"The beginning of this tale of bygone days in Odessa dates to the dawn of the twentieth century. At that time we used to refer to the first years of this period as the 'springtime, ' meaning a social and political awakening. For my generation, these years also coincided with our own personal springtime, in the sense that we were all in our youthful twenties. And both of these springtimes, as well as the image of our carefree Black Sea capital with acacias growing along its steep banks, are interwoven in my memory with the story of one family in which there were five children: Marusya, Marko, Lika, Serezha, and Torik."--from The Five
The Five is an captivating novel of the decadent fin-de-siecle written by Vladimir Jabotinsky (1880-1940), a controversial leader in the Zionist movement whose literary talents, until now, have largely gone unrecognized by Western readers. The author deftly paints a picture of Russia's decay and decline--a world permeated with sexuality, mystery, and intrigue. Michael R. Katz has crafted the first English-language translation of this important novel, which was written in Russian in 1935 and published a year later in Paris under the title Pyatero.
The book is Jabotinsky's elegaic paean to the Odessa of his youth, a place that no longer exists. It tells the story of an upper-middle-class Jewish family, the Milgroms, at the turn of the century. It follows five siblings as they change, mature, and come to accept their places in a rapidly evolving world. With flashes of humor, Jabotinsky captures the ferment of the time as reflected in political, social, artistic, and spiritual developments. He depicts with nostalgia the excitement of life in old Odessa and comments poignantly on the failure of the dream of Jewish assimilation within the Russian empire.
Ze'ev (Vladimir) Jabotinsky (זאב ז'בוטינסקי) was born Vladimir Yevgenyevich (Yevnovich) Zhabotinsky in Odessa, Russian Empire (modern Ukraine) into an assimilated Jewish family. His father, Yevno (Yevgeniy Grigoryevich) Zhabotinsky, hailed from Nikopol, Ukraine. He was a member of the Russian Society of Sailing and Trade and was primarily involved in wheat trading. His mother, Chava (Eva Markovna) Zach (1835–1926), came from Berdychiv. Jabotinsky's older brother (Myron) died in childhood. His sister, Tereza (Tamara Yevgenyevna) Zhabotinskaya-Kopp, founded a private, female secondary school in Odessa. In 1885 the family moved to Germany due to his father's illness, returning a year later after his father's death.
Raised in a Jewish middle-class home, Jabotinsky was educated in Russian schools. Although he studied Hebrew as a child, he wrote in his autobiography that his upbringing was divorced from Jewish faith and tradition. Chava Zhabotinskaya opened a store in Odessa selling stationery, and enrolled young Vladimir in the city's gymnasium. Jabotinsky did not finish school, having become involved in journalism. In 1896 he began writing articles for a major local Russian newspaper, the Odessa Leaflet, and was sent to Italy and Switzerland as a correspondent. He also worked with the Odessa News. Jabotinsky was a childhood friend of Russian journalist and poet Korney Chukovsky, and attended Chukovsky's 1903 wedding to Maria Goldfeld.
Jabotinsky wrote under the pseudonym "Altalena" ("swing" in Italian)(also "Old Italian" in Yiddish). His dispatches from Italy earned him recognition as an up-and-coming Russian-language journalist. He was a student at the Sapienza University of Rome law school, but did not graduate. In the summer of 1901 he returned to Odessa and began working as a journalist at the newspaper Odessa's News (Russian: Одесские новости). Later he edited newspapers in Russian and Hebrew.
He married Yohana Galperina in October 1907. They had one child, Eri Jabotinsky, who later became a member of the Irgun-inspired Bergson Group. Eri Jabotinsky briefly served in the 1st Knesset of Israel; he died on June 6, 1969.
