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quinndm's review
4.0
Malaparte uses his journalism skills and his talent for prose to create something truly magnificent.
His journey across the continent is physically exhausting and dangerous, but it's the reader's journey that becomes something more arduous; as we turn each page, we are pulled farther into Europe, further into the war, and deeper into the unimaginable horrors of that conflict... each chapter changes us and becomes something that transcends emotional involvement and philosophical awe.
His journey across the continent is physically exhausting and dangerous, but it's the reader's journey that becomes something more arduous; as we turn each page, we are pulled farther into Europe, further into the war, and deeper into the unimaginable horrors of that conflict... each chapter changes us and becomes something that transcends emotional involvement and philosophical awe.
ladyrosy's review against another edition
dark
informative
sad
3.75
Content Warnings
Moderate: Rape, Violence, Antisemitism, Murder, and War
flexluthor's review
4.0
This book is insane. It was impossible for me to read it and not be just flabbergasted by the anecdotes shared within, constantly going "that can't be true" at everything I read (no one really has any idea what in this book is true to life). The prose is beautiful, although can be meandering at times. Malaparte is so navel gazing it's sickening and he switches sides and cozies up to whoever is the most powerful in the room like it's a compulsion. I imagined Peter Lorre as the author the entire time. I think the pacing of the book is it's strong suit, and really matches the tone as the narrative falls to an unsatisfying, uneasy conclusion in the absence of any resolution of the war.
Malaparte was by all accounts a fascist, which comes up in interesting ways in the story as he protects Jews from Nazi pogroms and criticizes Mussolini, Hitler, Himmler, Rommel, pretty much every fascist leader one could imagine. This book does a good job of showing how complex people can be, especially against my understanding of WWII as a two-sided conflict between nations allied under common goals.
This is a book I will think about for a while for many reasons: the questions of how much and what specifically is true, the horrific imagery of war, the beautiful prose, and the complex and utterly unlikeable characters (real people?) presented within. Also there's a hilarious anecdote of Malaparte trying for all he's worth to avoid a meeting with Himmler. What a bizarre individual Malaparte was.
Malaparte was by all accounts a fascist, which comes up in interesting ways in the story as he protects Jews from Nazi pogroms and criticizes Mussolini, Hitler, Himmler, Rommel, pretty much every fascist leader one could imagine. This book does a good job of showing how complex people can be, especially against my understanding of WWII as a two-sided conflict between nations allied under common goals.
This is a book I will think about for a while for many reasons: the questions of how much and what specifically is true, the horrific imagery of war, the beautiful prose, and the complex and utterly unlikeable characters (real people?) presented within. Also there's a hilarious anecdote of Malaparte trying for all he's worth to avoid a meeting with Himmler. What a bizarre individual Malaparte was.
bamdad's review against another edition
3.0
بر خلاف "پوست" این رمان اون تاثیری که ازش توقع داشتم رو نداشت.
همچنان تشبیهات فوق العاده مالاپارته توی این کتاب هم درخشانه و صحنه هایی رو توصیف میکنه که نمیشه فراموششون کرد.
ولی از نظر من این رمان از نداشتن یک خط داستانی درست و حسابی رنج میبره و زیاد از حد تیکه و پاره است، و شاید هدف نویسنده هم همین بوده ولی خب اون کششی که پوست داشت رو نداره اصلا. پوست هم خیلی خط داستانی پر رنگی نداشت ولی اون ستینگ داستانی جوری بود که نگه میداشت پاره هارو کنار هم.
این کتاب زیادی طولانی و خسته کننده بود برای من.
همچنان تشبیهات فوق العاده مالاپارته توی این کتاب هم درخشانه و صحنه هایی رو توصیف میکنه که نمیشه فراموششون کرد.
ولی از نظر من این رمان از نداشتن یک خط داستانی درست و حسابی رنج میبره و زیاد از حد تیکه و پاره است، و شاید هدف نویسنده هم همین بوده ولی خب اون کششی که پوست داشت رو نداره اصلا. پوست هم خیلی خط داستانی پر رنگی نداشت ولی اون ستینگ داستانی جوری بود که نگه میداشت پاره هارو کنار هم.
