کتاب نفس بریده

اثر هرتا مولر از انتشارات کتابسرای تندیس - مترجم: مهوش خرمی پور -برندگان جوایز ادبی

داستان كتاب (نفس بريده) دربارۀ اقليت هاي آلماني ساكن روماني است كه پس از خاتمهء جنگ جهاني دوم به درخواست استالين به روسيه تبعيد شدند تا در آنجا براي انجام كارهاي سخت مرتبط با بازسازي بعد از جنگ به كار گرفته شوند و نهايتا سر از اردوگاه هاي كار اجباري روسيه معروف به گولاك درآوردند. مادر نويسنده هم يكي از اين تبعيدي ها بوده كه 5 سال از زندگي خود را در اين اردوگاه ها زندگي كرده.

داستان با اين جملات آغاز مي شود: «دار و ندارم را برمي دارم. يا بهتر است بگويم، همه متعلقاتم را همراه خود مي برم. هر آنچه را كه داشتم، برداشتم. وسايلم چيز زيادي نبود. همه يا مستعمل بودند و يا از ديگران به من رسيده بودند. چمدان چرمي، كه در واقع جعبهء گرامافون بود، پالتوي گل و گشاد كه مال پدر بود و پالتويي دم دستي با نوار مخملي دور يقه اش، كه از پدربزرگ به من رسيده بود. شلوار گشاد به عمو ادوين و ساق بندهاي چرمي به آقاي كارپ همسايه و دستكش هاي پشمي سبز به عمه فيني تعلق داشتند. تنها شال گردن ابريشمي شرابي رنگ و كيف لوازم بهداشتي كه هديهء كريسمس سال گذشته بود، مال خودم بودند.

ژانويهء سال 1945، جنگ هنوز ادامه داشت. با ترس و وحشت از اين كه قرار بود وسط زمستان به ناكجاآبادي نزد روس ها بروم، هر كسي چيزي به من مي داد تا شايد در جايي كه هيچ كمكي نمي رسيد به كارم بيايد. جايي كه هيچ كاري از كسي برنمي آمد. من بدون كمترين ترديدي در ليست روس ها بودم. اين بود كه هر كسي خود را موظف مي دانست تا به سهم خودش، چيزي به من بدهد ...»


خرید کتاب نفس بریده
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معرفی کتاب نفس بریده از نگاه کاربران
Around the World: Romania

I really wanted to like this. It had some impressive moments, some images that caused my stomach to lurch in surprise and I have to give Muller credit for the unique style of this novel. But I just didnt like it. Frankly, I was bored. I couldnt connect to the protagonist, and the level of detail provided about every speck of dust and every scrap of food became wearing and frustrating. There isnt really a moving plot here--just poetic descriptions, images, and microscopic examinations of the minutiae of life in a forced labour camp. I eventually started skipping over huge sections, sometimes entire chapters just to get to the end. I realize that the structure and focus of the book was purposeful. I can appreciate Mullers project--an attempt to capture the bizarre contrast between the mundane and the horrific in the labour camp setting. Starvation takes away humanity, leaving empty husks of people in its wake, so its no surprise that there is no energy in the text, nothing moving. But I could only deal with so many descriptions of lice and potato peels. It was all too depressing. There were very few moments of joy, nothing to give the reader hope, nothing to temper the despair. So, unfortunately, I didnt like this book, and only pressed on because it won the Nobel Prize, otherwise I would have stopped after the first few chapters. I want to stress that I dont think this was bad writing. It may even have been a deeply important book, but I personally wasnt provoked by it.

مشاهده لینک اصلی
роман, який змінює звичні знані нам категорії і в ролі вязня трудового табору на Донбасі опиняються німці. починаєш розуміти, що справа не в ідеї чи нації, а в структурі, яка змінює і перетворює людей на жертв і катів, а потім не дає вирватися назад у нормальне життя і звільнення з табору не означає свободи - бо рутини табору на кшталт танців у деревяних черевиках стали твоїм життям.
попри описи табору, голоду і важкої праці, книжка не безнадійно песимістична, вона радше про те, як не дозволити жахливому досвіду поглинути тебе цілком

مشاهده لینک اصلی
“And we had our mouths, which had grown so high and hollow that our steps echoed inside. A bright void in the skull, as if we’d swallowed too much glaring light. A light that sweetly creeps up your throat and swells and rises to your brain. Until you no longer have a brain inside your head, only the hunger echo. No word was adequate for the suffering caused by hunger. To this day, I have to show hunger that I have escaped his grasp. Ever since I stopped having to go hungry, I literally eat life itself. And when I eat, I am locked up inside the taste of eating”

The Hunger Angel is so quintessentially Mulleresque - a dangerously addictive, narcotic, elegiac style of writing. One cannot skim through The Hunger Angel - you need to plunge into it, explore the agonizing, lyrical depths, and drown in it and then surface – redeemed.
The protagonist Leo - is the finest essence, a distilled arboreal echo of human spirit. He is the narrator and through his often bewildered and sometimes stoic eyes, we see the lives around him crumbling, fading away. One is not repulsed, nor shocked. Through Leo, Muller manages to make the reader enter the labor camp not as an observer but as a fellow sufferer. By travelling through Leo’s thoughts you feel a hushed mellowness growing over you. Words, mere words work such wonders!

“When I have nothing to cook, the smoke snakes in through my mouth. I draw in my tongue and chewed on nothing”

The Hunger Angel is an intensely personal, painful exploration of hunger and what it does to people. It is the depiction of a group of people who are stripped of their dignity, personality and rights within a forced labor-camp. It is not really about what has been taken away from these people but what they replaced it with – the feeling of hunger becomes a monstrous, looming, almost physical entity that teases and tortures them. The only relief is the temporary oblivion that sleep provides. Every possession of theirs becomes infinitely precious used to barter for food or a bit of warm clothing. They are reduced to their most precarious, dehumanized states. How terrible what hate and war can do to people! How many millions destroyed and among those, how many minds and souls as palpably beautiful as Leo’s might have been ruined!
I’d read The Land Of Green Plums and The Passport 2-3 years ago. The English translation of ‘Atemschaukel’ (the German title) was then not available. I remember that the working title for the translation was ‘Everything I Possess, I Carry With Me’. On December 2013, a chance comment by a friend of mine made me look up Muller again and there it was, the English translation of ‘Atemschaukel’ – titled aptly (oh so aptly!) The Hunger Angel. I bought it immediately. It is the first book I read in 2014.


مشاهده لینک اصلی
“Всичко свое нося със себе си”, “Ангелът на глада”, “Люлката на дишането”, “Люлката на гласа”- все различни преводачески решения за заглавието на книгата, ни показват различните приближавания и различните преживявания на света, в който Х. Мюлер ни въвежда. Някак рязко, леко недиректно, с усеащане повече, отколкото с исторически факти, често интуитивно. Не съвсем такова е самото протичане на книгата. Съществуването на героите и на останалите мимоходом споменати или въвлечени хора често се свежда до материалните измерения на бита им. Това пренасищане с конкретното битуване може да е леко задушаваща. Omnia mea mecum porto (всичко свое нося със себе си) - буквално, понеже материалният живот им е отнет и заместен с камерната ограниченост на лагерното пространство; преносно, защото вътрешните притежания, мълчаливите натрупани и некомуникируеми багажи остават с тях дори след края на травматичната действителност. Ангелът на глада е косвеният герой, метафизичният хинтергрунд, който подлага тона на книгата. Той е вездесъщата текстурана повествованието. Той е множествеността, обхващаща героите- всеки по различен начин - читателят, авторът, те самите са посотянно в недоумение дали е само един или всеки от лагерниците си има свой собствен. Дори в постлагерното пространство, вникването в което намирам за великолепно, той е още повече наличен, вече в реформирана ипостаза - в обществената среда, преситена с домашен уют, по думите на Херта Мюлер, ангелът на глада сякаш се обръща с вътрешността си навън, като двулика дреха, за да се присъства вече като Всеобщата Апатия.
Книгата на Херта Мюлер е литературно преживяване от висок порядък. Някак си успява да съчетае характеристиките, за които си мисля, когато видя знака за Нобел - историческа значимост на описаните явления, плътност на представяната среда, изпънат до нажежаващо скъсване език и достатъчно обиграно вникване в отвъдфизическото.


مشاهده لینک اصلی
The Hunger Artist does what great art always does, it creates its own world which only tangentially intersects with our own. It is about a Romanian/German boy who is arrested and shipped to a Russian forced labor camp following World War II. This is a part of European history which is not often examined, but it is not about history, it is about the existential night of people seized out of their own lives and put into the limbo world of camp life. It feels more like Camus than Solzhenitzyn. I still favor The Land of Green Plums, but this book is about art and human existence as Beckett is. Like or dont like, stars etc. have nothing to do with it.

مشاهده لینک اصلی
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