whogivesabook's review against another edition
2.0
I usually love mini essays like this.
Take one talented writer and two seemingly disparate topics, then settle in for a little time. You'll soon find that the two topics have been paired and grafted using some intellectual contrivance that bamboozles you, initially, but soon brainwashes you into that state few dare to allow: open-mindedness. A light goes on and your perspective shifts.
So what happened here?
Well it was all going swimmingly until he started ranting about Christ. And intellectually he was making sense. But the longer it went on for the more it just felt like he had an axe to grind. He clearly finds the notion of God quite objectionable and revelled in highlighting the Bible's contractions. He compares Orpheus and Christ. Preferring Orpheus's love. Why not Lot, whose 'turning back' is such a clear parallel? I mean, the point was that Christ's experience of death was 'theatre' or 'propaganda' for his mission to make believers. As death had no power over him. Where Orpheus travelled into death, whilst living and thereby risking death, to negotiate for one soul. I get it. But why bring up a guy who can't die and never loved (eros) in an essay like this? It's just as a whipping boy and little else. A lot could have been made (pun intended) of Lot's love for God despite the catastrophes he endured. His lost wife not the particular focus of his true love. Where for Orpheus, even with Eurydice being his sole focus, he lost her in a similar fashion. Oh well...
I'm not a Christian, but I've read the Bible many times. The issue is, Süskind seems to really believe in Christ and yet takes glee in the inconsistencies. Oh, he'll tell you he is an atheist; but he'll still argue like God's in the room. (Note to self: I should write a song with that line in!)
I've met so many people like this. Usually from a strict Christian upbringing and they're bitter about it. In later life they take delight in tearing into the sacred. It's like when you meet a misogynist and he starts going on a rant about women being evil and then, after a few pints, confesses he just wants to be held by one.
There's love of God in this essay, despite himself. Vulnerability because of it. It isn't desired, but it lingers. Seems to drive him mad. And for all his protestations, he never carried himself away from that place of vulnerability. No matter how much he argued against it. No matter how much he tried to rip it apart, I still felt it had a hold over him.
The final words of Jesus are threefold and he points this out and yet still decides to make special focus of one iteration. Wouldn't you just realise that, with the record unreliable, it is futile to build a case against Jesus using one of those instabilities? Why point to those particular final words and make a big deal of them when you have two contradictory accounts of his final words that are irrelevant to your position? Besides which, to play Jesus's advocate, he might have uttered every line before passing away anyway.
Nothing was really gained from this book as a result. It was just a rant. And a damned shame. For a better exploration of the topics and their interrelation read Knausgård. Particularly on society's shift away from encountering death over the last few centuries. He's not a perfect writer about things either but it was more enjoyable for me and he wasn't as ranty.
Take one talented writer and two seemingly disparate topics, then settle in for a little time. You'll soon find that the two topics have been paired and grafted using some intellectual contrivance that bamboozles you, initially, but soon brainwashes you into that state few dare to allow: open-mindedness. A light goes on and your perspective shifts.
So what happened here?
Well it was all going swimmingly until he started ranting about Christ. And intellectually he was making sense. But the longer it went on for the more it just felt like he had an axe to grind. He clearly finds the notion of God quite objectionable and revelled in highlighting the Bible's contractions. He compares Orpheus and Christ. Preferring Orpheus's love. Why not Lot, whose 'turning back' is such a clear parallel? I mean, the point was that Christ's experience of death was 'theatre' or 'propaganda' for his mission to make believers. As death had no power over him. Where Orpheus travelled into death, whilst living and thereby risking death, to negotiate for one soul. I get it. But why bring up a guy who can't die and never loved (eros) in an essay like this? It's just as a whipping boy and little else. A lot could have been made (pun intended) of Lot's love for God despite the catastrophes he endured. His lost wife not the particular focus of his true love. Where for Orpheus, even with Eurydice being his sole focus, he lost her in a similar fashion. Oh well...
I'm not a Christian, but I've read the Bible many times. The issue is, Süskind seems to really believe in Christ and yet takes glee in the inconsistencies. Oh, he'll tell you he is an atheist; but he'll still argue like God's in the room. (Note to self: I should write a song with that line in!)
I've met so many people like this. Usually from a strict Christian upbringing and they're bitter about it. In later life they take delight in tearing into the sacred. It's like when you meet a misogynist and he starts going on a rant about women being evil and then, after a few pints, confesses he just wants to be held by one.
