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Julius Winsome
Unexpectedly shattered by the tragic shooting of his canine companion by careless hunters, recluse and trained sharpshooter Julius Winsome struggles with painful memories of past losses and becomes increasingly obsessed with exacting revenge. By the author of Schopenhauer's Telescope.
224 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2006
27 people are currently reading
1555 people want to read
About the author
Gerard Donovan
15 books58 followersGerard Donovan is an acclaimed Irish-born novelist, photographer and poet currently living in Plymouth, England, working as a lecturer at the University of Plymouth.
Donovan attracted immediate critical acclaim with his debut novel Schopenhauer's Telescope, which was long-listed for the Man Booker Prize in 2003. His subsequent novels include Doctor Salt (2005), Julius Winsome (2006), and, most recently, Sunless (2007). However, Sunless is essentially a rewritten version of Doctor Salt -- ultimately very different from the earlier novel, but built upon the same basic narrative elements—of which Donovan has said: "Doctor Salt... was a first draft of Sunless. I wrote [Doctor Salt] too fast, and the sense I was after just wasn't in the novel. ... I saw the chance to write the real novel, if you like, [when Doctor Salt was due to be published in the United States in 2007] and this I hope I've done in Sunless."
Prior to his career as a prose author, Donovan published three collections of poetry: Columbus Rides Again (1992), Kings and Bicycles (1995), and The Lighthouse (2000). His next publication will be a collection of short stories set in Ireland, followed by a novel set in early twentieth-century Europe which he is currently writing.
Donovan made a huge Dubai picture, with 4.250 photoshots (45 billion pixels) in Dubai's panoramica area.
Donovan attracted immediate critical acclaim with his debut novel Schopenhauer's Telescope, which was long-listed for the Man Booker Prize in 2003. His subsequent novels include Doctor Salt (2005), Julius Winsome (2006), and, most recently, Sunless (2007). However, Sunless is essentially a rewritten version of Doctor Salt -- ultimately very different from the earlier novel, but built upon the same basic narrative elements—of which Donovan has said: "Doctor Salt... was a first draft of Sunless. I wrote [Doctor Salt] too fast, and the sense I was after just wasn't in the novel. ... I saw the chance to write the real novel, if you like, [when Doctor Salt was due to be published in the United States in 2007] and this I hope I've done in Sunless."
Prior to his career as a prose author, Donovan published three collections of poetry: Columbus Rides Again (1992), Kings and Bicycles (1995), and The Lighthouse (2000). His next publication will be a collection of short stories set in Ireland, followed by a novel set in early twentieth-century Europe which he is currently writing.
Donovan made a huge Dubai picture, with 4.250 photoshots (45 billion pixels) in Dubai's panoramica area.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 232 reviews
August 30, 2024
یه استادی داشتیم همیشه می گفت من از آدمای درونگرا خیلی می ترسم، چون تا به حد انفجار نرسن صداشون درنمیاد.
جولیوس وینسام داستان مردیه که به دور از هیاهوی شهر در کلبه ای جنگلی زندگی میکنه. نه با کسی کار داره و نه کسی کارش داره. تا اینکه بالاخره یه نفر با کشتن سگ وینسام حریمشو لگدمال میکنه. اتفاقی که قبلا با از دست دادن یک زن هم تجربه کرده. ادامه داستان در مورد واکنش مرد منزوی به دو فقدان بزرگشه... . واکنشی انفجاری و وحشیانه.
درکل داستانی هیجان انگیز با ریشه های عمیق روان شناختی بود.
جولیوس وینسام داستان مردیه که به دور از هیاهوی شهر در کلبه ای جنگلی زندگی میکنه. نه با کسی کار داره و نه کسی کارش داره. تا اینکه بالاخره یه نفر با کشتن سگ وینسام حریمشو لگدمال میکنه. اتفاقی که قبلا با از دست دادن یک زن هم تجربه کرده. ادامه داستان در مورد واکنش مرد منزوی به دو فقدان بزرگشه... . واکنشی انفجاری و وحشیانه.
درکل داستانی هیجان انگیز با ریشه های عمیق روان شناختی بود.
February 28, 2020
Beautiful story about a man whose dog is shot in the woods and who goes to take action after that. Reminded me of Cormac McCarthy. It's sort of a dark and lonely story, beautifully written.
April 11, 2019
This is a difficult book for me to rate. I can't say it's "enjoyable" yet it is compelling.
Also for me, I found it a little disturbing how easily I could identify with some things in the protagonist. While I don't share many of his traits, in a couple of ways I identified with him...a lot.
There is a pivotal event in the book, the primary catalyst for climatic events is one with which I identify, quite a bit (though it didn't effect me quite as shatteringly as it did Julius).
I also (like the protagonist in the novel)have a lot of books, I've always lined the walls of any dwelling with books (starting with my room from about 13 on, when I could get my dad to allow shelves to be installed above my bed in the room I shared with my younger brother). I love to be surrounded by quiet thoughts and deep, dynamic, or forceful thoughts. To have portals to other worlds just an arm's length away.
Happily I have a few other interests also.
In this book life has been somewhat predictable (he lives in the home his father left him where he was raised with the books that have been his friends all his life, also from his father). The quiet retiring Julius cruises along not really happy it seems to me, not truly unhappy either. I don't want to give any spoilers here, so just let me say; a feeling of abiding almost overwhelming melancholy pervades this book only to give way to a sort of sad purpose that seems to fill in the corners of a life that had little. I found myself not truly identifying with him, but at times sympathizing and almost understanding.
I have now read a few other reviews of this short novel and notice how different the effect is on different readers. I believe that this book touches different people in different ways, much depending on their life experience and background... There were even some in whom the story seemed to stir little reaction at all. In retrospect, in the time since I first read it, and even though I plan not to read the book again, as I find it almost painful, I am making a change. I had rated it 4 stars. I have come to agree with those who believe that this will become a "sort of" modern classic. It stays with you so, even if I can't use the word or say I "enjoyed" this book, I am upping the rating to 5 stars.
Update: I have moved this book to my favorites shelf.
Also for me, I found it a little disturbing how easily I could identify with some things in the protagonist. While I don't share many of his traits, in a couple of ways I identified with him...a lot.
There is a pivotal event in the book, the primary catalyst for climatic events is one with which I identify, quite a bit (though it didn't effect me quite as shatteringly as it did Julius).
I also (like the protagonist in the novel)have a lot of books, I've always lined the walls of any dwelling with books (starting with my room from about 13 on, when I could get my dad to allow shelves to be installed above my bed in the room I shared with my younger brother). I love to be surrounded by quiet thoughts and deep, dynamic, or forceful thoughts. To have portals to other worlds just an arm's length away.
Happily I have a few other interests also.
In this book life has been somewhat predictable (he lives in the home his father left him where he was raised with the books that have been his friends all his life, also from his father). The quiet retiring Julius cruises along not really happy it seems to me, not truly unhappy either. I don't want to give any spoilers here, so just let me say; a feeling of abiding almost overwhelming melancholy pervades this book only to give way to a sort of sad purpose that seems to fill in the corners of a life that had little. I found myself not truly identifying with him, but at times sympathizing and almost understanding.
I have now read a few other reviews of this short novel and notice how different the effect is on different readers. I believe that this book touches different people in different ways, much depending on their life experience and background... There were even some in whom the story seemed to stir little reaction at all. In retrospect, in the time since I first read it, and even though I plan not to read the book again, as I find it almost painful, I am making a change. I had rated it 4 stars. I have come to agree with those who believe that this will become a "sort of" modern classic. It stays with you so, even if I can't use the word or say I "enjoyed" this book, I am upping the rating to 5 stars.
Update: I have moved this book to my favorites shelf.
August 30, 2021
Het zal 1984 zijn geweest. Ik studeerde in Brussel en vond het geweldig om in het weekend in de stad te blijven en op zaterdag om middernacht naar de film te gaan. Dat vond ik stoer, maar ik vertilde me er vaak aan. De arthouse films die ik koos waren niet altijd voor gevoelige zielen.
Ik herinner me ‘Pixote’ van Héctor Babenco, over het lot van een Braziliaanse straatjongen. Dan liep ik na afloop om twee uur ’s nachts terug naar mijn studentenkamer in Anderlecht, met de rauwe beelden uit de film op mijn netvlies. Dat was heftig. ‘Pixote’ is zo’n film die gemaakt is met een oog dat niet wegkijkt, laat staan eens knippert.
