A nicely written story about three friends living in exile from their homeland, who manage to find strength through each other to rebuild their lives and to live in defiance of the authoritarian regime that took everything from them. Written with serene prose that presents the narrative in a retrospective way from a future where things aren't so bad, making the troubles of the past a palatable fundamental memory.
A satirical attack on the intellectuals, writers, poets, and thinkers who are so educated and consider themselves at the forefront of culture, yet are completely mute when it comes to actually doing anything helpful for society with their knowledge, and are silent in the face of, or even cowardly capitulating to, authoritarianism against the country they claim to love.
Giovanni Drogo lived a life devoid of meaning. He did not live a happy life; he never reached the milestones necessary as his peers did. He never married Maria, the woman he loved, he never travelled, nor had much of a career to be proud of, not had any children to carry on his albeit small legacy. He never escaped the fort or it's delusions either.
Nothing major happened in his life to give it any real significance. He spent his life chasing an image of a supposed major event, only for it to be taken from him the moment it seemed real.
Yet, the whole time his soul was nourished by the hope that one day this climatic event would give his life meaning.
As he begins to pass, he realises his past hopes pale in comparison to the hope he needs at his death, the hope that he can be brave enough to accept his mild life and to truly face the prospect of his death.
And he does it. He goes bravely like the hero he always wanted to be. He goes alone, in a foreign place, with no support, moral or physical. This took the most bravery for Drogo.
The first half is a harrowing depiction of a psychopathic soldier slowly overwhelmed by the stinging heat and suffocating humidity of an arid climate that is not his. It seeps into his body and his mind, releasing his inhibitions to make way for his natural cruelty. No longer governed by any formal laws or human morals, he repeatedly commits acts of unspeakable violence against an innocent. The writing is all from his perspective, leaving a fair amount of the details to the spiralling imagination of the reader, while doing just enough to make them realise exactly what is happening and how the victim is feeling.
This is, just another in a long line of similar atrocities, so common place that they’ve stopped eliciting a real response. In fact, what catches the eye of the Palestinian woman who is the protagonist of the second half of the book, is that this forgotten, minor detail of history took place on the same date as her own birth, albeit 25 years earlier. Unable to suppress the urge to know more, she sets off to investigate the incident.
I couldn’t help but feel like there’s a slight drop in quality between the two halves, as the second is told in such a didactic way that it felt like less of a story and more of procedural recounting of events, filled with details of living under the occupation that are absolutely important to convey and were definitely informative, but so crammed into the story that it left it feeling like reading a patronising history book for kids.
Still, I don’t want to take away from the importance of the novel too much. For the average layperson looking to learn more about the Israeli colonisation of Palestine, and the ongoing horror for the Palestinian civilians, then you will find this book useful. It’s just a shame that the second half wasn’t written very well.
Didn't enjoy this one tbh. At their core, the stories are all too similar. They focus on a man with no personality beyond his incomprehension of women and his lust, as he deals with being enamoured with these women in a very self-centred way. The men in these stories do not consider the woman’s perspective on their relationship (or former relationship) at all, coming across as only perpetual victims who, for all the wrongs they've committed, are apparently the only ones truly suffering.
The worst of these men is the 52-year-old plastic surgeon in The Lying Organ. Having never been married, he carries out multiple simultaneous affairs with married women. He prefers to not "deal" with the emotional side of a relationship at all, valuing only quick satisfaction from intermittent women who will not ask for anything more. Yet, when he falls for one of these women and his worldview is challenged, he doesn't re-evaluate his life; he chooses to do nothing and remain confused. So, when the woman leaves him, and her husband, for a third man, playing her own game, the man has a breakdown. Instead of it being a learning experience, in the wake of the first challenge to his easy life, he chooses to starve himself to death. Tad bit melodramatic, mate. Men will do anything except go to therapy, I swear.
The only story that was exempt to these problems was Drive My Car, the story of an actor whose wife has passed away. They loved each other, but he discovers that she had been actively cheating on him with many partners over the years. The idea of the story is that you can't truly know someone no matter how much you're in love with each other. It's possible that there may be some dissatisfaction beyond that love, and this is just a fact of life that needs to be accepted to move on. An interesting idea.
However, even this story wasn't great, especially when compared to the fantastic 2021 film directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi. The film allows the characters feelings to develop organically and logically, in comparison to the short story where everything is just stated.
Overall, just very disappointing. I still want to try one of his longer works to see some of his more fantastical ideas on display. There wasn't much of that here.
Maybe M told her husband how beautiful my penis is. When we lay in bed in the afternoon, she used to lovingly hold it on her palm and gaze at it like she was admiring the legendary crown jewels of India. “It’s sooo beautiful,” she would say.
This book is so annoying. The main character is controlled by his anxiety. It has been present since his childhood and now as an adult he cannot live without it, so he continuously creates the conditions for his anxiety to continue. This then stops him from getting anything done, as he's too overwhelmed by his anxiety to even write one sentence. This is pathetic, to be in your 50s and still have no control over yourself. The only reason he survived this long is because he's a trust fund rich kid.
I have no problem with morally good, bad, or grey characters or whatever, but please don't make your characters annoying, especially when they're the only real character in the book and the book is written as just their inner thoughts. And yes Bernhard, we get it, you hate Vienna. Bloody hell.
It was good. I enjoyed the mystery surrounding how he ended up in the House, and then the lore of the Prophet and those guys researching the house. And I guess I liked the idea of old memories flowing from our world to this House, and then flowing continuously onwards. But I did find the ending a bit flat. I don't think it was bad. It's just that all the interesting mystery and lore was already revealed by that point. It felt too neat in the end. The story itself wasn't as much of a labyrinth as I had hoped, especially from the beginning introduction to the House. I hope that guy learns to lead a happy life outside of the House.
I am dropping Solenoid for the second time. I reached just under half way. I really like the weird, fantastical, freakish imagery Cartarescu uses and I think his hallucinatory view of his world is cool, but he spends so much time talking about his childhood or some other thing that happened at the school that it feels like the book is not progressing in any real way and it's become too much of a slog for me