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Рифмы жизни и смерти
В новом романе Амоса Оза главный герой - некий писатель - приходит на встречу с публикой. Оглядывая собравшихся в зале, он некоторых из них наделяет именем и судьбой. Живые люди становятся персонажами и отныне ходят тропой его воображения.
По сути, эта книга - попытка Оза устами своего героя ответить на важнейшие вопросы философии творчества: "Почему ты пишешь?", "Каково это - быть знаменитым писателем?", "Как ты определяешь себя самого?"
По сути, эта книга - попытка Оза устами своего героя ответить на важнейшие вопросы философии творчества: "Почему ты пишешь?", "Каково это - быть знаменитым писателем?", "Как ты определяешь себя самого?"
Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 2007
30 people are currently reading
577 people want to read
About the author
Amos Oz
188 books1,649 followersAmos Oz (Hebrew: עמוס עוז; born Amos Klausner) was an Israeli writer, novelist, journalist and intellectual. He was also a professor of literature at Ben-Gurion University in Beersheba. He was regarded as Israel's most famous living author.
Oz's work has been published in 42 languages in 43 countries, and has received many honours and awards, among them the Legion of Honour of France, the Goethe Prize, the Prince of Asturias Award in Literature, the Heinrich Heine Prize and the Israel Prize. In 2007, a selection from the Chinese translation of A Tale of Love and Darkness was the first work of modern Hebrew literature to appear in an official Chinese textbook.
Since 1967, Oz had been a prominent advocate of a two-state solution to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict.
Oz's work has been published in 42 languages in 43 countries, and has received many honours and awards, among them the Legion of Honour of France, the Goethe Prize, the Prince of Asturias Award in Literature, the Heinrich Heine Prize and the Israel Prize. In 2007, a selection from the Chinese translation of A Tale of Love and Darkness was the first work of modern Hebrew literature to appear in an official Chinese textbook.
Since 1967, Oz had been a prominent advocate of a two-state solution to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict.
Ratings & Reviews
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 131 reviews
August 8, 2022
[Revised, pictures and shelves added 8/8/2022]
An aging Israeli author is making the rounds of local book groups. This brief book, 150 pages, is translated from Hebrew.
We are treated to his mental peregrinations as the author sits there listening to his introduction, a reading of his work, and a critic’s response before he makes his remarks.
Mostly he does what authors do: while sitting there he imagines lives for the people in the audience. He also tries to pick up the waitress in the coffee shop (no success) and, after the event, the woman who reads his work. Success! Or not? He gives us both scenarios. This is fiction, after all, and the author is asking us “why should you believe everything I write?”
A sample of the writing from the waitress’s musings: “…men can’t help themselves, that’s just the way they are made, but women are actually not much better, and that’s why love is something that one way or another always turns out badly.”
A good, quick, punchy read. I gave it a 5.
Goodreads says the author, while living (1938-2018), was Israel’s ‘most famous living author.’ His 40 novels, short story collections, and children’s books were translated into 45 languages. All his novels appear to be available in English. His best-known book in English is A Tale of Love and Darkness.
Tel Aviv from en.globes.co.il
An Israeli stamp honoring the author from wopa-plus.com
An aging Israeli author is making the rounds of local book groups. This brief book, 150 pages, is translated from Hebrew.
We are treated to his mental peregrinations as the author sits there listening to his introduction, a reading of his work, and a critic’s response before he makes his remarks.
Mostly he does what authors do: while sitting there he imagines lives for the people in the audience. He also tries to pick up the waitress in the coffee shop (no success) and, after the event, the woman who reads his work. Success! Or not? He gives us both scenarios. This is fiction, after all, and the author is asking us “why should you believe everything I write?”
A sample of the writing from the waitress’s musings: “…men can’t help themselves, that’s just the way they are made, but women are actually not much better, and that’s why love is something that one way or another always turns out badly.”
A good, quick, punchy read. I gave it a 5.
Goodreads says the author, while living (1938-2018), was Israel’s ‘most famous living author.’ His 40 novels, short story collections, and children’s books were translated into 45 languages. All his novels appear to be available in English. His best-known book in English is A Tale of Love and Darkness.
Tel Aviv from en.globes.co.il
An Israeli stamp honoring the author from wopa-plus.com
March 13, 2021
Az író az olyan, mint a szarka. Lop, szemérmetlenül. Üldögélsz gyanútlanul mondjuk a 63-as buszon, ő meg mögötted foglal helyet, észre sem veszed, és lenyúlja a gesztusaidat.
... az elrévedő pillantásodat, ahogy kitekintesz az ablakon.
... a mozdulatot, ahogy megigazgatod a maszkodat.
... a telefonba suttogott szavaidat.
... de még a szemed színét is.
Elszedi tőled, ami te vagy, és alapanyagot csinál belőled a saját történetéhez. Új nevet erőszakol rád, új identitást, beleépít a saját fantáziájába. Annyi, de annyi gesztust lopkod innen-onnan, hogy az csakhamar tekintélyes kupaccá áll össze az írói elmében. Nem is kupac az, hanem domb. Hegylánc. Szédítő Csomolungma. Akkora halom, hogy már nem is lehet szétválogatni. Hogy mi az, amit tőled van, és mi az, ami az írótól. Mi az, ami írói konstrukció, és mi az, ami valódi tapasztalás. Össze van keveredve az egész, mint bálás ruhák a turiban. Lehet, már nem is tud rendet vágni a káoszban. De lehet, hogy nem is kell.
... az elrévedő pillantásodat, ahogy kitekintesz az ablakon.
... a mozdulatot, ahogy megigazgatod a maszkodat.
... a telefonba suttogott szavaidat.
... de még a szemed színét is.
Elszedi tőled, ami te vagy, és alapanyagot csinál belőled a saját történetéhez. Új nevet erőszakol rád, új identitást, beleépít a saját fantáziájába. Annyi, de annyi gesztust lopkod innen-onnan, hogy az csakhamar tekintélyes kupaccá áll össze az írói elmében. Nem is kupac az, hanem domb. Hegylánc. Szédítő Csomolungma. Akkora halom, hogy már nem is lehet szétválogatni. Hogy mi az, amit tőled van, és mi az, ami az írótól. Mi az, ami írói konstrukció, és mi az, ami valódi tapasztalás. Össze van keveredve az egész, mint bálás ruhák a turiban. Lehet, már nem is tud rendet vágni a káoszban. De lehet, hogy nem is kell.
June 16, 2024
Amos Oz is a respected and prolific author.
In this novella, Oz takes away all the noisy elements of religion and politics (thank heavens) and concentrates on existential questions of his own.
What is the role of a published writer? How important is all the stuff he imparts to his contemporary audience and what is the shelf-life of his works? How much of his personal story should he share with others, and should the account be fictional or not? And is he writing for himself or profit?
The protagonist is only known to us as the "Author," who is a celebrated writer. He finds the benefits of fame are silly and he finds himself bored with his writing and bored with his readers and he now suffers the accolades.
But, thank heavens, in his mid-forties, he is functionally productive on all pistons...sexually. And he depicts, in detail, his and her tantric pleasures and techniques to anyone who needs to learn it (for the Puritans that exist on planet Uron possibly).
And from the vantage point of his lovers (we are introduced to several), we come to understand their unique views of the world, and his views of these women's views by his interpretation.
So? Okay.
Occam's razor (or Gillette's); who cares?
In this novella, Oz takes away all the noisy elements of religion and politics (thank heavens) and concentrates on existential questions of his own.
What is the role of a published writer? How important is all the stuff he imparts to his contemporary audience and what is the shelf-life of his works? How much of his personal story should he share with others, and should the account be fictional or not? And is he writing for himself or profit?
The protagonist is only known to us as the "Author," who is a celebrated writer. He finds the benefits of fame are silly and he finds himself bored with his writing and bored with his readers and he now suffers the accolades.
But, thank heavens, in his mid-forties, he is functionally productive on all pistons...sexually. And he depicts, in detail, his and her tantric pleasures and techniques to anyone who needs to learn it (for the Puritans that exist on planet Uron possibly).
And from the vantage point of his lovers (we are introduced to several), we come to understand their unique views of the world, and his views of these women's views by his interpretation.
So? Okay.
Occam's razor (or Gillette's); who cares?
