Inedit modul de naratiune - de la umorul si naivitatea din scrisorile lui Alex, la realismul magic din pasajele lui Jonathan, am trecut prin toate starile si am descoperit pe parcurs o (posibila) istorie de familie, cu traditii si mituri locale, iubiri si tradari, regrete si speranta.

,,Asta inseamna iubire, nu? gandea ea. Cand observi absenta cuiva si urasti acea absenta mai mult decat orice altceva? Mai mult chiar decat ii iubesti prezenta?"

Also ehrlich gesagt hatte ich ernsthafte Probleme mit dem Roman: Die verwirrenden zusammenhanglosen Erzählstränge zu Beginn, die Art der Präsentation von manchmal sehr kryptischen Stilmitteln, die für mich nichts zur Aussage oder Inhalt des Buches beitrugen und dann auch noch die krause Art des Ukrainers Alex zu reden, reduzierten für mich den Lesespass erheblich. Bezüglich der eigentümlichen Sprache und des daraus entstehenden Witzes habe ich mir manchmal gedacht, dass ich das Buch besser in Originalsprache(Englisch)gelesen hätte - da wär wahrscheinlich der Sprachwitz besser bei mir angekommen.

Die historischen und familiären Geschichten dieses Road-Romans haben mir aber gut gefallen, nur die Präsentation war eben nicht meins.

Foer's bizarre mix of eroticism and WWII horror is somewhat disquieting. I found myself torn between arousal, boredom, horror, and laughter. At times the writing borders on histrionic – the melodrama between the grandfather’s lovers becomes ludicrous, and Foer exhibits the excruciating desire to excavate each human emotion from his personnel as his contemporary Lydia Millet.

That said, the one stream-of-consciousness scene turns out to be the most powerful moment in the novel. Which is quite an achievement, as even Joyce didn’t pull that one off. There’s also a scene of gruesome slaughter that ranks as one of the most naturally horrific depictions of WWII horror that I've ever read. Foer is a compassionate writer, but at times I felt this compassion giving way to a detached glibness that soon bored me.

So, an odd mixture. His second novel is a bona fide piece of genius, so I'd recommend starting there.

A twenty-year old American Jew, whose name just happens to be Jonathan Safran Soer, travels to Ukraine in an effort to locate the site of the village of Trachimbrod that was razed by the Nazis in 1942. In doing so, the invaders executed practically all of the village’s Jewish inhabitants. He is also on a quest to find a woman named Augustine whom he believes helped his grandfather to escape the Nazis. To assist him, he hires the services of the Heritage Touring Company. Since the owner’s son, Alex, has been studying English at school, he is cajoled into serving as Jonathan’s translator. Alex is also twenty, but he doesn’t have a driver’s license, so his grandfather is forced against his will to be the guide and driver.

I should also mention that the trio is accompanied by the driver’s seeing-eye dog, Sammy Davis, Junior, Junior. Yes, that’s right, the driver’s seeing-eye dog, and one that he obtained from “the home for forgetful dogs,” and is named after his favorite singer. When he is told that the “Negro of the Rat Pack” was a Jew, he changes the name to Dean Martin, Junior.

The novel consists of three interwoven narrative arcs. First, after he returns home, Jonathan sends chapters of his novel-in-progress to Alex. The novel begins in 1791 and ends in 1942 with the destruction of the village by the Nazis. In it, he imagines the lives of his ancestors who lived there.

Second, are chapters that Alex is writing and that he sends to Jonathan. They are accounts of the attempts by the trio to locate the village and the woman. True, Alex is studying English, but he still has a way to go. His malapropisms would make Norm Crosby or Professor Irwin Corey green with envy. (I realize that only readers of a certain age will understand the Crosby and Corey references, but it’s the best I can do.)

Third, are the letters that Alex writes Jonathan. It is apparent from what Alex writes that Jonathan is also mailing him letters, but we never get to read them. It is also apparent that the two are commenting on each other’s work.

I have to admit that I think that Alex is a better writer than Jonathan (at least a better writer than the Jonathan who is writing Trachimbrod’s history) and that I find Alex’s portion of the book to be the most interesting. Jonathan’s account of Trachimbrod is written in a magical-realism vein that I don’t particularly care for. Give me magic, or give me realism, but don’t try to give me both at the same time. Of course, if I have a choice I prefer realism. But that’s me.

Furthermore, as the book progresses Alex’s English improves and he becomes downright eloquent. Laura Miller, reviewing the book on the Salon website, suggests “you can skim the Trachimbrod sections without missing that much.” I didn’t, but she’s right.

I don’t want to leave the impression that this is a book of humor from the first page to the last. It isn’t. It can’t be. Eventually, it has to confront the Holocaust and when it does the story must become deadly and devastatingly serious – and it does.

It is a book that the reader must stay with and not abandon too quickly. Everything eventually falls into place; one could even say that in the end everything is illuminated.

Published in 2002, it was the author’s debut novel, and he was all of twenty-five years old at the time. The reviews were almost unanimously favorable. Well, almost. Sam Jordison wrote in The Guardian that the novel was “a ragbag of old tricks; a clever book for dumb reviewers.” If that’s true, then I guess I have been outed.

I have mixed feelings about this one; I loved the magic realism and the story about the history of the shtetl, the characters in it and the history up to the second world war. The modern story did not grab me. I found the use of language in the present briefly funny and then irritating (flaccid to utter for easy to say, rigid journey for hard journey). Hard work with a thesaurus I would think, but half the novel is like this. I'm not sure whether the Alex's were a nod to A Clockwork Orange, which also mangled the language at times. To me all this was a bit too smart and not engaging.
However, despite the strong comic element, I found the tragedy in it more convincing and the story of Yankel and Brod was excellent

Valóban prémium könyv. Újraolvasható, vagyis kedvenc. Sikítóan röhögséges és néholvást mélyenszántóan holtkomoly. Mint az élet maga, ami hol nagybetűs, hol meg egész kicsi. Sok szempontból tetszett JSF regénye, de alább most egy szektariánusabb olvasat-koncepciómat járatom körbe.
Már rég behúzott az örvénylő Trachimbrodiáda, mire a történetörvény háromnegyedén szöget ütött a szemembe az a mondat (nagyjából), hogy még azt is feljegyezték, mit evett reggelire valamelyik ősapjuk egy csütörtöki reggelen. Ez az ősapa pedig nem más, feleim, mint a birkavesét reggelizett jó Leopold Bloom, 1904 június 16-án, ami történetesen csütörtökre esett. Bizony.
Annyi párhuzam van a Minden vilángol és a Ulysses között, hogy csak na. Az egymásba fonódó történetek vezérszálai egy fiatal ember (Aleksz Perchov – Stephen Dedalus) sorsszerű és meghatározó találkozása egy idősebb emberrel (Jonathan Safran Foer – Leopold Bloom), valamint kettejük körül kavarog egy helyszín egész történelme és mitológiája (Trachimbrod, Ukrajna – Dublin, Írország). Az idősebb férfi történetesen zsidó (mindketten), és távoli kultúrákat idéznek meg (Amerika – Osztrák-Magyar Monarchia). A rengeteg stilisztikai és nyelvi játék, szimbolika és miegymás kibogozása szintén érdekes lenne, ám meghaladja szerény képességeimet. Az viszont kétségtelen, hogy erős Joyce-i hatás érződik a regényben – és ahogy az Ulysses, úgy ez is erősen intertextuális, azaz telistele van utalásokkal egy bibliográfiányi másik könyvre (többek között Marquez és I.B. Singer írásaira). És ez így van nagyon jól! Sok remek könyv működik így, és a legjobb, mikor az író két kézzel szórja a felgöngyölíthető rejtélyeket a nyomozóhajlamúbb olvasó útjába. Ujjongok.
Ugyanakkor Joyce monstre regényével ellentétben, ez a könyv (relatív) könnyen olvasható. Ez viszont mit sem vesz el az élményből. Ötös!

Well, I've waited a few days to get my thoughts together on this and to try and write a review, but I still have no idea where to even start. And now I've forgotten most of the quotes that I wanted to include, and of course don't have the book with me now. I've only read JSF's Eating Animals before, so I really didn't know what to expect from this being fiction. I've read a lot of the Foer love/hate comments, but not a whole lot on what this book was actually about.

I finished this pretty late on New Year's Eve-thank God I was alone, because I was an emotional wreck. Seriously, for me, this book was pretty damn near perfect. It was one of those where I didn't ever want it to end, but I couldn't stop reading. I fell in love with each and every character in the book, to the point where I want spin-off novels on each of them to expand on more of their story. (Feel free to start on that anytime, JSF...thanks)

This was so good, I almost immeadiately wanted to pick up Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, which I've heard from a lot of people is even better than this one. I've decided to wait a little bit, since the thought of having read everything Foer has published so far kind of makes me sad. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hold out for though...

