Perez-reverte vedome pracuje so žánrovým klišé a priebežne odkazuje na Dumasove slávne romány. Miestami je príbeh tak zložitý, že ho rozprávač musí podrobne vysvetľovať a celkovo sa kniha príliš neodtŕha od žánrovosti - ALE fajn! Som rád, že som sa k nej konečne dostal, s dostatočným odstupom od zhliadnutia Polanského filmovej verzie. Zaujímavé je, že som si hlavného hrdinu ani nepredstavoval ako Deppa, dal som mu akúsi vlastnú podobu.

Cuando hay literatura por medio el lector inteligente puede disfrutar hasta con la estrategia que lo convierte en víctima. Y soy de los que creen que la diversión es un móvil excelente para jugar. También para leer una historia o escribirla.

"...when it comes to books, conventional morality doesn't exist."

The Club Dumas is ostensibly a mystery, but the real mystery here is the depth of our obsession with books, not just for what is contained therein, but also for their physical selves: the luxurious vellum or shagreen bindings, the fading gilt letters on their spines, the linen papers that would stay fresh for three hundred years, the rare first editions and complete serials that cost a small fortune. And what is written inside can change our lives, influences our perception of reality and even drives us mad with forbidden knowledge.

The other mystery inherent in all narratives is the narrator. How faithful is he to the reality of his subject? How much embellishment does he add to the bare bones of the story? Is he telling us the unvarnished truth or instead coddles us with beautiful lies? Did Borja ever meet the devil? Who really killed Enrique Taillefer? Was the girl who called herself Irene Adler really the devil incarnate? How reliable is Boris Balkan, the 'nearly omniscient' narrator?

A page-turner of a mystery with some loose ends. The conclusion is either briliant or a cop-out, depending on your taste.

didn't like it at all!

“Escuche, Corso: ya no hay lectores inocentes. Ante un texto, cada uno aplica su propia perversidad. Un lector es lo que antes ha leído, más el cine y la televisión que ha visto. A la información que le proporcione el autor, siempre añadirá la suya propia. Y ahí está el peligro”.

Primer novela de Pérez Reverte que leo, me ha gustado mucho la combinación: libros malditos, un protagonista solitario, muchas referencias a autores, amor por los libros, asesinatos y un misterio (o dos)por resolver.

Rar mi-a mai fost dat să citesc un roman atât de dens, plin de amănunte şi întâmplări anecdotice legate de Dumas ori alţi autori de romane populare (romanele de aventuri, capă şi spadă şi nu numai, apărute în secolul al XIX-lea în foileton), înţesat de date despre persoanele reale aflate la originea unor celebre personaje literare, citate, informaţii din sfera bibliofiliei, cu termenii de rigoare (in-folio, signaturi, intonsus, elzevire, colontitlu etc.), îmbogăţit cu reproduceri după gravuri medievale şi ilustraţii din amintitele romane, fiecare având rolul ei în firul narativ.

Eroul, Lucas Corso, „un vagabond erudit şi urban care îşi duce toată bocceluţa cu catrafuse în căptuşeala pardesiului”, un mercenar al bibliofiliei, un vânător de cărţi rare, e un amestec de Marlowe şi Robert Langdon, eroul lui Dan Brown. Iar când spun Marlowe mă refer de fapt la toţi detectivii de modă veche, duri, cinici, hârşâiţi, lupi singuratici fără trecut şi fără legături emoţionale. Chiar dacă el e cameleonic şi cel mai adesea arată ca un tip stângaci, timid, amabil, zăpăcit asemenea unui profesor distrat-probabil din cauza ochelarilor-cu surâsuri strâmbe şi jumătăţi de zâmbet care îl transformă într-un căţeluş inofensiv pe care toată lumea îl simpatizează pe loc şi vrea să-l adopte.

