βιβλίου.
Πίσω από τις σειρές, υπάρχουν πράγματα να δεις, όπως αυτό το μόνιμο θέμα που έχουν οι Αμερικάνοι με τους λευκούς και τους μαύρους, το κυνήγι του χρήματος, της δόξας, η χειραφέτηση των γυναικών, και λίγο παρασκήνιο…
Κι υπάρχει ένα κομμάτι, εκεί με τον θρύλο του μπέιζμπολ, που δεν υπάρχει πιο βαρετό πράγμα να σου μιλάει κανείς για αυτό το άθλημα που τα τόσα χρόνια της ζωής μου, το μόνο που έχω καταλάβει είναι πως κρατάνε ένα μπαστούνι και μια μπάλα που έτσι και σου ΄ρθει στο κεφάλι πας κατευθείαν στον αγύριστο, και λέω ‘εντάξει ρε φίλε, το ‘χεσες’.
Όμως φτάνει στο τέλος, κι είναι ένα τέλος, ας το πούμε φιλοσοφικόν, από εκείνα που μ’αρέσουν, που μου θύμισε και ολίγον το τέλος του «Σιντάρτα» του Έσσε, πως για να βρεις τον εαυτό σου, υπάρχουν χιλιάδες τρόποι ή γίνε κι εσύ δάσκαλος στην επόμενη γενιά χρησιμοποιώντας τις νέες μεθόδους. Όσο και να πεις, το να χωθώ κάτω από το χώμα μ΄ένα καλαμάκι για να μάθω να πετάω, ακόμα και για μένα που σέρνομαι όλη μέρα στη γη, το βλέπω ολίγον δύσκολο.
Ανάγνωσμα γεμάτο συμβολισμούς, ανάγνωσμα ενηλικίωσης, ανάγνωσμα με γλώσσα που σε ταξιδεύει…
Μου άρεσε η πρώτη επαφή με τον Auster… Θα τον ξαναδοκιμάσω…
Βαθμολογία: 9/10
Readathon 2017: Ένα βιβλίο που διαλέξατε παρά το άσχημο εξώφυλλό του [35/80]
Ομολογώ πως βρήκα το εξώφυλλο άθλιο – με ενοχλεί αφάνταστα πως το όνομα του συγγραφέα πιάνει το μισό εξώφυλλο σ’ένα βιβλίο που μιλάει για την πτώση μετά από τη δόξα – το χρώμα καταθλιπτικό μέχρι αηδίας – από τα χειρότερα εξώφυλλα ever…
http://skorofido.blogspot.gr/2017/09/...
September 15, 2017
ما هذا الجمال ^^
رواية خاصة جدا، أسرتني بصفة شخصية؛ لأنها تتحدث عن حلم طفولتي المستمر إلى الآن.. عن الطيران والتحليق فوق الرؤوس؛ وانا لا اعني أحلام اليقظة وأفكار الصبى.. أعني أحلام حقيقية أثناء النوم :)
أما عن هبوط بول أوستر بهذه الفكرة من عالم الأحلام ودمجها بالواقع فكان مذهلا؛ إلتزم بالرمزية على طول الرواية؛ لم يقع في فخ المباشرة الذي يقع فيه الكتاب في مواطن كثيرة في روايات مشابهة.
نهايًة.. شكر خاص للمترجم، أجبرني أن أبحث عن إسمه، وأعماله الأخرى؛ ترجمة مثالية.
رواية خاصة جدا، أسرتني بصفة شخصية؛ لأنها تتحدث عن حلم طفولتي المستمر إلى الآن.. عن الطيران والتحليق فوق الرؤوس؛ وانا لا اعني أحلام اليقظة وأفكار الصبى.. أعني أحلام حقيقية أثناء النوم :)
أما عن هبوط بول أوستر بهذه الفكرة من عالم الأحلام ودمجها بالواقع فكان مذهلا؛ إلتزم بالرمزية على طول الرواية؛ لم يقع في فخ المباشرة الذي يقع فيه الكتاب في مواطن كثيرة في روايات مشابهة.
نهايًة.. شكر خاص للمترجم، أجبرني أن أبحث عن إسمه، وأعماله الأخرى؛ ترجمة مثالية.
January 28, 2020
[3.8] I am puzzled and bemused. This is a messy novel that is at times bizarre, conventional, thrilling, pedestrian. There is a boy named Walt, he is taken under the wing of Master Yehudi and learns to fly with no contraptions; he grows up and has several other adventures including a weird thing with a baseball player; then he lives a conventional life and then...well you have to read it. It helps to love the way Auster thinks and writes. And I do.
May 17, 2018
“Basta smettere di essere se stessi. È da lì che si comincia; tutto il resto viene di conseguenza. Bisogna lasciarsi svaporare”
★★★★½
E' noto che l’incipit di un romanzo debba contenerne i tratti salienti:
tutte quelle informazioni che ci permettono di tracciare un percorso e ci consentano di addentrarci nei meandri della storia.
Come un biglietto da vista, insomma, l’incipit deve contenere informazioni generali ma precise.
Ecco dunque come si presenta la storia di “Mr Vertigo”:
” Avevo dodici anni la prima volta che camminai sulle acque. A insegnarmi il trucco fu l’uomo vestito di nero e non sarebbe da me far finta di aver imparato nel giro di una notte. Maestro Yehudi, che mi aveva trovato quando di anni ne avevo solo nove, ero orfano e vagavo per le strade di Saint Louis mendicando spiccioli, mi aveva addestrato per tre anni di seguito prima di lasciarmi esibire i miei numeri in pubblico. Correva il 1927, l’anno di Baby Ruth e di Charles Lindbergh, proprio l’anno in cui la notte incominciò a calare sul mondo una volta per tutte. Tenni duro fino a pochi giorni prima del crollo d’ottobre, e quel che facevo era più strabiliante di qualunque fantastica impresa dei due galantuomini appena nominati. Vale a dire, ciò che nessun americano aveva fatto prima e ciò che da allora più nessuno ha fatto.
Maestro Yehudi scelse me perché ero il più piccolo, il più sozzo, l’ultimo dei miserabili. - Sei come una bestia, - disse, - uno scampolo di umana nullità -.”
Fate come me e non leggete la sinossi riportata in quarta di copertina perché vi assicuro che dice troppo e vi rovina la lettura.
Fatevi, invece, trasportare da questa storia che arriva a toccare il cielo come la più profonda terra.
Questa è la vita del piccolo Walt che dai marciapiedi di Saint Louis si eleva ad altezze insperate e si fa uomo attraverso un sali e scendi di avvenimenti.
Una favola per i suoi elementi fantastici dove, non a caso, il migliore amico di Walt si chiama Esopo.
Ma Auster sembra quasi voler dire che se la Letteratura può condurci in altre dimensioni non deve comunque dimenticare di essere strumento di riflessione sul reale.
Volare e ritornare coi piedi per terra.
Essere ambiziosi, godere di una propria supposta superiorità ma rimanendo ancorati a se stessi alla propria umanità, alla propria umiltà.
Un romanzo di formazione e trasformazione.
Perché se la materia può assumere diversi stati anche un’esistenza può essere multiforme.
” - Ti sforzi troppo, - mi disse Esopo un pomeriggio. - Sei tanto logorato dal tuo stesso senso di giustizia, che non vedi più tutto quello che hai intorno. E se non vedi le cose che hai sotto il naso, non potrai mai guardare te stesso e scoprire chi sei.
- Ma io lo so chi sono, - dissi io. - Voglio vedere chi è capace di portami via anche questo.”
★★★★½
E' noto che l’incipit di un romanzo debba contenerne i tratti salienti:
tutte quelle informazioni che ci permettono di tracciare un percorso e ci consentano di addentrarci nei meandri della storia.
Come un biglietto da vista, insomma, l’incipit deve contenere informazioni generali ma precise.
Ecco dunque come si presenta la storia di “Mr Vertigo”:
” Avevo dodici anni la prima volta che camminai sulle acque. A insegnarmi il trucco fu l’uomo vestito di nero e non sarebbe da me far finta di aver imparato nel giro di una notte. Maestro Yehudi, che mi aveva trovato quando di anni ne avevo solo nove, ero orfano e vagavo per le strade di Saint Louis mendicando spiccioli, mi aveva addestrato per tre anni di seguito prima di lasciarmi esibire i miei numeri in pubblico. Correva il 1927, l’anno di Baby Ruth e di Charles Lindbergh, proprio l’anno in cui la notte incominciò a calare sul mondo una volta per tutte. Tenni duro fino a pochi giorni prima del crollo d’ottobre, e quel che facevo era più strabiliante di qualunque fantastica impresa dei due galantuomini appena nominati. Vale a dire, ciò che nessun americano aveva fatto prima e ciò che da allora più nessuno ha fatto.
Maestro Yehudi scelse me perché ero il più piccolo, il più sozzo, l’ultimo dei miserabili. - Sei come una bestia, - disse, - uno scampolo di umana nullità -.”
Fate come me e non leggete la sinossi riportata in quarta di copertina perché vi assicuro che dice troppo e vi rovina la lettura.
Fatevi, invece, trasportare da questa storia che arriva a toccare il cielo come la più profonda terra.
Questa è la vita del piccolo Walt che dai marciapiedi di Saint Louis si eleva ad altezze insperate e si fa uomo attraverso un sali e scendi di avvenimenti.
Una favola per i suoi elementi fantastici dove, non a caso, il migliore amico di Walt si chiama Esopo.
Ma Auster sembra quasi voler dire che se la Letteratura può condurci in altre dimensioni non deve comunque dimenticare di essere strumento di riflessione sul reale.
Volare e ritornare coi piedi per terra.
Essere ambiziosi, godere di una propria supposta superiorità ma rimanendo ancorati a se stessi alla propria umanità, alla propria umiltà.
Un romanzo di formazione e trasformazione.
Perché se la materia può assumere diversi stati anche un’esistenza può essere multiforme.
” - Ti sforzi troppo, - mi disse Esopo un pomeriggio. - Sei tanto logorato dal tuo stesso senso di giustizia, che non vedi più tutto quello che hai intorno. E se non vedi le cose che hai sotto il naso, non potrai mai guardare te stesso e scoprire chi sei.
- Ma io lo so chi sono, - dissi io. - Voglio vedere chi è capace di portami via anche questo.”
December 19, 2018
Uma das coisas que gosto nos livros de Paul Auster é a habilidade com que mistura o quotidiano mais comezinho com acontecimentos irreais, de uma forma tão natural que pareceria impossível poder funcionar, não se tratando de um livro de fantasia ou ficção científica. E foi isso mesmo que ele fez mais uma vez neste Mr. Vertigo, que li com imenso prazer do princípio ao fim.
Obrigada Carlos!
Obrigada Carlos!
August 8, 2023
مجرد بجعة مدهشة غطست في طي النسيان
استمتع دائما بصحبة بول اوستر ، فهو احد افضل القصاصين في رايي ، لكنه امريكي جدا مقيد بالارض ، اتمنى لو يحلق ولو مرة مثل والت العجيب فهو يستحق
استمتع دائما بصحبة بول اوستر ، فهو احد افضل القصاصين في رايي ، لكنه امريكي جدا مقيد بالارض ، اتمنى لو يحلق ولو مرة مثل والت العجيب فهو يستحق
May 23, 2013
'I was twelve years old the first time I walked on water. The man in the black clothes taught me how to do it, and I'm not going to pretend I learned that trick overnight.
Mr. Vertigo is the story of Walter Rawley, who recounts how at the age of nine he made a pact with the man who promised to teach him how to fly. Master Yehudi spotted young Walt on the streets of Saint Louis, sweeping the foul-mouthed and lonely kid off the ground with his promise. Yehudi swears that if he fails to teach Walt how to fly by his thirteenth birthday he can hop off his head with an axe. After weighing his options young Walt decides to take the risk and go away with Yehudi, rather than live a gloomy life of an orphan on the streets Saint Louis. The year was 1927, just two years short of the stock market crash which started the Depression - the year of Babe Ruth and Charles Lindbergh, the precise year when night started to fall on the world forever.
Walt is taken by Master Yehudi to a farm in a remote region of rural Kansas, the big sky country - far away from everywhere, but not lonely. Yehudi introduces him to Aesop, a young black cripple of extraordinary intelligence for whom he predicts great things, and Mother Sioux - his housekeeper and a grandniece of Chief Sitting Bull. Being the kid that he is Walk soon tries to run away from his education, but no matter where he goes he always finds Master Yehudi waiting for him with a smile. Realizing that he cannot escape, Walt surrenders and gives himself in to Master Yehudi's Flight course in 33 stages. Yehudi believes that people are not able to lift themselves off the ground because they were taught that such things are impossible, and that only those tainted with little education can overcome their personal disbelief. Yehudi's lessons are hard physical and psychological trials, which include having Walt chop off a part his little finger to show his devotion, and have him to survive the horror of being buried alive to crush his spirit and hope. Only then, Master Yehudi believes, will Walt be able to let go of what he was, defy gravity and lift himself off the ground. Walt manages this in unexpected circumstances, and his new life takes off - he becomes Walt the WonderBoy, and walks on water for the first time in the same year that Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic.
Mr. Vertigo can be divided into two halves. The first part, where Walt meets Master Yehudi and lives with him and his companions in his Kansas estate is engrossing and full of mystery and a sense of wonder. Rural Kansas is far away from Disney's Neverland, and mastering the art of flight is a process full of hardships for young and unruly child that Walt is at the beginning of the novel. Walt is a strong willed, know-all street smart kid, not unlike Mark Twain's Huck Finn, irritated and fascinated by the inscrutable Master Yehudi whom he can't figure out. Walt's determination turns into a strange loyalty to Master Yehudi, and eventually becomes genuine devotion and admiration.
The second part which takes takes Walt across the country in with his flying theatrics remains captivating, but loses the joy of discovery that the first one had. Despite being fantastical it has an air of more seriousness, which is obviously understandable as Walt matures and learns more about people around him. As Walt soars higher into the air, characters which previously seemed to be larger than life are stripped from the cloak of mystery surrounding them and revealed as frail and fractured. Although this reversal serves its purpose, the sense of mystery which made the first part so readable is largely diminished. Walt's life remains adventurous, full of rumble and tumble of the 20th century and an evolving nation with its famous people and places, but there's a sense of loss penetrating the pages - it's unavoidable as characters and people mature and sometimes make bad decisions which have their consequences and can flip their lives on its head. Mr. Vertigo is as much about being able to move on after suffering a loss of something important as it is from being able to embrace it in the first place.
For such a short novel (it's under 300 pages), Mr. Vertigo is reasonably succesful, given the fact that it's Paul Auster's clearest attempt at writing a picaresque novel, with a likable rogue protagonist and a cast of memorable supporting character together with seamless employment of different themes which aim to mirror the development of a whole nation - and a great opening line to boot. Not much to dislike here, but possibly much pleasure to be found within its pages.
Mr. Vertigo is the story of Walter Rawley, who recounts how at the age of nine he made a pact with the man who promised to teach him how to fly. Master Yehudi spotted young Walt on the streets of Saint Louis, sweeping the foul-mouthed and lonely kid off the ground with his promise. Yehudi swears that if he fails to teach Walt how to fly by his thirteenth birthday he can hop off his head with an axe. After weighing his options young Walt decides to take the risk and go away with Yehudi, rather than live a gloomy life of an orphan on the streets Saint Louis. The year was 1927, just two years short of the stock market crash which started the Depression - the year of Babe Ruth and Charles Lindbergh, the precise year when night started to fall on the world forever.
Walt is taken by Master Yehudi to a farm in a remote region of rural Kansas, the big sky country - far away from everywhere, but not lonely. Yehudi introduces him to Aesop, a young black cripple of extraordinary intelligence for whom he predicts great things, and Mother Sioux - his housekeeper and a grandniece of Chief Sitting Bull. Being the kid that he is Walk soon tries to run away from his education, but no matter where he goes he always finds Master Yehudi waiting for him with a smile. Realizing that he cannot escape, Walt surrenders and gives himself in to Master Yehudi's Flight course in 33 stages. Yehudi believes that people are not able to lift themselves off the ground because they were taught that such things are impossible, and that only those tainted with little education can overcome their personal disbelief. Yehudi's lessons are hard physical and psychological trials, which include having Walt chop off a part his little finger to show his devotion, and have him to survive the horror of being buried alive to crush his spirit and hope. Only then, Master Yehudi believes, will Walt be able to let go of what he was, defy gravity and lift himself off the ground. Walt manages this in unexpected circumstances, and his new life takes off - he becomes Walt the WonderBoy, and walks on water for the first time in the same year that Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic.
Mr. Vertigo can be divided into two halves. The first part, where Walt meets Master Yehudi and lives with him and his companions in his Kansas estate is engrossing and full of mystery and a sense of wonder. Rural Kansas is far away from Disney's Neverland, and mastering the art of flight is a process full of hardships for young and unruly child that Walt is at the beginning of the novel. Walt is a strong willed, know-all street smart kid, not unlike Mark Twain's Huck Finn, irritated and fascinated by the inscrutable Master Yehudi whom he can't figure out. Walt's determination turns into a strange loyalty to Master Yehudi, and eventually becomes genuine devotion and admiration.
