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Jokerman: Roman
»Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune ...« Bob Dylan
- GenresRoman
352 pages, Hardcover
Published August 3, 2020
1 person is currently reading
32 people want to read
About the author
Stefan Kutzenberger
11 books15 followersStefan Kutzenberger, geboren 1971 in Linz, lebt als vergleichender Literaturwissenschaftler, Kurator und Schriftsteller in Wien.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
November 22, 2020
Is there a better way to look for meaning than in literature, art and music? I've never thought so. Where else to find new ideas and interpretations, discoveries and experiences, beliefs and perspectives that we could hardly get even if we were the most well-travelled, cosmopolitan person in the world? But art should also come with a warning label: if you look too deeply for meaning, you will end up enmeshed in conspiracy theory, prophesies, and a mess of cyclical repetitions of events that end up signifying nothing - or a Dan Brown novel. Jokerman is about one man's farcical journey into the realm of conspiracy theories based on the lyrics and statements made by Bob Dylan over decades of recordings and concerts. Supposedly, Dylan prophesied 9/11, Trump's election win in 2016 against Hillary as well as Trump's demise in 2020, even pointing out the people who would be elemental in carrying out these history-defining acts. I enjoyed the novel at first because it was clever and entertaining, but then as I got into it, I admired its form and structure that aligned to the messages that I was taking away from it. Namely, that second chances are redeeming for those who recognise them, and that you can shed the old and look forward to the new without committing murder. It left conspiracy theory safely in the dust (I think), and probably means I don't have to kill my ex.
There are loads of other ideas, symbols, and coincidental references that intrigued me. Not least, that Kutzenberger alludes to a Facebook friend that we both have in common (yes, he accepted my invitation on Facebook) who shares a geneological connection with Melania Trump. The other thing I kept thinking of is a quote by the somewhat controversial German poet Stefan George which I used in 1990 to open a notebook of favourite literary quotes which I've kept going ever since. The quote, from German, is this: "People enjoy seeking out what they refer to as the "real meaning" behind a poem. They are like monkeys, who also always grapple behind mirrors with their hands, as if something must be there to grab on to." I've always held onto this as a warning to myself to be critically aware of what appears to be real and to be careful in how I ascribe meaning to things. A case in point: my freshman year of college I wrote an embarrassing paper interpreting a poem about the "The Heavy Bear that Goes with Me" as a phallic metaphor with the virginal naivety of a stick-figure drawing. It also reminded me of Kutzenberger's repeated mention of Kafka's "The Trees" in this novel, and how everything is just "appearance" in the end anyway. So much for me finding a comfortable interpretation of reality. But who ever said that comfort and understanding go together? Probably Trump supporters.
Since I finished the novel yesterday I've been researching online and reading more about Stefan George. You could probably ascribe some prophesies and conspiracy theory to his works, too. After all, he was also followed by a quasi-sycophantic group of disciples who counted among them the Von Stauffenbergs, of foiled Hitler assassination plot fame. Here's one of George's poems which has been viewed as a foreshadowing of Nazism but could equally be applied to the rise of Trumpism. Like the novel Jokerman, it also talks of the resurrection - but very decidedly the other way around (damnation as opposed to salvation) Coincidence? Compare it to Dylan's "Man of Peace" -- go on. It's the same thing!
The Anti-Christ
He comes from the mountain, he stands in the grove!
Our own eyes have seen it: the wine that he wove
From water, the corpses he wakens.
O could you but hear it, at midnight my laugh:
My hour is striking; come step in my trap;
Now into my net stream the fishes.
The masses mass madder, both numbskull and sage;
They root up the arbors, they trample the grain;
Make way for the new Resurrected.
I’ll do for you everything heaven can do.
A hair-breadth is lacking – your gape too confused
To sense that your senses are stricken.
I make it all facile, the rare and the earned;
Here’s something like gold (I create it from dirt)
And something like scent, sap, and spices –
And what the great prophet himself never dared:
The art without sowing to reap out of air
The powers still lying fallow.
The Lord of the Flies is expanding his Reich;
All treasures, all blessings are swelling his might . . .
Down, down with the handful who doubt him!
Cheer louder, you dupes of the ambush of hell;
What’s left of life-essence, you squander its spells
And only on doomsday feel paupered.
You’ll hang out your tongues, but the trough has been drained;
You’ll panic like cattle whose farm is ablaze . . .
And dreadful the blast of the trumpet.
(translation by Peter Viereck)
There are loads of other ideas, symbols, and coincidental references that intrigued me. Not least, that Kutzenberger alludes to a Facebook friend that we both have in common (yes, he accepted my invitation on Facebook) who shares a geneological connection with Melania Trump. The other thing I kept thinking of is a quote by the somewhat controversial German poet Stefan George which I used in 1990 to open a notebook of favourite literary quotes which I've kept going ever since. The quote, from German, is this: "People enjoy seeking out what they refer to as the "real meaning" behind a poem. They are like monkeys, who also always grapple behind mirrors with their hands, as if something must be there to grab on to." I've always held onto this as a warning to myself to be critically aware of what appears to be real and to be careful in how I ascribe meaning to things. A case in point: my freshman year of college I wrote an embarrassing paper interpreting a poem about the "The Heavy Bear that Goes with Me" as a phallic metaphor with the virginal naivety of a stick-figure drawing. It also reminded me of Kutzenberger's repeated mention of Kafka's "The Trees" in this novel, and how everything is just "appearance" in the end anyway. So much for me finding a comfortable interpretation of reality. But who ever said that comfort and understanding go together? Probably Trump supporters.
Since I finished the novel yesterday I've been researching online and reading more about Stefan George. You could probably ascribe some prophesies and conspiracy theory to his works, too. After all, he was also followed by a quasi-sycophantic group of disciples who counted among them the Von Stauffenbergs, of foiled Hitler assassination plot fame. Here's one of George's poems which has been viewed as a foreshadowing of Nazism but could equally be applied to the rise of Trumpism. Like the novel Jokerman, it also talks of the resurrection - but very decidedly the other way around (damnation as opposed to salvation) Coincidence? Compare it to Dylan's "Man of Peace" -- go on. It's the same thing!
The Anti-Christ
He comes from the mountain, he stands in the grove!
Our own eyes have seen it: the wine that he wove
From water, the corpses he wakens.
O could you but hear it, at midnight my laugh:
My hour is striking; come step in my trap;
Now into my net stream the fishes.
The masses mass madder, both numbskull and sage;
They root up the arbors, they trample the grain;
Make way for the new Resurrected.
I’ll do for you everything heaven can do.
A hair-breadth is lacking – your gape too confused
To sense that your senses are stricken.
I make it all facile, the rare and the earned;
Here’s something like gold (I create it from dirt)
And something like scent, sap, and spices –
And what the great prophet himself never dared:
The art without sowing to reap out of air
The powers still lying fallow.
The Lord of the Flies is expanding his Reich;
All treasures, all blessings are swelling his might . . .
Down, down with the handful who doubt him!
Cheer louder, you dupes of the ambush of hell;
What’s left of life-essence, you squander its spells
And only on doomsday feel paupered.
You’ll hang out your tongues, but the trough has been drained;
You’ll panic like cattle whose farm is ablaze . . .
And dreadful the blast of the trumpet.
(translation by Peter Viereck)
July 15, 2021
Hä? What the what?
Ich weiß nicht wirklich was ich da gelesen habe aber zugleich weiß ich dass es gut war, denn es wird mich noch ein wenig beschäftigen und zugleich wird es heißen, dass ich dadurch nun deutlich befangener an Dylan-Songs herangehen werde, da mir ständig der Plot dieses Romans im Kopf rumgeistern wird. (So ähnlich lang sind übrigens zu viele Sätze des Buches).
Rushdie, Hillary, Winehouse, Cobain,…sie alle Jünger des Robert Zimmerman? Und inmitten all dem ein durch und durch chaotischer, naiver und zeitweise dämlicher Österreicher? Manchmal hat man keine Ahnung was man da gerade gelesen hat, aber zugleich eine große Ahnung. Wie das eben so ist
Ich weiß nicht wirklich was ich da gelesen habe aber zugleich weiß ich dass es gut war, denn es wird mich noch ein wenig beschäftigen und zugleich wird es heißen, dass ich dadurch nun deutlich befangener an Dylan-Songs herangehen werde, da mir ständig der Plot dieses Romans im Kopf rumgeistern wird. (So ähnlich lang sind übrigens zu viele Sätze des Buches).
Rushdie, Hillary, Winehouse, Cobain,…sie alle Jünger des Robert Zimmerman? Und inmitten all dem ein durch und durch chaotischer, naiver und zeitweise dämlicher Österreicher? Manchmal hat man keine Ahnung was man da gerade gelesen hat, aber zugleich eine große Ahnung. Wie das eben so ist
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 13, 2020
Eine überraschende Reise zwischen Spannung, Selbstreflexion und Humor.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews