رجلا كنت ام إمرأة فلتتحفظ قليلا مع الغرباء
اوصي بهذه الرواية لكل من ينوى السفر
افتكر اني قلت لك:بلاش..بلاش تسافر بسبب الملل لأن:الملل هو مصدر كل الخطايا القاتلة
و لا اوصي بالرواية لكل مقدم على الزواج
فهي تنفرك من الحميمية بكل مستوياتها

حيرتني كثيرا تناقضات هذه الرواية ؛فدقة السرد و انسيابه و التفاصيل و التدفق البشري التلقائي للمشاعر :مبهر..اما الاخطاء اللا المنطقية في حبكة نصف الروايةالثاني: مفجعة



ماري و كولين ثنائي بريطاني ينطلق الي بلد اوروبي مجهول لقضاء اجازة تاركين أبناء ماري خلفهما ..
يعاني الثنائي من مشاكل ملل و خلل في درجة حميمية علاقاتهما مثل اي رجل و إمرأة قضيا سبع سنوات سويا. .و في رمزية لفقدان بوصلة علاقتهما يتوهان في البلد باستمرار
و هكذا يلتقيان بروبرت غريب مريب يبوح لهما فى اول لقاء بما لا يقال الا بعد سنوات من المعرفة و تحتار هل تلتفت لوصف ايان البارع لمشاعر المسافران ؛ام ان تصدم من مستوى البوح الذي احتوى على قيء و اسهال و إساءات بالغة لاطفال

..لتتطور بعدها الاحداث عبر ايام قليلة و المؤكد انهما لم يرتاحا للغريب بقدر ما كان ودودا و لكنهما ارتاحا لبعضهما بعدها


ابشع انواع الملل هو ان تمل من نفسك
لكن هذه الرواية الانسانية خالية من الملل تماما و ان كانت في بعض اجزاءها للكبار فقط +21..البداية ثقيلة و الترجمة رشيقة و لكنها مليئة بالاخطاء في الاسماء على قلتها؛ و تعودالرواية لعام 1981 و تم إنتاجها في فيلم اخرجه كاتب نوبل :هارولد بنتر عام 1990 بفينيسيا ولا اتذكر انني شاهدته لكنى شاهدت الاف من الافلام في هذه الحقبة

و اخيرا فلنتذكر دوما
ان كل شيء له فرصة ثانية الا : الثقة

"'I woke up and realized something.. If I'd realized it in the daytime I wouldn't have been so frightened by it.'"

Halfway through this book, I spoiled the ending for myself and then almost gave up on it. It was only because I realized that the "strangers" of the title, Robert and Caroline, reminded me of the baroque doms and subs of The Bloody Chamber, and that that book had been published two years before this one and was certainly a waking hours influence on McEwan that I eventually continued.

I, in the end, read this book more as an allegory about self-destructive and self-annihilating behavior of any kind, rather than an articulate or coherent thesis about the relationship between sex and violence.

When we meet Colin and Mary, a "very ordinary" English couple, they are rudderless. They are on vacation together in Venice (his choice, as Mary is quick to remind him when things turn especially dull), and have quickly come to despise each other. After three days in this romantic location, everything—the beautiful landmarks, the crowded streets and restaurants, the sex, naps, maid service, and joints on the balcony, her yoga—is routine and bland.

They end up falling madly in love with each other again, although the price, as this is a McEwan novel, is steeper than any sane person would knowingly pay.

Colin and Mary don't know the price of their few days of passion and happiness, or at least the combination of a somewhat pathological restlessness, the disorientation from being abroad, and just some deep-seated denial that anything truly horrible could really happen combine in them to form a kind of innocence about it.

The subtle shifting in their relationship throughout the book is documented with enviable precision by McEwan. The book has many truly beautiful moments, and some of the stuff of greatness. (Sorry for the back-handed compliment!)

I did think that Caroline's character did not quite gel together. It was difficult, even at the end, to tell if certain inconsistencies in her stories and behavior were the result of some deliberate ambiguity on McEwan's part or just poor writing.

نجيبها منين ولا منين

من المؤلف اللي مقضيها حشو ولا من المترجم اللي ضيع عباس بدباس

ولا من القصة يلي خبصت المغزى العام بالسادية

"Δεν ήταν πια ένα μεγάλο πάθος. Οι χαρές τους βρίσκονταν στην αβίαστη συντροφικότητα, την οικειότητα των συνηθειών και των τρόπων, το σίγουρο, ακριβές ταίριαγμα μελών κ σωμάτων, τόσο άνετο, όσο η εφαρμογή ενός εκμαγείου στο καλούπι του. Ήταν γενναιόδωροι κ νωχελικοί, δεν ζητούσαν ιδιαίτερα πράγματα κ έκαναν πολύ λίγο θόρυβο. Έκαναν έρωτα χωρίς ξεκάθαρη αρχή ή τέλος, που συχνά κατέληγε ή διακοπτόταν απ'τον ύπνο. Ήταν έτοιμοι να αρνηθούν με αγανάκτηση πως έπλητταν".

Η υπέροχη παράγραφος παραπάνω περιγράφει ότι χρειάζεται να ξέρει κανείς για την Μαίρη κ τον Κόλιν, το ζευγάρι που πρωταγωνιστεί σε αυτό το ιδιαίτερα ατμοσφαιρικό βιβλίο του McEwan. Οι δύο τους παραθερίζουν σε έναν ειδυλλιακό τόπο (ο οποίος δεν κατανομάζεται ποτέ, άσχετα αν ο εκδότης/μεταφραστής επέλεξε να βάλει στον τίτλο την τοποθεσία όπου προφανώς διαδραματίζεται το βιβλίο) περνώντας τις μέρες τους νωχελικά. Πολλές ώρες στο κρεββάτι, μετά στο μπαλκόνι κ το βράδυ μια βόλτα αναζήτησης ενός ωραίου εστιατορίου. Σε μια τέτοια βόλτα θα συναντήσουν τον Ρόμπερτ έναν περίεργο τύπο που θα τους πάει σε ένα μπαρ, όπου θα τους διηγηθεί πως γνώρισε τη γυναίκα του.

Το βιβλίο έχει μια επιβλητική ατμόσφαιρα με έναν ιδιαίτερο τρόμο που φαίνεται να κρύβεται πίσω από κάθε κίνηση του Ρόμπερτ. Ο McEwan είναι χωρίς αμφιβολία ένας εξαιρετικά ταλαντούχος συγγραφέας που μέσα σε ελάχιστες σελίδες τραβάει μέσα σε αυτή την κατά κάποιο τρόπο άρρωστη ιστορία τον αναγνώστη. Θα μπορούσα να πω πως οι Ξένοι στη Βενετία μοιάζουν με αποπαίδι του Bataille με τον Murakami (όχι του Χαρούκι, του άλλου) αλλά δεν είμαι σίγουρος ότι αυτό δεν συμβαίνει μόνο στο μυαλό μου.

Αυτό εδώ ήταν μόλις το δεύτερο βιβλίο του McEwan που διαβάζω (έχω ένα κακό αναγνωστικό κουσούρι, αν το πρώτο βιβλίο που διαβάζω από κάποιο συγγραφέα με ενθουσιάσει καθυστερώ πάρα πολύ να πιάσω το επόμενο. Δεν ξέρω γιατί, το έχω κάνει με πολλούς π.χ. Ισιγκούρο, Σαραμάγκου, Ντελίλο). Ήταν ταυτόχρονα τελείως διαφορετικό απ'το Στην Ακτή κ παρόμοιο θεματικά. Μου αρέσει πως διαχειρίζεται τις εμμονές του ο McEwan κ μέσα στο '18 ευελπιστώ να πιάσω κ τα υπόλοιπα βιβλία του, για αρχή τα πρώτα που κυκλοφόρησε μιας κ τα έχω ήδη στη βιβλιοθήκη

3.5*

This one is classic McEwan. You have to hate yourself and the world a little in order to like McEwan. He's so dark and twisted that no normal person can really enjoy his writing. You can't expect anything emotionally satisfying, or even anything even remotely pleasant from his books. It's just hard, creepy, nauseating, guilt-ridden, etc.