The second part which takes takes Walt across the country in with his flying theatrics remains captivating, but loses the joy of discovery that the first one had. Despite being fantastical it has an air of more seriousness, which is obviously understandable as Walt matures and learns more about people around him. As Walt soars higher into the air, characters which previously seemed to be larger than life are stripped from the cloak of mystery surrounding them and revealed as frail and fractured. Although this reversal serves its purpose, the sense of mystery which made the first part so readable is largely diminished. Walt's life remains adventurous, full of rumble and tumble of the 20th century and an evolving nation with its famous people and places, but there's a sense of loss penetrating the pages - it's unavoidable as characters and people mature and sometimes make bad decisions which have their consequences and can flip their lives on its head. Mr. Vertigo is as much about being able to move on after suffering a loss of something important as it is from being able to embrace it in the first place.
For such a short novel (it's under 300 pages), Mr. Vertigo is reasonably succesful, given the fact that it's Paul Auster's clearest attempt at writing a picaresque novel, with a likable rogue protagonist and a cast of memorable supporting character together with seamless employment of different themes which aim to mirror the development of a whole nation - and a great opening line to boot. Not much to dislike here, but possibly much pleasure to be found within its pages.
May 11, 2024
Paul Benjamin Auster (1947 - 2024)
Apesar de ter muitos livros de Paul Auster na minha estante (11), só depois do anúncio da morte da última “estrela” da Literatura Americana é que decidi iniciar-me na sua obra, começando por Mr. Vertigo, atraída pela sinopse intrigante e pela reputação do romance como uma das obras mais cativantes de Auster.
É uma história que mergulha nas profundezas da alma humana, explora temas como identidade, amadurecimento e a busca pelo significado da vida.
Quando passamos muito tempo a olhar para o rosto de alguém, acabamos por ter a sensação de que estamos a olhar para nós próprios.
Estamos em 1924, e Walt Rawley, um órfão de 9 anos de idade que vive nas ruas de Nova York durante a Grande Depressão, é recrutado por um misterioso homem chamado Mestre Yehudi para aprender a arte do voo.
Não vales mais do que um animal. Se continuares assim, não chegarás vivo ao fim do Inverno. Se vieres comigo, ensinar-te-ei a voar.
Walt aceita a proposta e segue com o Mestre Yehudi para uma quinta isolada de tudo.
Estamos no Kansas. E podes crer que, em toda a tua vida, nunca viste uma terra mais plana nem mais desolada.
Os primeiros tempos não são fáceis, e como todos os miúdos, ele é rebelde e tem grande resistência a ser educado. Na quinta, Walt faz amizade com um miúdo negro, Esopo, que adora estudar e tem um conhecimento prodigioso, e ganha afeição por Mãe Sioux, neta de Sitting Bull.
Depois de ultrapassadas as primeiras dificuldades, Walt finalmente consegue completar os 33 degraus e acaba por levitar.
Tinha doze anos quando caminhei sobre as águas pela primeira vez. Foi o homem de preto quem me ensinou a fazer isso e não vou pôr-me para aqui com histórias e dizer que aprendi o truque da noite para o dia.
Após um ataque do Ku Klux Klan, Walt e Yehudi partem numa digressão pelos Estados Unidos, e a partir daqui o romance avança rapidamente. Assistimos à ascensão e queda do seu espectáculo, à carreira como gangster, à abertura do seu nightclub Mr. Vertigo e ao regresso a Wichita onde volta a encontrar Mrs. Witherspoon.
Em Mr. Vertigo, Auster convida-nos a voar além das fronteiras da realidade, onde a única queda é a da própria alma, livre para desbravar os céus da imaginação.
É aí que a coisa começa — tudo o mais vem por acréscimo. Temos de nos deixar evaporar. Temos de deixar que os nossos músculos amoleçam, temos de respirar até sentirmos a nossa alma a escoar-se de nós, e, depois, é só fechar os olhos. É assim que se faz. O vazio dentro do nosso corpo torna-se mais leve do que o ar à nossa volta. A pouco e pouco, começamos a pesar menos do que nada. Fechamos os olhos; estendemos os braços; deixamo-nos evaporar. E então, a pouco e pouco, erguemo-nos do chão.
Assim.
4,5 ⭐️
January 27, 2016
4.5/5
هذا الرجل مذهل، روائي قدير فعلاً، خياله خصب ومتنوع ومحكم البناء، قادر على دمج الأسطوري بالواقعي وخلق دراما شديدة الثراء بحبكة متقنة وأحداث متدفقة بلا تلفيق ودون ذرة واحدة من الملل.
ذكرتني هذه الرواية بروايتي ستيفن كينج The green mile و Hearts in Atlantis - وإن كنت لم أقرأهما للأسف لكنني شاهدت الفيلمين الجميلين المقتبسين عنهما - من حيث اعتماد القصة على فكرة خيالية ودمجها في جو واقعي مختلط بأحداث حقيقية وخلق دراما ثرية بناء على هذا التفاعل، كما أن الخيال هنا ليس مرسلا بلا ضوابط بل مرسوم له أسس وقواعد وتبعات ومحبوك بطريقة تجعله يكاد يكون حقيقياً أو ممكنا بشكل ما، وهذه نقطة قوة تحسب للرواية بخلاف الخيال في رواية مثل كافكا على الشاطيء التي كان الخيال فيها مرسلا بلا ضوابط ولا تفسير من أي نوع ما جعل الرواية تتحول "اشتغالة" كبيرة في رأيي، يحدث فيها أي شيء وتنحل أي عقدة لمجرد أن المؤلف "عايز كده".
من ناحية أخرى ذكرتني هذه الرواية برائعة مارك توين "مغامرات هكلبري فين" خاصة في الثلثين الأولين من الرواية بمغامرات بطلها الصبي والتر ورحلته العجيبة برفقة مرشده الفذ.
كل هذا الكلام عما تشبه هذه الرواية كان تجنبا للحديث عن موضوعها ذاته، حيث أنه من التشعب والثراء ما يجعل من المستحيل حكايته أو تلخيصه، كل ما يمكنني قوله أنها رواية عن القدرات الكامنة وقوة الإيمان وصقل المواهب وانتهاز الفرص والصداقة وأشباح الماضي وتقلبات القدر والخيارات الصعبة والمسارات غير المتوقعة، وأنها رواية شديدة الإمتاع وتستحق القراءة بكل تأكيد.
فيما يخص الترجمة فلا بأس بها على الإطلاق بخلاف بعض الهنات البسيطة جدا التي لا تستحق الذكر، وإن كانت هناك نقطة هي السبب في إنقاصي نصف نجمة من التقييم هي اختلاف الأسلوب عنه في ثلاثية نيويورك حيث كان أكثر وهجا بحيث كنت أستعيد مقاطع وصفحات كاملة أحياناً "لأستطعمها"، ولا أدري هل يعزي هذا لاختلاف المترجم أم إلى الكاتب نفسه.
تبقى إشادة واجبة بالمركز القومي للترجمة صاحب الفضل في توفير هذه الرواية البديعة لقراء العربية لأول مرة رغم صدورها منذ ما يقرب من عشرين عاماً، وتوفيرها بسعر معقول (52 جنيه) مع الأخذ في الاعتبار حقوق المؤلف الكبير والترجمة الجيدة بالإضافة للخصومات الكبيرة التي يقدمها المركز عند الشراء من مقره الرئيسي بدار الأوبرا (30% تصل ل50% للطلبة)، وهو في النهاية مقابل زهيد لهذه الرواية الجميلة.
هذا الرجل مذهل، روائي قدير فعلاً، خياله خصب ومتنوع ومحكم البناء، قادر على دمج الأسطوري بالواقعي وخلق دراما شديدة الثراء بحبكة متقنة وأحداث متدفقة بلا تلفيق ودون ذرة واحدة من الملل.
ذكرتني هذه الرواية بروايتي ستيفن كينج The green mile و Hearts in Atlantis - وإن كنت لم أقرأهما للأسف لكنني شاهدت الفيلمين الجميلين المقتبسين عنهما - من حيث اعتماد القصة على فكرة خيالية ودمجها في جو واقعي مختلط بأحداث حقيقية وخلق دراما ثرية بناء على هذا التفاعل، كما أن الخيال هنا ليس مرسلا بلا ضوابط بل مرسوم له أسس وقواعد وتبعات ومحبوك بطريقة تجعله يكاد يكون حقيقياً أو ممكنا بشكل ما، وهذه نقطة قوة تحسب للرواية بخلاف الخيال في رواية مثل كافكا على الشاطيء التي كان الخيال فيها مرسلا بلا ضوابط ولا تفسير من أي نوع ما جعل الرواية تتحول "اشتغالة" كبيرة في رأيي، يحدث فيها أي شيء وتنحل أي عقدة لمجرد أن المؤلف "عايز كده".
من ناحية أخرى ذكرتني هذه الرواية برائعة مارك توين "مغامرات هكلبري فين" خاصة في الثلثين الأولين من الرواية بمغامرات بطلها الصبي والتر ورحلته العجيبة برفقة مرشده الفذ.
كل هذا الكلام عما تشبه هذه الرواية كان تجنبا للحديث عن موضوعها ذاته، حيث أنه من التشعب والثراء ما يجعل من المستحيل حكايته أو تلخيصه، كل ما يمكنني قوله أنها رواية عن القدرات الكامنة وقوة الإيمان وصقل المواهب وانتهاز الفرص والصداقة وأشباح الماضي وتقلبات القدر والخيارات الصعبة والمسارات غير المتوقعة، وأنها رواية شديدة الإمتاع وتستحق القراءة بكل تأكيد.
فيما يخص الترجمة فلا بأس بها على الإطلاق بخلاف بعض الهنات البسيطة جدا التي لا تستحق الذكر، وإن كانت هناك نقطة هي السبب في إنقاصي نصف نجمة من التقييم هي اختلاف الأسلوب عنه في ثلاثية نيويورك حيث كان أكثر وهجا بحيث كنت أستعيد مقاطع وصفحات كاملة أحياناً "لأستطعمها"، ولا أدري هل يعزي هذا لاختلاف المترجم أم إلى الكاتب نفسه.
تبقى إشادة واجبة بالمركز القومي للترجمة صاحب الفضل في توفير هذه الرواية البديعة لقراء العربية لأول مرة رغم صدورها منذ ما يقرب من عشرين عاماً، وتوفيرها بسعر معقول (52 جنيه) مع الأخذ في الاعتبار حقوق المؤلف الكبير والترجمة الجيدة بالإضافة للخصومات الكبيرة التي يقدمها المركز عند الشراء من مقره الرئيسي بدار الأوبرا (30% تصل ل50% للطلبة)، وهو في النهاية مقابل زهيد لهذه الرواية الجميلة.
March 19, 2017
يا جمالك يا بول يا أوستر.
يجب التنويه إلى أن الترجمة عظيمة جدا.
يجب التنويه إلى أن الترجمة عظيمة جدا.
June 27, 2016
I listened to more than half of this and could stand it no longer.
The audiobook narration by Kevin Pariseau is perfectly fine. I have no complaints whatsoever on this account. It is the book itself I had trouble with.
-It is about a boy who can fly. There is absolutely no way I can deal with the fantasy of this.
