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Egy családregény vége
„A koncentrikus körökben kibomló történet a zsidó múlt mélységeibe nyúlik vissza, és a mitikus, a történelmi és a politikai valóság szintézisére törekszik. A történetet egy kisfiú, Simon Péter meséli el, akinek legmeghatározóbb viszonya és élménye a nagyapja. A történet, habár utolsó szava a Nem, mégis egy hagyomány végső széteséséről tudósít. A kisregény költői-zenei egységét az a végigkomponált, egyenletesen megtartott gyerekhang teremti meg, amit a korabeli kritika is a könyv talán legnagyobb erényének tartott.” – Balassa Péter
151 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1977
21 people are currently reading
631 people want to read
About the author
Péter Nádas
105 books233 followersHungarian novelist, essayist, and dramatist, a major central European literary figure. Nádas made his international breakthrough with the monumental novel A Book of Memories (1986), a psychological novel following the tradition of Proust, Thomas Mann, and magic realism.
Péter Nádas was born in Budapest, as the son of a high-ranking party functionary. Nádas's grandfather, Moritz Grünfeld, changed his name into Hungarian, which was considered a scandal in the family. Nádas's youth was shadowed by the loss of his parents. Nádas's mother died of cancer when he was young and his father committed suicide. At the age of 16 his uncle gave him a camera, and after dropping out of school Nádas turned to photojournalism. During the late 1960s and early 1970s, he worked as an editor, reader, and drama consultant. After the Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, Nádas quit his job as a journalist and devoted himself to literature. "I resigned, walked out, and turned my back on the system to save my soul," he later said.
Péter Nádas was born in Budapest, as the son of a high-ranking party functionary. Nádas's grandfather, Moritz Grünfeld, changed his name into Hungarian, which was considered a scandal in the family. Nádas's youth was shadowed by the loss of his parents. Nádas's mother died of cancer when he was young and his father committed suicide. At the age of 16 his uncle gave him a camera, and after dropping out of school Nádas turned to photojournalism. During the late 1960s and early 1970s, he worked as an editor, reader, and drama consultant. After the Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, Nádas quit his job as a journalist and devoted himself to literature. "I resigned, walked out, and turned my back on the system to save my soul," he later said.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 41 reviews
April 7, 2016
I decided to write a short review in English, although this is a Hungarian novel and there are two reasons for me doing so. First, Nádas is one of the few Hungarian authors whose books are actually translated to English so there is a chance that some of you will read this novel, and second, I haven't seen any critiques on here in English which would do justice to this marvellous little work.
As the title gives it away, the book is a family story, mainly narrated by a little boy who is living with his grandparents during the communist 1950's in Hungary. His narration is very fragmented throughout the book, the stories are coming together pince by piece, jumping back and forth in time. The other main figure in the book is the Jewish granddad, who is telling the story of the family to his grandson, passing on the knowledge of thousands of years. He married a Catholic Christian woman, which is his way of saying no to all the suffering during the history of Judaism. The tragedy of his life is that his son, (the Father of the boy) turned his back to religion and became a highly ranked communist official, thus 'stepping out of history'.
These three systems of values (Jewish, Catholic and nonreligious/communist) are affecting the boy, who is trying to take all of this in, while also creating his own mythological and imaginary world. I don't want to spoil any of the events in the book, so it's hard to write much more, however it is a splendid piece of Hungarian literature and I can only hope that none of its gems are lost in translation.
As the title gives it away, the book is a family story, mainly narrated by a little boy who is living with his grandparents during the communist 1950's in Hungary. His narration is very fragmented throughout the book, the stories are coming together pince by piece, jumping back and forth in time. The other main figure in the book is the Jewish granddad, who is telling the story of the family to his grandson, passing on the knowledge of thousands of years. He married a Catholic Christian woman, which is his way of saying no to all the suffering during the history of Judaism. The tragedy of his life is that his son, (the Father of the boy) turned his back to religion and became a highly ranked communist official, thus 'stepping out of history'.
These three systems of values (Jewish, Catholic and nonreligious/communist) are affecting the boy, who is trying to take all of this in, while also creating his own mythological and imaginary world. I don't want to spoil any of the events in the book, so it's hard to write much more, however it is a splendid piece of Hungarian literature and I can only hope that none of its gems are lost in translation.
November 1, 2021
Koniec pewnej sagi rodzinnej to całkiem interesująca pozycja, choć wymaga od czytających pokładów cierpliwości (nieco chaotyczna, poszarpana narracja). To powieść, w której przeplatają się ze sobą, w całkiem swobodny sposób, dwa światy – świat dziecka i jego dziecięcej wyobraźni z historią żydowskiej rodziny Simonów oraz wydarzenia lat 50-tych na Węgrzech.
Nádas, czyniąc bohaterem dziesięcioletniego chłopca, rysuje wiarygodny obraz odczuwania świata przez dziecko, które wielu spraw nie jest jeszcze w stanie zrozumieć. I jedynie przeczuwa, że wokół dzieje się coś złego.
Jest to bardzo krótka powieść, z gęstą fabułą połączoną z przenikliwym obserwatorskim zacięciem, jednak jest w niej coś intrygującego.
Jestem ciekawy następnego spotkania z Nádasem.
Nádas, czyniąc bohaterem dziesięcioletniego chłopca, rysuje wiarygodny obraz odczuwania świata przez dziecko, które wielu spraw nie jest jeszcze w stanie zrozumieć. I jedynie przeczuwa, że wokół dzieje się coś złego.
Jest to bardzo krótka powieść, z gęstą fabułą połączoną z przenikliwym obserwatorskim zacięciem, jednak jest w niej coś intrygującego.
Jestem ciekawy następnego spotkania z Nádasem.
January 16, 2018
Konu
Bir Aile Romanının Sonu, Stalin Dönemi ve komünizm sonrası Avrupa içinde Macaristan'ı konu alan bir kitap. Kitap çoklu anlatıcıyı sahip olsa da genel olarak ana kahramınız olan çocuk Peter Simon ve ailesinin yaşadıklarını, 11 ayrı bölüm halinde babasının devlete hainlik suçundan içeri atılması sürecini anlatıyor.
Nadas, dönemin karamsarlığını, depresyonunu, içeri atılan kişileri, kayıp olan insanları aile, kökler ve din üstünden çok eleştirel olarak dile getirmiş. Peter Simon'un hayal gücü, kendisine anlatılan masallar ve büyükbabasıyla olan inanılmaz diyalogları etrafında, dönemin Macar toplumuna karşı farklı bir eleştirel bakış açısı geliştirmiş.