Om een bruggetje te maken naar ‘Winter in Maine’ van Gerard Donovan lijkt Babenco’s film een vreemde keuze, maar ik zocht in mijn herinnering naar iets dat ik heb gezien, moeilijk vond om naar te blijven kijken, maar het toch deed, terwijl de adem in mijn keel stokte.
In het boek is Julius Winsome aan het woord, wiens hond Hobbes wordt doodgeschoten. De verteller komt — als je hem toelaat — heel dicht bij de lezer. Je leest de hersenspinsels van de man, die ver van de bewoonde wereld in een blokhut woont. Voor de dood van zijn hond had hij eigenlijk wel vrede met zijn leven.
Klaarblijkelijk heeft het schot een paar gedachten omgewoeld, waardoor er gevoelens naar boven komen die hij niet uitspreekt, laat staan uitlegt, maar die je als lezer wel meekrijgt. Stel je een snelkookpan op het vuur voor, maar dan aan de binnenkant.
Julius onderneemt actie, en ik verwoord het met opzet zo klinisch. Voor zichzelf kan hij alles onmiddellijk verantwoorden. Je ziet wat hij doet, je wilt het eigenlijk niet zien, en toch lees je door. (De man verwoordt de dingen trouwens mooi.)
‘Winter in Maine’ heb ik gisteravond uitgelezen, en daarna kon ik niet direct in slaap komen. Om halftwaalf werd ik uit een halfslaap gehaald door drie schoten in het bos. Ik weet zeker dat ze echt waren — heel zeker. De schoten én dit boek nam ik mee de nacht in. Een uur of vijf later ben ik roepend wakkergeschrokken uit een nachtmerrie die zich in een grootstad afspeelde.
Het is niet het promopraatje dat je wil horen, maar misschien hoor je het toch helemaal tot het einde, waar ik dan zeg dat je ‘Winter in Maine’ absoluut moet lezen.
‘Winter in Maine’ is uit het Engels vertaald door Marion Op den Camp.
Ik herinner me ‘Pixote’ van Héctor Babenco, over het lot van een Braziliaanse straatjongen. Dan liep ik na afloop om twee uur ’s nachts terug naar mijn studentenkamer in Anderlecht, met de rauwe beelden uit de film op mijn netvlies. Dat was heftig. ‘Pixote’ is zo’n film die gemaakt is met een oog dat niet wegkijkt, laat staan eens knippert.
Om een bruggetje te maken naar ‘Winter in Maine’ van Gerard Donovan lijkt Babenco’s film een vreemde keuze, maar ik zocht in mijn herinnering naar iets dat ik heb gezien, moeilijk vond om naar te blijven kijken, maar het toch deed, terwijl de adem in mijn keel stokte.
In het boek is Julius Winsome aan het woord, wiens hond Hobbes wordt doodgeschoten. De verteller komt — als je hem toelaat — heel dicht bij de lezer. Je leest de hersenspinsels van de man, die ver van de bewoonde wereld in een blokhut woont. Voor de dood van zijn hond had hij eigenlijk wel vrede met zijn leven.
Klaarblijkelijk heeft het schot een paar gedachten omgewoeld, waardoor er gevoelens naar boven komen die hij niet uitspreekt, laat staan uitlegt, maar die je als lezer wel meekrijgt. Stel je een snelkookpan op het vuur voor, maar dan aan de binnenkant.
Julius onderneemt actie, en ik verwoord het met opzet zo klinisch. Voor zichzelf kan hij alles onmiddellijk verantwoorden. Je ziet wat hij doet, je wilt het eigenlijk niet zien, en toch lees je door. (De man verwoordt de dingen trouwens mooi.)
‘Winter in Maine’ heb ik gisteravond uitgelezen, en daarna kon ik niet direct in slaap komen. Om halftwaalf werd ik uit een halfslaap gehaald door drie schoten in het bos. Ik weet zeker dat ze echt waren — heel zeker. De schoten én dit boek nam ik mee de nacht in. Een uur of vijf later ben ik roepend wakkergeschrokken uit een nachtmerrie die zich in een grootstad afspeelde.
Het is niet het promopraatje dat je wil horen, maar misschien hoor je het toch helemaal tot het einde, waar ik dan zeg dat je ‘Winter in Maine’ absoluut moet lezen.
‘Winter in Maine’ is uit het Engels vertaald door Marion Op den Camp.
October 24, 2025
مرا به خاک بسپارید؛ زیر باران ناامیدی.
من مُردهام، نه در گوری سرد،
در گوری از جنس این اتاق تنگ
که پنجرههایش رو به هیچ اتفاق تازهای باز نمیشود.
بعد از تو، تمام درختها شاخههایشان شکست،
و تمام کبوترها، در یک غروب دوشنبه، پرواز را فراموش کردند.
تو رفتی.
و این تنها واقعیت ساده و زننده این جهان است.
من را با هیچ چیز نمیشود دلداری داد؛
نه با شعرهای پر ستاره شاملو،
نه با آوازهای دور یک کولی،
نه با وعده پوچ بهشت.
من به پوچی تمام چراغهای روشن شهر ایمان آوردهام.
چرا که هیچ نوری،
حتی یک کورسوی حقیر،
مرا به سمت دستهای گمشده تو هدایت نمیکند.
حالا در اتاقم،
تنها چند لباس تننخورده مانده است
و یک قفسه چوبی از کتابهای ناخوانده.
و این تمام میراث تو برای من است.
یک سکوت مطلق،
و یک تنهایی گس
که مثل طعم الکل، گلویم را میسوزاند.
ای تو، ای آرزوی پرپر شده در باد،
تو چه میدانی از وزن سنگین یک سقف بیتکیهگاه؟
من تمام پلهای پشت سرم را خراب کردهام،
چون دیگر میلی به بازگشت به هیچ آغاز دروغینی ندارم.
مرا به خاک بسپارید؛ زیر باران ناامیدی.
چرا که من، از این به بعد، فقط یک حفرهام،
یک حفره سیاه،
که کسی تمام رویاهای خود را
چون آشغالهای بویناک،
در آن انباشتهاست.
و دیگر هیچ چیز،
هیچ چیز لعنتیای،
مرگ مرا اثبات نخواهد کرد.
چون من آنقدر مُردهام که خود مرگ نیز
از دیدنم، شرمگین است.
......................
وقتی ادبیات در برابر گلوله شکست میخورد.
«جولیوس وینسام» یک تراژدی انسانی، در سکوت است.
جولیوس، مردی که با دقت یک محقق و انزوای یک راهب زندگی میکند، در اعماق جنگلهای سرد مِین، پشت دیواری از ۳۲۸۲ کتاب پنهان شده است. او انگار با تمام دنیا قهر است، و فقط با کلمات شکسپیر زندگی میکند؛ و تنها با سگش. این کتابها و این سگ، تمام تمدن و جهان او را تشکیل میدهند.
داستان در لحظهای آغاز میشود که این جهان تراریومی درهم میشکند. یک گلوله بیهدف از تفنگ شکارچیان، هابز را میکشد. مرگ هابز، نه پایان یک زندگی، بلکه آغاز یک زلزله روحی است. این اتفاق به ظاهر بیاهمیت، زخمهای عمیق و کهنهٔ جولیوس را تازه کرده و او را از یک منزوی متفکر، به یک سلاح مرگبار بیرحم تبدیل میکند.
نثر داناوان کمنقص، گیرا و شاعرانه است. مانند سرمازدگی... زیبا، آرام، اما کشنده. او با توصیفات دقیق طبیعت سرد مِین، حال و هوای روحی جولیوس را به تصویر میکشد. خواننده در حین پیشروی در این داستان انتقام، هم از اعمال جولیوس وحشت میکند و هم با انزوای عمیق او همدردی میکند.
این کتاب یک داستان جنایی معمولی نیست؛ بلکه یک مرثیهٔ برای روح تنها و بیگانهای است که آخرین پناهگاهش نیز ویران شده است.
................................
کتاب رو عید ۱۴۰۴ عیدی گرفتم *،*
من مُردهام، نه در گوری سرد،
در گوری از جنس این اتاق تنگ
که پنجرههایش رو به هیچ اتفاق تازهای باز نمیشود.
بعد از تو، تمام درختها شاخههایشان شکست،
و تمام کبوترها، در یک غروب دوشنبه، پرواز را فراموش کردند.
تو رفتی.
و این تنها واقعیت ساده و زننده این جهان است.
من را با هیچ چیز نمیشود دلداری داد؛
نه با شعرهای پر ستاره شاملو،
نه با آوازهای دور یک کولی،
نه با وعده پوچ بهشت.
