Night

by Vedrana Rudan

Not since Louis-Ferdinand Celine's Ferdinand Bardamu has a character appeared in fiction with such a bitter, ironic, hysterically ranting voice. Tonka a fifty-something woman spending the night watching TV before leaving her husband for a younger man rails against all of society, from attacks on America to complaints about commercials, from the passive nature of most married women to the way corporations control the world.With shocking honesty and anger, she pours out her soul to an imaginary audience, interspersing her rants with the story of her difficult life, the suffering experienced during the Yugoslav war, and the affairs she and her best friend have with the same man.

Genres: Fiction, Novels

211 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2002

Reviews

[Tonkica · Rating 2 out of 5]

Uh.. :-/
Nacin pripovijedanja me podsjetio na par osoba koje poznajem. Nervozno, isfrustrirano, bez kraja i konca, vracanje na pravu pricu nakon sto smo zaglibili s nilskim konjima u dokumentarcu koji je nekada gledala. Ono kada si ljut na sebe, ali u biti na druge, kada ti nista vise ne znaci.. Ostaje samo gorak okus negative i niceg dobrog.. :(
Puno su mi draze njezine novije prepiske, te im se veselim u skoroj buducnosti.

[L.S. Popovich · Rating 1 out of 5]

There is something to be said for the contrarian spirit in literature, but without context, lyricism or reason, it can become exploitive spite. This 200-page monolog was static, unjustifiable, vapid, in poor taste, without aesthetic merit, a series of unsubtle political statements without accompanying viewpoints, and a mean-spirited rant. For instance, if one is outraged at the presence of Serbs in Croatia, and one is going to tell the reader this on nearly every page, wouldn't it be prudent to provide a reason, even if that reason is personal and biased? Reasons might be discerned at a few key points, but not early on, when they would aid the American reader most.

If you enjoy unfiltered diaries with a hint of dark, crude humor this novel might click for you. I could attach hundreds of descriptors and epithets to this book, none of them flattering, but suffice it to say that it did not advocate itself as a worthy use of my time.

I read 64 pages and utilized speed-reading for the latter half.

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 4 out of 5]

Vedrana Rudan is the Lucy Ellmann of Croatia. That will mean nothing to most of you, so I recommend you read this in tandem with Doctors and Nurses and sit in your chair plump with indignation.

Like Lucy, her tone is one of constant raging hormonal madness, blasting everything from the Serbs, the Croats, men, women, children, work, life, well . . . little is sacred in this woman's bleak and bitter rant.

Some may be offended by the personal insults to the reader (we are called "cunts" more than five times throughout), but this rant serves a greater purpose: to underline the insanity and inhumanity of wartime life during the Serb/Croat conflict. Some scenes will make you upchuck your liver. Powerful stuff.

[Adam · Rating 2 out of 5]

The rant is a fickle thing: one minute you sound like the genuine messiah barking fire and brimstone, the next you're sputtering directionless vulgarities and nobody in the checkout lane will even look at you. Rudan's is certainly brash and vitriolic, occasionally funny and astute, but after a (short) while it just became repetitive and unrewarding. Shock value depreciates rapidly. A lightning quick read, at any rate.

[Oriana]

Apparently Vedrana hates everyone -- even her readers.

I will read the shit out of someone who calls me a cunt for doing so.

[Bruno · Rating 2 out of 5]

Užas! Dosta hrvatskih postmodernista voli pisati svakodnevnim i neknjiževnim jezikom i stilom. Kod Vedrane u slučaju ove knjige to je preuveličano van proporcija do toga da se pogubi čitava poanta priče — ni dan danas ne znam koja je!? Ovo je jednostavno bilo roncanje na 170 strana bez ikakve radnje. Moram priznati da mi se zadnji dio jako svidio, ali opet ne vidim kako se uklapa u čitavu knjigu. Ono što želim reći je: definitivno ne kupujte ovu knjigu, ako je kojim slučajem imate ili je dobijete besplatno, pročitajte samo zadnjih 20 strana.

[Marina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brutalno. U pozitivnom i negativnom smislu. Za ljude s malo jačim želucem i živcima. Ne znam hoću li opet ići nešto njezino čitati...vjerojatno hoću, ali se trebam malo odmoriti. Toliko iskreno, toliko psovki i vulgarnosti, ali opet iskreno. A to joj ne možeš zamjeriti. Izaziva te i uvijek je korak ispred tebe.

