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Toprak
Bir hayattan geriye ne kalır? Belli bir duyguya ait bir hikâye mi, bir anı mı? Ölüler hayatlarına geri dönebilseler ne söylerlerdi?
Biri kocasının bir ömür boyu elini tuttuğunu hatırladı. Biri doğdu, kumar oynadı ve öldü. Başka birinin hayatında çok insan oldu, ama sadece birini sevdi. Her şey bittiğinde de pişmanlıklar ve çelişkiler içinde olan ölüler; aşklarını, ailelerini, kırgınlıklarını, yalnızlıklarını, doğrularını ve yanlışlarını anlatıyor bu romanda.
Robert Seethaler Toprak’ta ölümün insan hayatındaki yerini, öteki dünyadan bir insanın yaşayanlara neler anlatacağını, hayatına dair neleri anlatmayı seçeceğini, bir olayın farklı kişilerce nasıl yorumlanacağını etkileyici bir kurguyla gözler önüne seriyor.
Biri kocasının bir ömür boyu elini tuttuğunu hatırladı. Biri doğdu, kumar oynadı ve öldü. Başka birinin hayatında çok insan oldu, ama sadece birini sevdi. Her şey bittiğinde de pişmanlıklar ve çelişkiler içinde olan ölüler; aşklarını, ailelerini, kırgınlıklarını, yalnızlıklarını, doğrularını ve yanlışlarını anlatıyor bu romanda.
Robert Seethaler Toprak’ta ölümün insan hayatındaki yerini, öteki dünyadan bir insanın yaşayanlara neler anlatacağını, hayatına dair neleri anlatmayı seçeceğini, bir olayın farklı kişilerce nasıl yorumlanacağını etkileyici bir kurguyla gözler önüne seriyor.
208 pages, Paperback
First published June 4, 2018
200 people are currently reading
3098 people want to read
About the author
Robert Seethaler
16 books800 followersRobert Seethaler is an Austrian living in Berlin and is the author of four previous novels. A Whole Life is his first work to be translated into English and is already a German bestseller, selling over 100,000 copies. The book has been translated from its original German by Charlotte Collins.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 425 reviews
January 4, 2022
“We fall into life, and we fall out of it the same way. There’s an opening, and you have to find it. Or you fumble around in the dark until you fall into it. One way or another, it always works.”
What a beautifully written story. The perfect ending to the close of a year. I can’t think of a better way to finish a year than to reflect on a life through the lens of those that have already passed from it. Despite the fact this is told from a chorus of voices in the Paulstadt cemetery, or The Field, this is not a ghost story. Through first person narration, each of the deceased shares a piece of themselves with the reader. Longings, regrets, small joys, loneliness, love, misunderstandings, fear, and hope – the emotions and essence of life. Most of these vignettes are not marked by grand happenings, but the small events that stamp the majority of our days. They are often memories of others that have shared either brief moments of their lives or those that were a part of them for longer periods of time. In either case, the impact of one life on another is significant as it echoes from one side of the grave to the other.
“A Sunday without you was incomplete. Making love with you, then lying beside you, in bed, in the grass, in the snow. That was everything.”
“Maya’s ear, very close. The little hairs behind it, exquisitely fine. Her cheek. Her small, round shoulder. Her laughter. Our laughter.”
“Isn’t it strange: I remember the colour of the dress I was wearing all those years ago, but I can’t remember what season it was when I died.”
Once the last page is turned, you realize that Robert Seethaler has accomplished something truly magnificent here. While you’ve been gazing at the subtle, individual brush strokes, he’s been creating a gorgeous canvas, a collage of a small town and its myriad citizens. You can see what makes up a life: its moments and the people that wander in and out of it, for better or for worse. I wouldn’t call this a sad book; after all, the premise going into this is already known. Every character now lies beneath the surface of the earth. It is, however, melancholic. It will force you to take a breath, perhaps gasp now and then, and to step back and think of those moments in your own life that have so far shaped who you are as an individual. Certain people may come to mind. You may find yourself wishing you could go stand at his or her gravestone and ask just a question or two. But does it make sense to even try?
“A living person thinking about death. A dead person talking about life. What’s the point? Neither side understands the other. There are intimations. And there are memories. Both can be deceptive.”
I’d like to think there’s a point. This book made me think of a special person. It’s been nearly a year since my beloved uncle passed away. He had lived a long life, but left us rather abruptly just the same. He lived the life he wanted to, even though others in the family sometimes frowned, passing judgments as family is wont to do. But he was a happy man, and I believe he left with few regrets. I suppose we all have something that we keep hidden deep inside. He was the most encouraging of “cheerleaders”, always supporting both me and my sister in whatever we wanted to do in life. Last New Year’s Day, shortly before he died, he called me. Despite all the madness in our country and the world at the time, he had hope. “Candi, I just know things are going to get better for you and for us all. I can feel it in my bones.” He was a man who died alone in a nursing facility in another state and still found the heart to share that desire with optimism. I’m going to go visit him this week in the field where he was laid to rest and say, “Thank you, Uncle Carl... for everything.”
“Basically, I understand nothing about love, and all I know about life is that it has to be lived. But at least I do now know a little about death. It puts an end to longing, and if you hold still it doesn’t hurt at all.”
What a beautifully written story. The perfect ending to the close of a year. I can’t think of a better way to finish a year than to reflect on a life through the lens of those that have already passed from it. Despite the fact this is told from a chorus of voices in the Paulstadt cemetery, or The Field, this is not a ghost story. Through first person narration, each of the deceased shares a piece of themselves with the reader. Longings, regrets, small joys, loneliness, love, misunderstandings, fear, and hope – the emotions and essence of life. Most of these vignettes are not marked by grand happenings, but the small events that stamp the majority of our days. They are often memories of others that have shared either brief moments of their lives or those that were a part of them for longer periods of time. In either case, the impact of one life on another is significant as it echoes from one side of the grave to the other.
“A Sunday without you was incomplete. Making love with you, then lying beside you, in bed, in the grass, in the snow. That was everything.”
“Maya’s ear, very close. The little hairs behind it, exquisitely fine. Her cheek. Her small, round shoulder. Her laughter. Our laughter.”
“Isn’t it strange: I remember the colour of the dress I was wearing all those years ago, but I can’t remember what season it was when I died.”
Once the last page is turned, you realize that Robert Seethaler has accomplished something truly magnificent here. While you’ve been gazing at the subtle, individual brush strokes, he’s been creating a gorgeous canvas, a collage of a small town and its myriad citizens. You can see what makes up a life: its moments and the people that wander in and out of it, for better or for worse. I wouldn’t call this a sad book; after all, the premise going into this is already known. Every character now lies beneath the surface of the earth. It is, however, melancholic. It will force you to take a breath, perhaps gasp now and then, and to step back and think of those moments in your own life that have so far shaped who you are as an individual. Certain people may come to mind. You may find yourself wishing you could go stand at his or her gravestone and ask just a question or two. But does it make sense to even try?
“A living person thinking about death. A dead person talking about life. What’s the point? Neither side understands the other. There are intimations. And there are memories. Both can be deceptive.”
I’d like to think there’s a point. This book made me think of a special person. It’s been nearly a year since my beloved uncle passed away. He had lived a long life, but left us rather abruptly just the same. He lived the life he wanted to, even though others in the family sometimes frowned, passing judgments as family is wont to do. But he was a happy man, and I believe he left with few regrets. I suppose we all have something that we keep hidden deep inside. He was the most encouraging of “cheerleaders”, always supporting both me and my sister in whatever we wanted to do in life. Last New Year’s Day, shortly before he died, he called me. Despite all the madness in our country and the world at the time, he had hope. “Candi, I just know things are going to get better for you and for us all. I can feel it in my bones.” He was a man who died alone in a nursing facility in another state and still found the heart to share that desire with optimism. I’m going to go visit him this week in the field where he was laid to rest and say, “Thank you, Uncle Carl... for everything.”
“Basically, I understand nothing about love, and all I know about life is that it has to be lived. But at least I do now know a little about death. It puts an end to longing, and if you hold still it doesn’t hurt at all.”
March 8, 2021
A small plot of barren land is donated to the town and becomes the final resting place of its inhabitants. Their are the voices we hear/read in this unusual novel. The dead tell us their stories while lying underground, often close to their relatives, and paint the portrayal of the town where they loved, hated, suffered and died.
The idea behind this novel is original as it is not meant be be a horror or a ghost story. In fact, the reader does not feel as if they are reading tales told by the deceased, and this is what makes The Field an unusual read. The voices sound like those of the living, and some observations they make about their passing away could not be said more naturally.
The translation is good and the novel reads smoothly.
*Many thanks to Robert Seethaler, Pan Macmillan, and NetGalley for arc in exchange for my honest review.*
The idea behind this novel is original as it is not meant be be a horror or a ghost story. In fact, the reader does not feel as if they are reading tales told by the deceased, and this is what makes The Field an unusual read. The voices sound like those of the living, and some observations they make about their passing away could not be said more naturally.
The translation is good and the novel reads smoothly.
*Many thanks to Robert Seethaler, Pan Macmillan, and NetGalley for arc in exchange for my honest review.*
May 7, 2021
I devoured this book.
I wanted to dive into it and never come back. I longed to be immersed in its beautiful prose forever. I seriously considered reading it again the moment I finished it. I had to fight the urge to climb on the roof and shout out to the world: “Here it is, everyone, the secret of life condensed into a few more than two hundred pages! What are you waiting for?”
Because this, my lovely friends, is why I read. And this is why I keep opening one book after the other. Because I believe that’s the way life has to be lived: as an intense search for what speaks louder to our hearts.
Every single word.
Every single page.
Every single life.
And every single moment.
Perfect.
Now, don’t let the description of this book put you off. This is NOT a book about the dead, ghosts or any other horror or supernatural elements.
What you’re going to find within its pages is basically one of the most captivating and original chronicles ever written of life in a small town.
As strange as it might sound, every single character telling their story is already dead. Some were old, others not that old. Some knew each other and others didn’t but whether they knew it or not while they were alive their lives had collided in some way somewhere in time. I know, I know, how can I say that there’s no supernatural elements in it if I want you to believe the words of the dead. Well, I guess you’ll have to trust me if I say that their voices are exactly like any other voice of a first person narrator. It works. It really does. And so well.
Wait, wait, let me show you. Have a look at this:
When I was dying, you sat beside me and held my hand. I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t needed sleep for a long time. We talked. We told each other stories and reminisced. I looked at you, as I always liked to look at you. You were not a beautiful man. Your nose was far too big, your eyelids drooped, and your skin was pale and blotchy. You were not a beautiful man, but you were my man.
Or this:
Being the oldest is not an achievement or an advantage. You die at a hundred and five the same at eighty-five or thirty-two, and the price of a life that long is loneliness. Death is the same for everyone. It’s just that the people standing beside the grave don’t know that yet. I’ve often stood beside a grave, and it was never nice. The closest it might come would be in Spring, if you don’t know the deceased that well and the trees are blossoming and the birds chirping. Sometimes I imagined the birds in the trees were the souls of the dead. A nice idea, but nonsense, obviously.
Okay, just one more:
I just fell out of life. We fall into life, and we fall out of it the same way. There’s an opening, and you have to find it. Or you fumble around in the dark until you fall into it. One way or another, it always works.
See?
I don’t need a lot of drama, misery, sorrow or pain to feel moved, I have found. All I need is exactly what I’ve got from this beautiful book; the plain and simple truth of what matters the most in life: honesty.
I wanted to dive into it and never come back. I longed to be immersed in its beautiful prose forever. I seriously considered reading it again the moment I finished it. I had to fight the urge to climb on the roof and shout out to the world: “Here it is, everyone, the secret of life condensed into a few more than two hundred pages! What are you waiting for?”
Because this, my lovely friends, is why I read. And this is why I keep opening one book after the other. Because I believe that’s the way life has to be lived: as an intense search for what speaks louder to our hearts.
Every single word.
Every single page.
Every single life.
And every single moment.
Perfect.
Now, don’t let the description of this book put you off. This is NOT a book about the dead, ghosts or any other horror or supernatural elements.
What you’re going to find within its pages is basically one of the most captivating and original chronicles ever written of life in a small town.
As strange as it might sound, every single character telling their story is already dead. Some were old, others not that old. Some knew each other and others didn’t but whether they knew it or not while they were alive their lives had collided in some way somewhere in time. I know, I know, how can I say that there’s no supernatural elements in it if I want you to believe the words of the dead. Well, I guess you’ll have to trust me if I say that their voices are exactly like any other voice of a first person narrator. It works. It really does. And so well.
Wait, wait, let me show you. Have a look at this:
When I was dying, you sat beside me and held my hand. I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t needed sleep for a long time. We talked. We told each other stories and reminisced. I looked at you, as I always liked to look at you. You were not a beautiful man. Your nose was far too big, your eyelids drooped, and your skin was pale and blotchy. You were not a beautiful man, but you were my man.
Or this:
Being the oldest is not an achievement or an advantage. You die at a hundred and five the same at eighty-five or thirty-two, and the price of a life that long is loneliness. Death is the same for everyone. It’s just that the people standing beside the grave don’t know that yet. I’ve often stood beside a grave, and it was never nice. The closest it might come would be in Spring, if you don’t know the deceased that well and the trees are blossoming and the birds chirping. Sometimes I imagined the birds in the trees were the souls of the dead. A nice idea, but nonsense, obviously.
Okay, just one more:
I just fell out of life. We fall into life, and we fall out of it the same way. There’s an opening, and you have to find it. Or you fumble around in the dark until you fall into it. One way or another, it always works.
See?
I don’t need a lot of drama, misery, sorrow or pain to feel moved, I have found. All I need is exactly what I’ve got from this beautiful book; the plain and simple truth of what matters the most in life: honesty.
July 19, 2022
The field is a neglected corner of an old cemetery in a German town.
A man came almost daily to sit on a bench under a birch tree amongst the graves and during these visits he heard the dead talking They told of moments that shaped their lives or the moment it ended.
What a unique story line… Some really beautiful writing!
A man came almost daily to sit on a bench under a birch tree amongst the graves and during these visits he heard the dead talking They told of moments that shaped their lives or the moment it ended.
What a unique story line… Some really beautiful writing!
November 27, 2022
"Death is the same for everyone. It's just that the people standing beside the grave don't know that yet."
This is a book about life written in the words of the people buried in the town graveyard, known as The Field. Their memories tell us the story of the town, seen through each person's perceptions of moments from their lives. Very young, very old, and everyone in between. Written in the simple language that seems to be Seethaler's style, we realize that it doesn't end with death.
"Death holds the truth, but you're not allowed to tell it."
You may think this sounds depressing, but far from it. Instead it's life affirming. All of us are headed for the field sooner or later. Regret nothing, but live while you are able.
This is a book about life written in the words of the people buried in the town graveyard, known as The Field. Their memories tell us the story of the town, seen through each person's perceptions of moments from their lives. Very young, very old, and everyone in between. Written in the simple language that seems to be Seethaler's style, we realize that it doesn't end with death.
"Death holds the truth, but you're not allowed to tell it."
You may think this sounds depressing, but far from it. Instead it's life affirming. All of us are headed for the field sooner or later. Regret nothing, but live while you are able.
February 17, 2024
I sat on my front doorstep, watching the wind, and had the sense that everything was coming together in me. I was my father, I was my grandfather, I was his father and his father and his father. I was the last and the first in this long line of people, and in the ground beneath my feet the roots were loosening and I was all right with that.
*
You let go of everything in time.
*
Here, beside the sea, I’m always aware of how badly I need freedom. Infinity, with all its possibilities, of closeness and distance.
*
There are intimations. And there are memories. Both can be deceptive.
*
You let go of everything in time.
*
Here, beside the sea, I’m always aware of how badly I need freedom. Infinity, with all its possibilities, of closeness and distance.
*
There are intimations. And there are memories. Both can be deceptive.
April 12, 2022
Gyvam galvoti apie mirtį. Mirusiam kalbėti apie gyvenimą. Kokia prasmė? Nė vienas apie kitą nieko neišmano. Esama nuojautų. Ir esama prisiminimų. Bet ir viena, ir kita gali klaidinti.
Robertas Seethaleris yra vienas mėgstamiausių mano šiuolaikinių rašytojų.
Jis mažakalbis, jo knygos nė dviejų šimtų puslapių nesudaro, bet greitai jų perskaityti neįmanoma, nes Seethalerio tekstas yra meditacija, kurioje nusiskandintų akimirksniu net didžiausias cinikas.
Seethaleris rašo po pusvalandį per kartą, tekstų netaiso, knygą pabaigia per pusantrų metų, pasaulį laiko vieta, kurioje ženkliai per daug pliurpalų.
Kaip tu jo tokio nemėgsi?
LAUKAS pasakoja apie Paulštato, išgalvoto miestelio, kapines. Į knygą ir širdį sukrenta 29 miestelio gyventojų gyvenimo istorijos. Teisingai pastebėta - plevenančios, skausmingai atviros. Imi ir susitapatini…
Imi ir jautiesi kartu su Paulštatu netekęs, pamilęs, vienišas ir tikintis.
Tai pirma mano knyga karui prasidėjus.
Kaip simboliška, kad ši.
Beje, jei Seethalerio dar neatradote, jo VISAS GYVENIMAS ir TABAKININKAS yra nuostabu.
Robertas Seethaleris yra vienas mėgstamiausių mano šiuolaikinių rašytojų.
Jis mažakalbis, jo knygos nė dviejų šimtų puslapių nesudaro, bet greitai jų perskaityti neįmanoma, nes Seethalerio tekstas yra meditacija, kurioje nusiskandintų akimirksniu net didžiausias cinikas.
Seethaleris rašo po pusvalandį per kartą, tekstų netaiso, knygą pabaigia per pusantrų metų, pasaulį laiko vieta, kurioje ženkliai per daug pliurpalų.
Kaip tu jo tokio nemėgsi?
LAUKAS pasakoja apie Paulštato, išgalvoto miestelio, kapines. Į knygą ir širdį sukrenta 29 miestelio gyventojų gyvenimo istorijos. Teisingai pastebėta - plevenančios, skausmingai atviros. Imi ir susitapatini…
Imi ir jautiesi kartu su Paulštatu netekęs, pamilęs, vienišas ir tikintis.
Tai pirma mano knyga karui prasidėjus.
Kaip simboliška, kad ši.
Beje, jei Seethalerio dar neatradote, jo VISAS GYVENIMAS ir TABAKININKAS yra nuostabu.
