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Παιχνίδι με τις λέξεις
"Από τον ήλιο στη σκιά. Με γυμνές πατούσες από το χώμα πάνω στις κρύες πέτρες. Ξυπόλητη. Σ' αυτό τον τόπο σχεδόν πάντα λάμπει ο ήλιος, εκείνος λάμπει και λάμπει και λάμπει, κι ο ουρανός γύρω απ' τον ήλιο είναι σχεδόν πάντα εντελώς άδειος. Τι τρώει όμως ο ήλιος;, ρωτάω τον πατέρα μου. Νερό, είν' η απάντηση που μου δίνει. Και πού είναι το κρεβάτι του; Ο ήλιος δεν κοιμάται, απαντάει. Όταν εμείς έχουμε νύχτα, εκείνος λάμπει στην άλλη πλευρά του κόσμου. Ωραίος καιρός σήμερα. Σήμερα κι όλες τις μέρες".
Στο τρίτο της βιβλίο η Γερμανίδα Τζέννυ Έρπενμπεκ,, γνωστή στο ελληνικό κοινό από την "Ιστορία του γερασμένου παιδιού" και τα "Σκύβαλα", δανείζεται το υλικό της από την πολιτική πραγματικότητα μίας μακρινής ηλιόλουστης χώρας και με χειρουργική ακρίβεια ανατόμου αποκαλύπτει ένα φρικτό έγκλημα.
Το "Παιχνίδι με τις λέξεις" (2004) πρέπει να διαβαστεί απνευστί, ει δυνατόν ψιθυριστά, ως ένα πολιτικό θρίλερ με εφιαλτικές ψυχολογικές προεκτάσεις ή ως ένα ψυχολογικό θρίλερ με εφιαλτικό πολιτικό υπόβαθρο. Και θα ξαναδιαβαστεί, πάλι και πάλι...
"Πάντα όταν η Τζέννυ Έρπενμπεκ κατευθύνει την κοφτερή ματιά της στα πράγματα, αυτά αλλάζουν αστραπιαία. Η επιφάνεια λιώνει. Από κάτω εμφανίζεται ό,τι κινεί τις φιγούρες ως υποδόριος ερεθισμός."
(Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung)
Στο τρίτο της βιβλίο η Γερμανίδα Τζέννυ Έρπενμπεκ,, γνωστή στο ελληνικό κοινό από την "Ιστορία του γερασμένου παιδιού" και τα "Σκύβαλα", δανείζεται το υλικό της από την πολιτική πραγματικότητα μίας μακρινής ηλιόλουστης χώρας και με χειρουργική ακρίβεια ανατόμου αποκαλύπτει ένα φρικτό έγκλημα.
Το "Παιχνίδι με τις λέξεις" (2004) πρέπει να διαβαστεί απνευστί, ει δυνατόν ψιθυριστά, ως ένα πολιτικό θρίλερ με εφιαλτικές ψυχολογικές προεκτάσεις ή ως ένα ψυχολογικό θρίλερ με εφιαλτικό πολιτικό υπόβαθρο. Και θα ξαναδιαβαστεί, πάλι και πάλι...
"Πάντα όταν η Τζέννυ Έρπενμπεκ κατευθύνει την κοφτερή ματιά της στα πράγματα, αυτά αλλάζουν αστραπιαία. Η επιφάνεια λιώνει. Από κάτω εμφανίζεται ό,τι κινεί τις φιγούρες ως υποδόριος ερεθισμός."
(Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung)
155 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
27 people are currently reading
1371 people want to read
About the author
Jenny Erpenbeck
31 books1,159 followersJenny Erpenbeck (born 12 March 1967 in East Berlin) is a German director and writer.
Jenny Erpenbeck is the daughter of the physicist, philosopher and writer John Erpenbeck and the Arabic translator Doris Kilias. Her grandparents are the authors Fritz Erpenbeck and Hedda Zinner. In Berlin she attended an Advanced High School, where she graduated in 1985. She then completed a two-year apprenticeship as a bookbinder before working at several theaters as props and wardrobe supervisor.
From 1988 to 1990 Erpenbeck studied theatre at the Humboldt University of Berlin. In 1990 she changed her studies to Music Theater Director (studying with, among others, Ruth Berghaus, Heiner Müller and Peter Konwitschny) at the Hanns Eisler Music Conservatory. After the successful completion of her studies in 1994 (with a production of Béla Bartók's opera Duke Bluebeard's Castle in her parish church and in the Kunsthaus Tacheles, she spent some time at first as an assistant director at the opera house in Graz, where in 1997 she did her own productions of Schoenberg's Erwartung, Bartók's Duke Bluebeard's Castle and a world premiere of her own piece Cats Have Seven Lives. As a freelance director, she directed in 1998 different opera houses in Germany and Austria, including Monteverdi's L'Orfeo in Aachen, Acis and Galatea at the Berlin State Opera and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Zaide in Nuremberg/Erlangen.
In the 1990s Erpenbeck started a writing career in addition to her directing. She is author of narrative prose and plays: in 1999, History of the Old Child, her debut; in 2001, her collection of stories Trinkets; in 2004, the novella Dictionary; and in February 2008, the novel Visitation. In March 2007, Erpenbeck took over a biweekly column by Nicole Krauss in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung.
Erpenbeck lives in Berlin with her son, born 2002.
Jenny Erpenbeck is the daughter of the physicist, philosopher and writer John Erpenbeck and the Arabic translator Doris Kilias. Her grandparents are the authors Fritz Erpenbeck and Hedda Zinner. In Berlin she attended an Advanced High School, where she graduated in 1985. She then completed a two-year apprenticeship as a bookbinder before working at several theaters as props and wardrobe supervisor.
From 1988 to 1990 Erpenbeck studied theatre at the Humboldt University of Berlin. In 1990 she changed her studies to Music Theater Director (studying with, among others, Ruth Berghaus, Heiner Müller and Peter Konwitschny) at the Hanns Eisler Music Conservatory. After the successful completion of her studies in 1994 (with a production of Béla Bartók's opera Duke Bluebeard's Castle in her parish church and in the Kunsthaus Tacheles, she spent some time at first as an assistant director at the opera house in Graz, where in 1997 she did her own productions of Schoenberg's Erwartung, Bartók's Duke Bluebeard's Castle and a world premiere of her own piece Cats Have Seven Lives. As a freelance director, she directed in 1998 different opera houses in Germany and Austria, including Monteverdi's L'Orfeo in Aachen, Acis and Galatea at the Berlin State Opera and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Zaide in Nuremberg/Erlangen.
In the 1990s Erpenbeck started a writing career in addition to her directing. She is author of narrative prose and plays: in 1999, History of the Old Child, her debut; in 2001, her collection of stories Trinkets; in 2004, the novella Dictionary; and in February 2008, the novel Visitation. In March 2007, Erpenbeck took over a biweekly column by Nicole Krauss in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung.
Erpenbeck lives in Berlin with her son, born 2002.
