La vita come la conosciamo è finita, e tuttavia nessuno è capace di capire da che cosa sia stata rimpiazzata

Questo è un libro che ti afferra, da subito , e non ti molla
Sei condotto in un posto sconosciuto, devastato , dove c'è solo morte e distruzione, dove non c'è più niente , senza nessuna spiegazione ,nessuna causa da comprendere ,nessuna certezza
Non può mai esservi un percorso fisso e puoi sopravvivere solo se niente ti è necessario. Devi essere in grado senza alcun preavviso , di lasciare perdere quanto stavi facendo ,di muovere nella direzione opposta. Di conseguenza devi imparare a leggere i segnali
Bisogna sempre stare all'erta, le case sono ridotte a macerie, non c'è alcuna sicurezza, non c'è cibo, bisogna inventarsi di continuo stratagemmi per sopravvivere a ogni nuova mancanza, nulla dura a lungo, si fatica a distinguere ciò che è o non è successo...mancano persino le parole per vivere insieme, resta "il linguaggio dei fantasmi"
quando scompare la speranza, quando ti accorgi di aver smesso di sperare persino nella possibilità di sperare, tendi a riempire gli spazi vuoti con sogni, pensieri e piccole storie infantili, solo per tirare avanti. Anche le persone più indurite non riescono ad evitarlo.
Cosa resta? Si tocca il fondo ,si soddisfano i bisogni insopprimibili e si cancellano tutti gli altri, si abbandonano uno per uno, gli interessi ,le cose a cui si teneva ,la memoria stessa vacilla, si tenta di raggiungere una indifferenza , potente e sublime, per proteggersi dalla durezza di una realtà insopportabile
Però .
Alla fine - così fa Anna Blume - ciò che ci nutre e ci fa vivere ,è comunque il rapporto con gli altri, trovare qualcuno di cui fidarsi, anche se il rischio è altissimo, difendere strenuamente gli scampoli del piacere di essere vivi.
Davvero strano rintracciare nel paese delle ultime cose apparentemente altro, distopico,lontanissimo
,l' egoismo ,la violenza, l'incomunicabilità del nostro mondo.
Lettura suggestiva e angosciante.
4 stelle! <

Ik heb een wat scheve verhouding met Paul Auster. Jaren geleden las ik m.n. "The New York Trilogy" en "Moon Palace" met enorm veel plezier, en toen wou ik nog alles van hem lezen. Maar later kwam daar toch de klad in: veel andere mooie boeken van andere goede schrijvers trokken de aandacht, en bovendien vond ik veel nieuw werk van Auster toch minder goed. Ook raakte ik wat uitgekeken op zijn weliswaar heldere en intrigerende maar soms ook wat eentonige en bovendien weinig veranderende stijl, zijn weliswaar intrigerende maar ook steeds terugkerende thema's, zijn weliswaar virtuoze maar ook steeds terugkerende spel met dubbele bodems en werkelijkheidsniveaus, en op zijn neiging om van zijn personages vooral symbolen en vehikels van (weliswaar intrigerende) filosofische ideeën te maken waardoor die personages in sommige boeken wat bloedeloos worden. Maar ja, ik vond het wel jammer dat ik "In the country of last things" nooit gelezen had, want dat geldt voor veel mensen als een weliswaar wat atypische Auster maar ook als een van zijn betere boeken. Dus nu las ik hem 20 jaar na eerste publicatie alsnog. Met veel en soms zelfs buitensporig veel plezier, moet ik zeggen. En mij bekruipt nou toch weer de lust om weer wat meer van hem te gaan lezen, of om bijvoorbeeld "Moon Palace" te herlezen.

Het verhaal speelt in een naamloze stad, die zich bevindt in een naamloos land. Het decor is uitermate dystopisch: ongenoemde maar wel ingrijpende rampen hebben de stad (en het land) volkomen ontwricht, en tot een oord gemaakt waarin nachtmerrieachtige onwerkelijkheid, entropie en chaos hoogtij vieren. Dat alles wordt ons verteld in een lange brief van ene Anna Blume aan een niet met name genoemde geadresseerde: Anna die haar verdwenen broer zocht in dit onwerkelijke oord, hem uiteraard niet vindt, en zelf, in een van vele bizarre toevalligheden vergeven wervelwind vol mentale en fysieke omwentelingen, geheel op de dool is geraakt. Meteen in de eerste regels wordt die onwerkelijkheid al stevig onderstreept: "These are the last things, she wrote. One by one they disappear and never come back. [...] I don't expect you to understand. You have seen none of this, and even if you tried, you could not imagine it. These are the last things. A house is there one day, and the next day it is gone. A street you walked down yesterday is no longer here today. Even the weather is in constant flux". En zo gaat Anna nog een tijdje door. De vele voorbeelden die zij geeft van verdwijnende fenomenen, gecombineerd met de mededeling dat de aangesproken (maar anonieme en dus onkenbare) jij het niet gaat begrijpen, en met de herhaling van "These are the last things", onderstrepen haar bodemloze verbazing en vervreemding.

Daarnaast is ook het begin (de allereerste zin) vrij vervreemdend, althans in mijn ogen: "These are the last things, she wrote". Normaal gesproken zou "These are the last things" door aanhalingstekens zijn gemarkeerd, en zo als citaat zijn gescheiden van "she wrote", maar hier niet. Alsof het citaat ook weer geen citaat is, alsof het niveauverschil tussen schrijfhandeling en de in die handeling geproduceerde zin hier niet geldt. Bovendien, van WIE is deze zin, die een activiteit (een schrijfhandeling) van Anna Blume van buitenaf beschrijft, terwijl het verdere verhaal zich ontrolt als brief die door Anna Blume zelf is geschreven? In de stad is alles veranderlijk zodat niets is wat het lijkt, en de brief van Anna Blume die ons daarover vertelt lijkt door dit vreemde begin (en latere soortgelijke passages) toch iets anders te zijn dan een brief van Anna Blume. Dat komt ook door de namen van sommige personages: Anna's latere geliefde heet "Samuel Farr" wat wel een HEEL gezochte en dus openlijk verzonnen naam is, een bijfiguur heet "Quinn" wat ook de naam is van een belangrijk personage uit "The New York Trilogy", en de naam "Blume" roept zodanig openlijke associaties op met womb, tomb, doom en gloom dat ook DIE naam verzonnen lijkt te zijn. En daarmee ook de persoon Anna Blume. Het hele verhaal wordt dus wel als brief van Anna Blume gepresenteerd, maar lijkt eerder een verzinsel van iemand anders. Maar wie is die "iemand"?

Een ander vervreemdend element is naar mijn idee de vaak opmerkelijk vlakke, afstandelijke, soms bijna onderkoelde en bewust bloedeloze stijl. Criticasters van Auster vinden dat die stijl al te emotieloos is en de lezer te veel op afstand houdt. Maar ik zie dat anders, ook bij dit boek. Daarin is het zoals gezegd soms onduidelijk of Anna Blume de verteller is of toch iemand anders, wat bijdraagt aan de fascinerende vreemdheid van het boek, maar ook passages waarin Anna zelf duidelijk aan het woord lijkt hebben iets zeer vervreemdends, juist door die afstandelijkheid. Alsof ze over zichzelf vertelt en toch ook weer niet. Alsof er distantie is tussen Anna Blume die vertelt en Anna Blume die de dingen meemaakt waarover wordt verteld. De toon is er een van verbaasde en niet- begrijpende reflectie achteraf. Het is in mijn beleving de toon die hoort bij scherpzinnige, vaak diepzinnig- filosofische, analytische, maar uiteindelijk ontoereikende denkarbeid. Dat draagt op voor mij fascinerende wijze bij aan de vreemdheid en ongrijpbaarheid van de in dit boek geevoceerde wereld. En ik vind het vaak nog ontroerend ook: juist die onderkoelde en niet- begrijpende toon onderstreept hoe zeer Anna Blume haar eigen ervaringen en emoties niet meer begrijpt, en dat is voor mij minstens zo emotionerend als expliciete op papier gekwakte emotie.

Soms vind ik de formuleringen van Auster bovendien erg fraai. Zo laat hij Anna, tijdens haar bezigheden als vuilnisverzamelaarster, het volgende bepeinzen: "At a certain point, things disintegrate into muck, or dust, or scraps, and what you have is something new, some particle or agglomeration of matter that cannot be identified. It is a clump, a mote, a fragment of the world that has no place: a cipher of it-ness". Ook prachtig vind ik een zin als: "Every time you think you know the answer to a question, you discover that the question makes no sense". En bepaald niet gering vind ik ook de volgende passage:"You see what you are up against. It's not just that things vanish - but once they vanish, the memory of them vanishes as well. Dark areas form in the brain, and unless you make a constant effort to summon up the things that are gone, they will be quickly lost to you forever. I am no more immune to this disease than anyone else, and no doubt there are many such blanks inside me". IJzersterk hoe Auster hier een volkomen onttakelde binnenwereld en buitenwereld voor ogen tovert, die van veel ons vertrouwde stoffering is ontdaan. Een dystopische of post apocalyptische wereld, zou je kunnen zeggen, die ook helaas overeenkomsten heeft met de ons bekende wereld: een soortgelijke chaotische fragmentatie is ook kenmerkend voor veel steden die nu door oorlog zijn getroffen, of door een erg ingrijpende terroristische aanslag. Sommige bijna onmogelijk bizarre taferelen schijnt Auster dan ook letterlijk te hebben ontleend aan boeken over de slag bij Stalingrad. Tegelijk schetst hij, denk ik, ook de wereld zoals de door Auster bewonderde Beckett hem ziet: een wereld die van alle illusies en conventionele zingeving is ontdaan, zodat eeen leegte overblijft waarin "there is nothing to express, nothing with which to express". Of de vertrouwde wereld zoals waargenomen door de ogen van iemand die door ziekte of totale armoede van alle houvast is beroofd. Niet voor niets vergelijkt Anna Blume haar "disease", het mechanisme waardoor haar geheugen en haar hele innerlijk vol lacunes zit, met die van "anybody else". Ook ons innerlijk zit vol lacunes, ook ons geheugen zit vol zwarte gaten waar ooit het beeld zat van een ding of belevenis. Althans, dat suggereert Auster hier, volgens mij.

