Plima je psihološko-kriminalni roman. Ne. Plima je koncert s polomljenimi inštrumenti-ljudmi, odigran na odru slovenske obale. Z glavno protagonistko, v oblak marihuane zavito pisateljico Dunjo, ki jo preganjata bratova in očetova smrt. S Katarino, Dunjino otroško prijateljico, ki jo preganjajo življenjske okoliščine. S Kristijanom, ki je pod družbenimi pritiski izklesal svoje telo in se izklopil. Z Mirelo, ki se Michaela Jacksona v svojem natrpanem stanovanju oklepa iz izključno napačnih razlogov. Z Duško, ki, no, kot kaže, še ni čisto polomljena, saj je premlada, in Dražena, Dunjinega brata, edina ni nikoli poznala.
Plima je dolga skladba o nasilju, porojenem iz človeških ambivalenc, omejitev, nezmožnosti in tudi – odločitev. Ni pa Plima samo žalostna skladba, niti ne hrupna, tudi njeni ritmi niso ritmi morale. Prevevajo jo tudi topli toni, zvoki morja, škržatov, jadranskega vetra in razdalj, znova premerjenih v bližine.
ANA SCHNABL is an award winning authoress from Slovenia. Her collection of short stories Razvezani (Disentangled) received Best Literary Debut Prize at the annual Ljubljana Book Fair in 2017. The same book was shortlisted for the Novo mesto Short Prize and for the Mira PEN Award. The collection was translated into Serbian (Partizanska knjiga, 2018) and German (Folio Verlag, 2020). The Serbian translation received the Edo Budiša Award in Croatia. Her second book, a novel called Mojstrovina (Masterpiece) was published in 2020. It is due to be translated into Serbian (Partizanska knjiga, 2022), German (Folio Verlag, 2022) and English (Istros Books, 2021). She finished her second novel called Plima (The Tide) in January 2021. The book will be published in January 2022. She is currently working on a colection of novellas.
Slišala sem veliko pohval o Plimi in izkazalo se je, da so bile upravičene.
Po eni strani me je, iskreno povedano, avtoričin stil malo motil zaradi medvrstičnih iger z besedami, ki so občasno delovale name precej dolgovezno in se mi je dogajanje zdelo zmedeno. Po drugi strani pa je prav ta gost in bogat jezik neznansko unikaten, da te žene naprej k branju. Recimo prizor s šahom se mi je zdel blazno zanimiv ali pa prizori srečevanj glavne junakinje (pisateljice) z bratovo nekdanjo simpatijo.
Piko na i zgodbi poleg grenke zgodbe o raziskovanju smrti brata doda tudi okolje in to je naša Obala. Vonj po borovcih, morje, Piran, Bernardin, sladoled, marina, sol v zraku,...vse to me spominja na počitnice v otroštvu.
Moja ocena odraža moje občutenje knjige oz. stopnjo bralnega užitka ob njej. Žal, ni ga bilo. Res sem se mučila z branjem sicer obetavne zgodbe avtorice, ki se mi je priljubila s svojimi prvimi knjigami in objavami, a s tokrat izbranim slogom mi zgodbe ni uspela približati. Čeprav lahko razumem/sklepam/si razlagam, da so zlogovane, ponavljane, pretrgane, v krepkem ali drobnem tisku zapisane besede in fraze, prepredene z vulgarizmi, medmeti, onomatopejami in drugimi zvoki in učinki, direktna preslikava toka misli oz. dogajanja v glavi glavne junakinje, je bilo vsega tega tako zelo preveč, da je pripoved trpela in tudi razplet romana se mi ni zdel prepričljiv in ni upravičil uporabe takšnih izraznih sredstev.
A woman returns to her hometown on the Slovenian coast twenty years after the death of her brother in an attempt to bring closure to the many lingering questions surrounding his mysterious death. Well, beyond bringing closure, her ultimate goal is to write a story about her brother, maybe a crime novel, and perhaps it’s the book we’re reading right now. She links up with the curious characters of her childhood, assuming the role of the “Great Detective” as she digs and prods and works to uncover and understand who her brother really was at the time of his death.
The writing style, filled as it is with many diversions, freak outs, side notes, sound effects, etc. quickly overstays its welcome. When used sparingly, this could be effective—it worked particularly well in the chess scene near the end—but used with no restraint, it makes for a exasperating and fitful reading experience and prevents the reader from fully settling into the text. But what kept me in it, what prevented me from putting it down were the characters. The scenes with loyal Katarina, hygienic and sterile Kristijan, precocious and observant Duška, and Michael Jackson-obsessed Mirela were what ultimately kept me engaged.
An at times claustrophobically introspective novel that serves as a stark reminder that sometimes the past, painful as it is to bear, is better left undisturbed.
Plima je roman, prepoln duha, humorja, živih oseb in živopisnih prizorov slovenskega Primorja. V jeziku je pa Schnabl, upam si trditi, presegla samo sebe, se popolnoma naselila v njem in sprostila; ta je igriv, ironičen, duhovit, se preliva čez rob, in - iz njega se napaja resničnost in ne obratno. Jezik, ki tvori zares presežno umetnost. Prava literarna poslastica!!