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February 2, 2024
My complete review of The Book of Words is published at Before We Go Blog.
Childhood doesn’t make sense.
When we are children, we try to understand the rules governing human interactions in this complex world. This is made even more difficult when parents try to preserve a child’s innocence in a society full of unexplained cruelty.
In The Book of Words, Jenny Erpenbeck tells the surreal tale of childhood under a repressive government. The location of the story is unspecified. It apparently takes place in Argentina but also reflects Erpenbeck’s upbringing in East Berlin under Communist rule.
“Why am I never allowed to go anywhere by myself, I ask my mother. Because you can never know what might happen, my mother says. We walk into the park at whom center a large man made of stone is standing. Besides this man, no one is here, but in a country where the sun is almost always shining, no one likes to go for walks in the middle of the day, not even in the shade. Or does everyone who comes here alone for a walk get turned to stone, I ask my mother. What nonsense, she replies and goes on walking.”
The unnamed narrator’s childhood is a story of innocence in a world of subtraction. Family and friends routinely disappear without any explanation. Even words themselves seem to disappear. The story becomes especially harrowing as we learn the role played by the narrator’s own family in the government’s repressive activities.
“What are my eyes for if they can see but see nothing? What are my ears for if they can hear but hear nothing? Why all this strangeness inside my head?”
The Book of Words is written in the style of Proust. The writing is beautiful, and the story is built on memories in a surrealistic fashion. However, Erpenbeck’s novella conveys the story in a much more concise fashion than Proust, which is fitting for a book of subtraction where words disappear:
“My father takes me on his lap. I lay myself flat against his belly and curl up so that my head comes to rest between his head and shoulder. He rocks me back and forth, softly singing the song of our homeland, a song in a minor key, my and my father’s song, we often sit together like this, but while he is really singing, I release my breath only on certain notes, as the desire strikes me, very softly. Sometimes my breath fits with what he is singing, but often it doesn’t, and then the whole thing sounds off-kilter and clashes, but this too pleases him and me.”
The Book of Words is a haunting portrait of a society that lives under constant fear, told from the point of view of an innocent child just trying to make sense out of something that is inherently nonsensical. Jenny Erpenbeck is clearly among the forefront of contemporary German literature.
Childhood doesn’t make sense.
When we are children, we try to understand the rules governing human interactions in this complex world. This is made even more difficult when parents try to preserve a child’s innocence in a society full of unexplained cruelty.
In The Book of Words, Jenny Erpenbeck tells the surreal tale of childhood under a repressive government. The location of the story is unspecified. It apparently takes place in Argentina but also reflects Erpenbeck’s upbringing in East Berlin under Communist rule.
“Why am I never allowed to go anywhere by myself, I ask my mother. Because you can never know what might happen, my mother says. We walk into the park at whom center a large man made of stone is standing. Besides this man, no one is here, but in a country where the sun is almost always shining, no one likes to go for walks in the middle of the day, not even in the shade. Or does everyone who comes here alone for a walk get turned to stone, I ask my mother. What nonsense, she replies and goes on walking.”
The unnamed narrator’s childhood is a story of innocence in a world of subtraction. Family and friends routinely disappear without any explanation. Even words themselves seem to disappear. The story becomes especially harrowing as we learn the role played by the narrator’s own family in the government’s repressive activities.
“What are my eyes for if they can see but see nothing? What are my ears for if they can hear but hear nothing? Why all this strangeness inside my head?”
The Book of Words is written in the style of Proust. The writing is beautiful, and the story is built on memories in a surrealistic fashion. However, Erpenbeck’s novella conveys the story in a much more concise fashion than Proust, which is fitting for a book of subtraction where words disappear:
“My father takes me on his lap. I lay myself flat against his belly and curl up so that my head comes to rest between his head and shoulder. He rocks me back and forth, softly singing the song of our homeland, a song in a minor key, my and my father’s song, we often sit together like this, but while he is really singing, I release my breath only on certain notes, as the desire strikes me, very softly. Sometimes my breath fits with what he is singing, but often it doesn’t, and then the whole thing sounds off-kilter and clashes, but this too pleases him and me.”
The Book of Words is a haunting portrait of a society that lives under constant fear, told from the point of view of an innocent child just trying to make sense out of something that is inherently nonsensical. Jenny Erpenbeck is clearly among the forefront of contemporary German literature.
August 14, 2017
"Εν. Δυο. Τρία. Όλες τις γρήγορες κινήσεις, όλα τα ξαφνικά και όλα όσα είναι στραβά, το τρέξιμο, το κούνημα, το σπρώξιμο, το γέρσιμο και το πέσιμο, το στριφογύρισμα και το πήδημα μάς τα κόβουνε,τα πάνε κάπου που δεν τα φτάνουμε εμείς πια, κι εκεί γίνονται παλιοσίδερα. Σαν τα ποδήλατα, όταν είναι παρατημένα, μπλέκονται εκεί το ένα με το άλλο, κάνουν έναν αδιαχώριστο σωρό, μπερδεύονται και σκουριάζουνε τελικά μαζί, λες κι ήταν ένα από πάντα. Ένα"
Απ'τον Μάρτιο το διαβάζω σιγά σιγά. Τώρα το διάβασα μονορούφι. Κ οι δύο τρόποι είναι ταιριαστοί. Η Erpenbeck είναι μια ξεχωριστή συγγραφέας κ το Παιχνίδι με τις Λέξεις δεν κάνει μόνο αυτό που προεξοφλεί ο τίτλος του. Σχεδόν στοιχειώνει τον αναγνώστη καθώς η ανώνυμη αφηγήτρια περιγράφει τη ζωή σε μια χώρα που έχει πάντα ήλιο. Είναι προφανές ότι μιλάει για την περίοδο της στρατιωτικής χούντας στην Αργεντινή (το '76) αλλά δεν έχει κ τόσο σημασία. Ο διάλογος λίγο πριν το τέλος μεταξύ πατέρα κ κόρης ("...όλα όσα έχει σκεφτεί ο άλλος είναι μες τη σάρκα του...") είναι ανατριχιαστικός. Όπως αρκετά σημεία αυτού του τόσο πρωτότυπου βιβλίου που όχι μόνο πατάει γερά στην παράδοση της κεντροευρωπαϊκης λογοτεχνίας αλλά την πάει κ λίγο παραπέρα.
Υπέροχο βιβλίο σε υπέροχη μετάφραση.