من به پوچی تمام چراغهای روشن شهر ایمان آوردهام.
چرا که هیچ نوری،
حتی یک کورسوی حقیر،
مرا به سمت دستهای گمشده تو هدایت نمیکند.
حالا در اتاقم،
تنها چند لباس تننخورده مانده است
و یک قفسه چوبی از کتابهای ناخوانده.
و این تمام میراث تو برای من است.
یک سکوت مطلق،
و یک تنهایی گس
که مثل طعم الکل، گلویم را میسوزاند.
ای تو، ای آرزوی پرپر شده در باد،
تو چه میدانی از وزن سنگین یک سقف بیتکیهگاه؟
من تمام پلهای پشت سرم را خراب کردهام،
چون دیگر میلی به بازگشت به هیچ آغاز دروغینی ندارم.
مرا به خاک بسپارید؛ زیر باران ناامیدی.
چرا که من، از این به بعد، فقط یک حفرهام،
یک حفره سیاه،
که کسی تمام رویاهای خود را
چون آشغالهای بویناک،
در آن انباشتهاست.
و دیگر هیچ چیز،
هیچ چیز لعنتیای،
مرگ مرا اثبات نخواهد کرد.
چون من آنقدر مُردهام که خود مرگ نیز
از دیدنم، شرمگین است.
......................
وقتی ادبیات در برابر گلوله شکست میخورد.
«جولیوس وینسام» یک تراژدی انسانی، در سکوت است.
جولیوس، مردی که با دقت یک محقق و انزوای یک راهب زندگی میکند، در اعماق جنگلهای سرد مِین، پشت دیواری از ۳۲۸۲ کتاب پنهان شده است. او انگار با تمام دنیا قهر است، و فقط با کلمات شکسپیر زندگی میکند؛ و تنها با سگش. این کتابها و این سگ، تمام تمدن و جهان او را تشکیل میدهند.
داستان در لحظهای آغاز میشود که این جهان تراریومی درهم میشکند. یک گلوله بیهدف از تفنگ شکارچیان، هابز را میکشد. مرگ هابز، نه پایان یک زندگی، بلکه آغاز یک زلزله روحی است. این اتفاق به ظاهر بیاهمیت، زخمهای عمیق و کهنهٔ جولیوس را تازه کرده و او را از یک منزوی متفکر، به یک سلاح مرگبار بیرحم تبدیل میکند.
نثر داناوان کمنقص، گیرا و شاعرانه است. مانند سرمازدگی... زیبا، آرام، اما کشنده. او با توصیفات دقیق طبیعت سرد مِین، حال و هوای روحی جولیوس را به تصویر میکشد. خواننده در حین پیشروی در این داستان انتقام، هم از اعمال جولیوس وحشت میکند و هم با انزوای عمیق او همدردی میکند.
این کتاب یک داستان جنایی معمولی نیست؛ بلکه یک مرثیهٔ برای روح تنها و بیگانهای است که آخرین پناهگاهش نیز ویران شده است.
................................
کتاب رو عید ۱۴۰۴ عیدی گرفتم *،*
April 14, 2025
"به نظر منطقی میآمد که چطور فقدان چیزی میتواند شما را از زمان حال رها کند و باعث شود به این فکر کنید که در زندگی چه چیزهای دیگری وجود دارد"
February 10, 2019
A strange book, with an even stranger protagonist and narrator.
Surrounded by a wall of 3,282 books he inherited from his father, Julius Winsome (51) is living alone in a secluded cabin in Maine. His only companion is his faithful dog Hobbes, named after the philosopher. Some years back Winsome had a brief relationship with a woman who suddenly appeared one day on the porch, but that’s a about it. Now winter is coming and with it the hunting season. One day Winsome hears a shot fired, apparently not too far from his cabin, and realizes that his dog is gone missing. You guessed it — Hobbes was shot, deliberately as the vet confirms, by a hunter. Winsome, whose father was a WWII veteran, and grandfather a marksman in WWI, gets out the old Pattern ‘14 Enfield Rifle and sets out for a hunt of his own, to take revenge…
That sounds more bellicose than it actually is. One cannot claim that Julius Winsome is a particularly emotional person, at least he’s not a hotspur. Thoughtful, planned, patient and in a certain way distanced, he follows through with his plan. Cold blooded, you could say. The prose reflects this, and so does the setting in the bitterly cold winter in Northern Maine, where “only short sentences and long thoughts can survive”. You can almost feel the cold yourself, see the snow drifting, hear the shots echo through the forest for miles, and also feel the warmth from the fireplace in the cabin, and smell the leather bound books. This could have been a great book if only the protagonist would act more rational. In a way, I can understand the man and his motives for revenge. I doubt, however, that I would actually go out and start shooting people (apart from the fact that it’s incredibly hard to legally obtain a weapon in Germany), even in the same situation as Winsome.
There is another book I read, in which a woman kills a man after he slaughtered the woman’s dog. It was also an act of vigilante justice, but the murder was more an act on impulse (and perhaps self-defense), and there was no other way for the woman to get help, because there was simply no so-called civilization anymore. If only the author had put his character in a similar situation, I would have liked the book even more. In any case, this is definitely worth reading, albeit not on any beach. A (merciless) winter’s tale.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Surrounded by a wall of 3,282 books he inherited from his father, Julius Winsome (51) is living alone in a secluded cabin in Maine. His only companion is his faithful dog Hobbes, named after the philosopher. Some years back Winsome had a brief relationship with a woman who suddenly appeared one day on the porch, but that’s a about it. Now winter is coming and with it the hunting season. One day Winsome hears a shot fired, apparently not too far from his cabin, and realizes that his dog is gone missing. You guessed it — Hobbes was shot, deliberately as the vet confirms, by a hunter. Winsome, whose father was a WWII veteran, and grandfather a marksman in WWI, gets out the old Pattern ‘14 Enfield Rifle and sets out for a hunt of his own, to take revenge…
That sounds more bellicose than it actually is. One cannot claim that Julius Winsome is a particularly emotional person, at least he’s not a hotspur. Thoughtful, planned, patient and in a certain way distanced, he follows through with his plan. Cold blooded, you could say. The prose reflects this, and so does the setting in the bitterly cold winter in Northern Maine, where “only short sentences and long thoughts can survive”. You can almost feel the cold yourself, see the snow drifting, hear the shots echo through the forest for miles, and also feel the warmth from the fireplace in the cabin, and smell the leather bound books. This could have been a great book if only the protagonist would act more rational. In a way, I can understand the man and his motives for revenge. I doubt, however, that I would actually go out and start shooting people (apart from the fact that it’s incredibly hard to legally obtain a weapon in Germany), even in the same situation as Winsome.
There is another book I read, in which a woman kills a man after he slaughtered the woman’s dog. It was also an act of vigilante justice, but the murder was more an act on impulse (and perhaps self-defense), and there was no other way for the woman to get help, because there was simply no so-called civilization anymore. If only the author had put his character in a similar situation, I would have liked the book even more. In any case, this is definitely worth reading, albeit not on any beach. A (merciless) winter’s tale.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
March 10, 2008
This is an amazingly beautiful book about a lonely, sensitive man who lives in the woods by himself in a cabin lined in several thousand books. It is a love story, a mystery of sorts, and perhaps the most violent argument for nonviolence I have read in a very long time. Donovan is a master story-teller interweaving strong characters with an unpredictable plot. Deceptively simple in both story and language, this is as book that crawls inside your mind and keeps you awake far into the night rethinking your own actions and values. This is definitely a prose piece recommended to poets. It is a gorgeously written, intelligent piece of "Truth". Read it!
September 24, 2012
There is something wrong with Julius Winsome. But we’re not sure what. At least, we’re not sure what made him what he is. Which is a loner, first of all; a man isolated in the Maine woods. He lives in a cabin with his dog Hobbes. His father, who was ‘damaged’ in the Second World War as his own father was in the First, had lined that cabin with 3,282 books. And there is his grandfather’s Enfield rifle, completing his legacy.
And then someone shoots Hobbes. So much for the Social Contract.
Armed with the Enfield and meticulously collected words from Shakespeare, Winsome wanders the near woods to seek a kind of justice. Which, I could have told him, is always an imperfect thing.
Yes, there is something wrong with Julius Winsome; but we’re not sure what. The fireplace in the cabin spreads warmth, but only so far. So there are warm books and there are cold books. I could have told him that too.
He misses Hobbes, but he misses Claire too. She got lost in the woods some years back when a relationship fluttered, and she found Winsome. Ah, the magic of warmth from another person. She stays some. It is Claire that suggests a dog. But her relationship fluttered again, and she was gone. I should have known that people can sometimes come close enough to discover that they are strangers. After Hobbes’ demise, Winsome wonders if Claire’s appearance and disappearance was not so random. He sorts the evidence of duplicity, even as he dispatches demons. Like the books in the cabin, Winsome is capable of great warmth but also cold revenge.
Perhaps things don’t happen for a reason, they happen because people do them.
So there is something wrong with Julius Winsome. His inherited wars. Love, given and then taken away. Books, both warm and cold. The coming of another Maine Winter. The winter is fifty books long and fixes you to silence like a pinned insect; your sentences fold themselves into single words, the hand of twelve makes one hand of time. Every glance ends in snow. Every footstep sinks North. That’s time in Maine, the white of time.
Finally, perhaps, he has found the man who killed Hobbes. Is this what this is all about, a dog? the man asks. But we already know otherwise. A dog’s bark sounds so like a German soldier’s shouts. Or the language Shakespeare invented. Time makes dogs of us.
So Winsome raises the Enfield yet again, and orders the man to walk. What I wanted to say to that man as he walked ahead of me in the woods was that I didn’t have feeling where I should and too much where I shouldn’t. You keep away from men like me and you’ll be alright in life.
And then someone shoots Hobbes. So much for the Social Contract.
Armed with the Enfield and meticulously collected words from Shakespeare, Winsome wanders the near woods to seek a kind of justice. Which, I could have told him, is always an imperfect thing.
Yes, there is something wrong with Julius Winsome; but we’re not sure what. The fireplace in the cabin spreads warmth, but only so far. So there are warm books and there are cold books. I could have told him that too.
He misses Hobbes, but he misses Claire too. She got lost in the woods some years back when a relationship fluttered, and she found Winsome. Ah, the magic of warmth from another person. She stays some. It is Claire that suggests a dog. But her relationship fluttered again, and she was gone. I should have known that people can sometimes come close enough to discover that they are strangers. After Hobbes’ demise, Winsome wonders if Claire’s appearance and disappearance was not so random. He sorts the evidence of duplicity, even as he dispatches demons. Like the books in the cabin, Winsome is capable of great warmth but also cold revenge.
Perhaps things don’t happen for a reason, they happen because people do them.
So there is something wrong with Julius Winsome. His inherited wars. Love, given and then taken away. Books, both warm and cold. The coming of another Maine Winter. The winter is fifty books long and fixes you to silence like a pinned insect; your sentences fold themselves into single words, the hand of twelve makes one hand of time. Every glance ends in snow. Every footstep sinks North. That’s time in Maine, the white of time.
Finally, perhaps, he has found the man who killed Hobbes. Is this what this is all about, a dog? the man asks. But we already know otherwise. A dog’s bark sounds so like a German soldier’s shouts. Or the language Shakespeare invented. Time makes dogs of us.
So Winsome raises the Enfield yet again, and orders the man to walk. What I wanted to say to that man as he walked ahead of me in the woods was that I didn’t have feeling where I should and too much where I shouldn’t. You keep away from men like me and you’ll be alright in life.
February 7, 2010
It's not easy to rate or talk about this book. I don't think I've ever read anything like it before. Some say it'll become a modern classic one day in the future and I can sort of see that happening.
It's so beautifully written... Donovan manages to draw you in right away and I read 70% of the book in one go. You're sort of thinking "Why do I feel for this character?" - and on the same hand it makes perfect sense.
It's timeless.
Make sure to read it in wintertime, the German title is "Winter in Maine" for a reason.
"Als ich wieder in der Hütte war und das Feuer schürte, spürte ich zum ersten Mal, dass er mir fehlte, und dieses Gefühl versetzte meinem Herz einen schrecklichen Schlag, denn auf einmal begriff ich die wahre Bedeutung des Wortes ‚tot’. Es bedeutet, dass niemand sieht, wie man lebt und was man tut."
It's so beautifully written... Donovan manages to draw you in right away and I read 70% of the book in one go. You're sort of thinking "Why do I feel for this character?" - and on the same hand it makes perfect sense.
It's timeless.
Make sure to read it in wintertime, the German title is "Winter in Maine" for a reason.
"Als ich wieder in der Hütte war und das Feuer schürte, spürte ich zum ersten Mal, dass er mir fehlte, und dieses Gefühl versetzte meinem Herz einen schrecklichen Schlag, denn auf einmal begriff ich die wahre Bedeutung des Wortes ‚tot’. Es bedeutet, dass niemand sieht, wie man lebt und was man tut."
June 28, 2018
The story told in 'Julius Winsome' is narrated by the title character. He lives in a cabin, in the middle of the woods in Maine. The nearest neighbours are a few miles away. The nearest town is also a few miles away. Julius lives with his dog Hobbes. Julius hasn't gone to college, but is very well read, because his father inspired a love for literature in him. His father also left him with 3282 books. All the walls in Julius' home are lined with bookshelves filled with books. 3282 books. One evening, at the end of October, Julius is sitting in front of the wood stove, in which the logs are crackling producing a beautiful sound and generating a pleasant warmth. He is reading a collection of short stories by Chekhov, while sipping a hot cup of tea. (I read those lines in the book atleast ten times. Such a perfect first scene. Sitting in front of the fire, in the fall, reading a book, sipping a cup of tea, with a dog at his feet - what can be better? Wait, where is the dog?) Julius suddenly discovers that his dog Hobbes is missing. He calls for Hobbes, but doesn't hear any answer. He tries after a while, but still no answer. Sometime before he had heard a gunshot, but this is the time of the year, when there are hunters in the forest and so one hears gunshots. And so Julius had ignored it. But now he is worried. After a while, he becomes restless and goes out in the cold and searches for his dog. He finds Hobbes, some distance away, on the ground, shot by a gun, but still alive. Julius takes his truck, and rushes to the veterinarian. The doctor tries his best but it is too late. Hobbes has lost a lot of blood. He looks at Julius for the last time and then stops breathing. Julius brings him back home and buries him nearby. Julius feels very sad. As he describes it himself :
"By the time I was back in the cabin and stirring the fire, I missed him for the first time, missed him with a hammerstrike against the heart, the awful moment when you know what gone really means. It means no one sees how you live, what you do.
And along with the sadness, something else crept in the door, a trace of something else, I mean. It must have come from the woodpile or ran in from the woods, because I'd not felt anything like it before."
That thing which creeps into his house along with the sadness, it darkens his heart, makes him thirst for revenge. What happens after that, what Julius does about it, is he able to find who killed Hobbes, is he able to take his revenge - these form the rest of the story.
'Julius Winsome' is a beautiful study of loneliness, of solitude. It belongs in the category of the great introvert novels - like Patrick Süskind's 'The Pigeon' and 'Perfume' and J.K.Huysmans' 'Downstream' and 'Against Nature', Robert Seethaler's 'A Whole Life', Denis Thériault's 'The Peculiar Life of a Lonely Postman' and Alexis M. Smith's 'Glaciers'. It describes what happens when an introvert sits in his cabin, sipping tea, reading his favourite book, and minding his own business, and the outside world suddenly enters his life, explodes into his life, changing it upside down. What happens is surprising and even amazing, and sometimes we may not even approve of what is happening, but if one is an introvert (not the introvert who claims to be one, but spends most evenings and weekends with friends and other people and has a busy social life, but the one who is the real deal, the introvert who spends a Saturday evening reading a book rather than catching up with friends, who watches movies alone because she / he hates other people when they talk during a movie, who hates talking on the phone but prefers texting, that kind of introvert), one can understand why things are happening the way they do. Gerard Donovan clearly loves Shakespeare and he passes on that love to the narrator whose account is filled with Shakespearean words and we find interesting scenes in which two people are pointing a gun at each other and the narrator quotes Shakespeare and the person on the opposite side says 'What???' :) I loved those scenes. It made me remember a Tamil movie called 'Anniyan' in which the main character quotes Sanskrit shlokas to the bad guys and their faces widen with a bewildered look. After the initial cozy start and the subsequent tragedy, the story acquires the pace of a thriller and we want to turn the page to find out what happens next. It was interesting to see the story transforming in shape and become something new and different but which has deep roots in its past. Gerard Donovan's prose is spare and beautiful and the narrative is interspersed with beautiful sentences and passages. The story has an interesting ending, something that I didn't expect.