Dit alles lijkt en is wel zeer somber. Toch zit "In the country of last things" ook vol hoop, zij het hoop tegen de klippen op. Er lopen bijvoorbeeld diverse personages in rond die zich storten op bepaalde vormen van onmogelijke maar toch met vuur nagestreefde kunst: het maken van steeds kleiner wordende bootjes in steeds kleiner wordende flessen, het eindeloos schrijven aan een nooit voltooid en uiteindelijk ook in vlammen opgaand boek dat de naamloze stad had moeten omvatten, personages die hun eigen identiteit voortdurend opnieuw uitvinden in een nooit ophoudende stroom van bijna carnavaleske maskerades..... En ook Anna Blume zelf, die ondanks haar desolate lot niet in troosteloze stilte vervalt maar schrijft en schrijft en schrijft. Dus ja, wat Auster ons hier voorschotelt is chaos, entropie, eenzaamheid, hopeloosheid, eindeloze fragmentatie. Maar wat hij ons ook voorschotelt is de kracht van kunst, als wellicht weerloos maar niettemin onontbeerlijk weermiddel tegen dat alles. Want ook in een wereld waarin alles alle zin verloren heeft is er bij Auster nog de reddende kracht van kunst. Aldus Auster. Denk ik. En ik wil hem graag geloven, zeker als ik kijk naar zijn vele mooie zinnen.

Ik vond "In the country of last things" verrassend intrigerend, moet ik zeggen. Misschien heb ik Auster toch onderschat. Wie weet is dit voor mij dan ook de opmaat tot een hernieuwde kennismaking met zijn werk.

بازم باید از پل استر بخونم... بازم

از پل استر زیاد خوندم و طبیعتا باید بتونم خوب ازش بنویسم البته تو ذهنم خوب میتونم آنالیزش کنم خوب میفهممش ولی پای ریویو نوشتن که میرسه میگم نه هنوز زوده بازم بخون
تا اینجا بهترین کتابش برام"اختراع انزوا" بود
عجیب کتابی بود ومتفاوت

در مورد این کتابم میتونم بگم که اینجا هم مثل مون پالاس و شهرشیشه ای با شخصیت هایی طرفیم که همه چیزشون رو از دست دادند با این تفاوت که اینجا مورد بحث فقط یه شخصیت نیست اینبار کلا داستان تو کشور آخرین ها میگذره یه آخرالزمان ترسناک و هولناک که همه چیز در اون در حال فروپاشیه اما هنوز کاملا نابود نشده
پل استر استاد نوشتن از حالت و شرایط و واکنش آدماییِ که در نهایت فشارن ، خیلی خوب میتونه از آدمایی بگه که به بن بست رسیدن، باهمه جزئیاتش، مرحله به مرحله
بین فیلم وکتاب هایی که از آخرالزمان دیدم و خوندم کشور آخرین ها متفاوت بود چون هم اینکه از اولش متوجه نشدم دارم یه کتاب در مورد فروپاشی دنیا میخونم، دومین دلیل پرداختن به همون جزئیاته
تو کتاب میگه:"زمان درازی طول میکشه تا جهانی کاملا نابود شود، بسیار بیش از آن چه تصور کنی. زندگی ها ادامه می یابندو هر یک از ما شاهد درام کوچک خود باقی می مانیم"
زندگی ها ادامه می یابند، اما چطور؟ هنر نویسنده اینجاست که برای تک تک این نیازهای مردم فکر کرده این که تو این کشور غذا رو چطور تهیه کنن، چه شغل هایی دارن، دولت چه کار میکنه تو این وضع؟ ، مردم برای زنده موندن دست به چه کارایی میزنن؟، اگه تو این شرایط بخوان بمیرن(که عادی به نظر میاد) با چه روش هایی خودشونو به کشتن میدن؟چرا اصلا از این کشور نمیذارن برن؟
برای همه اینا تو کتاب جوابی هست برای همین تصور سازی همچین دنیایی برام سخت به نظر نمی رسید.
فرم نامه نویسی کتاب هم انتخاب جالبی بود و دوست داشتم.

translater and expat Paul Auster suddenly at age 35 releases his father-son memoir 'Invention of Solitude' and then at age 40 releases the acclaimed New York Trilogy as well as this slim, dystopian volume. drawing comparisons most closely with '1984,' "The Country of Last Things" is faintly allegorical (poverty?), post-disaster, Roadesque (but the Road is 2006 and this is 1987), a city novel, a poverty novel, a hunger novel, an examination of societal breakdown as well as incident, idealism, and mood/tone.

this tiny book, although deceptively simple, offers a long epistle capturing the experiences of a recent arrival to the city who is caught up in the cycle of poverty and crime, experiencing slow degradation of circumstance. misses the 5 due to length and absolute heftiness (a similar assessment is possible for the Road), Country is a fast read, and the two most popular reviews on this entry do a strong job and cover much of what needs be said.