Απ'τον Μάρτιο το διαβάζω σιγά σιγά. Τώρα το διάβασα μονορούφι. Κ οι δύο τρόποι είναι ταιριαστοί. Η Erpenbeck είναι μια ξεχωριστή συγγραφέας κ το Παιχνίδι με τις Λέξεις δεν κάνει μόνο αυτό που προεξοφλεί ο τίτλος του. Σχεδόν στοιχειώνει τον αναγνώστη καθώς η ανώνυμη αφηγήτρια περιγράφει τη ζωή σε μια χώρα που έχει πάντα ήλιο. Είναι προφανές ότι μιλάει για την περίοδο της στρατιωτικής χούντας στην Αργεντινή (το '76) αλλά δεν έχει κ τόσο σημασία. Ο διάλογος λίγο πριν το τέλος μεταξύ πατέρα κ κόρης ("...όλα όσα έχει σκεφτεί ο άλλος είναι μες τη σάρκα του...") είναι ανατριχιαστικός. Όπως αρκετά σημεία αυτού του τόσο πρωτότυπου βιβλίου που όχι μόνο πατάει γερά στην παράδοση της κεντροευρωπαϊκης λογοτεχνίας αλλά την πάει κ λίγο παραπέρα.
Υπέροχο βιβλίο σε υπέροχη μετάφραση.
January 9, 2011
"What are my eyes for if I can see but see nothing?" ... wonders the child, "I must seize memory like a knife and turn it against itself, stabbing memory with memory. If I can." The old idiom "seeing is believing" is turned on its head: everything, the young girl muses, has turned into its opposite. "For me," she recalls, "words used to be stable, fixed in place, but now I'm letting them all go..." With such a poignant opening scenario Jenny Erpenbeck draws us immediately and deeply into a world that is both real and surreal. In a language that is both very poetic and at the surface undemanding, her story evolves into a profound, intricately structured and deeply affecting fictional memoir that reads at times like a fable, but then again also as a realistic account of a young girl's coming of age in extraordinary circumstances.
While the events surrounding the girl's sheltered life suggest a concrete time and place, even without naming the country, the author is at pains to illustrate conditions and responses that many a young person may have to confront in a country under totalitarian rule. A rule in which, at least for a while, the young may be protected from the realities outside their pleasant cage by "high walls" and where gunshots are being interpreted as "blowing tires". Her friend Anna presents her with the most outlandish explanations for everything unusual that occurs, some funny, some macabre, but delivered with deadpan expression. The girl wonders, however, and tries to bring the different experiences into some reality she can understand. Her father, who adores her and spends evenings playing with her, usually avoids a direct comment to such explanations that she passes on to him. She is too young to worry her pretty head about it.
As she grows, more strictures affect her directly: in school, where she tried to look like everybody else, within the larger family, after she overhears conversations in which she is labelled as "there is something inherently spoiled about her". Most irritating are the confines her mother, the woman with eyes "the colour of water", imposes on her without explanations or motherly warmth to offset the increasing distance between mother and child. The girl has many questions about what she observes and the people around her and those who suddenly disappear from her immediate environment. But while she shares her questions and reflections with us, the readers, she remains reluctant to confront those around her. Eventually, as can be expected, the house of cards that had been build around her collapses...
It is not easy to convey the beauty of Erpenbeck's writing, despite its sombre topic, without revealing too much of the detailed content of the novel. In a short ninety pages, she creates a rich and emotionally charged universe that reaches far beyond the individual's story. Erpenbeck, who herself grew up under the confines and strictures of the East German state, brings her experiences to bear, although more in suggested parallels and hints than openly. Most evident is the frequent use of lines from German folksongs, ditties, or children rhymes. In the context of this novel, the often crude violence in such ancient sayings, which, as children, we would have repeated without understanding the content, underscores her concern about language and the many meanings of words. Susan Bernofsky, Erpenbeck's translator, adds some context to these and other aspects of the novel. However, I would strongly urge the reader NOT to look at the afterword before reading the book.
Having read THE BOOK OF WORDS ("Wörterbuch" in German, which incidentally suggests more complex connotations than the English title) following her brilliant, more recent novel, Visitation, I was prepared for Erpenbeck's extraordinary ability to mould language and imagery to her very personal needs and vision. In her home country she is widely regarded as the most poetic and innovative writer of the younger German writer generation. While her language and style are not the easiest to connect to, yet, once you do, you very likely can become hooked. Her latest novel, "Dinge, die verschwinden" (Things that disappear - not yet available in English) pursues her deep connection with words and their meanings.
While the events surrounding the girl's sheltered life suggest a concrete time and place, even without naming the country, the author is at pains to illustrate conditions and responses that many a young person may have to confront in a country under totalitarian rule. A rule in which, at least for a while, the young may be protected from the realities outside their pleasant cage by "high walls" and where gunshots are being interpreted as "blowing tires". Her friend Anna presents her with the most outlandish explanations for everything unusual that occurs, some funny, some macabre, but delivered with deadpan expression. The girl wonders, however, and tries to bring the different experiences into some reality she can understand. Her father, who adores her and spends evenings playing with her, usually avoids a direct comment to such explanations that she passes on to him. She is too young to worry her pretty head about it.
As she grows, more strictures affect her directly: in school, where she tried to look like everybody else, within the larger family, after she overhears conversations in which she is labelled as "there is something inherently spoiled about her". Most irritating are the confines her mother, the woman with eyes "the colour of water", imposes on her without explanations or motherly warmth to offset the increasing distance between mother and child. The girl has many questions about what she observes and the people around her and those who suddenly disappear from her immediate environment. But while she shares her questions and reflections with us, the readers, she remains reluctant to confront those around her. Eventually, as can be expected, the house of cards that had been build around her collapses...
It is not easy to convey the beauty of Erpenbeck's writing, despite its sombre topic, without revealing too much of the detailed content of the novel. In a short ninety pages, she creates a rich and emotionally charged universe that reaches far beyond the individual's story. Erpenbeck, who herself grew up under the confines and strictures of the East German state, brings her experiences to bear, although more in suggested parallels and hints than openly. Most evident is the frequent use of lines from German folksongs, ditties, or children rhymes. In the context of this novel, the often crude violence in such ancient sayings, which, as children, we would have repeated without understanding the content, underscores her concern about language and the many meanings of words. Susan Bernofsky, Erpenbeck's translator, adds some context to these and other aspects of the novel. However, I would strongly urge the reader NOT to look at the afterword before reading the book.
Having read THE BOOK OF WORDS ("Wörterbuch" in German, which incidentally suggests more complex connotations than the English title) following her brilliant, more recent novel, Visitation, I was prepared for Erpenbeck's extraordinary ability to mould language and imagery to her very personal needs and vision. In her home country she is widely regarded as the most poetic and innovative writer of the younger German writer generation. While her language and style are not the easiest to connect to, yet, once you do, you very likely can become hooked. Her latest novel, "Dinge, die verschwinden" (Things that disappear - not yet available in English) pursues her deep connection with words and their meanings.
November 16, 2024
Λίγο πάνω από 100 σελίδες σπασμένα κομμάτια από ένα βάζο. Διαβάζεις και στο μυαλό σου μένουν λέξεις φράσεις, προτάσεις φαινομενικά μετέωρες. Ο λόγος της Έρπενμπεγκ παρόμοιος με αυτόν στα Σκύβαλα μα πιο ασυνάρτητος. Φαινομενικά.