July 9, 2017
This short story seems to be a gimmick, a little experiment of Amos Oz, but maybe it's not and it is deadly serious. This uncertainty is expressed in constantly shifting perspectives, short pieces of action and then reveries. There’s a clear focus on the grimy and desolate side of existence. Eventually, the writer and the writing are central to the plot, all characters turn out to be the writer himself, who creatively struggles with his impotence in life. Not an easy book, but I do think that Oz had a lot of fun writing it.
February 7, 2017
הספר הוא סוג של אינטרוספקטיבה על תהליך הכתיבה של סופר, רק חבל שהקריאה בספר מעניקה הרגשה של טיוטא לספר שלא הבשיל לכלל מלוא הפוטנציאל שלו.
הסופר, בשיא פריחתו מהרהר בדמויות בעלילה שנרקמת במוחו. הספר מתווה את תהליך גיבוש העלילה ואת ההאינטראקציה עם הקוראים המסוקרנים, כששיאו של הספר הוא כשלון תהליך האהבים של הסופר עם רחל, מעריצה של ספריו.
הספר סתמי, חלול, חסר אמירה וחסר עיניין. כל הדמויות בו שטוחות ולא מצליחות לעורר בי כקוראת שום רגש. שיאו של הספר מיותר, פורנוגרפיה זולה שלא משתלבת בכלום. האהבים שמתנה הסופר עם הקוראת שלו נכשלים כי הם נועדו לכישלון כמו כל הספר הסתמי הזה.
עמוס עוז יודע לצרף מילים, אבל הצירוף הזה למרות שהוא מצויין טכנית, עקר ונבוב רגשית. ספר יומרני החל משמו "חרוזי החיים והמוות" שאין לו שום קשר לא לחיים ולא למוות וכלה בעלילה הקלושה.
הסופר, בשיא פריחתו מהרהר בדמויות בעלילה שנרקמת במוחו. הספר מתווה את תהליך גיבוש העלילה ואת ההאינטראקציה עם הקוראים המסוקרנים, כששיאו של הספר הוא כשלון תהליך האהבים של הסופר עם רחל, מעריצה של ספריו.
הספר סתמי, חלול, חסר אמירה וחסר עיניין. כל הדמויות בו שטוחות ולא מצליחות לעורר בי כקוראת שום רגש. שיאו של הספר מיותר, פורנוגרפיה זולה שלא משתלבת בכלום. האהבים שמתנה הסופר עם הקוראת שלו נכשלים כי הם נועדו לכישלון כמו כל הספר הסתמי הזה.
עמוס עוז יודע לצרף מילים, אבל הצירוף הזה למרות שהוא מצויין טכנית, עקר ונבוב רגשית. ספר יומרני החל משמו "חרוזי החיים והמוות" שאין לו שום קשר לא לחיים ולא למוות וכלה בעלילה הקלושה.
October 16, 2015
3.5/5
Ο Αμος Οζ (τι όνομα!) γράφει ενα μυθιστόρημα σαν παιχνίδι, σαν πείραμα για το πως στήνει τους χαρακτηρες του ο ήρωας-συγγραφέας αυτού του πολύ ωραίου κ συνοπτικού κειμένου.
Είμαστε στις αρχές της δεκαετίας του 80 κ ο ήρωας ετοιμάζεται να παει σε μια ακόμα παρουσίαση του καινούργιου του βιβλίου. Ειναι επιτυχημένος κ θα ήθελε να μην το κάνει. Ταυτόχρονα όμως κ για τις επόμενες 8 ώρες δίνει βιογραφικά στοιχεία στους ανθρώπους που συναντάει κ φαντάζεται τις ζωές τους καθώς κ τους διαλόγους που κάνει μαζί τους. Ο μικρός επίδοξος ποιητής, η σεξι σερβιτόρα, ο ρημαγμένος μοναχικός άνθρωπος που ζει με την παράλυτη μητέρα του σε ενα πρώην καθαριστηριο, ο άνεργος υπάλληλος που προπςαθει να αποδείξει πως υπάρχει αιώνια ζωή (αν εξαλείψουμε το σεξ ως μεςο αναπαραγωγής) , η ´οχι κ τοσο ελκυστική´ Ρουχαλε με την οποία φαντάζεται μια υπέροχη ερωτική σκηνή που δεν ολοκληρώνεται ποτε, ειναι ενα μικρό μόνο μέρος των ανθρώπων που συναντάς στις μολις 170 σελίδες του βιβλίου
Δαβαζεται με μια ανάσα κ νιώθεις συνέχεια ότι αυτός ο υπέροχος συγγραφέας αποκαλύπτει τον τροπο με τον οποίο οργανώνει τις δουλειές του, διορθώνοντας κ εξελίσσοντας τις ιστορίες που συγκροτούν τα αμέτρητα βιβλια του.
Ο Αμος Οζ (τι όνομα!) γράφει ενα μυθιστόρημα σαν παιχνίδι, σαν πείραμα για το πως στήνει τους χαρακτηρες του ο ήρωας-συγγραφέας αυτού του πολύ ωραίου κ συνοπτικού κειμένου.
Είμαστε στις αρχές της δεκαετίας του 80 κ ο ήρωας ετοιμάζεται να παει σε μια ακόμα παρουσίαση του καινούργιου του βιβλίου. Ειναι επιτυχημένος κ θα ήθελε να μην το κάνει. Ταυτόχρονα όμως κ για τις επόμενες 8 ώρες δίνει βιογραφικά στοιχεία στους ανθρώπους που συναντάει κ φαντάζεται τις ζωές τους καθώς κ τους διαλόγους που κάνει μαζί τους. Ο μικρός επίδοξος ποιητής, η σεξι σερβιτόρα, ο ρημαγμένος μοναχικός άνθρωπος που ζει με την παράλυτη μητέρα του σε ενα πρώην καθαριστηριο, ο άνεργος υπάλληλος που προπςαθει να αποδείξει πως υπάρχει αιώνια ζωή (αν εξαλείψουμε το σεξ ως μεςο αναπαραγωγής) , η ´οχι κ τοσο ελκυστική´ Ρουχαλε με την οποία φαντάζεται μια υπέροχη ερωτική σκηνή που δεν ολοκληρώνεται ποτε, ειναι ενα μικρό μόνο μέρος των ανθρώπων που συναντάς στις μολις 170 σελίδες του βιβλίου
Δαβαζεται με μια ανάσα κ νιώθεις συνέχεια ότι αυτός ο υπέροχος συγγραφέας αποκαλύπτει τον τροπο με τον οποίο οργανώνει τις δουλειές του, διορθώνοντας κ εξελίσσοντας τις ιστορίες που συγκροτούν τα αμέτρητα βιβλια του.
February 8, 2021
Što sve pisac,jednog sasvim običnog dana,može zapaziti,izmaštati,iskonstruirati o životima pojedinaca koje susreće u gostioni,na književnoj večeri ili kasnovečernjoj šetnji gradom!
Priče samo teku...
“No ipak nastavlja promatrati i pisati o njima kako bi ih dodirnuo bez dodira,i kako bi oni njega dodirnuli ,a da ga ne dodirnu stvarno.”
To je Amos:-)
Priče samo teku...
“No ipak nastavlja promatrati i pisati o njima kako bi ih dodirnuo bez dodira,i kako bi oni njega dodirnuli ,a da ga ne dodirnu stvarno.”
To je Amos:-)
April 19, 2014
Бавно расте обичта ми към Амос Оз. Началото - преди 3 години, с 2 книги („Моят Михаел“ и „Познание за жена“), със „средните“ 3 звезди (може да са 3,5, може да са и 4 сега). Колкото да усетя, че е като за мен, но не чак толкова, че да се захласна тогава. Преоткриването стана с „Между приятели“. Слагам я между любимите си ако не 10, то поне 20 книги… След „Между приятели“ очаквах, че съм прочела вече това, което може да ми хареса най-много от един автор. Много се зарадвах, че „Животът и смъртта в рими“ е съвсем различна книга. Обичам да е различно, ново. Ако мога да групирам „Моят Михаел“ и „Познание за жена“ като леко сходни, както и „Между приятели“ и „Сцени от живота на село“ вероятно, то настоящата книга разграничавам като различна.
Заради първите три прочетени книги Амос Оз е от онези „топли“ мои любими човекописатели – Ерик-Еманюел Шмит, Уилиам Уортън. С последните две (тази и „Как да излекуваме фанатик“) вече с важния за мен плюс е като „умниците“ – Милан Кундера, Салман Рушди. Със собствен стил и с позиции по по-глобални и многобройни въпроси…
В „Животът и смъртта в рими“ бях спечелена още с появата на литературния критик по време на представяне на книга на автора/героя. :)))
„[…] границите на легитимността, йерархията на конвенциите и интертекстуалния контекст, откъдето има само една малка крачка до формалистичните, псевдоархаичните и съвременните политически аспекти на творбата. Доколко основателни са тези латентни аспекти? И дали изобщо могат да се разглеждат като кохерентни? Синхронни ли са, или диахронни? Дисхармонични или полифонични?“
Но най-вече с това, което започна да прави авторът-герой по време на представянето и в цялата книга до края… Завесата на писането се открехна и се разходих в нощта, сътворила животи и романи. Книгата е с малък обем, но нямах време за четене и за първи път в най-противното ми място – НАП — исках да има опашка, за да мога да почета…
„Когато беше на шестнайсет-седемнайсет, на възрастта на младия поет Ювал, нощем авторът се скриваше в едно празно хранилище и запълваше лист след лист с объркани недовършени разкази. В известен смисъл за него писането не се различаваше особено от отдаването на мечти и мастурбирането: смесица от непреодолима вътрешна потребност, въодушевление, възторг, отчаяние, отвращение и страдание. Освен това тогава го мъчеше неустоимо любопитство да разбере защо хората се нараняват помежду си и нараняват самите себе си, без да го искат.“
Достатъчно чаках да расте обичта ми към Амос Оз и сега спонтанно я отприщих. 5 звезди заради натрупването, 5 звезди заради „да виждаш другия, да си представяш другия“. Може да се счита и за 3,5 звезди, ако липсва точно това привличане или „виждането“ не е толкова важно за читателя… Не искам да чакам да сравнявам с другите му произведения „дали няма да са още пó“ и да си пазя петиците за тях. Нали точно така обичам в книгите и в живота – фантазиране, сливане, бавно, тихо и свободно разхождане на мисълта… Кое е литература, кое е реалност – какво значение има… ?! :)))
„Я да видим… И сега не знаеш дори? Дори не знаеш и сега? И сега дори не знаеш? И дори сега не знаеш? Не знаеш и дори сега? Не знаеш дори и сега? И не знаеш дори сега? Дори и сега не знаеш? Не, и сега дори знаеш? Моля, зачеркнете грешните варианти.“
И винаги, когато имам нахалството да пиша и оценявам творбите на авторите, се чувствам и малко така:
„Да пишеш за нещата, които съществуват, да се опитваш да хванеш цвета, миризмата или звука в думи, е малко като да свириш Шуберт, когато знаеш, че Шуберт седи в залата и навярно се подсмихва в мрака.“
Не на последно място – харесаха ми смисълът и отразяването на всяка думичка от заглавието.
Заради първите три прочетени книги Амос Оз е от онези „топли“ мои любими човекописатели – Ерик-Еманюел Шмит, Уилиам Уортън. С последните две (тази и „Как да излекуваме фанатик“) вече с важния за мен плюс е като „умниците“ – Милан Кундера, Салман Рушди. Със собствен стил и с позиции по по-глобални и многобройни въпроси…
В „Животът и смъртта в рими“ бях спечелена още с появата на литературния критик по време на представяне на книга на автора/героя. :)))
„[…] границите на легитимността, йерархията на конвенциите и интертекстуалния контекст, откъдето има само една малка крачка до формалистичните, псевдоархаичните и съвременните политически аспекти на творбата. Доколко основателни са тези латентни аспекти? И дали изобщо могат да се разглеждат като кохерентни? Синхронни ли са, или диахронни? Дисхармонични или полифонични?“
Но най-вече с това, което започна да прави авторът-герой по време на представянето и в цялата книга до края… Завесата на писането се открехна и се разходих в нощта, сътворила животи и романи. Книгата е с малък обем, но нямах време за четене и за първи път в най-противното ми място – НАП — исках да има опашка, за да мога да почета…
„Когато беше на шестнайсет-седемнайсет, на възрастта на младия поет Ювал, нощем авторът се скриваше в едно празно хранилище и запълваше лист след лист с объркани недовършени разкази. В известен смисъл за него писането не се различаваше особено от отдаването на мечти и мастурбирането: смесица от непреодолима вътрешна потребност, въодушевление, възторг, отчаяние, отвращение и страдание. Освен това тогава го мъчеше неустоимо любопитство да разбере защо хората се нараняват помежду си и нараняват самите себе си, без да го искат.“
Достатъчно чаках да расте обичта ми към Амос Оз и сега спонтанно я отприщих. 5 звезди заради натрупването, 5 звезди заради „да виждаш другия, да си представяш другия“. Може да се счита и за 3,5 звезди, ако липсва точно това привличане или „виждането“ не е толкова важно за читателя… Не искам да чакам да сравнявам с другите му произведения „дали няма да са още пó“ и да си пазя петиците за тях. Нали точно така обичам в книгите и в живота – фантазиране, сливане, бавно, тихо и свободно разхождане на мисълта… Кое е литература, кое е реалност – какво значение има… ?! :)))
„Я да видим… И сега не знаеш дори? Дори не знаеш и сега? И сега дори не знаеш? И дори сега не знаеш? Не знаеш и дори сега? Не знаеш дори и сега? И не знаеш дори сега? Дори и сега не знаеш? Не, и сега дори знаеш? Моля, зачеркнете грешните варианти.“
И винаги, когато имам нахалството да пиша и оценявам творбите на авторите, се чувствам и малко така:
„Да пишеш за нещата, които съществуват, да се опитваш да хванеш цвета, миризмата или звука в думи, е малко като да свириш Шуберт, когато знаеш, че Шуберт седи в залата и навярно се подсмихва в мрака.“
Не на последно място – харесаха ми смисълът и отразяването на всяка думичка от заглавието.
November 25, 2012
The book is a fascinating look at writing, life and death, fantasy and reality, and the comparison of how opposites need each other in order to complete the whole. The protagonist is known as The Author, and we never learn his true name. The use of third person narration is subjective in Rhyming Life & Death.
This form of narration affords us to be inside the mind of The Author, and we know his thoughts and feelings. This format is perfect for the novel, in that it exposes the immediate train of thought of The Author. He is a man who is bored with the task at hand (before it even begins), that of having to attend a literary event where there will be a reading of his work, and he will speak and answer questions regarding his writing.
I won’t go into the descriptions of the characters The Author develops, as the book is a slim volume, and I would give the entire story away. Suffice it to say that there are some interesting individuals in the story, and there are both humorous and poignant moments. Oz is incredible with his vivid and detailed imagery, leaving nothing to the reader’s imagination.
The Author’s stories are just that, stories, and most do not have a plot, but are a form of amusement for him. There is a often a fine line between reality and fantasy, and in Rhyming Life & Death, it is often difficult to separate the facts from the imaginary. They often seem as one, and at times it appears that the characters seemingly have taken on a life of their own, within The Author’s mind.
OZ has done it again. In my opinion Rhyming Life & Death is a powerful book (although some might not think so, as it can seem disjointed), and one that is an illumination on writing and on reading, and on life and death. It is almost as if Oz is assailing or ridiculing writing itself, or at least the process of writing and being published, and the effects of the endeavor, both during and after. That is the beauty of Amos Oz, his ability to infuse the absurd within the pages, to leave beginnings with no endings, and yet brilliantly show that clarity of mind can coexist with one’s imagination. “Once in a while it is worth turning on the light to clarify what is going on“.
This form of narration affords us to be inside the mind of The Author, and we know his thoughts and feelings. This format is perfect for the novel, in that it exposes the immediate train of thought of The Author. He is a man who is bored with the task at hand (before it even begins), that of having to attend a literary event where there will be a reading of his work, and he will speak and answer questions regarding his writing.
I won’t go into the descriptions of the characters The Author develops, as the book is a slim volume, and I would give the entire story away. Suffice it to say that there are some interesting individuals in the story, and there are both humorous and poignant moments. Oz is incredible with his vivid and detailed imagery, leaving nothing to the reader’s imagination.
The Author’s stories are just that, stories, and most do not have a plot, but are a form of amusement for him. There is a often a fine line between reality and fantasy, and in Rhyming Life & Death, it is often difficult to separate the facts from the imaginary. They often seem as one, and at times it appears that the characters seemingly have taken on a life of their own, within The Author’s mind.
