Người Trong Đêm Hè là cuốn tiểu thuyết đã góp phần đưa giải Nobel Văn học năm 1939 về cho Frans Emil Sillanpää và về cho đất nước Phần Lan. Chính Sillanpää đã gọi “đứa con tinh thần” này là “chuỗi thơ mang tính tự sự” bởi sự đan kết tự nhiên giữa bốn mươi tám văn khúc tả cảnh, đối thoại, độc thoại, có lúc đầy kịch tính, khi lại man mác, nên thơ.
Frans Emil Sillanpää was born on the 16th of September, 1888, at Ylä-Satakunta in the Hämeenkyrö Parish of Finland on a desolate croft of the same name. The cottage had been built by his parents, his father Frans Henrik Henriksson, who had moved there some ten years before from Kauvatsa in the Kumo Valley, and his mother, Loviisa Vilhelmiina Iisaksdotter, whose family had lived in the Hämeenkyrö Parish from times immemorial.
Sillanpää's parents had experienced all the trials and tribulations common to generations of settlers in those parts of Finland. Frosts had killed their seeds, farm animals had perished, and the farmer's children, too, had died, until only Frans Emil, the youngest of the offspring, was left.
There was only a mobile school for the farm children, and it was purely by accident - young Sillanpää's life was to abound in accidents - that the crofter's son, who was regarded as a bright lad, came to attend a regular school where he displayed a real aptitude for learning. Some idealists decided that nothing less than a secondary school at Tampere would do and, after giving the matter some thought, old Sillanpää consented to send his son away. For five years, Sillanpää's parents pinched and scraped to keep their son in school, after which he supported himself for another three years and, in 1908, matriculated with good marks. This was a time in Finland when a promising young man could study almost indefinitely on borrowed money, and young Sillanpää was not slow to avail himself of this miscarriage of educational zeal. He plunged into learning and his studies were as chaotic as they were long drawn-out. He did, however, choose biology as his basic subject and worked hard in the laboratory, cutting up things, studying them under the microscope, and drawing what he saw until, one fine day, he woke up to find that five years had gone by; his examination day was still far off and the kind old gentlemen who had been lending him money were not prepared to do so any longer. He scraped together enough cash to return to his home, where he found his father and mother poorer than ever. He lived in their hut and shared their meals, which could hardly excite a gourmet's palate.
His student days were over, his amorous escapades a thing of the past, but at least it was easy enough for him to start from nothing. Sillanpää acquired at a nearby village shop some stationary of the type favoured by village lads for private correspondence and wrote a short story, which he sent to the editor of a large city paper without much hope of seeing it published. To use an expression popular in those days, the story must have been written with his heart's blood because, after a very short time, it appeared on the front page of the aforesaid paper and its author received a very handsome letter from the editor's secretary, as well as his fee, which was more than welcome. The story had been published under a pen name but the literary world of Helsinki soon discovered the identity of the author and the erstwhile eternal scholar found himself, to his amazement, receiving letters of extravagant praise. After several more of his stories had been published in the same paper, something very unusual happened. He was approached by a wellknown publisher who asked to be borne in mind should Sillanpää's literary output stretch to a whole book. The publisher went so far as to offer him a reasonable advance to enable him to work in peace.
Yet another wonder - one of a series - occurred at that time. At an unimportant village dance, Sillanpää met a shy seventeen-year-old girl who, insisting that she could not dance, sat far at the back of the dance hall. In spite of her resistance, Sillanpää dragged her out onto the dance floor to discover that she could dance after all, which she proceeded to do with the utmost seriousness and concentration. This was the beginning of a twenty-five-year saga, during which Sigrid Maria (for such was the name of the se
3 1/2*, cuốn sách của nhà văn phần lan duy nhất đạt Nobel, đọc xong muốn đọc thêm những cuốn khác xem ông í xử lý kỹ thuật thế nào. Cuốn này đọc thấy rất buồn cười không phải vì nội dung buồn cười mà ở chỗ cái nhịp đều đều không tăng không giảm không hình sự không gì cả, tất cả như bị thiên nhiên làm cho nghẹt hết cả đi và có một triệu nhân vật liền và ai cũng được đối xử với mức độ ngang nhau. Có khả năng không viết được bài review.
Despite the page number, this is all about great themes: love, hate, ignorance, death, birth. During two summer days and nights a group of people is introduced, whose stories form separate atmospheric scenes. Yrjö 'Nokia' Salonen struggles with his inner turmoil and lovelessness, young couple Helka and Arvid enjoy their time together, Santra needs tenderness while her husband Jukka wanders around drunk, Hilja and Jalmari are expecting their third child, a lonely artist ponders his role as a father and the old matriarch of Teliranta remembers her girlhood through her grandchild Helka.
The mood is lingering, like the gentle breeze of wind on a sizzling hot summer day, and the tenderness of a Finnish summer night can only be understood by those who have experienced it. Some moments are so beautiful they almost make you cry.
My favourite character of all these is absolutely Nokia, a blonde haired pretty boy who tries out the life of a... Well, I don't know how to translate this. You know, a man who balanced on the logs and guided them along the river. Anyway, Nokia makes a mistake, and in the end the anxiety and (sexual) frustration lead into a very touching scene.
One thing that goes through the whole book is an erotic charge, that apparently appalled the people of 1930s Finland (Sillanpää was a bit of a rebel I think). Maybe now this doesn't evoke the same kind of reaction in a reader, but the subtle hints by the right choices of words are for me the thing that makes this novel an even greater emotional experience.
Oh, and I'd really like to see the 1948 Valentin Vaala film. I usually (with one or two exceptions) hate old Finnish movies with their wooden actors, child-like actresses, and unintentionally amusing vibe. This, however, might be another exception. Just because of the beautiful Martti Katajisto, and because I hear the mood has been realised really well.
A restless energy pulses through the Finnish night. It's the first Saturday of July in the early 1930s, and in the Tampere region, sleep is scarce. Here, the lingering twilight holds a peculiar clarity, a sign of the approaching summer dawn. But on this particular night, slumber evades the residents of Teliranta farmhouse for more than just the extended daylight.
Selma, the master's daughter, and her cousin Helka crave a taste of freedom. A surprise visit from their beaus, Arvid the violinist and his friend Hannu, whisks them away to a town engagement party. The couples revel in stolen moments of laughter and dance, escaping the watchful eyes of Selma's family. Meanwhile, across the lake, Syrjämäki-Hilja grapples with a different kind of anticipation. Labor pains for her fourth child send her husband, Jalmari, on a frantic search for the midwife. But Jalmari, a man of leisurely pace, finds himself entangled in a series of mishaps. As dawn approaches, it's Martta, the wife of Teliranta's master, who steps in to deliver the baby.
Trouble also brews on the nearby river. Young raftsmen, Nokia and Matti, encounter the drunken belligerence of Mettälä-Jukka. Fueled by a shared bottle, a simmering tension explodes when Jukka's taunts push Nokia to the brink.
"People in the Summer Night" isn't a novel with a singular storyline. Instead, it's a mosaic composed of glimpses into the lives of a rural community. These interconnected vignettes paint a vivid picture of Finnish society in the 1930s, showcasing both its charm and its struggles. The detached narrator shifts seamlessly between characters, offering a chorus of voices, young and old, rich and poor. Sillanpää's prose is as sharp and evocative as a Nordic twilight, a reminder that this Nobel Prize winner deserves a wider audience.
אנשים בליל קיץ, פראנס אמיל סילאנפה, ספרית ילקוט, עם עובד 1971 תורגם מגרמנית מתוך השוואה אל התרגום האנגלי בידי מרינה פרל. ייתכן שתרגום משפת המקור יעורר את הספר קמעא.
Sau "con lừa và tôi" thì đây là cuốn có văn đẹp nhất mà em đọc. Nó là kiểu văn đẹp của ngày xưa mà giờ ko còn nữa. Những con người nhà quê thời xưa, vừa xa lạ nhưng có gì quen quen với lối suy nghĩ và tình cảnh nhà quê vn. Đây có lẽ là phiên bản nam cao ft. van gogh.