Clienţii lui, bogaţi şi excentrici, „aristocraţi ai incunabilului”, „şacali ai lui Gutenberg, peşti piranha ai târgurilor de cărţi, lipitori ai licitaţiilor”, sunt bibliofili, adeseori „bibliopaţi”, obsedaţi de câte un titlu obscur şi rarisim, „capabili să-şi vândă mama pentru o ediţie princeps” şi uneori chiar să ucidă; printre ei, Varo Borja, cel mai important librar din Spania, un specialist recunoscut în demonologie, cu o fixaţie nesănătoasă pentru o carte blestemată, De Umbrarum Regni Novem Portis, Cele Nouă Porţi ale Împărăţiei Întunericului, sub titlul acesta atractiv ca de roman fantasy ascunzându-se de fapt un manual de invocare a Diavolului. Tipograful care a avut curajul s-o tipărească în 1666, Aristide Torchia, a plătit cu viaţa această îndrăzneală, fiind ars pe rug de Inchiziţie.

Deşi deţine această carte, librarul are nevoie de Corso pentru a determina care dintre cele trei exemplare existente în lume este originalul, din actele procesului lui Torchia cunoscându-se faptul că doar unul singur supravieţuise furiei Bisericii Catolice.

„-Verifică. Investighează Cele Nouă Porţi ca pe o crimă. Caută urme, compară fiecare pagină, fiece ilustraţie, hârtia, legătura…Mergi înapoi către izvoare, ca să afli originea exemplarului meu. Apoi, la Sintra şi Paris, procedează la fel cu celelalte două.”

O altă misiune vine din partea unui amic librar-Lucas nu prea are prieteni, doar „aliaţi necondiţionaţi”-Flavio La Ponte, care, în împrejurări destul de ciudate, a primit un capitol din manuscrisul original al Celor trei muschetari, Vinul de Anjou. Corso trebuie să verifice autenticitatea acestuia dar, surprinzător, la un moment dat, are impresia că cele două probleme sunt legate între ele, interconectate asemenea unor piese dintr-un puzzle uriaş cu implicaţii greu de evaluat la prima vedere.

În pelerinajul acesta prin Portugalia, Franţa şi Spania, Corso are parte de un aliat neaşteptat, o tânără misterioasă, graţioasă ca un efeb, aparent fragilă, de-o frumuseţe neobişnuită, care îşi spune Irene Adler.

„-Mă tem de caii de lemn, de ginul ieftin şi de fetele frumoase. Mai ales dacă vin cu daruri. Şi dacă folosesc numele femeii care l-a învins pe Sherlock Holmes.”

Toată povestea devine şi mai stranie când îşi dă seama că este urmărit de un tip care seamănă frapant cu Rochefort, duşmanul muschetarilor; culmea ironiei, omul cu cicatrice fumează trabucuri Monte Cristo! Paralelismele evidente între acţiunea cărţii lui Dumas şi ceea ce i se întâmplă devin stresante, în plus, celelalte două exemplare ale cărţii interzise sunt distruse iar proprietarii lor ucişi la scurtă vreme după ce vorbise cu ei, ficţiunea şi realitatea par să-şi încalce teritoriile iar Corso începe să se îndoiască de calitatea sa de persoană reală, întrebându-se dacă nu cumva e doar un personaj pe care Autorul îl pune în situaţii incredibile, într-un scenariu de necrezut, pe care niciun poliţist care se respectă nu l-ar lua în serios.

„-De ce nu mergem la poliţie?
-Ca să le spun ce?…Că Milady şi Rochefort, agenţii cardinalului Richelieu, ne-au furat un capitol din Cei trei muschetari şi o carte pentru invocarea lui Lucifer? Că diavolul s-a îndrăgostit de mine, întrupându-se într-o fată de douăzeci de ani care mi-a devenit bodyguard?…Zi-mi ce-ai face dac-ai fi comisarul Maigret şi eu ţi-aş veni cu pătărania asta?
-Te-aş pune să sufli într-un alcoolmetru, presupun.”