-I detested the crude, vulgar language. Farts and defecating and continuous swearing.
-The plot is simplistic.
-The details of the time and setting are minimal. This is not historical fiction. You learn zero.
-I feel nothing for any of the characters.
-If there is humor, well I didn't see it.
I don't believe this book can possibly come to a meaningful conclusion. Yeah I could be wrong, but actually for me the passage through a book is more important than how it concludes.
I don't usually dump books, but this is an exception to the rule. Read it at your own risk.
Timbuktu 4 stars
Moon Palace 2 stars
The audiobook narration by Kevin Pariseau is perfectly fine. I have no complaints whatsoever on this account. It is the book itself I had trouble with.
-It is about a boy who can fly. There is absolutely no way I can deal with the fantasy of this.
-I detested the crude, vulgar language. Farts and defecating and continuous swearing.
-The plot is simplistic.
-The details of the time and setting are minimal. This is not historical fiction. You learn zero.
-I feel nothing for any of the characters.
-If there is humor, well I didn't see it.
I don't believe this book can possibly come to a meaningful conclusion. Yeah I could be wrong, but actually for me the passage through a book is more important than how it concludes.
I don't usually dump books, but this is an exception to the rule. Read it at your own risk.
Timbuktu 4 stars
Moon Palace 2 stars
July 10, 2016
Hmmm. Three Paul Auster books under my belt and all three I have awarded 3 stars. I had higher hopes for this one. In fact I would go so far to say I loved the first third of the book. 'Tis a page-turning romp all about Walt, a poorly orphan, who is plucked from his destiny to fulfil another’s, that of Master Yehudi. For the Master has been searching all his life for the one boy he could teach to fly.
A punishing, almost sadistic training schedule begins, for the Master must break Walt in order to start him all over again. All good so far. The house in which the Master lives, profit from his days of gambling, is a nowhere-place on the bleak prairies of Kansas. The other inhabitants are Mother Sue (Sioux) and Aesop, a crippled Ethiopian taught to be a terribly proper genius in the English tradition.
Not long after this the story starts to lose its way for me. There were kind-of unexpected premature deaths. There was a boy who could fly. An uncle eager for this golden goose, that plotted revenge and turned up in kind-of unexpected moments. It was all kind-of unexpected. It felt, to me, that the author did not know where to go.
But it was the part with Walt as an adult running his own business that I found yawnsome and pointless. The story of him and his favourite baseball player was… God, it was terrible. ‘Vertigo’? The latter third of the book is more like ‘Serpigo.’
A punishing, almost sadistic training schedule begins, for the Master must break Walt in order to start him all over again. All good so far. The house in which the Master lives, profit from his days of gambling, is a nowhere-place on the bleak prairies of Kansas. The other inhabitants are Mother Sue (Sioux) and Aesop, a crippled Ethiopian taught to be a terribly proper genius in the English tradition.
Not long after this the story starts to lose its way for me. There were kind-of unexpected premature deaths. There was a boy who could fly. An uncle eager for this golden goose, that plotted revenge and turned up in kind-of unexpected moments. It was all kind-of unexpected. It felt, to me, that the author did not know where to go.
But it was the part with Walt as an adult running his own business that I found yawnsome and pointless. The story of him and his favourite baseball player was… God, it was terrible. ‘Vertigo’? The latter third of the book is more like ‘Serpigo.’
February 4, 2018
SIORE E SIORI ...ecco a voi Walt,il bambino prodigio...
La storia è avvincente e commovente,
con molti colpi di scena, voli eccezionali e cadute dolorose
e i personaggi straordinari, fuori dal comune:
Esopo,il ragazzino nero, esile e deforme,dalla brillante intelligenza, l'amico-fratello;
mamma Sioux,la donna mastodontica,di poche parole, dal sorriso-più -bello-del-mondo;
mrs Whiterspoon, la rossa vulcanica, intraprendente e sensuale;
il Maestro Yehudi ,uomo misterioso, carismatico, sagace e saggio, a volte crudele,
che insegna al protagonista la meravigliosa arte di volare
e Walt, il bambino volante...
scaltro, vivace, tenace ,capace di arrivare in alto - come nessun altro -
ma soprattutto di rialzarsi da tutte le cadute.
Sempre .
E poi c'è la Chicago degli anni 30,
gangster, biscazzieri, soldi, fughe , giocatori di baseball , pistole, incontri inaspettati
PS: e c'è un regalo che...fa la differenza, ad un certo punto del libro,anzi no,
non è il regalo,è il biglietto
( una frase,una frase soltanto)
La storia è avvincente e commovente,
con molti colpi di scena, voli eccezionali e cadute dolorose
e i personaggi straordinari, fuori dal comune:
Esopo,il ragazzino nero, esile e deforme,dalla brillante intelligenza, l'amico-fratello;
mamma Sioux,la donna mastodontica,di poche parole, dal sorriso-più -bello-del-mondo;
mrs Whiterspoon, la rossa vulcanica, intraprendente e sensuale;
il Maestro Yehudi ,uomo misterioso, carismatico, sagace e saggio, a volte crudele,
che insegna al protagonista la meravigliosa arte di volare
e Walt, il bambino volante...
scaltro, vivace, tenace ,capace di arrivare in alto - come nessun altro -
ma soprattutto di rialzarsi da tutte le cadute.
Sempre .