"هر بار که میپنداری پاسخ پرسشی را یافته ای ، پی میبری که آن پرسش هیچ مفهومی ندارد "

I have friends who, when entering my library for the first time, see my collection of Auster novels and say, "Oh my God! You read Auster!" I have other friends who, when entering my library for the first time, see my collection of Auster novels and say, "Oh my God! You read Auster!?" One way spoken in surprise and delight, the other in surprise and derision. Yes, Auster polarizes.

And I get why people don't like him. Many of his novels have a self-referential shtick that I can see as being off-putting to some readers. I once had dinner with a friend in L.A., a card carrying Austerhater, and I was trying to convince him of the merits of Leviathan. I kept coming at him in different ways, trying to sell my way around his objections, but no sale. At one point he actually said, "If you don't stop talking about that shit book I won't tell you about an amazing book I've just finished that I was going to recommend to you." This friend, despite his Auster issues, has really good recommendations (this is years before GR, mind you, his influence is waning thanks to my new chums) - I took the bait, dropped the Auster pitch and received the recommendation for The Fortress of Solitude. I was never going to convince this friend of Auster's merits, so I consider it a good trade.

But after having completed this beautiful and haunting novel, I will go to the mat for Auster on this one. A fully imagined vision of hell, ItCoLT is a meticulously and beautifully written book of a dystopian country that is only a few shades of horrible away from life on any of Earth's locales. Auster's use of the first person narrator (penning her thoughts to a family she may never see again) leading the reader through a tale of horror in a nameless country works. We are invested in Anna Blume from the opening pages. Good and evil, right and wrong - they are worthless considerations in a land where humanity is an anachronism. Huxley opined, "Maybe this planet is another planet's hell." Auster takes that premise to the next place, our hell, and creates a setting that is so clear, so horrible, one can't help but feel like one's been there after reading Anna Blume's missive.

I'm going to buy another copy of this book and give it to my Auster hating friend for his birthday. If he doesn't like it, I will revoke his literary friend status.

عجیب این کتاب من رو یاد ایران می اندازه. جایی که همه چیز گم می شه و چیزی ازش باقی نمی مونه. اینکه همه فقط مراقب خودشون هستن و کلاه اشون رو دو دستی گرفتن که باد نبره. جایی بود که داشت دو گروه رو مقایسه می کرد که دلیل بارون باریدن های عجیب رو تو گناه هان گذشته می دونستن. یک سری روی زمین می خزیدن و یه سری چهاردست و پا می رفتن تا نشون بدن از گناهانشون پشیمون ان. و بعد سر اینکه کدوم گروه درست می گه با هم دعوا می کردن ...
جایی دیگه در مورد پروژه دولت برای ساختن یه دیواربلند کنار ساحل حرف می زنه که هدف اش جلوگیری از حمله دشمن هست. اون هم تو شهری که مرده ها رو به عنوان سوخت می سوزونن...
راستش خوندن کتاب من رو ترسوند از آینده ایران، نکنه به همچین جامعه ای برسیم؟

من متن انگلیسی کتاب رو خوندن و واقعا که پل استر چقدر زیبا نوشته. از همون خطوط اول داستان و نحوه بیان اش جذب ام کرد تا اخر کتاب.

Post-Apocalyptic Apocrypha

I don’t normally seek out post-apocalyptic novels, but Paul Auster’s novel is one to treasure.

Even though it is an early work, I felt I was in the hands of a master.

It is both beautifully written and wise.

It’s easy to read, but it’s not so easily “readable” that I could read it without turning the telly off.

Although its style is sparse and economical, there’s a lot happening beneath the surface.

Still, Auster carefully manages exactly how much he wants us to know and what he wants to remain unclear or open for conjecture.

This transforms the reader into a literary detective, a sifter of clues and memories.

Anna’s Epistle to An Unnamed Friend

The story is told in the voice of 19 year old Anna Blume in the form of a long letter to a friend who isn’t identified (but might be a little sister or a childhood friend).

The letter is a summary of her time in a post-apocalyptic city, written hurriedly in the last days before she expects to escape it illegally.

I’m not sure how appropriate or successful the epistolary format was.

There is only one long 190 page letter written in a blue notebook, not an exchange of correspondence.

We only get one point of view. It could just as readily have been a journal, apart from the fact that it’s addressed to one particular person.

A Letter Never Sent?

Was her letter ever sent?

It’s not clear whether the letter was ever delivered or read. It's quite possible that it wasn't.

This could be an inevitable consequence of the choice of epistolary format.

Normally, this format would dictate that the novel must work internally within the letter.

We can only assume that someone “found” or received it, even if it wasn’t the addressee for whom it was intended.

However, in the first few pages, there are some clues.

Phrases like ”she wrote” and “her letter continued” are interposed into the letter.

Perhaps, they are intended to suggest that somebody other than we readers might have found the letter and read it, if not necessarily the addressee.

However, ultimately, whether or not it was read by the right person, Auster implicitly makes the point that it was worth writing (if only because ultimately he wrote it!).

An Incomprehensible Apocalypse

As you would expect, Paul Auster doesn’t tell us a lot about the nature of the Apocalypse itself. It’s cloaked in mystery.

The novel is more concerned with its aftermath.

Anna Blume arrived in the city by foreign charity ship, 12 months after the Apocalypse occurred.

She comes from a different country to the east, possibly England.

There are opportunities to reveal where she comes from (presumably she has a foreign accent, but nobody comments on it; Victoria, one of the people she meets on the way, has sent her children to England to escape the Apocalypse, but they don't appear to discuss this common interest).

It seems strange that nothing is made of these opportunities to disclose her origins, although Anna might not have thought them important enough.

A Report Never Filed

Anna is looking for her older brother, William, a journalist who had previously come to report on the events for a newspaper, but has since gone missing.

It’s not clear how much reporting has got through to the rest of the world. Not much by the sound of it.

A Collapse of Epidemic Proportions

Only when Anna has been in the city for some time does she learn that:

"...some kind of epidemic had broken out there. The city government had come in, walled off the area, and burned everything down to the ground.

"Or so the story went. I have since learned not to take the things I am told too seriously.

"It’s not that people make a point of lying to you, it’s just that where the past is concerned, the truth tends to get obscured rather quickly.

“Legends crop up within a matter of hours, tall tales circulate, and the facts are soon buried under a mountain of outlandish theories."

It’s not clear whether the epidemic was the primary cause of the Apocalypse or whether it was an after-effect.

Auster refers to the Apocalypse occasionally as a “collapse”, which suggests that it might have been just as much a social phenomenon, as a natural or even man-made disaster, though there is some sense of past destruction and imminent war.

He also mentions “the Troubles”, which were violent political disputes, although it’s unclear whether they preceded or followed the Apocalypse.

Whatever the physical cause of the Apocalypse, it’s clear that not only have many buildings collapsed, but the social order of the city has collapsed into barely-controlled anarchy.

Like the surviving inhabitants, readers have to piece together the clues, and even then it isn’t clear how reliable they are.

The City of Destruction

Auster does not name the city in the novel, although many consider it to be New York.

It contains a National Library, but I doubt whether it is intended to be Washington, because it seems to be a port, and we learn that there is nothing on the same continent east of it.

None of the street names are recognisable, although “Circus Street” might just be Broadway.

Even though Anna comes from a place that has been unaffected, she lacks knowledge about the continent that the city is on.

Again, she has to rely on what she has been told:

"This country is enormous, you understand, and there’s no telling where he might have gone. Beyond the agricultural zone to the west, there are supposedly several hundred miles of desert. Beyond that, however, one hears talk of more cities, of mountain ranges, of mines and factories, of vast territories stretching all the way to a second ocean."

Whether or not this is America, why doesn’t she seem to have greater knowledge of the continent? Has the knowledge of the rest of the world been affected as well?

Wide is the Gate and Broad is the Road

Some clues as to the scope and design of the novel can be found in the epigram:

"Not a great while ago, passing through the gate of dreams, I visited that region of earth in which lies the famous City of Destruction."

Nathaniel Hawthorne

This quotation comes from Hawthorne’s short story, “The Celestial Railroad”, which is an allegory about the people of a city who try to build a shortcut between their own city and Heaven, between “The City of Destruction” and “The Celestial City”.

Hawthorne based his story on John Bunyan’s “The Pilgrim’s Progress”, the full title of which is “The Pilgrim's Progress from This World to That Which Is to Come”.

Both works are concerned with the proper way to get to Heaven, which is itself described in the Bible:

"Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it."

Matthew 7:13-14

A Secular Pilgrim's Progress

The novel isn’t overtly Christian or religious (even though Anna describes herself as Jewish). However, there is an underlying morality at work.

Without any obvious clues, there’s a sense that the city was doing something "wrong", that it had started to step out too confidently and aggressively for its own good, that it deserved to decline and fall, and therefore that it had it coming to it.

Perhaps, it’s been punished for being immoral, greedy and inconsiderate, if not necessarily being irreligious.

In the wake of the Apocalypse, there’s a sense in which humanity has to reconstruct itself without the aid of institutional religion.

After her arrival, Anna is quickly reduced to the level of a local inhabitant.

She has to make her way back to virtue, happiness and fulfilment, and her letter describes a secular pilgrimage of sorts.

The Getting of Wisdom

Anna has to piece together every resource available to her, whether spiritual or worldly, to survive.

In the process, she gains some awareness, knowledge and wisdom, even if it could be taken away from her at any moment.

She starts by describing issues of subsistence, the hunger from which everyone suffers:

"You must get used to doing with as little as you can. By wanting less, you are content with less, and the less you need, the better off you are.

"That is what the city does to you. It turns your thoughts inside out. It makes you want to live, and at the same time it tries to take your life away from you."

Out of Order

Then she describes the social structures that have emerged to fill the void left by the Apocalypse: Runners, Leapers, Smilers, Crawlers, Dreamers, Fecalists, Resurrection Agents, Vultures, Tollists.

Where there is no longer any authority, there is now desperate tribalism, bare aggression and raw power.

Sickness prevails. Death is everywhere.

Even within the confines of the Library, many of the books have been stolen for fuel.

Those that remain have been scattered all over the floor.

They are "out of order" and therefore useless.

Like everybody else, Anna is left to her own devices. Or almost.

Populating the City

Having set the scene, Anna introduces the people she has allowed into her life in the city.

She makes friends and loses them, whether to death or fate or circumstance.

Still, the company of others gives her both love and hope, if only temporarily.

Every act of friendship is more valuable, given the circumstances in which it occurs.

At times, it seems that the novel is an allegory about the Holocaust, where even in the worst and most evil of conditions the beauty of humanity can still shine through.

Eventually, her band of accomplices resolves itself down to the comforting Sam Farr (who she had hoped would lead her to William), the charitable Victoria Woburn (who maintains a hospital in memory of her father) and the eccentric Boris Stepanovich.

A Persona of Indifference Becomes a Persona of Benevolence

Anna and Sam start a relationship, only to be parted, without knowing whether the other is alive.

Sam hibernates:

"I gave up trying to be anyone. The object of my life was to remove myself from my surroundings, to live in a place where nothing could hurt me anymore. One by one, I tried to abandon my attachments, to let go of all the things I ever cared about. The idea was to achieve indifference, an indifference so powerful and sublime that it would protect me from further assault. I said good-bye to you, Anna..."

Yet one day, he stumbles into Victoria’s hospital where Anna is now working.

Reunited at last, he takes on the role of doctor, and the patients start to trust him with their problems:

"It was like being a confessor, he said, and little by little he began to appreciate the good that comes when people are allowed to unburden themselves – the salutary effect of speaking words, of releasing words that tell the story of what happened to them."

So Sam transitions from non-attachment to engagement with life and, by doing so, he reinvigorates Anna as well.

An Escape Never Made?

At the end of the novel, Anna’s unlikely "bande a part" is poised to escape the city.

So Anna writes her letter in the days leading up to their departure.

We never know whether they succeeded or what happened to them subsequently.

A Collection of Last Things

While there might be a tragedy inherent in this story, it also says something about the role of story-telling and writing.

Life is ephemeral. It happens, and once it has happened, it moves into the past and ceases to be:

"These are the last things, she wrote. One by one they disappear and never come back...When you live in the city, you learn to take nothing for granted. Close your eyes for a moment, turn around to look at something else, and the thing that was before you is suddenly gone. Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you mustn’t waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it."

If thoughts can’t survive, then neither can memories.

Memories require a human to maintain and transmit them.

Absent people, the memories die, and the reality that once was is no more.

Just as people deny the Holocaust, once the memories cease, people start to forget or deny the underlying factuality.

A Recollection of Lasting Things

Still, Anna feels the compulsion to write, to preserve these memories, to create an amulet:

"I am not sure why I am writing to you now...But suddenly, after all this time, I feel there is something to say, and if I don’t quickly write it down, my head will burst. It doesn’t matter if you read it. It doesn’t even matter if I send it – assuming that could be done. Perhaps it comes down to this. I am writing to you because you know nothing. Because you are far away from me and know nothing."

Towards the end, Anna pictures her letter as “one last thing to remember me by”.

The notebook could end up as a thing sitting on a shelf above a bed, one last thing that might last.

Boris the Chameleon

Anna owes some of this change of approach to the flamboyant, charlatan-like Boris Stepanovich.

At first, she is captivated by, but sceptical about, his tale-telling and his constant metamorphosis:

"One by one, he took on the roles of clown and scoundrel and philosopher."

Unlike anyone else she has met, his character shifts:

"A man must live from moment to moment, and who cares what you were last month if you know who you are today?"

Yet Boris is a sentimentalist at heart, if a wily one.

Without words and memories, who would know what they are today anyway?

He says of a precious tea cup:

"The set has suffered the fate of the years…and yet, for all of that, a single remnant has survived, a final link to the past. Treat it gently, my friend. You are holding my memories in your hand."

Hats Off to Boris

Anna gets another clue from Boris' love of ornate hats:

”Boris explained that he liked to wear hats because they kept his thoughts from flying out of his head. If we both wore them while we drank our tea, then we were bound to have more intelligent and stimulating conversations.”

Equally, perhaps, society needs memories, to be truly civilized.

Civilisation is what separates us from mere subsistence, whether in a ghetto or a garret.

So, ultimately, Boris too revitalises Anna:

"We became dear friends, and I owe Boris a debt for his compassion, for the devious and persistent attack he launched on the strongholds of my sadness."

Likewise, Boris becomes the inspiration for the escape plan:

"Make plans. Consider the possibilities. Act."

Humanity must not just embrace contemplation, it must embrace action to survive.

Promise to Write

Anna promises to write to her friend when they get out of the city of destruction.

We never find out whether she got out safely, or survived, or posted her letter, or ever wrote again.

Hear Me Calling You

Still, we are lucky to have read her epistle of engagement and action and persistence and humanity.

She did not just call out into the blankness, or scream into a vast and terrible void.

She did not just create one of the last things that will disappear, she created something that will last.

She did not write in vain.

The "you" she was writing to has become the "we" who have read Paul Auster's novel.

It is we who have heard her call.

Ovo je za sada treća "ozbiljnija" knjiga o postapokaliptičnoj Zemlji koja me je ostavila bez teksta. Prvo me je oduševio "Put" Kormaka Makartija, a zatim "The Pesthouse" Džima Krejsa. Nisam sumnjao u Pola Ostera. On me je svojevremeno "kupio" "Njujorškom trilogijom", tako da sam sigurnim korakom ušetao u njegovu postapokalipsu, i iz nje izašao apsolutno zadovoljan ali i poprilično uznemiren...

Dok čitaju ovaj Osteov roman, čitaoci u stvari čitaju pismo glavnog lika, Ane Blum (da li je to možda antiteza Džojsovog Bluma), upućeno starom prijatelju iz detinjstva. Ona mu objašnjava kako i zašto je iz kakve-takve sigurnosti otišla na već nesigurno tlo da bi pronašla brata. Na bratovljevoj adresi više ne postoji ni zgrada, a ona u rukama čuva blago - sliku poslednje osobe koja je znala nešto o njemu, i ona kreće u potragu za bilo kojim od njih dvojice. Ana se upušta u to, žrtvujući sebe i usput učeći nove lekcije uvek na onaj teži način. Dok u svom pismu bude opisivala svoju borbu za opstanak, zaljubljivanje, borbu za goli život, gubitak voljene osobe,... opisivaće i svakodnevnu rutinu, ruine nekadašnjeg sveta, otpad koji ima ogromnu vrednost, život koji ima minimalnu vrednost, ali i nove klanove: trkače, skakače, grabljivice,... koji su slika novog čovečanstva.

Oster nam u ovom romanu ne daje direktan opis apokalipse. Njegov naglasak je na onome šta je usledilo, ali pre svega na ljudima. On opisuje zemlju nakon kolapsa, propast, ruine, prašinu, pepeo, ali njega najviše interesuju ljudske ruine. Kao i Makarti, pokušava da dokuči da li u opštem ludilu klica ljudskosti (humanizma) može da se razvije u nešto dobro i lepo, ili će ona biti zatomljena i uništena. Dakle, ono što je najbolje u ovom romanu jesu Osterovi likovi. Pošto je roman poprilično kratak, on nije dozvolio svim likovima da se podjednako razviju. Najdominantniji su glavni lik, Ana, i Boris Stepanovič (jedan od onih likova koji plivaju i u mutnim vodama).

Oster je zasigurno majstor svog zanata. Čini se kako je ovo svoje delo majstorski iskalibrirao, odsekao sve viškove, izbrusio sve neravnine, oduvao svu prašinu sa rečenica i uklonio talog... Iako ima otvoren kraj, roman je kompaktan, jezgrovit, i udara i u mozak i u srca čitalaca... Često se vratim ovom romanu u mislima i pitam hoćemo li i mi jednog dana završiti ovako... Ovo je jedna poprilično realna slika mogućeg kraja čovečanstva.

n  n

مراجعتي تجدونها على هذا الفيديو

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2g_Xu...


بالنسبة للقصيدة المذكورة في آخر الفيديو تجدونها على هذا الرابط


http://vimeo.com/46530945

وقتی کتاب رو از قفسه‌ی کتابفروشی برداشتم چیزی راجع‌بهش نمی‌دونستم و فکر نمی‌کردم انقدر فوق‌العاده باشه. داستان به‌طرز عجیبی ملموس و غمگین بود و سیر نشدم ازش. کتابی که فضاسازی و جمله‌هاش تو خاطرت می‌مونه و بعدها برمی‌گردی بهش.

In the Country of Last Things, Paul Auster

The novel takes the form of a letter from a young woman named Anna Blume.

Anna has ventured into an unnamed city that has collapsed into chaos and disorder.

In this environment, no industry takes place and most of the population collects garbage or scavenges for objects to resell.

Anna has entered the city to search for her brother William, a journalist, and it is suggested that the Blumes come from a world to the East which has not collapsed. ...


تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز نهم ماه جولای سال 2004میلادی

عنوان: ک‍ش‍ور آخ‍ری‍ن‌ه‍ا؛ نویسنده: پ‍ل‌ اس‍ت‍ر؛ مت‍رج‍م خ‍ج‍س‍ت‍ه‌ ک‍ی‍ه‍ان‌؛ تهران، افق، 1381؛ در 173ص؛ شابک 9643690156؛ چاپ دوم 1382؛ چاپ سوم 1384؛ چاپ چهارم 1386؛ چاپ پنجم 1388؛ چاپ ششم 1390؛ چاپ هفتم 1393؛ ویرایش دیگر 1395؛ در 229ص؛ شابک 9786003531222؛ چاپ دیگر 1398؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان ایالات متحده آمریکا - سده 20م

رمان «کشور آخرین‌ها» اثری از «پل استر» است؛ این رمان نخستین بار در سال 1986میلادی منتشر شد؛ زندگی دختر جوانی به نام «آنا بلوم» است که در جستجوی برادر گم شده ی خویش به شهری ناشناس سفر می‌کند شهری که منبع سوختش مدفوع و اجساد انسان‌هاست و پس از مدتی مأیوس از یافتن برادر، بی‌پول و بی خانمان در شهری مصیبت زده روزگار را سپری می‌کند؛ او برای فرار از بی خانمانی دعوت پیر زنی ناشناس را می‌پذیرد، ولی با شوهر شرور و متجاوز او روبرو می‌شود، و حلقه‌های مصیبت یکی پس از دیگری تکرار می‌شوند؛ خوانشگر با واقعیت‌ها و رویدادهائی روبرو می‌شود که پایانی ندارند، و خطی را ترسیم می‌کنند که به نقطه آغاز برمیگردد؛ شخصیت‌های این رمان آدمهائی هستند که همه چیز خود را از دست می‌دهند؛ در کشور آخرین‌ها فرایند ویرانی به همه چیز رنگ نیستی می‌زند و واکنش شخصیت‌ها در برابر شرایط طاقت فرسا کاملاً غیرعادی است

نقل از متن: (او نوشته بود بعضی‌ها آن قدر لاغر ‌می‌‌شوند، که گاهی وقت‌ها باد آنها را با خود ‌می‌‌برد؛ بادهای شهر وحشی و بی‌امانند؛ معمولا آدم‌های خیلی لاغر، دو سه نفری با هم حرکت ‌می‌‌کنند، و خود را با طناب و زنجیر به همدیگر ‌می‌‌بندند، تا بتوانند هنگام وزش باد ثابت بمانند؛ دیگران از بیرون رفتن صرف نظر ‌می‌‌کنند؛ در گوشه و کنار خانه چمباتمه ‌می‌‌زنند، و پایه‌ ی ‌میز، یا وسیله ی دیگری را ‌می‌‌چسبند؛ برای آنها حتی آسمان صاف هم، خالی از خطر نیست؛ فکر ‌می‌کنند بهتر است آرام در گوشه‌ ای بمانند، تا باد آنها را نبرد، و به سنگ‌ها نکوبد.؛

همچنین بعضی‌ها آنقدر به کم غذایی عادت ‌می‌کنند، که دست آخر اصلا نمی‌توانند چیزی بخورند؛ اما وضع آن‌هایی که با گرسنگی ‌می‌جنگند، از این هم بدتر است؛ فکر کردن زیاد به غذا، تنها مایه ی مزاحمت است؛ با وجود این، بعضی‌ها دچار وسواس اند، مدام غذا ‌می‌خواهند، و برای به دست آوردن کمترین مقدار غذا، بزرگترین ریسک‌ها را به جان ‌می‌خرند، اما هرچه بیابند برایشان کافی نیست؛ آن‌ها سیری ناپذیرند؛ مثل حیوانات غذا را با سرعت گاز ‌می‌زنند، و ‌می‌‌بلعند، با انگشت‌های استخوانیشان قطعه‌ ها را ‌می‌درند، و آرواره‌های لرزانشان، هرگز از حرکت باز نمی‌ماند؛ بیشتر غذا از چانه شان پایین ‌می‌ریزد، و آنچه را هم فرومی‌دهند، معمولا پس از چند دقیقه، استفراغ ‌می‌کنند؛ نوعی مرگ آرام است؛ گویی غذا آتش، یا یکجور دیوانگی‌ست، که آن‌ها را از درون ‌می‌سوزاند؛ فکر ‌می‌کنند برای زنده ماندن است، که غذا ‌می‌خورند، ولی دست آخر خودشان هستند، که خورده ‌می‌شوند)؛ پایان نقل

تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 18/04/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی