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flelix's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.0
sidharthvardhan's review against another edition
5.0
"when my dog died. The selfsame dog that laid the guilt upon me, for all time. It was very ill. I had been kneeling at its side all day long, when suddenly it barked, a brief, brusque bark such as it used to give when a stranger came into the room. That sort of bark was a signal we had agreed on, as it were, for this occasion, and I glanced up involuntarily at the door. But it was already in him. Unsettled, I tried to look into his eyes, and he tried to look into mine; but not to bid farewell. The look he gave me was hard and aggrieved. He was blaming me for letting it in. He was convinced I could have stopped it. It was apparent now that he had always thought too highly of me. And there was no time left to explain. He looked at me, aggrieved and lonely, till it was over."
A lot of people here are convinced that I am some sort of seasoned reader. It is hardly the case, lots of books I read do nothing for me. And sometimes I feel like giving up on reading altogether but then something like this comes along and tells me why I go to so much trouble. I just have a soft spot for writers like Rilke There is a very much discussed quote in 'The Idiot', where Myshkin says "Beauty will save the world". I am sure it is interpreted in lots of ways but I, personally think, that Myshkin was just such a soul. He was extremely troubled by all the cruelties, brutalaties, wrongs and suffering of the world and couldn't come to terms with it. And such sensitive people seem to find far more pleasure in things beautiful (which admittedly, in Myshkin's case, happened to be a hot women) - they must feel somehow redeemed from the bad of the world in that aesthetic experience - Dostovesky himself talked about a kind of ecstasy he felt when having epileptic attacks which made those attacks worthwhile. And this is what I believe Van Gogh must have felt in the asylum night after he had tried to kill himself when he looked out of his window and decided to draw the Starry Sky. Rilke made me feel the very same way as those artists did. He too longed for beautiful things to redeem himself and that is perhaps why he finds them more frequently than most writers. If one could kill oneself with beautiful sentences, I won't mind killing myself with this one:
"Might it not be possible, just for once, to see the sea?"
ampersunder's review against another edition
4.0
“And so when I returned to Ulsgaard in this frame of mind and saw all the books, I fell upon them: in a great hurry, almost with a bad conscience. Somehow I had a premonition of what I've so often felt in later life: that you didn't have the right to open one book if you weren't prepared to read them all. Wich every line you made a break in the world. Before books, it was whole, and perhaps after them it would be whole again. But how could I, who didn't know how to go about reading, take them all on? There they stood, even in this modest library, hopelessly outnumbering me, shoulder to shoulder in closed ranks. Defiant and desperate, I plunged from book to book and fought through the pages like someone who has to perform a task out of all proportion to his strength.”
“In later years I would sometimes wake up at night and the stars would be standing there so real and advancing with such clarity of purpose that I couldn't understand how people inured themselves to so much world. I had a similar feeling, I think, when I'd glance up from my books and look outside—where the summer was, where Abelone was calling from.”
“In later years I would sometimes wake up at night and the stars would be standing there so real and advancing with such clarity of purpose that I couldn't understand how people inured themselves to so much world. I had a similar feeling, I think, when I'd glance up from my books and look outside—where the summer was, where Abelone was calling from.”
cherrie_bluhd's review against another edition
4.0
I'm not sure if I really know how to read this book -- I think much of it went over my head, and, perhaps, if I had read it much slower, I would have been able to pick apart all of the details of each entry and pieced together a much more coherent vision of the book. But I didn't. Instead, for better or for worse, I let it wash over me, and have more of a collection of effects from the book rather than a solid understanding. To me, it was a beautiful meditation on love, loneliness, death, our relationship to ourselves, and to other people. It seemed to take an especially lonely and futile look at love and connection, possibly suggesting that they are ideals that can never be reached. And yet, while the book seemed to suggest the human experience is brutal, I didn't really get the sense that life is devoid of meaning. Maybe the very recognition of life as futile, or maybe something inward, something holy provides meaning. The sheer density of skill and tenderness of language used in the text astounded me. I feel I could have sat with every sentence for several minutes -- maybe an hour -- but then I would have never finished it, so I did with it what I could. I think I could read this over and over again and probably should. A true pleasure, even if difficult sometimes to piece together.
riverss's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
3.5
norimee's review against another edition
3.5
Beautifully written. But just so depressive, dark and hopeless.
ravenclaura's review against another edition
challenging
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
gingerliss's review against another edition
4.0
This was a difficult real. For me mainly because Rilke is always referring to people I don;t know much about, often political, sometimes artistic.
Also the work is very fragmented, which obviously is part of the point, but it doesn't make it any easier to read.
Apart from that though Rilke had some really interesting philosophical ideas and I found myself spending so much time rereading sentences because of their sheer beauty. Some amazing prose in there. I could tell why he's known mostly for his poetry!
Shame it's his only novel really. I would have been interested to read more. But this is one of those books you can reread a million times, although it does need patience to get through, and every time find something new and understand it a little bit better than you did the last time you read it.
Minus one star just for the struggle.
Also the work is very fragmented, which obviously is part of the point, but it doesn't make it any easier to read.
Apart from that though Rilke had some really interesting philosophical ideas and I found myself spending so much time rereading sentences because of their sheer beauty. Some amazing prose in there. I could tell why he's known mostly for his poetry!
Shame it's his only novel really. I would have been interested to read more. But this is one of those books you can reread a million times, although it does need patience to get through, and every time find something new and understand it a little bit better than you did the last time you read it.
Minus one star just for the struggle.