7 yıl önce okudum bu romanı. bu sene yazarın son kitabı Buradayım'ı okuyup agos'a yazdığımda kendi kendime yazın bu romana döneceğimin sözünü vermiştim.
tekrar okumak da çok güzeldi.
müthiş bir ilk kitap, 1800'lerden başlayan bir aile tarihi, gerçeküstü, masalsı bir anlatım, köklerini arayan yazarın hem güldüren hem ağlatan yolculuğu... yarım yamalak ingilizce konuşan rehberin kendi aile trajedisiyle anlatıya ortak olması... daha neler neler... bizde niye böylesi yok dedirten bir yaratıcılık. hele o rehberin mektupları ve o saçma ingilizcenin türkçeye muhteşem çevrilişi ❤️ okumadıysanız, az da olsa farklıyı ve zoru seviyorsanız, kaçırmayın derim.

Premesso che non sono una lettrice facile al riso, devo ammettere che questo libro mi ha regalato momenti di autentico divertimento.
Non mancano, a mio avviso, alcuni difetti che ne limitano la chiarezza, specie nelle parti del racconto delle vicende del passato; o alcuni eccessi, ad esempio nell'insistenza su particolari raccapriccianti e un po' irritanti.
Tuttavia il romanzo è molto originale ed il personaggio di Alex particolarmente riuscito. Con la sua ingenuità ed il suo ingarbugliato e irresistibile linguaggio, mi ha conquistato, commosso e fatto ridere fino alle lacrime.

You can tell in different ways to say about sad and scary things so much that the consciousness refuses to perceive them but if it is important not just to say, but to be heard, perfect seriousness is not the most successful. People avoid information that can unsettle them for a long time, upset their mental balance, and make them suffer. Compassion and empathy provoke emotional discomfort, which we are ready to accept at a specially designated time for this: "This is a hard movie / book, I cried so much," - once every six months or a year. The rest of the time, entertain us.

Let the phrase in the epigraph not seem the most elegant, it is an intentional device associated with the peculiarity of the structure of the book. Epic, serious, dramatic and unbearably sick fragments from the history of the Jewish village of Trachimbrod in Ukraine are neatly wrapped and laid here with comical episodes of the epic of an American who came to worship the graves of his ancestors. And his Ukrainian Russian-speaking guide, who considers himself also English-speaking, which confidence serves as a source of much fun for readers.

Because the effect of a damaged phone, directly related to various kinds of translation difficulties, amuses us almost on a par with slipping on a banana peel or even the word "ass", which for some reason is out of competition in the humorous genre. The American Jonathan Foer (the coincidence of the names of the author and the hero is one of the unusual features of the book) first needs to find his native ashes. Here the idiom should be taken literally. During the war, the Germans first turned a Jewish village into a ghetto, driving Jews from all the surrounding towns there, and then killed everyone. And so, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, the grandson of the sole survivor comes to find the woman who saved his grandfather then.

И все осветилось
Юмор - единственный правдивый способ рассказать печальный рассказ.
Так и есть, о вещах грустных и страшных настолько, что сознание отказывается их воспринимать, можно рассказывать разными способами, но если важно не просто сказать, а быть услышанным, совершенная серьезность не самый удачный. Люди избегают информации, которая может надолго выбить из колеи, нарушить душевное равновесие, заставить страдать. Сострадание и сопереживание провоцируют эмоциональный дискомфорт, который мы готовы принимать в специально отведенное для этого время: "Это тяжелый фильм/книга, я так плакал(а)", - раз в полгода-год. В остальное время развлеките нас.

Пусть фраза в эпиграфе не кажется самой изящной, это намеренный прием, связанный с особенностью структуры книги. Эпичные, серьезные, драматические и невыносимо больные фрагменты из истории еврейской деревни Трахимброд на Украине аккуратно обернуты и проложены здесь комичными эпизодами эпопеи американца, приехавшего поклониться могилам предков. И его украинского русскоговорящего гида, который сам себя считает еще и англоговорящим, каковая уверенность служит источником много��о веселья для читателей.