There's love of God in this essay, despite himself. Vulnerability because of it. It isn't desired, but it lingers. Seems to drive him mad. And for all his protestations, he never carried himself away from that place of vulnerability. No matter how much he argued against it. No matter how much he tried to rip it apart, I still felt it had a hold over him.
The final words of Jesus are threefold and he points this out and yet still decides to make special focus of one iteration. Wouldn't you just realise that, with the record unreliable, it is futile to build a case against Jesus using one of those instabilities? Why point to those particular final words and make a big deal of them when you have two contradictory accounts of his final words that are irrelevant to your position? Besides which, to play Jesus's advocate, he might have uttered every line before passing away anyway.
Nothing was really gained from this book as a result. It was just a rant. And a damned shame. For a better exploration of the topics and their interrelation read Knausgård. Particularly on society's shift away from encountering death over the last few centuries. He's not a perfect writer about things either but it was more enjoyable for me and he wasn't as ranty.
schwarzer_elch's review against another edition
4.0
Este libro es una reflexión histórico – social del significado que tienen el amor y la muerte en el mundo moderno. Si bien el libro consta de un solo capítulo, la narrativa de éste está claramente dividida en dos: una parte dedicada al amor y, la otra, lógicamente, dedicada a la muerte.
La parte que gira en torno al amor me pareció mucho más interesante y comprensible que aquella que reflexiona sobre la muerte. Incluso, el autor compara al amor con otras experiencias humanas que nos resultan tan “mundanas” como defecar. Y utilizo las comillas porque el autor pone al mismo nivel la acción de enamorarse y la de defecar, por poner solo un ejemplo.
Se trata de un libro sencillo, sin mayores pretensiones, pero profundo y que invitará al lector a la reflexión. Además, el autor tiene un lenguaje irónico y divertido para explicar de manera simple cosas que pueden ser complicadas, lo cual siempre es un verdadero gol literario.
Está como para leer en una tarde tranquila de relajo y, créanme, vale completamente la pena.
La parte que gira en torno al amor me pareció mucho más interesante y comprensible que aquella que reflexiona sobre la muerte. Incluso, el autor compara al amor con otras experiencias humanas que nos resultan tan “mundanas” como defecar. Y utilizo las comillas porque el autor pone al mismo nivel la acción de enamorarse y la de defecar, por poner solo un ejemplo.
Se trata de un libro sencillo, sin mayores pretensiones, pero profundo y que invitará al lector a la reflexión. Además, el autor tiene un lenguaje irónico y divertido para explicar de manera simple cosas que pueden ser complicadas, lo cual siempre es un verdadero gol literario.
Está como para leer en una tarde tranquila de relajo y, créanme, vale completamente la pena.
beckyisbookish's review against another edition
5.0
Gorgeous, poignant and funny. I'm looking forward to reading more by Süskind.
emilys_bookworld's review against another edition
3.0
A essay you can read in a day: I really liked the structure and arguments but I had some problems concentrating
cristinavulpe's review
5.0
"De ce nu a existat in istoria omenirii un cult al defecarii si al excrementelor, asa cum a existat un cult al sanilor, vaginului si falusului?"
"...toti cei ce scriu sau canta acolo incearca sa dea glas convingerii ca iubirea e ceva ceresc, sublim, mantuitor; iar termenii in care e cantata sau descrisa au pastrat pana in zilele noastre o incarcatura religioasa. Si astfel iubirea se deosebeste suficient de mult de excremente."
E pur si simplu fermecatoare cartea asta, o data pentru ca e vorba de Suskind, pe care il cunosc si care m-a incantat intr-un mod cu totul deosebit, din cauza Parfumului si a Porumbelului, si o data pentru ca e un eseu, si e unul foarte bine scris. In el sunt dezbatute, dupa cum reiese si din titlu, doua teme: iubirea si moartea. Prima este infatisata prin trei exemple, destul de concrete.
In cazul celui dintai, intr-o zi ca oricare alta, scriitorul nostru se trezeste blocat intr-un ambuteiaj, astfel ca, neavand ce face, incepe sa observe soferii din jurul lui. Asa ajunge sa remarce cuplul localizat in masina din fata, care se devoreaza cu o foame si un fanatism duse pana la paroxism, indivizi care nu par sa se poata dezlipi mai mult de cateva minute, unul de celalalt. Diferenta dintre cele doua personaje [ea pare cumintica, stilata si oarecum intelectuala, el are cosuri, e cam buhait, si poarta un cercel de aur in urechea stanga, tinandu-si si piciorul afara, pe portiera, intr-un mod cu totul dezinvolt] nu pare sa-i incurce cu ceva, mai ales cand domnisoara, din cate am inteles din descrierea lui Suskind, se preteaza sa-i ...faca un serviciu in trafic, prietenului ei. Culoarea devine verde, masinile din spatele scriitorului claxoneaza, iar tipul ii arata, ranjind, degetul din mijloc naratorului nostru, desi el fusese, probabil, singurul nevinovat, singurul care nu apelase la semnale sonore pentru a le grabi inaintarea, celor doi amorezi. In consecinta acestui moment, romancierul se intreaba, inevitabil, ce-i uneste pe oameni asa de diferiti, si ce e sentimentul asta, pe care-l numim iubire?
Cel de-al doilea cuplu este reprezentat de o doamna mai in varsta, alaturi de un compozitor roman [nu ii da numele], pe care-i despart 20 de ani, dar care, sa fim seriosi, avand in vedere ca tipul are vreo 50+, nu-s chiar un capat de lume.. Pe parcursul unei cine, se ating vadit de atatea ori, se saruta de atatea ori, si stau intr-atat de apropiati incat se vad nevoiti sa isi uneasca scaunele! Sunt intr-atat de dulci si siroposi, incat iti vine de-a dreptul greata la stomac.
Iar cel de-al treilea exemplu, si, bineinteles, preferatul meu, il infatiseaza pe ditamai Thomas Mann, intr-o excursie cu familia, in cadrul unei sederi la un hotel din Germania. Aici are sansa, sau mai degraba nesansa, sa fie servit, intr-o dupa-amiaza plictisitoare, de un chelner atragator, pentru care face o pasiune nebuneasca, si pe care, ulterior, printr-un schimb asiduu de scrisori, il va ajuta sa emigreze in America. Ce mi-a placut, mai mult sau mai putin, e ca acest monstru sacru, care si-ar fi permis, pana la urma, orice, nu initiaza o aventura extraconjugala cu frumuselul - in schimb, rabda in taina, mistuit de focul interior, tocmai pentru ca ideea ca nu-si va implini niciodata dragostea, o face intr-atat de ideala si perfecta! This I love - I just love. Ar fi putut, foarte bine, sa-si paraseasca nevasta si sa traiasca cu Adonis-ul de mai sus. Nu stiu daca l-ar fi judecat multa lume, pentru ca, pana la urma, era Thomas Mann, ce Dumnezeu. In schimb, el alege sa-i dedice o ofranda absoluta, transformandu-l intr-un personaj de roman. Magnifica poveste. Superba.
Cea de-a doua parte [care trateaza moartea] e ceva mai dark and gloomy, mai ales pentru ca religiosii n-au sa inghita prea bine portiunile care-l infatiseaza pe Iisus Cristos ca fiind un infumurat de cinci stele, care-l invie pe Lazarus doar pentru glorie si putere. This I don't know, and never will know, seeing I always keep my options open, in materie de culte si religii. Tot in aceeasi parte se trateaza, de-a fir a par, povestea lui Orfeu si a Euridicei, alt cuplu bizar, compus dintr-o frumoasa cam prostuta si un dobitoc neincrezator, sau mai degraba, impartasind, aparent, acelasi pacat cu Iisus, un infumurat - el neputand sa se abtina si sa traga cu ochiul daca Euridice il urmeaza spre pamant, din Infern.
I loved it! In curs de maxim doua ore era gata..cu alte activitati pe parcurs, cum ar fi a ma certa cu laptopul, care-mi face figuri din ce in ce mai des, inchizandu-se in mijlocul redactarii unei postari sau a unui e-mail.
"...toti cei ce scriu sau canta acolo incearca sa dea glas convingerii ca iubirea e ceva ceresc, sublim, mantuitor; iar termenii in care e cantata sau descrisa au pastrat pana in zilele noastre o incarcatura religioasa. Si astfel iubirea se deosebeste suficient de mult de excremente."
E pur si simplu fermecatoare cartea asta, o data pentru ca e vorba de Suskind, pe care il cunosc si care m-a incantat intr-un mod cu totul deosebit, din cauza Parfumului si a Porumbelului, si o data pentru ca e un eseu, si e unul foarte bine scris. In el sunt dezbatute, dupa cum reiese si din titlu, doua teme: iubirea si moartea. Prima este infatisata prin trei exemple, destul de concrete.
