أي رأس يحمل ذلك الباتريك على كتفيه
أعني ..‏
حقا كيف استطاع انتاج أعجب كائن في تاريخ الأدب الإنساني؟
كيف رأه في عقله قبل ان يخطه على الورق..؟
كيف نشأ هذا الغرينوي في تلابيب أفكاره...؟
هل اشتمه ذات ليلة يا ترى
فقرر تحويل عطره الفريد إلى سطور ادبية..؟؟
لا يمكن!!
فغرينوي لا رائحة له

وهذه هي الطامة الكبرى...‏

غرينوي ولد بصفات غير بشرية
يحمل في داخله الأسطورة القديمة ليتيم فقير دميم
كرهه الجميع ونفروا منه من اللحظة الأولى
حتى أمه-في مشهد من أشنع ما يكون
تتخلص منه فور ولادته وهي جالسة على مشنتها العطنة في سوق ‏السمك

غرينوي مكروه
غرينوي مسكين
غرينوي بلا أهل
‏..‏
مهلا..‏
هل تظن القصة مكتوبة في القرن الثامن أو التاسع عشر
عن فتى مسكين يتعرض لقسوة الحياة والظروف
هل تظنه أوليفر تويست؟؟

لا تدع كلماتي تخدعك‏

غرينوي شرير
غرينوي غير طبيعي
غرينوي مخيف

تخيل كائن ما ينبض أمامك ويتنفس دون أي رائحة تصعد منه
عندما تقترب من كائن كهذا وتتأكد من خلوه من اية رائحة كانت
يقشعر بدنك
تخاف الاقتراب منه
فإن عرفت أننا في زمن بعيد بعيد
حيث تسيطر أفكار اللعنات والشياطين على عقول مغرقة في الجهل والفقر
تعرف لما كان غرينوي يبعث النفور في الآخرين جميعا‏
كل هذا في جوٍ لا ينسى زوسكند أن يخبرك عن مدى نتانته
فرائحة باريس في الشوارع الفقيرة بالذات لا تطاق

عندما يكبر غرينوي ويتعلم صنعة استخلاص العطور
لا يكفه الورود ‏
فأنفه الخارق الذي يعرف ما لا يعرف إنس ولا جان
يحاول أن يستخلص عطر كل شيء
وأنا أعني كل شيء
‏....‏

عندما يبدأ غرينوي في القتل
عندما يبدأ في سحق الفتيات الجميلات
عندما يبدأ في استخراج شهقات الرعب من أعمق أعماقك
أنت لا تكرهه

حسنا
أنا لم أكرهه
بل إنني حتى كنت في بعض الأحيان أخشى أن ينكشف أمره

غرينوي استطاع سلخنا من مشاعرنا الآدمية
لنلهث وراء قداسة عطره السري

ولكن ابدا لم نتخيل أنه به يستطيع امتلاك العالم وإحناء هامة الجميع
أبدا لم نتخيل أن لمؤلف هذه القدرة الفذة على استخراج خيالات وصور لم ‏تجرؤ أهم قصص الفانتازيا على تصورها

وأبدا أبدا أبدا لم نتخيل هذه النهاية ‏
وهي العجب ذاته

ابتلاع الآخرين لغرينوي ‏
شعوره بالحب للمرة الأولى
أنه حقا مرغوب من الآخرين
مرغوب لدرجة... الالتهام..‏

الرواية لم أقرأها في البداية
سبقها الفيلم المذهل إخراجا وتصويرا وآداءا
وهو الفيلم الوحيد الذي يمكنني حقا ان أقول أنه كان على نفس مستوى ‏العمل الأدبي المقتبس عنه
فكاميرا المخرج وآداء البطل كانتا على نفس درجة براعة زوسكيند في ‏السرد والحكي


الرواية تجربة شديدة التميز
وحالة عجيبة من الفانتازيا والرعب
وكل هذا مضفور في أسلوب بارع للكاتب
استطاع به أن يحكي الكثير عن النفس البشرية
لكائن أبعد ما يكون عن البشرية بمعناها المعروف

غرينوي
أنا لازلت أحبك
أتمنى أن تكون وجدت السكينة متناثرا بين شوارع باريس
ذرات أنف خارق وبقايا عزلة لا ذنب لك فيها

I don't even know what to say about this book...it was...strange but also incredibly thought provoking! I feel weird saying I enjoyed it, but I did!

There are some books which can be called unique. They may be good, bad or indifferent: but their authors strike out from the trodden paths of narrative themes and structure to explore totally new vistas, so that the product becomes unique. Perfume by Patrick Suskind is such a book.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille is "an abominable and gifted personage, in an era which was not lacking in abominable and gifted personages". Born a bastard in the stinking heart of the city of Paris in the eighteenth century under a gutting table, the first cry he utters sends his mother to the scaffold for abandoning an infant. Grenouille grows up by sucking many wet nurses dry, survives the horrendous childhood of an orphan in an age without mercy, and grows up to become a successful perfumer. For this is his unique gift: the child who does not emit any smell himself is blessed with extraordinary olfactory capabilities, which allows him to recognise, separate and catalogue in his mind all the different odours he comes into contact with.

But simple identification is not enough for Jean. He is driven by the insatiable urge to possess any smell he likes for himself; he will move heaven and earth to extract it from its origin, make a perfume out of it and keep it with him. He is not bothered that the object which originates the smell will be destroyed in the process of extraction: he is a "smell-vampire". And like a vampire, it is the smell of virgins which drives him wild. Ultimately, Grenouille's gift and single-minded obsession proves to be the cause of both his uplift and undoing...

Suskind has written a gripping novel which will hook and pull the reader in from the first sentence onwards. However, this is not a simple horror story or thriller: it has got layers of meaning hidden beneath one another which will come out on careful reading.

