RTC

Kitabı'n çok akıcı bir dili var, betimlemeler, duygusal ve psikolojik tahliller çok iyiydi..
Keşke Hanna nın ne düşündüğünü kendi ağzından öğrenebilseydim..
Okunası..

Baidausi visokių po/per/prieš Holokausto istorijų, bet turbūt nereikia aiškint, kad šioje viskas kitaip. Ir tikrai - labai gražu. Man gal čiut per daug melancholiška, lėta ir per daug širdies pavirpinimų, bet šiaip labai literatūriškai pakilus, klampus, sodrus reikalas. Net neguli ant vienos lentynos su visu Holokaustiniu popsu, patikėkit. Tai jei norisi tos temos, bet be tariamai istorinių pritempinėjimų, o dar ir atskleidžiant problemos atspalvius, plius mestelėjant meilės istoriją - tai imkit ir skaitykit. O po to filmą su Kate Winslet pasižiūrėkit, nes man gal per dešimt metų jis iš atminties visai nedingęs.

Goash! What a plot! What delivery! This is the perfect case for show don't tell done in just the way that even when we get told something, we see it.

A lot of painfully salient topics raised in here. Gross ones, of course. Horrible ones. Stanley Milgram would've been so effing proud...

Review to follow.

Q:
Maybe I did write our story to be free of it, even if I never can be. (c)
Q:
Hanna became absorbed in the unfolding of the book. But it was different this time; she withheld her own opinions; she didn't make Natasha, Andrei, and Pierre part of her world, as she had Luise and Emilia, but entered their world the way one sets out on a long and dazzling journey, or enters a castle which one is allowed to visit, even stay in until one feels at home, but without ever really shedding one's inhibitions. All the things I had read to her before were already familiar to me. War and Peace was new for me, too. We took the long journey together. (c)
Q:
The fact that I came later than the others or left earlier, depending on Hanna' s schedule, didn't hurt my reputation, but made me interesting. I knew that. I also knew that I wasn't missing anything, and yet I often had the feeling that absolutely everything could be happening while I wasn't there. There was a long stretch when I did not dare ask myself whether I would rather be at the swimming pool or with Hanna. (с)
Q:
Then I began to betray her. (c)
Q:
I know that disavowal is an unusual form of betrayal. From the outside it is impossible to tell if you are disowning someone or simply exercising discretion, being considerate, avoiding embarrassments and sources of irritation. But you, who are doing the disowning, you know what you're doing. And disavowal pulls the underpinnings away from a relationship just as surely as other more flamboyant types of betrayal. (c)
Q:
At first I told myself that I wasn't yet close enough to my friends to tell them about Hanna. Then I didn't find the right opportunity, the right moment, the right words. And finally it was too late to tell them about Hanna, to present her along with all my other youthful secrets. I told myself that talking about her so belatedly would misrepresent things, make it seem as if I had kept silent about Hanna for so long because our relationship wasn't right and I felt guilty about it. But no matter what I pretended to myself, I knew that I was betraying Hanna when I acted as if I was letting my
friends in on everything important in my life but said nothing about Hanna. (c)
Q:
"There's another reason I arrive later or leave earlier."
"Do you not want to talk about it, or is it that you want to but you don't know how?" (c)
Q:
We did not have a world that we shared; she gave me the space in her life that she wanted me to have. I had to be content with that. Wanting more, even wanting to know more, was presumption on my part. (c)
Q:
But I knew it was her. She stood and looked — and it was too late. (c)
Q:
Everything was easy; nothing weighed heavily. Perhaps that is why my bundle of memories is so small. Or do I keep it small? I also wonder if my memory of happiness is even true. If I think about it more, plenty of embarrassing and painful situations come to mind, and I know that even if I had said goodbye to my memory of Hanna, (c)
Q:
I had not overcome it. Never to let myself be humiliated or humiliate myself after Hanna, never to take guilt upon myself or feel guilty, never again to love anyone whom it would hurt to lose — I didn't formulate any of this as I thought back then, but I know that's how I felt. I adopted a posture of arrogant superiority. I behaved as if nothing could touch or shake or confuse me. I got involved in nothing, and I remember a teacher who saw through this and spoke to me about it; I was arrogantly dismissive. ...
I also remember that the smallest gesture of affection would bring a lump to my throat, whether it was directed at me or at someone else. Sometimes all it took was a scene in a movie. This juxtaposition of callousness and extreme sensitivity seemed suspicious even to me. (c)
Q:
The more horrible the events about which we read and heard, the more certain we became of our responsibility to enlighten and accuse. Even when the facts took our breath away, we held them up
triumphantly. Look at this! (c)
Q:
She had no sense of context, of the rules of the game, of the formulas by which her statements and those of the others were toted up into guilt and innocence, conviction and acquittal. To compensate for her defective grasp of the situation, her lawyer would have had to have more experience and self-confidence, or simply to have been better. (c)
Q:
She was not pursuing her own interests, but fighting for her own
truth, her own justice. Because she always had to dissimulate somewhat, and could never be
completely candid, it was a pitiful truth and a pitiful justice, but it was hers, and the struggle
for it was her struggle.
She must have been completely exhausted. Her struggle was not limited to the trial. She was
struggling, as she always had struggled, not to show what she could do but to hide what she
couldn't do. A life made up of advances that were actually frantic retreats and victories that
were concealed defeats. (c)
Q:
I knew about the helplessness in everyday activities, finding one's way or finding an address or choosing a meal in a restaurant, about how illiterates anxiously stick to prescribed patterns and familiar routines, about how much energy it takes to conceal one's inability to read and write, energy lost to actual living. Illiteracy is dependence. By finding the courage to learn to read and
write, Hanna had advanced from dependence to independence, a step towards liberation. (c)
Q:
I was proud of her. At the same time, I was sorry for her, sorry for her delayed and failed life, sorry for the delays and failures of life in general. I thought that if the right time gets missed, if one has refused or been refused something for too long, it's too late, even if it is finally tackled with energy and received with joy. Or is there no such thing as "too late"? Is there only "late," and is "late" always better than "never"? I don't know. (c)
Q:
I still said nothing. I could not have spoken; all I could have done was to stammer and weep. (c)
Q:
She didn't seem unhappy or dissatisfied. In fact it was as though the retreat to the convent was no longer enough, as though life in the convent was still too sociable and talkative, and she had to retreat even further, into a lonely cell safe from all eyes, where looks, clothing, and smell meant nothing. No, it would be wrong to say that she had given up. She redefined her place in a way that was right for her, but no longer impressed the other women. ...
Can the world become so unbearable to someone after years of loneliness? Is it better to kill yourself than to return to the world from the convent, from the hermitage? (c)
Q:
if something hurts me, the hurts I suffered back then come back to me, and when I feel guilty, the feelings of guilt return; if I yearn for something today, or feel homesick, I feel the yearnings and
homesickness from back then. (c)
Q:
The tectonic layers of our lives rest so tightly one on top of the other that we always come up against earlier events in later ones, not as matter that has been fully formed and pushed aside, but absolutely present and alive. (c)
Q:
Whatever I had done or not done, whatever she had done or not to me — it was the path my life had taken. (c)

... когато е пропуснат правилният момент, когато някой твърде дълго е отказвал нещо, когато някому твърде дълго е било отказвано нещо, то идва твърде късно, дори в крайна сметка да е усвоено с усилие и прието с радост. Или може би "твърде късно" не съществува, има само "късно", а "късно" при всички положения, е по-добре от "никога".

"Четецът" от Бернхард Шлинг, беше една от онези книги, които дълго отлагах във времето. Понякога всеки читател си има усещане кога трябва или не трябва да посегне към даден роман. Дали е интуиция не знам, но съм убедена, че историята, която трябва да те намери, винаги стига до теб.

За тази история ми е трудно да говоря и не знам как да ви опиша какво ме накара да почувствам. Беше моята книга. Авторът успя да каже всичко: кратко, красиво, рационално, логично, подредено, неемоционално и в същото време, така че да ти пръсне сърцето от емоция. Многократно затварях книгата по средата на някое изречение в опит да се самосъхраня.

Хана е на 34, Михаел на 15, когато се срещат и започват любовна афера. Михаел се влюбва в Хана, Хана обича той да й чете. Но любовта не стига и двамата се разминават във времето. Срещат се години по-късно, когато Михаел е студент по право и попада в съдебната зала на дело, което се води срещу Хана. Дело срещу жената, заемала длъжността надзирател в Аушвиц.

През целият роман присъстваме в спомените на нашия главен герой. Книгата е ретроспективна и е разписана като поток на мисълта. Истинска вихрушка от емоции, от морални и етични казуси, от въпроси кое е допустимо и кое не е. Военното време прави ли те лош човек или войната е само оправдание. Маска, зад която се крием и вършим злини.

Първа среща с прозата на Шлинк.

Добър роман, на важна тема и умело поднесен.

Все пак, харесвам разказите му повече - там му е силата, според мен.

DNF at 50%
Unbearable romanticizing of sexual harassment towards a young and naive Schoolboy by a much older woman. Throughout the first part of the story (the only part I read) Schlink doesn’t develop some kind of real reflection, but instead overprays how ‚manly‘ the clearly broken relationship has made his main character....utterly toxic!
Mostly the story is told through tedious, useless Poem-language that miserably tries to amplify a unique form of narrative and fails completely. If I wanted to read cheap Calendar Euphemisms, I could have bought a Julia Engelmann book. (Shots Fired)
Furthermore Schlinks work is Overrepresented by a Visual Layer, describing every bit of a scene and so does not leave real marks on the readersoul. There’s no point of reflection, nor an organic characterview which could have been established - frustration in a bottle. Both protagonists failed to appear as real human being, as they are constantly used to deliver the authors forced emotional field and always seem like blank mannequins, without any structure.
By hiding literary cliffs behind retrospective amnesia the novel gambles away its last chance for enfolding an immersive story shockingly fast.

There seem to be more aspects in the novel which may result in a better review, but I personally wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

خیلی خوب بود. خیلی دوستش داشتم و حتما دوباره می خونمش و وقتی خوندم مفصل درباره اش مینویسم.

schlink, nazi almanyası'nın gölgesinde yaşanan suçluluk duygularını ve kişisel sorumluluğu ustalıkla işlerken, aynı zamanda insanın içsel çatışmalarını ve arayışlarını da mercek altına almış romanda. romanın sonunda yaşanan duygusal anlar ve karakterlerin içsel çatışmaları beni derinden etkiledi, bu yüzden schlink'in dokunaklı anlatımını çok sevdim.

n  
لماذا كل ما كان لطيفاُ بالنسبة لنا يتبعثر فجأة عند استعادة الماضي، ألأنه توارى خلف حقائق قاتمة؟
n

- "القارئ" لبرنارد شلينك، رواية مبنية على ردّات الفعل، تحكي عن مرحلة خطرة وحساسة جداً، تلك التي تلت انهيار الرايخ الثالث وسقوط النازية، نظرة الجيل الثاني للجيل السابق، أسئلته الكثيرة عن المعتقلات والهولوكوست والتعذيب، اسئلة عن دورهم في هذه المعمعة، عن سبب رضاهم بالقيام بالتعذيب او المشاركة فيه او غضّ الطرف عنه كأنه غير موجود. رواية نقدية بإمتياز يتخللها العديد من الإستطرادات الفلسفية والفكرية بأسلوبٍ سلس ولغةٍ واضحة ومفهومة.

n  
حقيقة ما يقوله الواحد تكمن فيما يفعله
n

- ابتدأت الرواية بقسمها الأول بحادثة بسيطة بين ثلاثينية ومراهق، تطورت الأحداث الى علاقة جنسية بينهما مبنية على الرغبة المتبادلة وأصبحت لاحقاً تعلّقاً وحباً حسب صيرورة الأحداث اللاحقة وتأثيرها في الشخصيات، تميّز هذا القسم بوصف التعلّق والإنكسارات والأحوال النفسية للراوي. القسم الثاني اتى بعد سنوات اختفاء المرأة في محاكمة لمجموعة تابعة للأمن النازي حيث كانت المرأة في قفص الإتهام والراوي في "سيمينار" قانوني (او حقوقي) يتابع الجلسات، هذا القسم كان فيه الكثير من الأسئلة حول الذات والخيانة والقانون، والنقد للشخصية الألمانية الجامدة، الذنب، العار، وبعض الأفكار الفلسفية عن الخير والشر والخيارات الممكنة. القسم الثالث وهو فترة سجن المرأة اتى ليتمم ما سبق ويعطيه معنىً، النهاية كانت منطقية جداً فقد أدّت المرأة كفارتها (رغم انها لم تكن الملامة لكن عنادها دعاها لتحمّل كل اللوم) وذهبت الى المكان الأفضل بإرادتها.

n  
ان عمل التاريخ يعني بناء جسور بين الماضي والحاضر، وملاحظة كلتا الضفتين للنهر، والمشاركة بفاعلية في كلا الجانبين
n