Nu cred c-am mai zăbovit atât la o carte de dimensiunea asta, a trebuit să fac pauze dese pentru a digera şi asimila avalanşa de informaţii, pentru a evalua implicaţiile conexiunilor incredibile, pentru a elabora teorii ale conspiraţiei. Mi s-a părut fascinantă încă de la început, are ceva din Numele trandafirului dar şi din Codul lui DaVinci, iar călătoria aceasta prin culisele literaturii e cu atât mai interesantă cu cât fiecare capitol are drept motto un citat sugestiv din romanele de aventuri care mi-au încântat adolescenţa-Cei trei muschetari, Contele de Monte Cristo, Vicontele de Bragelonne, Misterele Parisului, Cavalerii Pardaillan, Cocoşatul, Arsène Lupin, Rocambole, Fantomâs, Crimele din Rue Morgue, Scaramouche-romane populare cărora Arturo Pérez-Reverte le aduce astfel un omagiu.

Dacă m-aş lăsa dusă de val, aş putea cita aproape 40% din carte, atât de interesante mi s-au părut dialogurile, descrierile, deducţiile şi reflecţiile eroului ori credo-urile celor câţiva împătimiţi ai cărţilor întâlniţi pe drum dar probabil v-aş agasa cumplit iar recenzia asta deja a devenit prea lungă şi prea alambicată. Concluzia (una dintre ele)? Cărţile „sunt oglinzi după chipul şi asemănarea celor ce le-au scris. Reflectă preocupări, mistere, vieţi, morţi…” Uneori trebuie să păstrezi distanţa şi să nu te laşi absorbit în lumea lor, dincolo s-ar putea să fie ceva mai periculos decât Iepurele de Martie…

https://jurnal365.ro/recenzia-de-vine...

I would be very interested in reading another work by this author, because his writing is remarkable. I feel, however, that it is not used to its potential sometimes. For example, on page 263, a sexual scene is described, but the extreme use of figurative language, especially the references in the similes and/or metaphors, are completely out of place with the tone of the rest of the chapter; the rest of the novel, actually. "Like the Titanic. Straight to the bottom", "Wellington... in a remote Belgian village...", "The Old Guard, or what remained of it, was glancing desperately", "... Chasing Prussians miles from the battlefield." Yes, Perez-Reverte is referring to Corso's penis and him becoming flaccid. Sometimes it works, but in scenes like this, it is awkwardly obvious that he is trying too hard. To utilize as many literary, historical, intelligent-seeming references as possible. To seem erudite. I say, to be pretentious.

So when does it work? In many of his descriptions of individuals, from the physical traits to personality mannerisms, Perez-Reverte has a proficiency with using the right words. He often takes a page to introduce a character, but, amazingly, it never seems too long. A difficult thing to achieve. It is a rare occasion that I feel I know the character so well by the end of a story, let alone after the introductions.

Literary references. Obviously, Alexandre Dumas is the most prevalent. Perez-Reverte dedicates two pages (87-88) to listing all of Dumas's novels. The entire series of events resembles exact scenes in The Three Musketeers; characters such as Athos Porthos, Aramis, D'Artagnan, Milady de Winter, Cardinal Richelieu, The Marquis (The Chevalier de la Maison Rouge) are featured. Even from Dumas's real life, like collaborator Auguste Maquet. The prologue, the very first murder, is in regards to Dumas's serial story, "The Anjou Wine". The protagonist is unraveling the mystery behind The Nine Doors. In short, there are three copies in three different collections in the world. Lucas Corso is hired by one of the owners, Varo Borja, to compare these copies. He is confident that his is a forgery. Corso is also told to acquire the other two, by "whatever means necessary".

The differences are all in the engravings and the printer's marks. The title page and nine engravings and/or illustrations are actually included for the reader's visual references, along with diagrams Lucas Corso drew to aid his investigations, and a few illustrations directly from The Three Musketeers.

