3.25

Bazen zorlanarak ve küfrederek, bazen de oldukça hızlı ve akıcı bir şekilde kafamı yukarı aşağı sallayarak okuduğum bir kitap oldu. Küfrettiğimi söylediğim kısımlar Emil'in yazarken amacının ne olduğunu anlayamadığım bölümlerdi ama sanıyorum ki delice sayıklama metinlerin vergisi de kolayca kavrayamadığımız bu bölümler.
Zaman zaman çileli geçen bu okuma serüvenine rağmen Doğmuş Olmanın Sakıncası üzerine kitabını da okuyacağım. Emil belki muhteşem metinler yazamıyor olabilir ama sanırım kimse havalı saç stilini ve kitaplarına çekici isimler koyma yeteneğini inkar edemez.

"Quá trưởng thành để đón những buổi hoàng hôn mới, và đã bao hàm quá nhiều thế kỷ để có thể khát cầu thêm, tất cả những gì ta còn có thể làm là đắm chìm vào quặng xỉ của các nền văn minh. Bước tiến của thời gian giờ chỉ cám dỗ được những kẻ non nớt và cuồng tín. Chúng ta là những phế nhân vĩ đại, ngộp thở trước những giấc mơ xưa cũ, mãi mãi không thể đạt tới xã hội lý tưởng, những chuyên gia về nỗi chán chường, những kẻ đào mộ cho tương lai, bị những hoá thân của Adam cổ xưa làm cho kinh khiếp. Cây của Sự sống sẽ không bao giờ còn biết tới mùa xuân: quá nhiều củi khô; thứ sẽ được dùng để chế ra những chiếc quan tài chứa những khúc xương, những giấc mơ, và những nỗi thống khổ của chúng ta. Xác thịt của chúng ta được thừa hưởng cái mùi dễ chịu của xác thối rải rác khắp thiên niên kỷ. Vinh quang của chúng làm ta mê hoặc, và ta vắt kiệt vinh quang ấy. Trong nghĩa địa của Tâm Trí tồn tại những nguyên lý và công thức: cái Đẹp được tạo sinh, và mai táng ở nơi ấy. Và giống như nó là cái Chân, cái Thiện, Tri Thức, và những vị Chúa - họ đang thối rữa dần ở đó. (Lịch Sử: một ngữ cảnh nơi những kí tự viết hoa phân huỷ, và cùng với chúng, là những kẻ đã tưởng tượng ra và nâng niu chúng.)
... Tôi dạo bước nơi ấy. Dưới cây thập giá này Chân Lý đang say giấc ngủ cuối cùng; bên cạnh nó, Duyên; xa hơn nữa, đức Kiên Trung; và lăng tẩm của cái Tuyệt Đối trồi lên phía trên những phiến đá được che phủ bởi những cơn mê sảng cùng muôn vàn giả thuyết; và những an ủi giả dối cùng những thiên đỉnh gian trá của linh hồn yên nghỉ trong nó. Nhưng, còn ở cao hơn nữa, điều phong vương cho sự im lặng này, Sai Lầm sải cánh bay - và khiến nhà ngụy biện tang tóc dừng bước."

Kitap hakkındaki izlenimimi yazmıştım diye düşünüyordum ki yazmamış olduğumu fark ettim. Metis Yayıncılık'a yazmış olduğum-cevaplanmayan- maili *birkaç düzeltme ile paylaşıyorum.

Çürümenin Kitabı Hakkında

Bengisu CAYGUR
19.4.2017 (Çar) 20:21
Kime: [email protected];

