Take a photo of a barcode or cover
This, then, is where people come to live; I'd have thought it more of a place to die.
The opening line to Rilke's first and only novel, although perhaps best described as a nascent prose poem, sets the tone for a fragmented series of observations during Rilke's time in Paris between 1902 and 1910, through his Danish alter ego Malte Laurids Brigge.
Fragmented though the observations are, the thing that distinguishes Brigge from the archetypal flâneur, death obsession aside, is his lack of engagement with the city itself, instead preferring to write in his notebook whilst sitting in the corner of a room. I saw someone describe it as a 'flâneur of the mind' which I thought was quite astute. Because in addition to these sketches of Paris life, Brigge, in his isolation, leaps into the past to retell stories of his aristocratic family and his childhood. These transitions can be quite jarring as oftentimes there is no narrative thread running from one entry to the next. Still, thematically there is a loose connectedness, which keeps things somewhat together.
I didn't love this book but it did have its moments, and unsurprisingly the writing is expertly and beautifully crafted. Though I think the most interesting aspect is how we are privy to the birth of creation in the mind of Rilke. As Brigge starts to really see Paris and its people, he postulates that it's possible that nobody has yet seen the world properly, and so he must try to.
These sketches are Rilke/Brigge feeling their way towards that ultimate truth. One that only poetry can ever hope to reveal, by internalising experience and memory to such a degree that it is worthy of being described as such. This line from entry 14 explains it best:
For it is not the memories in themselves that are of consequence. Only when they become the very blood within us, our every look and gesture, nameless and no longer distinguishable from our inmost self, only then, in the rarest of hours, can the first word of a poem arise in their midst and go out from among them.
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
confusing nonlinear narration unlikable main character (i get thats the point)
challenging
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
"What's the use of telling someone that I am changing? If I'm changing, I am no longer who I was; and if I am something else, it's obvious that I have no acquaintances. And I can't possibly write to strangers."
It is precisely because the form of this book is so hard to pin down that it is so effective. It challenges the reader to forget about the novel, and its easy explications and narrative arcs. (Though it feels much too organically arisen for me to use the term 'experimental'). Here we have a scattered mess, constantly morphing: Proustian memories of childhood, historical tangents on some King/Duke (this is where he lost me; I'll need to learn more and re-read), ruminations on poverty and death, ghosts, philosophy, observations, and Biblical stories re-told Rilkean style. But no hand is there to guide us through, we have to piece these fragments together to form the life (or at least one day in the life) of Malte Laurids Brigge. We can only imply, and only by seeing things Malte's way can we be. The story ends abruptly. No conclusions, no real story (if that is what you are looking for), only sketches, a glimpse here and there, but it feels so full! And enlarging!
It is precisely because the form of this book is so hard to pin down that it is so effective. It challenges the reader to forget about the novel, and its easy explications and narrative arcs. (Though it feels much too organically arisen for me to use the term 'experimental'). Here we have a scattered mess, constantly morphing: Proustian memories of childhood, historical tangents on some King/Duke (this is where he lost me; I'll need to learn more and re-read), ruminations on poverty and death, ghosts, philosophy, observations, and Biblical stories re-told Rilkean style. But no hand is there to guide us through, we have to piece these fragments together to form the life (or at least one day in the life) of Malte Laurids Brigge. We can only imply, and only by seeing things Malte's way can we be. The story ends abruptly. No conclusions, no real story (if that is what you are looking for), only sketches, a glimpse here and there, but it feels so full! And enlarging!
dark
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
dark
reflective
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
Many are familiar with his "Duino Elegies," and some colleges even require his "Letters to a Young Poet" in freshmen classes, but Rilke's only novel remains somewhat of a mystery. Much like other existential, man-about-town texts, in which not much happens but a character's obsession becomes fully lived (cf. Sartre and nausea, Lautréamont and evil, Miller and sex), Rilke's Malte is troubled by the question of death and transcendence, and that place where the veil of reality is torn to reveal poetic meaning. Though as a whole the "Notebooks" wanders off without a proper finish, many of the scenes display a linguistic and imagistic virtuosity that I don't think is rivaled in any other piece of literature. A personal favorite, try to find Stephen Mitchell's masterful translation.
Diesen Roman habe ich größtenteils gehört und die Sprecherin hat nicht gerade geholfen. Inhaltlich und sprachlich wirklich interessant, thematisch häufig nah an den Duineser Elegien, hat der Erzählstil leider vieles vernachlässigt und nicht wirklich oder richtig transportiert.
Man erkennt hier ansonsten sehr gut die beginnende Moderne und die relativ dünne Handlung wird ersetzt durch eine viel eindrücklichere Auseinandersetzung des Erzählers mit sich selbst und seiner Position in seiner Umwelt.
Werde ich wohl nochmal und diesmal selbst lesen müssen.
Man erkennt hier ansonsten sehr gut die beginnende Moderne und die relativ dünne Handlung wird ersetzt durch eine viel eindrücklichere Auseinandersetzung des Erzählers mit sich selbst und seiner Position in seiner Umwelt.
Werde ich wohl nochmal und diesmal selbst lesen müssen.