October 30, 2021
Gorgeously written, deeply melancholic vignettes told by the dead, all of them buried together in a poorly-tended cemetery. Each gets a turn to share what they remember of their life story--what impressions they still remember, even after death. I loved the way these stories intersect. I loved the way some of the voices share memories of a single event told from different perspectives. I especially loved the vignettes that were more a series of vivid life impressions, rather than a story per se. Sometimes the memories of the dead consist of very small, and yet significant sense impression. The touch of a spouse. Seeing the boy who bullied you as a child many years later, while he is in the act of tenderly embracing a woman. The way each voice in turn describes their memories with nearly pointillistic detail, tiny moments that have stuck in the mind even after death, reminded me of the oral-history works of Walter Kempowski.
May 26, 2021
The Field is the sixth novel by the Austrian author and actor Robert Seethaler. He resides in Berlin and Vienna. l got introduced to this beautiful book by Pedro's glowing review:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
The Field is a cemetery in Paulstadt. It used to be a field. The "Paulstädter" citizens still keep calling it "The Field". I think it is quite poetic. When I was a child my grandma's cousin (she was like a grandma to me, too) would go with me to the cemetery; we would sit on a bench there or walk about a little bit and she would tell me about the people's lives while we were looking at their graves. During day time.
It is kind of like that and also not like that at all. The voices speak their stories into the readers' hearts. Just beautiful. Robert Seethaler does not make you look at gravestones and read inscriptions and ponder from the outside what the people might have been like. You get to listen and learn from them (how their lives were).
It is quite beautifully written from cover to cover. It is not always nice. It is about life after all. It is very artistic sometimes (for instance there is an inventory of a life with numbers).
I like to listen to the different voices. Skillful changes of first person narrators. Quite impressive. But what I like most about this book is that I can let the words sink deeply into my heart and pause. Just pause. If I pause a lot whilst reading and reread pages it usually is a very good sign. It was like that with the Highsmith tales. But it does not happen often.
I marked a lot of stuff. Susan Tessler's story includes in my opinion the 3 most beautiful lines of this beautiful book. (I will only tell people who have already read this book.)
An meine deutschsprachigen Freunde: "Das Feld" gibt es als Hörbuch auf Spotify (vom Autor gelesen). Hier und da frei erzählt mit ein paar kleinen Änderungen/Erweiterungen der Romanvorlage. Man merkt, dass Herr Seethaler Schauspieler ist. Schön, die Stimme des Autors vermischt mit den einzelnen Stimmen aus Paulstadt zu hören. Ich bin normalerweise nicht begeistert, wenn Erzähler ständig wechseln. Aber in diesem Roman ist es wunderbar gemacht.
Ebba
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
The Field is a cemetery in Paulstadt. It used to be a field. The "Paulstädter" citizens still keep calling it "The Field". I think it is quite poetic. When I was a child my grandma's cousin (she was like a grandma to me, too) would go with me to the cemetery; we would sit on a bench there or walk about a little bit and she would tell me about the people's lives while we were looking at their graves. During day time.
It is kind of like that and also not like that at all. The voices speak their stories into the readers' hearts. Just beautiful. Robert Seethaler does not make you look at gravestones and read inscriptions and ponder from the outside what the people might have been like. You get to listen and learn from them (how their lives were).
It is quite beautifully written from cover to cover. It is not always nice. It is about life after all. It is very artistic sometimes (for instance there is an inventory of a life with numbers).
I like to listen to the different voices. Skillful changes of first person narrators. Quite impressive. But what I like most about this book is that I can let the words sink deeply into my heart and pause. Just pause. If I pause a lot whilst reading and reread pages it usually is a very good sign. It was like that with the Highsmith tales. But it does not happen often.
I marked a lot of stuff. Susan Tessler's story includes in my opinion the 3 most beautiful lines of this beautiful book. (I will only tell people who have already read this book.)
An meine deutschsprachigen Freunde: "Das Feld" gibt es als Hörbuch auf Spotify (vom Autor gelesen). Hier und da frei erzählt mit ein paar kleinen Änderungen/Erweiterungen der Romanvorlage. Man merkt, dass Herr Seethaler Schauspieler ist. Schön, die Stimme des Autors vermischt mit den einzelnen Stimmen aus Paulstadt zu hören. Ich bin normalerweise nicht begeistert, wenn Erzähler ständig wechseln. Aber in diesem Roman ist es wunderbar gemacht.
Ebba
February 20, 2022
Graži knyga, tikrai geresnė už Tabakininką, sakyčiau panašaus gerumo kaip Visas gyvenimas. Dar priminė Bergerio Mes susitinkame čia, bet irgi geresnė.
Seethaleris mėgsta mikroprozą, tačiau šitas romanas atrodo dar eksperimentiškesnis: jei "Visą gyvenimą" galima sutalpinti į ~150 psl, tai čia į 200 psl sutalpino keliasdešimt gyvenimų. Laukas - taip vadinasi fikcinio Vokietijos miesto kapinių rajonas, gaunam trumpą intro, kaip ateina žmogus, sėdasi kapinėse ant suoliuko ir kaip ima girdėti Balsus. Kiekvienas balsas / knygos skyrelis - tai, ką kalba mirusysis ar mirusioji, kai kurie sako tik po 1 žodį ("Idiotai."), kai kurie pasakoja visą savo gyvenimą "nuo iki", kai kurie tik kažkokį įvykį, kai kurie kalbasi su atėjusiais aplankyti. Kai kurie - iš 19 amžiaus (19 a. pr. reporteris), kai kurie visiškai šiuolaikiniai, per nelaimingą atsitiktinumą žuvę apsinarkašinę paaugliai ir pan.
Seethaleris labai literatūriškas: nors skirtingi balsai skirtingai ir skamba, jis vis dėlto išlieka sau būdingas, meditatyvus, lyriškas. Tas labai gražu - atsiminiau diskusiją apie Rožyną, kad Fiokla rašo neliteratūriškai, kad ten vien publicistika ir "ne literatūra", tai va palyginus juos matyti, kas tai yra ta literatūra, kur tikrai nekyla joks klausimas, kokio tipo tai rašymas. Bet sykiu skaičiau ir galvojau apie Bergerį, Seethalerį, tuos literatūrinius balsus apie mirtį ir žmonių gyvenimus. Man vis dėlto Fioklos neapdirbtas ir žalias rašymas buvo kažkuo artimesnis ir gyvesnis - Seethalerio balsai labai gražūs, bet kažkaip tolimi, neprakalbntys, tik vietomis. Gal čia mano (ne)skonio bėda.
Bet vis dėlto mirusių žmonių balsus užrašė Saundersas Linkolne bardo ir man būtent ta knyga vis prisimena kaip aukščiausia įmanoma literatūrinė ir net kažkokia dar didesnė meistrystė, gražiausias (šalia Augustino, tas visada pravirkdo) kalbėjimas apie mirtį, niekaip negaliu jos pamiršt, jokie kiti balsai apie tą nekalba arba nepasiekia. Gal Seethaleris tiesiog irgi nelabai mano, kad ir kokia gera knyga.
Gražiausia "Lauko" vieta (man priminė "Linkolną", gal ir nuoroda į jį, gal ir dėl to patiko), kur telpa ir skausmas, ir paprastumas, ir stilistinis skaidrumas:
Seethaleris mėgsta mikroprozą, tačiau šitas romanas atrodo dar eksperimentiškesnis: jei "Visą gyvenimą" galima sutalpinti į ~150 psl, tai čia į 200 psl sutalpino keliasdešimt gyvenimų. Laukas - taip vadinasi fikcinio Vokietijos miesto kapinių rajonas, gaunam trumpą intro, kaip ateina žmogus, sėdasi kapinėse ant suoliuko ir kaip ima girdėti Balsus. Kiekvienas balsas / knygos skyrelis - tai, ką kalba mirusysis ar mirusioji, kai kurie sako tik po 1 žodį ("Idiotai."), kai kurie pasakoja visą savo gyvenimą "nuo iki", kai kurie tik kažkokį įvykį, kai kurie kalbasi su atėjusiais aplankyti. Kai kurie - iš 19 amžiaus (19 a. pr. reporteris), kai kurie visiškai šiuolaikiniai, per nelaimingą atsitiktinumą žuvę apsinarkašinę paaugliai ir pan.
Seethaleris labai literatūriškas: nors skirtingi balsai skirtingai ir skamba, jis vis dėlto išlieka sau būdingas, meditatyvus, lyriškas. Tas labai gražu - atsiminiau diskusiją apie Rožyną, kad Fiokla rašo neliteratūriškai, kad ten vien publicistika ir "ne literatūra", tai va palyginus juos matyti, kas tai yra ta literatūra, kur tikrai nekyla joks klausimas, kokio tipo tai rašymas. Bet sykiu skaičiau ir galvojau apie Bergerį, Seethalerį, tuos literatūrinius balsus apie mirtį ir žmonių gyvenimus. Man vis dėlto Fioklos neapdirbtas ir žalias rašymas buvo kažkuo artimesnis ir gyvesnis - Seethalerio balsai labai gražūs, bet kažkaip tolimi, neprakalbntys, tik vietomis. Gal čia mano (ne)skonio bėda.
Bet vis dėlto mirusių žmonių balsus užrašė Saundersas Linkolne bardo ir man būtent ta knyga vis prisimena kaip aukščiausia įmanoma literatūrinė ir net kažkokia dar didesnė meistrystė, gražiausias (šalia Augustino, tas visada pravirkdo) kalbėjimas apie mirtį, niekaip negaliu jos pamiršt, jokie kiti balsai apie tą nekalba arba nepasiekia. Gal Seethaleris tiesiog irgi nelabai mano, kad ir kokia gera knyga.