Nadas, ciddi olarak bir çok sembolik göndermeler yaparak Yahudi Mitleri ve masallar üstünden çok sert eleştiriler getirmiş. Kullanılan renkler( şeffaf), nesneler ( duvar) ve totemler ( yılan, balık) ana kahramanızın hayal dünyasında ya da anlatılan öyküler de katmanlar halinde okura sunulmuş.
Sonuç
Öncelikle, küçük bir kitap olmasına rağmen çoklu anlatımlar, aşırı dinsel gönderimler olması ritim açısından bir süre sonra yoruyor. Peter'in kendini keşfi ve hayal dünyası ve büyükbabasıyla olan muhabbetleri gerçekten çok güzeldi. Bunun yanında, Nadas bu depresif süreçte, okurun zihninde cidden virtüozluk derecesinde mekan tasvirlerine ve mekanın rengini çok güzel belirtiyor.Fakat, kavramsal olarak çok fazla din ve varoluş ve belleksizlik temaları bir yerden sonra beni kitaptan kopardı.
Sanırım gene de kitap ben de bir şeyler bıraktı ve kullanılan teknik yapıyı sevdim.
İyi Okumalar
5/3
Bir Aile Romanının Sonu, Stalin Dönemi ve komünizm sonrası Avrupa içinde Macaristan'ı konu alan bir kitap. Kitap çoklu anlatıcıyı sahip olsa da genel olarak ana kahramınız olan çocuk Peter Simon ve ailesinin yaşadıklarını, 11 ayrı bölüm halinde babasının devlete hainlik suçundan içeri atılması sürecini anlatıyor.
Nadas, dönemin karamsarlığını, depresyonunu, içeri atılan kişileri, kayıp olan insanları aile, kökler ve din üstünden çok eleştirel olarak dile getirmiş. Peter Simon'un hayal gücü, kendisine anlatılan masallar ve büyükbabasıyla olan inanılmaz diyalogları etrafında, dönemin Macar toplumuna karşı farklı bir eleştirel bakış açısı geliştirmiş.
Nadas, ciddi olarak bir çok sembolik göndermeler yaparak Yahudi Mitleri ve masallar üstünden çok sert eleştiriler getirmiş. Kullanılan renkler( şeffaf), nesneler ( duvar) ve totemler ( yılan, balık) ana kahramanızın hayal dünyasında ya da anlatılan öyküler de katmanlar halinde okura sunulmuş.
Sonuç
Öncelikle, küçük bir kitap olmasına rağmen çoklu anlatımlar, aşırı dinsel gönderimler olması ritim açısından bir süre sonra yoruyor. Peter'in kendini keşfi ve hayal dünyası ve büyükbabasıyla olan muhabbetleri gerçekten çok güzeldi. Bunun yanında, Nadas bu depresif süreçte, okurun zihninde cidden virtüozluk derecesinde mekan tasvirlerine ve mekanın rengini çok güzel belirtiyor.Fakat, kavramsal olarak çok fazla din ve varoluş ve belleksizlik temaları bir yerden sonra beni kitaptan kopardı.
Sanırım gene de kitap ben de bir şeyler bıraktı ve kullanılan teknik yapıyı sevdim.
İyi Okumalar
5/3
September 16, 2021
Küçük bir çocuğun dünyayı ve çevresinde olup bitenleri anlamlandırma ve inanılmaz hayal gücünün içinde büyüme hikayesi olarak-biraz da sıkıcı sayılabilecek bir anlatımla- başlayan bu zor roman, büyük bir sürprizle, harika bir sonla tamamlanıyor.
Yahudi bir ailenin, zorluklarla dolu ‘zaman bükücü’ hikayesini okurken, yazarın; dinler tarihi efsaneleri ve felsefi tartışmalarla, inanılmaz saptamalarına ve eleştirilerine de tanık oluyoruz.
Benim çok da beğenmediğim, farklı bir akış ve anlatım biçimi olmasına rağmen, çok etkilendiğimi söylemek istiyorum.
Neredeyse kitabın ortalarına kadar, okumayı bırakmak veya atlayarak okumak arasında gidip gelen düşüncelerimi, yazara saygım nedeniyle gerçekleştirmemekten dolayı kitabın sonunda son derece mutlu oldum.
Sıkılsanız bile vazgeçmemenizi, ısrarla takip etmeye çalışmanızı öneririm. Tüm hikaye, son cümlede tamamlanacak ve anlam kazanacak. Benim gibi çok etkileneceğinizi düşünüyorum.
Yayınevinin basım hataları okumayı biraz güçleştiriyor ama çok değerli bir çeviri olduğunu anlayabiliyoruz.
“…Özgürlük kırılgan bir şeydir. …”, sf; 87.
Yahudi bir ailenin, zorluklarla dolu ‘zaman bükücü’ hikayesini okurken, yazarın; dinler tarihi efsaneleri ve felsefi tartışmalarla, inanılmaz saptamalarına ve eleştirilerine de tanık oluyoruz.
Benim çok da beğenmediğim, farklı bir akış ve anlatım biçimi olmasına rağmen, çok etkilendiğimi söylemek istiyorum.
Neredeyse kitabın ortalarına kadar, okumayı bırakmak veya atlayarak okumak arasında gidip gelen düşüncelerimi, yazara saygım nedeniyle gerçekleştirmemekten dolayı kitabın sonunda son derece mutlu oldum.
Sıkılsanız bile vazgeçmemenizi, ısrarla takip etmeye çalışmanızı öneririm. Tüm hikaye, son cümlede tamamlanacak ve anlam kazanacak. Benim gibi çok etkileneceğinizi düşünüyorum.
Yayınevinin basım hataları okumayı biraz güçleştiriyor ama çok değerli bir çeviri olduğunu anlayabiliyoruz.
“…Özgürlük kırılgan bir şeydir. …”, sf; 87.
May 6, 2016
Nadas' first novel easily ranks among the finest modernist treatments of childhood. The fragmented and elliptical narrative is reminiscent of the first chapter of "The Sound and the Fury", and often equal to that book in power.
The narrator's recalcitrant grandfather, who spends much of the novel weaving elaborate family myths and railing against prevailing communist politics (1950s Hungary), also recalls the eccentric patriarchs in the novels of Bohumil Hrabal and Witold Gombrowicz.
The narrator's recalcitrant grandfather, who spends much of the novel weaving elaborate family myths and railing against prevailing communist politics (1950s Hungary), also recalls the eccentric patriarchs in the novels of Bohumil Hrabal and Witold Gombrowicz.
May 30, 2024
"Sessizliğin vücudundan geldiğini duydum. Ama bütün sessizlik gelemiyordu, vücudundan sürekli sessizlik geliyordu. Ben o sessizliğin içinde burada duruyorum, onun vücudundan, ağzından, elinden gelen sessizliğin içinde."
Macar yazar Peter Nadas ile öykü derlemesi olan "Ölümle Baş Başa" ile tanışıp çok etkilenmiştim, Macar edebiyatıyla ilişkimi derinleştirmek gibi bir derdim olduğu için Bir Aile Romanının Sonu ile yola devam ettim. Yazarın 1977 tarihli ilk romanı bu, bir ilk roman için müthiş katmanlı ve büyük bir metin, şaşkınım. Anlatım tekniği itibariyle ziyadesiyle modernist bir roman ancak içerik itibariyle Yahudi mitlerinden ve halk masallarından çokça beslendiği için ortaya değişik, hibrit bir kitap çıkmış.
1950'lerin Macaristan'ı, savaş ve Nazi işgalinin ardından gelen komünist rejim yılları. Yakın Macar tarihinin en çok iz bırakan zamanındayız yani, bu izi hem edebiyatlarında, hem de kentlerinde görmek mümkün, Budapeşte'yi gezerken bizzat şahit olmuştum buna. Anlatıcımız küçük bir çocuk, Simon. Annesi ölmüş, babası pek çok insan gibi vatana ihanetle suçlanıyor, kaçak, ara ara geceleri gelip sonra yok oluyor. Simon'un dünyayı ve çevresinde olanı biteni anlama çabasına şahitlik ediyoruz. Kendisine bakan dedesini ve babaannesini de yitirdikten sonra belirsiz bir kuruma bırakılan Simon'un geçmişi hatırlayışını, ailesini anılarında yeniden inşa etme çabasını, anımsadığı komşu çocuklarını vs dinliyoruz. Bu hatıralara dedesinin ve babasının anıları, başta bahsettiğim gibi Yahudi mitleri karışıyor. Bir çocuğun hissettiği yabancılık duygusu üzerinden aslında kendi köküyle ilişkisi kopmuş bir toplumun resmini çiziyor Nadas.
Anlatım tekniği itibarıyla takip etmesi zor ama lezzetli bir metin bu. Kendisiyle tanışmama vesile olan öyküleri kadar olmasa da yine de sevdim.
Macar yazar Peter Nadas ile öykü derlemesi olan "Ölümle Baş Başa" ile tanışıp çok etkilenmiştim, Macar edebiyatıyla ilişkimi derinleştirmek gibi bir derdim olduğu için Bir Aile Romanının Sonu ile yola devam ettim. Yazarın 1977 tarihli ilk romanı bu, bir ilk roman için müthiş katmanlı ve büyük bir metin, şaşkınım. Anlatım tekniği itibariyle ziyadesiyle modernist bir roman ancak içerik itibariyle Yahudi mitlerinden ve halk masallarından çokça beslendiği için ortaya değişik, hibrit bir kitap çıkmış.
1950'lerin Macaristan'ı, savaş ve Nazi işgalinin ardından gelen komünist rejim yılları. Yakın Macar tarihinin en çok iz bırakan zamanındayız yani, bu izi hem edebiyatlarında, hem de kentlerinde görmek mümkün, Budapeşte'yi gezerken bizzat şahit olmuştum buna. Anlatıcımız küçük bir çocuk, Simon. Annesi ölmüş, babası pek çok insan gibi vatana ihanetle suçlanıyor, kaçak, ara ara geceleri gelip sonra yok oluyor. Simon'un dünyayı ve çevresinde olanı biteni anlama çabasına şahitlik ediyoruz. Kendisine bakan dedesini ve babaannesini de yitirdikten sonra belirsiz bir kuruma bırakılan Simon'un geçmişi hatırlayışını, ailesini anılarında yeniden inşa etme çabasını, anımsadığı komşu çocuklarını vs dinliyoruz. Bu hatıralara dedesinin ve babasının anıları, başta bahsettiğim gibi Yahudi mitleri karışıyor. Bir çocuğun hissettiği yabancılık duygusu üzerinden aslında kendi köküyle ilişkisi kopmuş bir toplumun resmini çiziyor Nadas.
Anlatım tekniği itibarıyla takip etmesi zor ama lezzetli bir metin bu. Kendisiyle tanışmama vesile olan öyküleri kadar olmasa da yine de sevdim.
November 9, 2016
Çocuk anlatıcının olduğu romanlara düşkünseniz, modern roman teknikleri de ilginizi çekiyorsa gözden kaçırmamanız gereken bir kitap. Tek bir zaman dilimi olmamasına, anlatımın tek yönde akmamasına rağmen dağılmıyorsunuz. Sonu haricinde oldukça başarılı. 3.5/5
March 6, 2014
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 5, 2025
Bloody brilliant.
December 10, 2018
Bu kitabı okurken sıkıntıdan patlıyordum. En zor bitirdiğim kitaplardan biridir. Yani ne anlatıyor nasıl anlatıyor halen tam çözemedim. Peter Nadas kusura bakmasın sanırım benim idrak yollarımda enfeksiyon var zira kitabın ortalaması çok da düşük sayılmaz.
Yine de ufak bir fikir olması açısından biraz kitaptan bahsedelim, birkaç anlatıcıyla, Macaristan'da bir ailenin savaş, yıkım, vatana ihanet hususlarında yaşadığı sorunları biraz düşsel biraz eleştirel olarak ele almış yazar.
Üslubu bana çok ters geldi, aslında konu fena değil fakat okuyucuya yaşananların geçirilmesi hususunda problem yaşadığını düşünüyorum.
Yine de ufak bir fikir olması açısından biraz kitaptan bahsedelim, birkaç anlatıcıyla, Macaristan'da bir ailenin savaş, yıkım, vatana ihanet hususlarında yaşadığı sorunları biraz düşsel biraz eleştirel olarak ele almış yazar.
Üslubu bana çok ters geldi, aslında konu fena değil fakat okuyucuya yaşananların geçirilmesi hususunda problem yaşadığını düşünüyorum.
October 29, 2025
“Não sou eu que vejo as coisas para as quais olho, e é por isso que tudo desaparece, também nunca posso dizer o que vi um momento antes, porque já não o consigo ver. Tenho a certeza de que isso só me acontece a mim, e é por essa razão que devo ser mau.”
Uma narrativa de uma criança que, ficou ao cuidado dos avós, depois de a mãe ter morrido e o pai desaparecido, cria um mundo imaginário que, se confunde com o real, enquanto nos conta brincadeiras com os miúdos vizinhos. A representação deste mundo aos poucos vai dando lugar a circunstâncias terríveis que, urge compreender mas que a criança não tem como o fazer. O avô conta histórias sobre as suas origens e com isso, alimenta a imaginação do neto. Uma história familiar, que percorreu seis círculos no círculo infinito do tempo. Construíram a casa e plantaram a amoreira.
Não esperava um romance tão exigente nas pequenas dimensões e não sei se o consegui apreciar devidamente porque a perda muito solitária desta criança me custou muito e o fim não o minimizou. Antes pelo contrário.
Uma narrativa de uma criança que, ficou ao cuidado dos avós, depois de a mãe ter morrido e o pai desaparecido, cria um mundo imaginário que, se confunde com o real, enquanto nos conta brincadeiras com os miúdos vizinhos. A representação deste mundo aos poucos vai dando lugar a circunstâncias terríveis que, urge compreender mas que a criança não tem como o fazer. O avô conta histórias sobre as suas origens e com isso, alimenta a imaginação do neto. Uma história familiar, que percorreu seis círculos no círculo infinito do tempo. Construíram a casa e plantaram a amoreira.
Não esperava um romance tão exigente nas pequenas dimensões e não sei se o consegui apreciar devidamente porque a perda muito solitária desta criança me custou muito e o fim não o minimizou. Antes pelo contrário.
July 27, 2024
Szkoda, bo tu jest sporo wybitnych stron. Koniecznie trzeba przebrnąć przez pierwszych 50, w chwilę potem zdarza się wielkie czytanie. Ta niezwykła wielowiekowa żydowska epopeja, snuta przez tego mitycznego dziadka bohatera, to wielka literatura. Za raptownie się urywa, strasznie mi zabrakło dalszego ciągu… chociaż, nie takie nam figle życie płata. Nie tylko takie opowieści dramatycznie kończy.
January 23, 2023
The story takes place in Stalinist ruled Hungary in the 1950's. Much of it is told by a young boy who is living with his grandparents. His grandfather is a very talkative character who is constantly telling tales about a variety of things including religion, politics and family history. The grandfather is Jewish and his grandmother is Catholic. There were parts of the book that were quite good but it was very inconsistent and fragmentary. The story wove back and forth in time and became difficult to follow at times. The best parts of the book were when the young boy was the obvious narrator because it captured his innocent outlook on life but there were many sections when there was no obvious narrator which added to the confusion.
January 1, 2016
For fiction there are two roads to translation: the low road from bestseller-dom, and the high road from literary-ness. Knowing nothing of Nádas's sales in Hungarian, my hunch is that this book took the high road.
In my time in Hungary I've seen books on both roads. Hungarians waste much time translating and even reading rubbish like Bridget Jones presumably on the basis that sales in English = sales in Hungarian, even when they have own exemplars of the genre like Állítsátok meg Terézanyut. I have to wonder what Hungarian singletons make of Bridget, femininity is done so much more seriously here.
In the case of Imre Ketész the road his work was on was so high that it was out of sight for most Hungarians, and curiosity more than pride was their reaction to the news that he had won the Noble prize for literature. As a result his work must have become widely available in Hungarian and in English at the same time, as Hungarians bought, struggled with and then abandoned Fatelessness. Abandoned in part, no doubt, because of the one, two, three page long paragraphs.
Which brings me back to this book, ever since Joyce, who adopted Hungarian quotation marks for his own work, pissing about with punctuation has been a sure sign of literary high-roadedness. And this book, being the first person narrative of a growing child, owes a lot to the opening chapters of portrait of the artist as a young man - though the quotation marks are original.
My own thoughts are so staccato and disconnected (indeed writing things out in sentences and paragraphs is the only way I come to understand what I think) it has always eluded me why the absence of punctuation is seen as representative of stream of consciousness. e.e.cummings does a better job, and he often seems to have more punctuation than words. Nádas is Joycean in this respect, though, and we have twenty page slabs of words. Twenty page slabs are just about manageable and thankfully, the sentence punctuation is regular - I wish mine was.
Inside these slabs one can find or at least I found a book in three parts. The first part is the child's point of view on adult goings on involving his father climbing in through windows late at night, and his friends' mother parading about in the nude. Any connection between these events - though it seems possible now - entirely eluded me while I was struggling with the child's perspective and the slabs of words.
The second part was much satisfying, as it was a series of stories told to the child by his dying grandfather about there predecessors. This being a Jewish family it starts in Jerusalem as the time of the first millennium, and the follows the generations around Europe as they are buffeted by pogrom after pogrom eventually finding some security in Budapest in the 16th century. All of these stories are reported to us by the child and garbled and truncated appropriately. The result of all this garbling and truncating is that I wished I was reading Book of the Fathers again, where the same material was covered by a writer at the height of powers and not by a pre-pubescent kid who spends his time trying a get a peek at his friend's mum in the buff.
Now what is interesting I suppose is that the third part of the book, in which the family story is brought to an end, is not set in 1944 - the year the brought the end to so many Jewish Hungarian family stories. In fact how the family got through that year, given that they were of Jewish origin and living the countryside, which was quietly but completely cleansed, is not discussed at all. Instead, it's the 1950's and the father is imprisioned following a show trail, the grandparents die, and the boy is shoved into an orphanage, where he is punished by being made to be silent.
Now I realise that this account is itself garbled and truncated, but really I can't be arsed to go back and sort it all out, especially as I have to struggle through the same point of view and the same lack of paragraphs. Sometimes such literary affects (Absalom Absalom) really help the reader to realise the significance of the story, and sometimes they simply disguise the absence of a significant story.
One of the major problems of reading Hungarian literature in translation is that so much of if travels the high road, and because there is so much English traffic on the low road, Hungarian bestsellers are rarely translated. It not's just that I'm not reading Hungarian, I'm not reading what Hungarians read.
In my time in Hungary I've seen books on both roads. Hungarians waste much time translating and even reading rubbish like Bridget Jones presumably on the basis that sales in English = sales in Hungarian, even when they have own exemplars of the genre like Állítsátok meg Terézanyut. I have to wonder what Hungarian singletons make of Bridget, femininity is done so much more seriously here.
In the case of Imre Ketész the road his work was on was so high that it was out of sight for most Hungarians, and curiosity more than pride was their reaction to the news that he had won the Noble prize for literature. As a result his work must have become widely available in Hungarian and in English at the same time, as Hungarians bought, struggled with and then abandoned Fatelessness. Abandoned in part, no doubt, because of the one, two, three page long paragraphs.
Which brings me back to this book, ever since Joyce, who adopted Hungarian quotation marks for his own work, pissing about with punctuation has been a sure sign of literary high-roadedness. And this book, being the first person narrative of a growing child, owes a lot to the opening chapters of portrait of the artist as a young man - though the quotation marks are original.
My own thoughts are so staccato and disconnected (indeed writing things out in sentences and paragraphs is the only way I come to understand what I think) it has always eluded me why the absence of punctuation is seen as representative of stream of consciousness. e.e.cummings does a better job, and he often seems to have more punctuation than words. Nádas is Joycean in this respect, though, and we have twenty page slabs of words. Twenty page slabs are just about manageable and thankfully, the sentence punctuation is regular - I wish mine was.
Inside these slabs one can find or at least I found a book in three parts. The first part is the child's point of view on adult goings on involving his father climbing in through windows late at night, and his friends' mother parading about in the nude. Any connection between these events - though it seems possible now - entirely eluded me while I was struggling with the child's perspective and the slabs of words.
The second part was much satisfying, as it was a series of stories told to the child by his dying grandfather about there predecessors. This being a Jewish family it starts in Jerusalem as the time of the first millennium, and the follows the generations around Europe as they are buffeted by pogrom after pogrom eventually finding some security in Budapest in the 16th century. All of these stories are reported to us by the child and garbled and truncated appropriately. The result of all this garbling and truncating is that I wished I was reading Book of the Fathers again, where the same material was covered by a writer at the height of powers and not by a pre-pubescent kid who spends his time trying a get a peek at his friend's mum in the buff.
Now what is interesting I suppose is that the third part of the book, in which the family story is brought to an end, is not set in 1944 - the year the brought the end to so many Jewish Hungarian family stories. In fact how the family got through that year, given that they were of Jewish origin and living the countryside, which was quietly but completely cleansed, is not discussed at all. Instead, it's the 1950's and the father is imprisioned following a show trail, the grandparents die, and the boy is shoved into an orphanage, where he is punished by being made to be silent.
Now I realise that this account is itself garbled and truncated, but really I can't be arsed to go back and sort it all out, especially as I have to struggle through the same point of view and the same lack of paragraphs. Sometimes such literary affects (Absalom Absalom) really help the reader to realise the significance of the story, and sometimes they simply disguise the absence of a significant story.
One of the major problems of reading Hungarian literature in translation is that so much of if travels the high road, and because there is so much English traffic on the low road, Hungarian bestsellers are rarely translated. It not's just that I'm not reading Hungarian, I'm not reading what Hungarians read.
October 22, 2016
Tästä kirjasta jäi kovin ristiriitaiset mietteet. En pitänyt kappalejaottomasta, sekavasta tyylistä joka sekoitti totta ja kuvitelmaa. Ainoastaan hetkittäin pääsin kiinni pienen pojan ajatusmaailmaan, jota tällä oli varmasti haettu. Erityisen symbolisten kohtausten kohdalla mietin lähinnä olenko tyhmä kun en oikein ymmärrä mitä on haettu, vai enkö ymmärrä, koska en tiedä riittävästi Unkarin lähihistoriasta. Tämä verotti lukunautintoa kovasti.
Toisaalta itse kirjan aihepiiri, lapsen kokemus diktatuurissa, jossa terrori perustuu siihen että kuka tahansa voi ilmiantaa jonkun toisen, oli todella koskettava. Pidin lisäksi tavasta jossa suppea perhekuvaus oli kudottu osaksi laajempaa suvun historiaa, tässä oli hiukan samaa ajallista spiraalimaisuutta kuin keväällä lukemassani Jukka Laajarinteen Kehyksessä. Kaksi tähteä jää kokonaisuudeksi. Taidan käyttää tämän helmet-haasteen kielletyksi kirjaksi, kun kansitekstissä mainitaan tämän juuttuneen aikanaan sensuuriin.
Toisaalta itse kirjan aihepiiri, lapsen kokemus diktatuurissa, jossa terrori perustuu siihen että kuka tahansa voi ilmiantaa jonkun toisen, oli todella koskettava. Pidin lisäksi tavasta jossa suppea perhekuvaus oli kudottu osaksi laajempaa suvun historiaa, tässä oli hiukan samaa ajallista spiraalimaisuutta kuin keväällä lukemassani Jukka Laajarinteen Kehyksessä. Kaksi tähteä jää kokonaisuudeksi. Taidan käyttää tämän helmet-haasteen kielletyksi kirjaksi, kun kansitekstissä mainitaan tämän juuttuneen aikanaan sensuuriin.
May 3, 2020
Corona döneminde başlamıştım okumaya. Lakin hem kitabın karanlık hali hem benim (bizim) içinde bulunduğumuz korku ve belirsizlik durumu kitabı oldukça uzun aralıklarla okumama sebep oldu. Konusu, tahkiyesi oldukça etkileyici ancak metaforlarını anlaması oldukça güç.
April 19, 2015
Çocuk anlatıcılar en sevdiğim, en güvendiğim anlatıcılardır. Peter Simon'u unutmayacağım.
February 11, 2025
Jag läste nyligen Mare Kandres "Aliide, Aliide", en väldigt speciell (och något krävande) skildring av världen från ett barns perspektiv. Nádas debutroman kvalar in i samma kategori, även om han gör det på ett helt annat sätt.
Barnet heter här Péter Simon och bor hos sina farföräldrar. Modern finns inte med i bilden och fadern dyker bara upp korta stunder för att därefter försvinna tillbaka till ett arbete inom det militära. Péter leker med grannbarnen, upplever trädgården, husens skrymslen och vrår, tar hand om hunden.
I berättandet är det dock som att tiden som vi känner den inte existerar, eller att flera olika tidsplan är sammanvävda. Allt runt pojken kommer med tiden att försvinna - farföräldrarna och hunden dör, grannarna flyttar, faderns fängslas - och genom boken kan detta ömsom ha skett, ömsom ligga i framtiden. Kasten är inte sällan tvär, samma händelse ofta återupprepad.
Vad som däremot berättas mer eller mindre kronologiskt är farfaderns återberättade av familjens judiska släkthistoria som liksom titeln antyder rör sig mot ett slut. Det har dock inget med Förintelsen att göra utan helt andra saker: farfaderns giftermål med en katolik och de politiska processer som drabbar familjen bland annat.
Det är en berättelse som det inte är helt enkelt att få grepp om, dels på grund av hur den är berättad och dels på grund av okunskap om Ungerns moderna historia. Jag såg någon recensent kommentera att det först var vid en andra läsning som många bitar föll på plats vilket jag verkligen kan tänka mig, även om lite av spänningen också måste gå förlorad då. Om det blir av för egen del återstår att se, men tills dess hamnar den i facket "fascinerande men kanske inte fullt så gripande läsning".
Barnet heter här Péter Simon och bor hos sina farföräldrar. Modern finns inte med i bilden och fadern dyker bara upp korta stunder för att därefter försvinna tillbaka till ett arbete inom det militära. Péter leker med grannbarnen, upplever trädgården, husens skrymslen och vrår, tar hand om hunden.
I berättandet är det dock som att tiden som vi känner den inte existerar, eller att flera olika tidsplan är sammanvävda. Allt runt pojken kommer med tiden att försvinna - farföräldrarna och hunden dör, grannarna flyttar, faderns fängslas - och genom boken kan detta ömsom ha skett, ömsom ligga i framtiden. Kasten är inte sällan tvär, samma händelse ofta återupprepad.
Vad som däremot berättas mer eller mindre kronologiskt är farfaderns återberättade av familjens judiska släkthistoria som liksom titeln antyder rör sig mot ett slut. Det har dock inget med Förintelsen att göra utan helt andra saker: farfaderns giftermål med en katolik och de politiska processer som drabbar familjen bland annat.
Det är en berättelse som det inte är helt enkelt att få grepp om, dels på grund av hur den är berättad och dels på grund av okunskap om Ungerns moderna historia. Jag såg någon recensent kommentera att det först var vid en andra läsning som många bitar föll på plats vilket jag verkligen kan tänka mig, även om lite av spänningen också måste gå förlorad då. Om det blir av för egen del återstår att se, men tills dess hamnar den i facket "fascinerande men kanske inte fullt så gripande läsning".
Read
October 30, 2025Tästä oli taas lukunautinto kaukana. Unkari vaikuttaa olevan uudenaikaisen neropattikirjallisuuden suurvalta. Péter Nádasin ikävystymisfestivaali Erään sukuromaanin loppu on juuri niin kammottavaa 60- ja 70-lukujen taitteen eurooppalaista taideproosaa kuin vain pelätä saattaa. Elokuvissa tällainen löi aikoinaan lujaa läpi, eikä suinkaan täysin ilman ansioita, mutta romaanimuodossa kokemus on paljon kivuliaampi.
Erään sukuromaanin loppu rämpii aina Jeesuksen ristiinnaulitsemisesta lähtien halki Euroopan ja läpi vuosisatojen sukupolvien jatkumona. Verellä on perintönsä, mutta fallossymboleita ei koskaan voi olla liikaa eikä kerronta mitenkään liian sekavaa. Minulle henkilökohtaisesti on aivan sama, onko teos voimakas, kiehtova ja syvälleluotaava, jos haluan vain paiskata sen seinään. Yksi James Joyce riittää vallan hyvin.
Erään sukuromaanin loppu rämpii aina Jeesuksen ristiinnaulitsemisesta lähtien halki Euroopan ja läpi vuosisatojen sukupolvien jatkumona. Verellä on perintönsä, mutta fallossymboleita ei koskaan voi olla liikaa eikä kerronta mitenkään liian sekavaa. Minulle henkilökohtaisesti on aivan sama, onko teos voimakas, kiehtova ja syvälleluotaava, jos haluan vain paiskata sen seinään. Yksi James Joyce riittää vallan hyvin.
Read
December 17, 2016Sort of a preliminary sketch for A Book of Memories. Still, worth reading in its own right.
November 30, 2015
başka bir kullanıcının yorumladığı benim için de geçerli, bu kitabı biraz daha gençken okusaydım sanırım daha çok sevebilirdim. ama bu yaşımda (32) okuduğumda takip, özdeşleşme, gizemi çözmeye istek sebebiyle pek kendimi veremedim. kitabın 1977 yılında yazılmış olmasına şaşırdım, çünkü post-modern denilen bütün teknikler kullanılmış : zaman atlaması, anlatıcı değişmesi, gerçeklikten kopuş, okumayı güçleştiren noktalama işaretleri vs vs. kitaptan zevk alabilmek için parça parça okunmaması gerek sanırım, ayrıca yahudi ve macaristan tarihi hakkında da fikir sahibi olunmalı gibi.
bunun dışında çok fazla yazım yanlışı yapılmıştı, arka sayfada çevirmen Gün Benderli'nin çevirisi için çarpıcı denmiş, ancak editörlük için aynı şey söylenemez.
bunun dışında çok fazla yazım yanlışı yapılmıştı, arka sayfada çevirmen Gün Benderli'nin çevirisi için çarpıcı denmiş, ancak editörlük için aynı şey söylenemez.
January 1, 2015
A dazzling construction and deconstruction of time and narrative.
Well worth the attempts to distill meaning from the sporadic, snapshot-like episodes related by the unreliable narrator and to navigate through the linear and cyclic temporal frames.
A descent into a half-mad, fairy-tale world interspersed with biblical allegories and political undertones.
During the class discussion I half-joked about applying an agnostic reading to the whole, because ultimately the discussion boiled down to an exchange of educated guesses, but the professor agreed with me.
Well worth the attempts to distill meaning from the sporadic, snapshot-like episodes related by the unreliable narrator and to navigate through the linear and cyclic temporal frames.
A descent into a half-mad, fairy-tale world interspersed with biblical allegories and political undertones.
During the class discussion I half-joked about applying an agnostic reading to the whole, because ultimately the discussion boiled down to an exchange of educated guesses, but the professor agreed with me.
January 6, 2025
I did not enjoy this book. Not even a little. It is artfully written, there is a message to it for sure, but it wasn't a good read. I wasn't interested or invested in the historical chapters, and the events of the main character's life were described - from a child's perspective - in a way that led to an anticlimax, since none of the characters had much personality or backstory due to the narrator's age, and lack of understanding of the world around him.
January 14, 2016
One of the oddest books I have ever read.
I am quite sure this is a good, deeply honest book. However, it was an ordeal reading through it. Some years ago it just might have made an impression on me. Now I am older and impatient with tricks that get in the way of the book inside the book.
I am quite sure this is a good, deeply honest book. However, it was an ordeal reading through it. Some years ago it just might have made an impression on me. Now I am older and impatient with tricks that get in the way of the book inside the book.
September 4, 2018
De afgelopen 4 dagen heb ik het debuut van Peter Nadas van begin tot eind uitgelezen, tig keer teruggebladerd en hele hoofdstukken opnieuw gelezen. Ik ben diep geroerd. Voor wie Het boek der Herinneringen net als mij vol bewondering heeft verslonden: dit is jouw boek.
Maar eerst een woord van waarschuwing: het is nog ontoegankelijker en vereist nog meer concentratie en investering ondanks het beperkte aantal bladzijden. Het verhaal wordt deze keer namelijk volledig vertelt vanuit het perspectief van een kind. De zinnen zijn daardoor weliswaar kort en simpel, maar elk hoofdstuk kent slechts 1 paragraaf en de gedachtes van Peter lopen kris kras door elkaar. Zo is het vooral in het begin soms echt niet te begrijpen waar hij naar verwijst en wat hij bedoeld. Maar naarmate het verhaal zichzelf ontvouwt, begeleid door lange wel lineair lopende stukken over een bijna mythische geschiedenis, vallen veel van die ongestructureerde zinnen op hun plek, zelfs degene die gefantaseerd zijn. Al deze herinneringen en fantasieën, al dat niets ogende gebrabbel van het kind, zijn associaties met gebeurtenissen die traumatisch voor Peter zijn geweest. En daar krijg ik het heel erg warm en benauwd tegelijk van. Een emotioneel verhaal vertelt op een uitzonderlijke manier die doet denken aan het eerste hoofdstuk van Het Geluid en de Drift van William Faulkner, vertelt vanuit het perspectief van een autistische volwassene. Door het hele boek zijn aanwijzingen verstopt over het begin, het midden en het einde van het verhaal, en zo krijgt elke zin betekenis en vormt het een uitzonderlijk rond geheel. Als het zeer omvangrijke Parallel Stories ooit in het Nederlands wordt vertaald, zou Peter Nadas best eens mijn favoriete schrijver kunnen worden.
Het boek begint zo:
"Tussen seringen en hazelaren, aan de voet van een vlier. Niet ver van de boom met het blad dat zelfs bij windstilte af en toe bewoog. Ons gezin bestond uit drie personen: de vader, de moeder en het kind. Ik was de vader en Eva de moeder. In de struik was het altijd avond. 'Altijd maar slapen! Waarom moet ik altijd slapen?' De moeder had het kind al naar bed gebracht. 'Pappa, je moet nu een verhaaltje vertellen aan het kind.' Ze sloeg met haar hand op de pannen, want ze was aan het afwassen in de keuken. Ik zat achter het bureau en deed alsof ik het boek van Nina Potapowa bestudeerde, maar toen ze dit zei, stond ik op en ging ik naar de slaapkamer. We hadden de kinderkamer met hooi bekleed, zodat hij lekker zacht was. Ik ging op de rand van het bed zitten en legde het hoofdje van het kind in mijn schoot. Met mijn vingers kon in door zijn natte hare woelen. Ik knuffelde het kind en het was alsof mijn moeder mij knuffelde. Ik kon met mijn handpalm over zijn vochtige voorhoofd strijken en wist niet eens of ik mijn handpalm voelde of zijn voorhoofd. Over zijn hals liep een dikke ader. Als ik die doorsneed, zou het bloed eruit spuiten. In de keuken rammelde ze nog steeds op de pannen..."
Maar eerst een woord van waarschuwing: het is nog ontoegankelijker en vereist nog meer concentratie en investering ondanks het beperkte aantal bladzijden. Het verhaal wordt deze keer namelijk volledig vertelt vanuit het perspectief van een kind. De zinnen zijn daardoor weliswaar kort en simpel, maar elk hoofdstuk kent slechts 1 paragraaf en de gedachtes van Peter lopen kris kras door elkaar. Zo is het vooral in het begin soms echt niet te begrijpen waar hij naar verwijst en wat hij bedoeld. Maar naarmate het verhaal zichzelf ontvouwt, begeleid door lange wel lineair lopende stukken over een bijna mythische geschiedenis, vallen veel van die ongestructureerde zinnen op hun plek, zelfs degene die gefantaseerd zijn. Al deze herinneringen en fantasieën, al dat niets ogende gebrabbel van het kind, zijn associaties met gebeurtenissen die traumatisch voor Peter zijn geweest. En daar krijg ik het heel erg warm en benauwd tegelijk van. Een emotioneel verhaal vertelt op een uitzonderlijke manier die doet denken aan het eerste hoofdstuk van Het Geluid en de Drift van William Faulkner, vertelt vanuit het perspectief van een autistische volwassene. Door het hele boek zijn aanwijzingen verstopt over het begin, het midden en het einde van het verhaal, en zo krijgt elke zin betekenis en vormt het een uitzonderlijk rond geheel. Als het zeer omvangrijke Parallel Stories ooit in het Nederlands wordt vertaald, zou Peter Nadas best eens mijn favoriete schrijver kunnen worden.
Het boek begint zo:
"Tussen seringen en hazelaren, aan de voet van een vlier. Niet ver van de boom met het blad dat zelfs bij windstilte af en toe bewoog. Ons gezin bestond uit drie personen: de vader, de moeder en het kind. Ik was de vader en Eva de moeder. In de struik was het altijd avond. 'Altijd maar slapen! Waarom moet ik altijd slapen?' De moeder had het kind al naar bed gebracht. 'Pappa, je moet nu een verhaaltje vertellen aan het kind.' Ze sloeg met haar hand op de pannen, want ze was aan het afwassen in de keuken. Ik zat achter het bureau en deed alsof ik het boek van Nina Potapowa bestudeerde, maar toen ze dit zei, stond ik op en ging ik naar de slaapkamer. We hadden de kinderkamer met hooi bekleed, zodat hij lekker zacht was. Ik ging op de rand van het bed zitten en legde het hoofdje van het kind in mijn schoot. Met mijn vingers kon in door zijn natte hare woelen. Ik knuffelde het kind en het was alsof mijn moeder mij knuffelde. Ik kon met mijn handpalm over zijn vochtige voorhoofd strijken en wist niet eens of ik mijn handpalm voelde of zijn voorhoofd. Over zijn hals liep een dikke ader. Als ik die doorsneed, zou het bloed eruit spuiten. In de keuken rammelde ze nog steeds op de pannen..."
September 15, 2019
"Orgonák és mogyoróbokrok között, egy bodza tövében." Ilyen volt és nem is akartam elszabadulni onnan. Olvastam és lapoztam és belefeledkeztem… Úgy ahogy a mesélő, gyermeki hangon, de korántsem gyermekként csak mondani és mondani akarja, kibeszélni, újrajátszani, megörökíteni és véglegesen, egy nemmel befejezni a család regényét. "Azért mondom, hogy emlékezzetek.Hát ne csodálkozz." Sejtettem, de nem tudtam mit fogok kapni, mit fog hozzám tenni Simon Péter története. De hagytam, bármi is legyen az, és szinte kerestem a néhol összefüggő, néhol apró gondolatsorokra szétváló jelképeket, mesés elemeket a sorok között. Az első néhány oldal után, már látni véltem, az apa (Ábrahám) és a fiú (Izsák) örökre szóló áldozat szimbólumát. A regényen végig éreztem ezt a meg nem történt, de mégis mindent átható lehetőséget. De volt több olyan szimbólum is, ami segített a megértésében. A kígyó, aki az emberben ( Kleopátrában) fiadzik meg, a titkos ajtók, a láda, a valóság elöl való menekülést, elbújást, a gyermeki félelmet ábrázolta. Simon Péter, aki valahol, mélyen, egyedül van, teremt magaköré egy mozgó-nyüzsgő-zajló világot. A mesék, a nagypapa szavai, az élő-létező világ adják a biztonságot. Otthonszaga, meseillata van. A felnőtt világ mocskos, idegen, bizonytalan, csak néha surran át a szobán, a látni vélt anya (?), meztelenül, talán szabadon, de megfoghatatlanul. Az apa, aki a megtisztulás vizét az otthonban, a vissza(el)fogadásban keresi. A valós világ elmúlik, azt a halál közelsége, a múlt árnya, sötéttel lepi be. Mint a ruhát a festékkel színezett víz. Az élettel teli világ, a lélegzetvételben mért idő, az át-túl lépés a mesék, a vágyak birodalmába. "…ha olyan lennék mint a nagypapa." Mert a nagypapa az életről szeretett mesélni, az ősidőkről, a gyökerekről. És a nevetésről. "Mit nevetsz? Tudod egyáltalán, mit csinálsz, amikor nevetsz? Tudod mi az? Nem tudom. Na, látod! A nevetés az élet legnagyobb titka közé tartozik." Szederfa – emlékek. "Ne nézz! Csak halld, amit mondandó leszek. Arcom ne zavarja látásodat." És rábízza a fiúra az emlékek helyét. "Fölébredtem és tudtam, a saját életemben hol vagyok." Csak kaput nyit nekik. Kaput azért, hogy a mese, a család, a regény utolsó szava a nem lehessen. Nem mindarra, amit eddig kellett átélni, nem mindarra, amin(t) nem lehet mégsem túllépni(élni).
Gyönyörű volt, gyönyörű!
"Ne félj. Jó? Ne félj soha semmitől. Jó? Soha! Semmitől!"
Gyönyörű volt, gyönyörű!
"Ne félj. Jó? Ne félj soha semmitől. Jó? Soha! Semmitől!"
October 15, 2018
A story about a family falling apart, told from the perspective of a young child. The interweaving of the tales told to the child with the real-world events happening around him made for occasionally jarring reading, but having read (and greatly enjoyed) other works by this author, I was expecting this kind of thing; indeed I was glad to see Nádas challenging narrative convention and being wild in this, his first novel, as opposed to playing it safe. That might just be my favorite thing about Nádas: say what you will about the man and his books, but one thing he never does is play it safe. He’s always taking the reader into unexpected places, showing us things we might think are best left unseen, playing dangerous games with language and narrative, and I deeply admire him for his daring.
Despite some minor and forgivable flaws, The End of a Family Story is definitely worth a read. I prefer his later work, but this is a minor masterpiece in its own right, and an impressive debut novel, so it gets four stars and a strong recommendation from me. Read it.
Despite some minor and forgivable flaws, The End of a Family Story is definitely worth a read. I prefer his later work, but this is a minor masterpiece in its own right, and an impressive debut novel, so it gets four stars and a strong recommendation from me. Read it.
November 4, 2019
I struggled with what to rate this book. I bought it from a bookstore in Budapest, and is the first I’ve read by this author (bought because it was a Hungarian author I had not read before, and was before his acclaimed “A book of memories” plus easy to carry on the train). The reading of this piece of literary fiction was not easy, and took some effort with the shifts back in forth in time and perspective. Not an easy to follow narrative, and lots of questions unanswered, as I believe was meant to be. So glad I read it, on quality alone would rate higher.
July 23, 2023
Świat połowy minionego wieku widziany oczami dziewięcioletniego Piotra. Babcia, dziadek, ojciec, dzieci z podwórka. Gęsta i rwąca narracja. Trochę się gubiłam, ale było mi z tym dobrze, no chyba, że ten wątek historii rodziny, nic mnie tam nie wciągnęło. Miejscami cudowne opisy i dialogi, miejscami nie wiedziałam o czym czytam i dlaczego nie o tym, co było w poprzednim zdaniu. Wyobraźnia kilkuletniego człowieka przeplata się ze światem dorosłych. Pięknie pokazane, jak dziecko postrzega rzeczywistość. Uwielbiam historie, w których głos zabierają niedorośli.
May 17, 2022
Така невелика за формою книга, але читалась довше ніж зазвичай. Така собі «закрита фісташка».
«Кінець сімейного роману» — це щось, що межує між глибокими переживаннями підлітка і історіями його найближчого сімейного оточення та сплутаними думками та наслідками самого Петера на все описане.
Після прочитання потрібно зрозуміти різницю між сном та реальною неструктурованою історією, написаною 30-літнім автором.
«Кінець сімейного роману» — це щось, що межує між глибокими переживаннями підлітка і історіями його найближчого сімейного оточення та сплутаними думками та наслідками самого Петера на все описане.
Після прочитання потрібно зрозуміти різницю між сном та реальною неструктурованою історією, написаною 30-літнім автором.
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