In cazul celui dintai, intr-o zi ca oricare alta, scriitorul nostru se trezeste blocat intr-un ambuteiaj, astfel ca, neavand ce face, incepe sa observe soferii din jurul lui. Asa ajunge sa remarce cuplul localizat in masina din fata, care se devoreaza cu o foame si un fanatism duse pana la paroxism, indivizi care nu par sa se poata dezlipi mai mult de cateva minute, unul de celalalt. Diferenta dintre cele doua personaje [ea pare cumintica, stilata si oarecum intelectuala, el are cosuri, e cam buhait, si poarta un cercel de aur in urechea stanga, tinandu-si si piciorul afara, pe portiera, intr-un mod cu totul dezinvolt] nu pare sa-i incurce cu ceva, mai ales cand domnisoara, din cate am inteles din descrierea lui Suskind, se preteaza sa-i ...faca un serviciu in trafic, prietenului ei. Culoarea devine verde, masinile din spatele scriitorului claxoneaza, iar tipul ii arata, ranjind, degetul din mijloc naratorului nostru, desi el fusese, probabil, singurul nevinovat, singurul care nu apelase la semnale sonore pentru a le grabi inaintarea, celor doi amorezi. In consecinta acestui moment, romancierul se intreaba, inevitabil, ce-i uneste pe oameni asa de diferiti, si ce e sentimentul asta, pe care-l numim iubire?
Cel de-al doilea cuplu este reprezentat de o doamna mai in varsta, alaturi de un compozitor roman [nu ii da numele], pe care-i despart 20 de ani, dar care, sa fim seriosi, avand in vedere ca tipul are vreo 50+, nu-s chiar un capat de lume.. Pe parcursul unei cine, se ating vadit de atatea ori, se saruta de atatea ori, si stau intr-atat de apropiati incat se vad nevoiti sa isi uneasca scaunele! Sunt intr-atat de dulci si siroposi, incat iti vine de-a dreptul greata la stomac.
Iar cel de-al treilea exemplu, si, bineinteles, preferatul meu, il infatiseaza pe ditamai Thomas Mann, intr-o excursie cu familia, in cadrul unei sederi la un hotel din Germania. Aici are sansa, sau mai degraba nesansa, sa fie servit, intr-o dupa-amiaza plictisitoare, de un chelner atragator, pentru care face o pasiune nebuneasca, si pe care, ulterior, printr-un schimb asiduu de scrisori, il va ajuta sa emigreze in America. Ce mi-a placut, mai mult sau mai putin, e ca acest monstru sacru, care si-ar fi permis, pana la urma, orice, nu initiaza o aventura extraconjugala cu frumuselul - in schimb, rabda in taina, mistuit de focul interior, tocmai pentru ca ideea ca nu-si va implini niciodata dragostea, o face intr-atat de ideala si perfecta! This I love - I just love. Ar fi putut, foarte bine, sa-si paraseasca nevasta si sa traiasca cu Adonis-ul de mai sus. Nu stiu daca l-ar fi judecat multa lume, pentru ca, pana la urma, era Thomas Mann, ce Dumnezeu. In schimb, el alege sa-i dedice o ofranda absoluta, transformandu-l intr-un personaj de roman. Magnifica poveste. Superba.
Cea de-a doua parte [care trateaza moartea] e ceva mai dark and gloomy, mai ales pentru ca religiosii n-au sa inghita prea bine portiunile care-l infatiseaza pe Iisus Cristos ca fiind un infumurat de cinci stele, care-l invie pe Lazarus doar pentru glorie si putere. This I don't know, and never will know, seeing I always keep my options open, in materie de culte si religii. Tot in aceeasi parte se trateaza, de-a fir a par, povestea lui Orfeu si a Euridicei, alt cuplu bizar, compus dintr-o frumoasa cam prostuta si un dobitoc neincrezator, sau mai degraba, impartasind, aparent, acelasi pacat cu Iisus, un infumurat - el neputand sa se abtina si sa traga cu ochiul daca Euridice il urmeaza spre pamant, din Infern.
I loved it! In curs de maxim doua ore era gata..cu alte activitati pe parcurs, cum ar fi a ma certa cu laptopul, care-mi face figuri din ce in ce mai des, inchizandu-se in mijlocul redactarii unei postari sau a unui e-mail.
rainbowbookworm's review
4.0
Loved this essay! The love part was spot on while the death started off slow, it picked back up when it started talking about Jesus.