Ένα μικρό κορίτσι που διηγείται, ο πατέρας, η μητέρα, η παραμάνα, η παραδουλεύτρα, η φίλη της η Άννα στο σχολείο.
Και ξαφνικά, εκείνη και ο πατέρας της. Στις επόμενες 30 σελίδες ένας διάλογος που παίρνει όλα τα σπασμένα κομμάτια και τα κολλάει και φτιάχνει το πιο σκοτεινό, το πιο εφιαλτικό βάζο που έχετε δει ποτέ σε σπίτι.
Η Έρπενμπεγκ είναι σπουδαία. Δύσκολη αλλά σπουδαία.
Ένα μικρό κορίτσι που διηγείται, ο πατέρας, η μητέρα, η παραμάνα, η παραδουλεύτρα, η φίλη της η Άννα στο σχολείο.
Και ξαφνικά, εκείνη και ο πατέρας της. Στις επόμενες 30 σελίδες ένας διάλογος που παίρνει όλα τα σπασμένα κομμάτια και τα κολλάει και φτιάχνει το πιο σκοτεινό, το πιο εφιαλτικό βάζο που έχετε δει ποτέ σε σπίτι.
Η Έρπενμπεγκ είναι σπουδαία. Δύσκολη αλλά σπουδαία.
December 18, 2011
Let me state my point of view right from the start: I think Jenny Erpenbeck may just well be one of the very finest writers at work today. Her book Visitation has lingered for months after reading it, and her earlier book, The Book of Words is spellbinding in its spareness and power.
The narrator, an unnamed little girl, relates the world around her in a prism of innocence. She attends school, goes on idyllic trip with her wet nurse although she’s way past the age of breastfeeding, and lives in an unnamed country – presumably Argentina – where the sun seems to be eternally shining.
But read the words carefully and just about every single paragraph in this short 90-page book is underpinned with menace. “A ball is a thing that rolls and sometimes bounces. A father is a man who stays taller than you for a long time…If a person wants to play ball with someone’s head, only the nose would get in the way.”
As readers, we know that there are dark incidents happening right out of the periphery of the little girl’s sight. Her wet nurse receives a “gift” of a box of hands. The gardener goes on a “vacation.” And, when her father, a high-ranking government official, calmly reveals the secrets to his daughter, the effect is so chilling that it’s almost hard to read the words…but at this point, the emotional investment in the book is so complete that it’s equally difficult to draw away.
From the unnamed narrator: “Why does mankind have so many languages? I ask my father as we are walking back to his parent’s house hand in hand after the service. So now can anyone just come and take a word away from the thing it belongs to…” Words – innocent, simple words – become fraught with sinister meaning: heat, cold, wet…hands, eyes, nose, mouth. People disappear and words no longer mean what they say.
The girl who has been meticulously instructed by her father to use words actually uses them in her own way to tell a different story: “Those who. Then their friends. Those who remember. Who are afraid. And finally everyone. Everyone everyone.” Words are dropped, commas disappear, people vanish as well. Jenny Erpenbeck takes the words she explores and dissects to create another masterpiece.
The narrator, an unnamed little girl, relates the world around her in a prism of innocence. She attends school, goes on idyllic trip with her wet nurse although she’s way past the age of breastfeeding, and lives in an unnamed country – presumably Argentina – where the sun seems to be eternally shining.
But read the words carefully and just about every single paragraph in this short 90-page book is underpinned with menace. “A ball is a thing that rolls and sometimes bounces. A father is a man who stays taller than you for a long time…If a person wants to play ball with someone’s head, only the nose would get in the way.”
As readers, we know that there are dark incidents happening right out of the periphery of the little girl’s sight. Her wet nurse receives a “gift” of a box of hands. The gardener goes on a “vacation.” And, when her father, a high-ranking government official, calmly reveals the secrets to his daughter, the effect is so chilling that it’s almost hard to read the words…but at this point, the emotional investment in the book is so complete that it’s equally difficult to draw away.
From the unnamed narrator: “Why does mankind have so many languages? I ask my father as we are walking back to his parent’s house hand in hand after the service. So now can anyone just come and take a word away from the thing it belongs to…” Words – innocent, simple words – become fraught with sinister meaning: heat, cold, wet…hands, eyes, nose, mouth. People disappear and words no longer mean what they say.
The girl who has been meticulously instructed by her father to use words actually uses them in her own way to tell a different story: “Those who. Then their friends. Those who remember. Who are afraid. And finally everyone. Everyone everyone.” Words are dropped, commas disappear, people vanish as well. Jenny Erpenbeck takes the words she explores and dissects to create another masterpiece.
February 24, 2021
Króciutka książka o ogromnej sile rażenia. Nie spodziewałem się takiego ładunku emocjonalnego, ale chwyciła mnie za gardło i nie puściła do ostatniej strony. Historia o życiu w państwie totalitarnym, o słowach i języku, które je opisują i o ciszy, niedopowiedzeniach. Wszystko dzieje się gdzieś obok, a pośrodku tego wszystkiego stoi dziewczyna, która z dziecięcą naiwnością pojmuje świat. Mocne i ciężkie do wyrzucenia z głowy.
March 6, 2020
لم أكمل ربعه! خدعني الغلاف والعنوان
June 7, 2011
full disclosure: i'm in love with this book.
erpenbeck is a master of implying, of offering soft hints that build to a terrible outcome. we enter her world and view it through a child's eyes and immediately, much is made of language:
"a ball is a thing that rolls and sometimes bounces. a father is a man who stays taller than you for a long time. before my father goes to confession, he shaves and puts on a clean shirt. if a person wanted to play ball with someone's head, only the nose would get in the way."
every time i read this book, i am learning from it. it is a lesson in being concise. erpenbeck's ability to use small simple words to create huge, complex visions and ideas gets me every single time. i can only imagine what this reads like in german. i can't read german. i wish i could read german. this will have to do. the sparseness is admirable. it makes me want to trim everything, words and hedges and the hair of men.
anyway - everything in this text is hinting, and i don't want to give away any spoilers. but this is a novella that builds and builds, shedding only small light on the truth until eventually you understand that everything here is menacing, there is so much violence, there are so many secrets, there is so much war.
erpenbeck is a master of implying, of offering soft hints that build to a terrible outcome. we enter her world and view it through a child's eyes and immediately, much is made of language:
"a ball is a thing that rolls and sometimes bounces. a father is a man who stays taller than you for a long time. before my father goes to confession, he shaves and puts on a clean shirt. if a person wanted to play ball with someone's head, only the nose would get in the way."
every time i read this book, i am learning from it. it is a lesson in being concise. erpenbeck's ability to use small simple words to create huge, complex visions and ideas gets me every single time. i can only imagine what this reads like in german. i can't read german. i wish i could read german. this will have to do. the sparseness is admirable. it makes me want to trim everything, words and hedges and the hair of men.
anyway - everything in this text is hinting, and i don't want to give away any spoilers. but this is a novella that builds and builds, shedding only small light on the truth until eventually you understand that everything here is menacing, there is so much violence, there are so many secrets, there is so much war.
December 19, 2011
I'm certainly glad I read this book before giving it to my granddaughter. It is NOT a book for children or even teenagers. I don't even know how many stars to give it. It is like no other book I've read. The lyrical language and sense of mystery drew me in, but what a ghastly ending. I'm glad for the translator's note which explains some of the references that would be apparent to a native German speaker reading in German.
I've decided on 5 stars, as this book is haunting me.
I've decided on 5 stars, as this book is haunting me.
July 27, 2013
Erpenbeck's novel (novella?) is a surprising kind of tale, where the reader is not afforded the chance to become jaded by the ghastly nature of the events. Torture, sadism, and mutilation all make prominent plays in the course of the narrative, yet it never comes across as anything but skin-crawlingly terrible. To say anything more in this direction is to give away all the precious nightmares this book has to offer.
Many have noted that the focalization is what gives this book all of its attractive qualities, in that the narrator, due to her intersection of age, sex, and class, has what can only be termed a novel way of approaching her world. The language is fresh, complicated, and translates well into this English context. Even more sophisticated is how its political qualities are delivered through a voice one would not expect to discover the articulation of suffering.
Where is comes short is the willful way it drops several strands of its world that seem like they ought to be more fully explored. And there are certainly worse critiques that can be levied against a book than coming to the end of a tale and asking for it to do more of what it was doing. This claim in no way negatively impacts what is present. Maybe this is more of a personal thing.
In any case, a definitive recommendation is offered on behalf of this book. Come on! It is short and light and will weigh on your imagination for a long time.
Please come visit us at Hideous Progeny to see what else we are up to.
Many have noted that the focalization is what gives this book all of its attractive qualities, in that the narrator, due to her intersection of age, sex, and class, has what can only be termed a novel way of approaching her world. The language is fresh, complicated, and translates well into this English context. Even more sophisticated is how its political qualities are delivered through a voice one would not expect to discover the articulation of suffering.
Where is comes short is the willful way it drops several strands of its world that seem like they ought to be more fully explored. And there are certainly worse critiques that can be levied against a book than coming to the end of a tale and asking for it to do more of what it was doing. This claim in no way negatively impacts what is present. Maybe this is more of a personal thing.
In any case, a definitive recommendation is offered on behalf of this book. Come on! It is short and light and will weigh on your imagination for a long time.
Please come visit us at Hideous Progeny to see what else we are up to.
February 26, 2008
This book is a lot like another book that I have read recently, but I can't remember which one. Stupid memory. I think it was one of the NIcholas Mosley books, if it wasn't though it can be compared with Mosley. A child's perspective of living in an unnamed country under some kind of tyrannical government. The perspective gives a surreal quality to what is going on, and creates an interesting alternate logic to an already (dare I use the dreaded phrase Orwellian? I hate myself so much right now for even typing that) shifted logical world. "A ball is a thing that rolls and sometimes bounces. A father is a man who stays taller than you for a long time. Before my father goes to confession, he shaves and puts on a clean shirt. If a person wanted to play ball with someone's head, only the nose would get in the way. before my father goes to confession, he takes me on his lap and lets me ride his knee."
The book can be slightly annoying, since nothing is ever really given by the unnamed narrator. Much of what happens has no definite meaning, and the unfortunate plasticity of language under a totalitarian regime, confuses the reader as much as for the narrator. (Not that language is only subjected to this type of violation under 'evil-empires', but also in 'good-empires' like our own where inane euphemisms and advertising attempt to devoid language of any kind of real meaning).
An interesting book, and the whole style worked very well for a novella of eighty pages.
The book can be slightly annoying, since nothing is ever really given by the unnamed narrator. Much of what happens has no definite meaning, and the unfortunate plasticity of language under a totalitarian regime, confuses the reader as much as for the narrator. (Not that language is only subjected to this type of violation under 'evil-empires', but also in 'good-empires' like our own where inane euphemisms and advertising attempt to devoid language of any kind of real meaning).
An interesting book, and the whole style worked very well for a novella of eighty pages.
March 14, 2025
4+
Den senaste tiden har jag läst ett par egensinniga skildringar ur barnperspektiv: "Aliide, Allide" av Mare Kandre och "Slutet på en familjeroman" av Péter Nádas. Till dessa sällar sig nu Erpenbecks "Ordbok".
Här handlar det mycket om barnets oförmåga att se bortom det uppenbara, ordens ursprungliga betydelse. Och vad som händer när verkligheten slutligen tvingar sig på, vuxenblivandet om man så vill. På någon av de första sidorna skrapar barnet bort puts från husets fasad vilket blir en talande symbol.
Berättelsen utspelar sig i ett namnlöst land, men det mesta tyder på att det är Argentina. Berättaren lever i en skyddad tillvaro med sina föräldrar där pappa jobbar inom säkerhetstjänsten. Ur barnets perspektiv får vi följa de samhälleliga spänningarna i vad som uppenbarligen är en diktatur i gungning.
Det är en alldeles lysande roman, tät och med ett visst mått av mystik. Små antydningar och subtila detaljer om vad som komma skall planteras här och var, och berättarens röst känns egen men också trovärdig. Det är en bok jag gärna skulle läsa om vid tillfälle.
Den senaste tiden har jag läst ett par egensinniga skildringar ur barnperspektiv: "Aliide, Allide" av Mare Kandre och "Slutet på en familjeroman" av Péter Nádas. Till dessa sällar sig nu Erpenbecks "Ordbok".
Här handlar det mycket om barnets oförmåga att se bortom det uppenbara, ordens ursprungliga betydelse. Och vad som händer när verkligheten slutligen tvingar sig på, vuxenblivandet om man så vill. På någon av de första sidorna skrapar barnet bort puts från husets fasad vilket blir en talande symbol.
Berättelsen utspelar sig i ett namnlöst land, men det mesta tyder på att det är Argentina. Berättaren lever i en skyddad tillvaro med sina föräldrar där pappa jobbar inom säkerhetstjänsten. Ur barnets perspektiv får vi följa de samhälleliga spänningarna i vad som uppenbarligen är en diktatur i gungning.
Det är en alldeles lysande roman, tät och med ett visst mått av mystik. Små antydningar och subtila detaljer om vad som komma skall planteras här och var, och berättarens röst känns egen men också trovärdig. Det är en bok jag gärna skulle läsa om vid tillfälle.
May 20, 2018
The World, as explained by a girl growing up in a sunny country. Her parents are from another country where there's snow. There was something that happened and they moved. Her father is an expert, knows exactly where to drop bodies into the sea so they don't wash up. At school, they tell fantasies of siblings shooting themselves. Women are dragged off buses. This is just life.
Slowly horrifying, yet marvellous in how it keeps just about everything just out of reach. Could stand next to Perec's W and not be ashamed.
