A review by adam613
Satantango by László Krasznahorkai

5.0

"Our clock here is very late, while that one there measures not so much time as, well, the eternal reality of the exploited, we to it are as the bough of a tree to the rain that falls upon it: in other words we are helpless."

One of the best things about studying Shakespeare in high school is learning not only about history but also about the real connection between literature and the world around us. How many times have you felt that the days when you're feeling sad and it's rainy and cold outside? Or days when the sun is out and the weather is clear, and you feel very happy or at peace? I had no idea that there was a term for that until I was fifteen studying Julius Caesar, Ms. P. taught us about the term pathetic fallacy and to this day I love the term and its meaning. She put a real connection between not just literature and the real world, but a relation between myself and the world through literature. For that, I am eternally grateful. In Satantango, not only is the dreary, muddy, post-apocalyptic setting an attribution of the bleak and hopeless mood and outlook of its citizens, it is entirely its own character in and of itself.

"Eventually everyone was resigned to the sense of helplessness, hoping for miracles, watching the clock with ever greater anxiety counting the weeks and months until even time lost its importance and they sat around all day in the kitchen, getting a few pennies from here and there that they immediately drank away at the bar."

Krasznahorkai has created a world that seems to have only been written in the aftermath of the fall of communism in Hungary, and yet also exists outside of any particular time. The bar folk all seem to be waiting for who knows what and wasting away. They have all suffered great loss and find themselves desperately together for better or worse. So when word travels of the return of Irmias, who they thought had died, their newfound hope becomes their biggest downfall. Think of Frank Herbert's quote "Belief can be manipulated. Only knowledge is dangerous." and you have some kind of idea of what kind of things ensue.

“What is behind me still remains ahead of me.”

Irmias seems to be the only one who knows what is going on at any point, not only amongst the characters but the reader as well. I'm not going to lie that at times I found this read frustrating. There is a clandestine and covert element to this novel that left many questions. Twenty years ago, I watched Broken Flowers and I was livid that the ending didn't answer any questions for me. At this point in my life I can read books like Satantango that challenge myself in numerous ways including being able to dive into the abyss and to digest a sordid tale that is undefined by its conclusion.
Satantango is stunning, dense, frustrating literary greatness that are necessary hurdles and measuring sticks and acknowledgment of my growth in time passed.

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"Then, wherever the shadow falls they follow, like a flock of sheep, because they can't do without a shadow, just as they can't do without pomp and splendor either."

"And so the images moved silently past his eyes in ever more stilted sequence, as if everything man might hold dear and consider vital to protect existed as part of some independent, indissoluble system, and while one's memory was still functional enough to furnish it with a degree of certainty and bring into existence its lightly fleeting now, as well as validating the living strands of the rules of the system in the open field of events, one was forced to bridge the gap between memory and life not with a sense of freedom but rather bound by the cramped satisfaction simply of being the possessor of the memory."

"She thought over the events of the day and smiled as she understood how they all connected up; she felt it was neither chance, nor accident, but an unutterably beautiful logic that was holding them together."

"The angels see this and understand it."

"The grave words rang mournfully through the bar: it was like the continuous tolling of furious beaten bells, the sound of which served less to direct them to the source of their problems than simply to terrify them."

“Get it into your thick head that jokes are just like life. Things that begin badly, end badly. Everything's fine in the middle, it's the end you need to worry about.”




"The imagination never stops working but we're not one jot nearer the truth."

"these things take all my attention."