This one is certainly no exception. A couple, Mary and Colin, are visiting Venice. Mary has two children, a boy and a girl, with her ex-husband. Mary and Colin have been together for 7 years, but are unmarried and don't live together. However, they nonetheless have merged identities. They find it difficult to determine one leaves off and the other begins. But there's very little passion in their relationship. It's more like a friendship. They hang out, smoke weed, drink wine, have sex. But they aren't really "in love." They have to constantly remind one another "we're on holiday," as if they would otherwise forget. They're rather dull with each other, don't speak often to each other, and nothing of substance.

They stumble across a very odd man, Robert, one day. He's... extremely interested in them. They get drunk together, and later on he takes them home and introduces them to his wife, Caroline, who has difficulty walking due to what appears to be a spinal problem (she's very evasive when asked about it). While Mary and Colin are quite an ordinary couple, Robert and Caroline are...not. Though they do certainly have more passion than Mary and Colin do. Both are extremely invested in the idea of men's hierarchy over women. (For Mary, a staunch feminist, this is quite peculiar). R & C mention they plan on going for a long trip soon.

After meeting Robert and Caroline, Mary and Colin start to enjoy their holiday. They begin to feel passion for each other, the way they did at the beginning 7 years ago. Is this some strange result of meeting Robert and Caroline?

This is where it gets weird.  Mary and Colin are sleeping when suddenly Mary wakes up suddenly very frightened. She realizes she saw a picture of Colin in Robert and Caroline's living room. They're both appropriately creeped out, though not as much as they should be.

They see Robert and Caroline again- why? I have no idea. Robert and Colin go off drinking together, and Mary and Caroline have tea. Caroline "spills the tea" about her back injury.

Robert and Caroline have an intense sadomasochistic relationship. INTENSE. When they have sex, Robert would hurt her quite badly, and Caroline enjoyed it. "Perhaps you find that hard to understand. It's not the pain itself, it's the fact of the pain, of being helpless before it, and being reduced to nothing by it. It's pain in a particular context, being punished and therefore being guilty. We both liked what was happening. I was ashamed of myself, and before I knew it, my shame too was a source of pleasure. I needed it."

It escalates. Caroline is bruised, beaten, cut. Caroline tells Mary that Robert confessed that "there was only one thing he really wanted. He wanted to kill me, as we made love. He was absolutely serious. I remember the next day we went to a restaurant and tried to laugh it off. But the idea kept coming back. Because of that possibility hanging over us, we made love like never before."

One night Robert pulled her neck back while pushing into the small of her back. Caroline blacks out and her back is broken. After that, they were shaken up by what happened. They stop for a bit.

At this point, Caroline takes Mary into their bedroom, which is covered in photographs of Colin. (Never a good sign, is it?) At this point, Mary is feeling pretty weird. Surprise, surprise, Caroline had drugged her tea. Caroline lets her know that she and Robert have been channeling their S&M fantasies outside of each other, that they've been fantasizing about killing someone and they both think Colin is just so pretty.

Colin and Robert come home. Colin sees Mary is being weird and can't string words together. He gets worried, tries to take her and leave. Robert's having none of this. Takes out a razor blade and slits Colin's wrists. Mary is paralyzed from the drugs and has to watch him die. She tries to go to him but can't move or speak. Caroline and Robert flee.

The novel ends with Mary telling the police what happened, identifying Colin's body, and preparing to return home to her children. The Italian police inform her that this type of crime is "wearingly common" there.