Потому что эффект испорченного телефона, напрямую связанный с разного рода трудностями перевода, веселит нас едва ли не наравне с оскальзыванием на банановой кожуре или даже словом "жопа", которое почему-то вне конкуренции в юмористическом жанре. Американцу Джонатану Фоеру (совпадение имен автора и героя - одна из необычностей книги) прежде нужно разыскать родные пепелища. Зздесь идиому стоит понимать буквально. Во время войны немцы сначала превратили еврейскую деревню в гетто, согнав туда иудеев со всех окрестных городов, а потом убили всех. И вот, в начале двадцать первого века внук единственного выжившего приезжает, чтобы разыскать женщину, которая спасла тогда его деда.

А поскольку ни русским, ни украинским он не владеет, то решает воспользоваться услугами частной конторы "Туры наследия", специализирующейся на организации сопровождения с трансфером и переводом для еврейских эмигрантов. Отец, глава семейной фирмы, перманентно в объятьях зеленого змия, потому везти туриста на раздолбанных фамильных жигулях выпадает дедушке (слепому) и семнадцатилетнему внуку Саше, который мечтает уехать в Америку, закончить там бухгалтерскую школу, преуспеть и зажить достойной своих амбиций жизнью, прячет неуверенность в себе за бравадой,любит прихвастнуть, выдавая желаемое за действительное, и, в общем, тот еще словотворец.

Их уморительно смешные дорожные приключения, а после не менее забавные письма, которыми Алекс пишет Джонатану, занимают значительный объем толстенького шестисотстраничного тома, и да, это необходимо, потому что без такой перебивки трагедия Трахимброда была бы невыносима. И здесь нельзя не сказать о восхитительном переводе Василия Арканова, он и с первой книгой Фоера "Жутко громко и запредельно близко" был хорош, но там не было таких семантических игр, основанных на неверном словоупотреблении самоучки, сначала раздражающем, а после обретшем странное очарование.

И этими двумя линиями "Полная иллюминация" не исчерпывается.Потому что по сути это еврейская книга, вмещающая историю Трахимброда от начала до конца в совершенно макондовом стиле "Ста лет одиночества" с поправкой на национальный и географический колорит. История прекрасной Брод образец украино-еврейского магического реализма, достойный восхищения. Но и это еще не все, линия фриковатой семьи Алекса, которая поначалу кажется решенной в исключительно фарсовом ключе, внезапно взрывается высокой трагедией и ты, читатель, просто не знаешь, куда смотреть, что запоминать, чему отдать предпочтение.

Все хорошо в этой книге, и замечательно, что я наконец прочла ее. Чего и вам желаю.

Gimmicks as substance.

30/12/2010 Black forest cake and cheap champers has got the better of me - review to follow shortly..
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So far monumentally profound in a weird kind of serendipitous epiphaneia - well to me anyway: it's like trying to describe the dawning of the light upon the darkness of my own mongrel family tree and perhaps that is what is so illuminating about it.
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Found we have this in the TBR box & forgot to list it on GR, must have bought it on one of the last 2nd hand buying sprees (all you can fit in a bag for $10).

Planning on doing a similar quest at some point like J. Safran Foer does in this book, but need more information before embarking. Veiled clues & family stories hint that my maternal Gr.Gr. Grandfather & possibly his grandson's wife's family came from somewhere in those ever shifting borderlands around what was once known as Volhynia.

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23 01/2011
Finally got around to watching the dvd tonight. Compared to the book Alex is the main character in the film, followed by the grandfather, then Jonathan. The movie has been lambasted elsewhere for leaving out this and that, but I think you have to appreciate the directors' vision and that it's difficult to translate a book totally. What everyone takes from a book is individual, ditto it's only human to transpose that into film differently. The film did clear up some confusion for me, ie. who Alex's grandfather was in relation to the woman in the sunflower field and in relation to Jonathan's grandfather - the book kind of fuddled me there. It's shot in the Ukraine and the countryside is beautiful......
Not sure if it's worth mentioning but my daughter wondered why Jonathan was collecting dirt from beside the river.......this is a thing Jewish people do when visiting Holocaust sites, so they can take home some piece of their loved ones - the book doesn't mention Jonathan being a collector...(where he collects dirt, photographs, grasshoppers and things of family significance)......but the film adds this characteristic. It works for me. I liked it. There was a silence not visible in the book - and that made it more poignant - but the book fills the silence with the history of the river ~ which is also poignant in another way. For those who like history. Once again as in the book the dinner sequence where the potato falls on the floor has me in stitches. This is a Ukrainian custom. You have to share that which falls on the floor. It also reminds me of the emails my daughter sent me when she was in the Ukraine, "send food, all you can get here is potatoes and meat".