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Ieri
Nella città di San Agustín de Tango si succedono eventi di natura eccezionale: nel corso di una sola giornata un uomo viene ghigliottinato nella pubblica piazza per aver predicato i godimenti intellettuali dell’amore mentre nello zoo della città uno struzzo divora una leonessa, con imprevedibili conseguenze. Ma non è tutto: il protagonista stesso della storia, spettatore di questi singolari eventi, scivola in una fenditura del tempo in circostanze del tutto impensate per fare ritorno nella storia, forse, con la chiave dei molti enigmi e delle meravigliose assurdità che compongono la sostanza stessa della realtà. Amato da una stretta cerchia di lettori e scrittori illustri, "Ieri" prorompe oggi sulla pagina con la stessa intensità con cui sconvolse i circoli surrealisti del tempo, in un vortice di illuminata assurdità ed euforici piaceri – esaltando a ogni virgola la profonda serietà del gioco al servizio della più inafferrabile delle verità.
144 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1935
45 people are currently reading
1336 people want to read
About the author
Juan Emar
29 books42 followersEscritor, crítico de arte y pintor chileno, máximo exponente local de la vanguardia literaria de las décadas de 1920 y 1930 en el género narrativo, e integrante del colectivo de artistas plásticos Grupo Montparnasse
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June 19, 2022
W życiu nie czytałem chyba niczego równie popierdolonego, ale tak sprawnie napisanego.
May 8, 2021
The clouds — which some hours earlier had opened up a sliver and brought a song from the cynocephali, my wife and me; which had then closed to make us fall silent; which had grown transparent to shine a bright though tempered light onto the ferocious brawl; and which had finally withdrawn during lunch to help us devour our courses to the music of golden rays — had now grown heavy and dark again, and distilled into a confused fog that made of San Agustin de Tango an inhospitable metropolis, sticky and blue.
Yesterday is translated by Megan McDowell from Juan Emar’s Ayer.
McDowell has translated Alejandro Zambra, Samanta Schweblin, Mariana Enríquez, Paulina Flores, Carlos Fonseca and Daniel Mella, amongst others, and this is the 11th of her translations I’ve read, and has been longlisted 4 times in the 6 years of the International Booker Prize.
Juan Emar was the pen name of Álvaro Yáñez Bianchi (1893-1964), from the French “J'en ai marre” (I’m fed up). Ayer was one of three novels he published around 1935, which at the time received little critical or popular attention. And this isn’t the classic penniless obscure artist story, the author’s father (https://es.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eliod...) founded a national newspaper and was a diplomat and prominent politician in Chile.
Rather, as the novelist Alejandro Zambra argues in his introduction to this translation, the surreal nature of his work, influenced by the European avant-garde movement, ran counter to the conservative milieu of the time in Chile, and, in addition, Emar was more interesting in writing than being seen as a writer and no friend of the critics.
Following these novels, and an equally unsuccessful story collection, Emar withdrew from publishing works and instead spent the rest of his life writing a 4,000-page magnum opus, eventually published posthumously.
His work instead gained attention in the 1970s, being championed by Neruda amongst others, although as Zambra argues “even today it’s almost absurd to present Ayer as a forgotten writer, since he has never been, so to speak, sufficiently remembered.”
The publisher is Peirene Press, for whom a South American writer, albeit one writing in a very European-influenced style, is a departure:
Yesterday is set over the course of one day, as the title suggests the one before today, in the Small fictional city of San Agustin de Tango (Zambra points out the name contains that of a real, and larger city, San Agustin de Tango).
The first-person narrator, Juan, and his wife walk around the city, where they encounter a variety of surreal scenes - the partial decapitation of a man convicted of lascivious thoughts (on the Matthew 5:27-30 principle), a zoo where he and his wife first join in a chorus with cynocephali then an ostrich swallows and defecates an escaped lion, Juan dreams of a bungee jump (some decades before they came into being!) and tries to shoot down a fly in a urinal.
This from an visit to an artist friend who paints only in green:
Ruben de Loa’s paintings contained every possible green. Those of all the hours of the day and of the night; those of all the years of history. They contained all the greens the Earth has left behind in her advance, all those that are with her now, all that will come to cinch themselves to her in her future turning. Those of the four elements. Those of ether. Those of the gestation of life in an ovum, those of birth and growth, those of plenitude, those that are created by eating away at the air inside of coffins. The green of silence, the green of murmurings, the green of pandemonium. The green of God. The green of Satan. All, all of them! Why go on? In their simple enumeration I would fill ten volumes and then, if I wanted to enumerate the relation of every green enumeration with every other one, a hundred volumes would not be enough. Moreover, is not the word “all” sufficient? Let us fix that word firmly in our heads: all. All the greens. It is enough to say it like this. However, I don’t know why, something like compunction drives me to continue with green examples, as if, by not continuing, it would be a lack of honor for my friend’s magnificent green talent. Yes, but, where would I start the first line of the first page of the first volume? Let it suffice for me to say that in that place was my own green, which up until then I had not known existed. There was my wife’s green. And the green of our friend. And the green of the relationship between my wife and I. And that of the relationship between my wife and him. And of him and I. And that of the three of us at that point since, if we move, it is another green (which could also be found in the paintings), the green of that exact place and time, and, just as no clock ever stops, the greens of Ruben de Loa’s paintings, etc., a thousand times etc. My God! Isn’t the one word enough: ALL?
(see a longer extract at https://www.wordswithoutborders.org/a...)
