Op Oloop

by Juan Filloy, Zeynep Çelikel (Translator)

Filloy, kendisini Jorge Luis Borges ve hatta Balzac ile kıyaslayan genç yazarlar ve eleştirmenler tarafından tekrar keşfedildi... Freud Op Oloop'u o kadar beğenmişti ki Filloy'a el yazısıyla yazılmış bir tebrik mektubu gönderdi. - The Telegraph

2000 yılında 106 yaşında aramızdan ayrılan Arjantinli yazar Juan Filloy nihayet Türkçede! 1934 yılında yayımlanan romanı Op Oloop, Buenos Aires'te yaşayan Fin istatistikçi Optimus Oloop'un sıradışı bir gününe odaklanıyor. Yaşamını da mesleğinde olduğu gibi ölçerek yaşamaya alışmış kahramanın sıradan bir günü başına gelen bir trafik kazasıyla altüst olur. Filloy'un düzmece dili, Optimus Oloop'un ruhsal çöküşüne giden yolu an be an döşer. Ruhun felsefecisi bir yazardan, çağına olağanüstü bir bakış.

“Biz Arjantinliler gerçek mizahçılarımızın sonuncusu olan Juan Filloy’u da kaybettik. Filloy, ruhun filozofuydu; 3 asra da tanıklık etmiş bir adamdı o, çünkü zamanın akıntısına kapılmadan nasıl yaşayacağını hep bilmişti.” — Luisa Valenzuela

Juan Filloy, Shakespeare ve Max Ernst'in bildiği gibi mizah her yeri istila etmiş durumda. - Julio Cortázar

“Henry Miller ve Céline'in gösterdikleri üzere, özgürlüğü kullanmak önemli bir meseledir ve bir başka önemli mesele de Filloy'un bunu onlardan önce gerçekleştirmiş olmasıdır.” — Bernardo Verbitsky

Genres: Fiction, Spanish Literature, Novels, Latin American, 20th Century, Literature

240 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1934

About the author

Juan Filloy (1 August 1894 – July 15, 2000) was an Argentinian writer. At various times, he was also a swimmer and a boxing referee. He spoke seven languages. Most of his life was spent in Rio Cuarto, south of Córdoba, where he served as a judge.

He received many honors and awards during his lifetime, including a nomination for the Nobel Prize. He wrote 55 novels, all of which were given titles with seven letters: "Caterva", "¡Estafen!", "Aquende", "La Purga", "Metopas", "Periplo", "Sexamor", "Tal Cual" and "Zodíaco" are among the best known. He also composed over 6,000 palindromes and coined words which have passed into general usage.

He was friends with (and influenced) Julio Cortázar and Jorge Luis Borges. He was also an acquaintance of Sigmund Freud. He died of natural causes while sleeping, shortly before his 106th birthday. He often said that he wanted to live in three centuries. His burial place is in the "Cementerio San Jerónimo" in Córdoba, Argentina.

Reviews

[Glenn Russell]

1930s photo of statisticians compiling data

Back in the 1930s, improved mechanization became the driving force transforming society on all levels. Recall Charlie Chaplin's 1936 Modern Times. And who better to deal with mountains of data produced by those spinning mechanized gears, gyrating parts, people, places and things forming society than an accomplished statistician?

Juan Filloy's 1934 Op Oloop is about a Finnish statistician residing in Buenos Aires, a man obsessed with living according to a fixed method and rigid timetable. "Op Oloop was method personified - an accomplished executioner of spontaneity: method made word; all his hopes, desires, feelings channeled into the vessel of method." And Op Oloop calibrates his daily timetable down to the minute.

Op Oloop is a very funny novel written by one of the greatest overlooked Latin American authors of all times. Oh, yes, Juan Filloy (1894-2000) published twenty-seven novels but only two have been translated into English - Op Oloop and Caterva, both works drawing comparisons to Joyce's Ulysses.

A few quick strokes on Juan Filloy: He was born into a working-class family of immigrants from Córdoba in northern Argentina. Rather than moving to Buenos Aires, the epicenter of culture in Argentina, he spent his entire adult life in Río Cuarto, a city in the province of Córdoba. A accomplished swimmer, boxing referee, caricaturist, lawyer and judge, he could read and speak seven languages, was a lover of palindromes (he wrote over 6,000) and authored articles, stories, dramas, hundreds of sonnets and all those novels: 7 between age 36-45 and then, following a gap of 32 years, 20 between age 77-103, every single one of his novels having a title of seven letters. A true eccentric, Filloy usually published his works in self-funded editions with limited circulation.

The novel follows Optimus “Op” Oloop beginning at 10:00 on a Sunday morning and ending on 5:49 Monday morning. Noting exact times is requisite as Mr. Op Oloop thinks, speaks, moves and acts in accord with precise timetables – case in point: he must discontinue writing an invitation to his closest friend since it is now 10:00 and he scheduled his writing between 7:00 and 10:00. That's the rule and rules cannot be broken.

Op's Buenos Aires odyssey eventually takes him to a banquet he's hosting in honor of his getting married (actually, this evening dinner comprises the bulk of the novel with Op's guests being a string of his friends: a French pimp, a submarine captain, the head of city sanitation, a traffic controller and a career medical student) and then to a house of pleasure where he'll be with prostitute number one thousand (we can imagine Op Oloop keeping a log on things like various sexual positions and number of orgasms). However, I will loop back and begin with Op's mental meltdown at a health club when a pedicurist suggests he deal with his corns by soaking his feet every night.

"Sometimes impatience boils over in even the most phlegmatic of creatures. Op Oloop suffered from this fundamental weakness. It was surfacing. He couldn't bear having let slip, and spontaneously, a belief he ought to have guillotined with his two lips the moment it strayed into his mouth."

Nietzsche would nod in understanding. Dionysian fury possesses a power difficult to contain and once a crack opens in an otherwise rational and orderly mind, watch out. Op Oloop loses control and begins shouting at the pedicurist, repeating: “I have not got a single night to spare!” Matter of fact, Op even scrambles the letters in his tirade. “There was a moment when he believed chaos had entirely conquered his mind. The words tumbled about capriciously like a troupe of acrobats at a dress rehearsal. Never in his life had he endured such a sickening sensation.” From this point forward, Op becomes progressively more unwound and the tale's over-the-top hilarity reminded me of skits from Monty Python. Come to think of it, John Cleese would make a perfect Op Oloop.

“But sometimes this is impossible: the cerebral hemispheres, intricate labyrinths even when they fill the cranial cavity, are all the more impenetrable when they fill both cheeks of the posterior. As has already been stated: some people's brains border their anal regions. Thus, their senses are dulled, and the psychopathological pestilence is such that the intrepid scholar explorer inevitably butts up against a dead end.”

You have to love the way Filloy employs artful language to allude to people whose brains are in their ass. Also, “butts up against a dead end” - an instance of the author's wordplay, bawdy and poetic, reminiscent of Cuban master wordsmith and pugnacious punster, G. Cabrera Infante. Special kudos extended to Lisa Dillman for her rendering Filloy's novel into smooth, eminently readable English.

“Again, that obese fellow blacked his way, his colossal jelly-belly quivering like some jury-rigged shock absorber.”

Ah, one of the many memorable metaphors and similes readers will enjoy on nearly every page. And there's neologisms aplenty - “They’ll never abelardize us!” For fans of Raymond Quineau and Geroges Perec, pre-Oulipoian Op Oloop will make for a frisky frolic.

And Op Oloop's actual mode of speech? Here's on main man responding to a stunned interlocutor witnessing his psychic clockwork gone haywire:

“Who could have imagined! You, so erudite, so strict, so exact...”
“Forget your compassion. Don't annoy me. Meticulousness can be flaunted only until one's instinct rebels. I was methodical in spite of myself, tempted by the tawdry, rational benefits of such a life. My entire existence had been channeled so as to flow freely into servitude. I'd obstructed convenience, constricting myself so as to make the best use of every single hour. Regimen, order, culture...trinkets garbage, baubles! True culture is a parrot's pstitacosis...Ha, Ha, Ha!...”

Oh, reader, if what I've written sounds in any way appealing, you are in for an exceptional literary treat. Pick up a copy of Juan Filloy's novel and linger and luxuriate with this overlooked classic.



“In effect, all men systematically distill themselves throughout their lives, increasing their internal extravagance while decreasing their external luminosity. How, then, are we to explain this manifest failure on the part of a thoroughly proper man to balance his humors? How to justify these oscillations, be they brusque or subtle, when in Op Oloop the equilibrium and tranquility of equinoctial well-being had always, to this point, reigned supreme?”


Argentine author Juan Filloy, 1894-2000 (yes, he lived to age 106)

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 5 out of 5]

A little pearl with outrageously elegant and insightful prose. Mr. Filloy lived to 106 (died in 2000), and refereed boxing matches and wrote 6000 palindromes. This novel concerns a Finnish statistician on the day of his 1000th sexual conquest. If that isn’t enough to pique your interest, you are beyond help.

[Nicole · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have solved the riddle of why this book was privately published. It's because it's not very good.

Op Oloop is nuts, because he's obsessed with numbers and order and schedules, no wait, because he's in love, no wait, maybe it's the profundity of his philosophical musings, oh no actually he's just nuts and that excuses the fact that this narrative is a bullshit muddle of random, uh, stuff?, with no thematic or imagistic or other ties (beyond an adolescent obsession with sex and boobies), other than the fact that everything "happens" in a single day. Personally, I think his nutsiness probably stems from untreated syphilis from the 999 prostitutes he's slept with (and LOGGED), but I appear to be alone in this.

The writing, too, is bad beyond the meandering pointless structural problems, careening wildly from overblown pompous prose description to self-consciously vulgar dialog in which all characters speak in the same way (except Op Oloop, but then he's a crazy philosopher, a philosophical crazy, and also he's in love, except for that he's also visiting his 1000th whore tonight, except for that his love is pure, as we know because he tiptoed through the phalluses with his beloved that time while they were both in an astral projection that came from the inside of their collective heads, and NO I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP, it really is that bad.)

To spare you reading it yourself, I will tell you what happens: he discovers that his 1000th whore is secretly the daughter of the woman he abandoned years ago in Finland and who went mad without him, she is also, then, the child of his mind and soul, and he thinks she should move in with his fiancée and be their charge. Then, in a fit of sadness about....something....love?....he kills himself leaving a numbered will which is meant to evoke the completely abandoned theme of his being a statistician. The police officer investigating his crack on the head will never reappear, meaning that the book's high point is just after the traffic jam in the very earliest pages. We do not know where he goes after his death, but you are free to imagine a world filled with nubile thighs that you must, as a test, either embrace or resist, it's not clear which. So come on, reader, and tiptoe through the phalluses with me.

If this had been published by a press other than the Dalkey archive, I very much doubt that people would be talking it up as some kind of lost treasure. It should have stayed in the vanity publishing graveyard from which it came.

[Ronald Morton · Rating 4 out of 5]

A playful and unpredictable masterpiece of Argentinean literature, raising comparisons to Ulysses and serving as a primary inspiration to authors such as Julio Cortázar and Alfonso Reyes

-From Dalkey Archive Press

Op Oloop was the first novel of Argentine author Juan Filloy. Originally privately published in 1934, it was first translated and made available in English in 2009 through the fine efforts of Dalkey Archive Press. Through the course of his 106 year life, Juan Filloy wrote 55 novels, every one of them having a title consisting of exactly 7 letters. This book, as of now, is the only work of Filloy to be available in English, which is, as is the case with many untranslated authors, goddamn absurd.

Simplified to a single sentence, Op Oloop is a book about its titular character, a Finnish statistician living in Argentina, who lives his life in such a way that every minute of every day is planned and accounted for in advance; and the calamity that befalls him when a street accident causes him to be late for an appointment. It is both thoughtful and absurd, philosophical and vulgar: it is, constantly, elevated by the splendid compositional skill of Juan Filloy.

”I hear and see my failures at all times, and with absolute accuracy. And I suffer, unable to defeat my undignified genius, strangling everything from the tiniest whims to the most overwhelming urges. And yet… I find that a new insurrection, timid yesterday, implacable today, is trying to create chaos in the already crowded house of my mind. To no avail. Constraint has long since castrated my need to be something in the eyes of the world. Instead I’ve only managed to be some thing”

Let’s start briefly, with the “comparisons to Ulysses” thing. It’s fair in its own way. Filloy was a polyglot, and makes all references in Op Oloop in their original language, with no footnoting. Op Oloop, in addition, takes place in a single day, is playful in its use of language, while also being difficult to consume thanks to its author’s love of obscure and underutilized words. It is both mannered and vulgar, and stands on the edge of stodgy conservatism and heady modernism. It is also, at times, quite funny. Unlike Ulysses though it is heavily front loaded – the reader is basically overwhelmed by Filloy’s prose for the first 100 or so pages before the book is bogged down by a lengthy dinner scene where much of the playfulness (though, thankfully, not the humor) is set aside. The final fourth or so of the book returns to the strength of the opening pages. So it’s a bit inconsistent, which is fair for a first novel. In fact, the strength of the opening and closing sections is fairly amazing for a first novel. Also, unlike Ulysses, much of this book shows its age (the opening hundred pages or so being, again, the exception), and while it starts out feeling fairly timeless (it wasn’t until the middle section that I even looked up who Juan Filloy was and recognized when the book was originally written) it ends up feeling very much of a time and place. Unfortunately, that time and place is basically a decade earlier than when it was written. I think that a better comparison – instead of Ulysses – is more to Zeno's Conscience, an amazing work, but one of less significance and lasting importance than Ulysses. Filloy’s prose simply strikes me as being closer to Svevo’s, and Oloop compares closer to Zeno than to Bloom.

None of that is meant to be a knock – Ulysses is absolute upper-echelon reading, and comparisons to it should not be made lightly.

Let none of that distract you – this is a book well worth your time. It is funny, it is well written. Filloy’s love of language – he reportedly “mined the entire dictionary for his books” (it shows) – makes for a wonderful and exhilarating read. The book does feel a bit dated – that’s okay, it’s 80 years old – and yet it has hints of modernity and complexity that few authors were dallying with at the time.

[...]the fictions we inhabit frequently change course when these narratives become interpersonal.

Isn’t Dalkey supposed to be publishing another Filloy work soon? Get the hell on with it.

[WillemC · Rating 4 out of 5]

De in Buenos Aires verblijvende Finse statisticus Op Oloop heeft zijn leven met behulp van een rigide methode volledig onder controle, tot enkele onverwachte gebeurtenissen - waaronder een file en een aanvaring in een badhuis - op de dag dat hij een belangrijk diner organiseert roet in het eten gooien; wat volgt is een existentiële en metafysische crisis. Alhoewel Filloys woordenschat soms wat te diep gaat, het diner in kwestie te lang duurt en het hoofdpersonage soms echt niet te volgen theorieën lanceert, is "Op Oloop" een aanrader; uniek, citeerbaar en moeilijk met iets anders te vergelijken, maar toch zeer jaren dertig.

"Ik protesteer tegen de eruditie die zich de mooie dingen uit het verleden toeëigent en de sublieme feiten van de huidige werkelijkheid minacht."

"Trouwens, ik koester zo'n haat jegens het verleden dat ik systematisch heb geweigerd kinderen te krijgen, uit angst dat hun leeftijd mij zal confronteren met mijn ouderdom."

"De zon maakt me opstandig."

"Het reglement verbiedt om op de banken te slapen, in de bosjes de liefde te bedrijven en in de Botanische Tuin zelfmoord te plegen."

"Er zijn veel soorten verstandsverbijstering met een neiging tot het vormen van neologismen."

[Morgan (Turbo) · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked this book, though a few times it dragged. Best part of it was the verbose discription. Here's just a samply that was my favorite:

One day, while eating steak Provençal, I considered the question of the existence of God. I said to myself, ‘The world exists: we have it here before us. Now, if one needs a bricklayer simply to make a ball of mortar, cement, and water, then clearly vast materials and ‘supr-subject’ were required in order to create the world. But researching the origin of these materials and the genealogy of this hypothetical miracle worker, I was struck by an unfathomable mystery: since nothing can come from nothing, causality must predate intention. This drove me to distraction. So I gave up on my steak, gristly and absolute as the notion of God, and I plunged into the appetizing reality of the pommes frittes that served as garnish. The garlic and parsley pointed to un certain logique in the same way that theology is the garlic and parsley of believers. And thus I realized that our senses grasp objective reality just as it is, while the brain plays tricks, transcendentalizing it. The intellect, dear friends, is the greatest liar there is. The entire world is nothing more than a mental preconception. It does not exist as a concrete reality, only an illusory one. Therefore, God is not a subject, but a parasitic entelechy located in the consciousness—just as a rubbery steak is located in the stomach. Therefore: it is only appearance. And since appearance is what it is not, but only simulates –like a conman—I came to the conclusion that the idea of God and rubbery steaks are both things that people willingly swallow, but which are toxic and, finally, stomach churning.

[Sini · Rating 4 out of 5]

De Argentijnse schrijver Juan Filloy was (en is) nauwelijks bekend, zelfs niet in eigen land, ook al werd hij bewonderd door de grote Julio Cortazar. De avontuurlijke uitgeverij Coppens en Frenks vertaalde niettemin in 1994 "Op Oloop", de eerste Filloy- vertaling ter wereld. Een vindingrijke vertaling, van Arie van der Wal, met een enthousiasmerend en informatief nawoord van Mempo Giardinelli. En een heel aantrekkelijk leesavontuur bovendien, net zo aantrekkelijk als "De bende" dat ik een aantal jaren geleden las.

"Op Oloop", in eigen beheer uitgegeven in 1934, is het wonderlijke tragi- komische verhaal van iemand die geestelijk helemaal desintegreert door de chaos van zijn steeds obsessievere liefdesgevoelens,. En dat terwijl hij zijn leven juist had ingericht volgens de principes van methode, statistiek, orde en regelmaat. Maar de vleesgeworden methodicus Op Oloop ervaart al snel hoe de chaos en de verwarring zijn methodische brein binnendringen. Wat mooi voelbaar wordt gemaakt door zinnen als "Plotseling vielen zijn gedachten in een put van lucht". Of door zijn nogal heftige reactie wanneer iemand hem, niet zonder reden overigens maar eigenlijk zonder veel nadruk, voor 'gek' uitmaakt: "Op Oloop bleef als versteend staan. Zijn lippen vertrokken zich voor het uiten van een scheldwoord. Geconcentreerd op zijn antwoord kregen zijn ogen een bijna perplexe uitdrukking. Maar zijn poging mislukte. Van de grove verwensing die voorafgegaan werd door woeste gebaren bleef niet veel meer over dan een gedempt gemompel: 'Gek!? Gek? Gek... "Gek". Gek! Gek. Gek! "Gek". Gek.... Gek? Gek?!' Het woord onderging alle denkbare nuances. In omgekeerde richting daalde het af en klom op langs die in de persoonlijkheid ingebouwde toonladder en gaf het een tot dan toe onbekende betekenis". En ook in veel andere passages maakt Filloy de toenemende mentale desintegratie van Op Oploop op heel elegante wijze voelbaar. Bijvoorbeeld: "Toen hij opstond bevonden zich de schitterende uitstalkasten, de uitgebreide archieven, de kostbare sieraden van de geest zich buiten hem, waren ze, in een andere vorm, overgebracht naar de hall. Hij kon die overgang niet verklaren. Hij had hoogstens een gevoel van enorme leegte. Zijn hoofd weergalmde niet in zijn normale formaat maar had zich vergroot tot de omvang van het vertrek waar hij zich bevond./ Hij trilde van top tot teen. / Werktuiglijk zette hij zijn hoed op en tastte naar zijn wandelstok. Hij liep naar de voordeur. Terwijl hij de vestibule overstak had hij een merkwaardige gewaarwording. Hij kon er niet door. De kubus van lucht die door het volume van zijn hoofd verplaatst werd dwong hem tot de grootst mogelijke inspanning. Toen hij eenmaal het trottoir bereikt had lichtte zijn nog altijd bleke, bedrukte gezicht op door een verrukkelijk expansief gevoel van ruimte".

Filloy lezen betekent voor mij opveren bij elke zin. Want die zinnen vind ik steeds verrassend en origineel, vaak aantrekkelijk onorthodox door hun combinatie van zwaarte en lichtheid, en ook wonderlijk tragi- komisch. Het eerste citaat bijvoorbeeld vind ik verontrustend door alle desintegratie die er voelbaar in wordt, maar tegelijk grappig door de herhalingen van het woord "gek" en intrigerend door het beeld van de "ingebouwde toonladder". En in het tweede citaat word ik gefrappeerd door die enorme innerlijke leegte die tegelijk een expansief gevoel van ruimte mogelijk maakt. "Op Oploop" is kortom een heerlijk dubbelzinnig boek. Op Oloops omarming van methode en regelmaat bijvoorbeeld, als vergeefs weermiddel tegen de chaos, is naar mijn idee heel fraai en tevens intellectueel mooi doordacht, maar tegelijk ook aandoenlijk in zijn vergeefsheid. Op Oloops toenemende innerlijke desintegratie is pijnlijk en tragisch, maar tegelijk ook een bevrijding van het juk van zijn innerlijke orde. Zodat die desintegratie en verwarring wel pijnlijk en angstwekkend is, maar tegelijk een opening betekent van nieuwe ervaringshorizonten. En zo is "Op Oloop" voortdurend dubbelzinnig, en qua plot en stijl net zo onorthodox als de chaos die Op Oloops innerlijke orde voortdurend verstoort. Wat nog versterkt wordt door de prikkelende paradoxen die Filloy rijkelijk rondstrooit.

Vrij vroeg in de roman heeft Op Oloop zijn eerste instorting, waarbij hij zelfs zijn bewustzijn verliest: juist die instorting echter maakt de weg vrij voor een gedroomde, hallucinatoire eenwording met zijn geliefde Franziska (die op dat moment ook buiten bewustzijn is). Misschien is die eenwording zelfs een daadwerkelijke telepathische eenwording, en onthechten Op Oloop en Franziska zich voor even van alle conventionele grenzen van tijd en ruimte. Maar voor mij blijft dat dubbelzinnig: misschien gaat het om een soort telepathische ontstijging, maar misschien alleen om een waanvoorstelling, zij het een waanvoorstelling die voor Op Oloop dan heel essentieel is. Bovendien heeft die waanvoorstelling of telepathische eenwording ook demonische en lachwekkende trekjes, terwijl de liefdesverhouding met Franziska het hele boek door zowel verheven als potsierlijk is. Dus wat lezen we hier? Een droomscene waarin twee geliefden alle grenzen van tijd en ruimte transcenderen, of een totale parodie daarop? Een tijdelijke overwinning van Op Oloop op het juk van de methodes en een bevrijding van zijn verbeeldingskracht, of een bizarre waanvoorstelling die laat zien hoe Op Oloops geest meer en meer afbrokkelt? Naar mijn idee blijft dat dubbelzinnig en meerduidig. En mij bevalt dat helemaal prima.

Die meerduidigheid neemt nog toe als Op Oloop later een banket heeft met een aantal vrienden, waaronder een verzamelaar van geluiden en een intellectuele pooier. Dat banket heeft hij georganiseerd om het heuglijke feit te gedenken dat hij later die nacht zijn duizendste bordeelbezoek gaat beleven. Totale kolder natuurlijk, net als veel andere voorvallen en uitspraken tijdens dat banket. Door Op Oloops nog verder toenemende desintegratie neemt die kolder bovendien hand over hand toe. Toch is ook dat banket weer rijk aan prikkelende denkbeelden, diepzinnige of juist quasi- diepzinnige filosofische terzijdes, verheven of juist groteske uitspraken over de liefde, en intrigerende paradoxen van Op Oloop zelf en de intellectuele pooier. Na dat banket beleeft Op Oloop zijn duizendste bordeelbezoek, en in het verlengde daarvan bereikt hij "de andere rivier van de liefde", namelijk de dood. Maar die ondergang, hoe tragisch ook, heeft toch zijn komische en groteske momenten. Bovendien, Op Oloop is helemaal van het padje door zijn toenemende verwarring die door dronkenschap nog wordt versterkt, en het is zonder meer tragi- komisch dat hij, aldus beneveld, de duizendste prostituee aanziet voor een gedroomde dochter of een droomliefde. Maar tegelijk heeft die hallucinatoire en illusoire passie een niet geringe schoonheid, en kun je Op Oloop benijden of bewonderen om zijn rijkdom van gevoel. Een rijkdom die misschien juist vrijkomt door zijn instorting, omdat die instorting een bevrijding is van het keurslijf van zijn zelfopgelegde orde en methodiek. Op Oloop is en blijft dus een heel dubbelzinnige figuur: de vleesgeworden methode en de vleesgeworden irrationaliteit, een ongeneeslijk romanticus die grote hoogten en tragi- komische diepten bereikt, iemand die bewondering verdient en die lachwekkend is. En door die dubbelzinnigheid ontsnapt hij aan elke methode.

Ik vond "Op Oloop" kortom een aantrekkelijk dubbelzinnig en onorthodox boek. En dus een mooi tegenwicht tegen de al te ordelijke en ingesleten patronen in mijn eigen hoofd. Een heel ander boek dan "De bende", maar wel net zo stimulerend in zijn anarchisme. Jammer dat Filloy zo onbekend is, jammer dat er maar twee boeken van hem in het Nederlands zijn vertaald. Maar met beide boeken heb ik veel plezier gehad.