Slowly horrifying, yet marvellous in how it keeps just about everything just out of reach. Could stand next to Perec's W and not be ashamed.
June 13, 2021
Wyobrażam sobie, jak wielu osobom „Słownik” mógłby nie przypaść do gustu, bo jeśli się nad nim nie skupimy, prędko wyjdzie nam z powierzchownych oględzin treści, że to modernistyczny bełkot, jakich wiele. Faktycznie, współcześnie łatwo trafić na książkę przeintelektualizowaną, o tak dziwacznej formie, że jesteśmy nią zmęczeni, a na końcu mamy wrażenie, że to powieść-wydmuszka: pod wydumanymi słowami tak naprawdę nie kryje się nic wartościowego.
Jenny Erpenbeck łatwo przykleić podobną łatkę, bo jej książka też jest z kategorii dziwnych, ale owa pogłębiająca się dziwność ma sens, a autorka prowadzi nas we wszystkie porąbane zakamarki powoli, świadomie i konsekwentnie. Dlatego warto się skoncentrować i dać szansę „Słownikowi”.
Dla mnie ten styl pisania jest wyjątkowy – świeży i mocny. Tego szukam we współczesnej literaturze pięknej, a ponury świat wykreowany przez Jenny Erpenbeck wciągnął mnie na tyle, że ciężko było zrobić przerwę na spanie :).
Jenny Erpenbeck łatwo przykleić podobną łatkę, bo jej książka też jest z kategorii dziwnych, ale owa pogłębiająca się dziwność ma sens, a autorka prowadzi nas we wszystkie porąbane zakamarki powoli, świadomie i konsekwentnie. Dlatego warto się skoncentrować i dać szansę „Słownikowi”.
Dla mnie ten styl pisania jest wyjątkowy – świeży i mocny. Tego szukam we współczesnej literaturze pięknej, a ponury świat wykreowany przez Jenny Erpenbeck wciągnął mnie na tyle, że ciężko było zrobić przerwę na spanie :).
December 8, 2012
A very interesting novella, narrated by a young girl confronting a life in a dictator controlled regime. It is a novel about objects, words and lives being taken away. Not an easy read as it is a stream of consciousness novel, and I have t admit it takes one a little time to get comfortable with this style of writing. Well done though I did think the young lady was younger than the sixteen years she turned out to be, unless of course she was younger at the beginning of the book which is very hard to tell. Different, interesting and definitely worth reading if stream of consciousness novels appeal.
June 18, 2024
Leest als een koortsdroom, classic Jenny 😍
November 30, 2016
"¿Y para qué están mis ojos, si ven pero no ven nada? ¿Para qué mis oídos, si oyen pero no oyen nada? ¿Para qué todo esto ajeno a mí, en mi cabeza?".
De esta forma tan poco convencional e intrigante comienza La pureza de las palabras. Al mismo tiempo empieza un viaje de unas pocas páginas, pero que pareciera haber sido de más de 1000; esta novela es un constante objetivo de análisis. No solo por lo que efectivamente pasa, sino también por la forma en la que pasan las cosas.
La prosa de la autora se lleva todos los laureles de este texto. Es realmente complicado describir por qué. ¿Qué hace que su narración sea tan especial? A medida que iba leyendo, el texto me producía algo parecido a la hipnosis; sin lugar a dudas, el estilo de Erpenbeck tiene algo hipnótico. La forma en la que cuenta lo que pasa, la elección lírica y precisa de las palabras que utiliza genera algo extraño, que impulsaba a que continuara con la lectura; y es realmente interesante: en realidad, en la novela no pasa mucho. No hay acciones que sorprendan, giros de trama que intriguen o acciones que causen suspenso. En La pureza de las palabras se relata una vida. En este caso, la vida de una niña, que vive en un país inventado, en el que los gritos, disparos, explosiones y gente desaparecida es moneda corriente. Todo lo que se describe pasa por sus ojos y, especialmente, por su mente. Pero ella parece vivir en otro mundo. Es criada por una nodriza que le cuenta leyendas, tiene un padre amoroso y contenedor, y aunque su madre es un poco distante siempre se encarga de que ella esté bien. Sin embargo, a medida que crece, empiezan a aflorar verdades que ella no quiere saber; la verdadera identidad de su padre se revela, y aunque ella no parece darle demasiada importancia es bastante impactante para el lector el hecho de darse cuenta de quién es realmente este hombre. Probablemente no sea tan sorpresivo porque lo dice la sinopsis, pero la forma en la que lo cuenta la autora es lo que indudablemente tiene más valor.
Es también muy meritoria la descripción que hace la autora del país en el que viven los personajes. Un mundo regido por la tiranía, en la que los hombres encargados de restaurar el orden son grandes criminales, envueltos en una crueldad despiadada. Es quizás una paradoja cómo a través de una prosa poética Erpenbeck logra mostrar un contexto de tanto horror; probablemente, uno de los más grandes logros de esta novela.
"Al recreo salimos en fila uno detrás de otro hasta la puerta del aula, despacito, dicen los maestros. Uno. Dos. Y tres. Todos los movimientos bruscos, todo lo espontáneo y lo irregular: correr, balancearse, empujarse, apoyarse y caerse, girar y saltar, todo eso es extirpado de nosotros y depositado en algún lugar fuera de nuestro alcance donde se convierte en chatarra. Como las bicicletas cuando se desechan, en ese lugar todo se agarrota, se forma una pila enmarañada, se encastra entre sí y, finalmente, se convierte todo junto en chatarra, como si alguna vez eso hubiese sido todo uno".
La pureza de las palabras es una novela totalmente diferente a cualquier otro texto que yo haya leído. Disfruté de cada momento. Es un inigualable ejercicio para nuestra mente. Esta novela nos demuestra que una acción puede ser una sola y de una manera, pero lo que es más valorable de un escritor es cómo trabaja sobre esa acción, cómo decide contarla. En consecuencia, definir su propio estilo narrativo.
June 3, 2023
كتاب الكلمات من الروايات التي تتطلب من القارئ انتباه تام ، فالرواية تحكى على لسان طفلة وفيها تتعمد المؤلفة أن لا تتجاوز وعي الطفل بمحيطه ، مما يجعل استيعاب القارئ للأحداث و واقع الرواية مهمة صعبة، فالطفل صاحب إدراك بسيط و جزئي لا يتجاوز مشاعره و رغباته ، ثم أنه صاحب مخيلة خصبة و ذهن يسهل خداعه .
اسلوب المؤلفة في الكتابة رائق ، فالرواية كتبت على فقرات كأنها نصوص شعرية ، تقف أمام المواقف و المناظر و الشخوص وقفة متأملة وغامضة .
ثلث الرواية الأخير و الخاتمة كانت صدمة و تحول مفاجئ ، جعلني أتساءل هل كانت مقدماته واضحة ولم انتبه لها؟ ، كذلك ما زالت الفترة الزمنية التي تدور بها الأحداث غامضة فلا أدري هل هي بعد سقوط النازية أم قبيل نهاية الحرب العالمية الثانية؟ ، لهذا لابد من قراءة ثانية للعمل وربما بلغة أخرى كي أرى انعكاس آخر لأسلوب جيني الجميل .
