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A Drinking Life
"The fortunate man is the one who cannot take more than a couple of drinks without becoming intoxicated."
In one of the great works of American literature, Jack London tells a poignant tale of the power of addiction through his alter-ego, John Barleycorn. With alcohol as his sole companion, John travels across North America, living as a sailor, gold prospector, unemployed vagabond, and struggling novelist.
Written with elegance and intelligence, and never shying away from the addiction that bedeviled him, John Barleycorn: A Drinking Life presents its author's arduous transformation from hard-bitten adventurer to renowned writer.
215 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1913
288 people are currently reading
3665 people want to read
About the author
Jack London
7,710 books7,711 followersJohn Griffith Chaney, better known as Jack London, was an American novelist, journalist and activist. A pioneer of commercial fiction and American magazines, he was one of the first American authors to become an international celebrity and earn a large fortune from writing. He was also an innovator in the genre that would later become known as science fiction.
London was part of the radical literary group "The Crowd" in San Francisco and a passionate advocate of animal rights, workers’ rights and socialism. London wrote several works dealing with these topics, such as his dystopian novel The Iron Heel, his non-fiction exposé The People of the Abyss, War of the Classes, and Before Adam.
His most famous works include The Call of the Wild and White Fang, both set in Alaska and the Yukon during the Klondike Gold Rush, as well as the short stories "To Build a Fire", "An Odyssey of the North", and "Love of Life". He also wrote about the South Pacific in stories such as "The Pearls of Parlay" and "The Heathen".
London was part of the radical literary group "The Crowd" in San Francisco and a passionate advocate of animal rights, workers’ rights and socialism. London wrote several works dealing with these topics, such as his dystopian novel The Iron Heel, his non-fiction exposé The People of the Abyss, War of the Classes, and Before Adam.
His most famous works include The Call of the Wild and White Fang, both set in Alaska and the Yukon during the Klondike Gold Rush, as well as the short stories "To Build a Fire", "An Odyssey of the North", and "Love of Life". He also wrote about the South Pacific in stories such as "The Pearls of Parlay" and "The Heathen".
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December 14, 2019
A disturbing memorial against the indelible trivialization and glorification of a widely used drug
London concludes that it essential to be a proponent of suffragettes and emancipation to start a social change towards prohibition and a not drug-poisoned youth and no millions of suffering relatives, which is noble and worthy of imitation. The idea fails because of the addictive affinity of man.
The path is described impressively as the decline of a human being in a world characterized by tolerance and glorification of drunkenness. Beginning with the downplaying of the dangerous first encounters with alcohol in childhood, which are perceived as funny anecdotes by the adults involved ("You know, i nearly died of alcohol poising when I was just 8, what a fun that was for both me and the adults who forced me to drink.". Further to peer pressure and the need to seem mature and experienced, the bow spans to fatal regular consumption. London balances in its wild youth years with excessive, but fortunately regularly interrupted, alcohol consumption on a razor blade.
As he grows older, he falls into an increasingly debauching and uncontrollable urge for the poison, which´s taste he even doesn´t like. Ironically, at the height of his creative career, he systematically destroys himself. As a made-up and respected man who is unable to write without methanol replenishment. The conditioning of his childhood and youth, marked by poverty and hard work, laid the foundation for later self-destruction.
The metamorphose associated with the addiction is described in a close-to-life manner. Lightning-fast mood swings in which friendship turns to bloodlust; Ecstasy, which turns into life-threatening poisoning; deceptive eloquence and charm switching to deep depression and suicidal intent. Also, above all, there is always the banner of group dynamic motivated glorification of consumption.
Although it is fair to say that being a drunkard is a profoundly male problem. Without leaning too far out of the window or drifting into the precarious realms of political impropriety or gender discrimination. Starting with peer pressure, group stupidity, meeting expectations and cultural conditioning, men tend to be addicted due to their tendency to wolf-like pack behavior and the associated brain outages.
In contrast to women who are, not only in this respect, socially more competent. The sad irony is that the more cautious women are the primary victims of the part of the male population that is incapable of reasonable consumption. Women prefer their common sense before total and senseless illumination.
Calling London a thinker of another type of drug policy is too simple because of the understandably extreme position of prohibition. Rather, he has put his finger in the wound of a probably unsolvable dilemma, which varies between rigid ban along with draconian punishments and liberal legalization, even of hard substances. Finding a consensus will be difficult, because of the psychological key stimuli around prohibition and social constraints. The topic reveals the arbitrariness and wretchedness of very different legislation around the world. It gratuitously swings between the death penalty and the legal sale of the same substance and is strongly influenced by cultural structures and stuff.
Trough the book one lives a whole drunkard career alongside London and the motives, fears, and backgrounds were rarely drawn in such haunting pictures. A timeless work because, unfortunately, it is impossible to make a drug, once so profusely buried in the cultural and social life of a people, disappear. Heck, even our genes already adapted to it to deal better with booze. For a disappearing of drug addiction humanity would require self-criticism, reflection, general rethinking, new social order and other utopias.
Like a civilization that does not have to embarrass itself with the glorification of pathogenic poisons to prevent revolutions of the exploited masses. To instead enable its members to lead a dignified and fulfilling life so that there is no reason for the destruction of millions of lives.
A wiki walk can be as refreshing to the mind as a walk through nature in this completely overrated real-life outside books:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alcoholism
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drinkin...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Categor...
London concludes that it essential to be a proponent of suffragettes and emancipation to start a social change towards prohibition and a not drug-poisoned youth and no millions of suffering relatives, which is noble and worthy of imitation. The idea fails because of the addictive affinity of man.
The path is described impressively as the decline of a human being in a world characterized by tolerance and glorification of drunkenness. Beginning with the downplaying of the dangerous first encounters with alcohol in childhood, which are perceived as funny anecdotes by the adults involved ("You know, i nearly died of alcohol poising when I was just 8, what a fun that was for both me and the adults who forced me to drink.". Further to peer pressure and the need to seem mature and experienced, the bow spans to fatal regular consumption. London balances in its wild youth years with excessive, but fortunately regularly interrupted, alcohol consumption on a razor blade.
As he grows older, he falls into an increasingly debauching and uncontrollable urge for the poison, which´s taste he even doesn´t like. Ironically, at the height of his creative career, he systematically destroys himself. As a made-up and respected man who is unable to write without methanol replenishment. The conditioning of his childhood and youth, marked by poverty and hard work, laid the foundation for later self-destruction.
The metamorphose associated with the addiction is described in a close-to-life manner. Lightning-fast mood swings in which friendship turns to bloodlust; Ecstasy, which turns into life-threatening poisoning; deceptive eloquence and charm switching to deep depression and suicidal intent. Also, above all, there is always the banner of group dynamic motivated glorification of consumption.
Although it is fair to say that being a drunkard is a profoundly male problem. Without leaning too far out of the window or drifting into the precarious realms of political impropriety or gender discrimination. Starting with peer pressure, group stupidity, meeting expectations and cultural conditioning, men tend to be addicted due to their tendency to wolf-like pack behavior and the associated brain outages.
In contrast to women who are, not only in this respect, socially more competent. The sad irony is that the more cautious women are the primary victims of the part of the male population that is incapable of reasonable consumption. Women prefer their common sense before total and senseless illumination.
Calling London a thinker of another type of drug policy is too simple because of the understandably extreme position of prohibition. Rather, he has put his finger in the wound of a probably unsolvable dilemma, which varies between rigid ban along with draconian punishments and liberal legalization, even of hard substances. Finding a consensus will be difficult, because of the psychological key stimuli around prohibition and social constraints. The topic reveals the arbitrariness and wretchedness of very different legislation around the world. It gratuitously swings between the death penalty and the legal sale of the same substance and is strongly influenced by cultural structures and stuff.
Trough the book one lives a whole drunkard career alongside London and the motives, fears, and backgrounds were rarely drawn in such haunting pictures. A timeless work because, unfortunately, it is impossible to make a drug, once so profusely buried in the cultural and social life of a people, disappear. Heck, even our genes already adapted to it to deal better with booze. For a disappearing of drug addiction humanity would require self-criticism, reflection, general rethinking, new social order and other utopias.
Like a civilization that does not have to embarrass itself with the glorification of pathogenic poisons to prevent revolutions of the exploited masses. To instead enable its members to lead a dignified and fulfilling life so that there is no reason for the destruction of millions of lives.
A wiki walk can be as refreshing to the mind as a walk through nature in this completely overrated real-life outside books:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alcoholism
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drinkin...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Categor...
May 27, 2010
I always believed that Jack London kind of sucked. Like most people, I read 'To Build a Fire' and Call of the Wild in school, and was bored senseless, wishing the hero would just freeze to death faster.
John Barleycorn proved me completely wrong. In it, London is funny and sharp and angry about all the right things. Lately it's been marketed as a pro-prohibition book, which I think obscures the point. London is not concerned with alcoholism as a disease. What he's trying to pin down is the malevolent spirit of the ancient god of drink, personified, as of old, as John Barleycorn. It's the best description I've ever read of the glories of drinking to excess - the shining nights, the wild tales, the companionship - and exactly why this is so dangerous to the thinking person. He argues that it's precisely the best, the strongest, the brightest, the wildest, who poison themselves with drinking, worn down by the dullness of normal life; that drinking becomes an adventure, a sign of courage and great-heartedness. But he also believes that John Barleycorn demands your life as payment, and brings, instead of wisdom, what he called 'the White Logic', a sort of super-lucid, nihilistic despair.
The book is filled with these mystical, revelatory, poetic ravings, passages so beautiful I wish I could just tear them out and plaster them on walls for everyone to read. But there's tons of other great stuff in here, too - stories about the socialist movement, and about working in factories and hopping trains and grappling with cheap typewriters and sailing and fighting and oyster pirates and Aristophanes and loving and eating too much candy. It's been a great read, and it's given me a lot to think about. I mean, alcoholism is such an easy answer, isn't it? If you drink too much, you're an alcoholic; you have a disease, you need treatment. London's viewpoint is more complex and feels more valid: that you drink because that is what people of vision do, and you drink together, and your life is richer, and you put aside the injustices of the world - what he calls the cold iron collar around the neck of your soul. Therefore, change not yourself, but the world. I love it! The answer isn't repentance and detox and rehab and counseling, it's revolution!
John Barleycorn proved me completely wrong. In it, London is funny and sharp and angry about all the right things. Lately it's been marketed as a pro-prohibition book, which I think obscures the point. London is not concerned with alcoholism as a disease. What he's trying to pin down is the malevolent spirit of the ancient god of drink, personified, as of old, as John Barleycorn. It's the best description I've ever read of the glories of drinking to excess - the shining nights, the wild tales, the companionship - and exactly why this is so dangerous to the thinking person. He argues that it's precisely the best, the strongest, the brightest, the wildest, who poison themselves with drinking, worn down by the dullness of normal life; that drinking becomes an adventure, a sign of courage and great-heartedness. But he also believes that John Barleycorn demands your life as payment, and brings, instead of wisdom, what he called 'the White Logic', a sort of super-lucid, nihilistic despair.
The book is filled with these mystical, revelatory, poetic ravings, passages so beautiful I wish I could just tear them out and plaster them on walls for everyone to read. But there's tons of other great stuff in here, too - stories about the socialist movement, and about working in factories and hopping trains and grappling with cheap typewriters and sailing and fighting and oyster pirates and Aristophanes and loving and eating too much candy. It's been a great read, and it's given me a lot to think about. I mean, alcoholism is such an easy answer, isn't it? If you drink too much, you're an alcoholic; you have a disease, you need treatment. London's viewpoint is more complex and feels more valid: that you drink because that is what people of vision do, and you drink together, and your life is richer, and you put aside the injustices of the world - what he calls the cold iron collar around the neck of your soul. Therefore, change not yourself, but the world. I love it! The answer isn't repentance and detox and rehab and counseling, it's revolution!
Read
October 9, 2020
“E nella mia caverna murata di libri, un mausoleo del pensiero umano, io bevo, e bevo ancora; scaccio i cani addormentati negli angoli del mio cervello; li invito a superare i muri dei pregiudizi e delle leggi, per galoppare attraverso gli astuti labirinti delle credenze e delle superstizioni.”
Opera di memorie in cui London ci racconta l’incontro/scontro con un perfido personaggio:
John Barleycorn.
Questo è il nome di un vizio che diventa persona perché tale è la sua potenza di coinvolgere e travolgere da riuscire ad incarnarsi.
E’ un caldo pomeriggio quello in cui, Jack London, torna alla sua tenuta (chiamata Valle della Luna da cui il romanzo omonimo scritto nello stesso anno, 1913) dopo aver votato a favore del suffragio femminile.
La moglie ne è sorpresa dato che si era sempre dichiarato contrario (!!!) ma lo scrittore spiega che solo le donne possono salvare la società dalla malefica presenza di John Barleycorn.
Solo loro (madri, sorelle, figlie…) userebbero il loro nuovo potere per votare a favore del proibizionismo e inchiodare, una volta per tutte, la bara di John Barleycorn.
Ma chi è costui da essere tanto denigrato dallo scrittore?
Letteralmente, John Barleycorn: sarebbe: “chicco d’orzo”.
Un nome che negli Usa è diventato sinonimo di alcool.
London comincia, pertanto a raccontare il suo incontro/scontro con John Barleycorn:
“il re dei bugiardi e, insieme, è la sincerità fatta persona. È il compagno regale col quale si passeggia insieme agli Dei. Ma è anche il più intimo amico della Morte. Ti porta alla nuda verità e alla morte. Inventa le visioni più chiare ma pure i sogni più immondi. È nemico della vita ma possiede una saggezza superiore a quella della vita stessa. È un assassino dalle mani insanguinate, un assassino della gioventù.”
Dal momento in cui i bar sono gli unici posti di ritrovo e dal momento in cui il bere è un consolidato rituale di socializzazione, per un ragazzo non c’è scampo e si ritrova – già in giovane età- a consumare grandi quantità di alcool fino a diventarne schiavo.
Personalmente ho trovato queste memorie molto sincere con quel modo spudorato di voler esibire la propria forza e virilità.
C’è anche un ripetersi di alcuni concetti (come il fatto di non avere alcuna attrattiva per l’alcool) che, in realtà, io ho letto come bisogno di voler convincere chi legge del proprio punto di vista non tanto per trovare giustificazioni al proprio vizio ma per rafforzare la propria tesi, ossia:
se si vuole combattere il problema dell’alcoolismo bisogna far scomparire quel perfido di Barleycorn.
” Tutte le proibizioni e tutti i sermoni del mondo non allontaneranno da lui gli uomini e i giovani, fino a quando sarà accessibile e considerato come un sinonimo di virilità, di audacia e di eroismo. La sola cosa razionale da fare per la gente del nostro tempo sarebbe mettere un coperchio sul pozzo, e rendere quest’epoca degna di se stessa, relegando nel passato, insieme ai roghi delle streghe, all’intolleranza religiosa ed a tutti gli altri feticci, anche John Barleycorn, lui sì l’ultimo feticcio, ma non meno barbaro degli altri.”
Poi, ovviamente, oggi sappiamo (il libro è del 1913) che il proibizionismo creò forse più danni che benefici.
Il racconto fa luce su alcuni episodi e momenti della vita di London.
Lo strano percorso che da pescatore di frodo lo porta ad essere uno scrittore di successo e, parallelamente la storia di un uomo che si credeva immune ai tranelli, credeva di essere superiore e forte contro ogni inganno, finchè un giorno scopre di essere completamente nelle grinfie di John Barleycorn che oltre a catturare il corpo prende possesso anche delle mente.
Abbandona i sogni e ad abbraccia visioni pessimiste e in questi ultimi capitoli la penna di London si esprime al suo meglio:
“Andarmene? Sono già sulla strada, fin da ora… Ho nella mascella dei denti finti che sostituiscono parti di me già morte. Non ritroverò mai più i muscoli che possedevo da giovane; gli assalti e le lotte li hanno irreparabilmente demoliti. La mia velocità di corsa è sepolta nel limbo del ricordo. Le mie gambe hanno perduto la loro elasticità e la loro resistenza, provate da tante giornate di lavoro e da tante notti di follie. Non potrò più oscillare sospeso ai cordami nell’oscurità della tempesta, affidando alla forza del mio pugno tutta questa vita di cui ero così fiero. Non correrò mai più a fianco dei cani da slitta sulle piste interminabili dell’artico. So perfettamente che in questo corpo, in via di disintegrazione, che ha cominciato a morire fin dall’istante della mia nascita, io trasporto uno scheletro; sotto questo strato di carne che chiamo il mio viso, c’è un teschio, ossuto e senza naso. Tutto questo non mi fa fremere. Avere paura significa essere sano. Il timore della morte tende alla vita. Ma la maledizione della pura logica è lei che non spaventa affatto. Il disgusto del mondo che provoca, vi fa fare delle smorfie da pagliaccio in faccia alla morte e sogghignare davanti a tutta la fantasmagoria della vita.”
[Non ci sono stelline perchè non voglio dare giudizi alle autobiografie]
Opera di memorie in cui London ci racconta l’incontro/scontro con un perfido personaggio:
John Barleycorn.
Questo è il nome di un vizio che diventa persona perché tale è la sua potenza di coinvolgere e travolgere da riuscire ad incarnarsi.
E’ un caldo pomeriggio quello in cui, Jack London, torna alla sua tenuta (chiamata Valle della Luna da cui il romanzo omonimo scritto nello stesso anno, 1913) dopo aver votato a favore del suffragio femminile.
La moglie ne è sorpresa dato che si era sempre dichiarato contrario (!!!) ma lo scrittore spiega che solo le donne possono salvare la società dalla malefica presenza di John Barleycorn.
Solo loro (madri, sorelle, figlie…) userebbero il loro nuovo potere per votare a favore del proibizionismo e inchiodare, una volta per tutte, la bara di John Barleycorn.
Ma chi è costui da essere tanto denigrato dallo scrittore?
Letteralmente, John Barleycorn: sarebbe: “chicco d’orzo”.
Un nome che negli Usa è diventato sinonimo di alcool.
London comincia, pertanto a raccontare il suo incontro/scontro con John Barleycorn:
“il re dei bugiardi e, insieme, è la sincerità fatta persona. È il compagno regale col quale si passeggia insieme agli Dei. Ma è anche il più intimo amico della Morte. Ti porta alla nuda verità e alla morte. Inventa le visioni più chiare ma pure i sogni più immondi. È nemico della vita ma possiede una saggezza superiore a quella della vita stessa. È un assassino dalle mani insanguinate, un assassino della gioventù.”
Dal momento in cui i bar sono gli unici posti di ritrovo e dal momento in cui il bere è un consolidato rituale di socializzazione, per un ragazzo non c’è scampo e si ritrova – già in giovane età- a consumare grandi quantità di alcool fino a diventarne schiavo.
Personalmente ho trovato queste memorie molto sincere con quel modo spudorato di voler esibire la propria forza e virilità.
C’è anche un ripetersi di alcuni concetti (come il fatto di non avere alcuna attrattiva per l’alcool) che, in realtà, io ho letto come bisogno di voler convincere chi legge del proprio punto di vista non tanto per trovare giustificazioni al proprio vizio ma per rafforzare la propria tesi, ossia:
se si vuole combattere il problema dell’alcoolismo bisogna far scomparire quel perfido di Barleycorn.
” Tutte le proibizioni e tutti i sermoni del mondo non allontaneranno da lui gli uomini e i giovani, fino a quando sarà accessibile e considerato come un sinonimo di virilità, di audacia e di eroismo. La sola cosa razionale da fare per la gente del nostro tempo sarebbe mettere un coperchio sul pozzo, e rendere quest’epoca degna di se stessa, relegando nel passato, insieme ai roghi delle streghe, all’intolleranza religiosa ed a tutti gli altri feticci, anche John Barleycorn, lui sì l’ultimo feticcio, ma non meno barbaro degli altri.”
Poi, ovviamente, oggi sappiamo (il libro è del 1913) che il proibizionismo creò forse più danni che benefici.
Il racconto fa luce su alcuni episodi e momenti della vita di London.
Lo strano percorso che da pescatore di frodo lo porta ad essere uno scrittore di successo e, parallelamente la storia di un uomo che si credeva immune ai tranelli, credeva di essere superiore e forte contro ogni inganno, finchè un giorno scopre di essere completamente nelle grinfie di John Barleycorn che oltre a catturare il corpo prende possesso anche delle mente.
Abbandona i sogni e ad abbraccia visioni pessimiste e in questi ultimi capitoli la penna di London si esprime al suo meglio:
“Andarmene? Sono già sulla strada, fin da ora… Ho nella mascella dei denti finti che sostituiscono parti di me già morte. Non ritroverò mai più i muscoli che possedevo da giovane; gli assalti e le lotte li hanno irreparabilmente demoliti. La mia velocità di corsa è sepolta nel limbo del ricordo. Le mie gambe hanno perduto la loro elasticità e la loro resistenza, provate da tante giornate di lavoro e da tante notti di follie. Non potrò più oscillare sospeso ai cordami nell’oscurità della tempesta, affidando alla forza del mio pugno tutta questa vita di cui ero così fiero. Non correrò mai più a fianco dei cani da slitta sulle piste interminabili dell’artico. So perfettamente che in questo corpo, in via di disintegrazione, che ha cominciato a morire fin dall’istante della mia nascita, io trasporto uno scheletro; sotto questo strato di carne che chiamo il mio viso, c’è un teschio, ossuto e senza naso. Tutto questo non mi fa fremere. Avere paura significa essere sano. Il timore della morte tende alla vita. Ma la maledizione della pura logica è lei che non spaventa affatto. Il disgusto del mondo che provoca, vi fa fare delle smorfie da pagliaccio in faccia alla morte e sogghignare davanti a tutta la fantasmagoria della vita.”
[Non ci sono stelline perchè non voglio dare giudizi alle autobiografie]
June 28, 2012
If you want to know what it’s like to live the life of an alcoholic, read this. In this book, Jack London tells us what it is like to live the life of an alcoholic. There is no substitute for a firsthand account. I have spent the last 10 years working as a Substance Abuse Counselor. This is an amazing story. It is a powerful story. It is either a completely true story (if you believe, as I and many others do) that this is an autobiographical story) or this is a story based on unvarnished truth and on target observations of alcoholics that have rendered it completely accurate by time and medical science. Next Year this story will be 100 years old (published in 1913). It predates the formation of Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob Smith’s organization, “Alcoholics Anonymous” by 30 years and most of the observations in this book have been proven to be true by honest, thought provoking research by professionals in medicine and science with some studies as recent as within the last ten years. For mental health care providers and Substance Abuse Rehabilitation Programs, I think this is one of the most important books ever written.
Why?
I could spend days explaining and telling you how an alcoholic lives and what goes on inside the heart and head of an alcoholic based on clinical observation. That’s really thin soup if happen to be the one who is actually living with this condition. This isn’t about treatment or what works and what doesn’t. This book is simply about HOW…YOU…LIVE…if you are dealing with a drinking problem. Sometimes living is the hardest thing we have to do.
This book is not based on scientifically explained conditions. It’s based on Human conditions. This book is not based on observation of twisted, odd, and/or ethically questionable, or even perfectly logical and respectable, experimentation but on honestly reported, very accurate, observation of the life of an individual suffering from this condition. This unhealthy condition is one of the oldest known to man. Conversely, it is one of the ones about which we know the least. So, it stands to reason that what can be known should be known and there is no subject on earth where conjecture, half-assed do-it-yourself-isms kill as many people as happens with the condition of alcoholism.
And maybe most importantly, in my humble opinion, this book was written and published 1913. That is a century ago and I dare anyone who has lived with an alcoholic, anyone who is alcoholic, anyone who works with alcoholics be ye clergy or medical professional, primary care or psychologist to read this book and say, with all honesty, that the life described in this book is nothing like the lives of alcoholics today. How could they? This book is very, very accurate and written with rigorous honesty so scathing and absolute that every factor, body, mental, social and spiritual is laid bare for all to see. Simply put, it’s an autopsy of an alcoholic’s life told in story form.
Read any story in the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book. Pick one… you may not be able to tell those stories from this one. Yet, this story was written before anyone understood Alcoholism.
So what this tells those who are not familiar with alcoholism, and sometimes those who are but need help explaining, is that this condition is not based on will power. If it was up to will power then there would be no alcoholics. This condition is not based on choice. In fact it’s characterized by a progressive loss of the choice until there is no choice but to drink or there is either a more potent substance available, the person dies, gets imprisoned, institutionalized or gives up drinking. It also shows that the signs and symptoms of alcohol dependence (Alcoholism) are consistent, telling and have not changed in over a hundred years (since long before they even understood addiction well enough to diagnose it).
This is fantastic information. It means what Alcoholics Anonymous and Substance Abuse Treatment Professionals have been saying for years. That alcoholism is a chronic, terminal condition, that it is a disease, was known even then. It was just expressed in different terms.
If you choose to read this book I challenge you to be Honest with yourself about what you see in the mirror and when you look at others, to be Openminded to new ideas and old ideas long forgotten about what it is like to live with a drinking problem and be Willing think, use your brain, assess and address any problems you might have with drinking and willing to be compassionate to those people suffering from it. It may be self induced, that does not make it curable. Yes, people should be held accountable for their actions, but that does not mean they fully understand why they have done what they have done.
Some of the greatest people in the world have found recovery from Alcoholism. They live passionately, one day at a time, moving from one sober day to the next and believe deeply that the way to help themselves is by helping others who have drinking problems to understand nature of the problem, and how to regain control of their lives. How? By not preaching, by not bossing or ordering or even giving advice. They simply tell their story, and somehow, that makes all of the difference.
There is much to be learned about life from this story.
God bless Jack London.
This is a must read for any college level English Course and maybe even Senior English in High School-anywhere there is a group of young people who are able to understand the message contained herein, but may not be willing to try without a push.
It is appropriate for anyone who reads, YA to Old Timer.
Recommended for Substance Abuse Treatment Professionals, Family Members of Alcoholics and Addicts, and anyone who thinks that they might have a drinking problem or wants to learn about a drinking problem from the inside out.
And if you have a drinking problem, I say what Father Martin says after his much acclaimed “Chalk Talk” .. .”I hope to GOD that (it) spoils your drinking for you!”
Below the spoiler is a list of some of (by no means all of) those things that are discussed in some form or other in Jack London’s John Barleycorn that has been proven to be medical fact through properly documented research and supports my own observations after ten years of working with those who have drinking and drugging problems.
**I had to add this paragraph to this review.
I don't want to give the impression that the way this book ends is as accurate as the behavior exhibited or the observations made. The book ends with the Narrator (presumably Jack London) saying that he belived he has the disease of Alcohol beat. That he has once again been able to drink moderately without problems. This part is not consistent with what we know about the conditoin of Alcohol Dependence or the Disease of Alcoholism. I belive Jack London knew this too.
In the begining of the book he states that he voted for woman's voting rights because they were more likely than he (or any man) to vote in prohibition. Towards the end of the book, he describes how this belief that he finally has John Barlycorn managed was a dangerous false hope and that he had always said that, yet returned to abusive drinking after that. He claimed to be able to drink moderately, but isn't that exactly what he said over and over through the book?
Denial is part of this condition also. It's the only disease in the world that tells it's victims that they don't have it. In the story, his argument is almost verbatim to those he used in earlier paragraphs and described as what people in Alcoholics Anonymous call "stinking thinking." I do not know if London intentionally wrote his book this way, or if he truely believed he finaly beat it in the end. It's important to note thta he died of a Morphine overdose. I prefer to believe that London was being clever and knows exactly what he wrote and what it means.
There is a story I've heard about a man who was an alcoholic. The man was dying prematurely as a result of abusive drinking. He was in a coma surrounded by friends who were in recovery (Members of AA) who had tried for years to help him stop drinking. Then, for a brief moment, he comes too, opens his eyes, looks at those standing close around him and says
"I can handle this." Then he closed his eyes and died.
Having said that, there are many wonderful observatoins by an author who was perhaps the best of his time at researching his stories before wrote them and Observing then, honestly reporting his observations. This book has a lot of what we've come to know to be true about alcoholics. This is what we know:
An unrelated fact for those amused by odd factual trivia: JACK London was born John Griffey Chaney. His name was changed to John Griffey London after his mother married. He died of complications from kidney problems and other problems. He was an alcoholic and likely addicted to morphine. He died on 22 November 1916.
John F. Kennedy used the name Jack. He was an alcoholic and an addict, addicted to painkillers. He was assassinated on 22 November 1963.
Why?
I could spend days explaining and telling you how an alcoholic lives and what goes on inside the heart and head of an alcoholic based on clinical observation. That’s really thin soup if happen to be the one who is actually living with this condition. This isn’t about treatment or what works and what doesn’t. This book is simply about HOW…YOU…LIVE…if you are dealing with a drinking problem. Sometimes living is the hardest thing we have to do.
This book is not based on scientifically explained conditions. It’s based on Human conditions. This book is not based on observation of twisted, odd, and/or ethically questionable, or even perfectly logical and respectable, experimentation but on honestly reported, very accurate, observation of the life of an individual suffering from this condition. This unhealthy condition is one of the oldest known to man. Conversely, it is one of the ones about which we know the least. So, it stands to reason that what can be known should be known and there is no subject on earth where conjecture, half-assed do-it-yourself-isms kill as many people as happens with the condition of alcoholism.
And maybe most importantly, in my humble opinion, this book was written and published 1913. That is a century ago and I dare anyone who has lived with an alcoholic, anyone who is alcoholic, anyone who works with alcoholics be ye clergy or medical professional, primary care or psychologist to read this book and say, with all honesty, that the life described in this book is nothing like the lives of alcoholics today. How could they? This book is very, very accurate and written with rigorous honesty so scathing and absolute that every factor, body, mental, social and spiritual is laid bare for all to see. Simply put, it’s an autopsy of an alcoholic’s life told in story form.
Read any story in the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book. Pick one… you may not be able to tell those stories from this one. Yet, this story was written before anyone understood Alcoholism.
So what this tells those who are not familiar with alcoholism, and sometimes those who are but need help explaining, is that this condition is not based on will power. If it was up to will power then there would be no alcoholics. This condition is not based on choice. In fact it’s characterized by a progressive loss of the choice until there is no choice but to drink or there is either a more potent substance available, the person dies, gets imprisoned, institutionalized or gives up drinking. It also shows that the signs and symptoms of alcohol dependence (Alcoholism) are consistent, telling and have not changed in over a hundred years (since long before they even understood addiction well enough to diagnose it).
This is fantastic information. It means what Alcoholics Anonymous and Substance Abuse Treatment Professionals have been saying for years. That alcoholism is a chronic, terminal condition, that it is a disease, was known even then. It was just expressed in different terms.
If you choose to read this book I challenge you to be Honest with yourself about what you see in the mirror and when you look at others, to be Openminded to new ideas and old ideas long forgotten about what it is like to live with a drinking problem and be Willing think, use your brain, assess and address any problems you might have with drinking and willing to be compassionate to those people suffering from it. It may be self induced, that does not make it curable. Yes, people should be held accountable for their actions, but that does not mean they fully understand why they have done what they have done.
Some of the greatest people in the world have found recovery from Alcoholism. They live passionately, one day at a time, moving from one sober day to the next and believe deeply that the way to help themselves is by helping others who have drinking problems to understand nature of the problem, and how to regain control of their lives. How? By not preaching, by not bossing or ordering or even giving advice. They simply tell their story, and somehow, that makes all of the difference.
There is much to be learned about life from this story.
God bless Jack London.
This is a must read for any college level English Course and maybe even Senior English in High School-anywhere there is a group of young people who are able to understand the message contained herein, but may not be willing to try without a push.
It is appropriate for anyone who reads, YA to Old Timer.
Recommended for Substance Abuse Treatment Professionals, Family Members of Alcoholics and Addicts, and anyone who thinks that they might have a drinking problem or wants to learn about a drinking problem from the inside out.
And if you have a drinking problem, I say what Father Martin says after his much acclaimed “Chalk Talk” .. .”I hope to GOD that (it) spoils your drinking for you!”
Below the spoiler is a list of some of (by no means all of) those things that are discussed in some form or other in Jack London’s John Barleycorn that has been proven to be medical fact through properly documented research and supports my own observations after ten years of working with those who have drinking and drugging problems.
**I had to add this paragraph to this review.
I don't want to give the impression that the way this book ends is as accurate as the behavior exhibited or the observations made. The book ends with the Narrator (presumably Jack London) saying that he belived he has the disease of Alcohol beat. That he has once again been able to drink moderately without problems. This part is not consistent with what we know about the conditoin of Alcohol Dependence or the Disease of Alcoholism. I belive Jack London knew this too.
In the begining of the book he states that he voted for woman's voting rights because they were more likely than he (or any man) to vote in prohibition. Towards the end of the book, he describes how this belief that he finally has John Barlycorn managed was a dangerous false hope and that he had always said that, yet returned to abusive drinking after that. He claimed to be able to drink moderately, but isn't that exactly what he said over and over through the book?
Denial is part of this condition also. It's the only disease in the world that tells it's victims that they don't have it. In the story, his argument is almost verbatim to those he used in earlier paragraphs and described as what people in Alcoholics Anonymous call "stinking thinking." I do not know if London intentionally wrote his book this way, or if he truely believed he finaly beat it in the end. It's important to note thta he died of a Morphine overdose. I prefer to believe that London was being clever and knows exactly what he wrote and what it means.
There is a story I've heard about a man who was an alcoholic. The man was dying prematurely as a result of abusive drinking. He was in a coma surrounded by friends who were in recovery (Members of AA) who had tried for years to help him stop drinking. Then, for a brief moment, he comes too, opens his eyes, looks at those standing close around him and says
"I can handle this." Then he closed his eyes and died.
Having said that, there are many wonderful observatoins by an author who was perhaps the best of his time at researching his stories before wrote them and Observing then, honestly reporting his observations. This book has a lot of what we've come to know to be true about alcoholics. This is what we know:
An unrelated fact for those amused by odd factual trivia: JACK London was born John Griffey Chaney. His name was changed to John Griffey London after his mother married. He died of complications from kidney problems and other problems. He was an alcoholic and likely addicted to morphine. He died on 22 November 1916.
John F. Kennedy used the name Jack. He was an alcoholic and an addict, addicted to painkillers. He was assassinated on 22 November 1963.
August 8, 2019
Finito perché non poteva essere letto a pezzi e bocconi.
Finito perché mio figlio va a fare un giro alle Eolie in barca (in comodato d’uso assieme a due amici, eh!) e vuole averlo in prestito ma solo “se è un tascabile e non uno “importante” da maneggiare con cura.
Guarda, gli ho detto, che io la penso come a pag 207-208:
L’ alcool lascia intravedere la verità, ma è una verità anormale. Le cose normali sono sane, e ciò che è sano tende verso la vita. La verità normale appartiene a un ordine diverso, inferiore…il gioco della vita è buono, malgrado tutte le miserie, e benché tutte le esistenze, alla fine perdono la partita. Ecco il genere di verità che governa, non l’universo, ma gli esseri che lo abitano, se vogliono vivere un poco, prima di sparire. Questa verità, per falsa che possa essere, è sana e normale, è una verità razionale alla quale i viventi devono credere per vivere.
(Sì, l’ho detto più volte: l’alternativa al suicidio è un divenire continuo di adattamenti: sì sono Sisifo. Forse perché sono anziana e la morte è ora una realtà e non più un “incubo dentro un sogno che svanisce al risveglio”).
Logicamente John Barleycorn non la pensa così: …invia la sua logica ragione pura, bianca messaggera d’una verità situata al di là della verità, agli antipodi della vita, una verità crudele e deserta…e quando la vittima è giunta a questo punto di orribile intimità, i suoi piedi sono già sul sentiero che porta alla fine:il nulla, il non senso impera: che vale allora?
E a quel punto, London si arrendeva al John Barleycorn.
Gli ho detto, al figlio, che se non ci fosse questa scrittura da schianto è un horror scritto da S.King.
Gli ho detto anche di non essere, io, come le madri a cui London si rivolge, sperando in loro per una campagna di abolizione perpetua.
Glielo detto per non fargli pensare di essere una di quelle madri che rompono…
Parliamoci chiaro, non sono astemia: in compagnia sono in grado di scolarmi una bottiglia di Regaleali, il bianco che preferisco, perché, come dice lui, l’alcool è un vizio sociale: mi rende allegra, spiritosa.
Amo l’ebrezza ma fortunatamente mi accade una volta l’anno ché faccio una vita ritirata... Da giovane mi accadeva più spesso e come London non mi sono mai sentita alcolista. Non bevo acqua a tavola. Mai. Un dito di vino ma guai sciacquarmi la bocca con l’acqua.
Raccontando ‘ste due cosette, mi sembra di sentire la sua voce, di London, che cerca di convincersi di non essere alcolista, di potere dominare John. Ma ho settanta anni o quasi e onestamente l’ho scampata: Lui, London,no e mi dispiace tantissimo.
Finito perché mio figlio va a fare un giro alle Eolie in barca (in comodato d’uso assieme a due amici, eh!) e vuole averlo in prestito ma solo “se è un tascabile e non uno “importante” da maneggiare con cura.
Guarda, gli ho detto, che io la penso come a pag 207-208:
L’ alcool lascia intravedere la verità, ma è una verità anormale. Le cose normali sono sane, e ciò che è sano tende verso la vita. La verità normale appartiene a un ordine diverso, inferiore…il gioco della vita è buono, malgrado tutte le miserie, e benché tutte le esistenze, alla fine perdono la partita. Ecco il genere di verità che governa, non l’universo, ma gli esseri che lo abitano, se vogliono vivere un poco, prima di sparire. Questa verità, per falsa che possa essere, è sana e normale, è una verità razionale alla quale i viventi devono credere per vivere.
(Sì, l’ho detto più volte: l’alternativa al suicidio è un divenire continuo di adattamenti: sì sono Sisifo. Forse perché sono anziana e la morte è ora una realtà e non più un “incubo dentro un sogno che svanisce al risveglio”).
Logicamente John Barleycorn non la pensa così: …invia la sua logica ragione pura, bianca messaggera d’una verità situata al di là della verità, agli antipodi della vita, una verità crudele e deserta…e quando la vittima è giunta a questo punto di orribile intimità, i suoi piedi sono già sul sentiero che porta alla fine:il nulla, il non senso impera: che vale allora?
E a quel punto, London si arrendeva al John Barleycorn.
Gli ho detto, al figlio, che se non ci fosse questa scrittura da schianto è un horror scritto da S.King.
Gli ho detto anche di non essere, io, come le madri a cui London si rivolge, sperando in loro per una campagna di abolizione perpetua.
Glielo detto per non fargli pensare di essere una di quelle madri che rompono…
Parliamoci chiaro, non sono astemia: in compagnia sono in grado di scolarmi una bottiglia di Regaleali, il bianco che preferisco, perché, come dice lui, l’alcool è un vizio sociale: mi rende allegra, spiritosa.
Amo l’ebrezza ma fortunatamente mi accade una volta l’anno ché faccio una vita ritirata... Da giovane mi accadeva più spesso e come London non mi sono mai sentita alcolista. Non bevo acqua a tavola. Mai. Un dito di vino ma guai sciacquarmi la bocca con l’acqua.
Raccontando ‘ste due cosette, mi sembra di sentire la sua voce, di London, che cerca di convincersi di non essere alcolista, di potere dominare John. Ma ho settanta anni o quasi e onestamente l’ho scampata: Lui, London,no e mi dispiace tantissimo.
October 7, 2020
Quando vivi una vita degna di un romanzo e scegli di tramutarla in un'opera scrivi un capolavoro. Quando, in questa stessa opera hai il coraggio di porti a nudo senza remore o freni e di giunger persino a parlar del tuo più feroce fantasma, consegui l'eccellenza. Romanzo straordinario. Un altro piccolo Martin Eden da assaporare, come un raro liquore, dalla prima all'ultima pagina. Una storia di lotta continua, continue cadute e continui riscatti. La vita, insomma...
August 30, 2019
Jack London, tra gli scrittori più conosciuti e letti in assoluto, fa parte della schiera dei miei scrittori preferiti. Uno scrittore passionale, emozionale, riflessivo ed intelligente, accosta una scrittura piena di animosità verso la vita e critico verso la società decadente di fine Ottocento ed inizi Novecento.
Qui ci propone un'autobiografia particolare, non una generica autobiografia, ma specificatamente una autobiografia alcolica o come l'ha voluta chiamare Charmian, sua moglie: ricordi alcolici.
L'alcolismo è un problema molto diffuso, da sempre, nella società umana, dacchè se n'ha conoscenza, l'alcol è il "compagno" degli uomini. Qui London lo chiama John Barleycorn. Nel gergo americano rappresenta la personificazione della birra e del whisky, prodotti entrambi derivati dall'orzo (Wikipedia)
Il racconto parte con la sua prima sbronza, avvenuta a 5 anni, scolandosi una buona parte di una secchiata di birra, che doveva andare a prendere per conto di suo padre, come abbia fatto a non lasciarci le penne, nemmeno il vecchio Jack lo sa. La seconda a 7 e via dicendo. Ma il libro è anche molto altro. London ci racconta cosa l'ha portato a bere, il perchè ed il per come. Riflette su una società malata, che sta uccidendo tutti i giovani del suo periodo e anche quelli a venire, se non si pone fine a tutto.
Il libro mi è piaciuto abbastanza, soprattutto il finale dove London filosofeggia sul perchè John Barleycorn debba essere debellato dalla mente di tutti i ragazzi della Terra. Meno mi è piaciuta, la parte centrale, poco riflessiva e più descrittiva delle sue personali orgie alcoliche...
In alcuni passaggi sembrava di essere in una landa sperduta, nebbiosa, desolata, da quanto la scrittura era visionaria, evocativa. Sembrava di essere lì con Jack a combattere contro John, un demone molto insidioso!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsIdh...
Qui ci propone un'autobiografia particolare, non una generica autobiografia, ma specificatamente una autobiografia alcolica o come l'ha voluta chiamare Charmian, sua moglie: ricordi alcolici.
L'alcolismo è un problema molto diffuso, da sempre, nella società umana, dacchè se n'ha conoscenza, l'alcol è il "compagno" degli uomini. Qui London lo chiama John Barleycorn. Nel gergo americano rappresenta la personificazione della birra e del whisky, prodotti entrambi derivati dall'orzo (Wikipedia)
Il racconto parte con la sua prima sbronza, avvenuta a 5 anni, scolandosi una buona parte di una secchiata di birra, che doveva andare a prendere per conto di suo padre, come abbia fatto a non lasciarci le penne, nemmeno il vecchio Jack lo sa. La seconda a 7 e via dicendo. Ma il libro è anche molto altro. London ci racconta cosa l'ha portato a bere, il perchè ed il per come. Riflette su una società malata, che sta uccidendo tutti i giovani del suo periodo e anche quelli a venire, se non si pone fine a tutto.
Il libro mi è piaciuto abbastanza, soprattutto il finale dove London filosofeggia sul perchè John Barleycorn debba essere debellato dalla mente di tutti i ragazzi della Terra. Meno mi è piaciuta, la parte centrale, poco riflessiva e più descrittiva delle sue personali orgie alcoliche...
In alcuni passaggi sembrava di essere in una landa sperduta, nebbiosa, desolata, da quanto la scrittura era visionaria, evocativa. Sembrava di essere lì con Jack a combattere contro John, un demone molto insidioso!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsIdh...
July 26, 2024
”But I thought you were a friend to John Barleycorn?”
“I am. I was. I am not. I never am. I am never less his friend than when he is with me and when I seem most his friend. He is the king of liars. He is the frankest truth sayer, he is the august companion with whom one walks with the gods. He is also in league with the noseless one. His way leads to truth naked and to death. He gives clear vision and muddy dreams. He is the enemy of life, and the teacher of wisdom beyond life’s wisdom. He is a red-handed killer and he slays youth.”
John Barleycorn: Alcoholic Memoirs is top shelf, so far as autobiographies go. And despite London’s self proclamation that this is a work about the dangers of strong drink, riveting autobiography is what it actually is. It’s true that he used alcohol as a hook to hang his memoirs upon, and it’s also true that London does a bit of philosophizing on the dangers of drink and the desirability of prohibition. But this is no treatise against the demon rum, and London romanticized his subject far more than he demonized it. He repeatedly denied being an alcoholic, of having any chemical dependency, proclaiming his issue with it one of a mind become accustomed to it rather than a body demanding it. (He also makes a completely evidence free statement that only a tiny minority of drunkards have any chemically based dependency.) Indeed, in his concluding chapter he proclaimed:
”Mine is no tale of a reformed drunkard. I was never a drunkard, and I have not reformed.”
So don’t look here for material for your AA reading group. Instead, read John Barleycorn for London’s fascinating description of his wild and rough adventurous life.
“I am. I was. I am not. I never am. I am never less his friend than when he is with me and when I seem most his friend. He is the king of liars. He is the frankest truth sayer, he is the august companion with whom one walks with the gods. He is also in league with the noseless one. His way leads to truth naked and to death. He gives clear vision and muddy dreams. He is the enemy of life, and the teacher of wisdom beyond life’s wisdom. He is a red-handed killer and he slays youth.”
John Barleycorn: Alcoholic Memoirs is top shelf, so far as autobiographies go. And despite London’s self proclamation that this is a work about the dangers of strong drink, riveting autobiography is what it actually is. It’s true that he used alcohol as a hook to hang his memoirs upon, and it’s also true that London does a bit of philosophizing on the dangers of drink and the desirability of prohibition. But this is no treatise against the demon rum, and London romanticized his subject far more than he demonized it. He repeatedly denied being an alcoholic, of having any chemical dependency, proclaiming his issue with it one of a mind become accustomed to it rather than a body demanding it. (He also makes a completely evidence free statement that only a tiny minority of drunkards have any chemically based dependency.) Indeed, in his concluding chapter he proclaimed:
”Mine is no tale of a reformed drunkard. I was never a drunkard, and I have not reformed.”
So don’t look here for material for your AA reading group. Instead, read John Barleycorn for London’s fascinating description of his wild and rough adventurous life.
Read
October 9, 2020Opera di memorie in cui London ci racconta l’incontro-scontro con un perfido personaggio:
John Barleycorn.
Questo è il nome di un vizio che diventa persona perché tale è la sua potenza di coinvolgere e travolgere da riuscire ad incarnarsi.
Su queste memorie ho commentato qui
.......................
Per curiosità ho fatto una lettura in parallelo di questa traduzione del 1970 di Luciano Bianciardi con quella più recente di Alberto B. Levorato.
Non entro nel merito di un giudizio specifico sull'argomento traduzione (non ne sono in grado) ma se, ovviamente, la versione di Bianciardi soffre di alcune terminologie più “antiquate” e ha dei passaggi farraginosi è comunque una lettura ancora “fattibile”.
Riporto solo un esempio delle due versioni dell’incipit.
Bianciardi -
” Mi successe tutto un giorno di elezioni. Era un caldo pomeriggio californiano, e a cavallo io avevo traversato la Valle della Luna per andare dalla fattoria al piccolo villaggio a votare Sì oppure No a un sacco di emendamenti proposti alla Costituzione della California. Data la calura della giornata, mi feci diverse bevute prima di dare il mio voto e diverse altre dopo aver votato. Poi, sempre a cavallo avevo ripreso la mia strada attraverso i vigneti e i pascoli della fattoria arrivando a casa giusto in tempo per bere ancora e cenare.
«Come hai votato sull'emendamento al suffragio?» chiese Charmian.
«Ho votato a favore».
Fece un'esclamazione di sorpresa. Infatti, sia ben noto, ai miei verdi anni, nonostante la mia fervida democrazia, mi ero opposto al voto alle donne. Quando gli anni mi crebbero e si fecero più tolleranti, la mia accettazione ebbe meno entusiasmo, come dinanzi a un fenomeno sociale inevitabile.”
Levorato - “Tutta questa faccenda risale a un giorno, diciamo, “elettorale”. In un caldissimo pomeriggio californiano ero sceso a cavallo nella Valle della Luna dalla mia fattoria, per votare una serie di riforme per cambiare la costituzione dello Stato della California. Faceva talmente caldo che avevo bevuto parecchi bicchieri prima di deporre la mia scheda nell’urna, e parecchi altri subito dopo. Poi avevo attraversato, a cavallo, le colline coperte di vigne e le praterie del ranch. A colazione ero di ritorno.
- Come hai votato a proposito del voto alle donne? - mi chiese mia moglie Charmian. - Ho votato favorevolmente -. Le sfuggì un’esclamazione di sorpresa. Devo dire che in gioventù, malgrado la mia ardente fede democratica, mi ero dichiarato contrario al voto per le donne. Qualche anno dopo, diventato più tollerante, lo avevo accettato ma senza entusiasmo, quasi come un fenomeno sociale inevitabile.”
Di altro tono (e direi spessore) è la riflessione che faccio su Bianciardi Uomo e sul fatto che quest’opera rientra nella sua ultima tornata di traduzioni.
Bianciardi, infatti, morì l'anno dopo: aveva solo 49 anni e la causa fu proprio la grave dipendenza dall'alcool.
Non ho potuto fare a meno di pensare cosa sia stato per lui fare la traduzione di un testo che sviscera e stana questo viscido serpente di nome John Barleycorn...
----
” “Luciano non riusciva più a lavorare, stava a guardare fisso la macchina per scrivere. Poi si buttava sul letto a dormire. Quando riapriva gli occhi, prendeva la bottiglia e ricominciava. All’una di ogni giorno tornavo di corsa dal giornale, ripescavo Luciano dai bar sotto casa, lo portavo su e cercavo di farlo mangiare. (…) Raccontava Domenico Porzio: “In casa editrice mi dissero che Luciano era andato fuori di testa. Mi chiamarono per farmi vedere una traduzione che aveva appena consegnato. Certe parti non corrispondevano per niente al testo inglese. Dio mio! Da una riga all’altra cominciavano pezzi deliranti, incubi... Non ci volevo credere. Presi a confrontare le pagine. Era vero! Luciano, anziché tradurre, inventava”.
------------
“Vita agra di un anarchico” – Pino Corrias
John Barleycorn.
Questo è il nome di un vizio che diventa persona perché tale è la sua potenza di coinvolgere e travolgere da riuscire ad incarnarsi.
Su queste memorie ho commentato qui
.......................
Per curiosità ho fatto una lettura in parallelo di questa traduzione del 1970 di Luciano Bianciardi con quella più recente di Alberto B. Levorato.
Non entro nel merito di un giudizio specifico sull'argomento traduzione (non ne sono in grado) ma se, ovviamente, la versione di Bianciardi soffre di alcune terminologie più “antiquate” e ha dei passaggi farraginosi è comunque una lettura ancora “fattibile”.
Riporto solo un esempio delle due versioni dell’incipit.
Bianciardi -
” Mi successe tutto un giorno di elezioni. Era un caldo pomeriggio californiano, e a cavallo io avevo traversato la Valle della Luna per andare dalla fattoria al piccolo villaggio a votare Sì oppure No a un sacco di emendamenti proposti alla Costituzione della California. Data la calura della giornata, mi feci diverse bevute prima di dare il mio voto e diverse altre dopo aver votato. Poi, sempre a cavallo avevo ripreso la mia strada attraverso i vigneti e i pascoli della fattoria arrivando a casa giusto in tempo per bere ancora e cenare.
«Come hai votato sull'emendamento al suffragio?» chiese Charmian.
«Ho votato a favore».
Fece un'esclamazione di sorpresa. Infatti, sia ben noto, ai miei verdi anni, nonostante la mia fervida democrazia, mi ero opposto al voto alle donne. Quando gli anni mi crebbero e si fecero più tolleranti, la mia accettazione ebbe meno entusiasmo, come dinanzi a un fenomeno sociale inevitabile.”
