What do you think?
Rate this book
Zaklęty dwór
Powieść uchodzi za pierwszy polski utwór o charakterze sensacyjno-przygodowym. Zawiera również watki obyczajowo-satyryczne. Pierwotnie miała stanowić pierwszą część trylogii poświęconej wydarzeniom powstania krakowskiego, jednak przedwczesna śmierć autora uniemożliwiła dokończenie tego zamierzenia.
479 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1859
1 person is currently reading
30 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
June 18, 2023
Imagine, if you will, a secret meeting taking place at midnight, during a thunderstorm, near a haunted, abandoned mansion. Which is also on fire. A beautiful heroine conveniently falls asleep in said haunted mansion (now on fire), and needs to be saved. Her desperate lover rushes to her rescue, but he’s dramatically stopped by his loyal best friend, who runs into the flames, and gets badly burnt. The beautiful heroine is rescued by her father, although she doesn’t know, he’s her real father.
Too much?
Well, Łozinski looked upon his creation, and thought: not enough. Brace yourself for more cliché plot points. Even the characters seem cut-outs from the Typical Characters Magazine.
There’s Juliusz, the protagonist – an idealistic and handsome young man, who unexpectedly inherits a grand estate from a distant relative. His honour forbids him to entertain the possibility that anyone would try to deceive him. He lives in perpetual guilt for becoming suddenly rich, but fortunately, considering his complete fiscal incompetence, he won’t have to suffer having money for much longer.
Far below this snowy moral high ground, we find his best friend, Czorgut, who’s supposed to be the ugly, practical, cynical realist. Aggressive, ill-bred and obnoxious, Czorgut butts into other people’s business, and manages his friend’s affairs with a heavy hand.
There are two main female characters: one is about 20 years old, the other 17; one has very small, cute hands, and darling little feet, and the other even smaller, cuter hands and even smaller, more darling feet. And since Łozinski holds limb size as the most important feature of a woman, I will, henceforth, refer to his heroines as Feet I and Feet II.
Both Feet I and Feet II have angelic, delightful voices, and darling mannerisms of very small children, such as jumping up and down with joy and clapping their little hands in delight, then suddenly growing coy and bashful, and turning their darling little faces to hide the rosy-pink blush rising to their darling, puffy cheeks.
If I tried this behaviour at 17, my father would have me committed for psychiatric evaluation. But I digress.
For your intellectual convenience and moral economy, all characters in this novel have been neatly divided into bad people and good people. Occasionally, a good character gets falsely accused or tricked into doing bad things, but we, of course, know he’s good, because the author will tell us.
In fact, the author addresses his readers frequently: he asks if we remember what he wrote a couple of chapters before, then repeats it for us anyway. He explains why using French in conversation is an embarrassing faux pas. (Damn and blast.) He serves us moralizing rants – he even pauses the action to put one of his bad characters in the Naughty Corner, and point out his flaws to the class. He explains parts of the plot after they happen, in case you didn’t get what happened. I wish I was joking.
Contrary to many authors, Łozinski believes, you should show and tell. First show how a character is sad, then explain how a character, you’ve just shown to be sad, is sad.
Double exposition seems a common device in the novel. Consider the part, where Czorgut explores the eponymous haunted mansion to check if it’s actually haunted. Since he expects to encounter potentially dangerous people rather than ghosts, his mission requires stealth and silence.
Yet, Czorgut talks to himself out loud the entire time, describing his own actions – which the author also narrates (!): Aha! Now I shall open this door and enter this crimson room. Now, I will pick up this torn bit of a letter, I’ve found on the stairs. At one point Czorgut even delivers a full political soliloquy – with exclamations.
Didn’t it strike Łozinski as unnatural?
Wouldn’t a character, who needs to keep quiet, merely think about those things rather than speak to himself? How many people go around their houses, providing spoken commentary on their own actions?
Now, you might think that’s bad writing. Please, wait. Allow me to point out the cherry on top of this unsavoury, melodramatic cake. Łozinski ends his novel with a “Where-are-they-now” or rather, what happened to my characters next – the nuclear option in the arsenal of trashy book endings. It’s like writing fanfiction about your own fiction. Stop it. Get some help. Spare us the sight of your literary masturbation.
If you wish to continue the story, commit to writing another novel, you lazy fuck.
And, in all seriousness, I wish Łozinski had written another novel, because this one was hilarious. It left me haunted by visions of grown women with creepy, little, two-year-old’s hands sticking out of their sleeves. It left me convinced that all secret meetings must invariably take place at midnight, during a thunderstorm, to ensure maximum inconvenience.
And, all this got me thinking – why isn’t this novel on the compulsory reading list at school? It fits the profile completely. I think, it beats Nad Niemnem by Eliza Orzeszkowa.
Questionable writing skills of the author? Check.
An underwhelming plot, which barely sticks together? Check
Exposition done through characters asking other characters to retell stories which they already know? Check.
A shallow understanding of patriotism? Check.
Moral lessons applicable only when there’s no real moral conundrum? Check.
The author lecturing the reader in a disciplinarian tone? Check.
If you’ve attended school in Poland, you’ll have the dubious pleasure of understanding me perfectly.
Too much?
Well, Łozinski looked upon his creation, and thought: not enough. Brace yourself for more cliché plot points. Even the characters seem cut-outs from the Typical Characters Magazine.
There’s Juliusz, the protagonist – an idealistic and handsome young man, who unexpectedly inherits a grand estate from a distant relative. His honour forbids him to entertain the possibility that anyone would try to deceive him. He lives in perpetual guilt for becoming suddenly rich, but fortunately, considering his complete fiscal incompetence, he won’t have to suffer having money for much longer.
Far below this snowy moral high ground, we find his best friend, Czorgut, who’s supposed to be the ugly, practical, cynical realist. Aggressive, ill-bred and obnoxious, Czorgut butts into other people’s business, and manages his friend’s affairs with a heavy hand.
There are two main female characters: one is about 20 years old, the other 17; one has very small, cute hands, and darling little feet, and the other even smaller, cuter hands and even smaller, more darling feet. And since Łozinski holds limb size as the most important feature of a woman, I will, henceforth, refer to his heroines as Feet I and Feet II.
Both Feet I and Feet II have angelic, delightful voices, and darling mannerisms of very small children, such as jumping up and down with joy and clapping their little hands in delight, then suddenly growing coy and bashful, and turning their darling little faces to hide the rosy-pink blush rising to their darling, puffy cheeks.
If I tried this behaviour at 17, my father would have me committed for psychiatric evaluation. But I digress.
For your intellectual convenience and moral economy, all characters in this novel have been neatly divided into bad people and good people. Occasionally, a good character gets falsely accused or tricked into doing bad things, but we, of course, know he’s good, because the author will tell us.
In fact, the author addresses his readers frequently: he asks if we remember what he wrote a couple of chapters before, then repeats it for us anyway. He explains why using French in conversation is an embarrassing faux pas. (Damn and blast.) He serves us moralizing rants – he even pauses the action to put one of his bad characters in the Naughty Corner, and point out his flaws to the class. He explains parts of the plot after they happen, in case you didn’t get what happened. I wish I was joking.
Contrary to many authors, Łozinski believes, you should show and tell. First show how a character is sad, then explain how a character, you’ve just shown to be sad, is sad.
Double exposition seems a common device in the novel. Consider the part, where Czorgut explores the eponymous haunted mansion to check if it’s actually haunted. Since he expects to encounter potentially dangerous people rather than ghosts, his mission requires stealth and silence.
Yet, Czorgut talks to himself out loud the entire time, describing his own actions – which the author also narrates (!): Aha! Now I shall open this door and enter this crimson room. Now, I will pick up this torn bit of a letter, I’ve found on the stairs. At one point Czorgut even delivers a full political soliloquy – with exclamations.
Didn’t it strike Łozinski as unnatural?
Wouldn’t a character, who needs to keep quiet, merely think about those things rather than speak to himself? How many people go around their houses, providing spoken commentary on their own actions?
Now, you might think that’s bad writing. Please, wait. Allow me to point out the cherry on top of this unsavoury, melodramatic cake. Łozinski ends his novel with a “Where-are-they-now” or rather, what happened to my characters next – the nuclear option in the arsenal of trashy book endings. It’s like writing fanfiction about your own fiction. Stop it. Get some help. Spare us the sight of your literary masturbation.
If you wish to continue the story, commit to writing another novel, you lazy fuck.
