Nepalul, o țară strivită între India și China și amenințată de progresul care, mai devreme sau mai tîrziu, va ajunge și acolo. Pelerinajul în jurul muntelui Kailash, considerat un pisc sacru. Leopardul de zăpadă a lui Matthiessen, scriitorul pornit spre Himalaya cu speranța de a întîlni felina zăpezilor. Toate acestea se află la rădăcina cărții Fără să ajungi vreodată în vîrf de Paolo Cognetti. Este povestea ilustrată, caldă, detaliată a călătoriei pe care autorul a întreprins-o cînd se apropia de vîrsta de 40 de ani, împreună cu prietenii lui. Cititorul are astfel șansa de a retrăi nopțile nesfîrșite în cort cu Nicola, absoluta măreție a muntelui contemplat cu Remigio, urcușul și coborîșul la mare altitudine, diversitatea locurilor și a persoanelor întîlnite.
Certainly not a highpoint for the writer. A very short, impressionistic book on a kind of midlife crisis journey to the Himalayas. The narrator is rather insufferable …and we, unlike the pilgrims, respected the ban on fire
Cognetti weaves together a trip to Nepal with an earlier tale of a trip to the mountains from another writer. The nature descriptions are sparse, the people whom he travels with are hardly sketched and little insight into Nepal is glimpsed from the book overal. The clear influence of China and its economic development was one of the scarce interesting things to note in that respect.
The overly serious, masculine way of conveying the story was in my view really grating. The author, while making part of a convoy of 22 people, mostly Nepalese and Tibetans to support their excursion, for instance says: Exploratory expeditions like ours Or on drinking some kind of alcohol: Only one of us was brave enough to taste the drink, me.
Also the suggestion that the Nepalese pelgrims infringe on the ban to build a fire along the slopes of the Crystal Mountain, feels very out of touch, given they most likely won’t be traveling in comfort, with high tech tents and all the amenities of the Westerners, who whatever they may feel about themselves, are the tourists here. The main character getting a woman he stays with to say that Western visitors are basically a blessing, felt very wrong as well. A book that I am highly unsure of for whom it is meant, showcasing a navel staring quality.
Paolo Cognetti followed in Peter Matthiessen’s footsteps 40 years after he wrote The Snow Leopard. He treks through Dolpo, a plateau in northwestern Nepal, which rises in places to over 5,000m.
I really enjoyed reading this short book. It’s a thoughtful account of a journey that is now on the tourist trail but he refers back to Matthiessen’s experiences often enough that we quickly realise that not all that much has changed, other than tourist footfall perhaps. His trekking party comprises 47 men and beasts but he manages to wander off on his own, or with his friends, on occasion. The illustrations are simple sketches on the whole but I liked them and they added to the reading experience. His accounts of suffering from altitude sickness are the best I’ve read and I really felt for him on the high passes. I haven’t read The Snow Leopard but I will now. Cognetti could have riddled the book with quotes but he doesn’t. He gives just enough to entice us and to illustrate his own experiences on the journey.
There was something miraculous about raising my eyes from his diary and finding one by one the things described by him. Forty years .... had passed in the blink of an eye. No discoveries and inventions, no wars, revolutions, youth movements, no collapses of empires and ideologies, no music and literature: nothing that had happened in the course of my life had left a mark there.
With thanks to NetGalley and Random House UK, Vintage for a review copy.
Un taccuino di viaggio illustrato, molto dettagliato, di un percorso verso l'Himalaya, che diventa l'occasione per riflettere su temi più ampi: la montagna, il viaggio, le amicizie, la vita.
Un racconto molto semplice, a tratti fin troppo didascalico, dove la salita verso la cima è metafora della riscoperta di sé.
Un'opera forse più poetica che non di prosa, dove il testo si intreccia in modo indissolubile con le riflessioni esistenziali senza voler mai dare risposte, Senza mai arrivare in cima appunto.
Er zit geen natuur in dit boek. Alleen maar gedachten en waarnemingen over mensen en dieren. Er zit geen 'gewoon zijn' in dit boek.
Met dit én De buitenjongen zo'n teleurstelling, ga ik écht De acht bergen herlezen als ik mijn boeken heb uitgepakt. Herinner ik het me nog wel goed, is het inderdaad zo'n mooi en rustig boek? Op basis van de boeken die Cognetti ervoor en erna heeft geschreven kan ik het me namelijk haast niet voorstellen, en dat vind ik raar.