I desperately wanted to like this but I am afraid it was a bit of a miss for me. In the book's defence I lost my glasses about 10 pages in and then caught a cold, so read this entirely without glasses. However even reading the final 100 pages in a bubble bath with non-alc prossecco didn't redeem it.
I think the most obvious problem with this book is its translation to English. For a book that is described as a "linguistic rollercoaster," I think a lot of the word play was lost in translation and many of the English replacements felt cliched and corny. I'm a Russian speaker and of course this isn't the same as Slovenian but I know enough to know that many of the word plays were not just translated but replaced by English ones (i.e. in places where alliteration was used.) I honestly feel losing some of the world play for a more honest translation would have been better but maybe the book just doesn't work in English.
The other thing I struggled with was the narration - of course, there is nothing inherently wrong with an unlikeable narrator however I found Dunja's lack of decisiveness and idolisation of her dead brother to be incredibly frustrating at times. I felt like the book almost functioned as an excuse for people who allow their own under-processed trauma to traumatise others. Dunja behaves like a child in her 40s and justifies it by an unimaginable trauma experienced when she was a small child.
Dunja actually reminded me of someone I knew who idolised a family member who passed away during childhood and just completely fell apart and hurt people when realising that that certain family member was not the great person she worshipped (T). She reminded me a bit of myself as well, but I'd like to think I'm a bit more self aware haha. As hard as it is I think Dunja's, T's and mine is a selfish existence and I think this book was overly sympathetic of it.
I found the ending to be pretty yuck. Overall I feel like I've read a sob story about someone who feels their pain is the fault of everyone around them and has no intention of changing that. Someone who's identity is shaped by pain and fears letting go of it for fear of becoming a nobody.
Plima je predvsem roman a(tra)ktivne introspekcije - še bolj kot za iskanje morilca gre v njem kakopak za iskanje "sebe", a ne brez šale na lasten račun, pa tudi ne brez zajebane družbene analize. Stilistični dogodek literarnega leta (pa šele marca smo)!
Pri Schnabl imam precej visoko postavljeno lestvico, saj me s svojim jezikom navdušuje že od Razvezanih. Plima doseže in postavi nov standard. Igra jezika je neverjetna, ni pogosto, da avtor ustvarja jezik medtem ko piše (čeprav si to mnogi želijo). Sama vsebina je kriminalka, a vendar več kot to. Intimno iskanje odgovorov in rešitev za situacije, ki te pripeljejo na točko v življenju, kjer nisi najbolj zadovoljen/a pa se poslušaš iz tega izkopati, podprto z vsem zelo poznanim naborom srednje do nefunkcionalnimi odnosi in razmerji. Za moj okus globoko intimen psihološki krimič. Krimič, ki je visoka literatura.
Psihološko-kriminalni roman. Kriminalni zaplet je bolj v ozadju - v ospredju je Dunja, mlada ženska, ki zavita v oblak marihuane blodi po slovenski obali in skuša faking ugotoviti, ma zakaj je pred mnogimi leti, ko je bila še punčka, otrok, hihi, deklica, Dunjica, Dunjič, faking umrl njen brat, ki, mnja, je padel ali, o njen bog, bil porinjen z obzidja cerkve ... (prosta reinterpretacija stila romana). Na trenutke genialno, na trenutke preveč zapleteno zame, ko skušam odvisnik za odvisnikom dešifrirati dolg kačast stavek, ki se vije čez celo, o njen bog (dorrra ideja, ma dai), stran. Plima mi je bila veliko bolj všeč kot avtoričin prvi roman Mojstrovina. V Mojstrovini so bili v takem nabuhlem stilu tudi dialogi med protagonistoma, ker se mi je zdelo absurdno. Tu gre za tok misli, dialogi so pa bolj realni. Ni za vsakogar. Kdor se prebije čez prvih nekaj strani, pa zna uživati v stilu do konca. V poigravanju z jezikom, s prispodobami, z rimami, ...
a six-part bbc drama as a book, if i've ever read one
i really like schnabl's writing style, it's playful and feels contemporarily real without being internet-coded; lots of moments where you're occupying the feelings of dunja (incl. her neuroses)
the story was captivating at the start but kind of resolved itself in a somewhat unremarkable way — giving high school creative writing assignment that ends with "and then i woke up"
anyway, five stars for the cover and i definitely want to read more of her, for sure
A middle-aged woman, Dunja, returns to her home town on the coast of Slovenia to finally find answers behind the unexplained death of her older brother, Dražen, three decades earlier. Reuniting with her best friend Katarina and her partner Kristijan, Dunja navigates chronic illness and her many hang-ups to interview people who may not what happened. Using stream of consciousness and metaphorical flourishes, this novel is more about character, form and style than plot despite the compelling premise.
I read this in English translation ('Flood Tide') but couldn't find it on Goodreads. I loved this book - particularly Dunja's frustrated, shrewd, and funny narration. I truly appreciated her anger and humour. Coming home can make me want to turn into the Great Detective too.
3.5 rounded down. Written from the third-person perspective of a traumatised, overthinking woman, this was at times difficult to get through without re-reading each sentence thrice because it twisted and turned and broke off and started again in paragraph-length sentences. Other times, I whizzed through with the speed of Dunja’s thought. Despite the murder mystery of it all, the story was uninspiring. Perhaps it was trying too hard to be meta.