Above it all Juan is, urged by his wife, trying do draw a “conclusion” from what they have seen and witnessed, and the novel gets quite philosophical at times, including when he attempts for around 12 pages to analyse the essence of a pot-bellied man, starting with a ball of fluff in his pockets. He debates the two ways to analyse something, using the reading of a book as an analogy (and perhaps this conceals another swipe at the critics):
Observe, my God, observe! Let us go in order. A little and serenity. To be sure, I know two methods by which to observe, to become familiar with another being. They are the same ones that can be used with an object, an a book or anything else. Let us say a book; it's easiest for me. First method: I open it to the first page, I read the entire thing in order and I don't stop until I come to the words 'The End'.
Second method: I buy it, bring it home, look at it from above, from below, from in front, from behind. I put it on my shelf. I take it out at night and flip through it. I leave it on the table. I tell a friend about the existence of the book in my house. I tell two, three friends about it. We read a random sentence on a random page. Another says to me, reaching out his hand: 'Let me see, let me see.' He pages through it with his brow furrowed and I scrutinize his expression. This goes on for several days, weeks. No one reads it, but we live inside its atmosphere. After a month, each of us gives a lecture on the book and its author. This is the second method.
A striking read. 4 stars
Yesterday is translated by Megan McDowell from Juan Emar’s Ayer.
McDowell has translated Alejandro Zambra, Samanta Schweblin, Mariana Enríquez, Paulina Flores, Carlos Fonseca and Daniel Mella, amongst others, and this is the 11th of her translations I’ve read, and has been longlisted 4 times in the 6 years of the International Booker Prize.
Juan Emar was the pen name of Álvaro Yáñez Bianchi (1893-1964), from the French “J'en ai marre” (I’m fed up). Ayer was one of three novels he published around 1935, which at the time received little critical or popular attention. And this isn’t the classic penniless obscure artist story, the author’s father (https://es.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eliod...) founded a national newspaper and was a diplomat and prominent politician in Chile.
Rather, as the novelist Alejandro Zambra argues in his introduction to this translation, the surreal nature of his work, influenced by the European avant-garde movement, ran counter to the conservative milieu of the time in Chile, and, in addition, Emar was more interesting in writing than being seen as a writer and no friend of the critics.
Following these novels, and an equally unsuccessful story collection, Emar withdrew from publishing works and instead spent the rest of his life writing a 4,000-page magnum opus, eventually published posthumously.
His work instead gained attention in the 1970s, being championed by Neruda amongst others, although as Zambra argues “even today it’s almost absurd to present Ayer as a forgotten writer, since he has never been, so to speak, sufficiently remembered.”
The publisher is Peirene Press, for whom a South American writer, albeit one writing in a very European-influenced style, is a departure:
Peirene Press is an award-winning boutique publishing house, specialising in contemporary European novellas and short novels in English translation. We only publish books of less than 200 pages that can be read in the same time it takes to watch a film. We pride ourselves on publishing truly big stories in small packages. We seek out the best of European fiction, producing high-quality first-translations of European best sellers. We work with international agents and publishers to bring our readers truly original books, exposing them to new authors and unfamiliar worlds. Our books are beautifully designed paperback editions, using only the best paper from sustainable British sources. They are affordable, timeless collector items.
Yesterday is set over the course of one day, as the title suggests the one before today, in the Small fictional city of San Agustin de Tango (Zambra points out the name contains that of a real, and larger city, San Agustin de Tango).
The first-person narrator, Juan, and his wife walk around the city, where they encounter a variety of surreal scenes - the partial decapitation of a man convicted of lascivious thoughts (on the Matthew 5:27-30 principle), a zoo where he and his wife first join in a chorus with cynocephali then an ostrich swallows and defecates an escaped lion, Juan dreams of a bungee jump (some decades before they came into being!) and tries to shoot down a fly in a urinal.
This from an visit to an artist friend who paints only in green:
Ruben de Loa’s paintings contained every possible green. Those of all the hours of the day and of the night; those of all the years of history. They contained all the greens the Earth has left behind in her advance, all those that are with her now, all that will come to cinch themselves to her in her future turning. Those of the four elements. Those of ether. Those of the gestation of life in an ovum, those of birth and growth, those of plenitude, those that are created by eating away at the air inside of coffins. The green of silence, the green of murmurings, the green of pandemonium. The green of God. The green of Satan. All, all of them! Why go on? In their simple enumeration I would fill ten volumes and then, if I wanted to enumerate the relation of every green enumeration with every other one, a hundred volumes would not be enough. Moreover, is not the word “all” sufficient? Let us fix that word firmly in our heads: all. All the greens. It is enough to say it like this. However, I don’t know why, something like compunction drives me to continue with green examples, as if, by not continuing, it would be a lack of honor for my friend’s magnificent green talent. Yes, but, where would I start the first line of the first page of the first volume? Let it suffice for me to say that in that place was my own green, which up until then I had not known existed. There was my wife’s green. And the green of our friend. And the green of the relationship between my wife and I. And that of the relationship between my wife and him. And of him and I. And that of the three of us at that point since, if we move, it is another green (which could also be found in the paintings), the green of that exact place and time, and, just as no clock ever stops, the greens of Ruben de Loa’s paintings, etc., a thousand times etc. My God! Isn’t the one word enough: ALL?
(see a longer extract at https://www.wordswithoutborders.org/a...)
Above it all Juan is, urged by his wife, trying do draw a “conclusion” from what they have seen and witnessed, and the novel gets quite philosophical at times, including when he attempts for around 12 pages to analyse the essence of a pot-bellied man, starting with a ball of fluff in his pockets. He debates the two ways to analyse something, using the reading of a book as an analogy (and perhaps this conceals another swipe at the critics):
Observe, my God, observe! Let us go in order. A little and serenity. To be sure, I know two methods by which to observe, to become familiar with another being. They are the same ones that can be used with an object, an a book or anything else. Let us say a book; it's easiest for me. First method: I open it to the first page, I read the entire thing in order and I don't stop until I come to the words 'The End'.
Second method: I buy it, bring it home, look at it from above, from below, from in front, from behind. I put it on my shelf. I take it out at night and flip through it. I leave it on the table. I tell a friend about the existence of the book in my house. I tell two, three friends about it. We read a random sentence on a random page. Another says to me, reaching out his hand: 'Let me see, let me see.' He pages through it with his brow furrowed and I scrutinize his expression. This goes on for several days, weeks. No one reads it, but we live inside its atmosphere. After a month, each of us gives a lecture on the book and its author. This is the second method.
A striking read. 4 stars
September 14, 2023
Ja na początku: „Ooo odklejone historie, me like it”
Ja na końcu: „Czy jest jakiś limit tego pi3rd0leni@„
ale o dziwo nie w negatywnym sensie xD
Ja na końcu: „Czy jest jakiś limit tego pi3rd0leni@„
ale o dziwo nie w negatywnym sensie xD
October 31, 2022
To była z pewnością najdziwniejsza, najbardziej popieprzona rzecz, jaką czytałam kiedykolwiek. Nawet Henri Michaux przy tym wysiada. Momentami jednak miałam wrażenie, że o ile u Francuza surrealistyczne obrazy czemuś służą, to u Emara to jednak była sztuka dla sztuki i popisy dla popisów. Nie mniej jednak, nawet i dla tych popisów warto "Wczoraj" czytać, bowiem są one wykonywane z niesamowitą zręcznością i gracją. Gość miał nieokiełznaną wyobraźnię i pióro.
January 15, 2025
Juče je sutra. Jedno zbilja neobično sutra koje devet decenija od objavljivanja nestašno zbunjuje, na plećima velikog veka nadrealizma, obeleženog i kod nas pogodno i prigodno. I mada treba imati u vidu da se ovaj roman prvenstveno može sagledavati u tom kontekstu, njegov duh najbolje ilustruju dva Emarova poetička potomka, dva Alehandra: Hodorovski i Sambra, od kojih je drugi napisao i fin predgovor ovom izdanju. Njima valja priključiti još dva čuvena Čileanca: Nikanora Paru i Roberta Bolanja i koordinate će postati više nego jasne. A koga zanima kako noj može da proguta lava, koje je mesto debeljuca u istoriji književnosti, zašto je giljotina zanimljiva i kakve to sve nijanse zelene boje postoje, neka baci da šansu ovoj podsticajno zbunjujućoj knjizi, koju je Branko Anđić odlično preveo.
September 14, 2022
To nie jest coś co łatwo opowiedzieć. Taka seria etiud połączonych interesującą klamrą. Jeżeli ktoś lubi komiksy Granta Morissona, zwłaszcza Doom Patrol to świetnie siądzie. Polecam bo mi się bardzo podobało i jest króciutkie.
October 17, 2023
Ten wpis zacznę tak: czytałam ostatnio strasznie dziwną książkę.
O czym była chyba nie chcę mówić, bo po pierwsze nikt by mi nie uwierzył, a po drugie zepsułabym wszystkim całą przyjemność czytelniczej dezorientacji, łapania się za głowę i błądzenia po omacku. Najważniejsze jest, że pośród tego całego chaosu, pawianów, pępków i burgundowych galaret z odnóżami odnalazłam kilka fragmentów niezwykle błyskotliwych, które, choć ta proza żyje już prawie sto lat, wciąż mówią coś świeżego o życiu i rzeczywistości.
„… i pogrąża mnie w tym samym stuporze, w jakim pogrążyłem się pewnego wolnego popołudnia, gdy spojrzałem i uświadomiłem sobie, że patrzę na przytwierdzony, nieruchomy i samotny włącznik elektryczny na ścianie. I kiedy chciałem upewnić się o jego istnieniu, włącznik oddzielił się od świata i przez krótką chwilę nie rozumiałem nic ani z tego życia, ani z innego”
„Wczoraj” Juana Emara polecam czytać z otwartą głową i nad kubkiem naparu z lipy. Spodoba się wszystkim emisariuszom absurdu, dziwności i artystycznych swobód.
O czym była chyba nie chcę mówić, bo po pierwsze nikt by mi nie uwierzył, a po drugie zepsułabym wszystkim całą przyjemność czytelniczej dezorientacji, łapania się za głowę i błądzenia po omacku. Najważniejsze jest, że pośród tego całego chaosu, pawianów, pępków i burgundowych galaret z odnóżami odnalazłam kilka fragmentów niezwykle błyskotliwych, które, choć ta proza żyje już prawie sto lat, wciąż mówią coś świeżego o życiu i rzeczywistości.
„… i pogrąża mnie w tym samym stuporze, w jakim pogrążyłem się pewnego wolnego popołudnia, gdy spojrzałem i uświadomiłem sobie, że patrzę na przytwierdzony, nieruchomy i samotny włącznik elektryczny na ścianie. I kiedy chciałem upewnić się o jego istnieniu, włącznik oddzielił się od świata i przez krótką chwilę nie rozumiałem nic ani z tego życia, ani z innego”
„Wczoraj” Juana Emara polecam czytać z otwartą głową i nad kubkiem naparu z lipy. Spodoba się wszystkim emisariuszom absurdu, dziwności i artystycznych swobód.
October 21, 2025
“Gerçek ile düş arasındaki çizgi bazen bir günde silinir…”
Juan Emar’ın Dün romanını okurken kendimi hem kaybolmuş hem de büyülenmiş hissettim.
Bir gün içinde yaşanan sıradan olaylar, absürt sahneler ve beklenmedik karşılaşmalar…
Hayvanat bahçesi, bir idam sahnesi, rastgele karşılaşmalar… Hepsi bir araya gelip okurken hem şaşırttı hem de meraklandırdı.
Sürreal, deneysel ve unutulmaz bir okuma deneyimi.
Gerçekliği sorgulamayı seviyorsanız, bu roman tam size göre.
Juan Emar’ın Dün romanını okurken kendimi hem kaybolmuş hem de büyülenmiş hissettim.
Bir gün içinde yaşanan sıradan olaylar, absürt sahneler ve beklenmedik karşılaşmalar…
Hayvanat bahçesi, bir idam sahnesi, rastgele karşılaşmalar… Hepsi bir araya gelip okurken hem şaşırttı hem de meraklandırdı.
Sürreal, deneysel ve unutulmaz bir okuma deneyimi.
Gerçekliği sorgulamayı seviyorsanız, bu roman tam size göre.
June 3, 2025
Końcówce trochę odjechał peron i się zgubiłam, ale aż do tego momentu bardzo podobał mi się poziom zakręcenia tej książki. Zwłaszcza przy rozdziale pierwszym i trzecim bawiłam się przednio.
June 11, 2021
A Surrealistic Day
Review of the Peirene Press paperback edition (June, 2021) translated from the Spanish language original "Ayer" (1935) published by Editorial Zig Zag
Photograph of the map of San Agustin de Tango drawn by Gabriela Emar as the frontispiece in the original 1935 edition (downsized to 1 page in the Peirene edition). Image sourced from https://www.librosdelayer.cl/producto.... If you click through to the source, you can examine the map in finer detail.
Yesterday is a day in the life of the protagonist and his wife as they wander around their city of San Agustin de Tango (an almost homophone of Santiago in Chile). The encounters are increasingly bizarre and are interrupted by two meal breaks. Each event ends with the couple encouraging haste in moving on to the next step by trading calls of "Let's go! Let's go!" At the end of the day back at home the protagonist has an existential crisis where he needs to reprocess all the events with the aid of his wife before he can finally go to sleep and be at rest.
I read Yesterday as part of my annual subscription to Peirene Press. Yesterday is the first of Peirene's Metamorphoses series for 2021.
Trivia and Links
If you are reading this prior to June 22, 2021, you can still register and watch the free online book launch for Yesterday by Peirene Press. Translator Megan McDowell joins Chilean poet and novelist Alejandro Zambra – author of the introduction to Yesterday – in a conversation chaired by writer and lecturer in Latin American literature Carlos Fonseca. The event will also include readings in Spanish and English and an audience Q&A.
Translator Megan McDowell may have had this translation 'in the drawer' for quite some time, as an excerpt appeared as early as August 2010 in Words Without Borders. Thanks to Paul Fulcher's excellent review for that link!
Yesterday is told over the course of a 24-hour day, and is thus a so-called "circadian" novel. James Clammer, whose recent novel Insignificance (2021) also takes place during the course of one day, assembled a list of Top 10 Novels Told in a Single Day.
Review of the Peirene Press paperback edition (June, 2021) translated from the Spanish language original "Ayer" (1935) published by Editorial Zig Zag
Photograph of the map of San Agustin de Tango drawn by Gabriela Emar as the frontispiece in the original 1935 edition (downsized to 1 page in the Peirene edition). Image sourced from https://www.librosdelayer.cl/producto.... If you click through to the source, you can examine the map in finer detail.
Yesterday is a day in the life of the protagonist and his wife as they wander around their city of San Agustin de Tango (an almost homophone of Santiago in Chile). The encounters are increasingly bizarre and are interrupted by two meal breaks. Each event ends with the couple encouraging haste in moving on to the next step by trading calls of "Let's go! Let's go!" At the end of the day back at home the protagonist has an existential crisis where he needs to reprocess all the events with the aid of his wife before he can finally go to sleep and be at rest.
I had begun again at the beginning. I had begun with the guillotine, the guillotine which let to the zoo, which led to lunch which led to Ruben de Loa's studio, which led to the waiting room and the square, which led to dinner, which led to my family's house, which led to the tavern, which led to the pisser, which led to the hole and the fly that tore time in two and illuminated everything, which ... which, no doubt, will make me climb up towards the lime flower tea, doubtless, beacuse this was the truth of how things had happened.So how should one interpret all of this? I thought that I would investigate a possible symbolic approach. I was curious enough to research a bit about the history of Chile in the 1920s and 1930s when it went through the instability of 10 different governments in the space of only a few years (one of them lasting only 24 hours) before some relative democratic stability began from 1932 onwards (at least until the repressive Pinochet regime of 1973-1990). Perhaps each event or repast in the book is symbolic of those events in Chile's history? Or perhaps it is just about one couple's interpretation of it. In any case, I was thoroughly entertained and delighted with my first reading of Juan Emar.
I read Yesterday as part of my annual subscription to Peirene Press. Yesterday is the first of Peirene's Metamorphoses series for 2021.
Trivia and Links
If you are reading this prior to June 22, 2021, you can still register and watch the free online book launch for Yesterday by Peirene Press. Translator Megan McDowell joins Chilean poet and novelist Alejandro Zambra – author of the introduction to Yesterday – in a conversation chaired by writer and lecturer in Latin American literature Carlos Fonseca. The event will also include readings in Spanish and English and an audience Q&A.
Translator Megan McDowell may have had this translation 'in the drawer' for quite some time, as an excerpt appeared as early as August 2010 in Words Without Borders. Thanks to Paul Fulcher's excellent review for that link!
Yesterday is told over the course of a 24-hour day, and is thus a so-called "circadian" novel. James Clammer, whose recent novel Insignificance (2021) also takes place during the course of one day, assembled a list of Top 10 Novels Told in a Single Day.
June 9, 2021
"When time went on passing, made real for me by the existence of two invisible hands, when I escaped from it with a suspended hesitation occasioned by the sudden pres ence of a fly, when that happened, there shone a momentary spark containing the phenomenon that, until then, I had imagined but never seen."
The tradition of a-day-in-the-life novels is not new and some notable examples are Ulysses and Mrs Dalloway. A current read, Guapa, is also an example. They tend with the present, where events take place as the narrative unfolds over time. Conversely, Emar deals with not today but yesterday so his first-person narrator always knows more than the readers and the novel narrates his wanderings with his wife about the city. They both engage in a surreal series of adventures, each stranger than the last & his own deeply introspective inner monologue is always in the search of a final meaning, a conclusion to gloss events, to rationalize vivid sensations.
Urged on by his wife, the narrator's quest to conclude, to turn observation into inference, also displays an existential dilemma. The quest can never be over; elusive illumination, enlightenment will always remain frustratingly out of reach. Even as we meet the rotating cast of characters, there's a recurring refrain to escape the current and hurry on to the next. Their want to know is constantly at war with the need to contain. It frequently gets philosophical for a stretch, the narrator jumping from thought to thought, lost in his mind & unable to articulate. First published in 1935, later reissued in the 70s & now brilliantly translated by Megan McDowell.
(I received a finished copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)
June 3, 2022
i understood that i would be snatched up in the claws of abstraction and never again would i have enough peace in my heart to wander free of worry through the streets, eat with gusto, or sleep side by side with the precious other half of my soul.a surrealist whirlwind set within a single day, juan emar's yesterday (ayer) is bizarrely comical and comically bizarre — and no doubt would have seemed significantly more of each when read upon its self-published release some 87 years ago in 1935. though rather prolific (what else to call the pseudonymous author of a 5,000-page magnum opus!), yesterday marks the chilean writer's first entry into english. admired by the likes of neruda, bolaño, aira, and zambra, emar's legacy has benefited from a posthumous ascendancy (and his pen name provenance ought to rank amongst the greatest of all time, j’en ai marre: "i am fed up").
at times hilarious, absurd, philosophical, and strangely touching, much of yesterday's imagery is strange and unforgettable (you'll never ever think of an ostrich in the same way again). best read in a single sitting, emar's slim tale of man and wife and weirdest day ever is a fun foray into unbridled imagination.
*translated from the spanish by megan mcdowell (zambra, schweblin, meruane, fonseca, enríquez, et al.)
August 29, 2022
Bardzo przyjemna książeczka. Strumień świadomości ładnie szemrze, jest trochę surrealistycznej zgrywy i dziwactwa, trochę zmagań czasem i bytem, ale wszystko bezpretensjonalnie i elegancko. Plus jeszcze ładne wydanie, czego tu nie lubić?
July 1, 2023
Vanguardista, surrealista, satírica y ácida. Una maravilla de novela.
September 16, 2022
Delightfully weird! Yesterday is a Dalí or a Picasso — distorted, melting, magnified, shrunken, in motion.
These trippy avant-garde prose are assured and confident, sometimes completely ectstatic ("...her body lying in bed took on a greenish hue, moldy from so much love!" [p 39]). Emar's narrator and his wife wander through the fictional San Agustín de Tango witnessing and experiencing the wild and the extravagent. An ostrich eating a lion, a public execution by guillotine, time-traveling bungee jumping spurred by a fly perched on a urinal. Some of this is clearly in the narrator's mind, but that's the furthest thing from the point. In Emar, everything is contained in everything — your entire life is contained in a single day and vice versa. Literally anything — a "pot-bellied man" sitting in a waiting room, vines growing on an art studio's windows, the urinal fly — can unravel in your mind endlessly until your life is laid before you and time itself is cleaved apart.
There's a lot here about how our environment impacts (and infects) us, to the point that we lose ourselves in it entirely. It has DeLillo written all over it, like the latent cloud in White Noise. "In the beginning God created cafés, shops and cinemas. And then cafés, shops, and cinemas created men," (p 60). Alejandro Zambra writes in his insightful forward that it seems Emar was writing for "readers of the future, and it's as arrogant as it is exciting to suppose that those readers of the future are us." It's true. The themes here seem tailor-made for the internet age, a world dominated by tech and social media algorithms' curated content timelines. After every wild encounter, the narrator and his wife declare “Enough! Let’s go,” with the ease of scrolling through insane TikToks, never to be thought of again.
Emar, a Chilean contemporary of Pablo Neruda and Vicente Huidobro, wrote predominantly in the interwar years. European Dadaism is the clearest influence, but it's difficult not to declare Emar a triumphant post-modernist writing damn near half a century ahead of his time. Pynchon, Vonnegut, Gaddis, Vollman, and on and on. They all follow, unwittingly, in his footsteps. They almost certainly have never read him. Emar was doing something distinct and revolutionary, but he did it in complete obscurity up until he found a growing following among Latin American academics, like by Zambra and others, that is just now trickling into the States. This 2021 translation of Yesterday made Emar available in English for the first time. Here's hoping to all hell that there's more to come from, in Neruda's words, "the forerunner of them all."
These trippy avant-garde prose are assured and confident, sometimes completely ectstatic ("...her body lying in bed took on a greenish hue, moldy from so much love!" [p 39]). Emar's narrator and his wife wander through the fictional San Agustín de Tango witnessing and experiencing the wild and the extravagent. An ostrich eating a lion, a public execution by guillotine, time-traveling bungee jumping spurred by a fly perched on a urinal. Some of this is clearly in the narrator's mind, but that's the furthest thing from the point. In Emar, everything is contained in everything — your entire life is contained in a single day and vice versa. Literally anything — a "pot-bellied man" sitting in a waiting room, vines growing on an art studio's windows, the urinal fly — can unravel in your mind endlessly until your life is laid before you and time itself is cleaved apart.
There's a lot here about how our environment impacts (and infects) us, to the point that we lose ourselves in it entirely. It has DeLillo written all over it, like the latent cloud in White Noise. "In the beginning God created cafés, shops and cinemas. And then cafés, shops, and cinemas created men," (p 60). Alejandro Zambra writes in his insightful forward that it seems Emar was writing for "readers of the future, and it's as arrogant as it is exciting to suppose that those readers of the future are us." It's true. The themes here seem tailor-made for the internet age, a world dominated by tech and social media algorithms' curated content timelines. After every wild encounter, the narrator and his wife declare “Enough! Let’s go,” with the ease of scrolling through insane TikToks, never to be thought of again.
Emar, a Chilean contemporary of Pablo Neruda and Vicente Huidobro, wrote predominantly in the interwar years. European Dadaism is the clearest influence, but it's difficult not to declare Emar a triumphant post-modernist writing damn near half a century ahead of his time. Pynchon, Vonnegut, Gaddis, Vollman, and on and on. They all follow, unwittingly, in his footsteps. They almost certainly have never read him. Emar was doing something distinct and revolutionary, but he did it in complete obscurity up until he found a growing following among Latin American academics, like by Zambra and others, that is just now trickling into the States. This 2021 translation of Yesterday made Emar available in English for the first time. Here's hoping to all hell that there's more to come from, in Neruda's words, "the forerunner of them all."
December 22, 2021
2.5 stars
I really appreciated the writing in Yesterday, it's lively, often humorous and engaging but the content didn't work quite so well for me. It follows a couple taking a stroll around San Agustin de Tango, a town in Chile, the different places they visit and the events that take place. These start off in dramatic fashion with an execution and an escape from the zoo and gradually get more and more mundane until we are watching our narrator visit the urinal in a restaurant. However, as the events become more apparently insignificant or innocuous, so the descriptions of them become more lengthy and philosophical to the point where if the book hadn't been so short I could well have given up. Some of the discussion such as the notion of greens in relation to red in their friends paintings I appreciated but the later sections made my brain ache. Of course this perhaps says more about my reading tastes and ability to comprehend than the book itself and many readers seem to love it but despite my love of Chilean lit, I'm not sure Emar is for me.
I really appreciated the writing in Yesterday, it's lively, often humorous and engaging but the content didn't work quite so well for me. It follows a couple taking a stroll around San Agustin de Tango, a town in Chile, the different places they visit and the events that take place. These start off in dramatic fashion with an execution and an escape from the zoo and gradually get more and more mundane until we are watching our narrator visit the urinal in a restaurant. However, as the events become more apparently insignificant or innocuous, so the descriptions of them become more lengthy and philosophical to the point where if the book hadn't been so short I could well have given up. Some of the discussion such as the notion of greens in relation to red in their friends paintings I appreciated but the later sections made my brain ache. Of course this perhaps says more about my reading tastes and ability to comprehend than the book itself and many readers seem to love it but despite my love of Chilean lit, I'm not sure Emar is for me.
June 13, 2023
Nie mogę powiedzieć, żebym przeczytał tę książkę z wielką przyjemnością.
Raczej miałem wrażenie, że autor był w trakcie procesu twórczego kompletnie napruty, a gdy wytrzeźwiał to zredagował i wyszła ta powieść.
Pisanie w takim stanie nie musi być złe dla dzieła, ale w tym wypadku nie jestem pewien czy efekt jest zadowalający.
Tak czy inaczej książka jest mocno odjechana, ale:
- jeżeli to prawda, że tak rodził się realizm magiczny - to uczniowie zdecydowanie przerośli mistrza
- trochę pachnie mi to Gombrowiczem, ale Ferdydurke powstało 2 lata później, więc albo Gombrowicz się natchnął autorem albo tłumaczka się natchnęła Gombrowiczem, skoro to ta sama epoka.
A skoro o tłumaczeniu, to zgadzam się z opiniami, że jest ono dobre (chociaż sama powieść nie bardzo mi się podoba).
Natomiast w jednym - ważnym - miejscu tłumaczka popełniła wg mnie błąd: pomyliła muszlę klozetową z pisuarem. Bohater celował w pewnym momencie strugą moczu do "pięciu dziurek" znajdujących się na dnie "muszli klozetowej". Ale przecież muszle nie mają takich dziurek. Mają je pisuary. Błąd może wynikać z płci tłumaczki - być może nie widziała na własne oczy pisuaru.
Przepraszam za ten nieapetyczny wtręt, ale wydał mi się istotny.
Raczej miałem wrażenie, że autor był w trakcie procesu twórczego kompletnie napruty, a gdy wytrzeźwiał to zredagował i wyszła ta powieść.
Pisanie w takim stanie nie musi być złe dla dzieła, ale w tym wypadku nie jestem pewien czy efekt jest zadowalający.
Tak czy inaczej książka jest mocno odjechana, ale:
- jeżeli to prawda, że tak rodził się realizm magiczny - to uczniowie zdecydowanie przerośli mistrza
- trochę pachnie mi to Gombrowiczem, ale Ferdydurke powstało 2 lata później, więc albo Gombrowicz się natchnął autorem albo tłumaczka się natchnęła Gombrowiczem, skoro to ta sama epoka.
A skoro o tłumaczeniu, to zgadzam się z opiniami, że jest ono dobre (chociaż sama powieść nie bardzo mi się podoba).
Natomiast w jednym - ważnym - miejscu tłumaczka popełniła wg mnie błąd: pomyliła muszlę klozetową z pisuarem. Bohater celował w pewnym momencie strugą moczu do "pięciu dziurek" znajdujących się na dnie "muszli klozetowej". Ale przecież muszle nie mają takich dziurek. Mają je pisuary. Błąd może wynikać z płci tłumaczki - być może nie widziała na własne oczy pisuaru.
Przepraszam za ten nieapetyczny wtręt, ale wydał mi się istotny.
August 24, 2022
Lubię, gdy literatura wyprowadza mnie ze strefy mojego komfortu. Lubię, gdy serwuje mi dania o smakach nowych, nieoczywistych, ale diabelnie dobrych. Lubię, gdy mnie zaskakuje, gdy mnie zadziwia, gdy prowadzi mnie na pola wcześniej mi nieznane, lub znane w stopniu niewielkim. Lubię, gdy czytając czuję się, jakbym była na haju, jakbym ulatywała gdzieś, gdzie sama, przy pomocy własnego umysłu i własnej wyobraźni, nie miałabym szans się udać. Dlatego też polubiłam najnowszą książkę z serii Cymelia wydawnictwa @artragepl - "Wczoraj" Juana Emara, w przepięknej oprawie autorstwa @piskorek_lukasz.
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San Augustin de Tango. Na małżeński, surrealistyczny spacer po tym chilijskim miasteczku zabiera nas Juan Emar, gwarantując nam przeżycia nie do zapomnienia. Zaczynamy od gilotynowania Malleca, człowieka, który odkrył istotę miłości fizycznej, potem udajemy się do zoo San Andrés, by wysłuchać śpiewu pawianów i przeżyć spotkanie lwicy ze strusiem, następnie odwiedzamy malarza i dyskutujemy o zieleniach, potem idziemy na plac Ornatu, gdzie poznajemy pewnego grubasa, odwiedzamy rodzinę bohatera, by dzień zakończyć w Tawernie Bosych i domu spacerowiczów. Brzmi w miarę zwyczajnie? Ale tylko w miarę. Dość tu wspomnieć, że Juan Emar, dzielący swoje życie między Santiago i Paryż, czerpał swoje inspiracje ze świata artystycznej awangardy, a jego dzieła inspirowane były dadaizmem i surrealizmem. Samo to powinno Wam powiedzieć, że spacer z bohaterem książki nie będzie spacerem zwykłym. Jest to bowiem nie tyle spacer przez miejsca na planie miasta, ile przez strumień myśli bohatera, a raczej strumień jego świadomości. Nie ma więc większego znaczenia co bohater widzi (a widzi rzeczy niezwykłe), a to, co czuje, myśli, przeżywa, to, gdzie ulatuje jego myśl, w jakie rejony świadomości się zagłębia, i jakie z pozoru realne światy nawiedza. Jest to spacer porywający, wciągający, ale i momentami wyczerpujący, sprawiający, że umysł pracuje na wysokich obrotach, starając się nadążyć za myślami bohatera. I, o matulu, jest to spacer fascynujący, do bólu fascynujący.
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Czy polecam książkę? O TAK! Ale tylko tym, którzy nie boją się wyrwać z ram powieści klasycznej, standardowej, którzy nie oczekują w książce relacji przyczynowo skutkowych, którzy chcą przeżyć coś nowego. Dla mnie wielkie chapeau bas, także dla Wydawnictwa, za odwagę.
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San Augustin de Tango. Na małżeński, surrealistyczny spacer po tym chilijskim miasteczku zabiera nas Juan Emar, gwarantując nam przeżycia nie do zapomnienia. Zaczynamy od gilotynowania Malleca, człowieka, który odkrył istotę miłości fizycznej, potem udajemy się do zoo San Andrés, by wysłuchać śpiewu pawianów i przeżyć spotkanie lwicy ze strusiem, następnie odwiedzamy malarza i dyskutujemy o zieleniach, potem idziemy na plac Ornatu, gdzie poznajemy pewnego grubasa, odwiedzamy rodzinę bohatera, by dzień zakończyć w Tawernie Bosych i domu spacerowiczów. Brzmi w miarę zwyczajnie? Ale tylko w miarę. Dość tu wspomnieć, że Juan Emar, dzielący swoje życie między Santiago i Paryż, czerpał swoje inspiracje ze świata artystycznej awangardy, a jego dzieła inspirowane były dadaizmem i surrealizmem. Samo to powinno Wam powiedzieć, że spacer z bohaterem książki nie będzie spacerem zwykłym. Jest to bowiem nie tyle spacer przez miejsca na planie miasta, ile przez strumień myśli bohatera, a raczej strumień jego świadomości. Nie ma więc większego znaczenia co bohater widzi (a widzi rzeczy niezwykłe), a to, co czuje, myśli, przeżywa, to, gdzie ulatuje jego myśl, w jakie rejony świadomości się zagłębia, i jakie z pozoru realne światy nawiedza. Jest to spacer porywający, wciągający, ale i momentami wyczerpujący, sprawiający, że umysł pracuje na wysokich obrotach, starając się nadążyć za myślami bohatera. I, o matulu, jest to spacer fascynujący, do bólu fascynujący.
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Czy polecam książkę? O TAK! Ale tylko tym, którzy nie boją się wyrwać z ram powieści klasycznej, standardowej, którzy nie oczekują w książce relacji przyczynowo skutkowych, którzy chcą przeżyć coś nowego. Dla mnie wielkie chapeau bas, także dla Wydawnictwa, za odwagę.
January 16, 2023
Zdarza Wam się przeczytać książkę i stwierdzić, że jej nie zrozumieliście?
Nie bronię się przed nowymi literackimi doświadczeniami i chętnie sięgam po nieznanych mi autorów, tym bardziej, jeśli opis zapowiada szczyptę realizmu magicznego tak jak w przypadku powieści „Wczoraj” Juana Emara. Jednak tym razem poziom surrealizmu okazał się dla mnie najzwyczajniej zbyt wysoki. Trudno było mi wyciągnąć z tej historii coś dla siebie. Nie okazała się ani dobrą rozrywką, ani nie dostarczyła powodów do głębszych przemyśleń.
Trzeba przyznać autorowi, że potrafi posługiwać się słowem, bo sztuką jest rozprawiać przez kilka stron o obrazie stworzonym z wszystkich (dosłownie wszystkich) odcieni zieleni, czy wspólnym śpiewie z gromadą pawianów. Za dużo tu jednak dywagacji, rozkładania na czynniki pierwsze i gdybania.
Są momenty, które można uznać za zabawne, w innych można pokusić się o szukanie głębszego sensu i próbę przedstawienia ludzkiej natury, jednak cała lektura pozostawiła mnie z poczuciem niezrozumienia zawartej w niej treści i celu, dla którego powstała.
Czy dla autora utożsamiającego się z głównym bohaterem pisanie tej powieści, a właściwie historyjek składających się na bardzo dziwaczny dzień pewnego małżeństwa było zabawą, żartem, czy miało na celu coś więcej? Nie mam pojęcia. Może pewnego dnia doznam oświecenia przy oddawaniu moczu jak nasz bohater.
Nie bronię się przed nowymi literackimi doświadczeniami i chętnie sięgam po nieznanych mi autorów, tym bardziej, jeśli opis zapowiada szczyptę realizmu magicznego tak jak w przypadku powieści „Wczoraj” Juana Emara. Jednak tym razem poziom surrealizmu okazał się dla mnie najzwyczajniej zbyt wysoki. Trudno było mi wyciągnąć z tej historii coś dla siebie. Nie okazała się ani dobrą rozrywką, ani nie dostarczyła powodów do głębszych przemyśleń.
Trzeba przyznać autorowi, że potrafi posługiwać się słowem, bo sztuką jest rozprawiać przez kilka stron o obrazie stworzonym z wszystkich (dosłownie wszystkich) odcieni zieleni, czy wspólnym śpiewie z gromadą pawianów. Za dużo tu jednak dywagacji, rozkładania na czynniki pierwsze i gdybania.
Są momenty, które można uznać za zabawne, w innych można pokusić się o szukanie głębszego sensu i próbę przedstawienia ludzkiej natury, jednak cała lektura pozostawiła mnie z poczuciem niezrozumienia zawartej w niej treści i celu, dla którego powstała.
Czy dla autora utożsamiającego się z głównym bohaterem pisanie tej powieści, a właściwie historyjek składających się na bardzo dziwaczny dzień pewnego małżeństwa było zabawą, żartem, czy miało na celu coś więcej? Nie mam pojęcia. Może pewnego dnia doznam oświecenia przy oddawaniu moczu jak nasz bohater.
October 6, 2022
kurwa co
May 15, 2023
Genialne. Esencja myśli; pochwycenie procesu myślenia. Pięknie napisane. Świetnie przetłumaczone. Fenomenalne zakończenie.
May 28, 2023
3.75, to była bardzo ciekawa przeprawa!
August 1, 2025
Jeśli jesteś na imprezie, wchodzisz do kuchni i widzisz tam samotnie stojącego Juana Emara, to czeka cię jeden z najlepszych bądź najgorszych yappingów w twoim życiu.
September 12, 2024
Now THAT is how you write about time and space. Also ostriches skinning lions alive with their buttholes
December 10, 2025
rey de sobrepensar en el siglo xx
este libro tiene fragmentos que me parecen preciosos
« el día de hoy está por terminar, el anterior pasó, vendrá el de mañana y vendrá luego otro más y otro y otro y yo sobre ellos seguiré moviendo los pies para no caer de bruces. Oigo, veo, siento todo. Hay cierto olorcillo a camelias. Oigo, veo, siento, vivo. ¿A qué dudar que el cerebro se me ha vaciado como vaso comunicante hasta el nivel de la realidad? (…) Ahora estaba en cama para levantarme al día siguiente y volver a ella por la noche. Para comer, saludar, comentar, soñar, bostezar y amar y al final dormir para poder despertar y poder recomenzar día a día, codo a codo, hueso a hueso con mis semejantes, con el aire, con el suelo y con vivir ».
este libro tiene fragmentos que me parecen preciosos
« el día de hoy está por terminar, el anterior pasó, vendrá el de mañana y vendrá luego otro más y otro y otro y yo sobre ellos seguiré moviendo los pies para no caer de bruces. Oigo, veo, siento todo. Hay cierto olorcillo a camelias. Oigo, veo, siento, vivo. ¿A qué dudar que el cerebro se me ha vaciado como vaso comunicante hasta el nivel de la realidad? (…) Ahora estaba en cama para levantarme al día siguiente y volver a ella por la noche. Para comer, saludar, comentar, soñar, bostezar y amar y al final dormir para poder despertar y poder recomenzar día a día, codo a codo, hueso a hueso con mis semejantes, con el aire, con el suelo y con vivir ».
Read
May 7, 2022deep but not dour, fun surrealist novella about a wife guy finding meaning in potbellies and urinals. the phrase "my wife" appears 81 times
October 13, 2023
Ależ to jest cudownie posrane! Zupełnie odklejone od rzeczywistości, ale wspaniale napisane i przetłumaczone. Drogie ArtRage, poproszę więcej martwych chilijczyków!
February 5, 2025
Ot, zapiski koszmaru fenomenologicznego.
June 28, 2024
Podobał mi się ten dziwaczny twór. Nie ukrywam, że liczyłam może na coś ciut innego, mniej chaotycznego. Mimo wszystko gdzieś tam ten klimat do mnie przemówił, no i ten styl! Zgrabnie się to czytało.
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