Edit: quên mất ko khen người dịch. Ko rõ bản gốc hay thế nào, nhưng bản dịch quá tốt.
Beautifully written story about one eventful summer night in a small village in rural Finland. The text captures perfectly the atmosphere of a white northern summer night. It was great to read it in the middle of nature right after Midsummer.
Năm ngoái giở ra đọc nửa chương rồi đóng sách lại. Cơ bản lúc đó không ưa văn chương tả cảnh. Giờ thì sau hai tháng ru rú trong nhà, phong cảnh đồng quê Phần Lan lại khiến mình mê đắm. Cảm giác nhẹ nhàng như những lần đọc Phúc lành của đất, Vị hạt táo, Phố Academy.
When I was describing this book to a friend last night, he said it sounded like an Ingmar Bergman film. And I suppose, in its focus on everyday life, it is. And were I to focus on the major theme of this work, it would seem hopelessly cliche, because essentially the book is about the cycle of life and death. Ho hum. Let's go read something with a little more pizzazz.
But what makes this work more than its rather perfunctory theme is its execution. And really, isn't that the case with all works of fiction? There really aren't more than seven major themes available, one professor of mine once noted. Unfortunately, I've forgotten what those themes were, but I can totally understand the argument. Human life, even amid constant technological change, still centers around a stable and limited number of concerns.
Sillanpaa chooses to tell his story over the nights surrounding a weekend, mostly Saturday and Sunday. He focuses not on a single character but on a town. I was in some ways reminded of Susan Orlean's Saturday Night early on. During the first thirty pages, all Sillanpaa seems to do is introduce character after character and what they're doing. No plot seems evident. If he weren't such an amazing descriptivist, one would quickly put down the book. So many people thrown at a reader at once means any one of them is hard to follow or to feel much for.
But then, the characters start to settle out, and so does the story. If the first and last thirty pages are each focused on mundane descriptions, the middle one hundred and packed with plot. A young man arrives from out of town to court a young lady, and together with another couple, they rush off to a party. A man's pregnant wife goes to check on a sick cow and ends up in labor, the midwife not to be had and the doctor needing to be fetched. The problem is that that doctor is off on another visit: elsewhere in town one man has stabbed another to death and struggles in vain to bring the man to life. That dead man's wife, meanwhile, dallies with other men in her house, serving them beer and looking out for the husband who will fail to return.
The events don't really come to an end so much as they become subsumed in the general ebb and flow of life itself. These intense moments of love, birth, death, Sillanpaa seems to be saying, fade into the general mundanity of existence.
Ihmiset suviyössä on Sillanpään kaunein teos, herkkä ja runollinen. Kirja kestää vaikka kuinka monta lukukertaa ja joka kerran jälkeen siitä jää hyvä olo. Hymyilyttää. Kirja pitää lukea kesällä ulkona heinäpellossa maaten, kun aurinko paistaa, ruoho tuoksuu ja vain linnunlaulu kuuluu ympäriltä.
Suomalaisen kirjallisuuden klassikoita. Sillanpään kieli on aivan omaa luokkaansa, sitä ei tee mieli hotkia, vaan nauttia sana ja lause kerrallaan, pikkuhiljaa. Kirja aivan omaa luokkaansa.
(3,5 ja luin tän suomeks lol) sain ajatuksen lukee Sillanpäätä ku selvis et hän on ainoa Nobelin kirjallisuuspalkinnon voittanut suomalainen ja näin tän teoksen antikvariaatissa :)
The girl who had asked the question remained in the doorway, leaning gracefully against the jamb. In that light and in that position she was again new. The destiny of two young people moved onward with the charm and ease peculiar to a sublime force. As scene after scene unfolded, the attraction grew stronger. The girl was standing there on the threshold in the dusk — on the threshold, but the half-open door was already behind her: the door opened outward, in the direction from which she had come.
The young man had spoken the words "I haven't wanted to yet," with a strange gravity. He moved slightly toward where the girl was standing, but in such a way that all his attention seemed to be fixed on the summer night. He looked at each side of the room in turn, as though surrendering himself to what he saw from the windows, first in the south, then in the north.
'Who could sleep here when such a being, such a brightly dark, enchanting ghost, keeps watch all round one's bed, playing a melody which is so low and so high that the ear cannot catch it.'
'How then do you know that it makes a sound?'
'I see it in your eyes — you have accompanied me once before.'
By now the girl, without being aware of it, had stepped over the threshold and closed the door noiselessly behind her.
There was a caress in the young man's words . . . an accompaniment . . . soundless music which would soon be heard. Once more the girl felt herself in the power of this music, just as she had been in the winter. At this moment she again felt self-conscious as she remembered their duet — how the violin had seemed to come like a gypsy right against her ear [p. 40] and speak a language which, had it been expressed in ordinary human words — and acts — would . . . . She had resisted, striking the chords with the strength of despair, yet it seemed to her when they had finished playing — the music ended with a long pianissimo in which the accompaniment led — it seemed when she got up from the piano stool that she was no longer the same as before. And then in the library — she remembered every detail . . . .
There he was again, that same being, the same manly figure, his "music" had the same firm touch as then, though now the sound was muted — and the most wonderful of all: there were no guests. What had the whole of this day been? What else but a preparation for this. Had there been a single thing, however insignificant, had there been one chance thought, word, or action which had not been an irrevocable preparation for this? In all her life had there been any thought, word, deed which did not lead to this — in all her life; — yes — that is what — it — has — been . . . . He — he whose right shoulder was already such a sweet support for the fingers of her left hand as they gazed together out into the yard . . . . their two profiles together stood out in a clear, light, double relief against the background of that "brightly dark, enchanting ghost," the northern summer night, which could not speak . . . . There he was . . . that dear person . . . the man who in the daytime had a name but not now . . . who, somewhere out there, had a "career" for which he was studying, at the same time practicing his music . . . no, nothing . . . nothing . . . only this. Only this wonderful, almost numbing state of existence.” chapter 11.
Ủa, truyện có 210 trang thôi mà sao mệt não dị.. xin được cảnh báo là ai mà muốn đọc cuốn này thì đọc liền một mạch, đừng có chán quá buông bỏ giữa chừng r mốt quay lại đọc tiếp, sẽ không nhớ nổi tên hết đâu. Đến mình đọc liên tù tì mà còn phải lật đi lật lại xem mình đã bỏ sót cái tên vừa mới xuất hiện ở đâu. Mà an tâm, đọc tầm 1/3 quyển là nắm được hết các nhân vật. Uh, thì đó là câu chuyện những Đêm hè của những con người sống ở đồng quê nước Phần Lan: [tình yêu, công việc, mối quan hệ, lối sống, cảnh sắc thiên nhiên... x (xấu, tốt)]; đúng kiểu miêu tả một bức tranh đa sắc. Văn chương không đơn giản là tự sự thuần kể chuyện, tại mình thấy nó cứ “lai láng” kiểu gì, nó cũng chả thứ tự không gian, thời gian gì hết.. hứng lên thấy người này thì kể người này, gần đó có người kia thì kể người kia, cảnh này hữu tình quá thì kiếm ai đó trong cảnh để lồng ghép vào làm nền cho cảnh..... Tản mát ghê luôn!!! :(. Nói dị thôi, chứ truyện có nội dung hẳn hoi nhe, các nhân vật trong truyện đều xoay quanh cái trang trại Teliranta cả đấy! Trong truyện chỉ có duy nhất một người không được tác giả đặt tên, đó là người hoạ sĩ già. Tác giả tập trung miêu tả cảm xúc của ông khá nh nên mình nghĩ có khi người hoạ sĩ đó là tác giả cũng không chừng!! :)
Anw, đọc xong mình nghĩ tại sao cùng là câu chuyện miêu tả cuộc sống của những con người vùng miền cụ thể, nhưng tại sao đọc “Phố Canary Row” thấy nhẹ nhàng, cảm xúc nhân văn bao nhiêu thì đọc quyển này mình cảm giác như nhìn vào giếng nước sâu hun hút ko thấy đáy vậy...hay tại nó sâu quá nên đứa dở hơi như mình cảm không tới..... đọc xong mà cứ đơ đơ ra với một tác phẩm giựt giải này nọ mình cũng tủi thân lắm chớ bộ....T_T!! Ps: Mình biết thêm được thì ra sauna gỗ thông là truyền thống lâu đời ở Phần Lan.
