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176 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
...Pater tak kelebihan berat badan sedikit pun, perutnya kencang, mungkin itu hasil dari banyak membaca. Jika Kaus juga gemar membaca, aku yakin itulah penyebab perut Kaus kencang juga, tapi Kaus sama sekali tak gemar membaca. Maka aku bingung mengapa di keluarga kami hanya mereka berdua yang berperut rata...Pengamatannya sangat jeli, jadi kita sebagai pembaca dewasa bisa memperkirakan bahwa dalam novel itu terjadi pembatasan ekspresi keagamaan oleh pemerintah komunis, tanpa si anak kesembilan ini harus menjelaskan panjang lebar dan mengerti apa yang ia amati layaknya orang dewasa.
...Mengenai membaca, Papa lebih ketat terhadap Mara, bahkan pernah menepis buku di tangan Mara dan berkata, "Kamu ini selalu membaca omong kosong! Aku tak pernah membaca novel seumur hidup, dan hidupku baik-baik saja." Sebelumnya, Papa pernah berkata pada Pater, tapi ditangkisnya. "Ayah, akan jadi apa kita tanpa Alkitab? Ataukah itu juga omong kosong belaka?" Biasanya Papa bingung mesti menjawab apa.Dalam novel ini ada cukup banyak beberapa ekspresi semacam "X terlintas di pikiranku, lalu aku lupa". Biasanya saya mengeluh dengan ekspresi macam itu, karena jika seorang tokoh lupa dengan apa yang dia pikirkan, maka dia tidak perlu bilang setelahnya bahwa ia lupa. Apalagi dengan sudut penceritaan orang pertama. Tapi untuk buku ini saya bisa mengerti karena gaya penceritaannya yang walau sebenarnya linear, si anak kesembilan suka teringat tentang hal lain yang berkaitan dan menceritakannya juga dalam narasi.
My problem is that as soon as I hear Papa's voice my belly gets all knotted up. Even until I wrote him a letter it was like this, but since then, it's been worse. I have no idea how doing it occurred to me at all and how I even dared to do it, but I did. That day I finished my homework fast, and then asked Donalics for a blank sheet of paper, since my notebook was full. And the I wrote down everything I wanted to. I wrote: Please don't call my big sister fat. And: Give the child benefits to Mama, because at the village council office that's supposed to come to us. And also: Please don't whip the backs of my big brothers and sisters with a belt. Then I folded the sheet and, after getting home, stuck it under Papa's pillow.
When he called me out to the kitchen the next evening and said, "I want a word with you, son," I thought I was really going to get it. But I didn't. Papa had me sit down on his and began talking as quietly as can be. All I can remember are snippets, like, "You can't yet understand this, son," and "Don't dare do such a thing again, son," and "If you don't tell anyone else, I won't give you a whipping right this instant.">
Escaping the obvious metaphorical relationship between the father and Communism is impossible. And although it may seem that this novel, because of it's honesty and brutality, would be difficult for the reader to survive, Barnas subtly and bravely delivers a nine year with a speech impediment and enough innocence to keep us reading and wondering how he remain a child with a modicum of goodness. The church does offer a reprieve to our nine year old by letting him serve at funerals where he begins to earn pocket money. Though, temptation does make its way into the story through an object. Miss Vera's unguarded black purse. We see our narrator walking right into this evil temptation, but Barnas makes us feel so sympathetic we have to understand ho one could easily fall prey to such temptation. Especially after Donalics hangs himself during the summer break. Right after our narrator steals for the first time from Miss Vera's purse, Barnas stays in first person but switches to a stream-of-consciousness that let's deeper into our narrator's head and how he feels about his life:
BLESSED IS THE FRUIT OF YOUR WOMB, GODDAMNIT FUCKING HELL/i'm on the way/ miss vera spoke to me, i obeyed others, too, i only hope they won't make me talk/i threw my village council pullover in the trash bin by the market sqaure, where mr. pista was found last week, we couldn't serve at his funeral/ little zsusi and her brother would surely have been happy to have us there, they attend school number one, where kerepesi went before joingin us, one time we met up in front of the butcher's, right after seeing the lady/ a plastic bag in her hand/ she seemed older than mama, it hit me right away what she was up to, so we have something in common, that's what i was thinking while standing in line' she was wearing a yellow raincoat, i couldn't get a better look/ my father can suck in his gut, too, from the closet i saw what it's really like when he pulls the belt out of his pants, not once have we been able to check mama on this score, nanny's different, while cuddling she lets us look, she can't imagine we'd be thinking anything bad: before i step into the butcher's i hear miss vera's voice/ you're feeling sick, little la, go one home and lie down!/ i was sitting there on the bench and would probably have stayed put if szabo hadn't given my arm a shake/ didn't you hear what miss vera said? snapped szabo and kicked my shoe, the one with the money in it: i get in line, there are four people ahead of me, and as the butcher man tends to them i practice inside my head what i am to say/ the ten-forint bill is in my hand, so i stole three dead people out of miss vera's handbag/
It's difficult to make a nine year narrator compelling, much less substantive enough to express complexity and strength of voice. Precisely why Barnas is one of Hungary's premier writers, though this is only his third novel, the first translated into English. Semi-autobiographical and forthright, ,The Ninth is a potent combination of sorrow and black humor that takes of off-guard. If you're looking to not just read a Hungarian author, but one the conveys the hardship of Hungary's past, Barnas is your man, if you can take it.
Telling a story from a child's point of view is one of the most difficult modes of fiction to write successfully. The narrator of Ferenc Barnas's The Ninth is a nine-year-old boy -- the ninth child of ten (eleven, counting the brother who died) in a large Hungarian family -- whose inexperience and bare vocabulary are compounded by a speech disability.
In writing The Ninth, Barnas seems to have wanted to give himself a taste of what difficulty his narrator must face when trying to give expression to his experience. Overall, Barnas succeeds . . .
Nekem nagyon tetszett, bár elég különös írásmódot használ és nem csak...
Nem sok minden történik mégis sok mindent leír, amik igen érdekes dolgok.
Nem gyakran olvastam ilyen élethelyzetű gyerek szemszögéből. Tizenegy testvér , hárman alusznak egy ágyban, mindenki dolgozik, hogy valahogy meglegyen a napi betevő, egy héten egyszer fürdés, se cipő, se kabát, a tetű és a bolha mindennapos....
A szegénység egy elképzelhetetlen fokáról van szó, -számomra- ebbe az életbe kaptam egy kis betekintőt, ezért örülök, hogy olvashattam. Az hogy ez egy önéletrajzi ihletésű regény csak még erőteljesebbé teszi az "irományt".
Tetézi a balsorsot a kötekedő, mindentisjobbantudó, kemény kezű apa és az érzelmeit kimutatni nem tudó anya, aki kerüli a testi kontaktust saját gyermekeivel.