[Andy Weston · Rating 4 out of 5]

Optimus ‘Op’ Oloop is a man bound by routine. Locked into patterns that dictate his every movement his life is carefully timed with a detailed schedule for each day.

This is set in Buenos Aires in between the wars, in the 1930s, with Oloop as a communist, but a successful capitalist businessman. He treats workers poorly, offers unwanted advice about unions and is quick to offer sarcastic criticism. He considers himself an expert on world affairs, all down to the strict regimentation of his life. As a statistician he keeps his nose in ledgers, understanding the world through its use of building materials, condoms, and the reclaimed remains of soldiers lost on the battlefields of the Great War. Though he himself is emotionally damaged by the horrors he saw in an unsuccessful communist uprising in Finland.

But, on the way to an appointment with his finance he is involved in a minor traffic accident and his verbal outburst makes him late. His downfall begins. Undone, the speeches he delivers become morally dubious and when he eventually reaches his appointment he has a head injury, caused by an incident with the Finnish Ambassador.

Though it plays with the politics of the day, an economically collapsed society, the overall feel to the book is one of humour, with plenty of bad language, toilet humour, and allusions to sex.
Many episodes from the piece stand-out, though as a whole, the novel doesn’t quite hold together. It’s the sort of book I think I would have appreciated more in my younger days.

Filloy himself had a fascinating life, and one that spanned three different centuries. He died at the age of 106 in the year 2000. He was an excellent swimmer, a dedicated boxing referee, and a talented caricaturist; he spoke seven languages and practiced as a judge in the small town of Río Cuarto, where he spent most of his life. He was also a world champion palindromist, and searched the entire dictionary for his books, coining new words, and using only seven letters in the titles of all his works, though unfortunately at present, only one other, Caterva, a book of six short stories, has been translated into English.

[Elif · Rating 2 out of 5]

...Tartışmayalım. Ben çok yol aldım, çok acı çektim. Dünyanın her yerinde eğlencenin ancak kısıtlı bir kitle için var olduğunu gördüm. Ve ben her yerde başkaldırdım.
-Siz mi başkaldırdınız?
-Evet. Yoksa sözcüklerin kahramanca taşıdığı anlamların içindeki soğukkanlı başkaldırının en nitelikli ve etkin başkaldırı olduğunu bilmez misiniz?
.
Op Oloop kitaplığımda usul usul zamanını bekleyen kitaplarımdandı. Arka kapağı fazlasıyla merak uyandırıcı olduğundan seveceğimden oldukça emin gibiyim. Yine de nedensizce elime almam uzun sürdü. Nihayet okuduğum için kendimi ayrıca tebrik diyorum çünkü bitirmek için ayrı bir gayret gösterdim. Kitapta zamana takıntılı bir istatistikçinin 1 gününü anlatıyor. Mizahi bir dil kullanılmaya çalışılmış ve hem kurgusu hem de hikayesi olabildiğinde dolu tutulmaya çalışılmış. İşte tam burada beni kaybetmeye başlayan bir yapıya sahip. Sürekli olarak başka bir olay aktarma çabasında olduğundan bir yerden sonra sadece daldan dala atlıyormuş gibi hissettiriyor. Anlatımı da yer yer sade ama çoğunlukla bir şeyler söyleme ihtiyacı hissettiğinden yer yer yoran bir tarzı var. Kitapta çok güzel cümleler olduğunu belirtmek gerek bu konuda yazarın neden sevildiğini görmek mümkün. Ama genel olarak kitabı okumaktan keyif alamadım. Latin Amerika edebiyatından hoşlananlar bakabilir.

[Lukáš Palán · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bom dia, Váš literární Miloš Zeman je zpět s další recenzí. Tentokrát se podíváme na zoubek Op Oloopovi. Op Oloop je hlavní hrdina týhle valby, která se odehrává v Argentině, zemi, kde jsou jen fotbalisti a dluhy. Jižní Amerika je obecně něco jako moja vesnice natáhnutá na celej kontinent. Ale to je fuk! Nerad bych odbočoval, nejsem totiž v autě a nemám sebou blinkr.

Op je Fin, tudíž kdyby se objevil ve francouzském filmu, byl by s ním hned konec! HAHAHA! Ale tady ne, tady si chodí po ulici i v domech a všude možně, jak to už Finové, kteří nejsou na vozíčku, dělají. V tomhle jsou dost podobní třeba i Čechům, kteří mají nohy. Na začátku tedy sledujeme jeho klasický skedžule, kdy jde do sauny, kam jinam. Při tom mohutně filozofuje, což je ještě umocněné faktem, že je statistik, takže je to dost hutná valba a já se těšil na pořádný lebeční bublifuk. Jenže po sauně se nasadí brzda a děj se přesune na párty, kde je několik postarších džentlemanů a jak je v takovýhle knížce skupinka lidí co mají koňak a cigára, je jasné, že tady se do Duplexu nepude!! Naopak, začne pořádné dada patrasová! Dialogy se vedou prakticky o všem, Op Oloop si mentálně odchází ulevit do mozkomíšního laloku, kde se potkává se svojí láskou Franciškou a ty kámo jestli na tohle nepřistoupíš, tak umřeš. To si piš. Chvílemi mi to dost připomínalo Nadsamce, který se tady na prvním řádku tvářil jako normální kniha, ale druhý řádek řekl "tak todle teda ne."

Já dávám za kabaret lingvistických smyků 8/10, bohužel v knize nebyl ani tank, ani Jirka Krampol, proto nemohu jít výše.

[Adanma · Rating 2 out of 5]

Maybe this book was simply beyond me, but whether or not it was, I didn't really like it at all. Long, elaborate words have their place, but reading shouldn't be a chore. I had to look up a word on almost every page and each time I learned the meaning, I just questioned how necessary it was to use it. By the end, it almost didn't feel worth it, but I felt I had to finish it. There were a few parts which were quite good, but all in all it lacked any justification for its superfluous writing.
Regardless of the writing, the novel's plot was quite good and it did get quite interesting, raising a lot of questions in my mind. If you can handle the difficulty it takes to get through it, you might enjoy iy.

[Ezequiel]

Maravilloso despliegue vocabular.

[D · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es muy interesante leer una novela que parece anticiparse a obras como Pnin de nabokov, desde Argentina, y hacerlo mucho mejor. El registro casi absurdo de Filloy no es surrealista, ni meramente cómico: de hecho, hay lugar para la tragedia. Creo que esta novela me dio una clave para leer mejor a César Aira.

[Howard · Rating 4 out of 5]

loved the abstract cover on this translation published by Dalkley Archive which complimented the odd title and odd contents. its Argentinian novellist / boxer / high court judge Filloy's 1934 novel and the first of his in English translation. the opening line of the blurb tells us it's about a Finnish statistician living in Buenos Aires. starts as a comic piece, there's a bit of hallucinogenic sexual telepathy and almost half the book is taken up with conversation at a dinner party. for all its enjoyable elements, and there are many, this is a slog to get through. interminable sections are given to the seemingly random fluctuations of the nuances of Oloop's internal moods but i guess that might be the point in instructive terms

[Guido · Rating 2 out of 5]

No había leído nada de Filloy antes que esto, de hecho ni lo conocía. Llegué a él por recomendación y me decidí por Op Oloop porque es una de sus obras más conocidas. He de admitir que no me resultó un autor fácil, tiene una prosa particular, usa muchas palabras que no son habituales, construye frases de una manera que a veces me pareció insólita o rebuscada. Su prosa y su sintaxis no son para cualquiera, es un escritor que desafía al lector. Hablando puntualmente de la novela, y en mi opinión personal, por momentos se torna muy densa y te pueden dar ganas de dejarla, y por otros (más breves) te motiva a seguir; sobre todo al final que tiene un ritmo más rápido que los primeros 3/4 del libro. No estoy seguro si recomendaría Op Oloop o no, pero eso depende ya de cada uno y sus gustos.

[Sean · Rating 3 out of 5]

From my review at Popmatters:


Juan Filloy was an Argentine writer with a dramatic bio that includes boxing referee and palindromist. His writing exhibits the love of words and philosophy of the latter; the no-nonsense, unflinching eye of the former. He lived to be 106, having died in 2000, and in some circles is placed alongside some of Latin America's best writers of the 20th century, such as his friends Julio Cortazar and Jorge Luis Borges.

As if all that weren't enough, he's also funny.

Entire review is at Popmatters: http://www.popmatters.com/pm/review/1...

[posoclo · Rating 1 out of 5]

El único libro que leí de Filloy y me costaría reunir la fuerza para leer otro (aunque Caterva me llama la atención). Empecé completamente predispuesto a que me gustara ya que reúne todos los elementos que me gustan de los libros - pero quedé desilusionado por la obsesión con las palabras ultra-complicadas y oscuras. Como decía Borges, no porque existan muchas palabras en el diccionario significa que hay que usarlas todas. Filloy parecería que busca las más complicadas artificialmente. Por otro lado, el libro funcionaría mejor como obra de teatro - teatro del absurdo. En fin, me forcé a terminarlo pero me aburrió ampliamente. Una lástima porque quería que me gustara. No lo recomiendo.

[Kozmokitap · Rating 5 out of 5]

Op Oloop oldukça farklı , okuyucuyu zorlayan , bittikten sonra düşünmeye sebep olan tabiri caiz ise beyin yakan bir kitap. Okurken bazı cümleleri daha iyi anlayabilmek için iki bazen de üç kez okuduğum oldu. Cümleleri daha iyi algılayabilmek için tekrar tekrar okudum bazı cümleleri . Freud da kitabı okuduktan sonra el yazısı ile bir mektup yazarak kitabı çok beğendiğini söylemiştir yazara.

Kitapta farklı bir güne tanıklık ederken aynı zamanda matematiksel bir zekaya sahip Op Oloop'un duygusal ve psikolojik durumuna da tanıklık ediyoruz.

https://kozmokitap.blogspot.com.tr/20...

[Kate · Rating 2 out of 5]

When life is as ordered as a mathematical equation, you can't just skip a digit whenever you feel like it.

No one is more a slave than he who worships freedom.

Take as many precautions against happiness as against the plague.

My head is a pocket-sized edition of hell.

"All the errors and inconsistencies of the Creator reach their climax in man."

The word is man's eviternal anomaly.

"I have lived and loved, and closed the door."

[Cachenora · Rating 1 out of 5]

Después de mil años me lo he terminado pero huelga decir que no es mi estilo de libro. El autor será un genio pero yo no he entendido casi nada por su vocabulario complejo y también por su retorcida trama filosófica, en mi opinión claro está.

[kirsten · Rating 5 out of 5]

statistician falls in love. and well goes crazy. v. fun.

[Juan Ortiz Murillo · Rating 4 out of 5]

uno de los libros con mayor libertad creativa para hacer sus personajes interactúen con filosofías sobre el amor, la economía y la vida.

[Alberto Palumbo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pubblicato in italiano per Ago Edizioni, ve ne parlerò meglio su altro schemi. È la prima volta che leggo un sudamericano esistenzialista, e il risultato è ottimo!

[Banu Gür · Rating 5 out of 5]

Harika, esprili, canlı, anarşik bir hikaye ve onun diğer eserlerini okumayı sabırsızlıkla bekleyeceğim. Ama sadece bunun Türkçe olması ve Arjantinli arkadaşlarının onun çalışmalarını takdir edememesi ne kadar üzücü.
Belki de Latin Amerikan bir yazar gibi değil de modernist bir Avrupalı gibi yazdığındandır, kimbilir.

Bir kaç küçük not:
- Julio Cortazar onu seviyordu, Seksek' in 108. bölümünde Caterva' sından (Henüz Türkçe'de yok, ha sahi niye yok?) bahsediyor.
- Freud, Op Oloop' un hayranıydı ve bu da Filloy a bir tebrik mektubu yazmasına sebep oldu.

Felsefi görüşlere sık sık rastladığımız hikayede, Freud'un hayran olacağı kadar psikanalitik çözülmeler ve tespitler de var.
Eksantrik karakter yaratımı açısından çok başarılı. John Kennedy Toole 'un Alıklar birliği romanındaki Ignatius Reilly'i hatırlattı bana ve muzip bir gülümseme ile okudum Op Oloop'u.

[Patrizio Daveri · Rating 4 out of 5]

Libro mattissimo. Barocco, eccessivo, scandaloso, a volte sconclusionato. Filloy si diverte a giocare con le parole e il protagonista, con i suoi deliri e gli eccessi, è il suo alter ego, che mette a nudo come in una seduta di psicoanalisi il suo rapporto con l’amore, che minaccia e può arrivare a scardinare e stravolgere l’esistenza dell’uomo razionale, metodico.
Per 300 pagine ho faticato, mi sono perso più volte e ho pure pensato di mollarlo, però poi prende forma e la conclusione è un capolavoro.

«Te l'avevo detto, Op Oloop, te l'avevo detto...
L'amore è lampo e oscurità... Lampo abbagliante quando lo spirito è vuoto... ma quando è pieno di sapere e disciplina, oscurità... oscurità...
oscurità...».

[nyanyapushkina · Rating 4 out of 5]

как-то мы с этой книгой друг друга не поняли… завязка заинтригует любого: один день из жизни финского статистика, фанатеющего от чисел и порядка, в Аргентине 1934 года. главный герой наш живет очень упорядоченную жизнь, но это не человек в футляре, у него и с духовной жизнью вроде бы все гуд, и с друзьями он философские беседы ведет и о боге думает. И вот значит то ли любовь то ли время то ли что — и он начинает сходить с ума. Местами это было очень увлекательно и смешно, и точно, местами неясно зачем и почему. Из-за кульминационной сцены с ужином возникали ассоциации с Тайным пиром погребального братства, но Пир выглядит как-то более цельно и взросло

[josé almeida · Rating 4 out of 5]

uma pequena delícia. acompanhamos o último dia de alguém cuja vida é regida segundo um calendário metódico, preciso e rígido, com tudo – desde refeições até visitas a bordéis – cronometrados ao minuto. porém, quando um atraso insignificante perturba este calendário sagrado no dia da festa de noivado do protagonista, o relógio parece apontar para uma desgraça inexorável. tal como leopold bloom na dublin de joyce, optimus oloop percorre uma bueno aires mitificada onde o tempo se descontrolou...

[BERTI · Rating 3 out of 5]

L'idée de ce personnage, qui a porté la précision du chiffre à son paroxysme et qui se retrouve dans l'impossibilité de vivre et d'aimer, est géniale. De plus il y a des moments très brillants et des pensées clairvoyantes, mais le tout est immergé dans une rivière de longueurs et dialogues peu intéressants....dommage!

[Will · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm rounding up to four stars. Somewhat amazed this book exists. I missed that Filloy was an influence on Cortazar until after reading - much of the time I felt like I was reading a rough draft of one of the party scenes from Hopscotch. A fast-paced and Freudian account of the modern condition, circa the 1930's.

[Rivière Cécile · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un style inédit et des pensées explicitées très intéressantes avec cependant quelques décrochages au début pour ma part. Un maniement de la langue incroyable, aux prémices de l'Oulipo entre illusions et mathématiques. Encore une très belle publication des éditions Monsieur Toussaint Louverture.