“It would be out of place to say of a wanderer in the still, summer night, especially one who is alone, that he is in any way unhappy. If an isolated house, having taken its last inmate under shelter, is like a mother, then so is the whole expanse of the summer night with its earth and sky; in its embrace even the most unhappy mortal, at least if he is alone, will always rest in one way or another.”
Sweet vignettes of Finnish farm life. They didn't really go anywhere, but it was a pleasant escape.
“For Helka the summer had been pleasant and beautiful; here at Teliranta she had lived the simple life of a human being, working for the joy of it, doing work which did not tax the spirit, even if it sometimes tired the body, feeling only the invisible increase of bodily and spiritual strength.”
I liked this a lot. I've read plenty of books about the collision of the new with the old, but here new and old coexist peacefully. The old man cutting hay with the scythe doesn't shake his fist at the young adults zipping by in their motor car, which was pretty refeshing for once. I also liked the shifting points-of-view. Usually that sort of zooming in and out is disorienting, but Sillanpaa pulls it off pretty well.
Alussa oli vähän hankaluuksia päästä sisään tähän kirjaan. Täytyy myöntää, että pidän itse enemmän juonivetoisista tarinoista kuin maalailevasta kielestä, mitä tämä Sillanpää edustaa, mutta on tässä hieno tunnelma.
Alkuvaikeuksien jälkeen pääsin tarinaan paremmin sisään, mutta ei tästä mitään suursuosikkia tullut. Omaan makuuni oli vähän liian työläs lukea ja jouduin säännöllisesti palaamaan taaksepäin, kun ajatukset karkailivat ja tipuin matkasta.
Mielenkiintoisia hahmoja ja hieno tunnelma, mutta kirjoitustyyli ei ollut omaan makuuni.
Hienosti kirjoitettu teos suomalaisesta suvesta kahden illan osalta sekä niiden sisällään pitämistä tapahtumista ja ihmisten mielentiloista. Lukemista ei tarvinnut erityisemmin kiirehtiä, sillä teoksen tunnelma vei mukanansa ja teksti soljui eteenpäin kuin itsestään. Hieno kotimainen klassikko, jonka lyhyeen pituuteen mahtuu kaikki oleellinen suomalaisesta suvesta. Annan tälle 4 tähteä.
Chà toàn những người thiện lành nhỉ, đâm cứ thấy mộng tưởng làm sao. Có đôi chỗ đáng ra nên chú thích thì không thấy gì, mà chỗ chẳng cần thì lại chú thích, về phương Bắc ấy. Rõ ngán.
Một dạo cứ hay nghĩ về mùa hè, thế mà hè đến rồi đi tuyệt chẳng nhớ điều gì, và qua rồi thì lại nhớ. Chắc bởi hè thành phố đâu có hoa cỏ muôn loài gọi tên đã thấy hân hoan như thế. Gì mà tống quán sủi với cả ké gai, cỏ ngỗng và hoa chuông tím cơ... Và hè không đêm mà lại có nắng cơ.
2.5 stars. This is an atmospheric novel – which is a polite way of saying it’s a bit dull. After taking twenty pages to tell us “The sun rose and a car arrived,” Sillanpää gets on with introducing the characters, whose lives occasionally intersect. By the time we reach the crux of the events – a death, a birth, a love affair – the novel is two-thirds over. And so is my interest, as I realize there will be nothing more conveyed beyond this plain, well-trod literary ground.
Recommended Finnish classic to read. It will transport you to a time that doesnt exist anymore, yet feels eternal. Read this on a warm summer night in the Nordics and you wont be disappointed!
Ai mà nói những cuốn Nobel không dành cho người đọc nhanh thì các bạn hãy quăng cho họ cuốn này nha. Không đọc nhanh là quên tên nhân vật với sự kiện trước đó luôn. Cuốn này không phải quá hay nhưng nó đẹp lắm. Đẹp bởi khung cảnh làng quê Phần Lan yên bình và tác giả dành/giành rất nhiều tâm sức để tả về vẻ đẹp ấy. Đẹp đến nỗi mình ước mình được đặt chân đến Phương Bắc một lần vào mùa hè, cái thời điểm đêm cũng như ngày ngày cũng như đêm này 😥. Những phân đoạn tả cảnh (nhất là ở những trang đầu) mà không đưa vào sách giáo khoa thì hơi phí.
NGƯỜI TRONG ĐÊM HÈ kể về một đêm trắng đúng cả nghĩa đen lẫn nghĩa bóng. Những người được nhắc đến đã thức trọn vẹn một đêm, một phần vì đêm đó đã xảy ra sự việc nghiêm trọng, một phần vì những đêm hè không bóng tối thế này người trẻ thích đi chơi còn người già thì suy ngẫm về những điều đã qua trong cuộc đời. Có chăng chỉ là sự trùng hợp vì giữa cả trăm đêm hè như thế người ta lại chọn cùng thức trắng vào một đêm. Tuy là tiểu thuyết nhưng về cơ bản mình thấy nó là truyện ngắn. Tuyến nhân vật xoay quanh trang trại Teliranta, tác giả gặp ai là kể chuyện người đó và đôi khi nó không góp phần vào drama chính. Đúng kiểu đêm đó ai không ngủ là được đưa vào sách hết. Mà thật ra truyện này không ai là nhân vật phụ cả. Giọng kể đều đều khiến mình có cảm giác tác giả khá "công bằng" với các nhân vật của ông. Mình cảm thấy những chuyển động của con người hay sự ồn ào của tiếng nói, máy móc dường như bị chuyển về cảnh tĩnh trước vẻ đẹp ngút ngàn của mùa hè phương Bắc. Thật sự cứ như ngắm một bức tranh phong cảnh vậy.
Tämän kirjan lukeminen kesti ja kesti ja sain sen luettua kuukaudessa lähinnä siksi, että oli pakko. Minun oli vaikea niin sanotusti kunnolla päästä sisään Sillanpään kaunopuheiseen ja vanhaltakin jo kuulostavaan kerrontaan eivätkä tapatumat välittömästi myöskään vanginneet kiinnostustani. On tälle teokselle kuitenkin kolme tähteä annettava, sillä onhan sillä kieltämättä kirjallisia ansioita. On mielenkiintoista, kuinka joukko ihmisiä esitellään lukijalle ja hahmoja syvennetään toisten hahmojen näkökulmien kautta. Näkökulmatekniikan ansiosta teos olikin ajalleen varsin modernistinen.
Teoksessa kuvataan kahden kesäyön aikaisia tapahtumia ja niiden kautta välittyvä suomalainen maaseutukuva näyttää hyvin idylliseltä ja kauniilta, se tuo mieleen vanhan suomalaisen elokuvan. Elokuvahan teoksen pohjalta on tehtykin (vuonna 1948), mutta sitä en ainakaan muista nähneeni.
Kirjan tunnelman voisi hyvinkin kiteyttää jo sen ensimmäiseen virkkeeseen: "Mitään suviyötä pohjolassa tuskin onkaan; on vain viipyvä, viipyessään hiukan himmenevä ehtoo, mutta siinä himmeydessäänkin on tuo sanalla sanomaton kirkastuksensa." Suvinen yö on kaunis, eikä ainakaan yhtenä sellaisena Telirannan talon ympäristössä paljoa nukuta.
Kirja oli toisaalta varsin mielenkiintoinen, mutta itseeni ei Sillanpään kirjoitustyyli erityisemmin iskenyt.
Sillanpaa's book is filled with poetic, "fine-writing" prose, but I'm not sure it qualifies as a novel. 20 or 30 pages in, there begin to be signs that the book might develop some characters. But with no clear goal in sight (no plot, certainly), at page 50 I finally gave up. The writing is very abstracted and focused only on "moments" and images. Some things attempted in this novel one can find better executed in Tarjei Vesaas and in Tove Jansson's The Summer Book.