Helaas maakt de titel zich dus waar met dit boek :)
Cognetti immediately sets his book up for a comparison that can only work against him. In 1973 the American writer Peter Matthiessen hiked into the Himalayas with a friend, keeping a diary of his journey that has become a classic: The Snow Leopard. That book, in a way similar to Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values, captured the best of the 70s zeitgeist. Both are original odysseys and retain their enchantment. But you see the problem: Cognetti is determined to follow Matthiessen’s path, and quotes The Snow Leopard throughout to echo his own wandering thoughts. With each citation I felt: what a fine book that was! and simultaneously, what a silly book is this.
It doesn’t help that Cognetti trots out all the faux-Buddhist cliches, the comical koans that seem to occur at every turn to those privileged enough to tour the Himalayas with sherpas and strong cups of Tibetan butter tea to warm them. An example:
Who has seen Mount Kailash from the untouched summit of the Crystal Mountain? Look for the answer in these ups and downs: because you will lose everything you thought you had gained; learn that the path is much more precious than the summit. Find a meaning in every step. Within this concentration.
Cognetti sounds like a charming guy but the book is all about him – and the charm thins out like the oxygen on a Himalayan pass. Matthiessen was a complicated character, trailed by tragedy. Cognetti is a buddy with a great beard and love for climbing but not much curiosity. Several times he observes the Nepalese around him, but they remain stock figures. Instead we return again and again to his happy thoughts, which tend to discover mystic signs cropping up everywhere, a rock, a hare, a serac…
The summit of absurdity is reached when a little dog joins the travelers, and Cognetti decides she must be the reincarnated Matthiessen. Run, Peter, run!
In this exquisitely written journal-turned-journey of self-discovery, bestselling author and inimitable Paolo Cognetti examines our universal desire for connection through a voyage in the Himalayas. Why climb a mountain without ever reaching the summit? In 2017, Paolo Cognetti returned to Nepal, not to conquer the mountains but to journey through the high valleys of the Dolpo with a copy of Peter Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard in hand. Drawing on memories of his childhood in the Alps, Cognetti explored the roots of life in the mountains, truly getting to know the communities and the nature that forged this resilient, almost mythical region.
Accompanying him was Remigio, a childhood friend who had never left the mountains of Italy, and Nicola, a painter he had recently met. Joined by a stalwart team of local sherpas, the trio started out in the remote Dolpo region of Nepal. From there, a journey of self-discovery shaped by illness, human connection, and empathy was born. This is a introspective and stunning read, with such rich and beautiful descriptions of the natural landscape as he treks. It is an engaging, captivating and perfect homage to Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard, and the line illustrations top the whole thing off nicely. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Harvill Secker for an ARC.
Incipit: Sul finire del 2017, e del mio quarantesimo anno di vita, partii con alcuni compagni per la terra di Dolpo, un altipiano nel nord-ovest del Nepal dove avremmo superato passi oltre i cinquemila metri, viaggiando a piedi per circa un mese lungo il confine tibetano. Il Tibet era una meta che non si poteva raggiungere, e non per questioni di frontiera: invaso dall’esercito cinese nel 1950, devastato tra gli anni Sessanta e Settanta dalla furia della Rivoluzione culturale, e infine inesorabilmente colonizzato dalla nuova Cina capitalista, quell’antico regno di monaci, mercanti e pastori nomadi semplicemente non esisteva piú.
La prima sensazione è stata andarmi a rileggere l’incipit di Nelle foreste siberiane di Sylvain Tesson:
Mi ero ripromesso che prima dei quarant’anni avrei vissuto da eremita nei boschi. Sono andato a stare per sei mesi in una capanna siberiana, sulla sponda del lago Bajkal, all'estrema punta del capo dei Cedri del Nord. Il primo villaggio e a centoventi chilometri di distanza, non ci sono vicini, nessuna strada di accesso. Di tanto in tanto una visita. D’inverno temperature di meno trenta gradi, d’estate gli orsi in riva al lago. Insomma, un paradiso.
In entrambi i casi ci sono i 40 anni come ideale linea di confine, la fuga dal mondo occidentale, il viaggio e la fatica per scoprire qualcosa di più di noi stessi.
Quello di Cognetti però è un resoconto iper-condensato senza particolari picchi. Resta la sua passione per la montagna unita ad una scrittura come sempre evocativa. Ma è palesemente un’opera di transizione, per riempire uno spazio, tirata via.
Autorul pleacă pe urmele lui Peter Matthiesen care își descrie experiența himalaiană în “Leopardul de zăpadă”.
“Creștinii înfig cruci în vârful munților, budiștii trasează cercuri la poalele lor. Găseam violență în primul gest, delicatețe în al doilea: o dorință de cucerire față de una de cunoaștere.”
Ok, le Otto Montagne è più bello. E ok, fa un po' il verso a Terzani, certi passaggi sono un po' superficiali, certi un po' troppo tirati là. Ma da genovese vorrei uno scrittore che sapesse raccontare il mare come Cognetti racconta le montagne, svelandone quei significati che intuiamo senza decifrare e restituendoceli in una dimensione se non proprio vicina, certamente non estranea. Cognetti racconta tutto questo da montanaro e non da scalatore, da uomo che ha scoperto che il senso delle cose non è nella vetta, ma nel sentiero che vi ci conduce- e questo piccolo libro è una costante dichiarazione di intenti, a cominciare dal titolo. Per me, è da leggere.
Meteen na de publicatie van de Acht Bergen was ik fan van Cognetti. Ik hoopte erg dat Zonder de top te bereiken de nieuwe Acht Bergen zou zijn, helaas kwam ik bedrogen uit. Het was simpelweg niet te volgen en de prachtige natuurbeschrijvingen ontbraken. Maar houd de moed erin, hopelijk piekt Cognetti nog een keer!😉
Mám slabosť pre tohto autora, mám slabosť pre hory, pre knihy, ktoré o prírode píšu spôsobom, ako táto. Akosi to však nestačilo.
"Hľadaj odpoveď v stúpaní a klesaní, pretože stratíš všetko, o čom si budeš myslieť, že si to získal, nauč sa, že oveľa vzácnejší ako vrchol je chodník. Nájdi zmysel v každom kroku. V hĺbke sústredenia."
Part pilgrimage and part 40th birthday treat, Cognetti’s October 2017 Himalayan trek through Dolpo (a Nepalese plateau at the Tibetan border) would also somewhat recreate Peter Matthiessen’s The Snow Leopard. Cognetti struggles with altitude sickness and the fare: “I tried salted yak butter tea for the first time—nauseating if you thought you were drinking tea, good and refreshing if you thought you were drinking broth.” He and his companions fancifully decide that Kanjiroba, the lovable stray dog who joins their party, is a reincarnation of Matthiessen. I have limited tolerance for travel books’ episodic combinations of nature descriptions, anthropological observations, and the rigours of the nomadic lifestyle. The same was true here, but the slight spiritual aspect and references to The Snow Leopard lifted it.
Sapevo che in montagna si cammina da soli anche quando si cammina con qualcuno, ma ero contento di dividere la mia solitudine con questi compagni.
Una bella esperienza riportata su un taccuino di viaggio, arricchito da simpatici disegni, sulle orme di un libro letto e riletto (“Il leopardo delle nevi” di Peter Matthiessen, 1978), che l’autore ha voluto condividere con i suoi lettori. Mi ci trovavo bene, dentro quel libro, che ne sentii subito la mancanza. Non avevo nessuno a cui comunicare quel sentimento, il tipo di tristezza che solo i lettori conoscono, la nostalgia dei libri finiti.
Molta umanità, tanti sorrisi timidi, poche parole e tante riflessioni; molto intimo e forse per questo un po’ distante, poco coinvolgente. Bello, nulla da dire, soprattutto per le descrizioni delle zone attraversate e per la caratterizzazione di alcuni compagni di viaggio, i più umili, i meno probabili.
Wat Cognetti met de bergen heeft, heb ik met water: zeeën en rivieren. Ik kan uren op een rots aan de Atlantische oceaan zitten of aan een rivier of kabbelend beekje. In de bergen voel ik me te ingesloten. Ik ben dan ook in het Groninger land geboren en getogen. Het is voor mij al heel wat dat ik nu in het heuvellandschap van Ierland woon.
Dit boek is een reisverslag van een tocht door een afgelegen gebied in de Himalaya maar tevens een tocht naar binnen van de hoofdpersoon, die blijkbaar de behoefte had om de tweede helft van zijn leven (hij is nu in zijn veertigste levensjaar) op de resetknop te drukken en zich in een landschap te begeven waar de moderne wereld nog niet veel vat op heeft gekregen en waar het leven al honderden, zo niet duizenden jaren een eigen tempo heeft dat door het landschap wordt opgelegd. Gewend aan de bergen in Italië valt hem wel één ding op aan de mensen in de Himalaya. Ze lachen veel. Iets dat bij de achterdochtige westerse bergbewoners niet meer veel voor schijnt te komen.
Een mooi, rustgevend boek in deze angstige coronavirustijden.
Every so often I enjoy reading a travel book, one of those personal accounts of someone's trip to far away places I'll never see. This is one of those books. It's a man's journey through some wild and often empty stretches of wilderness with just mountains, lakes, river and sky plus various trees. To make it even more interesting, the author's body doesn't deal well with high altitude. He gets sick...yet he decided to go on this journey anyway. This takes place in Nepal, in the Himalayas.
Did you ever hear of The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen (published in 1978) - I actually recall reading that book some years ago, maybe back around 2000 or so. The author follows the path that Matthiessen had taken and mentions the things that have changed. Technology is even encroaching on the wilderness... I find that astonishing, that such things could be out there. He quotes lines from The Snow Leopard throughout the book. And if you never read The Snow Leopard I encourage you to read it.
This book also had several lovely drawings in it. They are simple but yet really capture the locations. It's quite amazing really! In some ways it's these drawings that encouraged me to pick up this book and to read it.
The book explains the way of life of the people who live up in the mountains. Their daily chores are described: drying hay, thrashing of wheat, lamps that burn butter, butter tea, herding sheep, etc. It sounds like a more simple time period doesn't it? Yet in one town they had motorcycles!
And before I even realized it, his journey across the mountains were over! And I was left feeling somewhat confused, wondering "what happened to the mountain?" And then I of course realized that not all mountains are like the famous Everest where you need climbing gear and ropes. Some mountains are actually trails you can hike over. I've never seen a real mountain so I often forget this fact.
His description of the reactions to the altitude were scary! And something I could relate to (even though I've never been anywhere near that high). My gluten issues can cause limbs to go numb too.
I think the best thing about this book is the friends he made along the way, both human and animal alike...strangers who welcomed him into their homes to serve hot tea. There's caring, warm people all over the world.
Il racconto di un viaggio sull'Himalaya, non per raggiungere la vetta ma per vedere le valli, per conoscere le usanze e per conoscere se stessi. Da questo libricino si capisce l'opinione e il gusto di Cognetti sulla montagna: lui adora la valle, il bosco e non è ossessionato dall'ascesa, dall'arrivare in cima. Questo è anche il mio pensiero. A parte che non avrei le competenze per arrivare in vetta, in ogni modo mi piace guardarmi attorno ascoltare il bosco e gli animali, guardarne i colori, camminare sul sentiero, salutare le persone che si incontrano anche se sono perfetti sconosciuti. Per me la montagna è questo.
Heerlijk om dit boek te lezen nadat je zelf een staptocht, weliswaar van minder zwaar kaliber, hebt ondernomen. O wat is het fijn je te laten verenigen met de natuur! Helaas vrees ik dat Cognetti mijn liefde voor De Acht Bergen niet meer zal weten te overtreffen.
Questo libriccino è riuscito a compiere una magia. In quello che altrimenti sarebbe stato un weekend uggioso, mi ha permesso di svegliarmi sotto il cielo senza nuvole di Dolpo, di guardare il tramonto sulla parete nord del Kanjiroba da 4700 m, di assaporare tè con sale e burro di yak, di meravigliarmi per l'invisibile che esiste dentro il visibile. È stato bello ritrovare la voce di #paolocognetti affrontare tematiche a lui care, come l'amicizia o la perdita della montagna autentica e della cultura dei montanari. Anche altri temi vengono affrontati alcuni forse in maniera un po' più sbrigativa, magari potendo lo scrittore si sarebbe dilungato di più, chissà. Quello che ne esce è un volumetto curatissimo, con delle illustrazioni spettacolari che da sole probabilmente valgono il prezzo, ma che ti lascia con una voglia insoddisfatta di saperne di più.