İyi akşamlar, bir kitabın çevirisi hakkında düşüncelerimi paylaşmak için yazıyorum-yayınlarınızı beğenerek takip etmekte olduğumu da belirtmek isterim-
Yayınlamış olduğunuz, Emil Michel Cioran'ın Var Olma Eğilimi ve Doğmuş Olmanın Sakıncası Üstüne adlı kitaplarını okudum ardından-büyük bir hevesle- Çürümenin Kitabı'na başladım fakat benim için tam bir hayal kırıklığı oldu çünkü ben bu çevirinin "Türkçe" olduğunu düşünmüyorum. Yayın haklarını 1996 yılında aldığınızı ve ilk basımını 2000 yılında yaptığınızı göz önünde bulundurarak, çevirinin bu süre zarfında yapıldığını düşünerek, bu çeviriyi kabullenemiyorum. Dönemin "Türkçesi" bu değil! Çeviriyi ağdalamak neden?
Elimizdeki metnin felsefi bir metin olduğunu ele aldığımızda; okurun düşünmek, anlamak, anlamlandırmak için belli bir efor sarf etmesi, üzerine zaman harcaması gerekirken siz okurun üzerine metni -anlayabilmek adına- Türkçeleştirmeyi de yüklemişsiniz. Tutumunuz bu olsa, "Biz ağdalı bir dil kullanmayı tercih ediyoruz." deseniz anlayacağım. Fakat olmadığını biliyorum yoksa yukarıda belirttiğim, yine Emil Michel Cioran'a ait olan, çevirilerini Kenan Sarıalioğlu'nun yapmış olduğu kitapların; gayet "Türkçe" ve tamamen anlaşılır olan bu çevirilerini kabul etmezdiniz-kaldı ki kitaplığıma baktığım zaman en çok tercih ettiğim yayınevi olduğunuzu görüyorum- diye düşünüyorum. Okumak adına çabalamama rağmen sadece 12. sayfaya kadar direnebildim ve daha sonra okumak üzere kitaplığıma geri kaldırmak zorumda kaldım.
Meleke, vecd, mütereddit, selâmet, tahayyül, veçhe, fiiliyat, münhal, ihsas ve daha birçoğu neden? Birkaçı için sözlüğe bakmak zorunda kalmış olmam neden? Bu tutum neden? Yabancılaşmış olmam neden?

İyi çalışmalar.

Cioran was a really amazing human being. Cioran knew what`s going on and while reading this book not only that you find yourself in the same posture but also you can find out the answers at his own questions; reading him was just like getting to know my own thoughts at night. When getting to the part in which he wrote that he wanted to believe, he was just so prepared to trust someone or something (almost at the end of the book) I was already conscious of 'why he couldn`t make it until the end'. It is just amazing how at the last pages you can just see the streams and his pain within them. That`s why all the book he related why we are just... farts in the Universe so as to be able at the end of it to speak his heart out properly. That part made me cry. I had read this book at the library, well... most of it and people just stared at me while I couldn`t kept laughing at the parts in which I couldn`t help myself but think: 'Nailed it!'. The reason for which I cried though was that he reminded me of what some people that I cared of said to me. They were are like: 'What shall we live for? This is just a piece of s**t, it gave nothing to me and I know that only after death may I find another place much better than this where I won`t feel any of the aches of being alive.' At that moment I thought that they were cowards .really, because when you care about someone if he/she wants to hurt himself/herself you can`t help yourself but defense them as they were you. But now coming to think of it through and experiencing more of what life is I start to notice that seeing life as an opportunity is f***ing hard. First of all you can never find the harmony. You just want something and then something else and then never have enough of that other thing, after after that you just think that it could have been better without a heart beating inside your chest and without all these s****y feelings and so on. You really have to be mad to love it. You have to be powerful and to love yourself, hate giving up, thinking that you can have memorable moments like you already had and always remember that if you can do that, that doesn`t mean everyone can. I won`t judge the ones that decide to kill themselves I had some moments when I wanted to do the same, but among the trouble that life offers you there is something devastatingly beautiful about it. To survive life you have to turn yourself into a specimen, to observe yourself. To survive life you have to get over the bad stuff, because who wants to get over the good stuff?! For that you just have to laugh right in its face. If nothing here matters because everything here has an end then why shouldn`t we act like it? It`s possible to enjoy life, that`s why sometimes we forget we are in such a mess and fail to bring to mind the question why we are here, we`re just busy having fun. That`s due to the fact that we remember such things when we are not in ourselves but trying to release our souls from our bodies. It made me laugh for the fact that he is just so... strangely pure. He says what most of us know in what it seems to me like a scheme sometimes. Despite the fact that this is kind of a contradiction I think that if we read and try to make an analogy it again sounds like a joke. It is funny how a joke about people in general can make you laugh. Just like:'Did I actually think that?'. Before finishing this review, which is actually just a small piece of my own opinion (like the book itself) I want to say that while washing the strawberries some days ago I felt like all of our questions regarding why we are here and how, does not make sense... none of them pretty much. Without thinking scientifically and more like a kid, do this thing: imagine a void, just... nothing... imagine nothing, right? and then imagine something out of nothing because of that something which actually came from...? Yeah. Well... nothing makes much sense, but we still have feelings, we have ourselves, I don`t know why but we are here and Cioran would have just enjoyed everything that`s happening right now if he hadn`t been a nothing right now. We have this book and I THANK YOU CIORAN for being so... flawlessly straightforward in your own vulgarity of making us read what we already tried to get away from. But... we have to live somehow Cioran and what I want to do after reading this book is make it just the opposite of what you said. No judgement, I can`t agree with all that you had written, I do agree with most but I can`t practice it. To follow your 'description' I am more like a mixed type: yeah I am a subhuman I am a superior one, I deserve to rotten, but also to grow and it is deliciously funny. Short love thoughts: you are a nullity in your eyes and... probably this is what everything that had happened to you made you feel like, but you will be in my mind... the mind of a nullity, if of course we ignore the fact that I still don`t consider myself one. For me nullity is an enlarged perspective on life that we stir from the dead when we want to give an argument for what`s happening here, but I am my own argument and I want to be here... when I`ll get there to you, I won`t come back here, but I won`t be able to regret it because I will be... nothing. So just, let`s be please! All of us. Amen!
P.S: I forgot to write why I can`t practice it: because I feast on the happy moments and I want a lot of them, I`m sorry to tell you but I choose to be thrilled and have my heart skipping a beat rather than 'be not'. It may seem to you like something a 'wise human being' would never do, but what`s like to be wise when you are... nowhere Cioran? Can you see the amusing circle that`s around us? :)) Oh, the irony I feast on!

Read again: July 19 - September 9



6. The abundance of solutions to the aspects of existence is equaled only by their futility.



10. By dint of accumulating non-mysteries and monopolizing non-meanings, life inspires more dread than death: it is life which is the Great Unknown.



38. In this slaughterhouse, to fold one's arms or to draw one's sword are equally vain gestures.



44. Man starts over again every day, in spite of everything he knows, against everything he knows.



54. Before an absolute tribunal, only the angels would be acquitted.



72. Men mingle in a uniform fare as futile as, for the indifferent eye, as the stars - or the crosses of a military cemetary.



77. In this world, where sufferings are merged and blurred, only the Formula prevails.



84. A dust infatuated with ghosts - such is man; his absolute image, ideally lifelike, would be incarnated in a Don Quixote seen by Aeschylus.



102. "I never made anyone suffer!" - an exclamation alien to a creature of flesh and blood.



119. We are the great invalids, overwhelmed by old dreams, forever incapable of utopia, technicians of lassitude, gravediggers of the future, horrified by the avatars of the Old Adam.



172. Look at your body in the mirror; you will realize that you are mortal; run your fingers over your ribs as though across a guitar, and you will see how close you are to the grave.

The hermeneutics of the void via prose poetry. Declared anathema: faith, love, action, dogma, suicide, living, hope. Deemed exemplary: laughter, cynicism, poetry, inertia, acceptance of death and the futility of existence, doubt. Cioran is a diagnostician of decay, the type to carouse with madmen, crooks, layabouts, and roués—to hold that Jesus ruined the tragedy of his crucifixion by appending it with his resurrection, thus imbuing his followers with the dream of eternal life, an abhorrent and abominable demand upon infinity that is perhaps the most appalling of the countless sins committed by the lunatic ape man.

This is gorgeous gall, beautiful bile, ethereal effluence, translated with a sublime flair. Designed, of course, for provoking the Three D's: Dismay, Despair, and Denouncement; but such caustic, gnostic poetophilosophy is so rife with profound truth immanent within the blasphemy that even the most repulsed reader can mine it for nuggets of wisdom (being careful to rinse off the acid). Even at his darkest and most mordant, Cioran's dancing charcoal humor shimmers throughout the grim stream of nihilistic vituperation, such that the harsh friction of the smegma of existence called life being vigorously scrubbed with bristles of anguish and apostasy is periodically overlain by the unexpected, leavening sound of whistling. Amazing.

Hide all firearms, sharp objects, and anything that could be twisted into a rope prior to delving into this one! To say it's a "downer" is an understatement of epic proportions but it's a fascinating read all the same. 80% of the time I had no real clue what Cioran was saying so I approached it as if it were Joyce's Finnegan's Wake -- hang on, let the words roll over you, and pray that something sticks along the way.

Did I finish the book? Nope, but I'm not sure anyone could at one go without upping their anti-depressant meds quite a bit. If you enjoy the conflicted experience of feeling: "This guy's on to something" while at the same time thinking: "WTF?!?" than pick up a copy and have at it.

This copy is going back to the Illinois State Library from whence it came via inter-library loan. Interesting side note: The book contained a mailing label to the Illinois Secretary of State; sort of gives one pause to think this is what government officials are reading, doesn't it?!?!

“Nasıl bir uçurum kusursuzluğuna ulaşmışım ki düşecek yerim bile kalmamış.”
s.126

Abordar cualquier texto de Cioran, no es tarea fácil. "Breviario de Podredumbre" no puede catalogarse como un libro de filosofía, pues carece de cualquier tipo de hipótesis o construcción lógica, salvo el permanente asco por los ídolos, la religión y la angustiosa tortura que supone la existencia. No es un ensayo y tampoco hay una narrativa lineal más allá de aforismos sueltos y reflexiones que danzan alrededor de una idea en estado de descomposición. Ningún género se ajusta convincentemente... escritor ahistórico sin escuela a la cual vincularlo salvo la del pesimismo y la inacción, Cioran y su "Breviario de Podredumbre" resulta demasiado terrorífico, cínico y escéptico para ser catalogado como una serie de aforismos existencialistas. Con un pie en el nihilismo y otro en la recalcitrante misantropía; el insomnio, la iconoclasia, el vacío, el asco existencial, el horror del tiempo y la eternidad, la belleza de la nada, la pereza y la desesperanza, serán los compañeros en la decadencia y la podredumbre humana.

Paria entre sus congéneres, cualquier lectura de Ciorán no es para todo el mundo, ni para todo momento de la vida. Siendo el suicidio, el único consuelo para él, no por ejecutarlo, sino por representar la única libertad con la que cuenta el ser humano para llevarlo a cabo; claramente las ideas consignadas en este libro (de una forma caóticamente hermosa) no serán de buen recibo y agrado para todo lector, especialmente el que busque una lectura esperanzadora, fácil y rápida. Por el contrario, para quienes hemos rumiado y visto el abismo de la existencia dibujado por la tinta de Schopenhauer, Sartre, Cèline, Camus o Nietzsche; encontraremos en Cioran la mirada de regreso del abismo, muy dentro de nosotros.

O meditație lucidă și cinică asupra vieții, o disecție necruțătoare a condiției umane, structurată în aforisme și eseuri scurte, axate pe absurdul existenței, fragilitatea ființei și inevitabila descompune. Scriitura poetică îmbină frumusețea limbajului cu asprimea conținutului, rezultând un text greu de citit pe alocuri, dar imposibil de ignorat.

Cioran nu oferă soluții, nici consolare, ci explorează destrămarea ființei și a realităților care dau sens vieții. Paginile sunt pline de reflecții amare asupra iluziilor care ne țin captivi, de la speranță și iubire la religie, toate văzute ca fiind doar paliative temporare împotriva nimicului din care am venit și spre care ne îndreptăm.

Una dintre temele majore abordate este relația ambivalentă a autorului cu Dumnezeu. Deși a fost un ateu declarat, Cioran pare obsedat de ideea divinității, oscilând între respingere și o dorință chinuitoare de înțelegere. În multe momente pare să-L sfideze pe Dumnezeu nu din convingere, ci ca o încercare de a umple tăcerea infinitului cu propriul tumult interior. Nu sunt de acord cu ateismul său absolut, dar îmi pare că tocmai din această negare izbucnește și dorința de a explora, uneori brutal, alteori cu sensibilitate, sensul vieții și al credinței.

Volumul e o capodoperă nihilistă, dar trebuie abordată cu o minte deschisă, pregătită să exploreze disperarea și absurditatea vieții fără filtre. Cioran este un scriitor al crizei existențiale perpetue, iar această sinceritate brutală este ceea ce îl face atât de unic, deși uneori, insuportabil și greu de citit.

Mutlu musunuz?!

"Hakiki katiller, dinî veya siyasî düzeyde bir ortodoksluk kuranlardır; mümin ile mezhep sapkını arasında ayrım yapanlardır."