[Bee Hewbie · Rating 1 out of 5]

Not for me, endless monologue and felt like the exact sort of character that a level drama students would drool over doing

[Uroš Martinović · Rating 3 out of 5]

Uffff. Još uvek ne mogu jasno da formiram mišljenje tipa ,,sviđa mi se/ne sviđa mi se", pa neka bude 3⭐.

[Nina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Inače volim njene knjige ali ova mi je bas bila nekako histerična. Umorila me

[Rhonda · Rating 2 out of 5]

not for me!

[Gabrijel Knežević · Rating 3 out of 5]

The books of Vedrana Rudan are not for everyone. I have always considered them a form of psychotherapy for the author, one she never wanted to attend, but realized she could earn a few kunas/euros from. Her work is pure stream of consciousness. Many are reluctant to admit it, but it awakens primal urges in the reader, the desire to consume the "forbidden fruit" that we all occasionally want to taste. Through her work, she showcases a modern, third-rate "aesthetics of ugliness" that many underestimate, while at the same time, these same people are unaware that they daily absorb all sorts of garbage from TikTok, media, conspiracy theories, etc., and similarly interpret it with their pagan words on social networks for which they are not competent. Vedrana Rudan's books stir up the complexities of double standards in society. Nothing is sacred to her, but one must dare to do that. This is miles away from quality literature, but if you think you can create something so brilliantly bad, go ahead and try.

[Brandon Prince · Rating 3 out of 5]

Alternately exhausting and terrifying. A mainline assault of panic and psychological fragmentation, rooted in the turbo capitalist and nationalist hell of postwar Yugoslavia. Think of someone who wheedles into your life and treats you like their therapist; or perhaps of Deniro caught in the taxi cab with Scorsese’s cameo, interrupting (and insulting) you even when you’re completely silent, for 200pp. If Drndic is Croatia’s Bernhard, ie the alienated petty bourgeois academic with left wing sympathies, than Rudan is the Celine or Houellebecqian expression of petty-bourgeois alienation with distinctly right wing characteristics: frustrated, bitter, internalized xenophobia, and fierce petty hatreds. Terroristic writing.

[Jana · Rating 1 out of 5]

I can’t love her books when I find Vedrana annoying. Her life is an open book and it’s everywhere. I even don’t find her feminism, ears bleeding cursing, don’t give a fuck what people think about me – that spectacular and eye opening, but rather exaggerated and flat.

[Milos Vojinovic · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nesputani, svadljivi bes koji lupa šamare i hrvatskom i srpskom nacionalizmu, patrijarhalnom licemerju i svakom obliku (što lokalne što globalne) malograđanštine na koji naleti. Knjiga u kojoj se Vedrana Rudan najebala majke svima, bez pardona, uključujući i svoje čitatelje. I neka je.

[Megan · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is basically just a woman of dubious credibility and mental health complaining. It was often too vulgar for my taste, but sometimes the character makes an observation (esp about hypocrisy) that made me think, “Amen, sister!” So, I al rounding up from 2.5 for those moments.

[majstoricamagije · Rating 2 out of 5]

She is too agresive toward everything and everyone. Her language is rude. Her style is...what? She herself is't sure what she want.

[Heronimo Gieronymus · Rating 4 out of 5]

The write-up on the back of the Dalkey Archive edition of Vedrana Rudan's NIGHT wastes no time in dredging up the name of Louis-Ferdinand Céline. Well, we could hardly hold it against the canny folks over at Dalkey, now could we? We are told that this is a book written in a "bitter, vulgar, hysterically ranting voice." I will presumably not be the only person sold on NIGHT, a novel by a writer concerning whom, at the time of purchase, I did not previously possess any knowledge, by virtue of this marketing. It's hardly the only shit I'm into, but I definitely do need a savage misanthropic spree now and then. A paradox, perhaps: I find a periodic bilious outpouring necessary for the maintenance of my (mostly functionally becalmed) spiritual condition. Does NIGHT scratch that particular itch? Oh, certainly! It is very fine, endearingly nasty. Of course the great twin masters of the bilious modernist literary outpouring are Céline and Thomas Bernhard. Is Vedrana Rudan one of their company? Yes and no. You will note that I characterize the writing of each deceased Euro-master as modernist. NIGHT, on the other hand, would pretty much have to be labelled an exemplary postmodern novel. Its postmodernity can be detected in its collapsing of high and low as well as its general self-reflexivity, but I think what is most central here is the novel's relationship with irony. Irony suggests a position of provisional remove. The novel becomes less simply what it is doing and more 'about' what it is doing. Perhaps the most common way irony works is by letting us know that the speaker (or writer) doesn't literally mean what he or she is saying even though he or she does kind of maybe literally mean it a little. This is the game Rudan is more or less playing. As such, NIGHT needs to be understood as a self-consciously comic work in a way that Céline and Bernhard's novels, though often sprinkled with gallows humour, are not. I have had some Croatian friends over the years, and I have often noted the dryness of their very-often-considerable wit. Rudan strikes me as being emblematic of something like a Croatian sensibility, though she takes things to decidedly carnivalesque extremes. Those who have read Mikhail Bakhtin on the subject of the carnivalesque will be familiar with how central to carnival are hierarchy-flouting, irreverence, and general impiety put to the service of lampooning everyday life and the power relations endemic to it. NIGHT does not feel in the least like it was created as a means to some kind of purge. Rather it seems like a calculated way of undermining institutions and cultural values, all in the name of naughty fun. I suspect that writing it was liberating but probably not especially unburdening. Anarchic joie de vivre rather than act of psychic revenge. The style of the novel is colloquial, digressive, and highly informal (our narrator, after all, is extemporizing at length in bed in the middle of the night whilst flipping channels on a muted television). Recent history is discussed, workaday frustrations abound, popular culture figures repeatedly. These things again serve to distance the novel from modernist forebearers. I'm not sure one could get much out of this novel without being conscious of being in on the joke. Another way that NIGHT might be said to represent the postmodern in exemplary fashion lies in its orientation around issues related to ethnic identity and hybridity, especially as relates to the situation of the Balkans at the dawn of the twenty-first century and in the wake of horrible conflagration. The dividing line between Croat and Serb has to continue to present itself as rigid, in deference to habit, but this is problematized in all manner of ways. There is a kind of delicious congruence in the fact of the narrator's perhaps having been fathered by a Serbian and the eventual adaptation of Rudan's novel into a one-woman stage show ... in Serbia. Many of the sacred cows brazenly befouled in NIGHT are local ones, but the novel itself is demonstrably locally-global. I suspect that women raised to be subservient people-pleasers in stifling patriarchal enclaves far and wide (certainly those who find society's expectations regarding them at least somewhat vexing) will be the readers most likely to find in this inflammatory novel something like a consoling breath of fresh air.

[Quincessential · Rating 2 out of 5]

There was a point in my life when I thought it was my duty—and the duty of every woman—to read Vedrana Rudan's novels. Now, after reading my first novel by this author, I see that what I thought was wrong.

I really disliked the main character, Tonka, not just because she was a foul-mouthed woman cheating on her husband, but because she behaved poorly toward animals (spiders and pigeons). I also really hated the "gotcha" moment at the end, as it made Tonka's whole raison d'être feel completely void.

I am not sure what the point of this meandering plot was—this flow of thought, at times nauseating and at times amusing, from an unreliable narrator. Was it meant to convey shock value through gruesome war imagery and foul language coming from a woman? Was it feminism? A “f*ck you” to Croatian post-war society?

I am not sure who the intended audience for this novel is, but I didn’t need this author to teach me about the atrocities and realities of war. I know what war is; I’ve lived through one, thank you very much.

[Jelena Hiblović · Rating 4 out of 5]

Besna u afektu napisana knjiga. Rudan pljuje po svemu što joj padne šaka. Kraj mi je malo bezveze. Na trenutke sam se baš lepo ismejala. Sirovo i žestoko.


