We will not consider the personal politics or prejudices of this author. Our focus is rather to quell the legions of followers who attend my words throughout the globe. Let's forget the bad stuff that every country produces. Instead, we will recall some of the behemoths and wonders that France has purveyed.

There are great artists like Pissarro, Manet, Degas, Monet, and Gauguin. In the field of philosophy, we have Diderot, Sartre, Descartes, and Camus. In literature, Stendhal, de Balzac, and Hugo with his unrivaled masterpiece. In the culinary world, Escoffier, Roger Verge, and Bocuse.

There is also the passionate 'Ne me quitte pas' by Jacques Brel from Belgium. The beautiful regions of Loire, Provence, Dordogne, and Paris. The iconic landmarks like the Eiffel tower, the Louvre, Notre-Dame, and Versailles.

Yes, the omissions are too great, but it's impossible to cover them all. Who is this guy Celine and what is 'Journey into the End of the Night'? I saw characteristics of other authors I've read in this work.

I don't read reviews before or after reading a book. But if anyone gave it less than five stars, it's not hard to tell the reason. It's not a story for everyone. Once you've visited the world Celine has depicted, it's hard to return.

If you liked 'The Alchemist,' this might not be for you. There's no imminent change. We are what we are, base. If I were to teach a literature class to adults over forty, this would be on the syllabus, and I'd probably get fired.

There's a lot of autobiography in his fiction. He was an iconoclast, a nihilist, a misanthrope, and an awesome humorist. But aren't we all, to some degree? Celine deals with our apprehensions courageously. Accepting what we hide from ourselves is not easy.

There aren't many honest accounts of existence. It's hard to sell because it's ephemeral, evanescent, nocuous, and random. We recall our hurts, our screams, our disenfranchisement. We are reduced to nothingness. We are challenged to embrace the absurdity.

Would you pay for a ticket to a carnival where everyone is stripped naked? Celine would call this humanity. We enter this repulsive circus at birth and we are the actors today. This is great stuff, but what do you read after this?

Apparently, for about a week in June 1997, something strange happened to me. Either I completely lost my sense of humor or I was overcome by an unexpected glow of optimism that made the misanthropic subject of this book seem rather boring. My main memories of reading it for the first time were, firstly, being bored out of my mind and, secondly, purchasing a bunch of The Smiths and The Cure tapes at a garage sale.

For some unknown reason, when I saw this book sitting on my bookshelf last week, I had an urge to give it another go. Why? I'm not entirely sure. I have numerous unread books, but for some reason, I felt that I might not have fully grasped everything this book had to offer.

This time around, I actually quite enjoyed the book. It serves as a great antidote to the feeling that things were somehow better "back in the day." It's always good to cleanse the mental palate of such delusions now and then. The truth is, things were bad then too. This means that if there's a constant in a large number of people being worthy of disgust, then grumbling about it too much can be both i) fun, but also ii) a tautology, and thus ii.a) not really relevant and ii.b) not at all applicable to the discourse of progress/barbarism/or whatever you want to call it. For example, does the fact that most people are shitty fucking assholes have anything to do with all those douchebags wandering around, completely oblivious to anything but their own phone conversations? Is pointing out all the assholes and defining them as such really any different from stating that all people have heads and most of them have hair on their heads? And then basing most of what you say on the headedness/hairedness of people? No! Instead, is it possible that, in a Kantian categorical something or other, people can be a priori described as assholes? Of course, all of them except for you and your loved ones, and me and my loved ones. We are, of course, the exception. Now, I'm not saying that everyone is a piece of shit. And neither is Céline. In fact, there is one character in the book who isn't an asshole!! One!! There is still hope for us, although sadly, that one decent person is stuck sitting on a river in Africa with one other person who is an asshole. But he's out there, you know, sort of like Kurtz.

Now, I could do a number of things here. I could provide a plot synopsis, also known as writing a book report. I could attempt to come up with some kind of serious analysis of the book. I could try to write a "mock" Céline style something or other, although that probably wouldn't be too funny. I could completely ignore the book and write about myself, using the book as a vague starting point; that is, write all about the types of people I hate and make myself seem like Céline. I could also post some pictures of animals, which I actually enjoy doing because then I can come back and look at them later, and I figure maybe you do too. I could do all kinds of things. I could just end this review here and then strike up a conversation with another Goodreads user who would actually be me in disguise, but we'd be really witty and surprisingly well-read in titles that aren't that common. Of course, I would vote for myself too, and if you tried to call me out on it, I would just ignore you and change the topic with myself. I could do any of these things. There are so many choices, and it's truly overwhelming in the various ways I can try to manipulate votes, which can be redeemed for all the AMAZING prizes that are only available to those on the best reviewer list. Please don't ask for details about these prizes; I've already said too much.

The sadness of the world infiltrates people in diverse ways, and it almost always manages to succeed. When one starts to hide from others, it's a sign of fear of engaging with them, which in itself can be considered a kind of ailment. We should strive to understand why we resist being cured of loneliness.

  
“The sadness of the world has different ways of getting to people, but it seems to succeed almost every time.”

"When you start hiding from people, it's a sign that you're afraid to play with them. That in itself is a disease. We should try to find out why we refuse to get cured of loneliness. "
  

Reading Journey is like listening to a drunk old man, the kind often seen in cowboy movies, revealing why his life is a mess. He can't discuss a woman without fixating on her legs, and there are women he mentions solely to talk about their bodies. Additionally, there are a few racist remarks.

However, it's not as if he treats others any better. There isn't a single character in the entire book who hasn't been the subject of jokes. Céline is that sort of person - he can't have an acquaintance you don't want to flee from or a boss who doesn't embody all the negative connotations of the word. He might not be the kind of person you'd enjoy being around in real life.

But be cautious, as it might be a trap. He didn't even mention the part where he showed bravery during World War I.

We are discussing Céline because the novel is somewhat autobiographical - his works are referred to as 'creative confessions', whatever that might imply.

Nevertheless, reality is overshadowed in the story. Every character, except the narrator, is a stereotype. There is no real plot, and the prose is nothing special. The only aspect of the book that can be considered poetic is the title, taken from Song of the Swiss Guards, 1793:

  
"Our life is a journey Through winter and night, We look for our way In a sky without light. "

No plot, no profound characters, simple prose with regular doses of quotable reflections, and a plethora of satirical, cynical, and sarcastic jokes - it constantly reminded me of Kurt Vonnegut Jr., who, by the way, has listed him as an important influence.

I don't think you'll discover much in there that you don't already know - but nonetheless, what is in there isn't said often enough in literature. Remember the alien test? Its ordinariness is what makes it so brilliant. Now, isn't this the kind of thing an emo or cynic sitting in a college canteen would say:

"Just plain living, what a drag! Life is a classroom, and boredom is the monitor, always keeping an eye on you, you have to look busy at all costs, busy with something fascinating, otherwise he comes and corrodes your brain. A day that's nothing more than a lapse of twenty- four hours is intolerable. Like it or not, a day should be one long, almost unbearable pleasure, one long coitus."

He is filled with nihilism - wars are senseless, the rich are better off than the poor, and the young are better off than the old. He strips life of all the colorful trappings we adorn it with - and discovers the ugly truth beneath. Everything done in the name of nationalism, religion, and love is hypocrisy.

  

"Misery is like some horrible woman you've married. Maybe it's better to end up loving her a little than to knock yourself out beating her all your life. Since obviously you won't be able to bump her off. "

He feels repulsed when seeing the misery of the poor and their dying children. At times, he would let his poorer patients go without asking for payment:

  

  "When you get paid by the rich, you feel like a flunky, by the poor like a thief. How can you take a fee from people who can't afford to eat or go to the movies? Especially when they're at their last gasp. It's not easy. You let it ride. You get soft- hearted. And your ship goes down."
  

Despite his attempts at humor, you can sense an angst building within him that will later lead him towards fascism.

Perhaps that's what happens when we look at reality too closely - we'll want to destroy the world. Maybe we're not meant to know the truth; it's better left veiled in songs and movies.

  

  "Truth is inedible."
  

Perhaps that's the real choice for us - to be hypocrites or to be murderers.

  

  “And where, I ask you, can a man escape to, when he hasn’t enough madness left inside him? The truth is an endless death agony. The truth is death. You have to choose: death or lies. I’ve never been able to kill myself.”

Perhaps... beat it.

  

"Philosophizing is simply one way of being afraid, a cowardly pretense that doesn't get you anywhere.”

Now, the title, cover, and this review might give you the impression that it's a really sad book, which it isn't. Then there's that label of misanthropy - which is mostly an exaggeration. And what's with these titles? I kept avoiding this one because of its uninviting title. Shouldn't humorous books have better titles? Don't judge a book by its title. Here are some other humorous books I've read: Dead Souls, Slaughterhouse Five, Devil's Dictionary, Demons.