این کتاب زیادی طولانی و خسته کننده بود برای من.
kingkong's review
5.0
I liked the part where he sees Himmler in the sauna and talks about his pink round belly
epictetsocrate's review
3.0
Prinţul Eugenio de Suedia se opri în mijlocul încăperii. „Ascultaţi”, spuse.
Printre stejarii din Oakhill şi printre pinii din parcul Valdemarsudden, de dincolo de braţul de mare ce pătrunde în uscat până la Nybroplan, în inima Stockholmului, răzbătea cu vântul un tânguit trist şi plin de dragoste. Nu era chemarea melancolică a sirenelor de pe navele care urcau dinspre mare către port, nici ţipătul înceţoşat al pescăruşilor, era o voce feminină, dispersată şi plină de durere.
— Sunt caii de la Tivoli, parcul de distracţii ce se află faţă-n faţă cu Skansen”, spuse prinţul Eugenio cu voce joasă.
Ne-am apropiat de ferestrele mari care dădeau înspre parc, sprijinindu-ne fruntea de geamurile uşor aburite, de ceaţa albastră ce venea dinspre mare. Pe cărarea care urmărea muchia colinei coborau săltând trei cai albi, urmaţi de o copilă îmbrăcată în galben; traversară o poartă, coborâră până la o plajă îngustă, plină de cutere, de canoe, de bărci pescăreşti vopsite în roşu şi verde.
Era o zi limpede de septembrie, de o delicateţe aproape primăvăratică. Toamna înroşise deja bătrânii arbori din Oakhill. Prin braţul de mare, deasupra căruia se ridică promontoriul pe care este construită vila Valdemarsudden, reşedinţa prinţului Eugenio, fratele regelui Gustav al V-lea al Suediei, treceau vapoare mari şi cenuşii, cu imense drapele suedeze, cu o cruce galbenă pe un fond azuriu, pictate pe laturi. Stoluri de pescăruşi lansau tânguiri răguşite, asemănătoare cu plânsetul unui copil. Mai jos, în lungul cheiurilor din Nybroplan şi din Strandvăgen, se legănau vaporaşe albe cu nume încântătoare de localităţi şi insule, făcând legătura între Stockholm şi arhipelag. În spatele arsenalului se ridica un nor de fum albastru, pe care zborul unui pescăruş îl întretăia din când în când, asemeni unui fulger alb. Vântul aducea sunetul micilor orchestre din Belmannsro şi din Hasselbacken, strigătele mulţimii de marinari, soldaţi, fetişcane, copii adunaţi în jurul acrobaţilor, scamatorilor şi cântăreţilor ambulanţi, ce-şi petrec toată ziua în faţa porţilor palatului Skansen.
Printre stejarii din Oakhill şi printre pinii din parcul Valdemarsudden, de dincolo de braţul de mare ce pătrunde în uscat până la Nybroplan, în inima Stockholmului, răzbătea cu vântul un tânguit trist şi plin de dragoste. Nu era chemarea melancolică a sirenelor de pe navele care urcau dinspre mare către port, nici ţipătul înceţoşat al pescăruşilor, era o voce feminină, dispersată şi plină de durere.
— Sunt caii de la Tivoli, parcul de distracţii ce se află faţă-n faţă cu Skansen”, spuse prinţul Eugenio cu voce joasă.
Ne-am apropiat de ferestrele mari care dădeau înspre parc, sprijinindu-ne fruntea de geamurile uşor aburite, de ceaţa albastră ce venea dinspre mare. Pe cărarea care urmărea muchia colinei coborau săltând trei cai albi, urmaţi de o copilă îmbrăcată în galben; traversară o poartă, coborâră până la o plajă îngustă, plină de cutere, de canoe, de bărci pescăreşti vopsite în roşu şi verde.
Era o zi limpede de septembrie, de o delicateţe aproape primăvăratică. Toamna înroşise deja bătrânii arbori din Oakhill. Prin braţul de mare, deasupra căruia se ridică promontoriul pe care este construită vila Valdemarsudden, reşedinţa prinţului Eugenio, fratele regelui Gustav al V-lea al Suediei, treceau vapoare mari şi cenuşii, cu imense drapele suedeze, cu o cruce galbenă pe un fond azuriu, pictate pe laturi. Stoluri de pescăruşi lansau tânguiri răguşite, asemănătoare cu plânsetul unui copil. Mai jos, în lungul cheiurilor din Nybroplan şi din Strandvăgen, se legănau vaporaşe albe cu nume încântătoare de localităţi şi insule, făcând legătura între Stockholm şi arhipelag. În spatele arsenalului se ridica un nor de fum albastru, pe care zborul unui pescăruş îl întretăia din când în când, asemeni unui fulger alb. Vântul aducea sunetul micilor orchestre din Belmannsro şi din Hasselbacken, strigătele mulţimii de marinari, soldaţi, fetişcane, copii adunaţi în jurul acrobaţilor, scamatorilor şi cântăreţilor ambulanţi, ce-şi petrec toată ziua în faţa porţilor palatului Skansen.
febeyer's review
5.0
When I read Malaparte's novel Kaputt, I felt like I had never come across a writer so compelled to explain the dark side of the human spirit to us. Primo Levi’s account of his time in Auschwitz "Se Questo è un Uomo" (If this is a Man) is a masterpiece, but he was a victim: he could dismiss the Germans as merely evil. In Kaputt, Malaparte, although a lifelong anti-German, is compromised by being an officer in the Italian army and a former enthusiast of fascism. He knows what it’s like to be on the wrong side of history. He visits the Jewish ghettos of Warsaw, Krakow and other Polish cities – wishing to go alone, but always trailed by a Gestapo officer. He sees ragged and starving bodies lying on the streets, waiting to be loaded onto carts and be taken away. But there are not enough carts. He dines with the German Governor General of Poland, Hans Frank, the very man who is in charge of these ghettos. Malaparte wants to see inside Frank’s soul – to explain the evil to us:
"I knew enough of him to detest him, but I felt honor bound not to stop there. … I hoped to catch a gesture, a word, an involuntary action that might reveal to me Frank’s real face, his inner face, that would suddenly break away from the dark, deep region of his mind where, I instinctively felt, the roots of his cruel intelligence and fine musical sensitiveness were anchored in a morbid and, in a certain sense, criminal subsoil of character."
Malaparte brings us beautiful tragic images - such as horses that jump into Lake Ladoga in Finland to escape a forest fire created by an aerial bombardment. Tragically the lake suddenly freezes and the horses with it. They create macabre statues, the terror can be seen in their eyes - we wouldn't want to be there for the thawing. Malaparte loves giving life to corpses, the corpse of Mussolini speaks to him in his novel "The Skin" as does a dead Russian soldier in "The Volga Rises in Europe". The horse story is undoubtedly untrue - this is a book where bending and changing the truth leads to a work of art that reflects the follies of war even better than a well-written blow by blow account such as "All Quiet on the Western Front".
Malaparte has a baroque style which in other writers would be pretentious but he pulls it off, he references a lot of high European culture - as in the following landscape sketch in which he references a Swedish painter:
“Daylight was beginning to lose its youth after the ghostlike endlessness of a pellucid summer day, without dawn or sunset. Already the face of the day was growing wrinkled, and little by little the evening was darkening the first, still-luminous shadows. Trees, rocks, houses and clouds sweeter and more intense in their foreboding of the coming night were slowly melting into the mellow autumnal landscape, as in those landscapes of Elias Martin.”
Scenes of natural beauty like this one contrast bitterly with the horrors Malaparte witnesses on the Eastern Front. He is distraught, maybe not for the loss of those close to him - but for the willful destruction of a great civilization by those, like Hans Frank, who make a great show of being sophisticated and educated. Malaparte is also adept at using surrealism and Christian imagery. I would be tempted to give this 6 stars.
"I knew enough of him to detest him, but I felt honor bound not to stop there. … I hoped to catch a gesture, a word, an involuntary action that might reveal to me Frank’s real face, his inner face, that would suddenly break away from the dark, deep region of his mind where, I instinctively felt, the roots of his cruel intelligence and fine musical sensitiveness were anchored in a morbid and, in a certain sense, criminal subsoil of character."
Malaparte brings us beautiful tragic images - such as horses that jump into Lake Ladoga in Finland to escape a forest fire created by an aerial bombardment. Tragically the lake suddenly freezes and the horses with it. They create macabre statues, the terror can be seen in their eyes - we wouldn't want to be there for the thawing. Malaparte loves giving life to corpses, the corpse of Mussolini speaks to him in his novel "The Skin" as does a dead Russian soldier in "The Volga Rises in Europe". The horse story is undoubtedly untrue - this is a book where bending and changing the truth leads to a work of art that reflects the follies of war even better than a well-written blow by blow account such as "All Quiet on the Western Front".
Malaparte has a baroque style which in other writers would be pretentious but he pulls it off, he references a lot of high European culture - as in the following landscape sketch in which he references a Swedish painter:
“Daylight was beginning to lose its youth after the ghostlike endlessness of a pellucid summer day, without dawn or sunset. Already the face of the day was growing wrinkled, and little by little the evening was darkening the first, still-luminous shadows. Trees, rocks, houses and clouds sweeter and more intense in their foreboding of the coming night were slowly melting into the mellow autumnal landscape, as in those landscapes of Elias Martin.”
Scenes of natural beauty like this one contrast bitterly with the horrors Malaparte witnesses on the Eastern Front. He is distraught, maybe not for the loss of those close to him - but for the willful destruction of a great civilization by those, like Hans Frank, who make a great show of being sophisticated and educated. Malaparte is also adept at using surrealism and Christian imagery. I would be tempted to give this 6 stars.
whatsnonfiction's review
4.0
His descriptions are pretty fantastic. I was surprised at how beautifully written some of it was. Obviously the best parts, and what I think are the most factual of the entire narrative, are when he's at intimate events with upper echelon Nazi leaders. So evil!! but very indicative of the thought processes and beliefs that were rampant at the time. He sometimes seems to sort of paint himself as a better person than he really was...I think...some of the things he says I'm not sure he could've actually gotten away with, whether they accepted that he was a Fascist or not. But all in all very engrossing and powerful if not a little unbelievable here and there. I think there's always a bit of truth in there somewhere. Particularly loved a passage laying out the reasoning behind "kaputt". Very interesting. He did some incredible things and made some deep observations, but it would have been much more satisfying if he had copped to some of his own culpability at the time rather than revising history when the war's outcome became clear.
quintusmarcus's review against another edition
4.0
Curzio Malaparte's Kaputt is genre-bending house of horrors. Derived from his WWII dispatches for Corriere della Sera, Malaparte provides not only sickening eyewitness accounts from the eastern front, but from the dinner tables of the Nazi governors. Originally a follower of Mussolini, Malaparte fell afoul of the dictator and ended up in prison. Weaseling his way out, Malaparte became friendly with Mussolini's son-in-law Galeazzo Ciano, who helped set him up as a war correspondent. Malaparte visited and reported from Yugoslavia, Romania, Poland, the Soviet Union, Finland, and Sweden.
Kaputt is strange hybrid: although based on his war reports for the paper, there is much imaginative writing, particularly in the various conversations. It's impossible to tell what is fact and what is fiction, although his descriptions of specific events (such as the massacre at Jassy/Iasi) are clearly factual. Malaparte's distant and disdainful observations are simultaneously hilarious and hair-raising: his report, for example, of a dinner with high officials of the German occupation of Poland is particularly remarkable. The Governor-General blandly describes the filthy conditions of the Warsaw ghetto, saying a German could never live under such conditions. Of course, Malaparte remarks: the Germans are a civilized people.
Malaparte moves from city to city, cataloguing the horrors and inhumanity with frequently ironic detachment. It's often hard to stomach, but Malaparte's observations are detailed, brilliant, and penetrating. Tough book to read, but much value for those that can take it.
Kaputt is strange hybrid: although based on his war reports for the paper, there is much imaginative writing, particularly in the various conversations. It's impossible to tell what is fact and what is fiction, although his descriptions of specific events (such as the massacre at Jassy/Iasi) are clearly factual. Malaparte's distant and disdainful observations are simultaneously hilarious and hair-raising: his report, for example, of a dinner with high officials of the German occupation of Poland is particularly remarkable. The Governor-General blandly describes the filthy conditions of the Warsaw ghetto, saying a German could never live under such conditions. Of course, Malaparte remarks: the Germans are a civilized people.
Malaparte moves from city to city, cataloguing the horrors and inhumanity with frequently ironic detachment. It's often hard to stomach, but Malaparte's observations are detailed, brilliant, and penetrating. Tough book to read, but much value for those that can take it.
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