"سألت والدي ما هو الأثر؟ اجاب بأنه شيء لا يمكن أن يكون مصادفة ، فقلت ؛ ولكن نعم ،يجب على المرء لكي يحدد أولا ما ليس مصادفة أن يعرف كل شي آخر. قال والدي ؛ ربما . سألته وماذا عن الوقت المزدوج، الذي يملكه هذا الأثر . فقال أبي؛ ماذا تعنين بالوقت المزدوج؟ قلت له الوقت الذي ذهب فيه الطائر، والوقت الثاني الذي عرفنا فيه ذهابه ، بين الوقتين يوجد الاثر كنوع من الجسر بينهما . قال أبي؛ ربما . ولكن عندما تقترب من نهاية العمر يصبح بإمكانك التمييز بين الصدفة وبين أي شيء آخر، ولكن يكون من الصعب عليك عبور الجسر مرة أخرى. "
اسلوب المؤلفة في الكتابة رائق ، فالرواية كتبت على فقرات كأنها نصوص شعرية ، تقف أمام المواقف و المناظر و الشخوص وقفة متأملة وغامضة .
"هل تحتاجين إذاً كلمة مقعد لكي تجلسين على مقعد؟ قلت؛ لا . قال أبي ؛ حسناً هو هكذا . ما يمكنكِ الإمساك به ليس عليكِ التحدث عنه."
ثلث الرواية الأخير و الخاتمة كانت صدمة و تحول مفاجئ ، جعلني أتساءل هل كانت مقدماته واضحة ولم انتبه لها؟ ، كذلك ما زالت الفترة الزمنية التي تدور بها الأحداث غامضة فلا أدري هل هي بعد سقوط النازية أم قبيل نهاية الحرب العالمية الثانية؟ ، لهذا لابد من قراءة ثانية للعمل وربما بلغة أخرى كي أرى انعكاس آخر لأسلوب جيني الجميل .
April 18, 2012
Those who. Then their friends. Those who remember. Who are afraid. And finally everyone. Everyone everyone.A skillfully woven, lyrical novel/poem with a bang. Not as good as Visitation, but similar in its sense of absence. The empty house in Visitation that gets populated with stories is here replaced with an empty child, naive, almost without words, who becomes a vessel through which careful repetition and ominous clues are dropped; the reader is very subtley nudged towards the crux of the novel. I think where the book suffers is where it becomes almost too perfect, not enough rough edges, so that it feels engineered around a certain effect. The narrator is too much a tool, a vehicle for the book. I think of it as sort of an excellently told fable, a well oiled engine, but it lacks the grit of the dead mother's milk in its teething mouth.
October 4, 2008
I really liked the the perspective at first, from child's stream of consciousness. By midway through the book, I was pretty tired of it.
June 17, 2024
Dit boek was sowieso al vreemd maar vanaf p 84 werd het zo unhinged like 💀
April 10, 2025
Zone of Interest could never. Give her the Nobel already.
June 4, 2016
The Child's Garden of Horrors
Erpenbeck's novella is mesmerizing from beginning to end. It is only a child's imagination, after all, and the hints of violence are nightmares she will presumably get over. But she doesn't. Her world gradually contracts, as the people in her life are suddenly there no more, only to return to visit her without heads or hands but happy as ghosts. Grass grows between the paving stones where she played hopscotch; a statue of her father's friend is erected in an empty park. Suddenly, with a surprising lurch, we discover that she has become a whole lot older than her voice would indicate, old enough for her father to share secrets she had been too young to understand. Now looking through the book again from the beginning in order to write this review, I am hard-pressed to find a single paragraph that is not already tainted with foreknowledge of those secrets. But Erpenbeck is masterly in her pacing (until perhaps the end), and you go along willingly with her nameless little girl, simply unable to put the short book down.
Susan Bernofsky is an assured translator, leaving me in complete confidence that her abrupt shifts from childish prattle to fractured syntax must exactly match the German (which I have not seen). She also writes an informative afterword, placing the book in a historical and geographical context far better than I could do myself. As she suggests, the setting appears to be that of the Argentinian "Dirty War" of 1976–83; what I have been able to read up since shows that even Erpenbeck's more extraordinary images may be based on fact. But Bernofsky also makes the point (quoting, for example, the numerous folk songs in the text) that this is also a very German book. By writing about a totalitarian regime on the other side of the world, Erpenbeck is also commenting on the two other such regimes that devastated her own country, East Germany, in the second and third quarters of the 20th century respectively. Having now read all three of her books [then] published in English,* I can see that Erpenbeck's search for oblique means of examining this national pathology has been an abiding concern. The Book of Words (2004) thus fall midway between The Old Child and Other Stories (1999) and Visitation (2008) in style as well as time, having something of the surreal symbolism of the one without yet attaining the lucid surface unity of the other. But she is a writer of the greatest power, and all three books (which just get better and better) are well worth reading.
+ + + + + +
*I would now add The End of Days (2012), larger and more assured than any of its predecessors, equally innovative in technique, and further extending the theme of the innocent growing up in a politically-compromised world.
Father and mother. Ball. Car. These might be the only words that were still intact when I learned them. […] A ball is a thing that rolls and sometimes bounces. A father is a man who stays taller than you for a long time. Before my father goes to confession, he shaves and puts on a clean shirt. If a person wanted to play ball with someone's head, only the nose would get in the way.A small girl growing up in a middle-class family in an unnamed Latin American country, presumably Argentina, tries to assemble her impressions of childhood. Her father who works in a white palace downtown. Her mother with eyes the color of water, who puts her to sleep with the Brahms Lullaby. Her beloved wet nurse, resembling "a faerie with green slanting eyes." The gardener who goes on a long vacation and never returns. The assemblies at school, saluting the flag. The sound of tires going pop in a nearby street. Her friend Anna with tall stories about lovers shooting each other in suicide pacts. Angels falling from a sun-washed sky into a steel-gray sea. Words which mean one thing and then another, or nothing at all.
Erpenbeck's novella is mesmerizing from beginning to end. It is only a child's imagination, after all, and the hints of violence are nightmares she will presumably get over. But she doesn't. Her world gradually contracts, as the people in her life are suddenly there no more, only to return to visit her without heads or hands but happy as ghosts. Grass grows between the paving stones where she played hopscotch; a statue of her father's friend is erected in an empty park. Suddenly, with a surprising lurch, we discover that she has become a whole lot older than her voice would indicate, old enough for her father to share secrets she had been too young to understand. Now looking through the book again from the beginning in order to write this review, I am hard-pressed to find a single paragraph that is not already tainted with foreknowledge of those secrets. But Erpenbeck is masterly in her pacing (until perhaps the end), and you go along willingly with her nameless little girl, simply unable to put the short book down.