As if all this is not enough, classic films from Casablanca to Goldfinger to Roman Holiday are also somehow given appearances. Now, I am the first to love a reference to other titles, be it authors,

films, historical figures, etcetera, but it has to actually work with the story. Not forced.
I always love when adult titles feature relevant illustrations. Other things are mentioned to make this a classic book lover's paradise, from woodcuttings to first editions to typesets. Definitely a noir, dark feel; black magic, numerous mentions of angels, fallen angels, Lucifer, Faust, The Brothers Karamozov, Dante. Latin manuscripts, tarot cards, philosophers, The Middle Ages, labyrinths. His "guardian angel" has the alias Irene Adler from Sherlock Holmes. She lives on Baker Street, of course. He met his close friend Flavio La Ponte through their mutual affinity for Melville (The Brotherhood of Nantucket Harpooners). My personal favorite is Corso's old lover, named Nikon. A photographer, of course. So, my point? There are many references. Too many. Some may find it the right number, maybe even not enough. Maybe I would agree, was I acquainted with all of the titles. Unfortunately, my favorite Dumas title is The Count of Monte Cristo (sparingly mentioned), I have not read many of these other classics (not my choice genre), and noir/gothic/mythology is not my forte. It thus seemed quite excessive, as if Perez-Reverte was trying to put everything he possibly could, provide cameo opportunities for all the things he loved, in this one novel. Including the typical, cliche detective story template.

As for the thread of our novel regarding The Ninth Door, I honestly could not care less. For most of the story, Corso erroneously saw them as indubitably connected. But I never wanted them to be. The occult, black magic, gothic, religious material was trivial at best. I felt Perez-Reverte should have chosen one path there. (I recommend Susanna Clarke for an illuminating black magic/gothic novel done right). Again, more is not always better....

As for the ending, although I can see why it was unsatisfactory for some, I felt it was creative enough. At least I admired the idea for The Club Dumas. Yes, as Balkan notes in the text, it is a dream. A dream come true. That would be highly unlikely in reality. Although, maybe not? Maybe I am not elite enough to receive such an invite to such an exclusive literary circle. Maybe I have, but, alas, would be unable to; am unable to reveal my membership? Would you believe me? The annual gathering of such prominent individuals, representing our childhoods; before me all became cynical. Giving in to the unadulterated love of adventure, reading, drama, stories. Innocence. How I wish to return to such times. Being adults is overrated. In my opinion, there are few such noble causes.

In all, an informative, suspenseful, enlightening read at best, but pretentious, unoriginal, and excessive at its worse. I wanted more from what I could see was great writing. More originality. More creativity. Less cliche. Less focus on referencing other stories. More of his story. The story I am confident his writing has the potential for. But lovers of classic Alexandre Dumas, especially The Three Musketeers, may be far more forgiving.

I wanted to love this book, since I'm a big fan of Dumas and the author of this book is very talented, but I couldn't, didn't like the end and the characters.

"My name is Boris Balkan and I once translated The Charterhouse of Parma. Apart from that, I've edited a few books on the nineteenth-century popular novel, my reviews and articles appear in supplements and journals throughout Europe, and I organize summer-school courses on contemporary writers. Nothing spectacular, I'm afraid" (5).

"Some time later, when it was all over, Corso agreed to tell me the rest of the story. So I can now give a fairly accurate picture of a chain of events that I didn't witness, events that led tot he fatal denouement and the solution to the mystery surrounding the Club Dumas. Thanks to what Corso told me I can now tell you, like Doctor Watson, that the following scene took place in Makarova's bar an hour after our meeting..." (17).

"This is the point at which I enter the stage for the second time. Corso came to me again, and he did so, i seem to remember, a few days before leaving for Portugal. As he told me later, by then he already suspected that the Dumas manuscript and Varo Borja's Nine Doors were only the tip of the iceberg. To understand it all he first needed to locate the other stories, all knotted together like the tie Enrique Taillefer used to hang himself. It wouldn't be easy, I told him, because in literature there are never any clear boundaries. Everything is dependent on everything else, and one thing is superimposed on top of another" (95).