Jean Baptiste Grenouille is a masterly creation. His insatiable thirst for smells makes him a truly terrifying "collector": one who cannot enjoy his passion the normal way, but must possess the object of his desire (I was reminded of Frederick Clegg in John Fowles' "The Collector") completely. The fact that he lacks a characteristic odour himself enhances his vampiric nature. Also, all the people who profit from him come to a grisly end, like the poor misguided souls who make a pact with the devil.

Joseph Campbell has made the slogan "Follow your bliss" very popular - but how to know whether your bliss is good or bad? I have always wondered about the concept of "negative bliss". Both Gandhi and Hitler could have been said to be following their bliss in different ways. While reading this novel, I was struck by the realisation that the difference is in one's attitude. If one is doing it because one cannot be doing anything else - following one's karma, if you want to put it that way - then it is bliss. But if one is driven by an insatiable need which feeds on itself, one ends up being a vampire. Ultimately, it consumes oneself.

Highly recommended.

What a fascinating novel, a tale revolving around the sense of smell. Patrick Süskind is to be commended.

As many outstanding musicians are born with what is termed "perfect pitch," so Patrick Süskind's main character, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, is born with a unique and extraordinary sense of smell.

Since there are so many outstanding reviews already posted here, in the spirit of originality, I'll share a taste (or perhaps I should say a smell?) of what it means for smell to play such a prominent, overwhelming place in someone's life. Here's a micro-fiction from the master of the micro, Brooklyn born and bred Peter Cherches, about -

THE MAN WHO SMELLED FUNNY
There once was a man who smelled funny. He didn't smell bad, he smelled funny. Whenever he walked into a room, people would begin to laugh uncontrollably. The man didn't like the effect he had on people. He couldn't go anywhere without making people laugh. He could never have a serious conversation with anybody, because they were always laughing so hard.

The man tried everything. He tried bathing three or four times a day, but he couldn't get rid of the smell. He wore expensive cologne, but that only made him smell like a combination of expensive cologne and the funny smell.

Life was difficult for the man. Trouble followed him everywhere he went, because of his funny smell. One day the man went to the public library and the entire library broke into uproarious laughter. The librarian tried to make the people stop laughing, but even while she was putting her fingers to her lips and saying, "Shhh," she was cackling like a hyena. Finally the guard came up to the man.

"Excuse me - ha ha - Sir," the guard said, "but I'm afraid - he he he - I'm going to have to - ha ha - ask you to - ho ho ho - leave."

The man was so embarrassed he turned beet-red and rushed out of the library.

The man had trouble keeping a job too. He was a good worker, and people liked him, but his funny smell was so disruptive that little work ever got done. Whenever his bosses fired him thy laughed the whole time. "I'm so sorry - ha ha ha - to have to do this," thy would say. "I know this will be very hard on your family - guffaw guffaw guffaw."

The man who smelled funny was very sad. It wasn't his fault he smelled funny, but he couldn't keep a job because of it.

Then, one day, the man came up with a brilliant idea: he would become a stand-up comic.

The man who smelled funny got himself booked at a local comedy club. He was nervous on opening night, but the second he got on stage the entire audience began laughing wildly. He told the worst jokes imaginable: corny old jokes and pointless shaggy dog stories. And he had the audience rolling in the aisles. He was a hit.

The local newspapers gave him a rave review. "We don't know how he does it," the review said, "but he breathes new life into the oldest jokes in the business."

The man took his act on the road. He played all the best comedy clubs in the country and earned lots of money. He was living the good life.

Now the man who smelled funny was hardly ever sad. Never again would he lose a job because he made people laugh.

And he decided that he would never agree to perform his comedy act on television.

Not until they come out with Smell-O-Vision, that is.

-------

Note: The Man Who Smelled Funny is part of the Peter Cherches book: Whistler's Mother's Son

(You can see my video review here: https://youtu.be/vnorkpB_Lnk )

Life is cheap in Patrick Süskind's Perfume. From the very first page, newborn babies are dumped among heaps of rotten fish while the mother who birthed them is unrepentant as she faces execution in front of an angry mob.

And why shouldn't she be?

All she's ever known is a squalid, miserable world that would sooner walk over her than lend a helping hand. However, it would be wrong to say that the meanness Süskind draws in his characters is rooted in poverty.

Regardless of social class, nearly everybody we meet in Perfume is only interested in their own success: whether their vice be money, sex, social status or power, they pursue their petty goals under the same misguided belief that it is they who are the smart ones, that they are the protagonists of a tale that by mere fact of existence deserves a happy end. How wrong they are. Rarely does Süskind let a member of his despicable cast depart the novel without facing an absurd, ironic or just downright wretched death. It's almost sentimental in how much attention is paid to their Willy Wonka styled exits and, taken together, the larger picture of a meaningless universe as a whole. Through it all though, there is one man who seems to be on the trail of something divine.

Much has been said of the aromatic prose that Süskind leverages to portray our hero's sense of smell: Scents are everything to Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. As his singular passion, their descriptions are given all the care and flourish required to convince you that he's in touch with something beautiful and true. It all amounts to shit of course, and Jean-Baptiste's sacred hunt turns out to be just as foolish as anybody else's as they tumble toward their mutual dooms.

In Perfume, no pillar of society is left undemolished. Religion, government, science, and even brotherly love are all perverted by story's end. It would be a tough read that a lot of people would have a hard time getting through if only for how damn well Süskind can describe the smell of a rotting corpse, an easterly wind, or the wisp of a young red-headed woman's hair.

(Don't forget to check out my video review: https://youtu.be/vnorkpB_Lnk )