This is by far McEwan’s darkest book and he sets the mood perfectly. Mary and Colin are on holiday, experiencing some unexplained dissatisfaction with each other until a seemingly random encounter with Robert. Robert introduces the couple to his wife Caroline, and right away it is obvious something more sinister is at play. McEwan has written about the impact of strangers once in “Enduring Love,” but Robert and Caroline are more calculating than the obsessive Jed. The conclusion is more shocking then “The Cement Garden.” Robert and Caroline’s exploitation of Mary and Colin reminded me a bit of “Beast” by Joyce Carol Oates, another novella dealing with similar themes. To go even further, when picturing Robert and Caroline, I almost visualized Minnie and Roman, the deceptive neighbors from “Rosemary’s Baby.” That may be a little extreme, but there’s still some depravity there that is quite unnerving. McEwan’s writing is so atmospheric, but it’s what he doesn’t clearly portray to the reader that gives it the extra sense of tension that drives this book.

Sono qui, seduta sul divano. Guardo il telefono e cerco di ricompormi per parlare di “Cortesie per gli ospiti”, che mi ha lasciata completamente disfatta.
Dopo un inizio burrascoso con “Espiazione”, ero sicura che non avrei mai più dato possibilità a McEwan. Ma poi qualche mese fa ho letto “Solar” e ho cambiato del tutto opinione.
Mi aspettavo da questo libro la stessa meschinità nei personaggi, lo stesso protagonista piccino picciò, e gli stessi inganni e artifici motivati dall’egoismo. E invece.
“Cortesie per gli ospiti” è un crescendo di oppressione, un gioco di specchi e di rimandi testuali. McEwan gioca con la sua coppia di protagonisti, li sottopone a esperienze ripetute, il romanzo è costruito come un’indicazione continua del suo motivo portante, ma questo non allieva la sensazione di angoscia che s’insinua sempre di più e cerca un sollievo impossibile da raggiungere.
Sono qui, sul mio divano, con un po’ di tristezza e un senso di angoscia, e cerco le parole per parlare di questo libro. E credo che questo sia il segnale più evidente e promettente che io possa offrire sulla qualità di questo libro.

Part of what drives this stark, disturbing novella about sexual violence, complex intimacy and the proximity of Eros to Thanatos is its stark prose. These brief, clean, unadorned sentences seem to intensify the suspense early on, as Colin and Mary initially wander into the Venetian labyrinth, though this same spareness can seem somehow to work against it later, when the couple have met the labyrinth’s Minotaur, Robert, and the text begins its probe into moral problematics and a bit too much starts to fall into the empty intellectual spaces opened up by the narration. On the whole, though, brevity and economy ultimately save this rather chilling short narrative, just as they do its similarly evocative spiritual cousins, Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice and Daphne du Maurier’s Don’t Look Now. Fans of those (or even just of their excellent film adaptations) will find this familiar but still intellectually nourishing and entertainingly troubling thematic ground.

I would like to wipe the memory of reading this from my mind immediately.

"The Comfort of Strangers" is the unfortunate combination of two of McEwan's worst books (which were published decades later, obviously): "Saturday" & "On Chesil Beach." It has that PVoAA (Powerful Voice of Authentic Authority), or that I've-published-stuff-now-I-will-see-places-with-the-eyes-of-a-wealthy-man tone. Ya know, the rich who think they're above even common violence (made, obviously, more "horrific" by their occurrence to a man of abundant means, gag). It also has that cringe-worthy vanillaness, exemplified rather well in "On Chesil Beach." There are also two lovers in this one; &, like on "Chesil Beach", you couldn't give a rat's ass about either one of 'em.

McEwan's description, impeccable obviously, quickly becomes a banal thing (and before you pooh-pooh it, think also that at a scant 127 pages, the dude shoulda, minimal, CAPTIVATED us). It's as if McEwan lost track of his plot (we get, we get it: the randomness of events that occur to the average [and I must emphasize AVERAGE] tourist, means basically a looser script, a venture toward a certain plotlessness...) and lashing out in strong but overdoingit strokes, his belting-out of description description DESCRIPTION establishes an ambiance that hinders the main characters themselves. Our dislike is a quick but lasting thing. (Like, imagine for a sec. that Virgil was a dullard in the "Inferno"-- Dante's enterprise would've collapsed! There are certain entities that take our hands to take us places, and I believe it is intolerable to make them dunces, dullards, or pure-Fillers.)

Like, who cares? shall be the overwhelming and haunted thought reoccuring in your brain throughout as you try to figure out why this book is anywhere near the Great Works at all. (Is it? It's on the 1001 list, so yes.) Overwhelming, I guess, in the sense that apathy is overwhelmingly sad, futile, and UN-ARTISTIC.

With "The Comfort of Strangers" we begin to form the ugly side of the poetics of this gifted British author. When his books are interested in things, the narrative becomes vile; when there is no interest for Emotion or Depths in said objects (hell, even the vase in "Atonement" is a murky symbol of past bourgeoisie lifestyles colliding/breaking with the harsh pullings of war... but it remains a murkyish symbol nonetheless) the quality of novel really does suffer.

"Comfort" is all about the brutal nature of strangeness-- yes, people: bad stuff happens. Even if you do have the privilege of traveling throughout European cities and dark avenues for an entire month... even then, bad stuff can happen to you.

Le apparenze ingannano

I due personaggi principali, Colin e Mary, sono in vacanza in una città d'arte imprecisata, piena di canali e monumenti. Intelligenti ma viziati, parlano poco, si amano con parecchia moderazione e senza passione (anche se non sono sposati), giracchiano qua e là, si mescolano poco con i turisti e con la gente. Il ritmo del romanzo è lento, il caldo asfissiante, la vacanza noiosa, i dialoghi risicati e banali, i silenzi dilatati, l'impressione generale è di una certa fiacchezza della narrazione. Che decolla invece repentinamente quando i due incontrano prima Robert e poi la moglie Caroline, due  strani personaggi ottimamente descritti da McEwan, che prima ravvivano la loro vacanza e quindi la sconvolgono trasformandola in un terribile incubo.

Colin, impacciato e troppo spesso inadeguato alle situazioni che subisce invece di affrontarle e Mary, incapace di interpretare i fatti e vittima di equivoci, non riescono a comprendere cosa stia loro succedendo.

Di che cortesie parla McEwan nel romanzo? Di quelle cortesie che le persone offrono in modo subdolo, indiretto, sfruttando l'adulazione e la lusinga. Quelle cortesie invadenti e ingannevoli, che nascondono velatamente l'obbligo successivo a sottostare alla volontà di chi ospita. Di quelle cortesie che magari si trasformano in perversità e malvagità.

McEwan scrive molto bene, con uno stile lineare, lento e dettagliato; in questo caso poi la lentezza della sua prosa induce un senso di attesa, di angoscia, di oppressione, che aumenta l'intensità del crollo finale, che non lascia scampo.

Quale è il messaggio che voleva trasmettere McEwan con questo libro? Che le apparenze ingannano? Che è meglio evitare di fare amicizia con gli sconosciuti? Che anche col sesso si può esagerare? Non so, ma ognuno di questi messaggi mi sembra fiacco e debole e non tale da giustificare la violenza finale.

Bravo McEwan a selezionare temi sempre nuovi e interessanti e a trattarli un modo analitico e preciso. Meno bravo per me nello svolgimento, a volte poco concludente o coerente, come in questo caso

Şimdi, ince bir kitapta spoiler vermeden ne yazacağım bilemiyorum. Colin ve Mary tatile çıkıyorlar, yeni yer keşfediyorlar, keyifliler. Sonra bir çiftle tanışıyorlar ve işin rengi değişiyor. Ne olacak diye beklemeye başlıyorsunuz. Adım adım tahmin ettiğim son gelecek mi diye bekliyorsunuz.
McEwan okumaya, onun karanlık anlatımına alışkınım aslında. Bu kitapta beklentim mi farklıydı bilmiyorum, hoşuma gitti.

"Aslında ona acıyan olsaydı dayanamaz yıkılırdı. Böylece içinde bulunduğu şok durumu sürmüş, duyguları ondan uzaklarda bir yere gitmişti."