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volbet's review
dark
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
4.0
After reading this, I think Monsieur Cioran's reputation as a great pessimist is kinda overrated.
Sure, he writes a venomous pen that channels equal parts Oswald Spengler and Philipp Mainländer, but he does so with an almost Nietzschean sense for the dramatic and tragedy.
Cioran's texts are less of a damnation of degeneracy than it is a wallowing in it.
The entire book consists of short essays and poetic aphorisms, so don't expect long, complicated syllogisms or though-out arguments. But expect Cioran to circumvent the logical part of the brain and speak pure pathos. Cioran won't revolutionize the way you consider Being, history or discourse, but expect his ideas to lodge themselves in you subconscious, tickling your hippocampus every time it's inconvenient.
Sure, he writes a venomous pen that channels equal parts Oswald Spengler and Philipp Mainländer, but he does so with an almost Nietzschean sense for the dramatic and tragedy.
Cioran's texts are less of a damnation of degeneracy than it is a wallowing in it.
The entire book consists of short essays and poetic aphorisms, so don't expect long, complicated syllogisms or though-out arguments. But expect Cioran to circumvent the logical part of the brain and speak pure pathos. Cioran won't revolutionize the way you consider Being, history or discourse, but expect his ideas to lodge themselves in you subconscious, tickling your hippocampus every time it's inconvenient.
likecymbeline's review
4.0
I was murdered by the chapter "In One of Earth's Attics" and couldn't rest till I had this book. I was disappointed by the last Romanian existentialist I read (Max Belcher's [b:Adventures In Immediate Irreality|22405661|Adventures In Immediate Irreality|Max Blecher|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1404961287s/22405661.jpg|6706208]), but, well, this time the poetry of Cioran's words recommended it to me rather than merely a haunting photograph of a dead man and a very curious title.
This book is a study in decadence, the end of a society, though I'm not certain I agree with all of Cioran's definitions or "tells" of a civilization in decay. The main draw of this book is the language he uses. It's not about agreeing or disagreeing with his analyses. It's about allowing yourself to be suspended in the ideas and realising how you've existed them. "Weary of the future, I have traversed its days, and yet I am tormented by the intemperance of unknown thirsts." It's beautiful.
It's hard to describe this book in my current set and surroundings. I think it would seem very dark and I think it would worry people to tell them how much I love what he's written about meaninglessness or suicide: "That a man should survive his passion was enough to make him contemptible in my eyes" and other quotations that, on second thought, I won't share because they mean too much.
I want a physical copy of this book for rereading. I wonder if I would highlight the same passages. But finding it may not be easy.
This book is a study in decadence, the end of a society, though I'm not certain I agree with all of Cioran's definitions or "tells" of a civilization in decay. The main draw of this book is the language he uses. It's not about agreeing or disagreeing with his analyses. It's about allowing yourself to be suspended in the ideas and realising how you've existed them. "Weary of the future, I have traversed its days, and yet I am tormented by the intemperance of unknown thirsts." It's beautiful.
It's hard to describe this book in my current set and surroundings. I think it would seem very dark and I think it would worry people to tell them how much I love what he's written about meaninglessness or suicide: "That a man should survive his passion was enough to make him contemptible in my eyes" and other quotations that, on second thought, I won't share because they mean too much.
I want a physical copy of this book for rereading. I wonder if I would highlight the same passages. But finding it may not be easy.
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