جاسوس اول شخص

by Sam Shepard, حمیدرضا رفعت‌نژاد (Translator)

جاسوس اول‌شخص در غرب آمریکا شروع می‌شود، از ایوان خانه‌ای در کنتاکی و از زبان نویسنده‌ای در حال مرگ. او خودش را زیر نظر گرفته، خودش را که بدنی گرفتار شده است در بیماری، اغلب نشسته بر صندلی و مشغولِ سروسامان‌دادن به آخرین افکاری که از ذهنش می‌گذرد. راوی داستان نامی ندارد، ولی از روی برخی شباهت‌ها می‌توان حدس زد که سم شپرد همان راویِ اول‌شخص داستان است. او در آخرین اثرش روایتی مرموز، ویرانگر و موجز نوشته است دربارهٔ نوشتن، خانواده و سرزمینی که الهام‌بخش داستان‌های او بوده است.

راوی با توصیف مردی شروع می‌کند نشسته روی صندلی ننویی وسط ایوان خانه‌ای پررفت‌وآمد؛ و بعد وصف آدم‌ها، خانه، چهرهٔ مرد، آب‌وهوا، حشرات و پرنده‌ها. تصویری شسته‌رفته اما دقیق از مردی بسیار شبیه به او، به‌قول راوی انگار قل دیگرش. مردی با عینک دودی خیره به سرنوشتی که پاره‌پاره به یاد می‌آورد. همین اوایل داستان است که می‌فهمیم راوی بیمار است، زمین‌گیر است و مرضی دارد از پا درش می‌آورد که درمانی ندارد، به همین دلیل است که خودش را زیر نظر گرفته، می‌خواهد بفهمد اوضاع از چه قرار است، چه دارد به سرش می‌آید؟ هرچند نویسنده اشارهٔ مستقیمی به بیماری ایْ. ال. اس نمی‌کند، اما تأکید بر جسمی که از کار می‌افتد اما ذهنی که هنوز در حرکت است بهترین شیوهٔ گفتن از این بیماری است. همان بیماری که سال‌ها ماهیچه‌های بدن استیون هاوکینگ را از کار انداخته بود اما مغزش را نه. سم شپرد البته تا این اندازه خوش‌شانس نبود، بیماری در عرض یکی دو سال او را از پا درآورد.

جاسوس اول‌شخص آخرین داستانی است که سم شپرد، نویسندهٔ برندهٔ جایزهٔ پولیتزر، پیش از مرگ نوشته است. داستانی اتوبیوگرافیک که در سال ۲۰۱۶ شروع به نوشتن آن کرد و در ابتدای سال ۲۰۱۷ از نوشتن آن بازماند، یعنی یک سال پیش از اینکه براثر عوارض بیماری بدنش از کار بیفتد. ویرایش نهایی کار را دوست همواره گرامی‌اش پتی اسمیت انجام داد و سپس کار را به خانوادهٔ او سپرد.

Genres: Fiction, Poetry, Literary Fiction, Drama, Plays, The United States Of America, American

88 pages, Paperback

First published December 5, 2017

About the author

Sam Shepard was an American artist who worked as an award-winning playwright, writer and actor. His many written works are known for being frank and often absurd, as well as for having an authentic sense of the style and sensibility of the gritty modern American west. He was an actor of the stage and motion pictures; a director of stage and film; author of several books of short stories, essays, and memoirs; and a musician.

Reviews

[Diane S ☔ · Rating 4 out of 5]

A man who was extremely talented, incredibly versatile. With these his last words in print, an unnamed narrator takes us through some of his history, things he has seen and thought. His diagnosis, and the way his body betrays him. Wheelchair bound, needing help to do the simplest things, things he could once do easily, he ponders his current situation, and things from the past.

This sounds sad I know, but somehow while it was it slso wasn't. The tone is melancholy for sure, but the writing is gorgeous. I think maybe he had made peace with his life, his condition, looking on it as an observer. Anyway that is the sense I received while reading. He will be missed, in the many different roles he played in his life. My reading his last thoughts was the only tribute I could give to this wonderful man, and the enjoyment he had provided many throughout the years.

ARC from Edelweiss.