" Ne znam tko je muškarcima rekao da moraju jebati satima. Da je to ono pravo. Da je za ženu uvredljivo ako muškarac svrši za samo sat vremena. Pizdarija. A to možete gledati u svim filmovima. Čitati u knjigama. U stručnij literaturi..... ono. Na leđa. Pa na trbuh. Pa ne diraj mi ga. Pa molim te,grebi mi malo jaja! Pa pusti ga! Pa ostavi ga malo! Pa polizi mi uho! Pa stavit ću ti malo jezik u uho! Pa ugrizi za guzicu! Pa mlo me ugrizi za guzicu! Pa baš me ugrizi za guzicu! ...pa još malo,malo,malooooo,samo... mallooooo! Pa zašto si to učinila?!"
Hahahaah

[Milica Vujić · Rating 3 out of 5]

Vrlo cudna knjiga od koje sam ocekivala vise. Ipak, posle sam videla da je ovo prvenac Vedrane Rudan pa mozda kritike i nisu (toliko) opravdane.
Glavna junakinja je pedesotogodisnjakinja koja nepomicno lezi pred televizorom i dok ga gleda, komentarise razne zgode iz svog zivota, ali i daje ne tako blago kritiku celog drustva. Sintakticka i semanticka se strana romana potpuno slazu pa histeričan nacin pripovedanja preslikava stanje psihema (i obrnuto). Povremeno se u romanu provlace sintagme "glava bez jezika" i "jezik bez glave", to je poruka celog teksta ako se mene pita.

[drugarica češi · Rating 2 out of 5]

Tonka Babić nam u noći kada čeka ljubavnika, uz 5 pojedenih Dorina čokolada, govori o sebi. Pripoveda o svom životu, društvenim okolnostima koje su oblikovale nju kao ženu, ali i društvu kao takvom.

Vedrana Rudan je uvek osveženje, njen oštar jezik i još oštriji um odmah se bacaju na posao - disekciju društva bez poštede i tu joj niko nije ravan.

Ipak, ovo je njena knjiga koja se meni najmanje obraćala (od pročitanih), i to je okej. Verujem da ona ne bi marila za moje utiske, ona je došla da ispriča i ispričala je. Idemo dalje, radujem se čitanju sledeće Vedranine knjige i to bi bilo to.

[Strasna Mera · Rating 4 out of 5]

Opasna knjiga! Zahteva strpljenje, skoncentrisanost i jak zeludac. O cemu je knjiga? O svemu! O ljudima. O ljudima u ratu.
Kratke recenice, pripovedanje takvo da podseca na tok svesti, dosta psovki, prepuna reminescencija na apsolutno sve sto nam se desavalo od '45. Cini mi se da je iznenada prekinuta pa otuda 4. Sigurna sam da cu joj se jos nekada vracati.

[Gosia Kowalska-Kiszka · Rating 3 out of 5]

Warto przeczytać, choć ciężko. Strumień myśli głównej bohaterki, mimo że czasami całkiem przenikliwy, trudno jest okiełznać.
Kompletnie się nie dziwię, że Janda wzięła to na warsztat - cały czas wyobrażałam sobie, że to ona wykrzykuje te cierpkie i niezdyscyplinowane zdania, i idealnie mi to pasowało.

[svekrva · Rating 2 out of 5]

Sljedeći put ako budem čitala nešto od Vedrane Rudan, to znači da me neko drži na nišanu i tjera.

[Ada · Rating 3 out of 5]

Monolog, który wygląda jak wybrakowany dialog. Ostry język.

[morosin · Rating 4 out of 5]

ovo ko da je robert kumerle pisal

[Irena · Rating 4 out of 5]

p. 57: Kad vas je posljednji put bilo tko slušao? Baš slušao? Ne čekao da zatvorite otvor pa da on otvori svoj. Jeste li kad gledali svoju djcu dok im govorite? Kad ja svojoj Aki nešto govorim, ona me gleda, a desnom rukom drka po mobitelu i šalje poruke. "Samo ti govori. Ja te slušam!" Ja onda govorim. Ne želim da pomisli kako znam da me ne sluša. Kužite. Ne želim da joj bude neugodno. Ja se ponašam kao da je Aki netko tko me voli. Voli me kurac. Jebe se njoj za mene. Ona ima svoj život o kome ja ne znam ništa. [...] Svaka smo u svom filmu. Svaka iz uta izvlači svoju žvaku.

p. 140: To što se Ela i Miki jebu, to je njihova stvar. Samo, počela me zajebavati. Donositi mi doma ogromne količine diskova. Znate šta?! Dižem se iz kreveta!! Pa ću vam izdiktirati samo neke naslove! Samo neke naslove od dvij ili tri ili pet stotina naslova koji leže u mom dnevnom boravku. [...] OK. Slušajte! U rukama držim pet komada teškog sranja. Slušajte! Čitam. Dijana Kral, The Look of Love, pa opet jedno sranje, More Best of Leonard Cohen, pa još jeno govno, Santana, pa opet jedan drkadžija, The Very Best of J.J. Cale, pa, ovo, ovo je nebesko drkanje, ovo Buena Vista Social Club...Kužite?! Kužite moju frku? Jeste li ikad čuli za te drkadžije?! Eto vidite! Dodajte njima još milijun drkavaca! Koje ja moram slušati kad Ela dođe k meni. Jer je Ela tako, jli, dok prokletnici drkaju po gitarama i pjevaju...Čekajte! Oni ne pjevaju! Jebeni Koen, na primjer! Taj drkadžija ne pjeva! On šapuće. Tako je šaputao naš mesar Mihajlo prije nego je operirao rak grla. Sada šuti. Hvala bogu. Srpsko govno lažljivo. Čitavog je rata, jebeni srpski Koen, šaputao da je Hrvat. Sada ne može govoriti pa po ceduljicama piše da je Hrvat. Idu mi na kurac Srbi Hrvati! OK. Kad te šarene drkadžije tule ili šapuću ili drkaju po gitari ili lupaju po bubnjevima svih oblika, jebo im pas mater, u mom dnevnom boravku, Eli se čini da je Miki "u zraku".

[Tonymess · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fancy spending a night with Tonka? She’s a foul-mouthed mother of one, who is watching tv with the volume turned down and a remote control in her hand. Besides the insomnia, she’s awaiting dawn where she’ll leave her husband, Kiki , for a younger man, Miki.

Welcome to the protagonist from hell, created by Croatian writer Vedrana Rudan. In an interview with Dalkey Archive Press, Ana Lucic said to Rudan “You use a lot of vulgarities. Not a style of writing is usually associated with women writers”, the response?

“I have never thought of myself as a “woman.” I am a human being who lives in a country in an age that allows the poor only one weapon in their duel with life, and that’s swearing. Swearing is the scream of a victim, their only normal way of speech. If they don’t swear aloud, they swear inside. There are many people out there who, after they read my book, realized what rage was brewing inside them. I am a loser, I don’t have lots of money, I don’t have power. But, I have an opportunity to express my rage and not many people have this opportunity. I didn’t want to break any rules, I didn’t even know that there were rules in literature. And this thing about how some people think only men can swear”

This is a 211 page work, which has a short prologue (explaining that Tonka is addressing us, as though an actress in a one person play) and then one “break”. It features long paragraphs that continue for numerous pages. Our “monologue” is being addressed to us (the reader), who interrupts every so often with an inane question. The basic plot of a sleepless, damaged woman, venting her hatred of the planet, whilst she prepares to run away with a younger man captures you from the opening lines of the main book itself:

For my full review go to http://messybooker.blogspot.com.au/20...

[Mike · Rating 4 out of 5]

words 3, 4, and 5 of the blurb are "louis" "-ferdinand" "celine", should let you know what you're in for. it's cool to be abused as a reader/voyeur.

I know that after an abortion women have no right to either to food or to water or to tea or anything. You can't give a fucking slut who has just killed a human being, who prevented the growth of tiny hands and little feet, who has extinguished shining eyes and laughter and joy, you can't give a slut like that lunch. Unless it was going to be her last lunch. But it wouldn't be. Imagine the expression on the nurse's face when some little slut like me twenty-five years ago asked for rice pudding! Just imagine that expression! It's not being spoiled, crazy or stupid. It's effrontery! Provocation! Screaming! Shrieking, what's your problem, you shits! Fuck you! I'm master of my body!


I felt like those poor bastards in the park when they open their coats and show a nun their big cock and she, instead of shrieking in horror and grabbing her rosary or something else hanging around her virginal neck, just stops, goes over to the big cock and takes it between her thumb and forefinger. That's how I felt. Horrible feeling.