I loved 'Julius Winsome'. It is a beautiful story of solitude, love, friendship, loss, revenge, war, violence, redemption. It is also a beautiful story about the friendship between humans and dogs and a beautiful story about the love for literature and Shakespeare. I can't wait to read more books by Gerard Donovan.
I will leave you with some of my favourite passages from the book.
"My father was so sparing in his words you had to add water to them before they swelled into a sentence you could understand."
"If a man whispers something to you in German, and you don't speak the language, you won't understand a word of it : he could be talking philosophy or cursing your parents. If he shouts the same thing or different German words at you, you still won't understand a thing. When a dog lifts his head and howls while keeping his eyes on you, slightly from the side, it means he's playful but knows that you're putting one over him. If he puts his head back and barks at you full on, down from the stomach, he wants to play. If he growls from the stomach when you grab him and looks sideways at you, it's pure affection, but if he growls straight ahead and shallow from the teeth, it's a one-second warning. If you don't understand his language, it's all noise. Those men abroad in the woods did not, I think, understand my Shakespeare, though every word of it was English and I spoke carefully. I may as well have been barking at them. Time makes dogs of us."
Have you read 'Julius Winsome'? What do you think about it?
"By the time I was back in the cabin and stirring the fire, I missed him for the first time, missed him with a hammerstrike against the heart, the awful moment when you know what gone really means. It means no one sees how you live, what you do.
And along with the sadness, something else crept in the door, a trace of something else, I mean. It must have come from the woodpile or ran in from the woods, because I'd not felt anything like it before."
That thing which creeps into his house along with the sadness, it darkens his heart, makes him thirst for revenge. What happens after that, what Julius does about it, is he able to find who killed Hobbes, is he able to take his revenge - these form the rest of the story.
'Julius Winsome' is a beautiful study of loneliness, of solitude. It belongs in the category of the great introvert novels - like Patrick Süskind's 'The Pigeon' and 'Perfume' and J.K.Huysmans' 'Downstream' and 'Against Nature', Robert Seethaler's 'A Whole Life', Denis Thériault's 'The Peculiar Life of a Lonely Postman' and Alexis M. Smith's 'Glaciers'. It describes what happens when an introvert sits in his cabin, sipping tea, reading his favourite book, and minding his own business, and the outside world suddenly enters his life, explodes into his life, changing it upside down. What happens is surprising and even amazing, and sometimes we may not even approve of what is happening, but if one is an introvert (not the introvert who claims to be one, but spends most evenings and weekends with friends and other people and has a busy social life, but the one who is the real deal, the introvert who spends a Saturday evening reading a book rather than catching up with friends, who watches movies alone because she / he hates other people when they talk during a movie, who hates talking on the phone but prefers texting, that kind of introvert), one can understand why things are happening the way they do. Gerard Donovan clearly loves Shakespeare and he passes on that love to the narrator whose account is filled with Shakespearean words and we find interesting scenes in which two people are pointing a gun at each other and the narrator quotes Shakespeare and the person on the opposite side says 'What???' :) I loved those scenes. It made me remember a Tamil movie called 'Anniyan' in which the main character quotes Sanskrit shlokas to the bad guys and their faces widen with a bewildered look. After the initial cozy start and the subsequent tragedy, the story acquires the pace of a thriller and we want to turn the page to find out what happens next. It was interesting to see the story transforming in shape and become something new and different but which has deep roots in its past. Gerard Donovan's prose is spare and beautiful and the narrative is interspersed with beautiful sentences and passages. The story has an interesting ending, something that I didn't expect.
I loved 'Julius Winsome'. It is a beautiful story of solitude, love, friendship, loss, revenge, war, violence, redemption. It is also a beautiful story about the friendship between humans and dogs and a beautiful story about the love for literature and Shakespeare. I can't wait to read more books by Gerard Donovan.
I will leave you with some of my favourite passages from the book.
"My father was so sparing in his words you had to add water to them before they swelled into a sentence you could understand."
"If a man whispers something to you in German, and you don't speak the language, you won't understand a word of it : he could be talking philosophy or cursing your parents. If he shouts the same thing or different German words at you, you still won't understand a thing. When a dog lifts his head and howls while keeping his eyes on you, slightly from the side, it means he's playful but knows that you're putting one over him. If he puts his head back and barks at you full on, down from the stomach, he wants to play. If he growls from the stomach when you grab him and looks sideways at you, it's pure affection, but if he growls straight ahead and shallow from the teeth, it's a one-second warning. If you don't understand his language, it's all noise. Those men abroad in the woods did not, I think, understand my Shakespeare, though every word of it was English and I spoke carefully. I may as well have been barking at them. Time makes dogs of us."
Have you read 'Julius Winsome'? What do you think about it?
June 23, 2022
🔶«جولیوس وینسام» هم تمام شد. خواندن این کتاب عجیب ۱۹۸صفحهای برای من در حدود ۵ساعت زمان برد.
🔶«جرارد داناوان» تبهّر خاصی در خلق داستانهای بینظیر و زمستانی دارد، با شخصیتهایی که رابطهای ناهنجار با واقعیت دارند اما استعدادی شگرف در بازتابهای عمیق. دامنههای داستانی این نویسندهی آزاد بهخاطر غیرمستقیم بودنشان، بهشکلی نامتناقض میهّج و انگیزانندهاند.
«داناوان» در «جولیوس وینسام»، این سومین رمان شاعرانه و خوشنوشتش نشان میدهد که چگونه خشونت میتواند بهناگهان دنیای یک فرد را زیرورو کند. «جولیوس وینسام» یکی از آن کتابهای کمیابیست که چنان استادانه نوشته شده که هرچه به پایانش نزدیکتر میشوی، تو را ملزم به آهستهتر خواندنش میکند تا چشیدن زیبایی نثر شاعرنه و لطیفش را بهشکلی حداکثری طولانیتر کنی.
🔶برای گرفتن انتقام حیوان خانگی��تان، مثلن سگتان، تا کجا حاضرید پیش بروید؟
در جنگهای زمستانی ایالت مِین آمریکا، با فاصلهی 5کیلومتری تا اولین انسان زنده، «جولیوس» 51ساله است که در کلبهی چوبیاش با دیوارهای سرتاسر پوشیده از کتاب که گویی با کتاب عایقش کرده، بههمراه سگش «هابز» در تنهایی مطلق زندهگی میکند و داستان از جایی شگفتزدهتان میکند که «جولیوس» لاشهی تیرخوردهی تنها همدم نزدیکش، «هابز» را در نزدیکی کلبهاش پیدا میکند.
🔶با نگاهی اجمالی به وجود میشود گفت رهبانی «جولیوس»، روایت کتاب که همگی در ذهن «جولیوس» در گذر است، خشن اما بههمان اندازه شاعرانهس�� و باحسی دلواپس و از دست دادنی بیسروصدا در جریان است. و در این میان کشته شدن «هابز» به مثابه نشتری بر به قول خودِ «جولیوس»، این "لکهی عفونت" عمل میکند: "جایی که میبایست احساس داشته باشم نداشتم، و جایی که نمیبایست احساس داشته باشم داشتم. اگر آنگونه که من از انسانها دوری گزینی، مشکلی نخواهی داشت". انتقام «جولیوس»، این تنهای فیلسوف، آرام، همراه با مدیتیشن و در عین حال بهشکلی باورنکردنی سبعانهست. و نکتهی اصلی اینجاست که پس از اتمام کتاب، وحشتزده از اعمال «جولیوس» با آن جنون فزاینده، با حسّی همدلی مجذوب شخصیتش میشوی... و نباید غافل شد از زبان شاعرانهی «داناوانِ» شاعر در وصف دقیق، زیبا و نفسگیر طبیعت سرد و وحشی داستان که با آن با قوّت هرچه تمامتر گره خورده است. حین خواندن این «کتاب» بیمحابا کتاب «در جنگلهای سیبری» اثر فوقالعادهی «سیلون تسون» در نظرم بود.
🔶از خواندن «جولیوس وینسام» بسیار لذت بردم...
🔶«جولیوس وینسام» هم تمام شد. خواندن این کتاب عجیب ۱۹۸صفحهای برای من در حدود ۵ساعت زمان برد.
🔶«جرارد داناوان» تبهّر خاصی در خلق داستانهای بینظیر و زمستانی دارد، با شخصیتهایی که رابطهای ناهنجار با واقعیت دارند اما استعدادی شگرف در بازتابهای عمیق. دامنههای داستانی این نویسندهی آزاد بهخاطر غیرمستقیم بودنشان، بهشکلی نامتناقض میهّج و انگیزانندهاند.
«داناوان» در «جولیوس وینسام»، این سومین رمان شاعرانه و خوشنوشتش نشان میدهد که چگونه خشونت میتواند بهناگهان دنیای یک فرد را زیرورو کند. «جولیوس وینسام» یکی از آن کتابهای کمیابیست که چنان استادانه نوشته شده که هرچه به پایانش نزدیکتر میشوی، تو را ملزم به آهستهتر خواندنش میکند تا چشیدن زیبایی نثر شاعرنه و لطیفش را بهشکلی حداکثری طولانیتر کنی.
🔶برای گرفتن انتقام حیوان خانگی��تان، مثلن سگتان، تا کجا حاضرید پیش بروید؟
در جنگهای زمستانی ایالت مِین آمریکا، با فاصلهی 5کیلومتری تا اولین انسان زنده، «جولیوس» 51ساله است که در کلبهی چوبیاش با دیوارهای سرتاسر پوشیده از کتاب که گویی با کتاب عایقش کرده، بههمراه سگش «هابز» در تنهایی مطلق زندهگی میکند و داستان از جایی شگفتزدهتان میکند که «جولیوس» لاشهی تیرخوردهی تنها همدم نزدیکش، «هابز» را در نزدیکی کلبهاش پیدا میکند.
🔶با نگاهی اجمالی به وجود میشود گفت رهبانی «جولیوس»، روایت کتاب که همگی در ذهن «جولیوس» در گذر است، خشن اما بههمان اندازه شاعرانهس�� و باحسی دلواپس و از دست دادنی بیسروصدا در جریان است. و در این میان کشته شدن «هابز» به مثابه نشتری بر به قول خودِ «جولیوس»، این "لکهی عفونت" عمل میکند: "جایی که میبایست احساس داشته باشم نداشتم، و جایی که نمیبایست احساس داشته باشم داشتم. اگر آنگونه که من از انسانها دوری گزینی، مشکلی نخواهی داشت". انتقام «جولیوس»، این تنهای فیلسوف، آرام، همراه با مدیتیشن و در عین حال بهشکلی باورنکردنی سبعانهست. و نکتهی اصلی اینجاست که پس از اتمام کتاب، وحشتزده از اعمال «جولیوس» با آن جنون فزاینده، با حسّی همدلی مجذوب شخصیتش میشوی... و نباید غافل شد از زبان شاعرانهی «داناوانِ» شاعر در وصف دقیق، زیبا و نفسگیر طبیعت سرد و وحشی داستان که با آن با قوّت هرچه تمامتر گره خورده است. حین خواندن این «کتاب» بیمحابا کتاب «در جنگلهای سیبری» اثر فوقالعادهی «سیلون تسون» در نظرم بود.
🔶از خواندن «جولیوس وینسام» بسیار لذت بردم...
November 3, 2013
Julius Winsome es un ser solitario que ha permanecido toda su vida en el bosque, en una cabaña llena de libros. Excepto por esporádicos trabajos de jardinería y la compra de víveres, apenas sale de los límites de su territorio. Su única compañía toda su vida ha sido su padre, que murió hace unos años, y que le enseñó el placer y el poder de la palabra escrita, cómo disfrutar de un buen libro al amor de la lumbre en los días fríos del invierno. Durante los últimos cuatro años, su verdadero y único amigo ha sido su perro Hobbes, regalo de un amor fugaz. Pero un disparo suena en la noche. Han disparado a Hobbes...
Pensad por un momento en la vida que lleva este hombre, cuya única compañía es la de su perro, el único ser que le ha mostrado un amor y una lealtad incondicionales. Esto es esencial para entender la personalidad de Julius, o al menos intentarlo.
'El inventor de palabras' (a Tusquets parece que no le convencía el título original, 'Julius Winsome') es una novela hermosa en muchas ocasiones, pero también atroz en otras. Donovan no ha querido dibujarnos a Julius como el típico pobre hombre solitario digno de lástima, porque algunos de los actos que lleva a cabo también te hacen odiarlo. Julius es una personaje complejo y raro.
Lo que más me ha gustado de la novela han sido los recuerdos que Julius tiene de su padre, de cómo le enseñó a amar la letra escrita, de sus hitorias sobre la guerra, de cómo califica su biblioteca en libros fríos y calientes. 'El inventor de palabras' no llega al nivel de 'El telescopio de Schopenhauer', una de las mejores novelas de los últimos años, pero se lee bien y con interés.
Pensad por un momento en la vida que lleva este hombre, cuya única compañía es la de su perro, el único ser que le ha mostrado un amor y una lealtad incondicionales. Esto es esencial para entender la personalidad de Julius, o al menos intentarlo.
'El inventor de palabras' (a Tusquets parece que no le convencía el título original, 'Julius Winsome') es una novela hermosa en muchas ocasiones, pero también atroz en otras. Donovan no ha querido dibujarnos a Julius como el típico pobre hombre solitario digno de lástima, porque algunos de los actos que lleva a cabo también te hacen odiarlo. Julius es una personaje complejo y raro.
Lo que más me ha gustado de la novela han sido los recuerdos que Julius tiene de su padre, de cómo le enseñó a amar la letra escrita, de sus hitorias sobre la guerra, de cómo califica su biblioteca en libros fríos y calientes. 'El inventor de palabras' no llega al nivel de 'El telescopio de Schopenhauer', una de las mejores novelas de los últimos años, pero se lee bien y con interés.
January 30, 2020
Osvetnik koji je volio čitati.
Odlična karakterizacija lika kao i osjećaji koje u tom trenutku proživljava.
Roman u dva dijela u kojem je
prvi bio očeva smrt i izoliranost u ocevoj kolibi duboko u sumi u kojoj ima vise od 3000 knjiga za citati i gubitak psa kojeg mu je netko ubio. Drugi dio prati prekid ljubavne veze s lijepom Claire, mladom ženom iz obližnjeg gradića koja je zaslužna za to što je u Juliusov život stiglo malo štene koje mu je od tada nesebično pravilo društvo. No, Claire je poput mnogih žena odlučila asocijalnog, ćudljivog muškarca iz šume, zamijeniti nešto sigurnijim i konvencionalnijim partnerom pa ga je napustila kako bi stupila u vezi s lokalnim policajcem. Slučajni susret s njom u Juliusu će probuditi nikad prevladane osjećaje koji će dodatno zaoštriti nesnosan osjećaj gubitka što razara njegovo tankoćutno, a jednostavno srce. Tko je ubojica njegovog psa, nije me iznenadilo.
Odlicni opisi ljudskih osjecaja...
Odlična karakterizacija lika kao i osjećaji koje u tom trenutku proživljava.
Roman u dva dijela u kojem je
prvi bio očeva smrt i izoliranost u ocevoj kolibi duboko u sumi u kojoj ima vise od 3000 knjiga za citati i gubitak psa kojeg mu je netko ubio. Drugi dio prati prekid ljubavne veze s lijepom Claire, mladom ženom iz obližnjeg gradića koja je zaslužna za to što je u Juliusov život stiglo malo štene koje mu je od tada nesebično pravilo društvo. No, Claire je poput mnogih žena odlučila asocijalnog, ćudljivog muškarca iz šume, zamijeniti nešto sigurnijim i konvencionalnijim partnerom pa ga je napustila kako bi stupila u vezi s lokalnim policajcem. Slučajni susret s njom u Juliusu će probuditi nikad prevladane osjećaje koji će dodatno zaoštriti nesnosan osjećaj gubitka što razara njegovo tankoćutno, a jednostavno srce. Tko je ubojica njegovog psa, nije me iznenadilo.
Odlicni opisi ljudskih osjecaja...
September 18, 2012
If you want to see a likeable villain, meet Julius Winsome. I've never wrestled with hating a bad guy so much because... he isn't quite a bad guy. He isn't mean. He doesn't have a tortured backstory. He has a great library, will use Shakespearean vocabulary in everyday conversations, and loves his dog. Yet he is the antagonist.
I don't want to spoil any of the plot, but this book completely changed how I look at narrators and intent in novels. It asks how much readers will forgive a character for, and what actions or beliefs create an antagonist.
This is, craft-wise, one of the cleverest books I've ever read.
I don't want to spoil any of the plot, but this book completely changed how I look at narrators and intent in novels. It asks how much readers will forgive a character for, and what actions or beliefs create an antagonist.
This is, craft-wise, one of the cleverest books I've ever read.
July 16, 2023
خیلی وقت بود که کتابی اینقدر قلبمو لمس نکرده بود...
