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blackoxford's review against another edition
5.0
The Tragedy Of/In Self-Discovery
What are we but the intersection and connection of an infinite number of random things? Events, energy, primal matter, possessions, relations, ideas. And when we are no longer, don’t many of these things persist, vagrant parts of us? These are then discoverable by someone else who becomes part of them as they of him. And if that is so, how could the fate of anyone of us be separate from that of all others? Their lives are ours, particularly their tragedy, for which we have a right as well as duty to weep. A right because we were never separate. A duty because they may have wept for us.
What are we but the intersection and connection of an infinite number of random things? Events, energy, primal matter, possessions, relations, ideas. And when we are no longer, don’t many of these things persist, vagrant parts of us? These are then discoverable by someone else who becomes part of them as they of him. And if that is so, how could the fate of anyone of us be separate from that of all others? Their lives are ours, particularly their tragedy, for which we have a right as well as duty to weep. A right because we were never separate. A duty because they may have wept for us.
zoschox's review against another edition
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
4.0
takem_eout's review
adventurous
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
4.0
lyrabelaqa's review against another edition
1.0
Wtf, c'était nuuuuul, j'ai perdu une heure de ma vie.
blackoxford's review
5.0
The Tragedy Of/In Self-Discovery
What are we but the intersection and connection of an infinite number of random things? Events, energy, primal matter, possessions, relations, ideas. And when we are no longer, don’t many of these things persist, vagrant parts of us? These are then discoverable by someone else who becomes part of them as they of him. And if that is so, how could the fate of anyone of us be separate from that of all others? Their lives are ours, particularly their tragedy, for which we have a right as well as duty to weep. A right because we were never separate. A duty because they may have wept for us.
What are we but the intersection and connection of an infinite number of random things? Events, energy, primal matter, possessions, relations, ideas. And when we are no longer, don’t many of these things persist, vagrant parts of us? These are then discoverable by someone else who becomes part of them as they of him. And if that is so, how could the fate of anyone of us be separate from that of all others? Their lives are ours, particularly their tragedy, for which we have a right as well as duty to weep. A right because we were never separate. A duty because they may have wept for us.
giuliadanisi's review
challenging
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
2.0
Definitely not one of my favorites.
tomwootton's review
4.0
great opening.
“To open the drawers you have to turn the handle and press down. This disconnects the spring, the mechanism is set off with a slight metallic click, and the ball bearings automatically begin to slide. The drawers are stacked at a slight angle and run out of their own accord on small rails. First you see the feet, then the stomach, then the chest, then the head of the corpse.”
this is a book of absences, the dead man being the central absence, and of projection into those absences by the main character, Spino (tho also by the reader). It is about how a dead man becomes a self-elected locus of objects and events that pertain to Spino, and how he seems to those around him, to drift further and further from the world, as he projects more and more into an empty space that may not by an empty space but the only perspective on the world that correlates the objects in it.
v short, spare, well done, with nice brush strokes of the italian city environment and hinterland in which it takes place.
“To open the drawers you have to turn the handle and press down. This disconnects the spring, the mechanism is set off with a slight metallic click, and the ball bearings automatically begin to slide. The drawers are stacked at a slight angle and run out of their own accord on small rails. First you see the feet, then the stomach, then the chest, then the head of the corpse.”
this is a book of absences, the dead man being the central absence, and of projection into those absences by the main character, Spino (tho also by the reader). It is about how a dead man becomes a self-elected locus of objects and events that pertain to Spino, and how he seems to those around him, to drift further and further from the world, as he projects more and more into an empty space that may not by an empty space but the only perspective on the world that correlates the objects in it.
v short, spare, well done, with nice brush strokes of the italian city environment and hinterland in which it takes place.
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