Ghosts

by César Aira, Chris Andrews (Translator)

“On a building site of a new, luxury apartment building, visitors looked up at the strange, irregular form of the water tank that crowned the edifice, and the big parabolic dish that would supply television images to all the floors. On the edge of the dish, a sharp metallic edge on which no bird would have dared to perch, three completely naked men were sitting, with their faces turned up to the midday sun; no one saw them, of course.”—from GhostsGhosts is about a construction worker's family squatting on a building site. They all see large and handsome ghosts around their quarters, but the teenage daughter is the most curious. Her questions about them become more and more heartfelt until the story reaches a critical, chilling moment when the mother realizes that her daughter's life hangs in the balance.

Genres: Fiction, Latin American, Fantasy, Literature, Novels, Novella, Spanish Literature

141 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1990

About the author

César Aira was born in Coronel Pringles, Argentina in 1949, and has lived in Buenos Aires since 1967. He taught at the University of Buenos Aires (about Copi and Rimbaud) and at the University of Rosario (Constructivism and Mallarmé), and has translated and edited books from France, England, Italy, Brazil, Spain, Mexico, and Venezuela. Perhaps one of the most prolific writers in Argentina, and certainly one of the most talked about in Latin America, Aira has published more than eighty books to date in Argentina, Mexico, Colombia, Venezuela, Chile, and Spain, which have been translated for France, Great Britain, Italy, Brazil, Portugal, Greece, Austria, Romania, Russia, and now the United States. One novel, La prueba, has been made into a feature film, and How I Became a Nun was chosen as one of Argentina’s ten best books. Besides essays and novels Aira writes regularly for the Spanish newspaper El País. In 1996 he received a Guggenheim scholarship, in 2002 he was short listed for the Rómulo Gallegos prize, and has been shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize.

Reviews

[Kobe Bryant · Rating 3 out of 5]

He seemed to really want us to understand that these ghosts had weiners

[karen · Rating 3 out of 5]

like so many things in life, this book is visually beautiful, but once you get into it, it disappoints.

the problem it suffers from is that it is way too short to try to keep redefining itself. is it a ghost story? a family story? a class story? the meditation on chilean/argentinian conflict and integration? a series of philosophical musings? the story of young girl's emotional entree into sexuality and adulthood? the problem is it tries to do it all. remember when michael jordan played baseball? yeah, that sucked.
this is less embarrassing, and it has some really nice passages in it; mostly involving food shopping and some awesome descriptions of fruit. but i was instructed to read "landscaper painter", and i will give that one a go later. for now i will just gaze at the lone white spot on the cover and try to hypnotize myself into appreciating it more.

p.s. - in case you were wondering, rohinsky, this applies to your december rules because of a christmas carol, and the ghosts therein.

[cypt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kaip man patiko "Vaiduokliai"! Keisti, kaip ir Vienas keliaujančio dailininko gyvenimo nutikimas. Bet iš šitų poros knygų kažkaip atrodo, kad visai mano autorius. Bent jau mano dviejų knygų autorius :)

Kaip ir "Nutikime", čia toks romanas-įvykis, gal net išplėsta novelė, teksto pagrindas - įvykis: Naujų metų šventimas vienoje šeimoje, neužbaigtame statyti pastate, kurio sargu dirba šeimos tėvas. Aira kaip Kiarostamis šokinėja iš vieno personažo perspektyvos į kitą, kaip koks demoniukas, kuris vis kitoj galvoj apsigyvena ir vis kitu balsu prabyla.

Nu o vidury, kaip ir "Nutikime", - dar vienas Nutikimas, ištisus puslapius trunkantis šuolis į beveik teorinius, beveik patosiškus antropologijos-struktūralizmo pamąstymus, apie tai, kas yra literatūra, architektūra, kas yra vieta, kokiose gentelėse kaip ta vieta dėliojasi. Labai gražu, kad tas nuklydimas atsiranda tada, kai pagrindinė veikėja (tuo metu mes dar nežinome, kad ji bus pagrindinė veikėja) sapnuoja. Ir paskui išgaruoja - kaip ir sapnas, taip ir moksliniai argumentai. Ir tas sapnas, kaip ir Nutikime, perkeičia veikėją taip, kad galiausiai pabaigoje ji... neteisinga būtų sakyti. Va, pasakiau kaip Aira. Gražūs jo tekstai, šiaip kol kas nesu labai didelė Lot. Amerikos literatūros fanė, bet va šisai - tikras atsivėrimas.

Ir vaiduokliai - nuogi, miltuoti vyrai, nuolatos įsiterpiantys tarp vieno veikėjo ir visų kitų, tarp šeimos dramos ir creepy pasakos, tarp realizmo ir literatūros. Labai gražu.

Sapnavo pastatą, kurio viršuje miegojo, ne tokį, koks bus vėliau, jau užbaigtas ir apgyvendintas, bet dabartinį, dar tiktai statomą. Tai buvo ramus vaizdas, be nerimą keliančių pranašiškų ženklų ar vizijų, beveik atkartojantis tikrovę. Bet tarp sapno ir tikrovės visada išlieka tam tikras skirtumas, tuo labiau pastebimas, kuo mažiau jie kontrastingi. Šiuo atveju skirtumas atsispindėjo architektūroje, kuri pati yra jungiamasis ryšys tarp to, kas buvo jau pastatyta, ir to, kas dar tiktai bus. Tiltas tarp šiųdviejų sąvokų buvo trečioji – neužbaigta statyba.
Neužbaigtumas būdingas tiems menams, kuriems įgyvendinti reikalingas daugelio žmonių apmokamas darbas, medžiagų pirkimas, brangios įrangos naudojimas ir panašiai. [...] Bet galima įsivaizduoti meną, kuriame beveik išnyksta tikrovės apribojimai, kuriame tarp to, kas užbaigta, ir to, kas neužbaigta, nėra skirtumo, kuris tampa realiu menu akimirksniu, be jokių vaiduoklių. Turbūt esama tokio, ir tai – literatūra. (p. 66-67)

Ta jo ironija - ❤:

Tas butų apžiūrinėjimas kiekviename aukšte nuo vieno galo iki kito jas paskatino apsvarstyti dvi ne be priežasties jas dominusias temas – mediciną ir santuoką. Inesa Vinjas buvo aistringa homeopatijos šalininkė ir kiekviena proga karštai ją rekomenduodavo, apie savo pažįstamą seneliuką homeopatą kalbėdavo kaip apie kokį šamaną, kuris tiksliomis ir menkutėmis dozėmis galįs išgydyti bet ką. Svainė Eliza, nors ir nebuvo tradicinės medicinos šalininkė (pripažino, kad neverta jos palaikyti, tai tesąs verslas), vis dėlto teikė šiai pirmenybę, nes įsitikinimus pakeisti sunku. Yra žmonių, kurie tiesiog netiki tuo, kalbėjo ji, ir aš esu viena iš jų. Bet galėtum pasistengti! – įtikinėjo Inesa. Jei užtektų tik pasistengti, jau būčiau tai padariusi – vien dėl to, kad įtikčiau tau, atsakė Eliza. Nereikia jokių pastangų, brangioji, tiesiog patikėk! O Eliza: bet reikia pasistengti. O jeigu netiki – nieko nebus. Eliza, brangioji, aš tikrai negaliu tavęs suprasti, nors ir mėginu, prisiekiu. Na, o kas būtų, jei tiesiog išbandytum tą paslaugą? Visas pokalbis buvo, galima sakyti, abstraktus, nes nė viena iš jų nesirgo ir nė nemanė, kad serga. Turbūt dėl to ir galėjo apie tai svarstyti. Klausyk, Inesa, homeopatija ar bet kuris kitas magiškas vaistas veikia tik tuos, kurie juo tiki. Eliza, bet tu labai klysti! Daugybė žmonių, kurie netikėjo, buvo išgydyti. Tikrai? Bet argi nepatikėjo vėliau? Žinoma, patikėjo, kodėl neturėtų? Tą ir turiu omenyje: reikia tikėti, nesvarbu, anksčiau ar vėliau. Juk tai ne tas pats! Nesvarbu; mane įtikins tik tas, kuris visiškai netiki, kuris buvo išgydytas ir toliau netikėjo. Bet tai neįmanoma! Būtent – pameni, ką tau sakiau? (p. 96-97)

Toks vietom ties muilo opera, vietom ties parodija balansuojantis pasakojimas, vis dėlto kažkaip nenuslystantis niekur, kaip koks vaiduoklis - ne iškart pasirodantis, gal biški vietom vulgarokas, tai perregimas, tai ne, va tiesiog toks. Perskaičiau ir jau pasiilgau.

[Jim Elkins]

Reasons to Stop Reading César Aira

When I read Ghosts (1990) in 2009, the year it was translated, there were only five things in English: four novels, and a chapter chosen by Roberto Bolaño in an anthology. This was my reaction:

When he is at his best (in, say, one of every ten books) Aira has no competitors in contemporary Latin American fiction. When have you ever read — when will you ever read again — a ghost story in which the ghosts don't really want anything, in which some people care and others don't, in which most ghosts are naked overweight men covered with white construction dust, in which the author keeps getting distracted by laundry, children playing, the construction of concrete apartment houses, the problems of shopping, the intrinsic interest of fruit, the philosophic correspondence of memory and time? No one thinks like Aira, and no one writes like him. And one in ten is not bad. I'm thinking I'll have to read everything that is translated, no matter how many books appear, no matter how popular he gets...

Now, in 2025, there must be several dozen works in English. My reading went in an arc: at first everything, and now, nothing. I wrote nine reviews here, on the unfortunate lingering influence (and disavowal) of magic realism, on why Aira's books are more views, samples, or installments rather than novels or short stories, and on what happens when he turned to nonfiction. I don't read him anymore because the surprises in his fiction, even though they are clearly often surprises to the author himself, and therefore causes of mischief and happiness, are evanescent. The lack of structure and surreal juxtapositions are ineffective at suppressing a feeling of evasion: Aira plays in order not to think.