Levorato - “Tutta questa faccenda risale a un giorno, diciamo, “elettorale”. In un caldissimo pomeriggio californiano ero sceso a cavallo nella Valle della Luna dalla mia fattoria, per votare una serie di riforme per cambiare la costituzione dello Stato della California. Faceva talmente caldo che avevo bevuto parecchi bicchieri prima di deporre la mia scheda nell’urna, e parecchi altri subito dopo. Poi avevo attraversato, a cavallo, le colline coperte di vigne e le praterie del ranch. A colazione ero di ritorno.
- Come hai votato a proposito del voto alle donne? - mi chiese mia moglie Charmian. - Ho votato favorevolmente -. Le sfuggì un’esclamazione di sorpresa. Devo dire che in gioventù, malgrado la mia ardente fede democratica, mi ero dichiarato contrario al voto per le donne. Qualche anno dopo, diventato più tollerante, lo avevo accettato ma senza entusiasmo, quasi come un fenomeno sociale inevitabile.”
Di altro tono (e direi spessore) è la riflessione che faccio su Bianciardi Uomo e sul fatto che quest’opera rientra nella sua ultima tornata di traduzioni.
Bianciardi, infatti, morì l'anno dopo: aveva solo 49 anni e la causa fu proprio la grave dipendenza dall'alcool.
Non ho potuto fare a meno di pensare cosa sia stato per lui fare la traduzione di un testo che sviscera e stana questo viscido serpente di nome John Barleycorn...
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” “Luciano non riusciva più a lavorare, stava a guardare fisso la macchina per scrivere. Poi si buttava sul letto a dormire. Quando riapriva gli occhi, prendeva la bottiglia e ricominciava. All’una di ogni giorno tornavo di corsa dal giornale, ripescavo Luciano dai bar sotto casa, lo portavo su e cercavo di farlo mangiare. (…) Raccontava Domenico Porzio: “In casa editrice mi dissero che Luciano era andato fuori di testa. Mi chiamarono per farmi vedere una traduzione che aveva appena consegnato. Certe parti non corrispondevano per niente al testo inglese. Dio mio! Da una riga all’altra cominciavano pezzi deliranti, incubi... Non ci volevo credere. Presi a confrontare le pagine. Era vero! Luciano, anziché tradurre, inventava”.
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“Vita agra di un anarchico” – Pino Corrias
February 10, 2017
Me, I drink. My father drank. But he had a hollow leg and I never but once saw him the worse for liquor, the New Year's Day morning (a day on which my parents traditionally had a revolving-door party for their friends and relations) when Brother Peter phoned from Mexico to state that he and his buddy, Louie (who would later die of pneumonia in Niger, but that's another story), were in a Mexican prison and his Porsche was being held for ransom. That day we did (my other brothers and I) have to help Dad up the stairs to sleep it off in bed. Mind you, I don't get drunk. Don't drive drunk. Don't drink outside the house. No. But Brother Don did develop a problem, a forty-year problem, though he's now been very successfully in A.A. for a long while (after having lost his wife and kids).
London drank. Big time. From an early age. Turn of the century, 19th/20th. Bars. Saloons. Swinging doors. Mahogany and rosewood. Buying rounds. (Anyone remember buying rounds?) It was the way men were. Most working men, if they had the money and the time. My own grandfather (a butcher boy) worked 72 hours a week for never more than $35. Maybe had a few beers on Saturday evening after getting paid. No money or time for more than that.
London was good at making money, one way or another. So he always had money for drink, which at the time was much cheaper than it later became. And the alcohol took on a permanent and prominent role in his life as he rose from one success to another. In this book (and I'd strongly suggest the purchase of the Library of America volume of his "Social Writings" - a collection of this and other masterpieces), London tries, more than feebly, to convey the impression that he had mastered his alcoholism. He hadn't. He remained a "slave to drink" until he developed a morphine habit for the same reasons. Whether or not his death was a suicide isn't known, but it's quite certain that he died from a morphine overdose, either intentionally or unintentionally. A photograph of his gold-plated hypodermic syringe and "fixings" is included in at least one of his biographies.
As far as I'm concerned this is the best book on alcoholism I've ever read. It has the usual verve, energy, grace and wild color of his best work. Even for those who cannot in any way personally relate to his alcoholism, this work is very important for anyone who, for literary or historical reasons, wants to assemble a reasonably clear vision of what male America was at the turn of the 19th/20th Centuries. And it's by no means whatsoever just a sordid detail of an uncharacteristic era. Most American men always drank hard. In 1804, the price of a gallon of American whiskey was around twenty-five cents (in their money at the time). From Jeffersonian times until WWII there was (and this is hard to believe but true) no increase in the price of American food or drink , except for whiskey, which had advanced to a dollar a quart (86 proof minimum). Before World War I, cocktails (all cocktails) were two for a quarter in New York.
London drank. Big time. From an early age. Turn of the century, 19th/20th. Bars. Saloons. Swinging doors. Mahogany and rosewood. Buying rounds. (Anyone remember buying rounds?) It was the way men were. Most working men, if they had the money and the time. My own grandfather (a butcher boy) worked 72 hours a week for never more than $35. Maybe had a few beers on Saturday evening after getting paid. No money or time for more than that.
London was good at making money, one way or another. So he always had money for drink, which at the time was much cheaper than it later became. And the alcohol took on a permanent and prominent role in his life as he rose from one success to another. In this book (and I'd strongly suggest the purchase of the Library of America volume of his "Social Writings" - a collection of this and other masterpieces), London tries, more than feebly, to convey the impression that he had mastered his alcoholism. He hadn't. He remained a "slave to drink" until he developed a morphine habit for the same reasons. Whether or not his death was a suicide isn't known, but it's quite certain that he died from a morphine overdose, either intentionally or unintentionally. A photograph of his gold-plated hypodermic syringe and "fixings" is included in at least one of his biographies.
As far as I'm concerned this is the best book on alcoholism I've ever read. It has the usual verve, energy, grace and wild color of his best work. Even for those who cannot in any way personally relate to his alcoholism, this work is very important for anyone who, for literary or historical reasons, wants to assemble a reasonably clear vision of what male America was at the turn of the 19th/20th Centuries. And it's by no means whatsoever just a sordid detail of an uncharacteristic era. Most American men always drank hard. In 1804, the price of a gallon of American whiskey was around twenty-five cents (in their money at the time). From Jeffersonian times until WWII there was (and this is hard to believe but true) no increase in the price of American food or drink , except for whiskey, which had advanced to a dollar a quart (86 proof minimum). Before World War I, cocktails (all cocktails) were two for a quarter in New York.
December 6, 2017
Magnifica risposta alla domanda che mi sono fatta leggendo il libro che precede questo nella lista delle letture di quest'anno (carver) e cioè: non è che l'unico vero protagonista della letteratura americana (scrittori e scritti) sia l'acool?
November 4, 2020
This physical loathing for alcohol I have never got over. But I have conquered it. To this day I conquer it every time I take a drink. The palate never ceases to rebel, and the palate can be trusted to know what is good for the body......
John Barleycorn was written by Jack London in 1913 — just three years prior to his death from complications of morphine and alcohol addiction.
The title ‘John Barleycorn’ is a reference to alcohol and this book tells the history of the protagonists’s alcoholism that began with his first drink at five years old.
At times the chapters are repetitive. At its core the story feels genuine and authentic right down to the delusions that the protagonist is not an alcoholic. He goes on for pages about his special power to resist alcohol for months at a time — a power that few others have. He gives examples of his many seafaring friends who succumbed to alcoholism but not him. As such he spends much of the book psyching himself up in these ways. We know today from modern rehab methods that admitting one is an alcoholic is a crucial step to recovery - not sure that London and his protagonist ever quite got there, although the title and the writing seem to imply he is torn.
4 stars. This is a brave book for London to have written — especially in 1913. And while it is considered a novel, it is transparently autobiographical. I am a huge Jack London fan so this was an insightful read for me including the chapters on his depression.
John Barleycorn was written by Jack London in 1913 — just three years prior to his death from complications of morphine and alcohol addiction.
The title ‘John Barleycorn’ is a reference to alcohol and this book tells the history of the protagonists’s alcoholism that began with his first drink at five years old.
At times the chapters are repetitive. At its core the story feels genuine and authentic right down to the delusions that the protagonist is not an alcoholic. He goes on for pages about his special power to resist alcohol for months at a time — a power that few others have. He gives examples of his many seafaring friends who succumbed to alcoholism but not him. As such he spends much of the book psyching himself up in these ways. We know today from modern rehab methods that admitting one is an alcoholic is a crucial step to recovery - not sure that London and his protagonist ever quite got there, although the title and the writing seem to imply he is torn.
4 stars. This is a brave book for London to have written — especially in 1913. And while it is considered a novel, it is transparently autobiographical. I am a huge Jack London fan so this was an insightful read for me including the chapters on his depression.
August 22, 2019
Mi è piaciuta davvero molto questa autobiografia. Anzi, questa autobiografia alcoolica (mai titolo fu più azzeccato). Non solo perché è davvero interessante entrare nel pensiero di Jack London e vedere come ragiona questo grande autore, in quello che diventa quasi un monologo. C'è la sua viva voce che parla al lettore e lo fa davvero senza veli, in modo diretto. Ma più ancora mi è piaciuto come viene trattato il tema dell'alcolismo. Infatti questa è un'autobiografia di un alcolista scritta da una persona che è ancora alcolizzata (e che purtroppo lo rimarrà per tutta la vita). Fra le altre cose, c'è un fatto che mi ha colpito, cioè che London neghi fino all'ultimo di essere un alcolista. Beh, credo sia proprio questo a rendere questa autobiografia così vera.
Tutte quelle frasi ricorrenti del tipo "a me l'alcool non fa nulla", "ho un fisico forte", "non sono un debole, io", "per me non è un vizio", "ho tutto sotto controllo", "a me non fa male come agli altri"... Sono le tipiche negazioni di chi ha una dipendenza, che sia droga, alcool o anche tabacco.
Ho trovato così vera quella parte iniziale in cui il primo contatto con l'alcool si ha in famiglia, e poi con gli amici e che alla fine diventa una gara a chi beve di più... Certo non tutti bevono, certo non è una giustificazione. Però secondo me non è questo il punto. Questa è una disamina imparziale (perché soggettiva) del pensiero di un alcolizzato, senza la distanza o la lucidità di chi ha superato il problema, di chi è riuscito ad andare oltre. La profondità con cui cerca di riflettere sulla sua dipendenza dà al libro una qualità enorme; il suo affannarsi sui motivi, sulle cause che lo portano a bere, anche quando la vita gli ha dato tutto quello che poteva desiderare, è toccante. "Perché bevo?" si chiede continuamente. E la risposta alla fine non c'è. Perché questa è una grande domanda. Perché alcuni bevono e altri no? Perché per alcuni diventa un problema, una dipendenza? Nelle ultime bellissime pagine del libro di London si vede come nel suo caso il problema dell'alcool è legato a quello della depressione. È l'alcool ad alimentare la depressione o è la depressione a portare all'alcool? Probabilmente entrambe le cose. Come London scrive nelle primissime pagine il suo problema con l'alcool sarà sempre legato a questa malattia dell'anima. Alla fine, il modo in cui si appella al proibizionismo sembra un ultimo disperato grido d'aiuto di chi capisce di aver perso, senza riuscire ad ammetterlo, la sua battaglia con John Barleycorn.
Tutte quelle frasi ricorrenti del tipo "a me l'alcool non fa nulla", "ho un fisico forte", "non sono un debole, io", "per me non è un vizio", "ho tutto sotto controllo", "a me non fa male come agli altri"... Sono le tipiche negazioni di chi ha una dipendenza, che sia droga, alcool o anche tabacco.
Ho trovato così vera quella parte iniziale in cui il primo contatto con l'alcool si ha in famiglia, e poi con gli amici e che alla fine diventa una gara a chi beve di più... Certo non tutti bevono, certo non è una giustificazione. Però secondo me non è questo il punto. Questa è una disamina imparziale (perché soggettiva) del pensiero di un alcolizzato, senza la distanza o la lucidità di chi ha superato il problema, di chi è riuscito ad andare oltre. La profondità con cui cerca di riflettere sulla sua dipendenza dà al libro una qualità enorme; il suo affannarsi sui motivi, sulle cause che lo portano a bere, anche quando la vita gli ha dato tutto quello che poteva desiderare, è toccante. "Perché bevo?" si chiede continuamente. E la risposta alla fine non c'è. Perché questa è una grande domanda. Perché alcuni bevono e altri no? Perché per alcuni diventa un problema, una dipendenza? Nelle ultime bellissime pagine del libro di London si vede come nel suo caso il problema dell'alcool è legato a quello della depressione. È l'alcool ad alimentare la depressione o è la depressione a portare all'alcool? Probabilmente entrambe le cose. Come London scrive nelle primissime pagine il suo problema con l'alcool sarà sempre legato a questa malattia dell'anima. Alla fine, il modo in cui si appella al proibizionismo sembra un ultimo disperato grido d'aiuto di chi capisce di aver perso, senza riuscire ad ammetterlo, la sua battaglia con John Barleycorn.
October 19, 2009
Ironic that a book read in preparation for a wine trip to Sonoma would make me understand Prohibition, but there you have it. I get it. Jack London vividly explores a world before TV, before Radio, before the Internet when the local saloon was, for the working classes, their entertainment, their Facebook, the place to network, the place to get a low interest loan, the place to stay warm in the winter, and the place to escape their dull lives. It was, in short, every Iphone application married to every meet up group out there. It was everything. It was also where almost all of their paychecks went. And no wonder that women, when they finally were able to vote, decided eliminating drinking would fix everything. It was an easy scapegoat. It never occured to them that the real problems were thornier issues like child labor (Jack London describes his childhood in terms that might have made Dickens start taking notes for a new novel), the marginalization of women in the workplace, poor labor laws, etc. Nope. Drinking was much easier to get people behind.
I was never a fan of London's novels, but his voice is so clear in this autobiography of sorts, I couldn't help but adore him. Smart enough to read his way out of bad circumstances, tough enough to survive as a sailor, and savvy enough to become a media prescence before people even knew what it was was, this was one interesting guy.
"As the "well-balanced radicals" charged at the time, my efforts were so strenuous, so unsafe and unsane, so ultra-revolutionary, that I retarded the socialist development in the United States by five years. In passing, I wish to remark, at this late date, that it is my fond belief that I accelerated the socialist development in the United States by at least five minutes." Don't you love the snark? And this was before it was cool to be snarky! I recommend reading back to back with the Basketball Diaries for the true the kids aren't all right version 1.0 experience.
I was never a fan of London's novels, but his voice is so clear in this autobiography of sorts, I couldn't help but adore him. Smart enough to read his way out of bad circumstances, tough enough to survive as a sailor, and savvy enough to become a media prescence before people even knew what it was was, this was one interesting guy.
"As the "well-balanced radicals" charged at the time, my efforts were so strenuous, so unsafe and unsane, so ultra-revolutionary, that I retarded the socialist development in the United States by five years. In passing, I wish to remark, at this late date, that it is my fond belief that I accelerated the socialist development in the United States by at least five minutes." Don't you love the snark? And this was before it was cool to be snarky! I recommend reading back to back with the Basketball Diaries for the true the kids aren't all right version 1.0 experience.
February 15, 2023
"Beni sağaltıp kurtaran şey, aşk, sosyalizm ve HALK'tır, yani insan zihninin sağlığa yararlı icatlarıdır."
August 8, 2023
Citat 110 rokov staru knihu, v ktorej autor popisuje, ze dalsia generacia uz urcite odmietne alkohol a zeny vo svojich obciach vdaka volebnemu pravu zatvoria vycapy, kde sa opijaju ich muzi, je take smutnosmiesne.
February 11, 2018
Jack ha la mano felice anche quando racconta delle sue prime sbronze (un ricordo che lo terrà lontano dalla bottiglia per anni, non abbastanza però).
Il suo fisico è sempre superbo, la sua costituzione magnifica e le sue lotte epiche.
E' commovente quando racconta delle sue delusioni (la letteratura, l'arte, le donne) fino alla nuda verità, figura patetica e sconsolante. Dopodichè inizia a bere. Per tornare a sentirsi felice. Solo che poi è tristissimo. E quindi ribeve. L'alcol l'ha salvato una volta dal suicidio, ma non c'è riuscito la seconda (anche se io credo alla ricostruzione della peritonite mal curata e di farmaci sbagliati).
Vince la partita John vs Jack 0-1
Il suo fisico è sempre superbo, la sua costituzione magnifica e le sue lotte epiche.
E' commovente quando racconta delle sue delusioni (la letteratura, l'arte, le donne) fino alla nuda verità, figura patetica e sconsolante. Dopodichè inizia a bere. Per tornare a sentirsi felice. Solo che poi è tristissimo. E quindi ribeve. L'alcol l'ha salvato una volta dal suicidio, ma non c'è riuscito la seconda (anche se io credo alla ricostruzione della peritonite mal curata e di farmaci sbagliati).
Vince la partita John vs Jack 0-1
March 7, 2022
التقييم العام من قبل القراء 4 !!!!
الكاتب جاك لندن ..
و النتيجة للأسف قمة الإحباط.
يعني الراوي بصديق رحلته في الحياة لجون بارليكون ، على لسانه : ( المشروبات الروحية ) ..
من اول صفحة لآخر صفحة و هو في عالم الكحوليات.!
الكاتب جاك لندن ..
و النتيجة للأسف قمة الإحباط.
يعني الراوي بصديق رحلته في الحياة لجون بارليكون ، على لسانه : ( المشروبات الروحية ) ..
من اول صفحة لآخر صفحة و هو في عالم الكحوليات.!
November 5, 2025
Kralj alkohol savršeno pokazuje koliko je London bio svestan sopstvenih demona.
Iako mi nije legla, ovo je knjiga koja se ne zaboravlja, jer ne govori o piću, nego o čoveku koji više ne zna gde da skloni svoju tugu.
Iako mi nije legla, ovo je knjiga koja se ne zaboravlja, jer ne govori o piću, nego o čoveku koji više ne zna gde da skloni svoju tugu.
Read
June 16, 2015Brilliant memoir about alcohol and the ramifications in the Victorian era (and beyond). Exceptional writing. No surprise London was the first superstar American writer celebrity. The ending is an amazing self reflection of life and what it means to be alive, for London. Hard to put down.
January 28, 2023
Traģisks un skumjš Džeka Londona stāsts par viņa cīņu ar “zaļo pūķi”, kuru diemžēl viņš neuzveica. Arī talantīgākie, gudrākie un spēcīgākie cilvēki mēdz šo cīņu zaudēt.
June 29, 2019
This isn't an autobiography in the conventional sense. It's clearly and openly a Prohibitionist tract, published seven years before Prohibition came to pass. It just so happens that London chose his own drinking career to illustrate his argument. Hence, those looking for the story of Jack's life may be very frustrated as he ignores the details of his many adventures in favour of describing his many bouts of binge drinking and his slow descent into alcoholism (though he never admits to being an alcoholic - a mixture of macho pride and the era's poor understanding of addiction preventing).
Macho pride is a prominent, almost defining aspect of London's character, in fact. Despite writing of the evils of alcohol, he can't help repeatedly emphasising how his "superior constitution" allowed him to out drink nigh everybody he ever met and recover faster, too. Or do two men's work in the coal house of the electrical station, or carry more than the indigenous porters in the Yukon, or...the examples are numerous. Exactly how much exageration is going on here is hard to say, essentially unprovable. Nor did his pride limit itself to his physical prowess. He doesn't mind boasting about how he crammed two years' worth of high school in 6 months and passed the entry exams for the University of California, or how prodigiusly he read. Here the facts can be established because of the paper record: Not only did he make it to the Uni, his one semester there was an academic success, recording no grades below "B". His library was extant at his death and he used to scribble marginal notes, so it's easy to tell which books were used. Additionally, the references in his own books provide further evidence.
So whilst the reader won't learn more than the bare outline of London's life, there are character insights aplenty and if you want to see the social reasons for many a binge and many an insidious descent into addiction, from personal experience, here is as well-writed example as I can imagine.
It's a lively read, as compelling as any London fiction story or novel I've read (which is most of the major works, by now). Indeed, his second wife, Charmain, claimed it was fiction, alcoholism being extremely scandalous at the time - but the evidence doesn't back anything more than possible exageration of some of the binging episodes.
Clever as he was, though, London got the psychology of booze wrong in this regard: He thought Prohibition would work, that a generation would grow up without alcohol and never miss what they never had. Instead it was 13 years of the worst alcohol driven excesses in American history, driven by organised crime and the allure of the forbidden. He died before he saw himsekf proved wrong, though.
Macho pride is a prominent, almost defining aspect of London's character, in fact. Despite writing of the evils of alcohol, he can't help repeatedly emphasising how his "superior constitution" allowed him to out drink nigh everybody he ever met and recover faster, too. Or do two men's work in the coal house of the electrical station, or carry more than the indigenous porters in the Yukon, or...the examples are numerous. Exactly how much exageration is going on here is hard to say, essentially unprovable. Nor did his pride limit itself to his physical prowess. He doesn't mind boasting about how he crammed two years' worth of high school in 6 months and passed the entry exams for the University of California, or how prodigiusly he read. Here the facts can be established because of the paper record: Not only did he make it to the Uni, his one semester there was an academic success, recording no grades below "B". His library was extant at his death and he used to scribble marginal notes, so it's easy to tell which books were used. Additionally, the references in his own books provide further evidence.
So whilst the reader won't learn more than the bare outline of London's life, there are character insights aplenty and if you want to see the social reasons for many a binge and many an insidious descent into addiction, from personal experience, here is as well-writed example as I can imagine.
It's a lively read, as compelling as any London fiction story or novel I've read (which is most of the major works, by now). Indeed, his second wife, Charmain, claimed it was fiction, alcoholism being extremely scandalous at the time - but the evidence doesn't back anything more than possible exageration of some of the binging episodes.
Clever as he was, though, London got the psychology of booze wrong in this regard: He thought Prohibition would work, that a generation would grow up without alcohol and never miss what they never had. Instead it was 13 years of the worst alcohol driven excesses in American history, driven by organised crime and the allure of the forbidden. He died before he saw himsekf proved wrong, though.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 10, 2021
Βιβλίο αυτοβιογραφικό που αναφέρεται εκτενώς στα δικαιώματα, τις συνήθειες, τις συνθήκες εργασίας και γενικώς την ζωή των προλετάριων της Αμερικής. Α επίσης, μιλάει για αλκοόλ. Για πολύ, πολύ αλκοόλ. Για το αλκοόλ ως μέσο κοινωνικοποίησης και επέκτασης των γνωριμιών, για το αλκοόλ ως βοήθημα για την ανάδειξη του ανδρισμού και της (τοξικής) αρρενωπότητας, για το αλκοόλ ως τρόπο παρέκκλισης από τον δεοντολογικό κώδικα και τις ηθικές αξίες του καθενός κλπ.
Εγώ πότης δεν είμαι, δεν πίνω ούτε κόκα κόλα, αλλά νομίζω πως κάπως κατάλαβα πως και γιατί κάποιος καταφεύγει στο πιοτό. Well done Jack London💫
Εγώ πότης δεν είμαι, δεν πίνω ούτε κόκα κόλα, αλλά νομίζω πως κάπως κατάλαβα πως και γιατί κάποιος καταφεύγει στο πιοτό. Well done Jack London💫
March 10, 2025
amerikan edebiyatının en önemli yazarlarından birisi olan jack london'ın 1913 senesinde, ölümüne oldukça yakın bir tarihte, kaleme aldığı otobiyografisi.
london, henüz çok küçük yaşlarından itibaren başından geçen olayları alışılagelmişin dışında, alkolle olan dostluğu-husumeti ekseninde anlatmış bu kitapta. çocukluğundan, kendi yatıyla çıktığı son büyük gezisine kadar yaşadıklarını kronolojik bir biçimde aktarıyor. ancak london hayatının her evresinde maceradan hiç ayrı kalmadığı için kitap kendini adeta bir kurguymuş gibi çok akıcı bir şekilde okutmayı başarıyor.
beş yaşından, ölümüne kadar geçen kırk yıllık hayatı boyunca alkolle ciddi problemler yaşayan london, bir açıdan da "günah çıkartmak" için bu kitabı yazmış diyebilirim. çünkü eserin tamamında görüyoruz ki london asla bir alkolik olduğunu kabul etmiyor. kendine sürekli, bünyesinin ne kadar sağlam olduğunu, aslında isterse anında alkolle arasına mesafe koyabileceğini, kimyasal olarak asla alkole ihtiyaç duymadığını ve sadece sosyalleşebilmek amacıyla içtiğini telkin ediyor. alkolizm problemi olduğunu ancak hayatının geç bir evresinde fark edip, kabulleniyor.
jack london, alkolle olan ilişkisini ve bu durumun hayatına etkilerini, kendince bazen olumlu bazen olumsuz anlamda, o kadar edebi bir üslupla ve o kadar etkileyici bir dille yazmış ki en fazla alıntılama yaptığım kitaplardan birisi oldu. amerikan argosunda, başta viski olmak üzere tüm alkollü içkilere verilen "john barleycorn" ismine bu kadar kişilik yükleyip, karakterleştiren, adeta otobiyografisinin en önemli karekteri haline getiren de jack london'dan başkası olamazdı.
kitap boyunca jack london'ın okumaya olan düşkünlüğünü, asla sönmeyen hayal gücünü, maceraya olan hevesini, insanlarla kurduğu bağları, çalışkanlığını, gururunu, yapmak istediği mesleğe olan tutkusunu o kadar ayrıntılı görüyoruz ki bir anlamda büyük yazar nasıl olunur bunu anlıyoruz.
son olarak çevirmen levent cinemre'den bahsetmeden reviewi bitirmek olmazdı. kendisi jack london'ı öylesine özümsemiş ve içselleştirmiş ki bu kitap da dahil olmak üzere tüm çevirilerinde, "iyi çevirmen nasıl olmalıdır?" sorusunun cevabını veriyor. jack london ile ilgili olan yazılarını okursanız, röportajlarını ve videolarını izlerseniz onun nasıl bir london sevdalısı olduğunu görürsünüz. edebiyatla hiç arası olmayan birisi dahi levent cinemre üzerinden jack london'ı tanıyıp edebiyatı sevebilir. neyse ki henüz kendisinin yaşı genç ve daha türkçe'ye çevrilecek bir sürü jack london eseri var.
london, henüz çok küçük yaşlarından itibaren başından geçen olayları alışılagelmişin dışında, alkolle olan dostluğu-husumeti ekseninde anlatmış bu kitapta. çocukluğundan, kendi yatıyla çıktığı son büyük gezisine kadar yaşadıklarını kronolojik bir biçimde aktarıyor. ancak london hayatının her evresinde maceradan hiç ayrı kalmadığı için kitap kendini adeta bir kurguymuş gibi çok akıcı bir şekilde okutmayı başarıyor.
beş yaşından, ölümüne kadar geçen kırk yıllık hayatı boyunca alkolle ciddi problemler yaşayan london, bir açıdan da "günah çıkartmak" için bu kitabı yazmış diyebilirim. çünkü eserin tamamında görüyoruz ki london asla bir alkolik olduğunu kabul etmiyor. kendine sürekli, bünyesinin ne kadar sağlam olduğunu, aslında isterse anında alkolle arasına mesafe koyabileceğini, kimyasal olarak asla alkole ihtiyaç duymadığını ve sadece sosyalleşebilmek amacıyla içtiğini telkin ediyor. alkolizm problemi olduğunu ancak hayatının geç bir evresinde fark edip, kabulleniyor.
jack london, alkolle olan ilişkisini ve bu durumun hayatına etkilerini, kendince bazen olumlu bazen olumsuz anlamda, o kadar edebi bir üslupla ve o kadar etkileyici bir dille yazmış ki en fazla alıntılama yaptığım kitaplardan birisi oldu. amerikan argosunda, başta viski olmak üzere tüm alkollü içkilere verilen "john barleycorn" ismine bu kadar kişilik yükleyip, karakterleştiren, adeta otobiyografisinin en önemli karekteri haline getiren de jack london'dan başkası olamazdı.
kitap boyunca jack london'ın okumaya olan düşkünlüğünü, asla sönmeyen hayal gücünü, maceraya olan hevesini, insanlarla kurduğu bağları, çalışkanlığını, gururunu, yapmak istediği mesleğe olan tutkusunu o kadar ayrıntılı görüyoruz ki bir anlamda büyük yazar nasıl olunur bunu anlıyoruz.
son olarak çevirmen levent cinemre'den bahsetmeden reviewi bitirmek olmazdı. kendisi jack london'ı öylesine özümsemiş ve içselleştirmiş ki bu kitap da dahil olmak üzere tüm çevirilerinde, "iyi çevirmen nasıl olmalıdır?" sorusunun cevabını veriyor. jack london ile ilgili olan yazılarını okursanız, röportajlarını ve videolarını izlerseniz onun nasıl bir london sevdalısı olduğunu görürsünüz. edebiyatla hiç arası olmayan birisi dahi levent cinemre üzerinden jack london'ı tanıyıp edebiyatı sevebilir. neyse ki henüz kendisinin yaşı genç ve daha türkçe'ye çevrilecek bir sürü jack london eseri var.
March 19, 2018
Сега вече съм на ясно защо това е първото четиво, което се препоръчва на сбирките на анонимните алкохолици. Книгата е за живота на Лондон, но не е биографична, защото е решил да наблегне на взаимовръзките си с „Цар Алкохол”(странен,но доста успешен превод на заглавието) през жизнения си път, без да изпада в подробности за собствените си възходи и падения извън влиянието му.
Гневен, забавен, ръбат и много, мног откровен. Всичко това е гарнирано с полирано с години умение на перото и многобройни екстремни преживявания за един толкова кратък живот.
Това е книга за Джек Лондон, но е и книга за и против алкохола. Той е му е верен спътник, понякога необходим, но никога желан. Главният герой в продължение на години малко по малко и зпада под зависимост от него. Бунтът на автора, обаче, както в повечето му книги, е насочен срещу обществото, което е наложило рамките си, така че алкохолът да стане единственото социално оръжие на нормалния човек и единствената братска утеха на мислещия, отрязвайки всеки избор на трезвеника.
Сега, век по-късно, книгата може да се разглежда с всяка една масова човешка зависимост, без да изгуби силата си. Човешките същества просто умират да се събират по интереси (да се чете слабости) и бурно отхвърлят всеки извън техните мании. И все пак, всеки (а това си е направо всеки човек), който е имал дори минимален досег с Цар Алкохол ще се познае някъде из страниците, защото Лондон е честен до еретизъм, преживял е много и е изключително талантлив с перото.
Наистина задължителна книга, нямаща нищо общо с масово четените книги на автора(не че те са лоши, напротив). Единствената причина да не е влязла в редиците на награждаваните класики, според мен е политическата ориентация на Лондон и отказът му да слугува на определени тенденции.
Гневен, забавен, ръбат и много, мног откровен. Всичко това е гарнирано с полирано с години умение на перото и многобройни екстремни преживявания за един толкова кратък живот.
Това е книга за Джек Лондон, но е и книга за и против алкохола. Той е му е верен спътник, понякога необходим, но никога желан. Главният герой в продължение на години малко по малко и зпада под зависимост от него. Бунтът на автора, обаче, както в повечето му книги, е насочен срещу обществото, което е наложило рамките си, така че алкохолът да стане единственото социално оръжие на нормалния човек и единствената братска утеха на мислещия, отрязвайки всеки избор на трезвеника.
Сега, век по-късно, книгата може да се разглежда с всяка една масова човешка зависимост, без да изгуби силата си. Човешките същества просто умират да се събират по интереси (да се чете слабости) и бурно отхвърлят всеки извън техните мании. И все пак, всеки (а това си е направо всеки човек), който е имал дори минимален досег с Цар Алкохол ще се познае някъде из страниците, защото Лондон е честен до еретизъм, преживял е много и е изключително талантлив с перото.
Наистина задължителна книга, нямаща нищо общо с масово четените книги на автора(не че те са лоши, напротив). Единствената причина да не е влязла в редиците на награждаваните класики, според мен е политическата ориентация на Лондон и отказът му да слугува на определени тенденции.
December 3, 2011
Reading “John Barleycorn” has given me a whole new appreciation for London and his writing style. The only other books I’ve read of Jack London’s was when I was a kid, “Call of the Wild” and “White Fang”.
John Barleycorn begins with London’s vote for women’s suffrage in the hopes that women would vote for prohibition. His thought process was that the availability of alcohol causes the desire to drink. He then goes on to explain his own experiences with alcohol and the effects it has had on his life. I don’t know if this is just a story of propaganda or truly his memoirs as an alcoholic. But London does capture the alcoholic's mindset to a tee. I was fascinated by his experiences – he led an extremely interesting life; cannery worker, oyster pirate, goldminer, hobo, sailor – and ultimately, a great writer. On top of all that, he was self-educated. I love that he was born and raised in the California Bay Area, my home as well.:) I recognized many of the places he mentions in Oakland and San Francisco – even Heinold's First and Last Chance Saloon in Oakland’s Jack London Square, been there a couple of times myself. ;)
“The fortunate man is the one who cannot take more than a couple of drinks without becoming intoxicated. The unfortunate wight is the one who can take many glasses without betraying a sign; who must take numerous glasses in order to get the ‘kick’.” – Jack London, John Barleycorn: Alcoholic Memoirs
John Barleycorn begins with London’s vote for women’s suffrage in the hopes that women would vote for prohibition. His thought process was that the availability of alcohol causes the desire to drink. He then goes on to explain his own experiences with alcohol and the effects it has had on his life. I don’t know if this is just a story of propaganda or truly his memoirs as an alcoholic. But London does capture the alcoholic's mindset to a tee. I was fascinated by his experiences – he led an extremely interesting life; cannery worker, oyster pirate, goldminer, hobo, sailor – and ultimately, a great writer. On top of all that, he was self-educated. I love that he was born and raised in the California Bay Area, my home as well.:) I recognized many of the places he mentions in Oakland and San Francisco – even Heinold's First and Last Chance Saloon in Oakland’s Jack London Square, been there a couple of times myself. ;)
“The fortunate man is the one who cannot take more than a couple of drinks without becoming intoxicated. The unfortunate wight is the one who can take many glasses without betraying a sign; who must take numerous glasses in order to get the ‘kick’.” – Jack London, John Barleycorn: Alcoholic Memoirs
May 2, 2025
⭐⭐⭐½
"Le memorie alcoliche di un bevitore pettoruto"
Jack ci piace per la sua spavalda spacconeria, per il suo ego smisurato. Che nel libro di turno sia un portentoso domatore di canidi o un indomito avventuriero, uno scrittore dalla volontà di ferro o un carcerato che vagabonda tra le stelle nirvaneggiando, non cambia niente: a Jack si vuol sempre bene.
Qua però l'ho trovato abbastanza ripetitivo e poco ispirato.
Fondamentalmente ha scritto questo libro con lo scopo di dire "ragazzi, non bevete. Il governo dovrebbe bandire l'alcool".
Poi ci piazza dentro aneddoti e racconti che più che altro risultano essere un elenco di bevute e viaggi, con Jack che continua a sottolineare quanto lui sia pettoruto, figo e non dipendente dall'alcool.
E quando sei stordito da tutto ciò, ecco che arrivano le ultime 30 pagine e London cala gli assi.
Trenta pagine filosofiche, pessimiste, ma al contempo forti, sincere e profonde. La fenice è risorta, il re è tornato!
"Le memorie alcoliche di un bevitore pettoruto"
Jack ci piace per la sua spavalda spacconeria, per il suo ego smisurato. Che nel libro di turno sia un portentoso domatore di canidi o un indomito avventuriero, uno scrittore dalla volontà di ferro o un carcerato che vagabonda tra le stelle nirvaneggiando, non cambia niente: a Jack si vuol sempre bene.
Qua però l'ho trovato abbastanza ripetitivo e poco ispirato.
Fondamentalmente ha scritto questo libro con lo scopo di dire "ragazzi, non bevete. Il governo dovrebbe bandire l'alcool".
Poi ci piazza dentro aneddoti e racconti che più che altro risultano essere un elenco di bevute e viaggi, con Jack che continua a sottolineare quanto lui sia pettoruto, figo e non dipendente dall'alcool.
E quando sei stordito da tutto ciò, ecco che arrivano le ultime 30 pagine e London cala gli assi.
Trenta pagine filosofiche, pessimiste, ma al contempo forti, sincere e profonde. La fenice è risorta, il re è tornato!
December 30, 2021
In questo memoir Jack ripercorre la sua vita per raccontarcela dal punto di vista di un uomo che ha vissuto quasi sempre in compagnia di John Barleycorn ovvero l’alcol.
Ha iniziato a bere da bambino e non ha più smesso ma non è mai stato vittima di questa dipendenza. Era lui a dominare la bottiglia e non viceversa.
Un altro di quei libri fondamentali per conoscere a fondo la vita di questo straordinario autore
Ha iniziato a bere da bambino e non ha più smesso ma non è mai stato vittima di questa dipendenza. Era lui a dominare la bottiglia e non viceversa.
Un altro di quei libri fondamentali per conoscere a fondo la vita di questo straordinario autore
August 6, 2011
The modern myth of the alcoholic or drug addict artist has only been with us a short while. Lord Byron the debauched poet drinking and fucking his way through his short life, Coleridge getting more and more addicted to drugs, eventually losing his talent, family, health and mind. From then we have the drink addled death of Poe, to the Victorian writers who would use opium like Wilkie Collins and who would create characters who openly used cocaine and opium like Sherlock Holmes. And then we come to the darkly attractive image of the drinker writer. The early 20th century was strewn with these: Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Joyce, Chandler, Faulkner, and Jack London.
This book is London's experiences with the drink or as he personifies it throughout the memoir, John Barleycorn. It's a strange book. Used in Alcholics Anonymous clinics in America, it's said that the sobering message London focuses on most is the way alcohol ends lives. He begins the book in his present where he has just that day voted for prohibition of alcohol. He says that although his experiences of the drug are many, he fears that it ultimately brings too much grimness and death to those who drink it for it to be available for the next generation. Written in 1913, 3 years before the author's death, London didn't live long enough to see prohibition become enforced and then fail dismally never to return. However, the feeling throughout the book is a conflicting sentiment of jollity, high spirits, and adventure that he also associates with alcohol.
Starting at the extremely young age of 5, through to his teenage years and then adulthood, we get a glimpse into the making of the man. In each encounter with alcohol we see London learning something of the world. The community of alcohol where boys and girls meet, drink, dance, and eventually walk off together, is the first memory he associates with drinking. Later on as an oyster pirate drinking is associated with making friends and having a good time with them. He learns after studying (and abstaining) for 3 months where he worked 18 hours a day at graduating high school and entering college, that once work is over it is a relief to drink and lose yourself for a few hours. Later when he is sailing about the pacific and doing several jobs at once he finds alcohol necessary to stem the doubt and fear in his mind that he might lose friends, family, and himself to tropical disease and storms. These are all positive points to drinking that he presents quite brazenly to the reader, which if the reader is like myself a drinking man, will find himself agreeing with and maybe even smiling at a bit at some of the memories.
He does however talk about the side affects of drinking. Besides the obvious hangovers, being robbed whilst passed out, wallowing in self regret and stalling ambition, he talks quite profoundly about one night when he was 16. Drunk and out on the water in the middle of the night he swims out against the tide. He suddenly wants to die. He's had enough. Out he goes with the intention of washing ashore in a few days' time bloated and dead. A friend sees him though and with the help of others brings him ashore. London then talks about the high numbers of dead friends he lost to alcoholism and drink related accidents. Of lives ruined by the drink, when kind and gentle men become drunk and consequently act rashly, either violently beating someone or else killing another in blind drunkenness. They wake to find themselves in jail and then spending several years in prison.
He also talks about finding alcohol addictive (though he never uses that word or ever admits to being an alcoholic), where after writing his 1000 words each morning he takes a drink of whisky and carries on with his day. Then he finds himself taking a drink of whisky after 500 words. Then he is taking a drink before writing as he drank late that night and needs a pick me up to settle. Instead of reading himself to sleep he takes a drink instead. Though it appears that London has become an alcoholic he does go through periods of abstinency where he goes for 145 days in a ship with men who drank every day and he could have had a drink but decided against it. He also drinks everything in the liquor cabinet and refuses to replenish it. This he admits does cause him pain as he feels the effects of not drinking. Also the fact that he counts the days he doesn't take a drink shows that he is aware of this and makes you wonder whether he believes himself when he says the reader that he is most definitely not an alcoholic.
Yet the best parts of the book are the non alcoholic parts. Reading about London's brutal early life working in mills and then getting conned into doing the work of two men shovelling coal for 16 hours a day is mesmerising and has the best of London's writing. It's a relief to learn of London's success as a writer just a few years later, and it's inspiring and staggering to read about his energy and hunger. To work that hard for so little, and then studying to get into college, and then spending so long writing (there is a part of the book where he talks about his early attempts at writing on a first generation typewriter that was funny); for me these were the best parts of the book and reflective of the great man London was. It's a testament to the man's work ethic that he made himself into the man he wanted to be, educated himself, and then turned himself into a writer (the thing he least wanted to be in a list of 5 that he made when he was 19- at 1 was musician!).
The tone of the book is upbeat and clear minded, with London writing at times soaring prose and at worst a sort of convoluted prosaic abstractness, particularly in the later part of the book where he has an inner monologue with himself and an entity called the White Logic. Nevertheless it is an engrossing and enlightening book. Though I would say London's righteousness at banning alcohol along with opium and other drugs for street sale is naive, his message is clear: John Barleycorn, or drink, is an entity likely to stab you in the back either when you're young or you're old, in the end he collects his due. A fine message to be aware of.
It's a shame London's message was for people to ban drinking as in his book he shows what an amazing and interesting life he led with the alcohol. Nevertheless his legacy and image of the hard drinking writer would prevail and many would follow in his wake. A strange legacy for a brilliant writer who would have been great with or without the help of John Barleycorn.
This book is London's experiences with the drink or as he personifies it throughout the memoir, John Barleycorn. It's a strange book. Used in Alcholics Anonymous clinics in America, it's said that the sobering message London focuses on most is the way alcohol ends lives. He begins the book in his present where he has just that day voted for prohibition of alcohol. He says that although his experiences of the drug are many, he fears that it ultimately brings too much grimness and death to those who drink it for it to be available for the next generation. Written in 1913, 3 years before the author's death, London didn't live long enough to see prohibition become enforced and then fail dismally never to return. However, the feeling throughout the book is a conflicting sentiment of jollity, high spirits, and adventure that he also associates with alcohol.
Starting at the extremely young age of 5, through to his teenage years and then adulthood, we get a glimpse into the making of the man. In each encounter with alcohol we see London learning something of the world. The community of alcohol where boys and girls meet, drink, dance, and eventually walk off together, is the first memory he associates with drinking. Later on as an oyster pirate drinking is associated with making friends and having a good time with them. He learns after studying (and abstaining) for 3 months where he worked 18 hours a day at graduating high school and entering college, that once work is over it is a relief to drink and lose yourself for a few hours. Later when he is sailing about the pacific and doing several jobs at once he finds alcohol necessary to stem the doubt and fear in his mind that he might lose friends, family, and himself to tropical disease and storms. These are all positive points to drinking that he presents quite brazenly to the reader, which if the reader is like myself a drinking man, will find himself agreeing with and maybe even smiling at a bit at some of the memories.
He does however talk about the side affects of drinking. Besides the obvious hangovers, being robbed whilst passed out, wallowing in self regret and stalling ambition, he talks quite profoundly about one night when he was 16. Drunk and out on the water in the middle of the night he swims out against the tide. He suddenly wants to die. He's had enough. Out he goes with the intention of washing ashore in a few days' time bloated and dead. A friend sees him though and with the help of others brings him ashore. London then talks about the high numbers of dead friends he lost to alcoholism and drink related accidents. Of lives ruined by the drink, when kind and gentle men become drunk and consequently act rashly, either violently beating someone or else killing another in blind drunkenness. They wake to find themselves in jail and then spending several years in prison.
He also talks about finding alcohol addictive (though he never uses that word or ever admits to being an alcoholic), where after writing his 1000 words each morning he takes a drink of whisky and carries on with his day. Then he finds himself taking a drink of whisky after 500 words. Then he is taking a drink before writing as he drank late that night and needs a pick me up to settle. Instead of reading himself to sleep he takes a drink instead. Though it appears that London has become an alcoholic he does go through periods of abstinency where he goes for 145 days in a ship with men who drank every day and he could have had a drink but decided against it. He also drinks everything in the liquor cabinet and refuses to replenish it. This he admits does cause him pain as he feels the effects of not drinking. Also the fact that he counts the days he doesn't take a drink shows that he is aware of this and makes you wonder whether he believes himself when he says the reader that he is most definitely not an alcoholic.
Yet the best parts of the book are the non alcoholic parts. Reading about London's brutal early life working in mills and then getting conned into doing the work of two men shovelling coal for 16 hours a day is mesmerising and has the best of London's writing. It's a relief to learn of London's success as a writer just a few years later, and it's inspiring and staggering to read about his energy and hunger. To work that hard for so little, and then studying to get into college, and then spending so long writing (there is a part of the book where he talks about his early attempts at writing on a first generation typewriter that was funny); for me these were the best parts of the book and reflective of the great man London was. It's a testament to the man's work ethic that he made himself into the man he wanted to be, educated himself, and then turned himself into a writer (the thing he least wanted to be in a list of 5 that he made when he was 19- at 1 was musician!).
The tone of the book is upbeat and clear minded, with London writing at times soaring prose and at worst a sort of convoluted prosaic abstractness, particularly in the later part of the book where he has an inner monologue with himself and an entity called the White Logic. Nevertheless it is an engrossing and enlightening book. Though I would say London's righteousness at banning alcohol along with opium and other drugs for street sale is naive, his message is clear: John Barleycorn, or drink, is an entity likely to stab you in the back either when you're young or you're old, in the end he collects his due. A fine message to be aware of.
It's a shame London's message was for people to ban drinking as in his book he shows what an amazing and interesting life he led with the alcohol. Nevertheless his legacy and image of the hard drinking writer would prevail and many would follow in his wake. A strange legacy for a brilliant writer who would have been great with or without the help of John Barleycorn.
August 9, 2019
John Barleycorn è il re dei bugiardi e, insieme, è la sincerità fatta persona. È il compagno regale col quale si passeggia insieme agli Dei. Ma è anche il più intimo amico della Morte. Ti porta alla nuda verità e alla morte. Inventa le visioni più chiare ma pure i sogni più immondi. È nemico della vita ma possiede una saggezza superiore a quella della vita stessa. È un assassino dalle mani insanguinate, un assassino della gioventù.
John Barleycorn è la personificazione dell'alcool e London sembra volerlo corteggiare e poi allontanare con tutte le sue forze, forte della sua giovane età crede di poterlo controllare e vincere ma lo sottovaluta. Evita i luoghi in cui rischia d'incontrarlo, evita gli impieghi dove sicuramente si procede a braccetto con lui per sopravvivere. Lo disgusta e lo ingurgita più per dovere che per piacere.
Eppure John Barleycorn lo fa suo già da piccolo con due grandi e memorabili bevute. A nulla serve scappare e nascondersi quando si sa già di andare incontro ad un inevitabile connubio autodistruttivo.
Beve disgustato solo per spavalderia, per dimostrare di essere uomo. Beve e spende tutto quello che guadagna illudendosi di farlo solo per essere socievole.
Beve con la consapevolezza che John Barleycorn si prende le menti migliori, che proprio di questi tipi in gamba si impadronisce, quelli che han dentro il fuoco, quelli che sono grandi, ardenti, quelli che hanno il meglio delle debolezze umane. E John Barleycorn estingue il fuoco, e quando non li ammazza immediatamente, o non li rende maniaci, allora li ingaglioffa, li fa rozzi, li stravolge e li malforma, contro la originaria bontà e bellezza della loro natura.
Ma è lontano da lui che affronta le scelte fondamentali della sua vita e vi si getta sempre con impeto e impegno.
Lavora come nessuno prima di lui.
Studia voracemente recuperando gli anni persi. Scrive e affronta la sua febbre creativa come un invasato.
Impara dai libri quanto basta per capire che ha appena sfiorato l'orlo della veste del sapere e si illude di essere lui il più forte, di poter dominare il vizio.
Una prima parte quasi clautrofobica, dove l'alcool predomina in maniera ossessiva e il suo voler precisare quanto lo disgusti alla lunga insinua il dubbio della giustificazione e della negazione inconscia. Poi, abbandonati gli ambienti del porto, il racconto si apre a tutte le esperienze che hanno formato il carattere di London, inizia il periodo anche narrato in Martin Eden, la parte migliore del libro, meno goliardica, più intima.
I viaggi, l'ammissione della totale dipendenza, la necessità dell'alcool come compagno di vita, la sconfitta.
Il tributo che si deve pagare a John Barleycorn è il suicidio, rapido o lento. Una fine improvvisa o una lunga decadenza. Nessun suo amico sfugge alla fatale, mortale, scadenza.
John Barleycorn è la personificazione dell'alcool e London sembra volerlo corteggiare e poi allontanare con tutte le sue forze, forte della sua giovane età crede di poterlo controllare e vincere ma lo sottovaluta. Evita i luoghi in cui rischia d'incontrarlo, evita gli impieghi dove sicuramente si procede a braccetto con lui per sopravvivere. Lo disgusta e lo ingurgita più per dovere che per piacere.
Eppure John Barleycorn lo fa suo già da piccolo con due grandi e memorabili bevute. A nulla serve scappare e nascondersi quando si sa già di andare incontro ad un inevitabile connubio autodistruttivo.
Beve disgustato solo per spavalderia, per dimostrare di essere uomo. Beve e spende tutto quello che guadagna illudendosi di farlo solo per essere socievole.
Beve con la consapevolezza che John Barleycorn si prende le menti migliori, che proprio di questi tipi in gamba si impadronisce, quelli che han dentro il fuoco, quelli che sono grandi, ardenti, quelli che hanno il meglio delle debolezze umane. E John Barleycorn estingue il fuoco, e quando non li ammazza immediatamente, o non li rende maniaci, allora li ingaglioffa, li fa rozzi, li stravolge e li malforma, contro la originaria bontà e bellezza della loro natura.
Ma è lontano da lui che affronta le scelte fondamentali della sua vita e vi si getta sempre con impeto e impegno.
Lavora come nessuno prima di lui.
Studia voracemente recuperando gli anni persi. Scrive e affronta la sua febbre creativa come un invasato.
Impara dai libri quanto basta per capire che ha appena sfiorato l'orlo della veste del sapere e si illude di essere lui il più forte, di poter dominare il vizio.
Una prima parte quasi clautrofobica, dove l'alcool predomina in maniera ossessiva e il suo voler precisare quanto lo disgusti alla lunga insinua il dubbio della giustificazione e della negazione inconscia. Poi, abbandonati gli ambienti del porto, il racconto si apre a tutte le esperienze che hanno formato il carattere di London, inizia il periodo anche narrato in Martin Eden, la parte migliore del libro, meno goliardica, più intima.
I viaggi, l'ammissione della totale dipendenza, la necessità dell'alcool come compagno di vita, la sconfitta.
Il tributo che si deve pagare a John Barleycorn è il suicidio, rapido o lento. Una fine improvvisa o una lunga decadenza. Nessun suo amico sfugge alla fatale, mortale, scadenza.
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