OZ has done it again. In my opinion Rhyming Life & Death is a powerful book (although some might not think so, as it can seem disjointed), and one that is an illumination on writing and on reading, and on life and death. It is almost as if Oz is assailing or ridiculing writing itself, or at least the process of writing and being published, and the effects of the endeavor, both during and after. That is the beauty of Amos Oz, his ability to infuse the absurd within the pages, to leave beginnings with no endings, and yet brilliantly show that clarity of mind can coexist with one’s imagination. “Once in a while it is worth turning on the light to clarify what is going on“.
August 6, 2020
124th book of 2020.
Author has a reading coming up and isn't sure how he's going to answer the questions. The novel opens with Author sitting in a bar; he begins to imagines the lives of the people around him, as I'm sure many of us have done ourselves. Look at his clothes, let's imagine his job; maybe his wife hates him; maybe his daughter hates him; maybe he's having an affair, or maybe he's loyal and loving and happy. The premise of this short experimental novel is exactly that: Imagining. What Oz challenges though is where does reality stop and where does Author's imaginations begin? At the reading his life-creating continues - the woman reading his work gets a backstory, the sickly man in the audience, the laughing man at the back.
The novel is self-aware, a little satirical. Author goes home with the girl from the reading, or does he? Not only does he spin an imaginary life or event, he creates multiple. In one, she opens the door. In another she is not home. In another she refuses him. The lives of his invented characters begin to crossover, and soon it gets more muddled, with him, the spinster, the spider, in the middle of the web. It is sly, Kundera-esque. It is witty, full of sex. The theory of the novel is interesting but in practice it becomes convoluted, spiralling into madness... Perhaps Oz planned it that way.
Author has a reading coming up and isn't sure how he's going to answer the questions. The novel opens with Author sitting in a bar; he begins to imagines the lives of the people around him, as I'm sure many of us have done ourselves. Look at his clothes, let's imagine his job; maybe his wife hates him; maybe his daughter hates him; maybe he's having an affair, or maybe he's loyal and loving and happy. The premise of this short experimental novel is exactly that: Imagining. What Oz challenges though is where does reality stop and where does Author's imaginations begin? At the reading his life-creating continues - the woman reading his work gets a backstory, the sickly man in the audience, the laughing man at the back.
The novel is self-aware, a little satirical. Author goes home with the girl from the reading, or does he? Not only does he spin an imaginary life or event, he creates multiple. In one, she opens the door. In another she is not home. In another she refuses him. The lives of his invented characters begin to crossover, and soon it gets more muddled, with him, the spinster, the spider, in the middle of the web. It is sly, Kundera-esque. It is witty, full of sex. The theory of the novel is interesting but in practice it becomes convoluted, spiralling into madness... Perhaps Oz planned it that way.
January 2, 2025
Volim kako Amos Oz piše. Radnja ove knjige se događa u Tel Avivu. Ustvari, sve je imaginacija glavnog lika - ostarelog pisca koji u svojoj glavi pravi scenarije za sve ljude koje vidi i susreće, izmišlja im imena i životne puteve, pa se ne zna ni naslutiti što je stvarno, a što piščeva mašta. Ali, baš mi se sve dopalo.
October 2, 2018
I received a copy of Amos Oz's Rhyming Life and Death from a dear friend for my birthday. I had not read any of prizewinning author Oz's work before, and was suitably intrigued by the blurb of this novel, which was first published in 2007, and has been translated from its original Hebrew by Nicholas Lange. The Guardian calls Rhyming Life and Death 'A master class in interlocking character sketches, and a fable on the themes of sex, death and writing pitched somewhere between the fictional universes of JM Coetzee and Milan Kundera.' The Scotsman declares it 'a meditation on the art of writing, the relationship between literature and life, between life and death.'
In the novel, which is set during the 1980s, an unnamed author spends a window of time, before he is due to give a reading, waiting in a bar in Tel Aviv 'on a stifling hot night', making up 'the life stories of the people he meets.' The story culminates in his asking a woman who declares herself a huge fan of his work for a drink. Although she declines, he 'walks away, only to climb the steps to her flat that night. Or does he? In Amos Oz's beguiling, intriguing story the reader never really knows where reality ends and invention begins...'.
Rhyming Life and Death opens with a wealth of frequently asked questions which have been posed to 'the Author', as he is referred to throughout. They include: 'Why do you write the way you do?', 'Do you constantly cross out and correct or do you write straight out of your head?', and 'Why do you mostly describe the negative side of things?' There are many such questions, and a lot of them cross the line between public and personal.
Oz's writing errs on the sensual. He seems particularly concerned with evoking the smells of Tel Aviv. Of a man lying in the terminal ward of a hospital, he writes: 'With every breath his lungs are invaded by a foul cocktail of smells: urine, sedatives, leftover food, sweat, sprays, chlorine, medicines, soiled dressings, excrement, beetroot salad and disinfectant.' Sounds, too, are important to Oz's descriptions of Israel, and they are paired in the novel with musings about the Author, and the strange power which his fans believe him to possess: 'The night is pierced by the staccato alarm of a parked car struck by sudden panic in the darkness. Will the Author say something new this evening? Will he manage to explain to us how we got into this state of affairs, or what we have to do to change it? Can he see something we haven't seen yet?'
In this novel, Oz certainly gives insight into elements of what it is like to be a writer, and to be known. The public throughout have quite unrealistic expectations of him, as, indeed, he has of others. The stories which he invents of people whom he meets are often overly detailed. I found some of these inventions more interesting than others, but the constant repetition of details did become tiresome rather quickly. There are scenes here which are rather cringeworthy, and crammed with a series of cliched metaphors.
Whilst the novel was interesting enough to read, and I could never quite guess in which direction it was going, it has not made me want to pick up any of Oz's other work in a hurry. I found Rhyming Life and Death rather rambling and peculiar in places, and the story meanders rather than takes a natural path. There is, however, a definite feeling of purpose to Oz's chosen structure. The novel is gritty at times, and muses upon the meaning of life. I can certainly see why his writing has been compared to Kundera's, but I must admit that on my experience of reading this book alone, I far prefer Kundera's work to Oz's.
In the novel, which is set during the 1980s, an unnamed author spends a window of time, before he is due to give a reading, waiting in a bar in Tel Aviv 'on a stifling hot night', making up 'the life stories of the people he meets.' The story culminates in his asking a woman who declares herself a huge fan of his work for a drink. Although she declines, he 'walks away, only to climb the steps to her flat that night. Or does he? In Amos Oz's beguiling, intriguing story the reader never really knows where reality ends and invention begins...'.
Rhyming Life and Death opens with a wealth of frequently asked questions which have been posed to 'the Author', as he is referred to throughout. They include: 'Why do you write the way you do?', 'Do you constantly cross out and correct or do you write straight out of your head?', and 'Why do you mostly describe the negative side of things?' There are many such questions, and a lot of them cross the line between public and personal.
Oz's writing errs on the sensual. He seems particularly concerned with evoking the smells of Tel Aviv. Of a man lying in the terminal ward of a hospital, he writes: 'With every breath his lungs are invaded by a foul cocktail of smells: urine, sedatives, leftover food, sweat, sprays, chlorine, medicines, soiled dressings, excrement, beetroot salad and disinfectant.' Sounds, too, are important to Oz's descriptions of Israel, and they are paired in the novel with musings about the Author, and the strange power which his fans believe him to possess: 'The night is pierced by the staccato alarm of a parked car struck by sudden panic in the darkness. Will the Author say something new this evening? Will he manage to explain to us how we got into this state of affairs, or what we have to do to change it? Can he see something we haven't seen yet?'
In this novel, Oz certainly gives insight into elements of what it is like to be a writer, and to be known. The public throughout have quite unrealistic expectations of him, as, indeed, he has of others. The stories which he invents of people whom he meets are often overly detailed. I found some of these inventions more interesting than others, but the constant repetition of details did become tiresome rather quickly. There are scenes here which are rather cringeworthy, and crammed with a series of cliched metaphors.
Whilst the novel was interesting enough to read, and I could never quite guess in which direction it was going, it has not made me want to pick up any of Oz's other work in a hurry. I found Rhyming Life and Death rather rambling and peculiar in places, and the story meanders rather than takes a natural path. There is, however, a definite feeling of purpose to Oz's chosen structure. The novel is gritty at times, and muses upon the meaning of life. I can certainly see why his writing has been compared to Kundera's, but I must admit that on my experience of reading this book alone, I far prefer Kundera's work to Oz's.