And, in all seriousness, I wish Łozinski had written another novel, because this one was hilarious. It left me haunted by visions of grown women with creepy, little, two-year-old’s hands sticking out of their sleeves. It left me convinced that all secret meetings must invariably take place at midnight, during a thunderstorm, to ensure maximum inconvenience.
And, all this got me thinking – why isn’t this novel on the compulsory reading list at school? It fits the profile completely. I think, it beats Nad Niemnem by Eliza Orzeszkowa.
Questionable writing skills of the author? Check.
An underwhelming plot, which barely sticks together? Check
Exposition done through characters asking other characters to retell stories which they already know? Check.
A shallow understanding of patriotism? Check.
Moral lessons applicable only when there’s no real moral conundrum? Check.
The author lecturing the reader in a disciplinarian tone? Check.
If you’ve attended school in Poland, you’ll have the dubious pleasure of understanding me perfectly.
April 3, 2024
Czy w połowie przewidziałam główną intrygę? Tak..
Ale to nie zmienia faktu, że wciągnęłam się mocno i bawiłam się świetnie! Potrzebuję więcej takich książek♡
Ale to nie zmienia faktu, że wciągnęłam się mocno i bawiłam się świetnie! Potrzebuję więcej takich książek♡
December 13, 2024
„Jeśli tu owdzie w toku opowiadania za wiele kazałem ci własnym odgadywać domysłem, to poznasz snadnie, że to wina przedmiotu i treści, a nie biednego autora”.
Polska literatura grozy / sensacyjno-detektywistyczna z XIX wieku jest cool. Po opiniach myślałam, że będę znacznie silniej odczuwać, że zostało to napisane w 1864 roku, ale zdecydowanie nie. Szaleństwo, tajemniczy dwór, duchy, zagadki (szczególnie ta z Eugenią🥹), a zarazem trochę humoru i świetne dialogi – jestem za.
Aż mi szkoda, że autor nie dokończył tej trylogii.
Polska literatura grozy / sensacyjno-detektywistyczna z XIX wieku jest cool. Po opiniach myślałam, że będę znacznie silniej odczuwać, że zostało to napisane w 1864 roku, ale zdecydowanie nie. Szaleństwo, tajemniczy dwór, duchy, zagadki (szczególnie ta z Eugenią🥹), a zarazem trochę humoru i świetne dialogi – jestem za.
Aż mi szkoda, że autor nie dokończył tej trylogii.
January 28, 2026
nigdy nie spodziewałam się, że w polskim romantyzmie znajdę powieść przygodową, awanturniczą z ciekawym wątkiem powieści gotyckiej, muszę przyznać, ze trochę nieznana perełka.
choć potrzebowała czasu na rozwinięcie się, to miała momenty kiedy nie mogłam jej odłożyć, co sprawiało, że była to zdecydowanie przyjemna lektura.
łączyło się tutaj trochę wątków historycznych i niepodległościowych, które znamy dobrze z utworów Mickiewicza i Słowackiego, ale w "Zaklętym dworze" łączą się z gotyckim zamczyskiem, duchami i wielką tajemnicą, która dla nas nie jest tak oczywista.
choć potrzebowała czasu na rozwinięcie się, to miała momenty kiedy nie mogłam jej odłożyć, co sprawiało, że była to zdecydowanie przyjemna lektura.
łączyło się tutaj trochę wątków historycznych i niepodległościowych, które znamy dobrze z utworów Mickiewicza i Słowackiego, ale w "Zaklętym dworze" łączą się z gotyckim zamczyskiem, duchami i wielką tajemnicą, która dla nas nie jest tak oczywista.
August 12, 2022
Troche traca myszka, ale sumie to calkiem fajna ksiazka. Troche smieszna, troche tagiczna z tym, ze bardziej smieszna niz tragiczna. Kiedy czytalam mialam caly czas na mysli "Tajemnice mirtowego pokoju" Wilkie'go Collins'a. Z tym, ze "Tajemnica mirtowego pokoju" jest bardzo brytyjska, a "Zaklety dwor" az na wskros sarmacka.
October 2, 2021
(Audiobook), 6/10
Lektor - 3.5/6
Lektor - 3.5/6
March 17, 2024
Ale to było zajebiste xD Intryga dosyć łatwa do rozpracowania, ale pomimo objętości stronicowej bawiłam się świetnie!!
July 30, 2024
Przyjemna opowieść z nutą tajemnicy, przygody i humoru.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews