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A review by sofs
Malina by Ingeborg Bachmann
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
ABSOLUTAMENTE NINGUNA IDEA DE QUÉ ACABO DE LEER.
Así que algunos de mis pasajes favoritos porque en este momento no he procesado suficiente a Malina como para escribir una reseña que le haga justicia. Quizás me tome un par de releídas.
“A good, easy basis, whatever falls on my ground thrives, I propagate myself with words and also propagate Ivan, I beget a new lineage, my union with Ivan brings that which is willed by God into the world. Firebirds
Azurite
Plunging flames
Drops of jade”
“Ivan and I: the world converging. Malina and I, since we are one: the world diverging.”
“Are Ivan and I a dark story? No, he isn’t, I alone am a dark story.”
“I have returned to my own land which is also absent, my greathearted country, where I can make my bed.”
“This is the cemetery of the murdered daughters. He shouldn’t have said that to me, and I weep bitterly.”
“Me: How am I ever supposed to find peace. I want peace. Malina: It’s war. All you can have is this little intermission, nothing more.”
“And with a handful of sand that is my knowledge, I walk across the water, and my father cannot follow me.”
“It’s the middle of winter, more and more snow is falling on us, and my bookcases are collapsing underneath the snow, the snow is burying them slowly, while we all await deportation, and the photographs on the bookshelf are getting wet, pictures of all the people I have loved, and I wipe away the snow and shake the photographs, but the snow keeps falling, my fingers are already numb, I have to let the snow bury the photos.”
“Vivere ardendo e non sentire il male. Where’s that from? Malina: What happened to her? Me: She died in a foreign land. My father is holding my”
“But Vienna doesn’t have much time left, it’s slipping away. (…) Malina says, as I expected: Vienna is burning!”
“Sometimes a person gets lucky, but I’m sure most women are never lucky.”
“Am I a woman or something dimorphic? Am I not entirely female — what am I, anyway?”
“(…) and then I always think to myself: that could be you, that will be you. An unknown woman murdered by some unknown man.”
“Life is reading a page that you have read, or reading over your shoulder, reading with you and not forgetting, because you don’t forget anything. Life is also walking around in this void, which has space for everything.”
“I have lived in Ivan and I die in Malina.”
Así que algunos de mis pasajes favoritos porque en este momento no he procesado suficiente a Malina como para escribir una reseña que le haga justicia. Quizás me tome un par de releídas.
“A good, easy basis, whatever falls on my ground thrives, I propagate myself with words and also propagate Ivan, I beget a new lineage, my union with Ivan brings that which is willed by God into the world. Firebirds
Azurite
Plunging flames
Drops of jade”
“Ivan and I: the world converging. Malina and I, since we are one: the world diverging.”
“Are Ivan and I a dark story? No, he isn’t, I alone am a dark story.”
“I have returned to my own land which is also absent, my greathearted country, where I can make my bed.”
“This is the cemetery of the murdered daughters. He shouldn’t have said that to me, and I weep bitterly.”
“Me: How am I ever supposed to find peace. I want peace. Malina: It’s war. All you can have is this little intermission, nothing more.”
“And with a handful of sand that is my knowledge, I walk across the water, and my father cannot follow me.”
“It’s the middle of winter, more and more snow is falling on us, and my bookcases are collapsing underneath the snow, the snow is burying them slowly, while we all await deportation, and the photographs on the bookshelf are getting wet, pictures of all the people I have loved, and I wipe away the snow and shake the photographs, but the snow keeps falling, my fingers are already numb, I have to let the snow bury the photos.”
“Vivere ardendo e non sentire il male. Where’s that from? Malina: What happened to her? Me: She died in a foreign land. My father is holding my”
“But Vienna doesn’t have much time left, it’s slipping away. (…) Malina says, as I expected: Vienna is burning!”
“Sometimes a person gets lucky, but I’m sure most women are never lucky.”
“Am I a woman or something dimorphic? Am I not entirely female — what am I, anyway?”
“(…) and then I always think to myself: that could be you, that will be you. An unknown woman murdered by some unknown man.”
“Life is reading a page that you have read, or reading over your shoulder, reading with you and not forgetting, because you don’t forget anything. Life is also walking around in this void, which has space for everything.”
“I have lived in Ivan and I die in Malina.”