Самое примечательное в этой книге - это чтец Валерий Клугман. С этой аудиокнигой хорошо играть в дринкин геймс - пить, например, каждый раз, когда он делает неправильное ударение в слове из двух слогов. Или говорит "И студенческий оркестр заиграл... ээээ.... мееее.... тут французское слово без перевода.... гу-ду-меус!". Или: "Позволю себе небольшое отступление. А вот в другой книжке я читал....". А пишет Жаботинский хорошо, я не ожидала. Ну я вообще люблю про идейную молодежь начала 20 века, особенно еврейскую, особенно в Одессе, и чтобы передовые девушки тискались по лодкам с мичманами, а идейные юноши страдали. (перечитала по-украински - перевод жуть).
Давно планировала прочесть эту вещь: в моем списке рекомендаций от друзей “Пятеро” прописались тому назад сколько-то лет, но все руки не доходили; и вот наконец. “Пятеро” хвалят, и я пожалуй похвалю тоже. Если существует понятие одесской литературы, то вот образчик из лучших. Книга дышит Одессой, она тоже как заклинание — от Ланжерона и Аркадии до Десятой станции и Пересыпи; и хочется тут же цитировать все одесские великие книги: от катаевского “Паруса” до Багрицкого, Грина и Паустовского с Бабелем. В общем, априори книга про Одессу мне понравится; а в этой есть и страсть, и прекрасный язык, и мастерство рассказчика. И сюжет — не оторваться: история семьи, где ассимиляция, судьба, история и эпоха последовательно убивают всех детей (пятерых, как вы догадались), да всех по-разному. Автор хорошо пишет, умело рассказывает: и ночь-то у него дышит южными звездами (я без иронии, мне нравится), и рассказ бодро движется от театра к Овидиополю и гребле на лодках, шпионам в Петербурге и красавицам, любовным эскападам и свободной любви. Проблема одна — от персонажей за версту несет романтизмом начала того века. Маруся картонная, выдуманная героиня эпохи — такие Маруси есть и у Гамсуна, и у Чехова. Она прямо-таки Дейзи из “Бегущей по волнам” Грина — экзальтированная идея женской прелести. И другие герои проигрывают ночи и одесским улицам: Маркус — недописанный, Лика — демоническая женщина… В общем, я получила удовольствие, но есть вопросы. Рекомендую — да. Очень любопытно, хорошо написано, есть о чем поспорить.
Найкращий роман про Одесу, який я читала. Тонко, глибоко і душевно представлена історія п'ятьох з однієї єврейської родини. Про їх вибори, виклики, сумніви та вчинки, що ілюструють всю палітру історичних подій в Одесі та ширше, в Російській імперії. І попри літературну російську мову, якою написаний роман, дуже видно і чути, наскільки Одеса - неросійське місто і наскільки воно інше на просторах імперії.
Ich habe dieses Jahr anscheinend ein Faible für Romane die Anfang des 20. Jahrhunderts spielen. Dieser war auch sehr gut. Nur manchmal schweifte ich beim Lesen geistig ab und weiß nicht ob es am Buch lag oder an mir
Книга о трагической судьбе еврейской семьи в начале прошлого века для меня оказалась прежде всего книгой об Одессе, солнечным, поэтическим и ностальгическим рассказом о ней. Когда талантливый человек пишет о том, что действительно любит, не удивительно, что получается маленький шедевр. Я мало знаю о Жаботинском как о политическом деятеле, в книге он сам пишет о противоречии между его любовью к разноголосому и разноязычному городу, в котором живут бок о бок десятки народов, и его идеей расселить людей по национальным государствам-квартиркам. Но он и сам герой своей книги, и его идея - одна из сотен идей, которые увлекали и тянули в разные стороны одесситов и не только, евреев и не только, сто лет назад и сейчас.
There’s so much here and so much to say and I’m rather sure I won’t be able to say it as well as it should be put.
I’m fascinated by this long-gone Odessa. I’m fascinated by its familiarity. I’m fascinated by its difference. It so clearly was Russia’s “new world” city, it’s peripheral boom-town on the ocean; its physicalized hypothetical of what America would have been like if our waves of immigration hadn’t landed on top of our Anglophone template-societies. It’s a “What if…” episode of San Francisco or of New York with better weather. And not just a what-if America of the past; in its struggle with decadence, it has an unmistakeable familiarity for a modern American…
I’m fascinated by the quasi-autobiographical nature of _The Five_. That Jabotinsky wrote it while writing his actual autobiography is a red flag. That historians have concluded that he incorporated useful fictions into the contemporaneous autobiography and so clearly based _The Five_’s nameless narrator on himself makes me wonder to what degree he incorporated parallel, more honest facts from his story into the fictionalization. Which of these characters have separate real-world models? Who were they? What happened to them in reality? Selfishly: my great grandparents emigrated from that long-gone Odessa and, since one character sounds like the version of one of them passed down through family stories, I find myself wondering if that’s a coincidence or whether they actually knew Jabotinsky in their shared hometown’s Jewish quarters — were they among some real-life Marusya-proxy’s tourists and circles? Functionally a century after all of their deaths, I’m quite sure I’ll never know…
I’m fascinated by Jabotinsky himself, finding time to craft this masterpiece while working tirelessly to build a nation he never lived to see. I’m fascinated by what it says about him that he _could_ write this: the man really did have other doors available to him, he really could have been remembered as one of the world’s great writers, and I don’t think it’s an accident that he described himself as having slammed the door to his literary career and thrown away the key. I’m fascinated by the fact that he found the time to write it — that door wasn’t as slammed and locked as he made it sound. I’m fascinated by how the same man could have written this and played the role he did in early Zionism. I won’t try too hard to shoehorn _The Five_ into his ideology, the work deserves better, but I also think the answer is in that last chapter and the observation that one must pass through disintegration to reach regeneration.
I’m fascinated with all the ways Jabotinsky plays with narration and literary expectations throughout. Not my original thoughts. But read this and consider it yourself: https://www.academia.edu/8897705/Odes....
And I’m fascinated by the questions central to the book. By whether it’s true that axioms cannot survive being questioned (and whether Jabotinsky’s later life was an answer of what to do to rebuild after they have been). By how his description of Samoilo’s sense of the power of wanting aligns with the history of the Zionism Jabotinsky held so dear: there’s someone else who famously believed that if you will it (badly enough), it was no dream — even if Jabotinsky has his character both refuse to use those words and focus on a different “it,” I think that’s material. By what actually happened to Marko in the book and why he’s never heard from again. By what Samoilo would have done after our close.
All told, I’m surprisingly glad I read this. I feared I’d regret doing so. I don’t. It’s worth it.
Цей твір пронизаний болем. Попри часто бадьорий та дотепний настрій оповіді, в голосі нарратора бринить таке причаєне і ледь вловиме почуття болі. Цей біль дедалі дужче розжеврюється під кінець твору; коли майже усі головні персонажі сягають етапу вікової зрілості, і з’являється мотив туги за молодістю як за територією безтурботності та легкодушності. Втім, мені видається, що найбільшими призвідниками болю в оповідача, є втрата батьківщини (або радше в множині - батьківщин).
Оповідач тужить за втратою своєї малої, локальної Батьківщини - Одеси. Він плекає образ Одеси своєї молодості - динамічного та мультикультурного міста, де усі містотворчі «плем‘я» та «раси» органічно уживаються та утворюють спонтанну гармонію. Процес втрачання цієї одеської Батьківщини розпочинається із раптового поширення та нормалізації юдофобських настроїв в місті. Саме в цей момент назріває початкове відчуження автора від міста. Не дарма, усіх головних єврейських героїв (четверо) спіткають нещастя та остаточне поривання зв‘язків з Одесою; і лише в одного єврейського героя, який принципово вирішує асимілюватися, майорить перспективне майбутнє в місті («але він не наш»).
Інакша велика біль стосується Батьківщини великої - єврейського народу. Оповідачу часто буває прикро, шо його друзі-співвітичизники не можуть належно відрефлексувати свою єврейську культурну ідентичність та згуртуватись до консолідованої та усвідомленої політичної дії. Одним із промовистих прикладів того було, коли одному із головних героїв - єврею Марко забаглося стати грузином, однак, в жодному разі не сіоністом, шо сприкрило оповідача. Протягом твору складається враження, що Жаботинському болить відсутність відчуття солідарності та патіротичної спільності серед євреїв. Він вказав наприкінці твору, що розуміє, що кожен народ має жити острівно, тобто окремішно в своєму закутку. І в цей період, євреї не мали такого закутку, чи то пак відособленого клаптика землі із відповідним суспільно-політичним оформленням; іншими словами — держави-Батьківщини.
З того що мені відомо, Жаботинський писав цей роман уже на схилку літ у тривалому відриві від своєї одеської пуповини, і помер він так і не встигши причалити до острова своєї мрії - самоврядної держави євреїв.
After reading the memoirs of Авраам Шифрин, I became interested in Russian/Soviet Zionists and fight of Jews for their own state. Of course, I could not ignore Владимир Жаботинский, "лидер правого сионизма, основатель и идеолог движения сионистов-ревизионистов, создатель Еврейского легиона и организаций «Иргун» и «Бейтар»; писатель, поэт, публицист, журналист, переводчик," who was born and raised in Odesa. Plus, he was a friend of Корней Чуковский -- what else do you need?!
So, when I saw this book and words "автобиографический роман" in the annotation, I thought that it was memoirs of Владимир Жаботинский himself and was eager to read it. Well, it is memoirs to some degree, of course, but it's essentially a story of another family, which Жаботинский considered very interesting and worth of remembering as a prominent portrait of the lost epoch. Therefore, my introduction to the life of Владимир Жаботинский is yet to come.
As for this book, it was interesting and not interesting reading simultaneously. I was pleasantly surprised by a very rich, dynamic, and maybe somewhat too flowery style of the author, but no doubts original and proficient. The family presented is also quite curious and peculiar in many aspects, but it was not the epoch and/or social layer I am usually interested in, and there are too many "vaudevillish" characters and behaviours for me, so the plot itself was not my cup of tea (I understand that this is not fiction, this is a real story about real people, and it might rightly look extraordinary for those who knew this family; I just do not like such stories, you know). However, you can notice a lot of entertaining and thought-provoking details about the life in Odesa on the cusp of the 19th and 20th centuries, when there was not even a hint for the impending revolution, but it was already not "the good old 19th century." ("Первые годы века тогда у нас назывались «весна» в смысле общественного и государственного пробуждения, а для моего поколения совпали также с личной весной в смысле подлинной двадцатилетней молодости.")
The story of Мильгром's family is unwraping on the background of the First World War, and awakening of liberal society, and first attempts of organized and armed resistance of Jews to pogroms, etc. I believe that anyone who is interested in this epoch will find a lot of fascinating details for reflection. Wikipedia writes about the book that is was "одно из лучших прозаических произведений 1930-х годов, однако почти не привлекшее внимание критики, но переизданное в России и Беларуси в 2000-х гг.," so probably I am just not the best critic to judge about it.
The Five: A Novel of Jewish Life in Turn-of-the-Century Odessa by Vladimir Jabotinsky (1880-1940), translated from the Russian and annotated by Michael R. Katz, introduction by Michael Stanislawski, 2005, Cornell University Press, was, according to Katz, “originally published in Paris in 1936, Pyatero was republished in New York in 1947 by the Jabotinsky Foundation. This is the text I have chosen to translate. From Michael Stanislawski’s introduction, I will quote some remarks. “Vladimir Jabotinsky was arguably the most controversial Jewish leader and public personality of the twentieth century. Born into the highly russified Jewish upper-middle class of Odessa, Jabotinsky at first resembled a member of the highly dejudaized upper bourgeoisie of twenty-first-century America more than the stereotypical Eastern European Jew of the nineteenth century. He knew no Yiddish or Hebrew to speak of, except for snippets gleaned from grandmothers’ talk or from meaningless bar mitzvah preparation to which ‘reading’ Hebrew was then, as now, a euphemism for its vocalized consonants with no consideration for their meaning… Rather, his entire linguistic and ideational world was Russian, and his aspiration in life, from his early teens on, was to become a Russian writer and a contributor to Russian literature… [That literature was caught in a] malaise of the fin-de-siecle—a Europe-wide epistemological, ontological, and aesthetic crisis in which thousands of talented creative spirits… shared… [The} malaise of the world was nationalism—for him… Jewish nationalism…. Ukrainian nationalism was a phenomenon that he, as a Jew-by-birth and a Russian-by-culture, could… never a part of.” The narrator, as a character is a platonic and journalistic observer. Jabotinsky left Odessa by 1908 and writing this novel by 1937 was rather in a position to Ireland’s James Joyce, a man talking and writing, with care and love, of a life, when young. The observer has little described character, and is observing an upper middle class Jewish family, five children, and people in their and the narrator’s circle of encounter over a few decades, the novel’s heroine, a daughter, Marusya, is the narrator’s friend and platonic protégé. She exemplifies a Jewish femininity, a Jewish motherhood, of sacrifice and tragedy, but also one taken up by thoughts of new possibilities for women. I think this conflict is reflected across the globe, in Frank Norris’s, The Pit, where the turn-of-the-century heroine, of strong-willed independence from Massachusetts, settles into a constrained marriage to a financial capitalist speculating in wheat futures, in Chicago. In the Odessa heroine, we have a woman constrained by limited life choices amidst the pogroms and revolution in the Odessa boomtown of grain traders, and cultural mixing. The pogroms and the revolution of 1905 are like distant rumbles in the book’s narration. I think the narrator mentions pogrom only once or twice, and the revolution is reflected in a servant who for a time becomes less subservient and burlier and brusquer. Some of the children become ensnared in arrests of a couple of the children, related to incidental or innocent presence among demonstrators. And one child becomes a gambler. The youngest boy decides, though he has not suffered as a Jew, only witnessed the suffering of others from afar, in a less financially secure place, decides being a Jew is still a pain, and it is much better to become an Orthodox Catholic. Jabotinsky, his narrator, and numerous of the children, do travel within Europe, and have a cosmopolitan viewpoint, and exist in a European milieu, including that of Italian Futurism, a militaristic nationalism, and they are also witnesses of the bombardment of Odessa by the battleship Potemkin, I think, over pay and the adverse results of the war with Japan. They are in a seaside hill, park area, observing the fireworks, which is causing the deaths of others, but to them is like, perhaps, watching a meteor shower, or—fireworks. “This year Marko [elder brother] was a ‘Nietzschean.’ Serezha had composed the following verses about him: ‘His pants have a hole in them, but he has fashionable ideas;/ A learned fellow who’s been left back in school three times.’ ‘That’s a specialty at home,’ he added. ‘Marusya insists that I compose verses about each one of her sightseers.’ His sister Lika, apparently also older than Serezha, ‘chewed her fingernails down to the bone and was now bored and angry at all of Odessa. ‘Torik was the youngest but the ‘foundation of the throne’: he understood everything so well that ‘your ears can fall off just listening to him.’” (page ten, chapter 2, Serezha) From chapter 3, In the Literary Circle, the narrator describes: “And here, near the private residence where the literary circle met (also closely resembling the villas I saw once in Sienna) began one of the descents into the abyss of the port; on quiet days you could smell the pitch and hear the echo of the grain elevators. Given the conditions of censorship at that time, our literary circle was an oasis of free speech… but whatever we talked about…everywhere was the rumble of sedition…” (page 14). “Looking back at all this some thirty years later, I think that the most curious thing about it was the good-natured fraternization of nationalities. All eight or ten tribes of old Odessa met in that club, and in fact it never occurred to anyone, even in silence, to note who was who. All this changed a few years later, but at the dawn of the last century we genuinely got along. “(page 15) About the change in the servant, chapter eight, My Porter: “I shared this remark with my friends: they all confirmed it. The class of porters was rising swiftly in standing and influence, being transformed into an important instrument of state power. Citizens thought they were storming the bastions of autocracy; in fact, the authorities had given the order to lay siege to fortresses—millions of them, each house, and the vanguard of the advancing army was already sitting in their cellar trenches on this side of the gate.” (page 46) Finally, “And God, if one can ever manage to reach Him, shake Him, wake Him, and berate Him with one’s worst curses about the big mess He’s created, and then make one’s peace with Him and lay one’s head in His lap—most likely, he too, is tenderness. And the very brightest tenderness is called woman. It was an amusing city; and laughter itself is a form of tenderness. By the way, there’s probably been no trace left of that Odessa for quite some time now, and there’s no reason to regret that I’ll never get back there; and, by and large, my story is finished.” (Chapter 29, L’envoi, page 201) https://youtu.be/qhHcE070_TE?si=-0aCk...
Jabotinksy tells us the story of the Milgroms (and Odessa) and its eventual decline through the eyes of a friend of the family. As a result, this story is told in a fragmentary way, lacking a clear red line other than (impending) doom. In the beginning I found this way of writing frustrating as even halfway through the book I was waiting for the plot to unfold. Once I realised however, that I should treat every chapter as some story on its own, I started to appreciate Jabotinsky's style. Like a true great Russian Novelist à la Tsjechov he manages to squeeze a lot of debt in few pages, sometimes by his descriptions, sometimes by the philosophical contemplations. While written in 1935, this book should be treated as a classical Russian novel, as it has all the qualities. Still, no 5 stars as it frustrated me in the beginning.
Gli scrittori di Odessa, da quel poco che ho letto, partono sempre leggeri e concludono lasciandoti un poco di magone. Innanzi tutto: chi è il protagonista del romanzo? La famiglia Mil’grom e la sua personale diaspora? La città di Odessa? L'appartenenza alla popolazione ebraica? Scarterei i cinque fratelli del titolo, le cui vicende, le quali fanno parte di una narrativa frammentata che ben rende l'idea della decadenza della famiglia, sono in fondo dei presta-volto per rappresentare i cittadini ebraici in un tempo e in un luogo che fu, nei loro confronti, più tollerante di altri.
Книга неплоха, но неплоха она "локальным образом". Если вас после слова Odessa тянет уточнить, Техас ли это или Флорида, или вообще Онтарио, — скорее всего вам эта книга будет пустым местом. Если же у вас за словом "Одесса" тянутся говор, юмор, порто франко — тогда вы поймёте, о чём она. Нынешние евреи нахваливают её за точную передачу самоощущения евреев начала XX века, брожения тогдашних идей в их головах и переплетений дорог, которые они выбирали или им выбирали. Мне сложно оценить эту точность, я не еврей, не одессит, не историк. Но вижу немало неточностей и недооценок "украинского трека", и это мешает мне отдаться повествованию с полным доверием. С удивлением увидел в аннотации сравнение с Достоевским: на мой взгляд, это антиподы, а не симпатики. Я бы скорее сравнил с Маркесом: тоже история города и народа, данная в частностях одного большого семейства, персонажей сплошь ярких и трагичных. В то же время, стиль повествования напоминает скорее добрую сказку с анекдотами и лирическими разветвлениями, чем историю. И рассказана она так же неким "прозрачным" персонажем, который вроде и всему очевидец, и во все перипетии вовлечён, ну хоть наслышан, — но по большому счёту в романе его нет. Правда, на мой вкус, Жаботинский на маркесовские глубины не выходит, и лирика его не столь универсальна. Но зато многим в моём кругу история Одессы и евреев в Одессе куда ближе Южной Америки, и я и сам не избавлен от такой близости. Потому книгу прочёл, не без интереса, могу порекомендовать. В то же время нахожу её небесталанным искусственным конструктом, в историографичность её не верю. Хотя безусловно, львиная доля баек, и уж тем более идиом и топонимов, взяты из реального городского фольклора и имеют крепкие корни в реальности.
Vladimir Jabotinsky ist vor allen Dingen bekannt als eine der Zentralfiguren des Zionismus, sozusagen der militante Nachfolger Herzels. Ich wusste bislang nicht, dass er auch als Schriftsteller tätig war.
Dieser 1935 erschienene Roman zeichnet die Geschichte einer jüdischen Familie im Odessa der Jahre 1890 bis 1908 nach, die -exemplarisch gezeigt an den Kindern- zwischen Tradition und Moderne, Assimilation, Revolution und Ideologie zerrieben wird. Lebhaft und unterhaltsam ist die Geschichte, wie in einem Roman von Singer. Zugleich öffnet sich eine Tür zu einem eher unbekannten Flecken der Geschichte.
An underrated and undeservingly forgotten classic and masterpiece that deserves more attention. It's a masterful exploration of turn of the century Odessa, society, and the complex change it finds itself in. ________
Ein zu unrecht vergessener Klassiker und ein Meisterwerk, das mehr Aufmerksamkeit verdient. Jabotinsky gelingt eine meisterhafte Erforschung Odessas um die Jahrhundertwende, seiner Gesellschaft und all den komplexen Veränderungen, in denen sie sich selbst wiederfindet.
Großartig. Nichts will ich nun lieber als Wassermelone essend durch Odessa ziehen, hinauf und hinab der potemkinischen Treppe, den Blick zum Meer gerichtet. Schöne sprachliche Finessen, obwohl das russische Original bestimmt nicht erreicht wird und eine scharfe politische Analyse der Situation der selbgestellten Judenfrage im Osteuropa vor dem ersten Weltkrieg ohne Folklore und ohne ideologische Moralität- doch nicht ohne Witz und Ironie.
Книга произвела сильное впечатление. На фоне исторических разрушений и роста города Одессы разворачиваются судьбы героев романа "Пятеро". Каждый из них по-своему уникален, и каждая история — словно отражение времени, в котором они жили. Их жизни, как и сама страна, оказались в руинах, но в этих развалинах есть и боль, и сила, и надежда. Роман можно с уверенностью отнести к жанру семейной саги — глубокий, многослойный, наполненный живыми чувствами и исторической правдой.
The Five by Vladimir Jabotinsky was recommended to me as a forgotten Russian work on par with Turgenev, but I think it fell far short of that mark. The characters were only partially developed overall, and only a few felt fully fleshed-out. The setting and the time were described well, I think, but the plot just seemed to wander without point.
Who would have thought that Jabotinsky was a fiction writer? Not me! This story is very much of a time and place, and yet many of the struggles of growing up and figuring out who you are, are still fresh. A story that made me want to learn more about Odessa -- and Jabotinsky himself! It turns out he was a politician and fighter, but also a dreamer and romantic.
Beautifully written in an old-world, Russian novel sort of way. Interesting look back (written in 1935) to Odessa circa 1905. Surprising end to the characters but also somewhat predictable. A few subplots not in keeping with the time, but most are.
L’auteur a écrit en 1936 ce livre qui relate l’histoire des cinq enfants de la famille juive Milgrom d’Odessa au tout début du XXème siècle. Chacun a une trajectoire bien différente mais leur point commun reste la ville d’Odessa et sa communauté cosmopolite. Un très bel hymne à Odessa.
Очень впечатлила книга, и с точки зрения описанных характеров, и с точки зрения языка. И еще - она очень одесская. Наверное, нужно довольно долго прожить в Одессе, чтобы прочувствовать ее как следует.
Zonder voorkennis niet te doen. Na het lezen van Wikipedia ging het iets beter, maar oubollig taalgebruik, ellenlange beschrijvingen vol onbekende verwijzingen en erudiet vertoon. Nawoord van de vertalers was nog het boeiendst.