This text is a translation from Bulgarian. The original can be found here.
Putting Creatures of Light and Darkness into categories is a difficult task. From the point of view of genre, form, style, anyhow. Its text is seemingly messy (and remains messy under careful scrutiny), as if under the influence of light drugs. The text itself – if I can be allowed this heavy-handed personification – and not the author who produced it, as underground fan legends sometimes have it.
Creatures of Light and Darkness strikes me as a science-fictional poem. I initially attempted to bolster this argument with the kind of discursive and formally elaborate writing associated with academic literature. Then I decided against it. The reader just needs to read the first chapter – in the House of the Dead – to see the poetry, shining through, crisp and clear.
I read Moon Palace about four months ago. I really wanted to write something about it, even though its trace is no longer as fresh in my mind as it was then. This text is not a review. The book is wonderful, possibly the best Auster novel out of the three I’ve read (the others being The New York Trilogy and Timbuktu), and I’d recommend it heartily to anybody. This text isn’t an attempt at an exhaustive analysis either – I’m too far detached from my reading experience at this point. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, but a degree of immediate entanglement with the text is essential to such a project. I’d like to think of it rather as a key or sorts; one that would allow me some day, when I revisit the story, to open more of its doors. It does contain some spoilers, and though I’ve tried not to reveal that much, it’s probably better to read it after the novel itself. Continue reading
It is time to engage in a little bit of blog resurrection. My reading has been somewhat haphazard in the last few months, so choosing a book to review is not an easy task. The Long Ships by Frans Bengtsson is a novel I finished more than half a year ago; maybe I could have written a proper, detailed review in the beginning of 2013, but that’s not the case now. I feel, though, that I must write something about it. For this is the sort of novel you discover unexpectedly, like a hidden treasure buried in the piles of rubble you were distractedly raking through. Such gems must not remained unmentioned. The distance of time may not permit me analytical sharpness, but effusive enthusiasm I still have aplenty, so I will focus on that and try to tone down the effusive bit as much as possible.
In the introduction to the book Michael Chabon calls it a work of fiction that “stands ready, given the chance, to bring lasting pleasure to every single human being on the face of the earth.” What a way to negatively bias the readers. And yet, if Chabon’s impossible breed of a book ever existed, The Long Ships has its genes. Continue reading
Двете най-силни книги, които съм прочел тази година, са български. Чак ми е странно колко много ме радва това. Някакво неоформено усещане за лъх на претенциозност дълго време ме държеше настрана от Физика на тъгата (за втората книга може би друг път), но накрая го преодолях и сега съжалявам, че го е имало. Нищо, грешките учат.
Всъщност разбирам защо ми е лъхало на претенция. И тук както и в Естествен роман от същия автор в сърцевината на книгата е отказът от добре отработената форма. Даже цитатите в началото си го казват това: “Чистите жанрове не ме интересуват много. Романът не е ариец”, “Читателят е свободен да приеме тази книга като роман…” Continue reading
project Dostoevski на Радослав Парушев си е умишлено хлъзгава книга, авторът се е постарал така да я напише. То не са лингвистични каламбури и постмодерни диверсии, изобщо, пипал е по такъв начин, че да се оттича смисълът на романа през сумати цепки и накрая я си разбрал къде се е събрал в гьол или пет гьола, я не, я не ти пука особено. Затова сме поканили (така де, поканил съм, ама така се казва по принцип) авторът сам да се изкаже по някои въпроси.
А: Ти пък кой си? Continue reading