E poi c'è la Chicago degli anni 30,
gangster, biscazzieri, soldi, fughe , giocatori di baseball , pistole, incontri inaspettati
PS: e c'è un regalo che...fa la differenza, ad un certo punto del libro,anzi no,
non è il regalo,è il biglietto
( una frase,una frase soltanto)
March 18, 2022
Βαθμολογία: 9/10
Ο αγαπητός Πολ Όστερ κατάφερε για άλλη μια φορά να με ξετρελάνει με τις ιστορίες που σκαρφίζεται το μυαλό του, αλλά κυρίως με την υπέροχη γραφή του και τη χειμαρρώδη αφήγηση (κάτι που φυσικά ισχύει για όλα του τα μυθιστορήματα). Έχοντας διαβάσει αρκετά βιβλία του ("Τριλογία της Νέας Υόρκης", "Η μουσική του πεπρωμένου", "Τιμπουκτού", "Το παλάτι του Φεγγαριού" και τώρα το "Mr. Vertigo") το ότι είναι τόσο υπέροχος συγγραφέας δεν θα έπρεπε να με εκπλήττει πλέον, αλλά έτσι είναι, οι αλήθειες να λέγονται. Και με αυτό το βιβλίο ο Όστερ κατάφερε να με καθηλώσει κυριολεκτικά από την πρώτη μέχρι την τελευταία σελίδα, και να με κάνει ένα με τον φοβερό αφηγητή και την απίστευτη ιστορία του. Φυσικά, υπάρχουν πράγματα που δύσκολα γίνονται πιστευτά, αλλά εκεί κρύβεται και η όλη μαγεία κατά τη γνώμη μου, ενώ ο συγγραφέας βρίσκει την ευκαιρία να γίνει και λίγο φιλόσοφος της ζωής, να θίξει κάποια ζητήματα, γράφοντας ουσιαστικά μια ιστορία ενηλικίωσης γεμάτη με συμβολισμούς και με γλώσσα που σε ταξιδεύει και σε απορροφά τελείως... Ειλικρινά σας λέω, αν το αναγνωστικό μπλοκάρισμα σας χτυπά την πόρτα, με αυτό το βιβλίο νομίζω ότι θα το ξεπεράσετε στο πιτς φιτίλι! Όσον αφορά τη βαθμολογία του βιβλίου, μπορεί τα πέντε αστεράκια που θα του βάλω (που κανονικά είναι τεσσεράμισι) να φαίνονται υπερβολικά, όμως διάολε πέρασα τόσο υπέροχα διαβάζοντας το, μου χάρισε τόσες εικόνες και συναισθήματα, που νιώθω ότι έχω μια υποχρέωση απέναντί του. Άλ��ωστε, γούστο μου και καπέλο μου!
Ο αγαπητός Πολ Όστερ κατάφερε για άλλη μια φορά να με ξετρελάνει με τις ιστορίες που σκαρφίζεται το μυαλό του, αλλά κυρίως με την υπέροχη γραφή του και τη χειμαρρώδη αφήγηση (κάτι που φυσικά ισχύει για όλα του τα μυθιστορήματα). Έχοντας διαβάσει αρκετά βιβλία του ("Τριλογία της Νέας Υόρκης", "Η μουσική του πεπρωμένου", "Τιμπουκτού", "Το παλάτι του Φεγγαριού" και τώρα το "Mr. Vertigo") το ότι είναι τόσο υπέροχος συγγραφέας δεν θα έπρεπε να με εκπλήττει πλέον, αλλά έτσι είναι, οι αλήθειες να λέγονται. Και με αυτό το βιβλίο ο Όστερ κατάφερε να με καθηλώσει κυριολεκτικά από την πρώτη μέχρι την τελευταία σελίδα, και να με κάνει ένα με τον φοβερό αφηγητή και την απίστευτη ιστορία του. Φυσικά, υπάρχουν πράγματα που δύσκολα γίνονται πιστευτά, αλλά εκεί κρύβεται και η όλη μαγεία κατά τη γνώμη μου, ενώ ο συγγραφέας βρίσκει την ευκαιρία να γίνει και λίγο φιλόσοφος της ζωής, να θίξει κάποια ζητήματα, γράφοντας ουσιαστικά μια ιστορία ενηλικίωσης γεμάτη με συμβολισμούς και με γλώσσα που σε ταξιδεύει και σε απορροφά τελείως... Ειλικρινά σας λέω, αν το αναγνωστικό μπλοκάρισμα σας χτυπά την πόρτα, με αυτό το βιβλίο νομίζω ότι θα το ξεπεράσετε στο πιτς φιτίλι! Όσον αφορά τη βαθμολογία του βιβλίου, μπορεί τα πέντε αστεράκια που θα του βάλω (που κανονικά είναι τεσσεράμισι) να φαίνονται υπερβολικά, όμως διάολε πέρασα τόσο υπέροχα διαβάζοντας το, μου χάρισε τόσες εικόνες και συναισθήματα, που νιώθω ότι έχω μια υποχρέωση απέναντί του. Άλ��ωστε, γούστο μου και καπέλο μου!
June 30, 2025
El comienzo es prometedor: Yo tenía doce años la primera vez que anduve sobre el agua.
Sin embargo, todo lo que viene después está contado de un modo tan tedioso que le mina a uno las ganas de seguir leyendo.
Un ejemplo:
En el segundo capítulo el narrador nos dice que, después de irse a vivir a una granja con el tipo que le había prometido enseñarle a volar, intentó escaparse hasta en cuatro ocasiones, las cuatro sin éxito. Unos párrafos más adelante el narrador nos empieza contar uno por uno esos cuatro intentos. Se podría pensar que, dado que ha renunciado a crear suspense (ya sabemos que no va a conseguir escaparse), al menos su relato tendrá un poco de gracia o aportará algún dato importante para el desarrollo de la historia. Pues no. Resulta tan entretenido como si yo les anuncio que voy a contar cómo me he preparado un tazón de cereales para desayunar y a continuación voy y les cuento cómo me he preparado un tazón de cereales para desayunar: he cogido el tazón, he cogido el paquete de cereales, he echado un puñado de cereales en el tazón, he cogido el cartón de leche...