Gražiausia "Lauko" vieta (man priminė "Linkolną", gal ir nuoroda į jį, gal ir dėl to patiko), kur telpa ir skausmas, ir paprastumas, ir stilistinis skaidrumas:
Tėvo žingsniai prieškambaryje. Motinos kailinės kepurės kvapas. Gydytojas. Naktinių seselių balsai. Geležinkelis. Mūsų pirštai šleikščiai švelniuose minkštų kino salės kėdžių tarpuose. Kelionės autobusu. Tamsūs žiemos vakarai. Ant virtuvės grindų palietas pienas. Kryčiai. Žaizdos. Randai. Jos rankos. Jos pėdos. Jos kakta. Šiukšlių konteineryje dėžė su kaladėlėmis. Sausainiai. Obuoliai. Sumuštinis. Trylika taurių, ir dar negana. Negyvi paukščiai prie laukujų durų. Ant palangės gaištanti vapsva it dūzgiantis vilkelis. Muzika iš tolo. Mirtis ateina kaip vėjas. Pasiima tave. Ir nusineša.
Iš kur tai žinau? Nežinau. (p. 66-67)
September 21, 2024
"Doğru kadın senin sorunlarınla ilgilenen, ancak daha çok kendi sorunlarına zaman ayırmayı yeğleyen kadındır. Sevmeyi bilen ve günün birinde bu duyguyu çabucacık unutuveren kadındır."
Avusturyalı yazar Robert Seethaler'in -şimdilik- dilimizde yayınlanmış tüm kitaplarını okumuş oldum Toprak'la beraber. Okudukça daha çok, daha çok seviyorum kendisini, sanırım bugüne dek en sevdiğim kitabı da Toprak oldu.
Avusturya'nın ücra bir kasabası olan Paulstadt'ın mezarlığındayız; ölülerin seslerini işitiyoruz. Toprağın altındakiler konuşuyor, kendi öykülerini anlatıyorlar bize. Çünkü, diyor yazar, "insan ancak ölümü geride bıraktıktan sonra yaşamı hakkında kesin bir yargıya varabilir."
Her bölümde bir başkasının hikayesini dinliyoruz, kimi hikayeler çakışıyor, bazı karakterler yeniden karşımıza çıkıyor, anlatılar birbirine bağlanıyor. Kimi zaman birlikte yaşanmış hayatların iki insanın zihninde nasıl bambaşka yer edebileceğini görüyoruz; hatıranın biricikliği, hafızanın güvenilmezliği insana fena dokunuyor.
Kimi ölülerin pişmanlıklarını işitiyor, kiminin sevilemeyişine dertleniyor, kiminin sevme biçimine hayranlık duyuyor, kiminin savaşla imtihanına tanıklık ediyoruz. Ölüler, uzaktan seslendiklerini, arkalarına bakarak anlattıklarını belli eder biçimde konuşuyorlar; soğukkanlılar ama asla duygusuz değiller - zaten kitabın bende hayranlık uyandıran kısmı bu oldu. İnsanın içine içine işlemeyi ama bunu dramatize etmeden; nostaljiye, kasvete, duygu sömürüsüne, acındırmaya, vahlanmalara başvurmadan yapmayı başarmış Seethaler. Her ölüye kendine has bir ses vermenin de bir yolunu bulmuş ki bu kadar çok karakterli bir metinde kolay iş değil bu yaptığı.
Sanki tüm karakterlerine şefkat duymuş gibi hissettim okurken, o duygu okura da geçiyor. Bir devri, o devri yaşamış ve göçüp gitmiş insanların ağzından anlatmak, bir kasabanın bu biçimde bir fotoğrafını çekmek bence şahane bir fikir, hele bu kadar ustalıklı biçimde hayata geçirilince insan iyice vuruluyor.
Regaip Minareci'nin çevirisi de her zamanki gibi müthiş.
İyi ki okudum, siz de okuyun.
Avusturyalı yazar Robert Seethaler'in -şimdilik- dilimizde yayınlanmış tüm kitaplarını okumuş oldum Toprak'la beraber. Okudukça daha çok, daha çok seviyorum kendisini, sanırım bugüne dek en sevdiğim kitabı da Toprak oldu.
Avusturya'nın ücra bir kasabası olan Paulstadt'ın mezarlığındayız; ölülerin seslerini işitiyoruz. Toprağın altındakiler konuşuyor, kendi öykülerini anlatıyorlar bize. Çünkü, diyor yazar, "insan ancak ölümü geride bıraktıktan sonra yaşamı hakkında kesin bir yargıya varabilir."
Her bölümde bir başkasının hikayesini dinliyoruz, kimi hikayeler çakışıyor, bazı karakterler yeniden karşımıza çıkıyor, anlatılar birbirine bağlanıyor. Kimi zaman birlikte yaşanmış hayatların iki insanın zihninde nasıl bambaşka yer edebileceğini görüyoruz; hatıranın biricikliği, hafızanın güvenilmezliği insana fena dokunuyor.
Kimi ölülerin pişmanlıklarını işitiyor, kiminin sevilemeyişine dertleniyor, kiminin sevme biçimine hayranlık duyuyor, kiminin savaşla imtihanına tanıklık ediyoruz. Ölüler, uzaktan seslendiklerini, arkalarına bakarak anlattıklarını belli eder biçimde konuşuyorlar; soğukkanlılar ama asla duygusuz değiller - zaten kitabın bende hayranlık uyandıran kısmı bu oldu. İnsanın içine içine işlemeyi ama bunu dramatize etmeden; nostaljiye, kasvete, duygu sömürüsüne, acındırmaya, vahlanmalara başvurmadan yapmayı başarmış Seethaler. Her ölüye kendine has bir ses vermenin de bir yolunu bulmuş ki bu kadar çok karakterli bir metinde kolay iş değil bu yaptığı.
Sanki tüm karakterlerine şefkat duymuş gibi hissettim okurken, o duygu okura da geçiyor. Bir devri, o devri yaşamış ve göçüp gitmiş insanların ağzından anlatmak, bir kasabanın bu biçimde bir fotoğrafını çekmek bence şahane bir fikir, hele bu kadar ustalıklı biçimde hayata geçirilince insan iyice vuruluyor.
Regaip Minareci'nin çevirisi de her zamanki gibi müthiş.
İyi ki okudum, siz de okuyun.
April 6, 2022
Knygoje nerasite nei vieno žodžio, kuris būtų lyšnas* (šį žodį vartojo mano prosenelė). Skaitant apima jausena, kad kiekviena frazė, kiekvienas sakinys yra nugludintas iki tobulumo, kad būtų kuo taikliau perteikia būsenos akimirka ir/ar vaizdinio ryškumas.
Tai beprotiškai stipus kūrinys apie gyvenimą prieš ir po. Tai pasakojimai, kuriais dalijamasi po mirties apie gyvenimą iki jos. Šis kūrinys yra mažo miestelio gyventojų pašnekesiai apie susikertančius likimus laiko ir erdvės sankirtose.
Tai beprotiškai stipus kūrinys apie gyvenimą prieš ir po. Tai pasakojimai, kuriais dalijamasi po mirties apie gyvenimą iki jos. Šis kūrinys yra mažo miestelio gyventojų pašnekesiai apie susikertančius likimus laiko ir erdvės sankirtose.
May 12, 2018
ja, zwei Sterne, liebe Freunde!
Viel darf ich noch nicht sagen, da das Buch noch nicht erschienen ist, aber wenn ich mich beim Lesen zu oft frage, wann es endlich zu Ende ist, kann ich es unmöglich höher bewerten. Seethaler hin oder her.
Wer von euch es selbst liest, wird sehen was ich meine. Vielleicht kann jemand anderes auch mehr damit anfangen als ich. :)
Viel darf ich noch nicht sagen, da das Buch noch nicht erschienen ist, aber wenn ich mich beim Lesen zu oft frage, wann es endlich zu Ende ist, kann ich es unmöglich höher bewerten. Seethaler hin oder her.
Wer von euch es selbst liest, wird sehen was ich meine. Vielleicht kann jemand anderes auch mehr damit anfangen als ich. :)
April 5, 2023
Savotiškas kūrinėlis, 30 neilgų skyrių, kiekviename vis kito žmogaus balsas iš užmirštų mažo miestelio kapinių. Vieni pasakoja apie paskutinę dieną, kai mirė, kiti apskritai apie savo gyvenimą. Kai kurie žmonės ar įvykiai susiję tarpusavyje. Idėja įdomi, tekstukai gražūs, tik kai skyriai tokie trumpi, nepavyko įsijausti.
September 25, 2021
I always try not to write anything bad about any book unless I have to (when I say "I have to" I mean on those really really pointless books), but I didn't find anything in this book.
First of all, even so idea of dead people talking about their lives can be interesting, I think author chose the most boring and, I got to say, MEANINGLESS way to make it work. What the heck was that ? You are really going to tell me people will talk about THOSE stuff ? Okay, even if you can convince me that, please don't try to find some depth or hidden message in it - there is nothing special, author just randomly wrote some basic stuff and tried to make you think there is something in it. I'm sorry, there is not.
What is good in this book, hence the 2 stars, are two things. First - I think that author has a very good potential to be a great narrator. The way he switches from character to character is unique and deserves respect. Second - the mall stories are the only worth reading, at least for me, and if I am generous, maybe the gambling story.
Everything else - 0 stars. Thank God this book is a little less than 200 pages, or I would have died of boredom.