اگر حیوون خونگی دارین، یا به حیوون ها علاقه دارین این کتاب رو خیلی دوست خواهید داشت.
پر از توصیفات و تشبیهات زیبا بود
اگر حیوون خونگی دارین، یا به حیوون ها علاقه دارین این کتاب رو خیلی دوست خواهید داشت.
پر از توصیفات و تشبیهات زیبا بود
January 27, 2009
I picked up the book Julius Winsome, by Gerard Donovan at the library quite by accident. The picture of the woods on the outside, made me curious. The book is set in the cold woods of Maine where Julius Winsome, a lonely man lives with his dog Hobbs in an isolated log cabin which was left to him by his father. He is surrounded by over 3,000 books formerly belonging to his father, many of which are rare first editions (doesn't this sound wonderful?).
....."Except for my dog I lived on my own, for I had never married, though I think I came near once, and so even the silences were mine. It was a place built around silences."
It was this woman(whom he almost married) who prior to her departure for good, helped Julius to find a new companion--- his beloved terrier-mix Hobbes. Julius is happy living alone drinking tea and reading Shakespeare, with his loyal companion by his side. Where the weather is warm he works part time to earn a little money. Except for the sounds of occasional gun fire from hunters in the woods abutting his property, everything is peaceful, just the way Julius likes it.
One day all that changes when Julius finds his dog dying from a shotgun blast. The veterinarian tells Julius that whoever shot Hobbes did it up close and probably even patted the dog before firing the fatal shot. But who would do this, and why? As he tries to cope with the loss of Hobbes, he soon becomes obsessed with seeking revenge on whoever shot his dog.
..."What I wanted to say to the man was that I didn't have feeling where I should and too much where I shouldn't. You keep away from men like me and you'll be alright in life".
This is a beautifully written, poignant little novel (just over 200 pages) about the dangers of too much isolation and too little love. This book is highly recommended.
....."Except for my dog I lived on my own, for I had never married, though I think I came near once, and so even the silences were mine. It was a place built around silences."
It was this woman(whom he almost married) who prior to her departure for good, helped Julius to find a new companion--- his beloved terrier-mix Hobbes. Julius is happy living alone drinking tea and reading Shakespeare, with his loyal companion by his side. Where the weather is warm he works part time to earn a little money. Except for the sounds of occasional gun fire from hunters in the woods abutting his property, everything is peaceful, just the way Julius likes it.
One day all that changes when Julius finds his dog dying from a shotgun blast. The veterinarian tells Julius that whoever shot Hobbes did it up close and probably even patted the dog before firing the fatal shot. But who would do this, and why? As he tries to cope with the loss of Hobbes, he soon becomes obsessed with seeking revenge on whoever shot his dog.
..."What I wanted to say to the man was that I didn't have feeling where I should and too much where I shouldn't. You keep away from men like me and you'll be alright in life".
This is a beautifully written, poignant little novel (just over 200 pages) about the dangers of too much isolation and too little love. This book is highly recommended.
August 7, 2008
This was a beautifully written and poignant book but the story is disturbing on many levels. A man lives a peaceful existence by himself in the wilds of Maine, until someone deliberately kills his dog. This act of cruelty sends him on a spree of revenge killings. It's hard to follow his thought processes as he seeks to avenge the death of his dog, but I guess that is the point of the story. The writing in this book is exquisite--I stopped to re--read several passages. The author captures the personality of the loner perfectly and offers many insights into human behavior.
February 5, 2017
Ein intensiver Roman, der mit seiner schönen, klaren Sprache eine Art distanzierte Nähe zu dem Geschehen aufbaut, die fast hypnotisierend wirkt. Dazu die Atmosphäre der Wälder im nördlichsten Zipfel Maines, die Kälte, der Schnee, die Stille, das Weiß, das alles umgibt einen beim Lesen wie eine Glocke. Im Plot hat mir am Ende noch das gewisse Etwas gefehlt, ansonsten war "Winter in Maine" aber ein wunderbar andächtiges wie konzentriertes Leseerlebnis.
December 27, 2011
Like pretty much ever other review for this book says, this is incredibly hard to rate. I can't say it was exactly "fun" to read, but it's so compelling, it completely draws you in. And the language is gorgeous. I think you will either click with this book and completely fall into it or you won't and you'll end up hating it.
January 13, 2024
****1/2
April 10, 2021
Stel je voor, je woont in het noorden van Maine, in de bossen, in een blokhut omringd door 3282 boeken en in het gezelschap van Hobbes. Hobbes is een pit bull terriër, die je als jong dier uit een asiel hebt gehaald, in het gezelschap van de enige vrouw die een tijdlang in je nabijheid heeft vertoefd. Je moeder is bij je geboorte overleden en de enige mensen met wie je in de blokhut hebt geleefd, zijn je grootvader en je vader. Beiden liefhebbers van boeken, beiden getekend door ervaringen in diverse oorlogen. Je vader heeft je alle woorden die Shakespeare heeft uitgevonden, geleerd. Zowel je vader als je grootvader zijn gestorven in de New England stoel.. een heerlijke leesstoel, waar je nu zelf regelmatig in zit. Met een boek, natuurlijk.
De vrouw, waarmee je Hobbes hebt opgehaald uit het asiel, heeft een tijdje geleden voor een ander gekozen en sindsdien ben jij Hobbes' en is hij jouw enige gezelschap. De blokhut en de directe omgeving zijn niet alleen een oase van rust voor jou en Hobbes, maar ook voor allerlei andere dieren. De jagers blijven over het algemeen uit de buurt, maar het schieten hoor je wel zodra het jachtseizoen weer begint.
Het is eind oktober, je zit te lezen bij het houtvuur, Hobbes is buiten en je denkt dat je een schot hoort. Dat is dichtbij, denk je nog. Je besluit om Hobbes maar eens binnen te roepen, maar Hobbes komt niet. Tien minuten later, roep je hem nogmaals, maar weer komt Hobbes niet opdagen. Dan doe je iets wat je zelden doet, zeker 's winters. Je kijkt hoe laat het is. Het is vier minuten over drie....
Julius vindt Hobbes enige tijd later, dodelijk gewond geraakt door een kogel. Hij brengt Hobbes nog naar een dierenarts, maar die kan hem niet meer redden. Hij kan alleen nog constateren dat Hobbes van zeer dichtbij is neergeschoten. Julius begraaft Hobbes in het bloembed bij de blokhut en besluit te achterhalen wie verantwoordelijk is voor de dood van Hobbes.
Julius Winsome is een schitterend geschreven verhaal over liefde, eenzaamheid en de verstrekkende gevolgen van geweld zoals gebruikt in oorlogen, en in de jacht op andere dieren. Niet alleen geweld met behulp van geweren, maar ook geweld door woorden. Woorden, zelfs onuitgesproken woorden, kunnen dodelijk zijn.
"The absence of someone comes like a new season, first only in pieces: you see the absence in them long before they leave. In Claire it started with long glances and silence and arrived fully only after she was gone."
De vrouw, waarmee je Hobbes hebt opgehaald uit het asiel, heeft een tijdje geleden voor een ander gekozen en sindsdien ben jij Hobbes' en is hij jouw enige gezelschap. De blokhut en de directe omgeving zijn niet alleen een oase van rust voor jou en Hobbes, maar ook voor allerlei andere dieren. De jagers blijven over het algemeen uit de buurt, maar het schieten hoor je wel zodra het jachtseizoen weer begint.
Het is eind oktober, je zit te lezen bij het houtvuur, Hobbes is buiten en je denkt dat je een schot hoort. Dat is dichtbij, denk je nog. Je besluit om Hobbes maar eens binnen te roepen, maar Hobbes komt niet. Tien minuten later, roep je hem nogmaals, maar weer komt Hobbes niet opdagen. Dan doe je iets wat je zelden doet, zeker 's winters. Je kijkt hoe laat het is. Het is vier minuten over drie....
Julius vindt Hobbes enige tijd later, dodelijk gewond geraakt door een kogel. Hij brengt Hobbes nog naar een dierenarts, maar die kan hem niet meer redden. Hij kan alleen nog constateren dat Hobbes van zeer dichtbij is neergeschoten. Julius begraaft Hobbes in het bloembed bij de blokhut en besluit te achterhalen wie verantwoordelijk is voor de dood van Hobbes.