July 6, 2022
"O utangaç solgunluğunun ardında muhtemelen ateşli bir istek, çocuksu bir masumiyet, doyurulmamış arzu ve hayranlık ile şükrandan çağlayıp gelen sessiz, ihtiraslı, itaatkâr bir teslimiyetin karışımı saklanmaktaydı. Orada tam parmaklarının ucundaydı, avucunun içinde yumuşacık atmaktaydı ve sen kaçmasına izin verdin. Sersem."
"Sendika hareketi artık eskisi gibi değil; ülke artık görev bilinciyle hareket eden ve sıradan insanlara ulaşıp onların kültür seviyelerini artırmaya yönelik ahlaki sorumluluk taşıyan kültür komisyonlarına sahip işçi konseyleri yerine fakir ülkelerden hizmetçiler ve sorunlu işçiler ithal eden kurnaz danışmanlık şirketleri ve köle tacirleriyle dolu."
"Belki de Yazar'ın kafası karışık ve utanç içinde, çünkü onun için sadece kitaplarında kullanılmak üzere var olmuşlar gibi insanları uzaktan, kulisten gözlemliyor. Ve bu utanca, dokunamadan ve dokunulamadan, hep dışarıda kalmanın derin hüznü eşlik ediyor. Hazreti Lût'un karısı gibi, arkana bakmadan yazamazsın.
Ve bunu yaparak kendini ve onları tuz kütlelerine dönüştürürsün.
Var olan şeyler hakkında yazmak, bir rengi ya da kokuyu kelimelerle yakalamaya çalışmak, biraz Schubert salonda otururken ve belki karanlıkta kıs kıs gülmekteyken Schubert çalmaya benzer."
"Sendika hareketi artık eskisi gibi değil; ülke artık görev bilinciyle hareket eden ve sıradan insanlara ulaşıp onların kültür seviyelerini artırmaya yönelik ahlaki sorumluluk taşıyan kültür komisyonlarına sahip işçi konseyleri yerine fakir ülkelerden hizmetçiler ve sorunlu işçiler ithal eden kurnaz danışmanlık şirketleri ve köle tacirleriyle dolu."
"Belki de Yazar'ın kafası karışık ve utanç içinde, çünkü onun için sadece kitaplarında kullanılmak üzere var olmuşlar gibi insanları uzaktan, kulisten gözlemliyor. Ve bu utanca, dokunamadan ve dokunulamadan, hep dışarıda kalmanın derin hüznü eşlik ediyor. Hazreti Lût'un karısı gibi, arkana bakmadan yazamazsın.
Ve bunu yaparak kendini ve onları tuz kütlelerine dönüştürürsün.
Var olan şeyler hakkında yazmak, bir rengi ya da kokuyu kelimelerle yakalamaya çalışmak, biraz Schubert salonda otururken ve belki karanlıkta kıs kıs gülmekteyken Schubert çalmaya benzer."
February 4, 2010
My gut feeling is that this will be a bit of a love-it-or-loathe-it kind of a book. Personally I loved it. I could have written it. I wish I had. Now I can't. Damn. But the lack of a real plot will drive some people mad. Some of the Author's musings actually pan out into short stories but most are just character sketches that simply merge into one another. And then it just stops. Well, it doesn't really but it reaches a point where the author is stopped in his tracks; someone is dead – what more is there to imagine?
I can't envisage a writer not enjoying this book. I can't speak for non-writers but they're not that different from us I've found, desperately curious about other people. Why would shows like Big Brother attract such large audiences if we didn't all have the 'peeping Tom' gene? We writers can't content ourselves with spying; we need take notes and write them up later.
You can read a full review on my blog here
I can't envisage a writer not enjoying this book. I can't speak for non-writers but they're not that different from us I've found, desperately curious about other people. Why would shows like Big Brother attract such large audiences if we didn't all have the 'peeping Tom' gene? We writers can't content ourselves with spying; we need take notes and write them up later.
You can read a full review on my blog here
September 29, 2021
Ο μεγάλος συγγραφέας φαίνεται ακόμη και σε ένα μικρό βιβλίο... Θα μπορούσε να είναι υποχρεωτικό ανάγνωσμα σε μάθημα δημιουργικής γραφής.
June 27, 2011
Денонощието на един застаряващ писател- трябва да си Амос Оз, за да напишеш великолепна книга върху този сюжет:-)). Харесвам го, защото ми прави близки възможно най-тривиалните битовизми със своя леко самоироничен,леко тъжен, леко критичен поглед. 150 страници, изпълнени с характеристични герои от литературния живот на Израел и една почти не-носталгична нишка на "римите на живота и смъртта"- отглас от популярна битова поезия, който сякаш символизира преходността на временната известност.
С две думи, много ми хареса:-)). В моята лична "Оз" класация я слагам след "История за мрак и любов" и "Черната кутия".
С две думи, много ми хареса:-)). В моята лична "Оз" класация я слагам след "История за мрак и любов" и "Черната кутия".
December 5, 2009
Кратка книга, но пък се чете на един дъх. Интересно е да влезеш в главата на някой и да видиш как възприема целия свят около себеи си, какво мисли и как го изменя.
December 19, 2017
3.5
100 pagine di viaggio nella mente di uno scrittore: fatti concreti (un incontro letterario, una tormentata passeggiata solitaria a seguire) e un sostanzioso contorno immaginario fatto della vita che lo scrittore ha attribuito a personaggi incontrati casualmente durante le poche ore che impiega la sua immaginazione a saziarsi - e, chi lo sa, forse qualcosa di vero su di loro lo ha anche azzeccato. Realtà e fantasia si confondono, e alla fine non si capisce bene cosa sia successo davvero e cosa no.
Molto originale dal punto di vista stilistico, interessanti le considerazioni dello scrittore riguardo la propria professione, niente di speciale dal punto di vista di storia raccontata.
100 pagine di viaggio nella mente di uno scrittore: fatti concreti (un incontro letterario, una tormentata passeggiata solitaria a seguire) e un sostanzioso contorno immaginario fatto della vita che lo scrittore ha attribuito a personaggi incontrati casualmente durante le poche ore che impiega la sua immaginazione a saziarsi - e, chi lo sa, forse qualcosa di vero su di loro lo ha anche azzeccato. Realtà e fantasia si confondono, e alla fine non si capisce bene cosa sia successo davvero e cosa no.
Molto originale dal punto di vista stilistico, interessanti le considerazioni dello scrittore riguardo la propria professione, niente di speciale dal punto di vista di storia raccontata.
January 19, 2019
It's a perfectly well-written book...but one that didn't speak to me at all, and felt like a chore to read. So much so that I gave up after a disinterested 60 pages. I simply couldn't muster any enthusiasm for what was going on. Just one of those books that will legitimately give other people enjoyment, but to me was nothing more than wallpaper.
February 27, 2021
I am glad to have ended this chapter so I can move on and forget what a creep the Author is. Almost DNF-ed it...
I’m giving this book 1 star, as opposed to 0, because it had a few well written passages.
Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk
I’m giving this book 1 star, as opposed to 0, because it had a few well written passages.
Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk
January 24, 2019
To co w prozie izraelskiej najlepsze, czyli ogranymi motywami jak w tym wypadku "pisaniem o pisaniu".
March 1, 2011
OK, recunosc, nu ma asteptam sa-mi placa intr-atat de mult Rime despre viata si moarte. Da, am gasit-o bazata pe o idee interesanta, dar am crezut ca, timp de 170 de pagini, voi citi si aberatii. Mai sunt unele momente de ratacire, pe ici, pe colo, dar asa are fiecare autor, cred eu. In orice caz... cuvintele nu sunt de ajuns pentru a descrie cat de mult am apreciat-o.
De data asta, descrierea de pe toate site-urile e satisfacatoare, anume ca un scriitor invitat la o conferinta de presa incepe sa-si imagineze posibile scenarii despre persoanele aflate in public. Da, e adevarat, dar si despre cele pe care le cunoaste inainte de conferinta propriu-zisa, cand merge intr-o cafenea si admira indelung coapsele superbe ale chelneritei, felul in care i se asaza chilotii pe fund, decolteul pe care-l intrezareste in momentul in care-i ofera cafeaua..si-asa mai departe. Pe seama ei construieste, ulterior, o intreaga poveste despre dragoste si inselare, despre o aventura fulminanta, petrecuta in urma cu mai bine de 15 ani, intre ea si un jucator sportiv relativ cunoscut. Partea asta e agreabila, da. Insa ceea ce m-a frapat si, am sa recunosc, m-a surprins placut, a fost momentul in care scriitorul nostru [al carui nume nu e pomenit nicaieri, dar eu banuiesc ca ar fi insusi Amos Oz] profita, indirect, de admiratia pe care o resimte o femeie din public pentru el, in asa fel incat cei doi ajung sa-si petreaca noaptea impreuna. Sau nu. Totul e posibil, in acest mic roman, tocmai de asta mi-a si placut intr-atat!
Mi-a venit destul de greu sa ma obisnuiesc cu denumirile si numele personajelor, deoarece actiunea se petrece in Israel, iar numele israelene sunt cam dificile de pronuntat. Daca sunteti pudici sau extrem de conservatori, nu cititi aceasta carte, date fiind detaliile senzuale pe care le evoca, care-s absolut delicioase si sincere, si care par intr-atat de firesti incat nu poti incadra romanul in categoria 'porcoasa'. Urmatorul paragraf mi se pare stralucit din punct de vedere al imaginilor pe care le pune la punct - nu stiu daca va amintiti prima bucatica din filmul Le fabuleux destin d'Amelie Poulain, dar e cea in care naratorul arata obiceiurile preferate ale personajelor principale, si le prezinta atat de succint si corect, incat asa mi-am imaginat si eu, la randul meu, urmatoarele actiuni si decoruri.
Ai putea sa zabovesti putin in acest punct, pentru a incerca sa zugravesti cateva dintre deprinderile acestui personaj, deprinderi care se vor intipari in mintea cititorilor: ca, de exemplu, obiceiul de a linge cu patima, cu toata limba, fasia aceea de lipici de pe interiorul plicurilor, ca si cum ar fi o bomboana. Yeruham Sdemati linge cu pofta si timbrele, salivand abundent, cu o placere rusinoasa, pentru ca imediat dupa aceea, sa le lipeasca pe plic, apasandu-le cu o lovitura naprasnica de pumn, care o face pe Miriam Nehorait sa tremure, dar ii place si 'latura lui salbatica ascunsa'.
Ridica receptorul telefonului imediat dupa primul tarait, cu un gest larg, luandu-si avant, ca si cum s-ar pregati sa arunce o piatra, si spune: Da, va rog, aici Sdemati, cu cine vorbesc, va rog? [...]
Yeruham Sdemati are aproape intotdeauna vanatai albastrui in coate, pe frunte, pe spate sau pe coapse, rezultat al obiceiului sau de a ignora obiectele inanimate si de a incerca sa treaca prin ele ca si cum ar fi facute din aer. Sau poate, din contra, obiectele inanimate, manate de vechi resentimente, il ranesc ori de cate ori au ocazia: spatarul scaunului il ataca si isi arata coltii catre el, coltul dulapului din bucatarie ii loveste fruntea, o felie de paine unsa cu miere cade pe scaunul lui exact inainte sa se aseze, coada pisicii sfarseste intotdeauna sub talpa pantofului sau, iar cana cu ceai fierbinte i se varsa pe pantaloni.
In clipa aceea, in mintea scriitorului revine si flutura pret de o clipa imaginea acelui individ aflat pe patul de moarte, Ovdeia Hazam, cel care si-a trait viata ca un rege, dar ce spun eu ca un rege, ca un lord, care a colindat dintr-un loc in altul, s-a imbogatit si a divortat, care se plimba prin tot orasul in Buickul lui albastru, insotit mereu de catre o rusoaica blonda, batea pe toata lumea pe umar si ragaia zgomotos, caruia ii facea intotdeauna placere sa ii imbratiseze si sa ii sarute chiar si pe straini, barbati si femei deopotriva, ale carui hohote de sanatoase de ras faceau ferestrele din jurul lui sa vibreze, pentru ca acum sa zaca intr-un salon al sectiei de medicina interna al spitalului Yehilov, cu cateterul desprins si cazut de la locul sau, in timp ce asistenta de garda noaptea aceasta este prea departe pentru a-i auzi geamatul slab - va renunta si se va zvarcoli in balta de urina amestecata cu sange negru; urina calda, acida, murdara, se raceste repede si ii urca printre coapse, lipindu-i pielea de pe spinare de cearsaful ud.
Va zic, magnifica. Mi-a adus aminte de Saramago, intr-o oarecare masura, in ceea ce priveste 'the flow of thoughts kind of writing'.
De data asta, descrierea de pe toate site-urile e satisfacatoare, anume ca un scriitor invitat la o conferinta de presa incepe sa-si imagineze posibile scenarii despre persoanele aflate in public. Da, e adevarat, dar si despre cele pe care le cunoaste inainte de conferinta propriu-zisa, cand merge intr-o cafenea si admira indelung coapsele superbe ale chelneritei, felul in care i se asaza chilotii pe fund, decolteul pe care-l intrezareste in momentul in care-i ofera cafeaua..si-asa mai departe. Pe seama ei construieste, ulterior, o intreaga poveste despre dragoste si inselare, despre o aventura fulminanta, petrecuta in urma cu mai bine de 15 ani, intre ea si un jucator sportiv relativ cunoscut. Partea asta e agreabila, da. Insa ceea ce m-a frapat si, am sa recunosc, m-a surprins placut, a fost momentul in care scriitorul nostru [al carui nume nu e pomenit nicaieri, dar eu banuiesc ca ar fi insusi Amos Oz] profita, indirect, de admiratia pe care o resimte o femeie din public pentru el, in asa fel incat cei doi ajung sa-si petreaca noaptea impreuna. Sau nu. Totul e posibil, in acest mic roman, tocmai de asta mi-a si placut intr-atat!
Mi-a venit destul de greu sa ma obisnuiesc cu denumirile si numele personajelor, deoarece actiunea se petrece in Israel, iar numele israelene sunt cam dificile de pronuntat. Daca sunteti pudici sau extrem de conservatori, nu cititi aceasta carte, date fiind detaliile senzuale pe care le evoca, care-s absolut delicioase si sincere, si care par intr-atat de firesti incat nu poti incadra romanul in categoria 'porcoasa'. Urmatorul paragraf mi se pare stralucit din punct de vedere al imaginilor pe care le pune la punct - nu stiu daca va amintiti prima bucatica din filmul Le fabuleux destin d'Amelie Poulain, dar e cea in care naratorul arata obiceiurile preferate ale personajelor principale, si le prezinta atat de succint si corect, incat asa mi-am imaginat si eu, la randul meu, urmatoarele actiuni si decoruri.
Ai putea sa zabovesti putin in acest punct, pentru a incerca sa zugravesti cateva dintre deprinderile acestui personaj, deprinderi care se vor intipari in mintea cititorilor: ca, de exemplu, obiceiul de a linge cu patima, cu toata limba, fasia aceea de lipici de pe interiorul plicurilor, ca si cum ar fi o bomboana. Yeruham Sdemati linge cu pofta si timbrele, salivand abundent, cu o placere rusinoasa, pentru ca imediat dupa aceea, sa le lipeasca pe plic, apasandu-le cu o lovitura naprasnica de pumn, care o face pe Miriam Nehorait sa tremure, dar ii place si 'latura lui salbatica ascunsa'.
Ridica receptorul telefonului imediat dupa primul tarait, cu un gest larg, luandu-si avant, ca si cum s-ar pregati sa arunce o piatra, si spune: Da, va rog, aici Sdemati, cu cine vorbesc, va rog? [...]
Yeruham Sdemati are aproape intotdeauna vanatai albastrui in coate, pe frunte, pe spate sau pe coapse, rezultat al obiceiului sau de a ignora obiectele inanimate si de a incerca sa treaca prin ele ca si cum ar fi facute din aer. Sau poate, din contra, obiectele inanimate, manate de vechi resentimente, il ranesc ori de cate ori au ocazia: spatarul scaunului il ataca si isi arata coltii catre el, coltul dulapului din bucatarie ii loveste fruntea, o felie de paine unsa cu miere cade pe scaunul lui exact inainte sa se aseze, coada pisicii sfarseste intotdeauna sub talpa pantofului sau, iar cana cu ceai fierbinte i se varsa pe pantaloni.
In clipa aceea, in mintea scriitorului revine si flutura pret de o clipa imaginea acelui individ aflat pe patul de moarte, Ovdeia Hazam, cel care si-a trait viata ca un rege, dar ce spun eu ca un rege, ca un lord, care a colindat dintr-un loc in altul, s-a imbogatit si a divortat, care se plimba prin tot orasul in Buickul lui albastru, insotit mereu de catre o rusoaica blonda, batea pe toata lumea pe umar si ragaia zgomotos, caruia ii facea intotdeauna placere sa ii imbratiseze si sa ii sarute chiar si pe straini, barbati si femei deopotriva, ale carui hohote de sanatoase de ras faceau ferestrele din jurul lui sa vibreze, pentru ca acum sa zaca intr-un salon al sectiei de medicina interna al spitalului Yehilov, cu cateterul desprins si cazut de la locul sau, in timp ce asistenta de garda noaptea aceasta este prea departe pentru a-i auzi geamatul slab - va renunta si se va zvarcoli in balta de urina amestecata cu sange negru; urina calda, acida, murdara, se raceste repede si ii urca printre coapse, lipindu-i pielea de pe spinare de cearsaful ud.
Va zic, magnifica. Mi-a adus aminte de Saramago, intr-o oarecare masura, in ceea ce priveste 'the flow of thoughts kind of writing'.
January 7, 2019
To read this book is to transport yourself temporarily to another place. It is warm and humid, and the air-conditioning is unreliable. Filled with playfulness, 'the Author' is to give a talk at a cultural centre where many have gathered to hear him. Before, during, and after the engagement the Author tells us his thoughts and observations of the people he encounters and imagines, and how the evening transpires.
Arriving early he detours to a nearby cafe, and it becomes clear that this Author is preoccupied with the lives of the others he observes. Amos Oz teases us with the possibilities of those lives - where they live, who they live with, who they loved, what they lost, and even what may slowly be killing them. Later in the night, once the event is over, the Author escorts the professional reader for a walk before saying goodnight to her. What happens beyond that is uncertain. Oz playfully suggests one possibility while ruling out another. Just as things fall neatly into place, he goes back and shows a parallel reality.
I've read a few Oz books now and would say that this one has some passages I'd describe as 'classic Oz'. In places he is definitely in top gear as he supplies depth and intrigue to each and every character's life. At other times though it can feel that he has switched on the cruise control and taken his foot off the gas...
A short book, Oz manages to pack so much in to the story that it feels like much more than has actually been read. The cast is long, and it is wonderful how much substance he manages to convey in so short a time. There are stories within stories here, and the possibilities are endless. All in all a very enjoyable read, and one that will probably reveal more to the reader each time it is rediscovered. An intriguing glimpse inside the mind of an author and how they may see the world around them in all its triviality and beauty.
Arriving early he detours to a nearby cafe, and it becomes clear that this Author is preoccupied with the lives of the others he observes. Amos Oz teases us with the possibilities of those lives - where they live, who they live with, who they loved, what they lost, and even what may slowly be killing them. Later in the night, once the event is over, the Author escorts the professional reader for a walk before saying goodnight to her. What happens beyond that is uncertain. Oz playfully suggests one possibility while ruling out another. Just as things fall neatly into place, he goes back and shows a parallel reality.
I've read a few Oz books now and would say that this one has some passages I'd describe as 'classic Oz'. In places he is definitely in top gear as he supplies depth and intrigue to each and every character's life. At other times though it can feel that he has switched on the cruise control and taken his foot off the gas...
A short book, Oz manages to pack so much in to the story that it feels like much more than has actually been read. The cast is long, and it is wonderful how much substance he manages to convey in so short a time. There are stories within stories here, and the possibilities are endless. All in all a very enjoyable read, and one that will probably reveal more to the reader each time it is rediscovered. An intriguing glimpse inside the mind of an author and how they may see the world around them in all its triviality and beauty.
May 28, 2009
My reading of novelists frequently mentioned as potential Nobel Prize winners continues with the Israeli writer Amos Oz. I first became familiar with Oz when I read a dazzling section of his "A Tale of Love and Darkness," which I must return to one day. His most recent novel, "Rhyming Life and Death," is a small, wonderful homage to the blessing (or is it a curse?) of imagination, which becomes the bedrock of the "author," the novel's central character. The entire book takes place in the imagination of an author as he makes up stories and scenarios about an array of persons that simply pass before his eyes or sometimes just through his mind. These characters develop such a vivid life in the author's imagination that they even begin to imagine him, the whole world dissolving into little more than a network of narrative possibilities. But this book is more than just an enaging excursion into a writer's fertile imagination, it is also an amazingly warm and deeply humanistic work. One of his characters, a certain Pessach Yikhat suggests that "At the very least literature should not preen itself on mocking us and picking at our wounds, as modern writers in our age do ad nauseam" (p. 103). This is a book that does not pick at our wounds. The wounds are there to be sure, and the author sees them, but he has far too high an opinion of even the imagined life to become cruel or nasty . . . as in fact so many modern writers do.
April 29, 2014
Виртуозно свързване на нишки, герои, идеи и варианти за развитие на действието. И разказано с ирония и чувство за хумор.
June 23, 2016
This book would be a great homework for a literature major. Emphasis on work. The struggle was real.
May 7, 2020
I-aș fi dat două stele, dar m-a impresionat tandrețea pe care Oz o investește chiar și în aceste schițe de personaje.
July 30, 2014
Yes, I ramble... read at your own risk (or boredom)!!
In the book, the author states that modern art is kind of like the emperor's new clothes. I found myself wondering if this particular work of his was the same--he being a "prize-winning novelist." I wondered how much of it really rang true to him and how much of it was pulling a joke over the readers writing, just to see if they would like and give accolades to a work that doesn't merit it. That was one thought. My other thought was that I am really a fish out of water reading this particular book. It isn't the language or the style---conversations in full paragraphs with no differentiation as to who is speaking. Instead, the reader has to quickly figure out which character is doing the talking. It is a style of writing I have dealt with before, so I didn't have a problem with that. My main problem in reading this book is that it is a foreign novel out of Israel and I am not familiar with a lot of the things the author alluded to. He mentions "Jewishisms" and works by Jewish writers and poets that I am not familiar with. He mentions historical events that I barely have a grasp of. The writing is laden with hidden meaning that is easily over the head of those who do not live in a Jewish Israeli world. Still, there are some things and some truths I found apply to all people--the fine line between living---really living and living in a dreamworld and spending too much time imagining that one forgets which is which. In the story, the main character is a writer who is giving a book signing at a cultural center. The writer is only ever refered to as the Author. At the signing, he sits and imagines who all the patrons there are, giving them names, back stories, and motivations. At some point, we leave the book signing, which included a reading and literary criticism, which the Author basically finds boring and maybe even a bit over done. He doesn't seem to really want his work dissected, but understands that it is part of the process and so he goes along. Amos Oz, the author of the book of the story of the Author, seems to be taking pop shots at readers, writers and those who review written works. It is actually subtly comical. "From the top of the bookcase a black-and white cat (because all lonely women in novels live with cats) eyes him with a haughty look, and winds ironically, as though there's nothing novel (NOVEL--get it?) about this visitor (I don't know if that was meant to be a pun and a put down, but it was a really neat sentence considering how the story had developed up to then), as though this is the usual pattern of life up here under the roof, every night, at midnight, some writer or other always turns up, blushing, after remembering to come and write a personal message to Rochell Reznik on the flyleaf of his latest book." Rochele Reznik was the reader at his book signing. After the signing, the Author becomes a major player in Rochele's life, but we don't know if it is just in his mind or if the event really occurred. After the whole Rochele event, Oz writes that "one of the roles of literature is to distill from misery and suffering at least a drop of comfort or human kindness. How to put it: to lick our wonds, if not to dress them. At the very least literature should not preen itself on mocking us and picking at our owunds, as modern writers in our days do ad nauseam. All they can write is satire, irony, parody (including self-parody), vicious sarcasm, all steeped in malice. And this work? it is a self-parody and looking back quite sarcastic, especially at the beginning when the Author is thinking about all the questions he will be asked and how he will answer them and how to act when he is answering them. Pensive of course! Cigarette unlit in the left hand of course! Criticism not only covering the "why did the writer write this?" "what was the meaning?" And even "What is the meaning of meaning?" All the while the audience thinks and thinks and the Author tries to catch a glimpse of a lady's breast or a pair of legs all the while looking pensive and sincerely interested in all the mumbo jumbo being said. He has heard this over analysis a million times and he'll hear and endure it a million more times he seems to think as he recalls the waitress he had at the diner earlier in the day. The waitress he named Ricky and to whom he gave a lover named Charlie and an ex-girlfriend named Lucy who married him or didn't---yes he did and now they have two children and his father who was poor and is now rich is dying in the local hospital. The book reads something like that. It is the writer's process. Finding a character, always looking to find a character everywhere they go and giving them a story and then changing it and re-changing it. Did the night really happen? Or was it a figment of the Author's imagination?
The work feels like it is just a parody or satire of a writer's life, but then it mentions God and Cain and Abel and that "God has many killers" and that perhaps the Jews are not the sons of Abel who was quite young when he was murdered, but instead the sons of Cain. "No offense meant to anyone personally, of course." This is one of the conversations two of the other characters, Shlomo Hougi and Mr. Leon, the Author creates have at the book signing and book literary criticism even at the Seven Victims of the Quarry Attack Cultural center. There is mention of the Arabs and the Jews living together and working together and what ever happened to that? The book ends "Once in a while it is worth turning on the light to clarify what is going on. Tomorrow will be warm and humid, too. And, in fact, tomorrow is today." And so my time with Amos Oz and the Author ended and I was left having to ponder over the meaning of this work. I think a bit of it has to do with the fine line between fantasy and reality and how blurry those lines can become. In life, we create our own reality, right or wrong others around us become what we see them as. We become who we see ourselves as and even when others see us as they want to (the Author is greatly admired for being an author) be, we see beyond that facade even if at first we saw something special about ourselves due to a special admiration in the end we are all human and nothing can change that.
In the book, the author states that modern art is kind of like the emperor's new clothes. I found myself wondering if this particular work of his was the same--he being a "prize-winning novelist." I wondered how much of it really rang true to him and how much of it was pulling a joke over the readers writing, just to see if they would like and give accolades to a work that doesn't merit it. That was one thought. My other thought was that I am really a fish out of water reading this particular book. It isn't the language or the style---conversations in full paragraphs with no differentiation as to who is speaking. Instead, the reader has to quickly figure out which character is doing the talking. It is a style of writing I have dealt with before, so I didn't have a problem with that. My main problem in reading this book is that it is a foreign novel out of Israel and I am not familiar with a lot of the things the author alluded to. He mentions "Jewishisms" and works by Jewish writers and poets that I am not familiar with. He mentions historical events that I barely have a grasp of. The writing is laden with hidden meaning that is easily over the head of those who do not live in a Jewish Israeli world. Still, there are some things and some truths I found apply to all people--the fine line between living---really living and living in a dreamworld and spending too much time imagining that one forgets which is which. In the story, the main character is a writer who is giving a book signing at a cultural center. The writer is only ever refered to as the Author. At the signing, he sits and imagines who all the patrons there are, giving them names, back stories, and motivations. At some point, we leave the book signing, which included a reading and literary criticism, which the Author basically finds boring and maybe even a bit over done. He doesn't seem to really want his work dissected, but understands that it is part of the process and so he goes along. Amos Oz, the author of the book of the story of the Author, seems to be taking pop shots at readers, writers and those who review written works. It is actually subtly comical. "From the top of the bookcase a black-and white cat (because all lonely women in novels live with cats) eyes him with a haughty look, and winds ironically, as though there's nothing novel (NOVEL--get it?) about this visitor (I don't know if that was meant to be a pun and a put down, but it was a really neat sentence considering how the story had developed up to then), as though this is the usual pattern of life up here under the roof, every night, at midnight, some writer or other always turns up, blushing, after remembering to come and write a personal message to Rochell Reznik on the flyleaf of his latest book." Rochele Reznik was the reader at his book signing. After the signing, the Author becomes a major player in Rochele's life, but we don't know if it is just in his mind or if the event really occurred. After the whole Rochele event, Oz writes that "one of the roles of literature is to distill from misery and suffering at least a drop of comfort or human kindness. How to put it: to lick our wonds, if not to dress them. At the very least literature should not preen itself on mocking us and picking at our owunds, as modern writers in our days do ad nauseam. All they can write is satire, irony, parody (including self-parody), vicious sarcasm, all steeped in malice. And this work? it is a self-parody and looking back quite sarcastic, especially at the beginning when the Author is thinking about all the questions he will be asked and how he will answer them and how to act when he is answering them. Pensive of course! Cigarette unlit in the left hand of course! Criticism not only covering the "why did the writer write this?" "what was the meaning?" And even "What is the meaning of meaning?" All the while the audience thinks and thinks and the Author tries to catch a glimpse of a lady's breast or a pair of legs all the while looking pensive and sincerely interested in all the mumbo jumbo being said. He has heard this over analysis a million times and he'll hear and endure it a million more times he seems to think as he recalls the waitress he had at the diner earlier in the day. The waitress he named Ricky and to whom he gave a lover named Charlie and an ex-girlfriend named Lucy who married him or didn't---yes he did and now they have two children and his father who was poor and is now rich is dying in the local hospital. The book reads something like that. It is the writer's process. Finding a character, always looking to find a character everywhere they go and giving them a story and then changing it and re-changing it. Did the night really happen? Or was it a figment of the Author's imagination?
The work feels like it is just a parody or satire of a writer's life, but then it mentions God and Cain and Abel and that "God has many killers" and that perhaps the Jews are not the sons of Abel who was quite young when he was murdered, but instead the sons of Cain. "No offense meant to anyone personally, of course." This is one of the conversations two of the other characters, Shlomo Hougi and Mr. Leon, the Author creates have at the book signing and book literary criticism even at the Seven Victims of the Quarry Attack Cultural center. There is mention of the Arabs and the Jews living together and working together and what ever happened to that? The book ends "Once in a while it is worth turning on the light to clarify what is going on. Tomorrow will be warm and humid, too. And, in fact, tomorrow is today." And so my time with Amos Oz and the Author ended and I was left having to ponder over the meaning of this work. I think a bit of it has to do with the fine line between fantasy and reality and how blurry those lines can become. In life, we create our own reality, right or wrong others around us become what we see them as. We become who we see ourselves as and even when others see us as they want to (the Author is greatly admired for being an author) be, we see beyond that facade even if at first we saw something special about ourselves due to a special admiration in the end we are all human and nothing can change that.
December 15, 2020
Hoy escribo, con el desorden de la urgencia...terminé este libro en menos de 4 horas. Este libro lo tengo porque es una deuda con la biblioteca pública. Lo tendré que releer en otra ocasión...
Es una novela corta sobre un autor anónimo que dará una conferencia sobre uno de sus últimos libros. El juego que establece el autor, y el autor, es interesante debido a que el autor está constantemente creando a partir de los rostros cercanos que hay. Ficción y realidad aquí se bifurcan y se entrelazan de manera grata y sutil. El autor tiene sus problemas con la escritura misma mientras escribe. A veces hay escenas hipotéticas y a veces hay círculos extraños. Más allá del juego y de sus componentes culturales que no logro a abordar completamente, es una novela agradable y con una escritura serena y amena. Recomendada.
Es una novela corta sobre un autor anónimo que dará una conferencia sobre uno de sus últimos libros. El juego que establece el autor, y el autor, es interesante debido a que el autor está constantemente creando a partir de los rostros cercanos que hay. Ficción y realidad aquí se bifurcan y se entrelazan de manera grata y sutil. El autor tiene sus problemas con la escritura misma mientras escribe. A veces hay escenas hipotéticas y a veces hay círculos extraños. Más allá del juego y de sus componentes culturales que no logro a abordar completamente, es una novela agradable y con una escritura serena y amena. Recomendada.
September 1, 2022
„Nimic pe lumea aceasta
nu este intâmplator. Nimic. Absolut nimic.
Nici macar fluturele de noapte care se invârte
pe aici. Nici macar firul de par căzut in farfuria
cu ciorbă. Dar fiecare lucru in parte, fără
exceptie, sta mărturie pentru toate celelate. Sta
mărturie pentru el insusi si pentru încă ceva.
Sta mărturie pentru ceva măreț si îngrozitor.
Ceva ce in iudaism se numeste „, Nevazutul".
Ceva ce doar cei mai intelepti dintre intelepti
cunosc, aflându-se la un nivel superior de
sfintenie si puritate.”
nu este intâmplator. Nimic. Absolut nimic.
Nici macar fluturele de noapte care se invârte
pe aici. Nici macar firul de par căzut in farfuria
cu ciorbă. Dar fiecare lucru in parte, fără
exceptie, sta mărturie pentru toate celelate. Sta
mărturie pentru el insusi si pentru încă ceva.
Sta mărturie pentru ceva măreț si îngrozitor.
Ceva ce in iudaism se numeste „, Nevazutul".
Ceva ce doar cei mai intelepti dintre intelepti
cunosc, aflându-se la un nivel superior de
sfintenie si puritate.”
Displaying 1 - 30 of 131 reviews