And now here are some of the scary books I have read: Tell-tale heart, Tin Drum, Room and Pride and Prejudice.

Some one-liners from Céline:

  

  
"On close consideration, there are two main classes of chick, the "broad- minded" ones and the ones who've had "a good Catholic upbringing."

"The dullest love dialogues are kind of amusing when you know the people."

"As a matter of principle, in all things and for all time, I agreed with the boss."

Success? Yes, it's really a great success.

I could come across a passage in the book and say, "Wow, how can it express human emotions and realities so accurately? And with such sincerity that perhaps no one has the courage to express to themselves."

And of course, sometimes I could also come across a passage and say, "Enough, you've taken my soul away. :))))) "

There are many good passages for writing and expressing again, but I'll just take this one for the review.

|Let others say and think whatever they want, but the reality is that life abandons us even before we abandon it forever. One day, you decide that for the things you had the greatest passion for in daily life, you will speak less and less. And when this is necessary, of course, it takes a lot of effort. You get tired of hearing your own words... You speak less... You hold back... It's been sixty years since you started speaking... Your heart no longer wants to be right with you... Even the little pleasure you had reserved for yourself is disappearing... You are becoming alienated from yourself.|

And I don't know why its printing is prohibited in Iran and we have to read it online so that both its pages and our eyes are filled. -.-

But with this work, Selin proves how extraordinary she is.

By the way, I liked Mr. Farhad Ghabraei's translation.

In that world when the angels do not come and the unbelievers ask what have you done in that world?

I will say I have not prayed but why Selin?

This simple statement holds a certain mystery and perhaps a hint of regret. It makes one wonder about the significance of not praying and the mention of Selin. Was there a special connection between the speaker and Selin that is related to this omission? Or is it a random thought that pops up in the face of the question about one's actions in that world?

Maybe the speaker is reflecting on the choices they made and realizing that not praying was a decision that now weighs on them. Selin could be a symbol of something important that was lost or overlooked.

Overall, this short passage leaves many questions unanswered and invites the reader to speculate and imagine the possible stories and emotions behind it.

Travel at the end of the night is a story of the turmoil of life in this world. We can all see ourselves in it, a place where poverty, war, vice, lies, meanness, and betrayal thrive, and yet we still strive in this world for the continuation of life, the struggle to obtain these degradations.

Perhaps it has also happened to you by chance that you have a book and in reading it and getting lost in it, you neglect. I tell you that if you have this book, it is even more obligatory to read it from the night bread.

The first book talks about war, the greatest folly of mankind. Then it also deals with other follies of man, each of which in a way causes corruption in humanity and society. But the author, like me the reader, believes that war is the ugliest and worst folly of man, a war that is the source of all evils.

Seline Maro also takes a journey from a geographical distance, from France and Europe, to the islands and the Africans and colonialism and poverty and the flak that has come upon them, to America and back to France. The beginning and corruption are not specific to one place, the whole world is full of meanness, full of ugly thoughts, full of unrestricted, a place where even a man becomes crazy with lust for love and what deeds they do in the name and pretext of love. Lack of commitment and unrestrained and unrestricted prevail in the book.

In wars, there are these poor people who die on the front line and the rest behind the scenes encourage more bloodshed and massacres.

Seline takes us to the end of the night, night meaning darkness and gloom.

Man ages quickly, and that too without any return in his work. When you get used to misfortune without intention and even like it, then you realize the matter. Nature is stronger than you. It tests you in its heart and then you can no longer get out of it. Your fate and destiny, without you knowing, take little serious help and then when you look back, you see that there is no longer time for change. You have become completely confused and will remain in this form forever.

We can grow old with a happy heart! Was death a burning mouth yesterday? Or for example last year? … Is your belief otherwise? … Alas, what shall we eat? … What? Youth? … We have never been young! …

I am very sad that it is all over

From the muddy battlegrounds of the great war,

where soldiers fought and died,

to the sweltering infested jungles of French colonial Africa,

we follow Céline's alter ego Bardamu.

He then discovers America,

takes a job in industrial Detroit,

and later returns to the suburbs of Paris

to work as a doctor.

Finally, he ends up in a mental asylum.

The misanthropic first-person narrative guides us through his trials and tribulations,

as he tries to make sense of the world around him.