[Ruby Tombstone Lives! · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm about to pick my life up and start again, 2,000km away in the tropics. I want to take all of Aira's books with me to be the books I look back on as symbolic of this time. There's a warm, easygoing, daydreamy sensibility to the writing that I could happily bathe in. There's a pragmatism to the characters, and a sense of irony mixed with magical realism that could only be Latin American. Reading this was a lush, atmospheric, sensual and intellectual treat.



All that aside, I've agonised over how to rate this book. As much as I loved the experience of reading Ghosts, there is a flaw that I just can't get past. The "analogies". Many times throughout the book, (including one instance that went for ten pages) Aira embarks on complex analogies that..... just don't work. I spent considerable effort rereading these, unsure if I was missing something or there was a translation issue, only to come to the conclusion that the analogies ARE actually underdeveloped and incomplete. Aira begins an analogy then jumps ahead ten steps and says, "See?", expecting the reader to easily see how he extrapolates to that point, then jumps to another analogy which is only partly complete when he jumps to the next vague analogy.....You see what I'm getting at.

An analogy should draw you a complete mental picture of a concept. It should be an equation:
x=a and y=b, and we know a+b=c, therefore x+y=c also.
Aira's analogies read more like: x=a therefore c=y-[oh look, a zebra!]

It's the assumption of the author, when he speaks to the reader, or when characters speak among themselves, that the logic is clear, concrete and irrefutable and that the other is not only following the logic but extrapolating for themselves. But it isn't. So towards the end of the book, I began to think of the analogies as if they were the vague musings of the characters themselves, rather than effort on behalf of the writer to impute something to the reader. This helped, as the reader can easily accept flaws on the part of a character in a novel, but those flaws are much harder to come to terms with when they are the fault of the author himself. It was at this point, I realised I was merely a character in Aira's book and disappeared in a puff of metafiction.



Despite the flawed logic, even the analogies have a beauty to them. Take this one for example, from the middle of a ten page series of linking analogies about.... I don't even know what:
But the Australians, what do the Australians do? How do they structure their landscape? For a start they postulate a primal builder, whose work they presume only to interpret: the mythical animal who was active in the “dreamtime,” that is, a primal era, beyond verification, as the name indicates. A time of sleep. The visible landscape is an effect of causes that are to be found in the dreamtime. For example, the snake that dragged itself over this plain creating these undulations, etc. etc. These curious Aborigines make sure their eyes are closed while events take place, which allows them to see places as records of events. But what they see is a kind of dream, and they wake into a reverie, since the real story (the snake, not the hills) happened while they were asleep.

At the end of the day, I adore this book, flaws and all. Fuck it. I'm giving it 5 stars.

[Banu Yıldıran Genç · Rating 4 out of 5]

césar aire kitapları çok başkadır. acayip gerçekçiymiş gibi başlayan roman bir anda bambaşka bir yöne yelken açabilir, gerçeküstü karakterlerle karşılaşabilir, arada lafa karışan yazara sinir olabilir ama esprilerine gülmekten kendinizi alamazsınız.
hayaletler de yine böyle bir roman. arjantin’in başkenti buenos aires’te bitmek üzere olan bir inşaatta başlatan roman 31 aralık sabahı başlayıp saatler gece yarısını gösterdiğinde bitiyor.
önce uzun uzun apartmanı okuyor, zengin tiplere sinir oluyor ve konu şilili kapıcılara geldiğinde aradaki sınıfsal farka ve ırkçılığa şahitlik ediyoruz. ikinci fotoda altını çizdiğim cümlenin sokakta her gün suriyeli göçmenler için söylendiğini duyabilirsiniz mesela. insan maalesef her yerde aynı.
kalabalık bir sülaleye mensup şilili göçmen kapıcı ailemizi de uzun uzun anlatıyor yazar. bitmemiş apartmanda bir aşağı bir yukarı oynayan çocukları ve onların üvey ablası petra’yı tanıyoruz bu kez.
başka kimleri tanımalıyız? apartmanda ortalıkta anadan üryan gezinip duran hayaletleri. niçin ve nasıl oradalar, bilmiyoruz. şilili aile gayet farkında hayaletlerin.
yılbaşı akşamı için tatlı tatlı hazırlanan bu yoksul ailenin sıla hasretini öyle iyi anlıyoruz ki sonlara doğru…
sofrada birbirlerine anlattıkları hayalet hikayelerinden her şeyin gayet doğal olduğunu da çıkarabiliriz belki.
kendini yersiz yurtsuz hisseden ergenlik çağındaki petra’nın, kitabın son 30 sayfasında bekleyip durduğunuz hareketinin sebebini de anlamak mümkün.
aira kısacık romanlarına felsefe, mimari ve daha pek çok şey katabiliyor. araya girip duran yazarları çok sevmem ama aira bunu ustalıkla yapıyor.
bu kısacık romanda böylesi güçlü bir konuyu işlemiş. inşaattan başlayıp gurbete ve göçe uzanan roman tam da türkiye gibi aslında.
çeviride pek çok hata vardı ama yayınevinden ve cem bey’den söz aldım. ikinci baskıya düzelecek, o yüzden burada paylaşmaya gerek yok.

[Cosimo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Il sorriso misterioso dei fantasmi

“Si potrebbe concepire un'arte nella quale le limitazioni della realtà fossero minime, nella quale il fatto e il non fatto si confondessero, un'arte istantaneamente reale e senza fantasmi. Forse esiste, ed è la letteratura”.

Non si può restare indifferenti a questo libro di César Aira, scrittore che, nelle parole di Bolano, sfugge a qualsiasi classificazione, collocandosi così in una complessità vicina alla grandezza di Macedonio Fernandez. Felici, disperati, illusi o ingannati, forse. Ma annoiati mai. C'è un suo testo intitolato “Como me reì”, tipico e consueto commento nelle lettere dei suoi lettori, al quale Aira è solito rispondere “Non vedo cosa ci fosse da ridere”. Siamo quindi nel territorio delle idee, del pensiero, in questa favola ibrida, gotica e poetica, ambientata nella calda Buenos Aires e interpretata da donne. Per quanto oniriche e surreali, le storie di Aira muovono alla ricerca di un'alterità, un altrove, forse persino un universo sconosciuto, parallelo al nostro, in qualche modo. E così l'esito logico dei suoi racconti è quello speciale modello di festa a cui prende parte una sola persona, il sogno. Spesso senza nemmeno curarsi di nascondere il procedimento, con tanto di metaracconto narrato alla tavola di una fantastica famiglia cilena, per l'ultimo dell'anno. I fantasmi qui si presentano sotto forma di pensiero estraneo, occasione unica, remota illuminazione, aspirazione all'eterno; e quindi trasformano la scena da cartoon per bambini in visione allucinata simbolica: l'apertura di un vuoto, nel quale vola o cade, senza nulla di definitivo che non sia il rispondere al loro canto, l'adolescente protagonista. La quale è investita della bellezza effimera di quel momento, nel quale si può ancora decidere di non diventare adulti, di non oltrepassare il confine che separa gli esseri umani dalle bestie, i ricchi dai poveri, la felicità dall'angoscia. E infine, entra forse in un mondo alternativo, migliore e più bello di quello presente già solo perché altro, diverso, secondo, fuori da questo. Per fortuna, scrive Aira, esiste un ancoraggio al nostro mondo, che serve a non pensare, a riposare nel piacere, ed è leggere romanzi: meravigliosi oggetti che si sostengono sul vuoto, come tutte le altre cose.

“Eppure una festa, pensò, aveva qualcosa di serio, di importante. Era una sospensione della vita, di tutte le serietà della vita, per poter fare qualcosa senza importanza: e questo non era forse importante? Noi siamo abituati a vedere il tempo all'interno del tempo stesso, ma quando si trova al di fuori? Con la vita succede lo stesso: in genere viene vista all'interno del quadro generale della vita stessa; sembra la cosa più normale, l'unica ammissibile. Ma c'erano altre possibilità, e una di queste era la festa, la vita fuori della vita”.

[Nate D · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fluidly mundane and metaphysical, a family drifts through a half-finished luxury highrise as the turn of the new year impends. Class and cultural division, aboriginal dreamtime, the semiotics of settlement layout, atypical ghost stories, deadly ennui -- lot of ground covered in a compact 140 pages.

[Lee Klein · Rating 4 out of 5]

A patient, dense, even-handed/sane, attentive, purposefully naturalistic short novel populated by what seems like many undercharacterized characters milling about and talking in paragraphless dialogue as naked manly ghosts hover around and sometimes piss in arcs that produce rainbows with a metallic sheen. Excellent active ending: like a methodical, casually eddying river that suddenly accelerates toward its catarata. Aira really shifts from static dense atmospherics to electrified sprints. A tricky, shifty writer who throws changeups -- that is, intentionally slows things down, manifests some serious density, so a faster sentence jumps out that much quicker in comparison: "He was letting his thoughts show in that gentle, docile way because sleepiness was overcoming him irresistibly. And both aspects of his excuse were reasonable, in a way. The mood of summery exhibitionism prevailing on the site, accentuated perhaps by the imperfect, deceptive repetition from one floor to the next, didn't shock Patri (even she wasn't that naive) so much as intrigue her. She's seen the gang of ghosts shaking their sturdy members and aiming the jets of urine at the sky, showering it over the first-floor patio (their favorite place for this sport) until rainbows with a metallic sheen appeared in the siesta's white glare. The day the big satellite dish was installed on the terrace, they spent hours doing it, perched on the edge." Political suggstions re: Chile/Argentina I didn't quite register enough to associate the ghosts or the building etc. But I liked how this sort of South American "magical realism" is concrete instead of verdant relentless fornicating flora and fauna, hyperbolically flowing prose saturated with the streaking plummage of a quetzal in flight -- in this, the tone is stable gray, the surfaces of the luxury apartment building are concrete, the ghosts are covered in a sort of concrete powder/dust and pretty much keep their distance. You can tell this book by its cover.

[Kamilė | Bukinistė · Rating 5 out of 5]

César Aira serviruoja puikius, netikėtus ir įvairius literatūrinius shotus, perskaičius antrą tokį - atrodo gana aišku, jog autorios istorijos margos ir nei kiek nemonotoniškos. Tiesa antrasis kūrinys išleistas lietuviškai man kaip tai „nuslydo“ daug geriau, nors ir Vienas Keliaujančio Menininko Gyvenimo Nutikimas abejingos nepaliko.

