Tramvay, çağdaş Fransız edebiyatının en büyük isimlerinden biri olan Claude Simon’un –bilindiği kadarıyla– son romanı. 1950’lerin “Yeni Roman” akımının önde gelen temsilcileri arasında kabul edilen, aynı zamanda 1985 Nobel Ödülü’nün de sahibi olan Simon’un yarım yüzyıla yayılan yazarlık serüveninin son durağı olarak kabul edilen Tramvay, onun bir yazar olarak geleneksel kalıpları aşma eğilimini net bir şekilde ortaya koyuyor. Daima çizgisel ya da kronolojik bir biçimde gelişen bir anlatının gerçek bir anlatı olmadığına inanan Simon, Tramvay’da da olayları –tıpkı gerçek hayatta olduğu gibi– parçalı ve süreksiz olarak ele alıyor, geçmiş ve şimdi’nin üst üste bindiği başka bir zaman kuruyor.
Dünyaya hastane odasından bakan bir adamın şimdi ile dün arasında salınarak, hayatının ortasından geçen bir tramvayla geçmişe yaptığı yolculukları anlattığı Tramvay, Tahsin Yücel’in önsözüyle okurla buluşuyor.
Roman sanatının doruklarında gezinen bir başyapıt…
Awarded 1985 Nobel Prize in Literature, for being an author "who in his novel combines the poet's and the painter's creativeness with a deepened awareness of time in the depiction of the human condition."
So now I am officially tired of smaller tales. After “The Trolley,” a Proustian novel (not in length) that's vivid, digestible, o so French, both tender & brutal and sometimes run-on and modern like that, about childhood (I read it on the way to San Antonio in a room with my family, so I guess vaguely relatable, and fittingly, on a car, which like the trolley in its time was, is, an acceptable form of transportation) & about memory. Looong sentences create that popular effect of giving movement to moments that contain no discernible plot.
وقتی که روزهای پیری فرا میرسد، نفسها به شماره میافتند و اعضای بدن یکی یکی حضور و ضعف های خود را اعلام میکنند، ذهن انسان هم بازی عجیبی را آغازمیکند. وقتی مرگ را نزدیک خود میبیند در بازی بین حافظه و فراموشی شروع به یادآوری خاطرات گذشته میکند. در جستجوی خاطرات عموما خوش. تا به خود بقبولاند که سهم خود را از زندگی داشته و وقتی دیگر فرصت جبران نیست حداقل به رضایت و دلخوشی برسد. در واقع خاطرات ابزاری میشوند برای محافظت و نجات انسان در برابر بی معناییای که مرگ ایجاد کرده. به گمانم کلود سیمون هم مثل راوی کتاب که در بستر بیماریست سعی کرده که سوار تراموایی شود و با آن به خاطرات گذشته خود سفر بکند. با همان تراموایی که در ایام بچگی مسیر خانه را تا مدرسه طی میکرده به سراغ توصیف تصاویری برود که هنوز در ذهنش باقی مانده اند، تا در آنها التیامی پیدا بکند. کتاب شیرینی است. مثل شنیدن خاطرات کودکی آدمها و تلخ است مثل زندگی آدمها! ادای دین بزرگی هم به پروست دارد. آن هم از نویسنده ای که عموما بخاطر آثار ضدرمان-رمان نو خود معروف است. و در بین ما ایرانی ها با جاده ی فلاندر با ترجمه بی نظیر استاد بدیعی شناخته شده است. اگرچه در این کار موخر خود کمی از فضای معمول آثار قبلی خود فاصله گرفته.
پ.ن: این کتاب بتازگی توسط آقای شجاعی و نشر چشمه ترجمه شده.
کتاب در تابستان ۰۳ توسط «نشر چشمه» با عنوان «تراموا» با ترجمهای از «محمدمهدی شجاعی» به طبع رسیده است.
📚 از متن کتاب: «آری، صورتش از وقتی بیماری به او حملهور شده بود، آن بیماری که لاجرم بر او غلبه میکرد، گویی مانند استتار جانوران (یا عشوهای مرگبار) آرامآرام لاغر شده بود، اول فقط نحیف شده بود، بعد گود افتاده بود، کمکم پژمرده بود...»
کتاب حاضر آخرین اثری است که نویسنده قلم به نگاشتناش قبل از مرگ برداشته است و همینطور مطابق نظر منتقدان یکی از آثار خاص و برجستهی این نویسندهی برندهی جایزهی نوبل ادبیات به شمار میرود. همانطور که در پشت جلد کتاب هم آمده است: منبع الهام بیشتر نوشتههای سیمون زندگی خود اوست و دغدغهی اصلیاش درک و دریافت آدمی از مفهوم زمان؛ به همین دلیل شاید بشود سبک و سیاقش را نزدیک به نویسندهی نامدار فرانسوی یعنی مارسل پروست دانست.
در «تراموا» نویسنده با الهام گرفتن از دوران کودکی (گذشته) و کهنسالی (حال) خود، روایتی متفاوت از سیر زمان به خواننده ارائه میدهد. کتاب از روایتی غیرخطی و پازلگونه بهره میگیرد و مجموعهای از خاطرات و اندیشهها را از دوران کودکی تا بزرگسالی روایت میکند. این تکههای پازل توسط نخ نامرئی یک «تراموا» که نویسنده در کودکی در شهر پرپینیان با آن سفر میکرده است، به هم متصل میشوند. نویسنده با هنرمندی از «تراموا» به عنوان نمادی از حرکت و گذر زمان، برای پیوند اندیشهها و تصاویر ذهنی خود (از گذشته تا حال) استفاده میکند.
📚 از متن کتاب: «شاید تاثیر تب بود که چنین به نظرم میرسید، میان دنیای خارج و من گویی پردهای قرار داده بود (به همان اندازه قدرت بینایی مرا تغییر داده بود).»
همانطور که پیشتر اشاره شد، در این کتاب شاهد برهههای مختلفی از زندگی راوی هستیم بطوریکه در ابتدا راوی را کودکی مییابیم که برای رسیدن به مدرسه از خانه و برعکس، سوار تراموا میشود و در خانه با مادر محتضرش روبرو میشود؛ در حالیکه در ادامه راوی مرد سن و سال داری است که خود روی تختی در بخش ترانزیت یک بیمارستان حضور دارد.
یکی از نقاط قوت این اثر را میتوان در توجه به جزئیات حسی و اتفاقات روزمره با پرهیز از کلیشهگویی یافت. جزئیاتی مانند: صدای تراموا، مناظر بیرون و حتی بوی خاص فضاهای مختلفی که همگی در خاطرات نویسنده نقش دارند و به زیبایی توصیف و بیان شدهاند. گویی «کلود سیمون» کوشیده است تا با ارائهی این تصاویر، تلنگری به خواننده در عصر پرشتاب کنونی بزند که از کنار اتفاقات جزیی روزمره نیز به سادگی و بیتامل نگذرد!
All of Claude Simon's chickens, it seems, have come home to Proust.
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
The Trolley is a lush, poetic sort of novel, just as much impressionist as it is nouveau-roman in its approach. Short and compact, it oscillates deftly between past and present in a way that French authors seem to be almost uniquely capable of. I was delighted, but given the long, flowing sentences, I'm confident that to truly appreciate it, I'm going to need to track down a copy in the original.
Tramvay, yaklaşımında yeni-roman olduğu kadar izlenimci de olan, zengin ve şiirsel bir novella. Kısa ve öz, geçmiş ve şimdiki zaman arasında yalnızca Fransız yazarların (Proust) yapabildiği gibi ustaca mekik dokuyor. Çok beğendim, ancak uzun ve akıcı cümleleri göz önüne alındığında, gerçekten takdir edebilmem için yazıldığı dil olan Fransızca nüshasıyla karşılaştırmam gerek.
Nobelli yazar Claude Sümon'nun son eseri Tramvay. Anlatım tarzı ve kurgu akışı hacmini inkar eden bir kitap. 91 sayfada zaman, kişi ve mekandan bağımsız, tasvirlerle bezeli bir anlatıma sahip.
Yazarın Nobel 'e layık görülen Le Palace kitabı da keşke dilimize kazandırılsa, belki birileri sesimi duyar. Ödüllü bir kalemle tanışmak istiyorum diyenler buyursunlar.
This is stream of conciousness extreme. Le roman nouveau movement is known for moving away from plot and going towards ambient describtions and I do like stream of conciousness. But this was too much for me. There is basically no story at all, we're just floating through pieces of memory which are decribed in a lot of detail. Some of them are beautiful and the language is very elaborated, but it gets tiring after some time. Many scenes function like establishing shots in movie scene, but made out of close up after close up. The scenery gets described in great detail using sentences that sometimes sprawl over several pages - and then we just move on to the next piece of memory. There are some recurring themes, but for me that was not enough to hold everything together.
I'm a bit sad, because I love films written by nouveau roman authors (notably L'ANNÉE DERNIÈRE À MARIENBAD by Alain Robbe-Grillet), but the first encounter with their writing was not that great. Perhaps it was a mistake to start with Simon's last work, too. Perhaps I should have picked up some of his major work instead? I'll see in the future, I guess.
La vie n'est q'une longue séries de voyages quotidiens sur le même circuit du service municipal de tramway. Quand on devient vieux et malade, on quitte les transports publique et rentre dans l'hôpital où après des souffrances atroces et de multiplies indignités on s'éteint. On se rend pas l'âme parce que dans ce monde sans sens, Dieu n'existe pas. Voilà la thèse du "Tramway" le dernier roman de Claude Simon. Simon annonce ses couleurs avec une épigraphe de Marcel Proust avant le commencement du texte du roman: "l'image étant le seul élément essential, la simplification qui consisterait à supprimer purement et simplement les personnages réels serait un perfectionnement décisif". (p. 9) En d'autres termes, Simon nous donne sa version d'"À la recherche du temps perdus" sans personnages traditionnels; on y trouve seulement des images des êtres fictifs. Il n'y aucun souvenir des moments d'amour out d'amitié. À la place le narrateur évoquent des gestes équivoques au mieux et parfois macabres. Le passage le plus fort du roman décrit le meurtre des chatons par une bonne. Le lecteur a l'impression que Simon est obsédé par sa propre imminente mais cette obsession fournit un axe au roman. Mon problème est que le narrateur ne voit pas de beauté dans la vie seulement la banalité et l'horreur. Parce que "Le tramway" est très bref on le met au programme dans les universités anglophones pour représenter le nouveau roman. Je ne vois pas d'autre vocation pour ce livre désolant.
Revenir à Claude Simon était une très bonne idée. Il m’avait manqué.
Je ne peux pas être objective avec les oeuvres de Claude Simon, surtout celle-ci (et quelques autres). Je l’ai bien trop étudié, analysé, lu et eu en camarade d’études et en compagnon de chevet qu’il m’est trop intimement lié.
C’est une prose difficile qui va et vient, une langue qui tâtonne et à laquelle il manque les mots pour dire une vie, une histoire, une mémoire mais c’est empreint (enfin c’est ce que je ressens, à cette relecture) d’une humilité et d’une pudeur à dire les choses, à tout de même essayer d’écrire le plus justement possible et qui me touche énormément.
Yeni roman akımının öncülerinden olan ve 85 Nobel Edebiyat Ödülü kazananı Claude Simon'a ait son roman. Ben bu türe bir türlü ısınamadım. Zaman kavramını eğip büken post-modern metinleri severiz ama bu yeni roman akımının yazarlarının amacı ne neden böyle yazıyorlar hiç bana geçmiyor. Daha önce Alain Robbe de Grillet okurken de böyle olmuştu. Çok sevmedim.
This is my first work by Claude Simon, winner of the Nobel Prize in literature in the year of my birth 1985. I have read that this book is Proustian, but having never read any Marcel Proust I can't rightly evaluate that concept. I appreciated this work as a treatise on memories and how they come upon the sick and dying. Simon seems to be saying that our memories can protect us if we just remember it all correctly. The trolley of the main title is almost another character and it seems to represent the unchanging portion of a nearly concrete and palpable memory. The trolley is always there throughout all the things that happen in the main character's life be it good or bad. There was an undercurrent as well of the significance of having a sick parent as the protagonist often recalls the memories of his mother's decline during his own decline.
I have to admit that I really don't see the greatness of Claude Simon's last novel. His unending sentences lose me, even though they do contain a certain mysterious beauty. And as the storytelling is so very stream-of-consciousness I feel that the core of what is being said is lost somewhere. There are certain individual moments of insight, but I really appreciate clarity in prose, and there isn't a lot of that here.
I wonder though how much of Simon's possible magic is simply lost in translation as the language is so unusual with the impossible Proustian sentence structure.
"... ακίνητη, σχεδόν χαμογελαστή, σαν εκείνα τα βαλσαμωμένα λείψανα κάποιας αγίας ή οσίας που τα επιδεικνύουν στις θρησκευτικές επετείους περιφέροντάς τα πάνω στους ώμους μερικών εύρωστων βαστάζων και τα οποία μοιάζουν να επιπλέουν στην επιφάνεια του πλήθους των πιστών πάνω σ' ένα λουλουδένιο στρώμα, πουδραρισμένα ψιμυθιωμένα ή ξαναβαμμένα κάθε φορά από την αρχή."
This short novella is I think the final publication by the French writer Claude Simon, who won the Nobel Prize in 1985. The French have won a lot of Nobel prizes, it turns out, and one of the factors in his winning is the ways in which he contributed the the modern European French language novel — the nouveau Roman. This is an interesting distinction because I think they basically said the same things about JM le Clezio and Patrick Modiano when they won too.
Anyway, this feels like a final novel in an illustrious career. It’s a novel looking back at childhood, but also at concepts related to French literature. Without a doubt, this book is a direct reference to Proust’s famous scene in Swann’s Way with the Madeline. I know this because not only is it on the back cover, there’s an epigraph from Swann’s Way, and of course the novel tells us about reading that novel.
So this novel is more of a recreation of that writing exercise, but using using the trolley cars of Paris from the author’s youth as the launching point. What follows is an interesting, touching, but ultimately quite limited exploration of memory, youth, and city living.
Claude Simon ile lisans 3. sınıf derslerinde tanışmıştık, o günden beri bu kitabı okuyacağum diye geziniyordum. nihayet okudum, Simonʼun kafasını anlamadan okunduğunda hiçbir şey anlamayabilirsiniz. sakin biʼ anda okunması gereken bir kitap kesinlikle. parçalı anlatının en deli noktası şu ana kadar benim için Simon oldu
I guess he writes beautifully - apart from that I guess the only thing a can praise is the ability to write an entire book without anything happening. In languages where the conjugation of verbs are different depending on whether or not things are happening, this would be entirely in the descriptive tense. It is all description. Of the trolley, of the bits of his childhood passing by, the trees, the trolley, the wallpaper, the aunt on the (morally questionable?) beach, the trolley trip between the city and the sea. In my library edition someone had helpfully used colored pencils to colour in all the colours mentioned (and those descriptions have a lot) - all remembered while apparently being in a hospital bed. It's 116 pages and it feels like eons.
He won a nobel prize, he writes well and I am guessing this is marvellous, if you're into the whole description thing (and Marcel Proust). Me well I'm a sucker for stories AKA plot, people, things happening. But well I'll cross him off the Nobel list, not I won't have to read The Flanders Road.
It certainly is as influenced by Proust as everyone says it is, but it really falls short of that level. And yes, it's obviously unfair to criticize something for not reaching the heights of some of the greatest writing of all time, but when you're so obviously indebted to something, you can't help but think of the comparison. Ultimately I enjoyed this on moment to moment level, but taken as a broader whole, it really feels surprisingly empty. There's very little that actually brings this together as any kind of cohesive piece of writing, it just feels like a bunch of pretty paragraphs shoved together. Without some central tenet being present, it's really hard to overlook the meandering nature of the writing. It's not even plot that I'm looking for, just some thematic idea. Even if we want to move away from the slightly unfair Proust comparison, I can't help but think of Péter Nádas, who has managed to take what I have to imagine are very similar influences to Simon and turn that into something distinct and powerful in its own right. Might read more from Simon, but can't say I'm in any hurry when I still have Nádas' Parallel Stories to get through.
* Bir hastane odasında geçmişle ve gelecek arasında köprü kurarak hem iç hesaplaşma , yaşadığı travmalarla özlem ve hasret dolu yolculuğu...
** Kahramanımız geçmişe giderken eksende annesinin hastalığını koyarak, yaşadığı travmanın hastanenin tek gözlü odasında bir melankoli , buhran atmosferini sunuyor.
*** Tramvay hem bir zaman makinesi, olayın nesnesi hemde öznesi durumundadır. Çünkü tramvay kahraman için geçmişine yolculuk , kederine bir rehber niteliğindedir.
**** Tramvayla geçmişine giderken annesinin hastalığı ve ölümü kahraman için tarifi edilemez yaralar açmıştır.
***** Yazar tramvay metaforunun yanında , ressam kimliğiyle kübist bir yaratıcılık ağını kullanmayı ihmal etmemiştir.
****** Yazar 1985 yılında nobel ödülü almıştır.
******* Yeni roman akımının temsilcisi olmasından ötürü, ağdalı bir dil, uzun paragraf ve parantezler, detaylı betimlemeler bulunmaktadır. Yazarı ve dili tanımak adına okunması yararlı olur. Farklı ve değişken okuma deneyimi için okuyun...