[sAmAnE · Rating 4 out of 5]

عالی
کتاب به بررسی موضوعات پیچیده‌ای چون هویت، فریب و روابط انسانی می‌پردازد. داستان در فضایی پرفراز و نشیب رخ می‌دهد و شخصیت‌ها در دنیایی از رازها و ناامیدی‌ها زندگی می‌کنند. داستان حول محور شخصیت اصلی می‌چرخد که یک جاسوس است و به زندگی‌ای پر از دروغ و فریب گرفتار شده است. شخصیت اصلی با چالش‌های اخلاقی و عاطفی مواجه می‌شود که بر روی هویت‌ او تأثیر می‌گذارد. او در تلاش است تا بین واقعیت و توهم تمایز قائل شود و در این مسیر با شخصیت‌های مختلفی روبرو می‌شود که هرکدام دنیای خود را دارند.گذر زمان و تغییرات دائمی در روابط او، باعث می‌شود که شخصیت اصلی درک جدیدی از عشق، وفاداری را پیدا کند.

[Paula Mota]

Fizeram-me todos os exames. Lá no meio do deserto. Do deserto pintado. Terra de apaches. (…) Amostras, cortes transversais. Raios X. Imagens fantasmáticas. E observaram a deterioração e observaram todo o tipo de coisas.

O que mais me cativou neste livro foi o lado humano que envolveu a sua concretização numa altura em que o premiado dramaturgo Sam Shepard já se encontrava num estado avançado de esclerose lateral amiotrófica (ELA). Como Shepard deixou de conseguir dactilografar e de escrever à mão, foi necessária a ajuda dos seus três filhos e das irmãs, além do apoio de Patti Smith, como quem tivera uma relação extraconjugal nos anos 70.

Não sei como suporta a monotonia, para dizer a verdade. Escondido nos arbustos dia após dia após dia após dia após dia após dia após dia a mesma coisa repetidamente. (…) É apenas abelhudo? Porque se importa com a minha monotonia? Aliás, não é a minha monotonia. É também dele. É de ambos. É de toda a gente.

O conceito de “Espião na Primeira Pessoa” é astuto: um homem observa um idoso que vive do outro lado da rua e que passa bastante tempo sentado no alpendre, interrogando-se sobre a sua mobilidade, bem como sobre as idas e vindas das suas visitas, acabando ele mesmo por ser observado. Com o avançar das poucas páginas que constituem esta novela, percebemos quem esses dois homens são e tudo passa a fazer sentido, mas em paralelo temos reminiscências e um discurso em fluxo de consciência que tornam a leitura confusa. Ainda assim, é uma obra de autoficção meritória e pungente.

Exatamente há um ano conseguia guiar atrás da grande divisão entre o Norte e o Sul. Conseguia guiar ao longo da costa. A costa irregular. Conseguia bocejar no deserto. Mais ou menos exatamente há um ano conseguia caminhar com a cabeça levantada. Conseguia ver através do ar. Conseguia limpar o rabo.

[Brian · Rating 3 out of 5]

“My sons didn’t hobble. I hobbled.” (2.5 stars)

This is a short, poetical at times, fictional (although perhaps in moments quasi autobiographical) examination of a body and mind retreating inward and shutting down. Author Sam Shepard wrote it while suffering from ALS, and I believe this text is his attempt at examining/thinking about that process.
It contains pieces and fragments of loosely connected thoughts about aging, children, family history, memories, and illness.

Quotes:
• “Somebody’s waiting for somebody.”
• “Someone wants to know something about me that I don’t even know myself.”
• “That’s the thing about later. You don’t know what’s coming up.”
• “And I’ve never desired to start over again. I have no desire to eliminate parts of myself."
• “Let me start over. I can start over. You’ll allow me to start over please.”
• “The past doesn’t come as a whole. It always comes in parts.”

Overall, SPY OF THE FIRST PERSON is not that interesting, but the writing is intriguing (and at times very good) and since it is only 82 pages that is why I kept reading it. At that short a length, good writing is reason enough to give it a go.

