A review by grgrhnt
A Sorrow Beyond Dreams by Peter Handke
4.0
There is a selfishness in all writing about the deaths of our beloved. In most cases, the writing comes from the intent to 'cure the sadness' that we feel. But writing cannot be done from such a premise and not be deemed self centered. Because we will be writing about ourselves, about what the dear departed meant to us. Never about what the person was like, as an individual unattached to us.
A Sorrow Beyond Dreams stands apart in this regard. It isn't about the death of the author's mother and how that death reflects on his life, but rather it is about the mother herself. About her life written about the meager information that is shared between parents and children. But is it possible to go on such a venture and not stray away from the our intentions? Can we write about a person without having ever cared for them? It cannot be so. And so the author declares his intentions in the beginning of the book that he is writing indeed to rid himself of the dull speechless that takes hold on the people (particularly men) in times of grief.
The reader will have no trouble in seeing that the mother's life had been like a prison she told herself was good for her. There are dreams of youth crushed by circumstance and culture. We see a domestic woman not suited for domestic life. She had contended herself later in life- a poor life, but the crushed dreams seared into her psyche and the remainder of her failure is just below the surface. As she approached old age, her body is assailed with pains of all sorts. In such times, every person will think about the future and what it holds for them. Having concluded slowly, the future is still the same as the present-loneliness, regret, monotony- she decides that it is time for the end. And the end too comes in a dignified manner. She readies herself, does her nails, wears diapers so the living won't be ashamed of her death's stench.
In all of that, there is very little involvement of the author. He writes the story of his mother and very briefly includes himself where it seems appropriate. The reader will feel his hurt though. There is blame in his distended writing, some of it against himself, although maybe he didn't know it at the time of writing.
A very sad life is related with clear intention of delivering that sadness. The book succeeds there. But there is more to be extracted. I like to call them The Male Feminists, although some could just address them as Feminists in denial. The Male Feminist is a man who believes in the tenets of feminism... and that's about the extent of their feminism. They don't realize that that isn't enough. Being men- and I'm speaking in general here- they don't realize that if they are not implicit like those suppress women, then they are complicit because they are clearly enjoying the comforts such suppression gives them. There's a distinct idea that the author blames culture for not giving the education his mother begged for, for limiting her to feminine jobs, for restraining her with children (she clearly didn't what to have them, this will be apparent in the book). If the culture allowed her to pursue her dreams whichever they were, then it could be that the mother couldn't have committed suicide. She could have suffered through the pain because her life had been full of adventure and maybe there is adventure in the future. The author is probing enough to understand her failures and her regrets and he surely saw her there was something wrong about the world for tying her down such a way. By writing about her confinement to the kitchen and the house, with an abusive husband, perhaps there is a guilt that he feels. The blame comes in the form of not doing enough for her, for not helping her in the kitchen, for not standing up to the drunkard. A blame most sons can share, even in these times.
A Sorrow Beyond Dreams stands apart in this regard. It isn't about the death of the author's mother and how that death reflects on his life, but rather it is about the mother herself. About her life written about the meager information that is shared between parents and children. But is it possible to go on such a venture and not stray away from the our intentions? Can we write about a person without having ever cared for them? It cannot be so. And so the author declares his intentions in the beginning of the book that he is writing indeed to rid himself of the dull speechless that takes hold on the people (particularly men) in times of grief.
The reader will have no trouble in seeing that the mother's life had been like a prison she told herself was good for her. There are dreams of youth crushed by circumstance and culture. We see a domestic woman not suited for domestic life. She had contended herself later in life- a poor life, but the crushed dreams seared into her psyche and the remainder of her failure is just below the surface. As she approached old age, her body is assailed with pains of all sorts. In such times, every person will think about the future and what it holds for them. Having concluded slowly, the future is still the same as the present-loneliness, regret, monotony- she decides that it is time for the end. And the end too comes in a dignified manner. She readies herself, does her nails, wears diapers so the living won't be ashamed of her death's stench.
In all of that, there is very little involvement of the author. He writes the story of his mother and very briefly includes himself where it seems appropriate. The reader will feel his hurt though. There is blame in his distended writing, some of it against himself, although maybe he didn't know it at the time of writing.
A very sad life is related with clear intention of delivering that sadness. The book succeeds there. But there is more to be extracted. I like to call them The Male Feminists, although some could just address them as Feminists in denial. The Male Feminist is a man who believes in the tenets of feminism... and that's about the extent of their feminism. They don't realize that that isn't enough. Being men- and I'm speaking in general here- they don't realize that if they are not implicit like those suppress women, then they are complicit because they are clearly enjoying the comforts such suppression gives them. There's a distinct idea that the author blames culture for not giving the education his mother begged for, for limiting her to feminine jobs, for restraining her with children (she clearly didn't what to have them, this will be apparent in the book). If the culture allowed her to pursue her dreams whichever they were, then it could be that the mother couldn't have committed suicide. She could have suffered through the pain because her life had been full of adventure and maybe there is adventure in the future. The author is probing enough to understand her failures and her regrets and he surely saw her there was something wrong about the world for tying her down such a way. By writing about her confinement to the kitchen and the house, with an abusive husband, perhaps there is a guilt that he feels. The blame comes in the form of not doing enough for her, for not helping her in the kitchen, for not standing up to the drunkard. A blame most sons can share, even in these times.