First of all, even so idea of dead people talking about their lives can be interesting, I think author chose the most boring and, I got to say, MEANINGLESS way to make it work. What the heck was that ? You are really going to tell me people will talk about THOSE stuff ? Okay, even if you can convince me that, please don't try to find some depth or hidden message in it - there is nothing special, author just randomly wrote some basic stuff and tried to make you think there is something in it. I'm sorry, there is not.
What is good in this book, hence the 2 stars, are two things. First - I think that author has a very good potential to be a great narrator. The way he switches from character to character is unique and deserves respect. Second - the mall stories are the only worth reading, at least for me, and if I am generous, maybe the gambling story.
Everything else - 0 stars. Thank God this book is a little less than 200 pages, or I would have died of boredom.
June 7, 2025
An old man losing his vision sits on a bench in a field with graves in the fictional town of Paulsdadt and listens to the dead telling their stories from below. This allows the narrative to become a series of vignettes about the various dead people who lived in this place, how their lives intertwined, and how they viewed themselves, their lives, their demise. Some are better than others but all give only a glimpse into their character by virtue of their brevity. Some knew each other, some didn't, but all are as sentimental as you might imagine.
It's a nice idea but it left me rather cold. Books like this feel very deliberately melancholic until you inevitably feel you are being somewhat manipulated. It's too deliberate, too sentimental and full of false emotion, a book trying to acquire profundity in the idea of loss and regret, in the failings of these human lives. Most of these people were disappointed by some aspect of life and did not take from it what they wanted. But that's the point. I think the one I enjoyed the most was the guy destined to be a wolf in a world where only wolves and sheep exist. He has this expectation instilled at an early age by his father but discovers, rather bluntly, that he is, in fact, just another sheep. That was effectively done... genuinely stark. And the priest who burns his own church down was pretty interesting. But otherwise, I just didn't connect with these characters and always felt that they were mere props from which Seethaler could squeeze every last drop of sadness. It wasn't ever something that was especially engaging. It also doesn't help that I hate vignette books masquerading as novels.
The writing is simplistic, safe, easy, never troubling, and you're left with a very basic premise that, at surface level, seems inspirational and moving but which, in my opinion, is only ever a rather superficial glimpse into what life and death mean to most people. It's not terrible but it's not great. Again, it doesn't help that this book combines two things I hate in literature. 1) vignettes pretending to be a novel by virtue of the fact that the characters lives intertwine and 2) books that are (cynically or not) playing on the heart strings of the reader but without any meaningful insights. Some will be conned by the book, others won't.
It's okay. I would probably still recommend it. But it wasn't anything special.
It's a nice idea but it left me rather cold. Books like this feel very deliberately melancholic until you inevitably feel you are being somewhat manipulated. It's too deliberate, too sentimental and full of false emotion, a book trying to acquire profundity in the idea of loss and regret, in the failings of these human lives. Most of these people were disappointed by some aspect of life and did not take from it what they wanted. But that's the point. I think the one I enjoyed the most was the guy destined to be a wolf in a world where only wolves and sheep exist. He has this expectation instilled at an early age by his father but discovers, rather bluntly, that he is, in fact, just another sheep. That was effectively done... genuinely stark. And the priest who burns his own church down was pretty interesting. But otherwise, I just didn't connect with these characters and always felt that they were mere props from which Seethaler could squeeze every last drop of sadness. It wasn't ever something that was especially engaging. It also doesn't help that I hate vignette books masquerading as novels.
The writing is simplistic, safe, easy, never troubling, and you're left with a very basic premise that, at surface level, seems inspirational and moving but which, in my opinion, is only ever a rather superficial glimpse into what life and death mean to most people. It's not terrible but it's not great. Again, it doesn't help that this book combines two things I hate in literature. 1) vignettes pretending to be a novel by virtue of the fact that the characters lives intertwine and 2) books that are (cynically or not) playing on the heart strings of the reader but without any meaningful insights. Some will be conned by the book, others won't.
It's okay. I would probably still recommend it. But it wasn't anything special.
November 30, 2021
Aynı toprağa gömülü yirmi dokuz hayatın, dağınık gibi görünen ama aslında ince iplerle birbirine bağlı hikayelerini anlatıyor. Bence bu kitabı bu kadar iyi yapan asıl nokta yazarın yazım tercihi. Zira çok basit ve sıradan görünen bir dil ile ölüm, hayat, aşk ve kayıp üzerine oldukça derin bir düşünce zincirinin içine sokuyor okurunuz. Bu kadar ölüm odaklı olmasına karşın sizi dipsiz bir karamsarlığa da atmıyor.
October 17, 2020
...Çim biçme makinesinin takırtılarını duyar gibi olmuştum. Ya da dışarıda kar fırtınası mı vardı yoksa? Sana pencereyi kapatmanı söylemiş miydim? Yarınlardan söz etmiş miydim? Seni seviyorum, demiş miydim? Anımsıyor musun?
//
Çok, çok güzel!
//
Çok, çok güzel!
April 21, 2020
Paulstadt sıradan bir kasaba.
İçerisinde umutları, korkuları, hayalleri ve sırları olanların yaşadığı. Bize kendilerini anlatacaklar şimdi.
Yaşayanlar değil, Paulstadt’ta yaşamış ve şu anda toprağın altında olanlar.
Nasıl ki yaşamlarımız birbirine bir şekilde bağlı, ölümlerimiz de görünmeyen bağlara sahip aslında.
Ve bir kasaba bunu göstermek için iyi bir tercih..
.
Tütüncü Çırağı ve Bütün Bir Ömür eserlerini çok sevdiğim yazarın bu eseri de beni şaşırtmadı. Her bir karakter ayrı bir öyküye sahip görünürken; birbirine dokunuyor çünkü. Ve kitaptan kopamıyorsunuz.
Bazen savaşın gölgesinde kalmış bir çocuk, bazen kocasının ellerini düşünerek son nefesini veren bir kadın..
.
Çeviride her çalışmasını beğenerek okuduğum usta isim Regaip Minareci yer alırken; çorak görünen ama içindeki renkleri müjdeleyen kapak tasarımı ise Barış Şehri çalışması~
İçerisinde umutları, korkuları, hayalleri ve sırları olanların yaşadığı. Bize kendilerini anlatacaklar şimdi.
Yaşayanlar değil, Paulstadt’ta yaşamış ve şu anda toprağın altında olanlar.
Nasıl ki yaşamlarımız birbirine bir şekilde bağlı, ölümlerimiz de görünmeyen bağlara sahip aslında.
Ve bir kasaba bunu göstermek için iyi bir tercih..
.
Tütüncü Çırağı ve Bütün Bir Ömür eserlerini çok sevdiğim yazarın bu eseri de beni şaşırtmadı. Her bir karakter ayrı bir öyküye sahip görünürken; birbirine dokunuyor çünkü. Ve kitaptan kopamıyorsunuz.
Bazen savaşın gölgesinde kalmış bir çocuk, bazen kocasının ellerini düşünerek son nefesini veren bir kadın..
.
Çeviride her çalışmasını beğenerek okuduğum usta isim Regaip Minareci yer alırken; çorak görünen ama içindeki renkleri müjdeleyen kapak tasarımı ise Barış Şehri çalışması~
April 20, 2022
Seethaleris yra viena iš mano gyvenimo meilių. Jo knyga „Visas gyvenimas“ yra amžiams įrašyta į mylimiausių sąrašą, ji man artima, sava ir brangi širdžiai. Aš dar vis laukiu dienos, kai ateis noras ją skaityti dar kartą. Tad nenuostabu, jog cyptelėjau pamačius anonsą, jog netrukus pasirodys dar viena mylimo rašytojo knyga. O ar norisi krykštaut perskaičius knygą? Nelabai…
„Kai artėji prie pabaigos, labai daug kas pasidaro neoru. Beveik viskas, tiesą sakant.“
Šįkart Seethaleris renkasi pasakoti ne apie gyvuosius, o apie mirusius. Nes juk visi mirę kadaise gyveno. Visi kažkaip gyveno, tad būtent apie jų gyvenimus ir skaitome. Tai be galo fragmentiška, tarsi vientiso siužeto neturinti knyga, tačiau tuo pat metu supranti, kad visi romane susiję. Istorija mus nukelia į Paulštato miestelio kapines ir į jų dalį, vadinamą Lauku, kur ilsisi amžiams atgulę miestelio gyventojai, tačiau yra trumpam prikeliami – tam, kad papasakotų apie svarbiausias savo gyvenimo akimirkas. Jie keliauja prisiminimais, dalinasi savo patirtimi. Apsvarsto gyvenimo pasirinkimus, matuoja, ar vienus ar kitur padarė pakankamai. Mintimis perbėga atminties labirintais.
„Įsimylėjimas – tai uždegimas. Kad įveiktum save ir paimtum ją už rankos, kainuoja daugiau pastangų nei vėliau, kad prieš ją nuogai nusirengtum.“
Nesu didelė tokių knygų mėgėja. Fragmentiškumas man neleidžia įsijausti, o nemažas skaičius veikėjų trukdo spėti juos pamilti. Tačiau be viso to, norisi pagirti autorių už tai, kaip puikiai jis sukuria kiekvienai savo knygai atmosferą. Ir būtent dėl to skaitymo malonumas nedingsta, fragmentiškumas jo neatima. Poetiška, rami, jauki knyga, tik ne man. Bet esu tikra – ja mėgausis tie, kuriems patiko „Prižiūrėtojas“ ar net „Bėgūnai“.
Leidyklos dovana.
„Kai artėji prie pabaigos, labai daug kas pasidaro neoru. Beveik viskas, tiesą sakant.“
Šįkart Seethaleris renkasi pasakoti ne apie gyvuosius, o apie mirusius. Nes juk visi mirę kadaise gyveno. Visi kažkaip gyveno, tad būtent apie jų gyvenimus ir skaitome. Tai be galo fragmentiška, tarsi vientiso siužeto neturinti knyga, tačiau tuo pat metu supranti, kad visi romane susiję. Istorija mus nukelia į Paulštato miestelio kapines ir į jų dalį, vadinamą Lauku, kur ilsisi amžiams atgulę miestelio gyventojai, tačiau yra trumpam prikeliami – tam, kad papasakotų apie svarbiausias savo gyvenimo akimirkas. Jie keliauja prisiminimais, dalinasi savo patirtimi. Apsvarsto gyvenimo pasirinkimus, matuoja, ar vienus ar kitur padarė pakankamai. Mintimis perbėga atminties labirintais.
„Įsimylėjimas – tai uždegimas. Kad įveiktum save ir paimtum ją už rankos, kainuoja daugiau pastangų nei vėliau, kad prieš ją nuogai nusirengtum.“
Nesu didelė tokių knygų mėgėja. Fragmentiškumas man neleidžia įsijausti, o nemažas skaičius veikėjų trukdo spėti juos pamilti. Tačiau be viso to, norisi pagirti autorių už tai, kaip puikiai jis sukuria kiekvienai savo knygai atmosferą. Ir būtent dėl to skaitymo malonumas nedingsta, fragmentiškumas jo neatima. Poetiška, rami, jauki knyga, tik ne man. Bet esu tikra – ja mėgausis tie, kuriems patiko „Prižiūrėtojas“ ar net „Bėgūnai“.
Leidyklos dovana.
July 6, 2022
Čudna knjiga, nekako spora, pitoma, uvuče te u sebe, u živote ljudi, u njihove uspomene, misli, toliko da sam razmišljala šta bi ljudi oko mene odabrali kao uspomenu, šta bi umrli kojih se sjećam ispričali?! Neke priče su mi se toliko svidjele, da sam prvi put od kada čitam (a to je baš dug period), htjela da podvučem pojedine djelove, da ih upijem, upamtim, ne znam ni sama zašto! Sve u svemu, sve su mi priče nekako jednostavno ispričane, a u drugu ruku dirljive, komplikovane, melanholične, teške, lijepe, ljubavne, ali takav je valjda i sam život, pa šta ima ja tu da zamjeram?! 5⭐️ za Zetalera, ispravljam komentar, jer i dan danas se vraćam nekim pričama!
June 6, 2023
"Gyvam galvoti apie mirtį. Mirusiam kalbėti apie gyvenimą. Kokia prasmė? Nė vienas apie kitą nieko neišmano. Esama nuojautų. Ir esama prisiminimų. Bet ir viena, ir kita gali klaidinti."
Ar žinote tą jausmą, kai ekstremalioje situacijoje, sako, visas gyvenimas prabėga pro akis? Vis mąstau, kad kelias tokias esu apturėjus, bet niekaip neiškrapščiau, kas ten konkrečiai bėgo pro tas akis. Įvairiausi ėjusio gyvenimo vaizdiniai.
Ir todėl visad visad baugu ir keista, ir smalsu, kas lieka tose pasutinėse minutėse. Ar tai, kas svarbu, ar visokie galvoj tūnoję ir užmiršti svarbūs įvykiai, o gal menkniekiai, ar skauduliai, ar džiaugsmingos akimirkos? O šioje knygoje, net ne paskutinę akimirką, bet tada, kai jau viskas pasibaigę, iš kapų mums istorijas pasakoja miestelio gyventojai.
Įdomiausia tai, kad Paulštatas, miestelis, čia kone pagrindinis, neryškus, bet visus vienijantis veikėjas. Per miestelio gyventojų istorijas gali pajaust jo atmosferą, užuost kvapus, vaikščiot skersgatviais, pamatyt iš dangaus krentančius pelenus, sudegus bažnyčiai, ar užuost šviežių vaisių ir daržovių kvapus, sklindančius iš parduotuvės.
Knyga liūdna, ilgesinga, nostalgiška, o autoriaus lakoniškas stilius toks paprastas, bet pilnas jausmo ir lengvumo.
Jau trečia skaityta autoriaus knyga, klausyti interviu, ir, matyt, jau galiu sakyt, kad įsirašau į gerbėjų gretas.
Ši knyga mane turi. 💛
Ar žinote tą jausmą, kai ekstremalioje situacijoje, sako, visas gyvenimas prabėga pro akis? Vis mąstau, kad kelias tokias esu apturėjus, bet niekaip neiškrapščiau, kas ten konkrečiai bėgo pro tas akis. Įvairiausi ėjusio gyvenimo vaizdiniai.
Ir todėl visad visad baugu ir keista, ir smalsu, kas lieka tose pasutinėse minutėse. Ar tai, kas svarbu, ar visokie galvoj tūnoję ir užmiršti svarbūs įvykiai, o gal menkniekiai, ar skauduliai, ar džiaugsmingos akimirkos? O šioje knygoje, net ne paskutinę akimirką, bet tada, kai jau viskas pasibaigę, iš kapų mums istorijas pasakoja miestelio gyventojai.
Įdomiausia tai, kad Paulštatas, miestelis, čia kone pagrindinis, neryškus, bet visus vienijantis veikėjas. Per miestelio gyventojų istorijas gali pajaust jo atmosferą, užuost kvapus, vaikščiot skersgatviais, pamatyt iš dangaus krentančius pelenus, sudegus bažnyčiai, ar užuost šviežių vaisių ir daržovių kvapus, sklindančius iš parduotuvės.
Knyga liūdna, ilgesinga, nostalgiška, o autoriaus lakoniškas stilius toks paprastas, bet pilnas jausmo ir lengvumo.
Jau trečia skaityta autoriaus knyga, klausyti interviu, ir, matyt, jau galiu sakyt, kad įsirašau į gerbėjų gretas.
Ši knyga mane turi. 💛
March 12, 2025
Yazarla ilk tanışmam. Bir mezarlıkta yatan ölülerin hikayelerini anlatıyor bize kendi ağızlarından. Anlatılan bir kasaba mezarlığı olduğu için ister istemez bazılarının yolları kesişiyor. Tam anlamıyla bir bütünlük sağlanmasa bile bazı bağlantılarla anlatılanlar daha anlamlı hale geliyor. Bu parlak çıkış fikrini daha da iyi kılan unsur ise karakterlerin aynı şekilde konuşmamaları. Çok karakter olduğu bir metinde herkesi ayrı ayrı konuşturmak benim nezdimde iyi yazarlığın en büyük göstergelerinden birisi. Metne dair eleştirim ise anlatılan hikayelerinin çoğunun yeterince etkileyici olmaması. Aralarında birkaç karakterin hikayesi çok iyiyken diğerleri orta karar. Bu da bu kadar iyi tasarlanıp yazılmış metnin elini zayıflatıyor. Buna rağmen Toprak nereden bakarsak bakalım iyi bir roman. Yazarın diğer kitaplarını da okuyacağım.
March 8, 2022
Jau buvau primiršus koks nuostabus yra Seethaler. Nelabai bepamenu apie ką jo iki tol skaitytos knygos, bet puikiai atsimenu jausmą - ramybę, jaukumą ir begalinį grožį. Apie knygų estetiką atskirai nedaugžodžiausiu - nuostabios ir tiek.
"Laukas" - tai kapinės mažo Paulštato miestelio pakraštyje. Čia ilsisi mūsų knygos herojai ir pasakoja savo gyvenimo istorijas. Vienų jų istorijos vos keli sakiniai ar žodžiai, kitų gerokai ilgesnės ir labiau komplikuotos, bet visų įdomios. Nuostabu stebėti kaip kiekvieno pasakotojo gyvenimas susimezga į tankią ir vientisą miestelio istoriją, kaip vieno gyvenimas turėjo įtakos kitam ar kaip vienas matė savo gyvenimą, o kitas, gyvenęs, šalia viską išgyveno kardinaliai kitaip. Tai pasakojimas apie gyvenimą ir mirtį, apie prasmę ir gilius išgyvenimus. Pasakojimai be galo spalvoti, nes kontingentas įvairus: jaunimas, senimas, turtuoliai, vargšai.
Taip parašyti sugeba tik Seetheler. Jis tikrai yra vienas iš Baltų lankų leidyklos autorių brangakmenių. Tas tylus, ramus tonas, išmintis ir grožis yra tai, ką aš labai vertinu ir randu autoriaus knygose. Ypač šiuo sunkiu metu labai kviečiu paskaityti, nes tai gali būti atpalaiduojanti, rami ir savaip graži meditacija. Rekomenduoju.
"Laukas" - tai kapinės mažo Paulštato miestelio pakraštyje. Čia ilsisi mūsų knygos herojai ir pasakoja savo gyvenimo istorijas. Vienų jų istorijos vos keli sakiniai ar žodžiai, kitų gerokai ilgesnės ir labiau komplikuotos, bet visų įdomios. Nuostabu stebėti kaip kiekvieno pasakotojo gyvenimas susimezga į tankią ir vientisą miestelio istoriją, kaip vieno gyvenimas turėjo įtakos kitam ar kaip vienas matė savo gyvenimą, o kitas, gyvenęs, šalia viską išgyveno kardinaliai kitaip. Tai pasakojimas apie gyvenimą ir mirtį, apie prasmę ir gilius išgyvenimus. Pasakojimai be galo spalvoti, nes kontingentas įvairus: jaunimas, senimas, turtuoliai, vargšai.
Taip parašyti sugeba tik Seetheler. Jis tikrai yra vienas iš Baltų lankų leidyklos autorių brangakmenių. Tas tylus, ramus tonas, išmintis ir grožis yra tai, ką aš labai vertinu ir randu autoriaus knygose. Ypač šiuo sunkiu metu labai kviečiu paskaityti, nes tai gali būti atpalaiduojanti, rami ir savaip graži meditacija. Rekomenduoju.
July 4, 2020
Seethaler Türkçe külliyatını bu kitapla tamamladım sanırım. Okuduğum bu üçüncü kitabıyla açık bir şekilde söylüyorum ki asla hayal kırıklığına uğramayan, her defasında
Okuyucusuna yeni ufuklar açan ve değişik duygulara sürükleyen çok güçlü bir kalem.
Bu kitabıyla 29 adet mezarından pişmanlık, endişe ve üzüntü anlatan insan okuyoruz, yer yer ürkünç yer yer rahatsız edici. Ama kesinlikle okunmalı.
Seethaler ile bu kitabıyla tanışabilirsiniz, ya da Tütüncü çırağı belki daha iyi olur ama mutlaka tanışmalısınız.
Keyifli okumalar!
Okuyucusuna yeni ufuklar açan ve değişik duygulara sürükleyen çok güçlü bir kalem.
Bu kitabıyla 29 adet mezarından pişmanlık, endişe ve üzüntü anlatan insan okuyoruz, yer yer ürkünç yer yer rahatsız edici. Ama kesinlikle okunmalı.
Seethaler ile bu kitabıyla tanışabilirsiniz, ya da Tütüncü çırağı belki daha iyi olur ama mutlaka tanışmalısınız.
Keyifli okumalar!
July 7, 2021
"İnsanın ancak ölümü geride bıraktıktan sonra yaşamı hakkında kesin bir yargıya varabileceğini düşünüyordu."
🌟
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October 10, 2020
Robert Seethaler fazla çaba harcamıyormuş gibi görünüp çok şey anlatan tarzıyla etkileyen yazarlardan. Toprak’taki öykülerindeki karakterlerinin her biri mezarlarından seslenirken yaşamın özünü yakalamaya çalışıyorlar. Ölüm, yaşamın anlamı, günlük hayat, yaşam kavgası, yoksulluk, sevgi arayışı, bir arada kalma çabalarının zorluğu, çiftler ve ebeveynler, bir yanda taşra sıkıntıları, bir yanda insan kaygılarının evrenselliği ve yaşama dair birçok unsuru içinde barındıran, bazılarının birbirine bağlı olmasını da çok sevdiğim öyküler şimdiden içimde yer etti.
July 14, 2018
»Der Tod kommt wie ein Wind. Er trägt dich fort.« — Eindringlich, melancholisch, leise lauschen wir mit Seethaler den Geschichten der Toten.
Robert Seethaler konnte mich letztes Jahr mit seinem Roman „Ein ganzes Leben“ so dermaßen überzeugen, dass ich richtiggehend gehyped war, als ich gesehen habe, dass ein neuer Roman von ihm erscheint. Als ich dann noch den Klappentext gelesen hatte, war alles klar. „Das Feld“ und ich, wir mussten und auf ein Stelldichein treffen. Als es dann endlich soweit war, habe ich dieses Buch verschlungen, wie ich lange keines mehr verschlungen habe. Trotzdem bleibt irgendwie ein leichter, fahler Nachgeschmack. Doch erstmal zum Anfang: Ein alter Mann setzt sich auf „seine“ Bank, eine Bank auf dem Friedhof Paulstadts. Es schien ihm stets so, als würden die Toten ihm seine Geschichten zuflüstern — und genau das geschieht auch. Also, ob sie wirklich flüstern, wissen wir natürlich nicht, dafür tauchen wir ein in die Gedankenwelt vieler ehemaliger Dorfbewohner und erfahren, was sie wohl nach ihrem Ableben so denken würden. Philosophieren sie, sinnieren sie über ihr gelebtes Leben? Bereuen sie Dinge? Sind sie wütend, traurig, sehnen sie sich nach dem Leben zurück? Nach und nach lernen wir einiges über Paulstadt — einem kleinen, verschlafenen Städtchen — und seinen Bewohnern. All die kleinen Portraits verweben sich zu einem großen Ganzen und stellen dem Leser wichtige Fragen: Was macht ein Leben aus? Wann hast du wirklich „gut gelebt“, gibt es so etwas überhaupt?
"Im Grunde genommen verstehe ich ja nichts von der Liebe, und vom Leben weiß ich nur, dass man es zu leben hat. Aber immerhin habe ich jetzt vom Sterben eine Ahnung: Es beendet die Sehnsucht, und wenn man stillhält, tut es gar nicht weh."
Ich liebe Robert Seethalers Sprache. So viel sei schon mal gesagt. Bereits letztes Jahr erfuhr ich, wie gut Literatur sein kann (Stichwort Ein ganzes Leben). Sein neuer Roman könnte glatt eine Fortsetzung zum „ganzen Leben“ sein, vielleicht gar im selben Örtchen spielen. Die Atmosphäre ist so leise und gefühlvoll, aber dennoch eindringlich. Auf dem Friedhof von Paulstadt scheinen so viele herrliche Geschichten verborgen zu sein, denen man einfach nur lauschen möchte. Vom langjährigen Bürgermeister, der treuen Ehefrau, dem Pfarrer, der die Kirche in Brand gesteckt hat, über den Ehemann, den man sowieso stets verachtet hat — alle liegen sie hier Seite an Seite, und Seethaler gewährt uns einen Einblick in die Rückschau einiger ausgewählter Paulstädter. Diese Gedankenfetzen geben uns in den meisten Fällen trotz ihrer Kürze einen prägnanten Eindruck der Personen und auch wenn man gerade erst ein neues Kapitel begonnen hat, kann man sich sofort einfühlen.
Das gesamte Buch hindurch hatte ich auf fast jeder Seite den Wunsch, Sätze oder auch ganze Abschnitte dick zu unterstreichen oder einzukringeln. Das schafft glaube ich auch nur Seethaler. Obwohl es sich nicht immer um wunderbare Lebensgeschichten handelt, sondern durchaus auch bereut wird oder das Leben von Streitigkeiten und Feindseligkeit geprägt wurde, ist „Das Feld“ jedoch nie bedrückend oder deprimierend, denn eines macht Seethaler klar: Was vergangen ist, ist vergangen. Es ist schön, in Erinnerungen zu schwelgen, doch Überlegungen, „was wäre wenn…“ füllen vielleicht ein Buch, führen aber zu nichts. Und so lässt Seethaler seine Figuren nicht das „was wäre wenn“-Spiel spielen, sondern schenkt ihnen einige letzte Momente aus ihrer vergangenen Zeit.
Die vollständige Rezension findet ihr auf meinem Blog: https://killmonotony.de/rezension/rob...
Robert Seethaler konnte mich letztes Jahr mit seinem Roman „Ein ganzes Leben“ so dermaßen überzeugen, dass ich richtiggehend gehyped war, als ich gesehen habe, dass ein neuer Roman von ihm erscheint. Als ich dann noch den Klappentext gelesen hatte, war alles klar. „Das Feld“ und ich, wir mussten und auf ein Stelldichein treffen. Als es dann endlich soweit war, habe ich dieses Buch verschlungen, wie ich lange keines mehr verschlungen habe. Trotzdem bleibt irgendwie ein leichter, fahler Nachgeschmack. Doch erstmal zum Anfang: Ein alter Mann setzt sich auf „seine“ Bank, eine Bank auf dem Friedhof Paulstadts. Es schien ihm stets so, als würden die Toten ihm seine Geschichten zuflüstern — und genau das geschieht auch. Also, ob sie wirklich flüstern, wissen wir natürlich nicht, dafür tauchen wir ein in die Gedankenwelt vieler ehemaliger Dorfbewohner und erfahren, was sie wohl nach ihrem Ableben so denken würden. Philosophieren sie, sinnieren sie über ihr gelebtes Leben? Bereuen sie Dinge? Sind sie wütend, traurig, sehnen sie sich nach dem Leben zurück? Nach und nach lernen wir einiges über Paulstadt — einem kleinen, verschlafenen Städtchen — und seinen Bewohnern. All die kleinen Portraits verweben sich zu einem großen Ganzen und stellen dem Leser wichtige Fragen: Was macht ein Leben aus? Wann hast du wirklich „gut gelebt“, gibt es so etwas überhaupt?
"Im Grunde genommen verstehe ich ja nichts von der Liebe, und vom Leben weiß ich nur, dass man es zu leben hat. Aber immerhin habe ich jetzt vom Sterben eine Ahnung: Es beendet die Sehnsucht, und wenn man stillhält, tut es gar nicht weh."
Ich liebe Robert Seethalers Sprache. So viel sei schon mal gesagt. Bereits letztes Jahr erfuhr ich, wie gut Literatur sein kann (Stichwort Ein ganzes Leben). Sein neuer Roman könnte glatt eine Fortsetzung zum „ganzen Leben“ sein, vielleicht gar im selben Örtchen spielen. Die Atmosphäre ist so leise und gefühlvoll, aber dennoch eindringlich. Auf dem Friedhof von Paulstadt scheinen so viele herrliche Geschichten verborgen zu sein, denen man einfach nur lauschen möchte. Vom langjährigen Bürgermeister, der treuen Ehefrau, dem Pfarrer, der die Kirche in Brand gesteckt hat, über den Ehemann, den man sowieso stets verachtet hat — alle liegen sie hier Seite an Seite, und Seethaler gewährt uns einen Einblick in die Rückschau einiger ausgewählter Paulstädter. Diese Gedankenfetzen geben uns in den meisten Fällen trotz ihrer Kürze einen prägnanten Eindruck der Personen und auch wenn man gerade erst ein neues Kapitel begonnen hat, kann man sich sofort einfühlen.
Das gesamte Buch hindurch hatte ich auf fast jeder Seite den Wunsch, Sätze oder auch ganze Abschnitte dick zu unterstreichen oder einzukringeln. Das schafft glaube ich auch nur Seethaler. Obwohl es sich nicht immer um wunderbare Lebensgeschichten handelt, sondern durchaus auch bereut wird oder das Leben von Streitigkeiten und Feindseligkeit geprägt wurde, ist „Das Feld“ jedoch nie bedrückend oder deprimierend, denn eines macht Seethaler klar: Was vergangen ist, ist vergangen. Es ist schön, in Erinnerungen zu schwelgen, doch Überlegungen, „was wäre wenn…“ füllen vielleicht ein Buch, führen aber zu nichts. Und so lässt Seethaler seine Figuren nicht das „was wäre wenn“-Spiel spielen, sondern schenkt ihnen einige letzte Momente aus ihrer vergangenen Zeit.
Die vollständige Rezension findet ihr auf meinem Blog: https://killmonotony.de/rezension/rob...
November 6, 2021
''Polje'' je jedna od onih knjiga koje prosto ne smeš da ostaviš na pola jer ćeš toliko toga propustiti, a ujedno i samu ideju ove knjige koja je u globalu potpuno drugačija i unikatna. Posle prve polovine mislio sam da knjiga nije ono što sam ja očekivao od nje, ali zato me je druga polovina knjige potpuno oduvala.
Dakle, u pitanju je 29 priča koje pričaju mrtvi. Polje je groblje jednog malog austrijskog grada Paulštata, te tih 29 glasova govore o svojim danima provedenim u tom gradiću. Baš kako se i očekuje, oni pričaju po neku epizodu iz svog života, a kroz celu knjigu saznajemo koliko su zapravo njihovi životi isprepletani ne samo između sebe, već i utkani u sam grad Paulštat. Svaka priča ima drugačiji narativni tok, što samo pokazuje koliko je Zetaler zapravo sjajan pisac jer može na toliko načina da prenese emocije.
Oduševljen sam koliko tema može da pokriva jedna knjižica od 180 strana. Ne samo da je tema odnos života i smrti, pitanje kako svako od nas doživljava život a kako doživljava smrt, već su tu i sociološke i političke teme koje su protkane kroz ovih 29 priča. Tu je takođe i sam Paulštat kao motiv koji povezuje sve njih i zbog koga ova knjiga i ovo groblje postoje. Svako od žitelja je imao svoje muke, svoje probleme, svoje tuge i radosti - baš kao i svi mi. Tu je gradonačelnik koji iz svoje perspektive priča kako je to bilo voditi ovaj grad, Suzana koja je shvatila da smrt ne ide redom, dve užasne nesreće koje su se desile koje su odnele nekoliko života, najstarija žiteljka čija će nas priča naterati da razmislimo da li je predugačak život bolji od jako kratkog. Knjiga koja govori koliko smo svi različiti, a da nas zapravo sve čeka ista sudbina na kraju. Motiv ciklusa je takođe dosta dominantan; baš kao i ciklus života, i ovaj roman je jedan ciklus koje povezuje prva i poslednja priča.
Neverovatna knjiga. Jedna od retkih koja mi je potpuno preokrenula mišljenje od prvih strana do poslednjih. Ako je uzmete u ruke, obavezno pročitajte do kraja.
Dakle, u pitanju je 29 priča koje pričaju mrtvi. Polje je groblje jednog malog austrijskog grada Paulštata, te tih 29 glasova govore o svojim danima provedenim u tom gradiću. Baš kako se i očekuje, oni pričaju po neku epizodu iz svog života, a kroz celu knjigu saznajemo koliko su zapravo njihovi životi isprepletani ne samo između sebe, već i utkani u sam grad Paulštat. Svaka priča ima drugačiji narativni tok, što samo pokazuje koliko je Zetaler zapravo sjajan pisac jer može na toliko načina da prenese emocije.
Oduševljen sam koliko tema može da pokriva jedna knjižica od 180 strana. Ne samo da je tema odnos života i smrti, pitanje kako svako od nas doživljava život a kako doživljava smrt, već su tu i sociološke i političke teme koje su protkane kroz ovih 29 priča. Tu je takođe i sam Paulštat kao motiv koji povezuje sve njih i zbog koga ova knjiga i ovo groblje postoje. Svako od žitelja je imao svoje muke, svoje probleme, svoje tuge i radosti - baš kao i svi mi. Tu je gradonačelnik koji iz svoje perspektive priča kako je to bilo voditi ovaj grad, Suzana koja je shvatila da smrt ne ide redom, dve užasne nesreće koje su se desile koje su odnele nekoliko života, najstarija žiteljka čija će nas priča naterati da razmislimo da li je predugačak život bolji od jako kratkog. Knjiga koja govori koliko smo svi različiti, a da nas zapravo sve čeka ista sudbina na kraju. Motiv ciklusa je takođe dosta dominantan; baš kao i ciklus života, i ovaj roman je jedan ciklus koje povezuje prva i poslednja priča.
Neverovatna knjiga. Jedna od retkih koja mi je potpuno preokrenula mišljenje od prvih strana do poslednjih. Ako je uzmete u ruke, obavezno pročitajte do kraja.
August 1, 2024
“Препоручујем гробље као место опоравка,” рече Поље Алисином
Бекству.
🔥🕌🔥
Књижевни минимализам који лапидарно (као минус поступак) претвара у плус, у ненаметљив, али глагољив декор, паролу “мање је више”, а не у звекет празнине – или можда баш у ту испразност гробова, у пуко поље, акцентујући природност (смрти), циклус кружења материје и – смем ли због баба ванги рећи – протицања енергије. Људски животи су безначајне тривије скупљене на неколико страна по глави становника, нису ништа друго до фрагментарно, офуцано сећање чија сврха је била да обезбеди тзв. осећање личног интегритета, свест о томе да смо иста особа у четвртој димензији. Полифонијска, мултифокална нарација венчава садржину са формом; тај махом атеистички, а свакако профани жамор и потцртана фикционалност, бојим се да су тешка пилула за богобојажљиву светину која ставља шапе на ове редове. Роберте, фркни те бисере овамо! Зашто да ненападна, ноншалантна лепеза стилова, променљив ритам и манир, тај надреални преплет слика на једном и квазидијалог на другом месту, буду ипак под стрехом стаје?
“[Ч]итавог живота се сећам само кроз вео туге.”
“Желим зими да будем жаба. Жабе зими живе, а опет и не живе. Замишљам како се све на њима кочи: ноге, стомак, глава. Очи су им хладно, жуто камење. Замишљам како се крв у жабљим венама мрзне и при сваком покрету пуца и шкрипи. Лети је другачије, тада жабе пулсирају, а тела су им чврста и истовремено мека. Увек их хватам за ноге. Онда висе, окрећу се и грче. Нећу ти ништа, кажем, слободно можеш да наставиш даље. Жабе ништа не кажу. Погледам их, па их у високом луку бацим у језеро, чује се бућ и више их нема.”
🎵 Sleeping Bear - All That You Love Will Be Carried Away
🔥🕌🔥
Књижевни минимализам који лапидарно (као минус поступак) претвара у плус, у ненаметљив, али глагољив декор, паролу “мање је више”, а не у звекет празнине – или можда баш у ту испразност гробова, у пуко поље, акцентујући природност (смрти), циклус кружења материје и – смем ли због баба ванги рећи – протицања енергије. Људски животи су безначајне тривије скупљене на неколико страна по глави становника, нису ништа друго до фрагментарно, офуцано сећање чија сврха је била да обезбеди тзв. осећање личног интегритета, свест о томе да смо иста особа у четвртој димензији. Полифонијска, мултифокална нарација венчава садржину са формом; тај махом атеистички, а свакако профани жамор и потцртана фикционалност, бојим се да су тешка пилула за богобојажљиву светину која ставља шапе на ове редове. Роберте, фркни те бисере овамо! Зашто да ненападна, ноншалантна лепеза стилова, променљив ритам и манир, тај надреални преплет слика на једном и квазидијалог на другом месту, буду ипак под стрехом стаје?
“[Ч]итавог живота се сећам само кроз вео туге.”
“Желим зими да будем жаба. Жабе зими живе, а опет и не живе. Замишљам како се све на њима кочи: ноге, стомак, глава. Очи су им хладно, жуто камење. Замишљам како се крв у жабљим венама мрзне и при сваком покрету пуца и шкрипи. Лети је другачије, тада жабе пулсирају, а тела су им чврста и истовремено мека. Увек их хватам за ноге. Онда висе, окрећу се и грче. Нећу ти ништа, кажем, слободно можеш да наставиш даље. Жабе ништа не кажу. Погледам их, па их у високом луку бацим у језеро, чује се бућ и више их нема.”
🎵 Sleeping Bear - All That You Love Will Be Carried Away
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