Julius Winsome is een schitterend geschreven verhaal over liefde, eenzaamheid en de verstrekkende gevolgen van geweld zoals gebruikt in oorlogen, en in de jacht op andere dieren. Niet alleen geweld met behulp van geweren, maar ook geweld door woorden. Woorden, zelfs onuitgesproken woorden, kunnen dodelijk zijn.
"The absence of someone comes like a new season, first only in pieces: you see the absence in them long before they leave. In Claire it started with long glances and silence and arrived fully only after she was gone."
June 12, 2013
Julius Winsome lives in a cabin in the woods alone. Alone after the death of his father. Alone after a brief love affair with a woman who stepped out of the woods onto his porch. And alone after his dog Hobbes is deliberately shot.
Driven - ostensibly - by the loss of Hobbes, he embarks on a course of action surely wrought of madness yet penned as if it were the most rational response.
A beautiful depiction of loneliness - no that word is too trite. Of almost utter solitude. Of a life hemmed in by nature, climate, geography. Set in northern Maine, on the border with Canada, where people are marginalised/ trivialised by the forces of nature. The characters in this novel are mere specks of dust upon the broad brush of landscape. And perhaps that is why we are able to accept Julius' actions and maintain some sympathy for him. At the mercy of the landscape around him, nothing he does makes the impact it ought to.
Which is not to say that the novel lacks impact. It is brutal and unkind. Masculine in all but its portrayal of the natural world. A cruel fable.
A wonderful novel that I would've devoured at the age of 16 and I'm sure I could read again at 90 and still draw something from it.
Driven - ostensibly - by the loss of Hobbes, he embarks on a course of action surely wrought of madness yet penned as if it were the most rational response.
A beautiful depiction of loneliness - no that word is too trite. Of almost utter solitude. Of a life hemmed in by nature, climate, geography. Set in northern Maine, on the border with Canada, where people are marginalised/ trivialised by the forces of nature. The characters in this novel are mere specks of dust upon the broad brush of landscape. And perhaps that is why we are able to accept Julius' actions and maintain some sympathy for him. At the mercy of the landscape around him, nothing he does makes the impact it ought to.
Which is not to say that the novel lacks impact. It is brutal and unkind. Masculine in all but its portrayal of the natural world. A cruel fable.
A wonderful novel that I would've devoured at the age of 16 and I'm sure I could read again at 90 and still draw something from it.
August 31, 2023
برای من همنشینی و همصحبتی با کسی که دنیا و علایقش با دنیام اشتراک داره یکی از بزرگترین لذتهای دنیاست. فکر میکنم دلیل لذتبخش بودن این کتاب برای من هم همین بود. سفر درونی که باهاش همراه شدم فضاسازیها و عناصری داشت که فکر میکنم برای بیشتر مخاطبین کتاب دوست لذتبخش باشه.
+ شخصیت اول کتاب منو یاد تام هاردی توی فیلم the drop انداخت.
+ شخصیت اول کتاب منو یاد تام هاردی توی فیلم the drop انداخت.
December 10, 2017
Weer een fantastisch boek van Gerard Donovan over een man die wraak neemt op de vermeende moordenaars van zijn hond. Zo knap geschreven dat je sympathie bij de hoofdpersoon blijft. Ik hoop nog heel veel van deze schrijver te gaan lezen. Perfect leesvoer voor een winterse dag.
November 30, 2020
Satte 4,5 Sterne.
Eine Geschichte, die richtiges Schnee- und Wintergefühl vermittelt. Erzählen möchte man eigentlich am liebsten möglichst nichts, damit sich jeder Leser einfach hineinfallen lassen kann.
Nur so viel sei gesagt - Julian ist einer der interssantesten Charaktere, über die ich seit langem gelesen habe.
Hier noch mein Lieblingszitat:
"Der Winter ist 50 Bücher lang und heftet einen and die Stille, wie ein aufgespießtes Insekt."
Eine Geschichte, die richtiges Schnee- und Wintergefühl vermittelt. Erzählen möchte man eigentlich am liebsten möglichst nichts, damit sich jeder Leser einfach hineinfallen lassen kann.
Nur so viel sei gesagt - Julian ist einer der interssantesten Charaktere, über die ich seit langem gelesen habe.
Hier noch mein Lieblingszitat:
"Der Winter ist 50 Bücher lang und heftet einen and die Stille, wie ein aufgespießtes Insekt."
September 5, 2020
3,5 Sterne
January 22, 2025
Plukket den opp tilfeldigvis på biblioteket og den imponerte skikkelig. Eg likte virkelig forfatterens skrivestil og den overraskende bråe måten han får frem de kritiske vendepunktene i boken på. Julius Winsome er en mann man får forståelse og medlidenhet for, og en man heier på. Dette er på ingen måte en gladbok bare så det er sagt, men veldig bra for det om.
March 8, 2017
Inhalt: Julius Winsome lebt zurückgezogen in einer Jagdhütte in den Wäldern von Maine. Der Winter steht vor der Tür, er ist allein, aber er hat die über dreitausend Bücher seines Vaters zur Gesellschaft und vor allem seinen Hund Hobbes, einen treuen und verspielten Pitbullterrier. Eines Nachmittags wird sein Hund aus nächster Nähe erschossen, offenbar mit Absicht. Der Verlust trifft Julius mit ungeahnter Wucht. Und er fasst einen erschreckenden Entschluss …
Winter in Main stammt aus der Feder von Gerard Donovan.
Dieses Buch lässt mich ein wenig zwiegespalten zurück. Das Buch beginnt sehr eindringlich durch den Tod des Hundes, dieser Teil konnte mich auch richtig für sich einnehmen. Die wirklich gelungene Sprache, die mir ausgesprochen gut gefallen hat, vermittelte mir zum Beispiel während der ganzen Zeit ein intensives Bild der Einsamkeit und Kälte im winterlichen Maine, und war im Ganzen ein wirklicher Genuss gewesen zu lesen.
Aber leider verliert mich der Autor mit dem weiteren Verlauf der Geschichte, besser gesagt durch die Handlungen des Protagonisten immer ein wenig mehr. Die Entscheidungen die Julius Winsome aufgrund seines Verlustes trifft sind für mich persönlich in keiner Weise nachvollziehbar oder erklärbar und erzeugten einen inneren Widerstand bei mir.
Mein Fazit:
Eine interessante Geschichte, die mich leider im Verlauf nicht ganz überzeugen konnte, aber deren Sprache mich wirklich begeistern konnte.
Winter in Main stammt aus der Feder von Gerard Donovan.
Dieses Buch lässt mich ein wenig zwiegespalten zurück. Das Buch beginnt sehr eindringlich durch den Tod des Hundes, dieser Teil konnte mich auch richtig für sich einnehmen. Die wirklich gelungene Sprache, die mir ausgesprochen gut gefallen hat, vermittelte mir zum Beispiel während der ganzen Zeit ein intensives Bild der Einsamkeit und Kälte im winterlichen Maine, und war im Ganzen ein wirklicher Genuss gewesen zu lesen.
Aber leider verliert mich der Autor mit dem weiteren Verlauf der Geschichte, besser gesagt durch die Handlungen des Protagonisten immer ein wenig mehr. Die Entscheidungen die Julius Winsome aufgrund seines Verlustes trifft sind für mich persönlich in keiner Weise nachvollziehbar oder erklärbar und erzeugten einen inneren Widerstand bei mir.
Mein Fazit:
Eine interessante Geschichte, die mich leider im Verlauf nicht ganz überzeugen konnte, aber deren Sprache mich wirklich begeistern konnte.
February 4, 2025
Die Handlung ist teils verstörend, und es fällt schwer, sich in den Protagonisten mit seinem übertriebenen Rachedrang hineinzuversetzen. Dennoch eröffnet die Geschichte eine ungewöhnliche Perspektive – die eines zutiefst einsamen Menschen, der abgeschieden in einer Waldhütte lebt und mit dem Verlust seines Hundes nicht fertig wird. Seine Gedanken regen zum Nachdenken an, und einige Momente der Erzählung fand ich echt berührend.
Besonders gut gefallen hat mir der Sprachstil, der in eine poetische Richtung geht. Ich konnte mich richtig in die kalte, winterliche Waldlandschaft Maines hineinversetzen und hatte das Gefühl, in einer mit Büchern tapezierten Hütte mit knisterndem Kamin zu sitzen.
Besonders gut gefallen hat mir der Sprachstil, der in eine poetische Richtung geht. Ich konnte mich richtig in die kalte, winterliche Waldlandschaft Maines hineinversetzen und hatte das Gefühl, in einer mit Büchern tapezierten Hütte mit knisterndem Kamin zu sitzen.
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