Aš galvoju, jog skaityti vaiduoklius pasirinkau labai tinkamu metu, lauke svilino eilinė lietuviška +35 vasaros temperatūra, ir viskas tirpo ir lydėsi tikrai taip pat kaip veikėjų eilinėje argentinietiškoje +35 laipsnių dienoje. Tai nežinau ar ta fiziškai juntama atmosfera, ar visgi greičiau C. Airos kuriamas kinematografiškas tekstas leido labai ryškiai ir tirštai matyti, regėti, kas vyskta toje knygoje. Tai nors trukau perskaityti lygiai vieną dieną, vaizdas įsirėžė stirpiau nei kai kurios 600 puslapinės knygos, kurias skaitai savaitėmis.

Knyga trumpa, bet negaliu sakyti - jog koncentruota, šiaip čia visko nuo buiteko iki įdomių veikėjų filosofijų, nukrypimų kažkur toli ir į šoną, kuriuos vėl netikėtai pertraukia kita, atrodo visai nereikšminga scena. Na viskas kaip ta naujametinė mišrainė (čia ne šiaip aš - veiksmas vyskta Naujųjų Metų išvakarėse).
Pabaiga gan nuspėjama, bet kažkaip tas visai netrukdė, gal todėl, kad visas tekstas yra tirštas ir sodrus, knygai nereikėjo plotwisto, nereikėjo netikėtumo pabaigoje, nes ji ir taip visa netikėta.

Žodžiu, mažas ir gardus, sakyčiau delikatesinis kąsnelis, kai šiaip labai skanu, tik reikia perlipti psichologinį barjerą ir nepatogumą (lyg valgant sraiges?)

[Hannah · Rating 3 out of 5]

So many ghost penises...

I think they were supposed to have Literary Significance, but that was an awful lot of them to describe in frequent detail in such a short novella.

I mean, I get the implied symbolism there regarding unwanted attention/prostitution/rape of the character and/or the poor, but it was distracting.

I guess the book stuck with me if I came back to edit this review though. (I was looking for something else in my list and it popped into my head.)

[Murat Dural · Rating 4 out of 5]

Latin Amerika insanının anlattıkları nasıl her seferinde bu kadar güzel, akıcı, öz olabiliyor? Arjantinde bir inşaat alanı, orada yaşam süren Şilili bir aile, çalışan işçiler ve hayaletler. Latin Amerika edebiyatı seviyorsanız Cesar Aire ve "Hayaletler"i kaçırın. Kısa zamanda okuyup leziz tatlar alabileceğiniz bir kitap. Yazarın diğer eserlerine yöneleceğim.

[Virga · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nebaigtas statyti pastatas, jame gyvena sargo šeima su daugybe vaikų, net nesuprasi, kiek ten jų, dar atvažiuoja giminaičiai švęsti naujų metų, žmonių pilna, malasi, zuja, plepa bile ką. Tame nepastatytame name, namo griaučiuose be langų ir be vidinių sienų. Kai kurie personažai - mama, arba dukra, arba pusbrolis, tyliai sau mąsto (skaitytojas tą skaito) ir nusimąsto iki kokių nors visai įdomių posūkių, tada tą mąstymą nutraukia koks nors buitinis darbas arba koks giminė. Ir dar ten (nebenuostabu) kažkokie numirėlių vaiduokliai malasi tarpuose. Tai tas labiausiai patiko - visas tas difuziškumas ir tirštumas, ir, tuo pačiu, paprastumas (visi buitiniai dalykai atpažįstami, tokie būdingi neperaukščiausiai klasei, ir niekas nesureikšminama). Kad nenusibostų, prieš galą jau tarsi prasideda kažkas panašaus į siužetą ir intrigą, bet - ji taip ir nepasidaro svarbesnė už visa kita.

Viskas ten labai gerai, ir ta betvarkė, ir karštis, ir kiek nori (jeigu tik nori, nes niekas neperša) simbolinių plotmių, ir nuvažiavimų į visai įdomius atradimus, ir nepasakytos psichologijos, kurią reikia pačiai išsiplėtoti (irgi, jeigu tik norisi), ir tt. Viskas labai intensyvu, viskas labai daugiaprasmiška, ir be to, labai lengvai smagiai perskaitoma.

[jess · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is New Years Eve and a Chilean family is preparing to celebrate with family and friends. The book is set almost entirely in an unfinished luxury high rise in Argentina, where the Vinas family stays during a short-term job assignment (security detail for the building). The condo is also haunted by a collection of nude male ghosts. The oldest daughter, Patri, is invited to a party that will cost her her life. Can her mother's love save her? Does she need to be saved? The story is creepy, even a little unsettling. The relationships and characters are authentic in the way that magical realist characters can be, a sincere earnest way just beyond your peripheral vision. A thoughtful experiment in magical realism, GHOSTS meanders through some philosophical ruminations, and the reader slogs along. Aira muses over great ideas - life, love, boredom, etc. The reader is repaid for their patience, however, with culminating weirdness at the end. This book is really short, but if you are the type to absorb vague philosophies from fiction & get lost in daydream, you might find it takes a surprisingly long time to get through the 138 pages.

[S̶e̶a̶n̶ · Rating 4 out of 5]

The dusk was provisional, indifferent, subtle; its compartments of light were home to no one, for the moment, but anyone could see their image cut out of a photograph and stuck to the beautiful heavenly roof.

It made a lot of sense when I read of Aira's 'constant flight forward' in his writing. I find the resulting effect of his form of composition to be alternately distracting and mesmerizing. The aimlessness, the digressions, they can either overwhelm or carry along. It depends on whether I've successfully made it into Aira's hypnotic, dreamlike space. There was at least one section here where I had to put the book down because I knew I wasn't there and, particularly considering the book's brevity, it seemed wrong to continue. There is a melancholic heaviness about this one; perhaps it's the oppressive Buenos Aires sun beating down upon the little unfinished apartment perched atop that towering unfinished building. Or perhaps it is the presence of Patri herself, and the ghosts that surround her.

[jeremy · Rating 3 out of 5]

césar aira, the argentine novelist, has authored over two dozen novels, yet this is only the third to be translated into english (an episode in the life of a landscape painter & how i became a nun being the others). ghosts initially piqued my interest after i noticed it was a forthcoming release from one of the world's finest publishers, and then because i learned that the late roberto bolaño was an admirer of his work. stylistically i found aira's writing satisfying and his plot intriguing, yet was left with the sense that it did not coalesce into a complete effort. and while i will surely look for his other books, ghosts was not the dazzling introduction i had been hoping for (despite reading of his wide acclaim).

[Greta · Rating 1 out of 5]

Oh how very mediocre...

Geriausia knygos dalis buvo tie dešimt puslapių filosofavimo apie architektūrines struktūras, visa kita taip nyku ir nuobodu, kad viskam pasibaigus istorija nepalieka visai jokio įspūdžio.

Dar truputį apie vertimą. Nežinau ar dėl to, kad jau velniškai seniai neskaičiau lietuviškų vertimų, bet vietomis jautėsi, kad buvo pernelyg persistengta su žodžių parinkimu ten, kur to visiškai nereikia. Negi Aira iš tikrųjų naudojo žodžius mašinaliai, suvokinys, pribus (=ateis, atvyks)? Tiesa, apie "pribuvimą" VLKK sako, kad šis veiksmažodis nevartotinas reikšme "ateiti". Tai tiek.

[Aslıhan Çelik Tufan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Latin Amerika edebiyatının en örneklerinden Cesar Aira'nın dilimizdeki son şahanesiyle selam.

Daha önce Nasıl Rahibe Oldum kitabını okuyup, hayran kalmıştım. Vitrindekilerde görünce koşup aldım, bir anda bitti ama nasıl bir şölen!

Sınıf çatışmasından, Şili-Arjantin çekişmesine, ölüm ile yaşamdan kadın-erkek ilişkilere kadar geniş bir yelpazede akan gerçeküstü ögelerle bezeli bir 125 sayfa düşünün, hayran kalınır.

Latin Amerika edebiyatı severim derseniz hemmen okuyun, hiç bir fikrim yok diyorsanız yine hemmen okuyun müptela olacaksınız.

Keyifli okumalar 🌼

#readingismycardio #aslihanneokudu #okudumbitti #2021okumalarım #okuryorumu #kitaptavsiyesi #neokudum #latinamerikaedebiyatı #hayaletler #canyayınları #cesaraira #çevirikitaplar #yazarlarkitaplar #dünyaedebiyatı #emrahimre

[Katinas Čiobrelis | knygos, kelionės ir kiti įdomūs dalykai · Rating 4 out of 5]

www.instagram.com/miciausknygos
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#144
Savotiškai įdomi knyga, kurioje pilna svarstymų ir diskusijų apie literatūrą, architektūrą. Kažkuo panaši į ankstesnę knygą, apie keliaujantį dailininką. Gausu gotikinių motyvų, kurie supinasi su realybe, kurioje veiksmas vyksta Buenos Airėse naujųjų metų dieną.
Knyga plonytė tai nesinori atskleisti visų detalių, bet rekomenduoju tiems kas mėgsta lengvas knygas su mąstymo priemaiša.

[JennyB · Rating 1 out of 5]

Apparently, according to Roberto Bolano, "Once you have started reading Aira, you don't want to stop."

I disagree, and I do not do so respectfully. Not only did I urgently want "Ghosts" to be over, in fact I wish I had never read it.

This book sucks because Aira's writing sucks (unless you are especially obsessed with dicks, as Aira is, in which case you will find plenty of interest here). It is a book, essentially, about nothing so much as ghost penises, and how Chileans are different from Argentines. And those are the good parts.

The not good parts? How about the 10 pages when a barely-teenaged girl dreams about architectural symbolism as manifested by hut orientation of African tribes such as the Zulu and Mbutu? No, I am not making that up, although I wish I were. Obviously, Aira has never met a teenage girl, or he'd be pretty clear that this isn't exactly what they dream about.

There's also how he doesn't really like women much. The greatest compliment they receive from Aira is when he describes two of the characters as "not completely stupid." High praise, that. Most of the time, however, Aira hammers on about how women are utterly "frivolous," caught up in their brainless pursuits like watching soap operas, cooking and tending children, and gossiping about the need for a "real man," and pregnancy. So important is it to have a "real man" that Elisa doesn't even mind living in poverty, in a temporary and unfinished rooftop shack, married to a pathetic alcoholic. Why? Because Raul is a "real man," of course. And according to Aira, the value of all men -- useless alcoholics and naked ghosts included -- is "obviously considerable."

If you get the impression that this bullshit makes me want to punch someone in the head (preferably Aira), it does. But only slightly less than the fact that whole book is about a teenage girl (spoiler alert) being willing to kill herself because her sexual desires have been awakened by a bunch of naked ghosts, and she can only consummate these desires if she's dead... Oh. Awesome.

I had hoped to find that modern males writing in Spanish would have moved slightly beyond the chauvinistic dick-love trope that was so prevalent at mid-century. To judge by Aira, they haven't. So much the worse for South American letters, not to mention South American women.

[lethe · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book was weird. Halfway through, the story (about a Chilean caretaker and his family living on the top floor of a Buenos Aires apartment building that is still under construction) is interrupted by a pages-long philosophical treatise on architecture, the built, the unbuilt, Aboriginals, and their dreamtime. I found it quite hard to follow, and the fact that it was introduced with a few grammatically incorrect (or maybe just clumsily translated) sentences didn't help at all.

There are some more philosophical musings, on space/time among other things, and ruminations on the differences between Chileans and Argentinians. It all felt very disjointed.

We do not learn much about the ghosts, except that they are male, naked, covered in construction dust (which makes them visible to some people), and prone to raucous laughter. They also come in handy when bottles of wine need to be chilled.

The ending of the book came as no surprise to me. All in all it was a bit of a disappointment.

[Trevor · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was my first Aira (I am now a devoted fan). Knowing how prolific Aira was caused me to approach his work with skepticism. How can someone put out so many books and maintain high quality?

I’m not sure, but I think his speed at writing is a strength, lending this novel a swift looseness and experimental quality I haven’t seen much before. In a way, it shows that Aira respects his reader. He’s having an intellectual conversation, and he trusts his readers to come along and see where it takes us. Indeed, his writing process is one of almost experimental freewriting. He has said he sits down at a cafe and writes a page. When he is done, he leaves. Apparently, the next day, rather than editing what he has written, he forges ahead, finding some way to move the story out of any corners he’s backed himself into. That said, this novel looks as polished as anything else out there, and the themes carry from the first page to the last in a march forward that makes it seem planned from the get-go.

This short book (139 pages) takes place in one day, December 31, on the construction site of a luxury condominium. In the morning the new tenants visit to see how construction is going; the condo was supposed to be finished that day. We are then fortunate enough to read a nice run down of the rest of the day, as the family who has lived on top of the condominium during its construction (the husband is in charge of security) prepares for the New Year’s Eve party. In its own way, the book resembles Mrs. Dalloway, moving steadily through the day, moving in and out of the head of one of the characters.

At the beginning of the book, we don’t know what character is going to be central because Aira introduces several candidates. As we move around in these minds, every once in a while Aira throws in a description of the ghosts who live on the site, seen only by some of the individuals. These descriptions are placed in the text as if the presence of the ghosts are ordinary:

"So Raúl Viñas was keeping fourteen bottles of red wine cool, with a system he had invented, or rather discovered, himself. It consisted of resolutely approaching a ghost and inserting a bottle into his thorax, where it remained, supernaturally balanced. When he went back for it, say two hours later, it was cold. There were two things he hadn’t noticed, however. The first was that, during the cooling process, the wine came out of bottles and flowed like lymph all through the bodies of the ghosts. The second was that this distillation transmuted ordinary cheap wine, fermented in cement vats, into an exquisite, matured cabernet sauvignon, which not even captains of industry could afford to drink every day."

Soon the book’s narration settles on Patri, the fifteen-year-old daughter of the squatters. She is the character who confronts the ghosts the most, and she is the mind in which Aira explores most of the book’s themes. The ghost, in a way, can represent a sort of liminal space, occupying the boundary between life and death. However, here the liminal space is the boundary between what is real and unreal, or, as Aira puts it once, what is built and unbuilt.

"But there is always a difference between dreams and reality, which becomes clearer as the superficial contrast diminishes. The difference in this case was reflected in the architecture, which is, in itself, a reciprocal mirroring of what has already been built and what will be built eventually. The all-important bridge between the two reflections was provided by a third term: the unbuilt."

In a great segment, during the siesta, Patri’s mind chases the space between architecture and literature, some related concepts between the Pygmies and Australian Aborigines. It’s a great intellectual game. But the game is not all this book has. Patri’s interest in the ghosts worries her mother.

"The only thing that bothered her was the bad influence the ghosts might have on her children, particularly on her frivolous elder daughter. Since Patri was given to building castles in the air, certain chimerical spectacles could lead her to the the utterly misguided belief that reality is everywhere."

And Patri’s mother should be worried. Aira keeps us interested in the intellectual puzzles and Patri’s wellbeing all the way to the end, when the fireworks mark the new year.