- الرواية عذبة بطريقة غريبة، سلسة جداً رغم كمية الأفكار التي تحتويها، وتمسك بتلابيب القارئ الى ان ينهيها، لكن الترجمة افتقدت للتحرير فتكاثرت الأخطاء الإملائية الساذجة وبعض الأخطاء اللغوية مما نغّص القراءة بعض الشيئ.

n  
ان طبقات حياتنا مشيّدة بإحكامٍ واحدةٍ فوق الأخرى لدرجة اننا نصطدم دائماً بالأحداث السابقة في الأيام اللاحقة، ليست كمسألة تشكلت وذهبت لحالها، ولك كمسألة راهنة وحيّة
n

- أودّ الإشارة ختاماً الى خيطٍ حريري استمر في الرواية بين هانا ومايكل، بدأ حينما زجرته وأنبّته لينتبه لمدرسته واستعملت سلطتها المكتسبة لتحثه على النجاح ونجح.. وانتهى مع تعلمها للكتابة والقراءة مع نهاية الرواية بعد تشجيعه لها من خلال التسجيلات الصوتية.

15ª releitura de 2021 (BBC Listeners)
********

“There's no need to talk about it, because the truth of what one says lies in what one does.”

“It wasn't that I forgot Hanna. But at a certain point the memory of her stopped accompanying me wherever I went. She stayed behind, the way a city stays behind as a train pulls out of the station. It's there, somewhere behind you, and you could go back and make sure of it. But why should you?”

“What a sad story, I thought for so long. Not that I now think it was happy. But I think it is true, and thus the question of whether it is sad or happy has no meaning whatever.”

“...I had to point at Hanna. But the finger I pointed at her turned back to me. I had loved her. I tried to tell myself that I had known nothing of what she had done when I chose her. I tried to talk myself into the state of innocence in which children love their parents. But love of our parents is the only love for which we are not responsible. ...And perhaps we are responsible even for the love we feel for our parents.”

“Or is there no such thing as 'too late'? Is there only 'late' and is 'late' always better than 'never'? I don't know.”

القارئ ...الرواية التي ترجمت إلي ٣٧ لغة و تعتبر أول رواية ألمانية تصل إلي قائمة الكتب الأكثر مبيعاً في صحيفة النيويورك تايمز..

الرواية في جزئها الأول بتحكي عن مايكل المراهق اللي عنده ١٥ سنة و أقام علاقة جنسية مع هانا السيدة التي تبلغ من العمر ٣٦ عاماً ..مع تقدمه في العمر وتطور الأحداث بنشوف إزاي أثرت هذه العلاقة علي حياته وعلي مشاعره تجاه الآخرين...

أما الجزء التاني-وهو الجزء اللي أعتقد أعطي شهرة لهذه الرواية- اللي بيتكلم فيه عن الهولوكوست و المحاكمات التي تمت بعد سقوط الرايخ الثالث وهتلر ..الجزء دة مبني علي فكرة العار والذنب الذي يشعر به الجيل التاني علي الجيل السابق الذي عايش فترة هتلر و إحساسهم إنه كان الممكن يرفضوا ما كان يحدث أو يحاولوا في مساعدة المعتقلين بأي طريقة...
بدون حرق للأحداث أو دخول في تفاصيل بس طبعاً في ربط مباشر بين الجزئين و يأتي الجزء التالت والأخير ليضع نهاية مؤلمة لهذه الرواية وهو في رأيي كان أحلي جزء فيهم..

الرواية مكتوبة بسلاسة وحتلاقي نفسك مش قادر تبطل قراءة علي الرغم إن الأحداث إلي حد ما عادية...
شخصية هانا -وهي شخصية رئيسية في الرواية -لم ترسم بعناية.. مقدرتش أفهمها أوي ولا أتعاطف معاها إلا في الجزء الأخير ..
ترجمة الرواية -في رأيي -كانت سيئة..أفقدت العمل الكثير الصراحة لدرجة إن الأحداث ملمستنيش أوي ومحسيتش إنها رواية دافية كدة ومعرفش هل ده بسبب الترجمة الغير موفقة ولا هي دي طريقة الكاتب..

رواية جميلة علي الرغم من كل شئ والرواية ليها فيلم من بطولة كيت ونسلت وأخدت عليه أوسكار وأظن إن الفيلم حيكون أحلي بكتير من الرواية..

تقييمي للكتاب ٣ نجوم وحتة :)
وبما إن الحتة دي صغيرة و مش كبيرة أوي يعني ،فحيفضل التقييم النهائي عند ٣ نجوم فقط لا غير:)