Told as a semi-autobiographical novel,

Céline doesn't hold back his views.

He is mainly disgusted and bitter about the state of society.

The book was controversial on its release in 1932,

but in today's world, it seems pretty tame.

There are sexually degrading, anti-Semitic, and nihilistic elements,

but not on the scale I expected.

Céline's use of colloquial, coarse, and simple vocabulary,

along with Proustian sentences,

makes a visionary statement in his writing.

Jean-Paul Sartre was one of many fans.

For me, the book triumphs in its tone.

There is an elevation of sarcasm and wit throughout.

Sometimes the text is funny,

and other times it's more serious.

But you can never quite figure out what was intended and what wasn't.

It's an influential and important work,

huge in scope and not far off literary perfection.

One of the great prose stylists of the last century? Absolutely!

Maybe, just maybe, it's my new favorite novel.

Diego Armando Maradona, known as "The Hand of God," entered the list of the 100 best footballers of the 20th century in a poll conducted by an English football magazine at the 100th position. The hatred of the English, who invented football and had not listened since the 86th World Cup, caused such an absurdity.

Ah, let the French fans' eyes be blind. In literature, too, many lists are made. One of these lists is Le Monde's list of the 100 best books of the 20th century. Camus' "The Stranger" unfortunately ranked first on this list, and "Journey to the End of the Night" ranked 6th. Since the best book of the century has just ended, let's talk a little about the 6th book.

I first read "Journey" when it was newly published, when I was 24 years old. It was beautiful, I liked it, and although the book belonged to someone else, I underlined a lot of places. Thanks to the first publication of "Death in the Installment Plan" and the years that passed in between, I decided to return to Celine again. I first read "Professor Y" and then started "Journey."

Before we get into the text, let's say a few words about the presentation of the text to us. When you do a short research on "Journey," you will generally come across the following; it shook 20th-century literature deeply, did what was not done, became a turning point in the history of literature, made a revolution in the novel, and similar big words... Without agreeing with any of these and even bigger words, I can say with peace of mind that; when compared with works that have been carried to the same level in terms of influence in some places (Ulysses, The Man Without Qualities, The Death of Vergilius, and In Search of Lost Time), "Journey" is an anachronistic novel, a novel that belongs more to the 19th century than the 20th century. I have no problem with the 19th-century classics, I like them very much, but if the publication date of this work, which is said to have made a revolution, was 1876, no one would say how such a work was written in that period. I am trying to say that it is not realistic to say that "Journey" created a revolution in terms of plot, form, and technique. If it is said that it took the language of the street and brought it to literature, that language was already there for a long time. I am not saying these to slander the book, but rather to say that Caesar's right is Caesar's, and I think these praises would not matter much to Celine anyway. Nevertheless, Le Monde has prepared heavy words for you, and the state of that list is not like that. There is no Broch, Musil is 87, Joyce is almost 30, and I can very easily rank 5 books from Turkish literature that are better than "Journey." Let's move on from this injustice.

Another problem that can come between the text and the reader is Celine's political affiliation. As you know, Celine is a known "fascist" who hates Jews. He supported the Nazis who occupied France during World War II, published anti-Semitic writings, and later fled the country. However, it is unnecessary to establish a connection between these and the book and read the work from here. Because in the work, there is an anarchist, an anarchical-nihilist character who shows the basic emptiness where fascism is decided, other than a fascist, such as homeland, flag, heroism, noble blood, and French values, "equality, freedom, brotherhood," and who devours the face of blue, white, and red with longing. Yes, he is not a humanist, but in 1932, it was not a very correct timing to be or remain a humanist in the world. In the midst of the famine created by the two brutal, destructive, colonial wars of savage capitalism that has taken humanity into chaos and the 1929 crisis, I do not think that the truth of asking Celine "why aren't you a humanist" exists. But as I said, in "Journey," you will not encounter a fascist narrator, and no matter what his purpose is, you will continue on your way with a nihilist who wants to live and does not put any great country that comes from above between himself and his life. Just as Jean Genet, who is considered an enemy of all French values, or Heidegger, who joined the Nazi party in 1935, the search for truth in Celine must be looked at from here, as if the author of "Bardum," who considers "you have become bourgeois" as the worst insult he knows, unfortunately considered the fascist idea as the end of capitalism (Zizek called this a truth fraud in the offended subject) and was seriously wrong.

Now, leaving the character and the author aside, let's come to the text itself. "Journey" progresses in a linear plane in terms of plot, and in this regard, we are not faced with a difficult text. The only flaw that will make reading difficult is that some parts (the African part and the adventure of practicing medicine in the slums) seem to be a bit long and repetitive. In this regard, it is a work that can enter the hearts of every reader at every age. For me, the strongest part of the book was the approximately 150-page section that took place on the battlefields and behind the front lines in Paris. If this part was published independently of the general book, I could see it as the strongest anti-militarist, anti-war work I have read (along with "Article 22" and "The Butcher Shop No. 5"). At the same time, this section says very strong things about class differences. The heroism thrown from above and the honor of giving one's life for the homeland, which is not foreign to us, for some reason seems to be the privilege of the poor, the martyrdom sherbet does not visit the cemeteries with black eyes, and it seems that the tears shed by the Parisian aristocracy (you can change the name of the city as you wish) for the poor who are expected to deserve this by bleeding on the front also say something here.

After the war, Africa, the colony that gave its hand, the broken road to America, and the return home... We are following Celine, but there is this; Celine does not wander much. In front of us is a Bardum who carries his own troubles to every continent he goes to. The place is not the main subject, everything takes place in a skull called the brain, and something that we will call a novel that thinks in its name comes out in front of us. After that, we will encounter a passage of aphorisms with the label of underground literature with a lot of bad imitations. One of the much-loved but in my opinion weak aspects of the book is also these aphoristic sentences. I seem to like Celine more as a philosopher than as a writer. I care about the author having a problem, and if I am reading a novel, I care more about him telling this problem within literary limits, and most of the time, what I call great works passes through the literary treatment of this problem that cannot be expressed. However, in "Journey," I often felt that I was reading a novel, and I am very reluctant to read every idea of Celine, such as his hatred of human nature (which also exists in Thomas Bernhard and he describes this hatred very well), the admiration of the other for a great idea, and the claim that the only reality is hippopotamuses, as long as I am not forced to give up my literary taste.

Despite a lot of flaws that will be dwelled on at length, I especially recommend this novel to young readers, with the caveat of being different from its kind.

Finally; for reading this novel, which takes place in the most desperate period of the century, in accordance with the spirit of the era, starting it in the army and finishing it in the infirmary, for seeing industrial capitalism as "the most terrifying thing I have ever seen" for the Ford factory operating in the assembly line system where you worked in Detroit, despite a world war, dozens of corpses and filth, the atrocities in the French colonies, and personal destruction, and for spitting out the insult "you have become bourgeois" in your mind, thank you Celine; the footsteps of the imitators do not sting...

Let's see how we will start...

The Journey to the End of the Night, which is in its seventeenth printing at YKY, is not an easy book.

First of all, it is very difficult to carry. I admire the cover design and paper of the Kazım Taşkent Classics Series. However, I had a lot of trouble carrying the book with me. Although it has a stylish appearance, I think this paper hurt my eyes.

Reading Celine, who influenced many writers including Hakan Günday at the beginning, was also challenging in terms of content. When the carrying problem arose, I put it next to my bed and started reading it at night. I realized that I enjoyed it more. After passing the halfway point, I took it with me again without considering its weight. When I had trouble reading and concentrating, I interspersed two or three short story books according to the advice I received from here (thank you Yücel Batu Bey!).

I read articles about The Journey to the End of the Night before starting. Each article said that the book was about World War I. This was my biggest mistake. Please do not expect a story like the movie Dunkirk. GSY is not only telling about the war. It is telling about life itself. Actually, it is telling about us. Before talking more about the content, I also want to mention the translation. I was quite familiar with French, and I can't even imagine the emotions that reading this book in its original language would give. However, you are reading it with such a good translation that... You also appreciate the explanations in the footnotes. Without those explanations, it would be very difficult for the reader to understand Celine's satirical style. (Yiğit Bener won the Translation Award of the World Book Year with this translation.)

There are some novel heroes that have taken place in my mind and that I will never forget: Oblomov, İnce Memed, Galip of The Black Book are just a few of them. Now Ferdinand Bardamu has been added to this list. Giving the characters a chance to come alive in front of my eyes while reading a book allows me to put that writer in a different place. Celine succeeded in this. My 'Ferdinand' has been engraved in my mind in a way that will not be forgotten.

'Actually, a person's time is never enough, not even just to think about himself.'

The mental journey I took with Bardamu brought with it thinking deeply about every subject, making fun of it, actually making my mind dance, becoming free, experiencing a vertigo I had never experienced before, and warming my mind until it would say 'enough'. Journeys do not always bring the answers to the questions.

'In this case, you have no choice but to continue your journey in the middle of the night alone. We have lost our true traveling companions. Moreover, before the matter is over, we could not even ask them the right question, the essential question. We could not do it even when they were beside us. The lost man. Don't we always come late anyway? All these are now worthless regrets.'

I have a lot of quotes. There are many sentences that I read over and over again. I believe that when you feel ready, some books come right to your feet on their own. If you are ready for the journey; go. Do it, for example, by listening to your favorite song at dawn while everyone is asleep. There are journeys that I will never change for anything. 'Let's close this subject now.'

'From time to time, footsteps were rising from outside and their echo was coming into the room with a higher voice, whistling, and then fading away... Silence. I was looking again like this, outside, across, to see if something was still happening. Actually, what was happening and ending was only in my own heart, always asking myself the same question.'
Finally, I lay down on this question and fell asleep, in my own special night, on this table, so tired from walking and not being able to find anything that I...

Which book should I mention first? This book is completely a difficult one to read, and it is very challenging to read it. As the late Ghabraei also said, this book was a heavy work to translate and also a heavy work to read and contemplate.

And it is impossible to find any flaws in the translation. The difficulty of reading the book comes from the original text, and surely it is not possible to make a smooth translation of it (in any language) so easily. And if Mr. Ghabraei had lived longer in the world, he could have revised this good translation and made it better. Let's move on.

Let's talk about the book itself. "Journey to the End of the Night" is a strange, charming, and extremely dark book. If you are at the beginning of your reading path, I definitely recommend that you do not go towards this book for now.

The main character of this book (Ferdinand) is not a hero, but rather, according to the famous saying, against the hero. Which of course is not an important matter.

And this character in the early days of his youth confronts life with great intensity. First, he goes to war without love and escapes from a strange and fleeing war, then he goes to Africa (the abyss of failure and misfortune), goes to America (the abyss of progress and modernity), and finally returns to his own country (while the war is over). He goes through a complete and completely contradictory journey in search of "life", but only confronts the "darkness of the night".

When Ferdinand is young and goes to war and is about to take a step towards death, he escapes from death at any cost and heads towards a point of light "at the end of the night". Later, when he escapes from the war and goes to Africa, he again escapes from death but is not so much in search of a point of light, only because of greed in search of manhood.

And after Africa, when he makes a comeback, he goes to America to find that light in life; the cradle of progress and technology. But there he is again "under the pressure of life" and returns to his own country while the war is over. And during all this time, he has only confronted with the semi-darkness. Darkness and darkness.

The theme of "Journey to the End of the Night" is completely empty. Of course, let's move on from the secondary backgrounds of the book such as war, moral decline, etc., which are anyway evidence of emptiness.

And in my opinion, the theme of this book is almost the same as that of "Stranger" by Camus. Of course, with this difference that this one here and that one there...

Finally, I would say that "Journey to the End of the Night" is a unique book of its kind that when it ended, I wanted to go back and start reading it again. Although I give myself a little time and for now I am not reading anything from Celine.

P.S: These are the personal views of the servant and I do not claim their correctness and accuracy.

I just finished reading it and it truly feels as if it could be the central book of the entire 20th century. I envision Catch-22, Henry Miller, William Burroughs, Kerouac, Sartre, Beckett, Bukowski, Vonnegut, Hunter S. Thompson, Bret Easton Ellis, and about a million other people. Celine's voice is now so distinct, standing behind all of them. It's not even that I have an overwhelming affection for the book (although it is fierce, enjoyable, and contains numerous great lines). It's just that it's like this enormous puzzle piece that I had never seen before, and now suddenly everything makes a whole lot more sense.

Suddenly he fell asleep in the candlelight. After a while, I got up to look at his face. He slept like everybody else. He looked quite ordinary. There ought to be some mark by which to distinguish good people from bad.

This passage creates a vivid image of a person peacefully sleeping in the soft glow of candlelight. The narrator's curiosity leads them to observe the sleeper's face, only to find it ordinary. It makes one wonder about the nature of good and evil and whether there is a simple way to tell them apart.

The book as a whole seems to offer a unique perspective on life and the human condition, perhaps shedding light on the complex web of relationships and experiences that make up our world. It leaves the reader with much to think about and contemplate long after the final page has been turned.