کتاب ساده ای نیست، من اول فکر کردم دوساعت میشینم میخونمش زیر صد صفحه است بعد دیدم نه باید باهاش کلنجار برم تا تموم شه. داستان روایت خطی نداره و خاطره و تصویرها رو خیلی دیر متوجه میشی که مربوط به زمان دیگری هستند و انگار توی ذهن نویسنده هستی. همون خط فکری که هممون داریم و ترتیبی نداره و از نقطه الف به ی نمیرسه و هزاربار رفت و امد داره رو قشنگ توی این کتاب میبینی.
تراموا نمادی از گذشتن زمانه. خاطره ها بین کودکی تا پیری داره مرور میشه. چیز خوبی که کتاب برای من داشت به مرگ مثل تموم شدن زندگی نگاه نمیکرد. یه قسمتی از زندگیه و عادی سازیش میکنه. کتاب از مرگ زیاد حرف میزنه چون داره تجربه اش میکنه.
کتاب خیلی سخت جلو رفت ولی بعد که تموم شد و برگشتم مرور کردم خوشحال بودم از خوندنش. فکر رو درگیر میکنه.
Een heerlijk boek voor op een druilerige herfstmiddag. Associatieve herinneringen aan zonovergoten zomers in Perpignan, door een hoofdpersoon die inmiddels met onduidelijke klachten in het ziekenhuis ligt. Scherpe observaties van de rangen en standen in een provinciestad; van de 'meid' die niet alleen het eten kookt maar ook de zieke moeder verzorgt, tot de 'salons' waar het heel nauw komt wie er wel en niet wordt uitgenodigd. Al op de flap wordt de vergelijking met Proust gemaakt, en Proust komt zelf als personage heel kort in het boek voor, dus Simon wist ook wel waar hij de mosterd haalde. Simon doet minder aan zelfbeklag en houdt het kort en luchtig, best een aanrader dus.
I'm glad this book was short because it was quite hard to read. The sentences run on an on for pages with so much information I don't have any tangible memories of what I just read.
The atmosphere of the writing is nice, but because it's not all linear, it gets difficult to follow the story - the long sentences add to this. Maybe there really isn't much of a story at all, it's more memories of things that were and are, and I can appreciate that, and I guess the style works for that purpose. Still, not the best read.
Oldukça betimsel, anlar üzerine odaklanmış yazarın oluşturduğu karakter, hastane odasından anılarıyla birlikte çocukluğunu hatırlatan tramvaya bakarak geçmişe, günümüze ve hayatındaki önemli insanlara yer veriyor.
*"Cam fanusumun içinde bakarken olan biteni zaman içinde kesin yerleştiremiyordum ve beynim, iki sözcüğün bir araya gelmesindeki vurgunun etkisinde kalıyordu yalnızca: çiçekler ve ölüm."
Tunnelmapala, josta en vain saanut otetta (tai joka ei saanut otetta minusta). Joko kirjan maalailemat muistokuvat eivät vedonneet minuun tai sitten hetki tämän teoksen lukemiselle oli väärä. Huomasin ajatuksen karkailevan jatkuvasti muualle. Parhaimmillaan kuitenkin ihastuttavaa henkilö- ja miljöökuvausta, tunnelmaltaan miellyttävän seesteinen.
Le Tramway fait à peine cent pages mais est si long. C'est une accumulation de descriptions, d'images, de souvenirs d'enfance de l'auteur qui se suivent. Il n'y a pas d'intrigue, simplement des événements. Ce n'est que l'écriture de Claude Simon, parfois poétique, colorée mais souvent très longue et pas toujours compréhensible, qui a pu me faire finir ce livre ! (et aussi le nom de l'auteur 😅)
At the surface, this novel seems like a boring, plotless story, but once you dive deeper, you discover that it is a delicate look at life, death and the aging process. I don't think I would read it again, but it was certainly an interesting literary experience.
Sayfa basi ortalama 1 cumle iceren kitap. Acayip uzun cumleler basarili bir akiskanlikla aktarilmis (thumbs up for the translator also). 1 sayfa sonrasinda 1 sayfa once ne anlattigini kesinlikle takip edemedim.