Pues casi toda la novela vuela así de bajo. De hecho, en cuanto aparece algún elemento mínimamente interesante (un personaje, un escenario, un acontecimiento que se vislumbra en el horizonte), va Auster y lo hace desaparecer sin más para seguir con otra cosa aburrida.
Como tortura, muy buena.
Sin embargo, todo lo que viene después está contado de un modo tan tedioso que le mina a uno las ganas de seguir leyendo.
Un ejemplo:
En el segundo capítulo el narrador nos dice que, después de irse a vivir a una granja con el tipo que le había prometido enseñarle a volar, intentó escaparse hasta en cuatro ocasiones, las cuatro sin éxito. Unos párrafos más adelante el narrador nos empieza contar uno por uno esos cuatro intentos. Se podría pensar que, dado que ha renunciado a crear suspense (ya sabemos que no va a conseguir escaparse), al menos su relato tendrá un poco de gracia o aportará algún dato importante para el desarrollo de la historia. Pues no. Resulta tan entretenido como si yo les anuncio que voy a contar cómo me he preparado un tazón de cereales para desayunar y a continuación voy y les cuento cómo me he preparado un tazón de cereales para desayunar: he cogido el tazón, he cogido el paquete de cereales, he echado un puñado de cereales en el tazón, he cogido el cartón de leche...
Pues casi toda la novela vuela así de bajo. De hecho, en cuanto aparece algún elemento mínimamente interesante (un personaje, un escenario, un acontecimiento que se vislumbra en el horizonte), va Auster y lo hace desaparecer sin más para seguir con otra cosa aburrida.
Como tortura, muy buena.
November 14, 2020
Keske filmi cekilse de izlesek... Okurken her sahneyi gozumde canlandirdim zaten..:)
August 19, 2019
4,5/5. Απολαυστικός, τίμιος Όστερ. Σε γραπώνει από την πρώτη μέχρι την τελευταία σελίδα, παρά το περίεργο κεντρικό του εύρημα. Όστερ, μια σταθερά, στην οποία επιστρέφεις για να ξεδιαλύνει οιασδήποτε φύσης και προέλευσης "αναγνωστικό μπλοκάρισμα".
January 7, 2018
Mi sono commossa e non me l'aspettavo proprio. È vero che si trattava del mio secondo Auster e sembrava una battaglia già vinta in partenza, ma avevo scelto questo titolo completamente alla cieca. E invece è stato una rivelazione.
Walter Rawley, anche noto come il Bambino Prodigio e poi Mr Vertigo, attraversa un cinquantennio di storia americana e si conquista tutto il nostro affetto. Ci porta con sé in un folle viaggio tra le metropoli e i deserti degli Stati Uniti, tra spettacoli di levitazione, storie di gangster, partite di baseball e abbaglianti locali notturni, sempre con la sua lingua lunga e la testa piena di sogni.
La scrittura di Auster come sempre è avvolgente, appassionata, a tratti irriverente e crea dipendenza. Proprio per questo motivo non so quale santo ringraziare per la produzione letteraria di questo scrittore che (per fortuna) mi terrà impegnata per un bel po' di tempo.
Walter Rawley, anche noto come il Bambino Prodigio e poi Mr Vertigo, attraversa un cinquantennio di storia americana e si conquista tutto il nostro affetto. Ci porta con sé in un folle viaggio tra le metropoli e i deserti degli Stati Uniti, tra spettacoli di levitazione, storie di gangster, partite di baseball e abbaglianti locali notturni, sempre con la sua lingua lunga e la testa piena di sogni.
La scrittura di Auster come sempre è avvolgente, appassionata, a tratti irriverente e crea dipendenza. Proprio per questo motivo non so quale santo ringraziare per la produzione letteraria di questo scrittore che (per fortuna) mi terrà impegnata per un bel po' di tempo.
February 12, 2019
I was drawn to read this book because of my fondness for the outstanding writing skills of the author. However, I must say that this novel doesn't quite live up to the other Auster novels I have read. Perhaps it is the premise of the novel: a boy who (literally) learns to fly. This attempt to mix realism with magic realism does not work in my opinion. The story is well told and certainly held my interest, but the "believability" factor left me cold. Auster took a risk in writing outside of his usual genre (novels that, in one way or other, resemble the trajectory of his own life). However, sometimes it's best to stick closely to what one does well. Auster is a master of the semi-autobiographical novel, and I hope he continues to pursue that path.
March 28, 2017
يتميز "بول أوستر" بأنه قادر، في أى وقت، على أن ينقل لك شعور اقتراب النهاية. الشعور بالخطر، التهديد، عدم الراحة، هناك شئ خاطئ يحدث في هذا العالم. أنت لا تعلم ما هو لكنه موجود وحاضر بقوة.
رواية عجيبة، طفل يتعلم الطيران على يد معلم غريب. يطوّر الفتى في داخله عقدة ستوكهولم الشهيرة ويصبح عبدًا لأستاذه.
تتحدث الرواية عن التحولات التي يمكن للشخص، ذو الحضور القوي، فرضها، الطفل البرئ الذي كان يمارس هواية اللعب في ثقب أنفه يتحوّل إلى فرد في عصابة، شخص قاسٍ يستطيع مواجهة الحياة بما تستحقه من عنف.
تجربة جيدة. بول اوستر يربح مرة أخرى.
رواية عجيبة، طفل يتعلم الطيران على يد معلم غريب. يطوّر الفتى في داخله عقدة ستوكهولم الشهيرة ويصبح عبدًا لأستاذه.
تتحدث الرواية عن التحولات التي يمكن للشخص، ذو الحضور القوي، فرضها، الطفل البرئ الذي كان يمارس هواية اللعب في ثقب أنفه يتحوّل إلى فرد في عصابة، شخص قاسٍ يستطيع مواجهة الحياة بما تستحقه من عنف.
تجربة جيدة. بول اوستر يربح مرة أخرى.
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