[iva° · Rating 3 out of 5]

ovaj poetični tekst sam shepard dovršio je nekoliko dana prije svoje smrti, uz pomoć svoje obitelji koja je transkribirala dijelove knjige s obzirom da on sam, zbog uznapredovale multiple skleroze, nije mogao pisati.
kroz dvojicu likova - oboljelog muškarca na trijemu u stolcu za ljuljanje i čovjeka koji ga dalekozorom promatra, sam shepard finim tokom scena kao da se oprašta od života. ali oprašta se u miru, ne u grču, ne u boli, ne u otporu. pušta se da ga misli i sjećanja vode kroz prošlost i sadašnjost. ovo je pjesma u prozi, zapravo. vrlo nježno i suptilno.

[Ken · Rating 3 out of 5]

Episodic and stream-of-consciousness in nature, with some snippets very, very good and others just sort of there. My first Sam, so I cannot say where it lands in his oeuvre. The man deserves credit for seeing this under-100 pager through, however. Suffering from the take-no-prisoners and may-God-save-us-all-from ALS, he wound up dictating the final portions of the book. That's going out in style.

[Manuel Alberto Vieira · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ler Sam Shepard é sempre um regresso a casa, mas algo falhou neste retorno. Poderia especular possibilidades, mas fico-me pelo lamento de o último suspiro não estar à altura da vitalidade que lhe temperou todo o percurso. E a tradução (embora pela mão de um artífice que muito considero) falhou na pulsação.

[Jenny (Reading Envy) · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the author's last work, which he drafted and edited up to the day he passed. It is about fragmented but focused on memory, aging, illness, and family ... Now I really need to go back and read his other work.

[Kusaimamekirai · Rating 4 out of 5]

An old man confined to a chair sits on his front porch and reminisces about his life. He does so occasionally to family members who come outside to listen, more often he reminisces alone.
Another man living across the street notices him one day. As time passes he becomes increasingly fixated on who this man is, why he is confined to his chairs, (the chair changes in the story from a rocking chair, to an office chair, to eventually a wheelchair) and what his illness may be.
No longer content to simply watch, he purchased binoculars to see more clearly, until finally he draws up feverish plans to buy the house next door so he can see what this man does in the confines of his own home, imagining the friendship they will have. Watching his life it is fair to say, becomes his life. So much so that their alternating narratives blend together to the point that one is not always sure who is speaking.
The man in the chair notices the man watching him and is both confused and flattered that anyone would be interested in his life.
I won’t try to interpret the dual narrative of the watcher and the watched as I don’t fully understand it but if I had to guess perhaps it’s the old man trying to come to terms with the end of his life while the watcher simply squanders his own?
Such is the “plot” as it were but it would be a mistake to to reduce this story to simply a tale of stalking from afar.
Shepard, who was suffering from ALS, was editing the final drafts of this story right up until the day he died. At first writing, later recording, and finally dictating the changes.
In this sense it is highly autobiographical (the last two chapters drop all semblance of fiction and describe the authors last moments on earth with his family).
It’s the story of Shepard knowing his time is limited and trying say what needs to be said. It’s a deeply affecting story if not a particularly easy one to read.

[Meike]

Sam Shepard wrote his last book with the help of his family and friends, among them his old pal Patti Smith - suffering from ALS, he grew constantly weaker and more immobile, until he had to dictate his texts. His slow death is also the topic of this short volume, in which Shepard hauntingly describes how he experiences his physical decay while he looks back on his life and contemplates the state of the world he now has to leave.

The text, written from the perspective of "First Person" Sam Shepard, is interspersed with chapters crafted from the point of view of an outside "Spy" who gives his impression of the slowly dying man - the spy's real identity (maybe it is even death itself, or Shepard's unconsciousness) remains hidden. The whole text is very emotional, lyrical and full of riddles, giving it a partly cryptic and spiritual air.

I have a special relationship with Shepard - not that I ever actually met him, but his True West was one of the first artistic texts I've ever read in English (it was taught at my German high school). Thus he became one of the authors that inspired me to learn more about both fictional writing and the United States - I am very grateful to you, Mr. Shepard.

[M. Sarki · Rating 4 out of 5]

https://msarki.tumblr.com/post/166647...

The death of Sam Shepard creates a sudden void in the landscape of contemporary literature. This talented writer, dramatist, horseman, actor, and musician leaves as his final gift to those of us fortunate to have known his body of work a thinly veiled memoir of the first rank. In prose reminiscent at times of his good friend Patti Smith, Shepard eventually recounts the last of his precious days on earth surrounded by his loving family and friends. In one poignant sentence Shepard affirms that in a span of one year he went from being a fiercely independent and private wanderer traveling in his pickup truck to a man in a wheelchair who can barely raise his head and cannot possibly wipe his own ass. There is nothing sentimental or self-serving in this book. Shepard’s honesty on the page remains as seething as his life. A testament to one great artist, and for some, a very good friend.

[Nood-Lesse]

È difficile seguire il testo, non si capisce se si tratti di una prima persona reale o fittizia, se quelle esternate siano sensazioni o proiezioni; solo di fronte ai ricordi si hanno alcune labili certezze. Nelle recensioni avevo letto in stampatello l’acronimo maledetto -SLA-, era stato esso a farmi acquistare il libro, volevo comparare le parole, quelle di uno scrittore e quelle di un falegname che aveva scritto con il PC una decina di pagine, una manciata di caratteri al giorno, uno sforzo ciclopico, prima che la malattia si prendesse anche la facoltà residua di premere i tasti con l’indice.
Ho provato a seguire il testo facendomi fare strada dall’acronimo ma nemmeno così sono stato in grado di penetrarlo.
Ogni rielaborazione del dolore merita rispetto, ma se si è avuto a che fare con l’acronimo maledetto, la breve postfazione sarà più impattante delle poche pagine della narrazione.

[Eylül Görmüş · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Sana hiçbir şey ispatlamaya çalışmıyorum. Sana, küçükken olduğuma inandığın baba olduğumu ispatlamaya çalışmıyorum. Bazı hatalar yaptım ama ne olduklarına dair hiçbir fikrim yok. Ve asla baştan başlamayı arzulamıyorum. Kendimden parçaları yok etme arzum yok. Hiçbir arzum yok. Belki de birbirine tamamen yabancı insanlar olarak buluşup sanki birbirimizi daha önce hiç görmemişçesine sabaha dek konuşmalıyız."

Amerika'da genelde oyun metinleriyle tanınan Pulitzer ödüllü Sam Shepard'ın adını ilk kez yıllar önce, Wim Wenders'in başyapıtı Paris, Texas'ın senaristi olarak duymuştum. Bu nasıl metin, kim yazmış bunu diye baktığımda tanışmıştım kendisiyle. Sonra yüzü çok tanıdık gelince aktörlük de yaptığını ve türlü filmlerde karşıma çıktığını fark ettim. Yani yolumuz çok kesişmiş de ben farkında değilmişim meğerse. Ölmeden önce kaleme aldığı son eseri olan yarı otobiyografik anlatısı Birinci Şahsın Hafiyesi Türkçede yayınlanınca edindim hemen. Minicik ama çok şiirli, çok güçlü bir metin çıktı karşıma, ki yukarıda alıntıladığım pasaj da metnin gücüne dair bir fikir verecektir diye tahmin ediyorum.

Bi iç monolog bu okuduğumuz. Anlatıcımız yatağa bağımlı hale gelmiş durumda, günlerini Colorado Çölü’ndeki evinin verandasında tekerlekli sandalyesinde düşünerek, hatırlayarak geçiriyor. Kimi zaman çocuklarına sesleniyor anlatıcı, kimi zaman kendiyle konuşuyor, kimi zaman da ikizi gibi gözüken, yolun karşısında duran isimsiz bir başka adamı gözlemliyor - o adamın da onu gözlemlediğini düşünüyor. Zamanla izleyen ve izlenen, anlatıcı ve anlatılan, tahayyül ile hakikat birbirine karışıyor.

Ölümü beklerken insanların zihinden geçenlerin aynı anda ne denli karmaşık ve bir yandan da ne denli basit olabileceğine, yolun sonuna doğru yürüdükçe nasıl kırılganlaşıp nasıl çocuklaştığımıza dair güçlü bir metin bu. Şu pasajla bitireyim:

"Geçmiş bir bütün halinde gelmez. Parçalar halinde gelir daima. Aslında parçalara ayrılır. Kendini sanki fragmanlar halinde tecrübe edilmiş gibi sunar. Neden? Neden, mesela, şimdiki zaman tercih edilir ki geçmişe? Çünkü anıları yaratanının şimdiki zaman olduğu varsayılır. Geçmişi yaratan odur. Bazen çok uçucu görünüyor."

[Q]

No stars means I’m not rating It. Just finished reading Year of the Monkey by Patti Smith in which she shares some about her time with Sam Shepard helping him on this, his final book. I was moved by her care and interested in what he would say. Sam had ALS and the disease was weakening him in the course of writing this book. Michael Shannon does a terrific job giving voice to Sam. I am so used to him being a harsh and violent guy in films but he’s not that way at all here. Each chapter is short but well written. Every word exact. No extras. It’s sort of a little mystery of sorts. Who is that guy across the way. And does he have anything to say? It feels like Sam ran out of time in the story. That brought sadness as it was an end of a strong literary voice.

[Come Musica · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cosa resta alla fine?
Cosa resta quando si scopre di non aver più via di scampo e di avere una malattia terminale?
Resta la memoria che si lascia di sé. Restano gli affetti più cari dei quali continuare a prendersi cura in quell’altrove senza spazio e senza tempo, che si possono custodire solo nelle stanze segrete del proprio cuore.

Questo è un testamento che un padre lascia ai propri figli: “Al momento c’è un pennacchio gigante, una nuvola bianca, che alza la testa sopra la fattoria. Mia figlia dice che sembra una bomba atomica. È molto sveglia, lei. Vede le cose. Vede le cose prima che succedano.”

E allora questo testamento potrebbe cominciare con tanti “per esempio”: “Oppure puoi iniziare una frase o un racconto con “per esempio”. Per esempio una quercia, una sola, che cresce. Per esempio arriva il vento. Cadono le foglie. Il cane ansima. Le mosche ronzano. Le farfalle entrano ed escono. Le foglie cadono per esempio a volte non tutte le a-volte. Solo a volte.”


E ai tanti “per esempio”, possono seguire degli “a volte”. Perché a un figlio che resta, questo serve. Serve che il padre possa continuare a dirgli che se anche “a volte” lui non c’è stato, se anche “a volte” lui ha sbagliato e se “per esempio” ci si è allontanati, è successo solo “a volte” e “non tutte le a-volte”, perché c’è l’amore padre-figlio/a che lega per sempre in quel per sempre, semprevivo, nonostante tutto: “Non sto cercando di dimostrarvi niente. Non sto cercando di dimostrarvi che ero il padre che credevate fossi quando eravate bambini. Ho fatto degli errori ma non ho idea di quali siano stati. E non ho mai desiderato ricominciare da capo. Non ho il desiderio di eliminare delle parti di me stesso. Non ho desiderio. Forse dovremmo incontrarci come completi estranei e parlare fino a notte fonda come se non ci fossimo mai visti prima. Sappiamo solo che c’è reminiscenza, c’è qualche misteriosa connessione. A volte.”

E allora al figlio non resterà che fissare lo sguardo, quando il padre non ci sarà più; fissandolo su piccole cose e lasciarsi affascinare: “Fissa gli insetti che passano sopra l’erba tagliata, l’erba tosata, o ogni tanto si posano su una sedia. Che cos’è? Cosa ci può trovare di affascinante in questo? In me? Forse non è affascinato. Forse è il contrario di affascinato. Quale sarebbe il contrario di affascinato? Essere presi nel pensiero, nei moti della mente. Presi dentro. E lui, ecco, guarda la stessa cosa giorno dopo giorno, mese dopo mese. Farfalle che si posano su piante viola.”


Tra 4 e 5 stelle.

[Farnoud Lavasani]

پیش از این که کتاب رو بخونم، توضیح مختصری ازش شنیده بودم. این‌که کتاب در ذهن یک فرد بیمار داره روایت می‌شه و درباره خودش و زندگی خودشه. برای همین از همون ابتدا، کتاب رو با این دید شروع کردم به خوندن که دارم ذهنیات یک فرد بیمار رو راجع به خودش می‌خونم. دوست داشتم این رو نمی‌دونستم و همون‌طور که نویسنده قصد داشت، در طول روایت متوجه می‌شدم که معنی جاسوس اول شخص چیه و بتونم بفهمم که فرد داره خودش رو از زاویه به‌خصوصی نگاه می‌کنه.

کتاب شامل بخش‌‌های مجزا بود از روزها، خاطرات و ایده‌های متفاوت. تا اواسط کتاب بنظر میاد داری پرتاب می‌شی به یک‌سری روز، ساعت و تصاویری که نمی‌دونی چطور بهشون رسیدی. بین دو زاویه دید در این بین هم هی جابجا می‌شه تا دوباره از اواسط کتاب به روزها، ساعات و تصاویر قبلی برمی‌گرده و این‌بار ذهن آماده
تری داری برای این‌که بفهمی چی داره می‌گذره.

به‌شکل کلی، شیوه روایت نویسنده رو بسیار دوست داشتم. نه صرفا چون ذهنم رو می‌خاروند و مجبورم می‌کرد فکر کنم و این دست‌وپا زدن برای شناخت راوی و کرکترها ارضام می‌کرد. بلکه به این دلیل که روایت خوب و قابل‌قبولی داشت از نگاه به خود در وضعیتی که حائلی در میان است-حالا دلیل این حائل هر چی می‌خواد باشه. فلان بیماری به‌خصوص جسمانی یا روان‌شناختی- شاید هم چندماه بعد فکر کنم که اون‌قدرها هم شاهکار نبود. اما امروز که کتاب تموم شد، این‌طور فکر می‌کنم.

اما هنوز نمی‌تونم بفهمم چطور می‌شه به کتاب‌ها امتیاز یک تا پنج داد!

[Octavio Solis · Rating 3 out of 5]

A spare how-to manual on witnessing your own slow death. Using pinprick arid prose, Sam novelizes his own final days with ALS, depicting a man who feels like he's spied on, while the other invalid man wonders who is spying on him. They circumspectly study each other from afar, recalling moments from their past in an oddly dislocated but repetitive pattern. It's a short work, and if you get it, read it aloud because it sounds like someone talking, composing his thoughts, recollections and personal accounting of his life in this simple novel. Some chapters are scarcely a page long. But reading them, you feel like his moments of clarity were brief and arresting. Completed days before his death, you sense his tenacity and will to live even in his blurriest moments.

[Bogdan Panajotovski · Rating 4 out of 5]

Usamljeni kauboj Sem

Nadam se da među vama ima ljubitelja Sema Šeparda, jednog od najvećih američkih dramskih pisaca u dvadesetom veku. Ono što inače cenim kod amerikanaca je što se često oseća neka čudna seta pomešana sa nenormalnim trudom junaka da se prilagode ovom svetu. Nevolja je u tome što je u americi najrasprostanjenija bajka o lakoj lovi.

Šepard je odabrao usamljenički život, osećam da je mrzeo "male razgovore", sve u njegovom pisanju vrvi od suštine.

Geopoetika se upustila u zanimljiv posao kada je izdala (na moje oduševljenje) knjigu - onaj iznutra, koja na suptilan gotovo snoviđajan način govori o njegovoj bolesti. Špijun iz prvog lica je njegovo poslednje delo, stvaralaštvo koje je opstalo čak i kada mu je telo otkazalo. Odlomke ove knjige je čak i diktirao.

Špijun iz prvog lica je opet nejasan i otvoren za svačija čitanja, stoga vrlo sklon intimizaciji. Kao što je slučaj i sa Karverom, Čivera ili Fordom. Zanimljiva naracija je ono što naročito oduševljava. Šepard govori šta vidi kroz svoju terasu, kakav je to starac koji ga posmatra, govori o čudnim sećanjima koja su mu ostala u glavi. Poreklo i odabir sećanja su uvek ono što je mene lično intrigiralo i smatram da mnogo više govori iz nas, jer je sigurno to sećanje izabralo nešto strano u nama. E tog stranca, kao - Špijun iz prvog lica - posmatra Šepard. Ili možda - Špijun- posmatra Šeparda. Ko će ga znati.
Kada su nam čula i kretanje ograničeno mnogo se posvećujemo svom telu. Naročito kada smo bolesni, ispituje pokrete, dokle možemo a da nas ne boli. Okrećemo se sebi. Tako se Šepard okrenuo sebu u ovom pisanju. To je delo jednog znalca- profesora pisanja, i jednog mi od idola. Evo jednog citata za kraj.