paolo cognetti, inače zaljubljenik u prirodu, krenuo je stopama petera matthiessena, autora "snježnog leoparda" (potajno u nadi da će i sam naići na jednog), u pokrajinu doplo u nepalu. ovo su više zabilješke i crtice s putovanja, nego klasični putopis. isprepleteno kratkim razgovorima sa svojim suputnicima i nježnim mislima -što o svijetu kojeg promatra oko sebe, što o svijetu od kojeg je pobjegao u planine- s neskrivenom odanosti majci prirodi i njenim ljepotama, ove rečenice popraćene autorovim jednostavnim crtežima ostavljaju ugodu, toplinu i mir, ali prvenstveno odmak od frenetičnog urbanog života.
Aan de hand van zijn favoriete boek 'De Sneeuwluipaard' van Peter Matthiessen, voert Cognetti ons mee op een prachtige, bijna mediterende reis door Dolpo in de Himalaya waar hij met zijn vrienden een voettocht door de bergen maakt. De manier waarop hij de veranderingen in de cultuur en het landschap van Nepal beschrijft is zowel mooi als verontrustend. Cognetti's zin op bladzijde 102: '... het soort treurigheid dat alleen lezers kennen, heimwee naar het uitgelezen boek' geldt zeker ook voor dit boek.
Je mi cťou, že som mohla nový rok začať práve s touto knihou, i keď... nech by to bolo akékoľvek dielo od Cognettiho, tak by som cítila radosť a nadšenie. Jeho tvorba sa mi stala blízkou ihneď ako som si prečítala Osem hôr a odvtedy mi je jeho umenie akoby priateľom a pohladením na duši bezohľadu na obdobie a čas. Jeho talent a dar slova je pre mňa niečím s čím sa dokážem stotožniť, v čom sa rada strácam a nachádzam, a čo sa ma dotýka svojim významom. A najmä cítim vďačnosť, že knihy ako jeho sú... Aj táto bola krásna. Jemná, pomalá, nevšedná... Plná krásy a vďaky. Nemyslím si, že existuje možnosť, že by tvorba tohto autora mohla sklamať :). Jeho literárne oslavy života a prírody ma nikdy neprestanú baviť a napĺňať tým správnym druhom pokoja.
Paolo Cognetti sa spolu so svojim priateľom vybral do Himalájí inšpirovaná knihou Snežný leopard, ktorú vo svojom texte často parafrázuje, spomína, cituje. Celkovo musím povedať, že kniha neprináša z môjho pohľadu absolútne nič nového. Existujú lepšie a cestopisne, opisne či filozoficky viac vyvážené knihy o cestách, ktoré novodobým štyridsiatnikom či iným ...tnikom vynahrádzajú " ponory do samého seba". Kniha sa dokonca miestami nevyhla zbytočnej nostalgii , čo je asi dané ťiažou prírody, hôr, osamelosti, veľkosti a diaľky. Z Cognettiho je ale cítiť úcta k horám a prírode, k ľuďom, ktorí tam žijú, nie je to pre neho iba lacné pachtenie sa za zážitkami a vysokohorská turistika.
Gnik, mmm, mumble mumble Rispetto a “Le otto montagne” si tratta di una netta involuzione, a livello letterario e di prosa. Il genere reportage non decolla mai davvero e la narrazione zoppica in troppi punti. Voleva parlare delle cultura delle regioni che ha visitato o della sua esperienza in quei luoghi? Boh
“Senza mai arrivare in cima “ mi ha permesso di viaggiare e di visitare il Nepal più nascosto in questo periodo della mia vita che non posso farlo. Cognetti è capace di trasformare le parole in immagini, suoni e odori. Belli i suoi disegni.
‘En ergens daarboven bevond zich de sneeuwluipaard, om me eraan te herinneren dat niet alles wat bestaat voor het oog zichtbaar is, dat niet alles begrijpelijk is, dat je niet alles kunt beetpakken en meenemen.’
This book feels like a teacher asking a five-year-old to give a presentation about his favorite car. I don’t get it — why is he so obsessed with a mountain? I just don’t care, and it all comes across as a big ego trip. Paulo, I don’t think I’d like you in real life.
The author travels through Dolpo, in northwestern Nepal, following the journey 40 years earlier of Peter Matthiessen's The Snow Leopard. At times it was quite poetic but I it never struck me as a travelogue or a journey of self discovery.