Susan Bernofsky is an assured translator, leaving me in complete confidence that her abrupt shifts from childish prattle to fractured syntax must exactly match the German (which I have not seen). She also writes an informative afterword, placing the book in a historical and geographical context far better than I could do myself. As she suggests, the setting appears to be that of the Argentinian "Dirty War" of 1976–83; what I have been able to read up since shows that even Erpenbeck's more extraordinary images may be based on fact. But Bernofsky also makes the point (quoting, for example, the numerous folk songs in the text) that this is also a very German book. By writing about a totalitarian regime on the other side of the world, Erpenbeck is also commenting on the two other such regimes that devastated her own country, East Germany, in the second and third quarters of the 20th century respectively. Having now read all three of her books [then] published in English,* I can see that Erpenbeck's search for oblique means of examining this national pathology has been an abiding concern. The Book of Words (2004) thus fall midway between The Old Child and Other Stories (1999) and Visitation (2008) in style as well as time, having something of the surreal symbolism of the one without yet attaining the lucid surface unity of the other. But she is a writer of the greatest power, and all three books (which just get better and better) are well worth reading.
+ + + + + +
*I would now add The End of Days (2012), larger and more assured than any of its predecessors, equally innovative in technique, and further extending the theme of the innocent growing up in a politically-compromised world.
July 22, 2024
Η αλήθεια είναι πως μετά τα "Σκύβαλα" περίμενα ότι και το βιβλιαράκι αυτό, το τρίτο της Έρπενμπεκ, θα μου άρεσε, δεν περίμενα όμως πως η συγγραφέας είναι ικανή σε τόσο λίγες σελίδες να προκαλέσει τέτοια συναισθηματική φόρτιση: μια αίσθηση πως κάτι σε πιάνει από το λαιμό και δε σε αφήνει (ούτε θέλεις να σε αφήσει) ώσπου να φτάσεις στην τελευταία σελίδα.
Σε ένα μέρος που δεν κατονομάζεται (αλλά μοιάζει με την Αργεντινή και την πατρίδα της συγγραφέως) γινόμαστε μάρτυρες, κυρίως χάρη σε ένα κορίτσι που αντιλαμβάνεται τον κόσμο με παιδική αφέλεια, μιας ιστορίας για τη ζωή σε ένα ολοκληρωτικό κράτος, για τις λέξεις και τη γλώσσα που περιγράφουν αυτή τη ζωή αλλά και για τη σημασία της σιωπής. Όσον αφορά τη γλώσσα της ίδιας της Έρπενμπεκ εδώ, είναι ζωντανή, ρέουσα, πολύπλοκή με μια αίσθηση φρεσκάδας, και μπορεί να μην είναι η πιο εύκολη, αλλά σε αιχμαλωτίζει.
Σε ένα μέρος που δεν κατονομάζεται (αλλά μοιάζει με την Αργεντινή και την πατρίδα της συγγραφέως) γινόμαστε μάρτυρες, κυρίως χάρη σε ένα κορίτσι που αντιλαμβάνεται τον κόσμο με παιδική αφέλεια, μιας ιστορίας για τη ζωή σε ένα ολοκληρωτικό κράτος, για τις λέξεις και τη γλώσσα που περιγράφουν αυτή τη ζωή αλλά και για τη σημασία της σιωπής. Όσον αφορά τη γλώσσα της ίδιας της Έρπενμπεκ εδώ, είναι ζωντανή, ρέουσα, πολύπλοκή με μια αίσθηση φρεσκάδας, και μπορεί να μην είναι η πιο εύκολη, αλλά σε αιχμαλωτίζει.
September 7, 2019
Πολύ σκληρό παιχνίδι. Δεν θυμάμαι πού ήταν αλλά αφού το τελείωσα συμφώνησα απόλυτα με μια κριτική που έλεγε ότι το βιβλίο αυτό είναι καλύτερα να το διαβάσεις μονορούφι. Ή όσο πιο μονορούφι γίνεται τέλος πάντων. Εγώ το ξεκίνησα διακόπτωντας δύο φορές στις πρώτες 40-45 σελίδες και μου φάνηκε ως και ασυνάρτητο σε κάποιες στιγμές. Το πήρα από την αρχή και αποκαλύφθηκαν καλύτερα οι εικόνες που αποκαλύπτουν και κρύβουν εναλλάξ το μυαλό και η αφήγηση ενός κοριτσιού. Εικόνες ενός πολιτικού θρίλερ σε μια κοινωνία που πρόκειται να καταληφθεί από την βία, τον φόβο και την άγνοια. Εικόνες που χτίζονται με λέξεις που σταδιακά αλλάζουν νόημα για το μυαλό του κοριτσιού και για τις ζωές όλων γύρω της. Ωραίο και διαφορετικό μικρό βιβλίο με μεγάλο περιεχόμενο.
April 13, 2025
H βιβλιάρα
σοκ και σοκ
κατακερματισμένα περιβάλλοντα και κατακερματισμένες πόλεις και πίσω από πέπλα, κεκαλυμμένα το σύγχρονο έργο, γλώσσες που χάνονται, λέξεις που μετακυλίονται σε ράγες θαμνώδεις και σε χορταριασμένες ρωγμές της ασφάλτου
τρομερή τζένη
σοκ και σοκ
κατακερματισμένα περιβάλλοντα και κατακερματισμένες πόλεις και πίσω από πέπλα, κεκαλυμμένα το σύγχρονο έργο, γλώσσες που χάνονται, λέξεις που μετακυλίονται σε ράγες θαμνώδεις και σε χορταριασμένες ρωγμές της ασφάλτου
τρομερή τζένη
March 13, 2018
I really enjoyed Go, Went, Gone. The Book of Words is, I think, the author's first novel. It's a very short book, 90 pages, and, perhaps intentionally, it's difficult to get one's footing. Experimental in certain ways, it's set in an unnamed South American country, the narrator, a girl from childhood to age 17, is also unnamed, as is everyone else. The gist is how words lose their meaning when appropriated by brutal regimes. Everything is seen through the girl's eyes. By turns rather beautiful, and also brutal, it's not an easy book to read, in both ways - the actual reading of it, and the subject matter. Still, it will stay with me, I'm sure. And I relished the tough reading of it because frankly books should be tougher and meatier and heavier than they've become.
August 21, 2017
This story gradually becomes less ambiguous as it progresses but I can't decide whether I think the technique is successful or not! It is certainly not suitable for anyone looking for a straightforward story.
February 11, 2020
I loved this book, it is best read in one sitting. My mind loves to wander the way Erpenbeck writes though I fear even attempting to pin down my thoughts in this manner. This book is dark and vague at times, not for the reader who demands that everything "make sense" at all times and likes things spelt out for them.
March 10, 2025
The concept of Wörterbuch is truly intriguing! Though certain sections were challenging to understand, the book’s plot and complexity, make it worth the read.
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