[J · Rating 5 out of 5]

Aira's ability to sketch out the entire domestic life of a bunch of migrant workers living in an unfinished apartment complex as a masterful act of compression. He moves with charm, wit and deprecation between these people, balancing between the typical idyls of family life, grocery shopping, marriages, celebrations, children playing games, and balances it out with his usual wondrous, metaphysical musings on literally anything and everything: architecture, space, anthropology, rejection, death to name a few. The dark undertones in his other work feel a bit more pronounced here. This is a book about poor people living and working in someone else's country. They are ghosts of an altogether different, but no less real nature than the titular ghosts who float between the floors.

[Asta · Rating 2 out of 5]

2,5*
Po "dailininko" iš Cesar Aira tikėjausi daugiau.
"Vaiduokliai" pasirodė visiškai vidutiniškas, niekuo neišsiskiriantis pasakojimas.
Trumputė, kaip ir "dailininkas". Pirmuosiuose 100 puslapių net ir tie vaiduokliai atrodė "ne į temą". Paskutiniuose puslapiuose mezgama intriga, bet man buvo absoliučiai vis vien, kaip istorija baigsis.

Yra esė tipo epizodų apie architektūrą, klajoklių genčių gyvenvietes. Tie puslapiai buvo įdomūs, bet nelabai "klijavosi" į bendrą pasakojimo giją.

Žodžiu, "dailininkas" patiko, "Vaiduokliai" - ne.
Nesu tikra, ar duočiau Cesar Aira trečią šansą.

[Miglė · Rating 3 out of 5]

Viskas gerai padaryta, tvarkingai, bet kažkaip ta knyga ėjo ir praėjo, palikdama tokį neutralų įspūdį.
Pabaigus norėjosi sakyti: "Viskas ten ok!", bet ir tiek, gal tiesiog ne visai man.

[Kuyinbii · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aira'nın kalemini çok sevdim ama kitap çok kısa olduğu için hikayede bir arada kalmışlık mevcut. Daha uzun olsaydı da doya doya okusaydık keşke.

[Guillermo · Rating 4 out of 5]

En mi opinión hay una curva o recta que se dibuja así: en la abscisa el tiempo, en la ordenada el agrado que produce, y desde 1981 (con Ema la cautiva) cada punto que avanza en el tiempo se ubica más cerca del cero en el eje vertical. Perdón por lo nerd, digamos que la carrera de Aira es descendente.
Este libro es de 1988, así que está dentro de los primeros, y es muy bueno.
Se trata de la vida de los albañiles y serenos de un edificio en construcción en el cual habitan también unos fantasmas desnudos y entalcados que ríen mucho y hablan poco.
Además de lo que siempre propone Aira hay algo pocas veces visto: un destino humano, el de la Patri, no queda indefinido ni mucho menos. Se resuelve en un acto de dramatismo y ese destino humano toca al lector. No es característico de Aira pero lo hizo muy bien. Pobre Patri.

[Mayk Can Şişman · Rating 2 out of 5]

Cesar Aira ile yıldızım barışmıyor. ‘Nasıl Rahibe Oldum’ dışındaki hiçbir kitabını sevemedim. ‘Hayaletler’ güzel bir konuya sahip olmasına rağmen savrukluğuyla bende hayal kırıklığı yarattı.

[Oscreads · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is wild. This was my first Aira and I wasn’t disappointed at all. I need more.

[Jimmy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Everything belonged to the children. The expansion produced by the measurements and the feeling of contraction that goes with fear were overlaid by the world of childhood. The real universe is measured in millimeters, and it is gigantic. p. 4

Plot: A Chilean family lives temporarily on the roof of a half-built (and otherwise uninhabited) condominium building. The story takes place during the course of a day: New Years Eve. The family gathers for a siesta to celebrate. Meanwhile there are ghosts, fat and naked and covered in a fine uniform white dust, that float about in the formation of the hands of a clock, or just hanging out by the dumpster; sometimes they laugh vigorously. They tempt one of the older daughters to join them in their party, the one the ghosts are holding at midnight. But she would, of course, have to be dead first.

Review: The high-points in the book are considerably great, although over-all, I'd say this is second-rate Aira. You should read An Episode in the Life of a Landscape Painter first, as that one is filled with greatness, and How I Became a Nun next as that one is also very good. Here, I felt like the blending is not working as well for him. The philosophy sticks out too much as Philosophy (with a capital P) rather than just part of the fabric of the whole book. (I love his philosophizing in his other books, because they were just one or two lines tossed out, almost as an aside, very illuminating yet kind of light and joyful). The surreal/ridiculous parts (i.e. ghosts and such) also seem to stick out instead of working together with the mundane. Overall, I felt a little bored through some sections, whereas in other Aira books I felt constantly (and pleasantly) surprised.

Also, NDP needs to do better copy editing. I found at least 10 minor spelling or grammatical errors in this short book. Although, to be fair, they did a GREAT job with the book and cover design.

Each of them seized a car; although the cars were identical, there was an obvious advantage in being able to choose while the other two children were asleep. What a surprise they would get, poor suckers, when they found they could only choose between the two remaining toy cars, which were indistinguishable from the others! p.79