"This may all appear rather confused, but we must remember that this was how it seemed to Corso at the time. And although I am narrating the story after the resolution of its momentous events, the very nature of the loop--think of Escher's paintings or the work of that old trickster, Bach--forces us tor return continually to the beginning and limit ourselves to the confines of Corso's knowledge. The rule is to know and keep silent. Even if there is no foul play, without the rule there is no game" (102).

"I now move once more into the background, as the near-omniscient narrator of Lucas Corso's adventures. In this way, with the information Corso later confided to me, the tragic events that followed can be put into some sort of order. So we come to the moment when, returning home, he sees that the concierge has just swept the hallway and is about to leave" (107).

"Bad times, he said to himself again. Absurd times. After so many books, films, and TV shows, after reading on so many different possible levels, it was difficult to tell if you were seeing the original or a copy; difficult to know whether the image was real, inverted, or both, in a hall of mirrors; difficult to know the authors' intentions. It was as easy to fall short of the truth as to overshoot it with one's interpretations. Here was one more reason to feel envious of his great-grandfather with the grenadier's mustache and with the smell of gunpowder floating over the muddy fields of Flanders. In those days a flag was still a flag, the Emperor was the Emperor, a rose was a rose was a rose. But now at least, here in Paris, something was clear to Corso: even as a second-level reader he was prepared to play the game only up to a certain point. He no longer had the youth, the innocence, or the desire to go and fight at a place chosen by his opponents, three duels arranged in ten minutes, in the grounds of the Carmelite convent or wherever the hell it might be" (235).

"Knife in hand, hair soaked and disheveled, and eyes shining with homicidal determination--that's how I saw Corso enter the library" (312).

"The time has come to reveal the narrator. Faithful to the tradition that the reader of a mystery novel must possess the same information as the protagonist, I have presented the events only from Lucas Corso's perspective, except on two occasions: chapters 1 and 5 of this story, when I had no choice but to appear myself. In both these cases, and as now for the third and final time, I used the first person for the sake of coherence. It would have been absurd to refer to myself as 'he,' a publicity stunt that may have yielded dividends for Julius Caesar in his campaign in Gaul but would have been judged, in my case, and quite rightly, as unpardonable pedantry" (313).

"'Napoleon made the mistake of confusing Blucher with Grouchy. Military strategy is as risky as literary strategy. Listen, Corso, there are no innocent readers anymore. Each overlays the text with his own perverse view. A reader is the total of all he's read, in addition to all the films and television he's seen. To the information supplied by the author he'll always add his own. And that's where the danger lies: an excess of references caused you to create the wrong opponent, or an imaginary opponent'" (335).

DNF (didnotfinish). 43. sayfada çeviri ve imlâ hataları yüzünden okumayı bıraktım. 28. sayfaya gelinceye kadar yerli yersiz kullanılan noktalama işaretleri sinirimi bozdu. Sonra bir paragrafa takıldım. Burada anlatıcı değişiyor mu, zaman atlıyor mu, Doktor Watson ne alaka gibi düşüncelerle okuduğumu anlamakta zorlanınca İngilizce çeviriye bakayım dedim. İngilizce paragraf şöyle;

"Some time later, when it was all over, Corso agreed to tell me the rest of the story. So I can now give a fairly accurate picture of a chain of events that I didn't witness, events that led to the fatal denouement and the solution to the mystery surrounding the Club Dumas. Thanks to what Corso told me I can now tell you, like Doctor Watson, that the following scene took place in Makarova's bar an hour after our meeting:
Flavio La Ponte came in shaking off the rain, leaned on the bar next to Corso, and ordered a beer while he caught his breath. Then he looked back at the street, aggressive but triumphant, as if he had just come through sniper fire. It was raining with biblical force."

Kitaptaki Türkçe çevirisi şöyle;

"Her şey olup bittikten bir süre sonra, Corso hikâyenin kalan kısmını anlatmayı kabul etti. Böylece şimdi, tanık olmadığım bazı olaylan gerçeğe oldukça yakın olarak, yeniden sıralayabilirim: Ölümle sonuçlanan olaylar zincirini hazırlayan koşullar ve Dumas Kulübü’nün çevresinde oluşan esranın nasıl çözümlendiği. Kitap avcısının verdiği sırlardan yola çıkıp, Doktor Watson’un bu olaya katkısını da göz önünde tutarak, sizlere ikinci perdenin Corso ile Makarova’nın barındaki görüşmemizden bir saat sonra başladığını söyleyebilirim. Flavio La Ponte üzerideki yağmur damlalarını silkeleyerek, barda oturan Corso’nun yanına gitti ve kendine gelmek için hemen bir bira ısmarladı. Sonra dönüp kinle sokağa baktı, artık rahatlamıştı, ama kendini biraz evvel iki ateş arasından geçmiş gibi hissediyordu. Şakır şakır yağmur yağıyordu."

Corso ile barda görüşen kişi anlatıcı değil. Barda gerçekleşen görüşme anlatıcı ile Corso'nun görüşmesinden bir saat sonra gerçekleşiyor. Corso daha sonra bunu anlatıcıya naklettiği için anlatabiliyor bize. Doktor Watson gibi diyip geçilse olacakmış. Watson'ın olaya ne katkısı var okuduğum yere kadar anlamadım. Paragraf cümle cümle aynen çevrilmiş. Dilimize daha uygun hale getirebilirdi bence. Events/olaylar tanımlanmış, o tamlamayı başa alırdım ben olsam. Neyse uzatmayayım çeviri okumamı zorlaştırıyor sonuç olarak. İspanyolca kaynak dilde farklı bir durum varsa bilenler yazsın lütfen. İngilizce çeviriye bakarsak iyi bir iş çıkartılmamış gibi duruyor.

Not: Kütüphaneden ödünç alıp okumaya çalıştığım kitap Kasım 2020 baskısı, Nora Kitap.

Arturo Pérez-Reverte - image from Periodistadigital.com

Corso is an unscrupulous dealer in and acquirer of rare books. When a famous collector is found dead, he is called in to authenticate what is supposedly an original manuscript chapter of The Three Musketeers. He is subsequently engaged to find the remaining known copies of a mysterious book that may have the power to summon Satan himself. The flap copy portrays this as in intellectual thriller and it is indeed that. It would help to be familiar with the work of Dumas, but still fun even in the absence. There are references aplenty that presume an eidetic memory of great literature, or, in the absence of that, at least an eagerness to engage the Google engine to add some light. Whether the refs are obvious or require research, the author makes this a fun-filled journey, a puzzle with literary clues and a surprise ending. Quite recommended.

Pérez-Reverte is one of the best known, and best-selling contemporary authors of Spanish fiction.


============================EXTRA STUFF>

Links to the author’s personal, Twitter and FB pages

This was a very odd book unlike anything I've ever read. Fortunately, it was a very intriguing odd book, but also a book that required a vast literary background to really understand. Every other word seemed to be an allusion to some famous classic. Besides the fact that you MUST have read The 3 Musketeers before this book, other recommended titles include: The Count of Monte Cristo, Twenty Years After, Paradise Lost, Dante's Inferno, Mutiny on the Bounty, Notre Dame de Paris, Cyrano de Bergerac, etc. etc...
The story line--I suppose it sort of existed--went something like this: Lucius Corso is a cynical old bibliophile wrapped up in a mess involving two ancient manuscripts and murder. Lots of it. You'll enjoy this book if you've done some classical reading, and if you don't mind learning a bit (a lot!) as you go along...about about ancient book binding and printing, how the 3 Musketeers was written, and of Dumas himself. I also found Corso's sneaking suspicion that he might himself be a character in a novel to be entertaining, especially when he wanted to "kick the head of whoever was writing this ridiculous script." However, the ending was confusing, especially if you didn't stop to think about what was happening...but the last line was very fitting: "and everyone gets the devil he deserves".