"Mrzim krajeve. Prosto ih prezirem. Počeci su svakako najuzbudljiviji, sredine su intrigantne, a krajevi propast... Iskušenje da se dođe do razrešenja, da se sve upakuje i poveže, meni deluje kao užasna zamka. Zašto ne bismo bili pošteniji prema ovom trenutku? Neki od najautentičnijih završetaka su oni koji već kreću ka novom početku. U tome je genijalnost."

[Joseph Sciuto · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sam Shepard's final work, "Spy Of The First Person" is a gripping, powerful, and personal narrative of a dying man reliving his life through his memories while he loses the power over his own body. Mr. Shepard submitted the final edits of this book a few days before passing away. This is not some unfinished transcript finished by a ghost writer in the hope that some publishing house could cash in on the celebrity of one of the greatest writers of his generation.

This novel is all Sam Shepard and he exits the stage triumphantly. A must read! Highly recommend.

[Paris (parisperusing) · Rating 5 out of 5]

“I’ve made mistakes but I have no idea what they were. And I’ve never desired to start over again.”

Every recollection within Spy of the First Person proves Sam Shepard was not just a titanic wordsmith but an arbiter of self-reflection. In his wake, Shepard leaves behind a novel as curious and observant as it is playfully unapologetic, two traces of a life well lived, indeed.

[Masiesmaili · Rating 3 out of 5]

مردم به خانه‌هایشان می‌روند. یکی منتظر دیگری است. یکی منتظر اتوبوس است. هر کسی منتظر است یکی دنبالش بیاید و از انجا ببردش. ببردش جای دور. آن پایین...

‏جاسوس اول شخص
‏سم شپرد

[Federica Rampi · Rating 5 out of 5]

“C’è stato un tempo in cui sembrava tutta una favola. C’era una volta – c’era, in un periodo del passato.”

Sam Shepard drammaturgo, autore, attore, regista è stato un uomo la cui vita ha rappresentato l'incarnazione del potere delle parole.
Il suo tragico destino è stato quello di morire di una malattia che ruba la capacità di muoversi parlare e scrivere, la SLA.

“Spiare la prima persona” è un breve ed intenso testamento , una confessione che ha scritto nei suoi ultimi giorni, ricorrendo spesso alla dettatura aiutato da familiari e amici, tra cui Patti Smith, che ha curato l’uscita del suo lavoro.

Il libro di Sam Shepard scritto con prosa scarna e ritmica, alterna ricordi e luoghi (Arizona, Alcatraz, New York, New Mexico) vagamente collegati, che si muovono tra la vitalità dell’esistenza e l’immobilità provocata dalla malattia, quasi a disegnare un percorso circolare tra la geografia dell’esperienza fisica e quella emotiva.
È il ritratto di un giovane uomo che spia un altro dall'altra parte della strada attraverso un binocolo: quello che vede è un anziano seduto su una sedia a dondolo e ne osserva la silenziosa lotta per compiere i gesti più semplici.

L’uomo, gravemente malato e quasi immobilizzato, riflette sulla sua storia familiare, sulla crescente dipendenza dagli altri man mano che la sua forma fisica si deteriora, mentre la mente è ancora viva e celebra l’amore per la famiglia illuminandolo della luce rasserenante del crepuscolo, metafora dell’addio.
I brevissimi capitoli alternano le voci dei due uomini nella narrazione, dove i confini tra l’osservatore e l’osservato spesso si confondono.

“Non posso non avvertire una somiglianza tra lui e me. Non so di che si tratta. A volte sembra che siamo la stessa persona. Un gemello perduto. Le sopracciglia. Il mento. Il fremito di un orecchio. Le mani in tasca. Questo modo degli occhi, di sembrare insieme sicuri.e smarriti.”

La narrazione di Shepard, non cede mai al sentimentalismo ma è piena di semplice passione per il paesaggio e la natura : il canto degli uccelli, il colore dei fiori, gli amati cani, i cavalli.
Nei suoi ricordi non concede spazio al palcoscenico, ai premi, al successo; ci sono invece la gioventù, i viaggi di quando era un ragazzo senza soldi ma con il mondo aperto davanti a lui.

“Spiare la prima persona “ è sguardo commovente e coraggioso su ciò che conta, quando si arriva a fine corsa.

“C’è questo fatto, nel dopo. Che non sai cosa verrà. Non sai come andranno a posto tutti i sospesi.”

[Sahel.hn · Rating 2 out of 5]

صادقانه هیچی نفهمیدم. تازگیا خیلی تمرکز ندارم

[Anne · Rating 2 out of 5]

I could not bond with this book. Much of it is in the third person but about Shepard himself as he was overtaken by ALS, even though ALS was never mentioned directly. It is not linear or clear. It must have been Shepard's thoughts as he looked at himself as if from outside himself. But it would probably be difficult to be linear or clear in those circumstances.

[Ali Ebrahimi · Rating 3 out of 5]

راستش از اینکه تیکه تیکه زندگی یه فردی رو بخونم هر چه قدر هم با جزئیات، خستم میکنه و این کتاب رو خیلی با اشتیاق تموم نکردم.

[Teresa Potes · Rating 5 out of 5]

me ha sacudido por dentro, es espectacular y el mayor poder que ejerce es que no es concebido para serlo, pero cuando se lee y se observan los matices y los espías y desconfianzas de si mismo se hace espectacular.
Es un libro que narra los últimos momentos del autor, que padecía de ELA y poder leer los momentos de lucidez y los momentos en los que ni se reconoce es muy duro pero a su vez se hace muy encarecido.
No puedo decir que lo haya disfrutado porque no es ficción, pero es esa autenticidad bruta lo que me ha atrapado tanto.

[Tommy · Rating 3 out of 5]

I loved Sam Shepard. In his final years, he shifted to short fiction more so than plays, with results that were mixed, but always intriguing. "Great Dream of Heaven" and "Day Out of Days" both had some magnificent stories and short prose/mood pieces in them. I didn't connect with his recent "The One Inside" and stopped midway through.

For "Spy in the First Person", I felt I owed it to Sam - one of my muses and mentors as a writer - to see this meandering, painful tale through. His gift of description was as intact as ever, not slowed or worn by his battle with ALS. The short (a page or two each) chapters weave between "The First Person" (Sam), "The Spy" or stranger (also Sam, or perhaps Death), and myriad other stream of consciousness observations, memories, and tales. I found I was gripped by the personal - how Sam was dealing with this deteriorating body, with his sharp mind still intact - but he drifted from that narrative often, either by choice or subconsciously because of the pain of it all. When he let us in, it was harrowingly tragic and beautiful and honest. Otherwise, I struggled to appreciate where he was taking the reader with the subsequent story elements.

Sam's fiction has always had a patchwork quality to it, reflections from pieces of broken glass on some dusty backroad somewhere in America. He's not one to say, "here's my story", and I admire that. I'm just not sure I can recommend this book for anyone except die hard fans of Sam's work, or those who want the smallest of glimpses into how it feels to watch ALS ravage your body and spirit.

It is only fair to share that Sam went from writing this longhand (no longer able to type) to speaking passages and having his children or sisters transcribe his thoughts. Then, friend Patti Smith came to help him edit it in his final days. The care for the craft is there. The keen observation of nature and people is there. The plainspoken awareness of death is there. I'm glad he wrote it and glad I read it. I'll miss him dearly. I just wouldn't say this is the place to start with Shepard, or to go to unless you are very familiar with his storytelling approach of late and ready for a wandering narrative that may not feel like it offers any resolve.

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

This slim volume was composed by Shepard as he became increasingly debilitated by ALS, which ultimately lead to his untimely death. A prolific author, playwright and actor, with multiple Pulitzer Prizes to his name, Shepard’s prose is both sparse and poetic. He reflects on his past, as he is observed by another from across the Street. But clearly, he is both the watcher and the watched. A moving and honest reminiscence recommended for those who aren’t afraid to travel to the dark side.

[Scottsdale Public Library]

This is the kind of prose that you savor, letting each passage fully seep into your consciousness, and turn the pages slowly and carefully. There's a narrative within these pages, but it follows a different path. Sam Shepard was a gifted man, and this, his last work, written while living out his last days with ALS, is a masterpiece. I knew nothing of this man or his life's work before randomly selecting this book off the shelf, and I feel honored to have read his story.
--Caitlin D.

[David Swatling · Rating 5 out of 5]

Prose poetry so personal, so intimate, it will touch the reader profoundly...or perhaps not at all. I have acted in his plays, directed them, been moved and inspired by his words my whole life. Finis.