Recently, I got a comment on one of my blog posts that the level of my English is terrible. To be honest, the comment went something like that "Oh, God, this is some bad English." Of course, it is. What do you expect from an Eastern European like me, who has studied only 3 years in the UK (in bad English, OMG!) and who is now studying in France (in the same bad English!). I cannot go on with the difficulties I have with this terrible language, called English. I have to memorize all of my lectures without knowing what they are about. I don't have any friends because they all speak this terrible language (English is it?) and I simply cannot memorize the words needed in social conversations. I don't read in English (ok, I don't understand it) and I write in this blog thanks to the generous help of Google translate (God bless it!)
So now, since I don't know English at all, I am going to post a blog in Bulgarian. I am sorry for all of my English speaking readers (if there are such since obviously I don't speak their language!).
Now to the serious part. The second part of Words of Wisdom (i.e memorable quotes I have written down) comes in Bulgarian because I do mostly read novels in Bulgarian. Hence, most of the quotes I love, are indeed in my mother language. Yes, I know I can go through the fuss of translating them but that ruins the whole point of it. I picked them up exactly because I liked the way they sounded in Bulgarian. So if you are not a Bulgarian, you better close this window now because I promise you, there is no way you can understand what I am talking about (with the slight exception of you being a Russian or a Serbian with an extensive knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet).
"Това е бедата на хората, които винаги казват истината. Смятат, че и другите са като тях."
"Ловецът на хвърчила" - Халед Хосейни
"Как безупречна изглеждаше любовта, а след туй дойдоха белите."
"Ловецът на хвърчила" - Халед Хосейни
"Тя каза: Толкова се страхувам.
-Защо? - попитах аз, а тя отговори: Защото съм толкова безгранично щастлива, доктор Раоул. Плаши ме това щастие.
Пак я попитах защо и тя рече: Позволяват ти да бъдеш толкова щастлив само ако се канят да ти отнемат нещо."
"Ловецът на хвърчила" - Халед Хосейни
"Вие сте прекалено нещастна, за да бъдете хубава"
"Биография на глада" - Амели Нотомб
"Оставете любовта на мира. Използвате я за оправдание, за защита, за мотивация, за всичко. Любовта това, любовта онова. Поредната масова психоза. Бедно и не на място ми звучи думата "любов" на всяка крачка. Любовни подбуди - чисти и неегоистични? Хайде стига толкова. Любовта не е чаршаф да я постилате всеки ден с повод и без повод. Когато ми кажеш, че го правиш от любов, чувам нищото."
"...тази млада жена, която толкова дълго е страдала мълчаливо, тази добра жена, която отказва да повярва, че е добра, защото само добрите се съмняват в добротата си и това повече от всичко ги прави добри. Защото лошите, те си знаят, че са лоши, докато добрите не знаят нищо подобно. Те цял живот прощават на другите, но не могат да простят на себе си."
"Мъж на тъмно" - Пол Остър
"Но не трябва да обичаме така пестеливо и набързо сякаш от страх, че после можем да обикнем по-силно."
"Доктор Живаго" - Борис Пастернак
"Да се "вселиш" в едо момиче така че изцяло да го завладееш е изкуство, а да се "изселиш" от него - шедьовър. Последното обаче до голяма степен зависи от първото."
"Дневник на прелъстителя" - Сьорен Киркегор
"Мисленете, казва един мой приятел, мисленето е нещо много трудно и не може всеки да дилетанства в него както си иска. Той никога не би седнал да изсвири соната за фортепиано, защото не може. Ала всеки смята, че може да мисли и се хвърля да мисли безспир."
"-Закъсали сте. Мисля, че Ви се е появила душа.
-Това е много опасно.
-Неизлечимо."
"Ние" - Евгени Замятин
"Откакто се помня умирам от глад. Произлизам от заможна среда, вкъщи никога не е липсвало нищо. Това ме навежда на мисълта, че моят глад е специфичен - той е социално необясним. Нека уточня също, че гладът ми трябва да се разбира в широк смисъл - ако беше просто глад за храна, положението нямаше да е толкова сериозно. Впрочем съществува ли само глад за храна? Може ли стомашния глад да не е израз на един общ глад? Под глад разбирам ужасяващата нужда от нещо, изптивана от цялото същество, мъчителното усещане за вакуум, стремежът не толкова към утопичната насита, колкото към простата реалност - там където няма нищо, да се появи нещо.
"Биография на глада" - Амели Нотомб
"Проблемът на света е, че глупавите са самоуверени, а умните винаги се колебаят."
"Имах чувството, че хората идват и си отиват, раждат се и умират, но книгите са вечни. И като малък мечтаех да стана книга. Не писател - хората мряха като мухи и писателите не правеха изключение. Но не и книгите. Колкото и систематично да ги изтребваш, винаги има вероятност някой екземпляр да оцелее и да продължи да се наслаждава на живота от някоя лавица в ъгъла на забравена от Бога библиотека."
"История за любов и мрак" - Амос Оз
"Ние сме построили тази клетка наречена цивилизация, понеже имаме способността да мислим, а сега трябва да мислим понеже сме хванати в собствената си клетка."
"Пилето" - Уилям Уортън
"-Никога не съм се влюбвал. В това е моето нещастие."
-Аз пък никога не мога да остана влюбен, а това е по-страшно."
Фредерик Бегбеде
Thats all for now. I have many more, most of which are Erich Maria Remarque's. I feel, however, he deserves a separate post, simply because he is great.
Showing posts with label William Wharton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Wharton. Show all posts
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Thursday, 26 January 2012
Birdy by William Wharton - A F(l)ight for the ideal life
I have always lived in three states of time - the past, the future, and the dream. The past I use for recreational purposes - when I want to cry I think of all sorrows and disappointments; when I want to smile I cherish all those moments when I acted out of myself, when I committed a "crime" against society's opinion, which ultimately made me feel like a God. The future I usually imagine in bright (very) colors after that second bottle of wine, when I make promises I am never going to fulfill and when getting that next step to perfection (which so far is the aim of my life) seems so easy. The dreams I value the most. In them I am not bounded by what happened in the past or by how this is going to affect my future. In my dreams I can be anywhere I want; I can change patterns; I can invent new ways; I can transform time and space; I can even transform people to suit my dreams. In dreams I accomplish something neither the past nor the future can give me. I accomplish freedom. Freedom of society's rules, of people's expectations, of daily obligations, of parents' judgements, of even my friends' judgements. I can be free out there. Trivial, but free as a bird.
When I read Birdy by William Wharton I instantly felt this was my book. It takes place in the past and in the dreams and it merely discusses prospects of the future. But it never stays in the present. The present is filled with despair, loneliness, grief, and suffering. What counts is the past and our dreams of a better present. Upon these two sort of realities the friendship between two opposing characters is revealed. Al is the strong, the wrestler, the fighter who looks at ways to conquer the world, to get revenge at some imaginary (or not) enemy, to be unbeatable. Birdy, his best friend, is different. Throughout his childhood and teens he is obsessed with canaries. He is one of those weird people you see with a strange obsession. Birdy's infatuation with birds, though, is more than an obsession. For him this is a way to escape the meticulous, unfair, and lonely life and to get closer to his ideal - to fly. His greatest happiness comes from breading canaries, from endlessly observing their lifestyle and habitat, from helping them mate, from listening to their songs, and most importantly - from learning how to fly like them. Throughout the years Birdy's obsession increases - he now dreams of being a bird. The present is no longer a desirable present for him; he prefers his dream life, where he acts, eats, sleeps, reproduces, and flies as a canary. The two realities coincide simultaneously in his mind, leading to a deep confusion and a mental illness.
Those two opposite characters remain friends despite their differences until they are separated by WWII. I wouldn't go into much detail as to what war does to people; I think I've discussed that quite extensively in Remarque's fiction. What I would say, though, is Al and Birdy return damaged from the war. One physically, the other one mentally. Al is hit severely in the head and in the stomach and returns from the battlefield, much to his own delight. Wharton here gives us the real world - the one where soldiers are afraid to death on the battlefield; the one where they dream of returning safely; the one where bravery and glory are substituted by fear and simple sense of self-protection. Birdy returns from the war under Catch 8 - he believes and he acts as if he is a bird and is thus trapped in a mental institution. Al is called in to help his childhood friend remember he is just a human. The other reality emerges - the stories of the past Al keeps telling his friend are both simple but powerful proofs of a friendship that doesn't make sense on the outside, but fits perfectly on the inside. Both trapped in their own inquisition, Birdy and Al are looking for ways to continue their life in a world, where despair and desolation are predominant, and where love and compassion are forbidden words.
What I loved about the novel are the birds. Birdy's experience in raising, observing, and learning from the canaries spans more than half of the book. And I get to think - are there more similarities or differences between birds and people? Birds (as people) are born helpless, without any skin to protect them. Their parents take care of them, learning them how to fly, how to eat, how to interact, and how to sing. Birds try flying so many times; they fall constantly, yet they continue trying until they succeed. Not all birds are meant to fly and to sing though; only the toughest, the persistant, the never giving-up are the ones who are able to see the sky within limits. Birds mate and love as well. The male chases, the female runs. Then they both take care of the family until the little ones are big enough to leave the nest and take care of themselves. But birds are different in one aspect - they are free and they can fly. They are not bounded by any rules, any prejudices, any judgements. They see the sky and they take it. Life is simple without complications, without too much thought, without asking the inevitable "why" questions. Unlike humans, who used their brain to construct a cage they now call civilization and are now using that same brain to try and escape from it. In that sense, can you blame Birdy's obsession and his desire to be a bird and not a human? Can you really not envy the canaries? Can't you see how simple everything could be if only we could be free. Not only by society, but free from ourselves. Because everyone has its own cage of inquisitions - and it is usually the head.
PS: The present shouldn't be considered in reading this review or this novel. The present is only there so that we can remember the past and dream of another world. Nothing else.
When I read Birdy by William Wharton I instantly felt this was my book. It takes place in the past and in the dreams and it merely discusses prospects of the future. But it never stays in the present. The present is filled with despair, loneliness, grief, and suffering. What counts is the past and our dreams of a better present. Upon these two sort of realities the friendship between two opposing characters is revealed. Al is the strong, the wrestler, the fighter who looks at ways to conquer the world, to get revenge at some imaginary (or not) enemy, to be unbeatable. Birdy, his best friend, is different. Throughout his childhood and teens he is obsessed with canaries. He is one of those weird people you see with a strange obsession. Birdy's infatuation with birds, though, is more than an obsession. For him this is a way to escape the meticulous, unfair, and lonely life and to get closer to his ideal - to fly. His greatest happiness comes from breading canaries, from endlessly observing their lifestyle and habitat, from helping them mate, from listening to their songs, and most importantly - from learning how to fly like them. Throughout the years Birdy's obsession increases - he now dreams of being a bird. The present is no longer a desirable present for him; he prefers his dream life, where he acts, eats, sleeps, reproduces, and flies as a canary. The two realities coincide simultaneously in his mind, leading to a deep confusion and a mental illness.
Those two opposite characters remain friends despite their differences until they are separated by WWII. I wouldn't go into much detail as to what war does to people; I think I've discussed that quite extensively in Remarque's fiction. What I would say, though, is Al and Birdy return damaged from the war. One physically, the other one mentally. Al is hit severely in the head and in the stomach and returns from the battlefield, much to his own delight. Wharton here gives us the real world - the one where soldiers are afraid to death on the battlefield; the one where they dream of returning safely; the one where bravery and glory are substituted by fear and simple sense of self-protection. Birdy returns from the war under Catch 8 - he believes and he acts as if he is a bird and is thus trapped in a mental institution. Al is called in to help his childhood friend remember he is just a human. The other reality emerges - the stories of the past Al keeps telling his friend are both simple but powerful proofs of a friendship that doesn't make sense on the outside, but fits perfectly on the inside. Both trapped in their own inquisition, Birdy and Al are looking for ways to continue their life in a world, where despair and desolation are predominant, and where love and compassion are forbidden words.
What I loved about the novel are the birds. Birdy's experience in raising, observing, and learning from the canaries spans more than half of the book. And I get to think - are there more similarities or differences between birds and people? Birds (as people) are born helpless, without any skin to protect them. Their parents take care of them, learning them how to fly, how to eat, how to interact, and how to sing. Birds try flying so many times; they fall constantly, yet they continue trying until they succeed. Not all birds are meant to fly and to sing though; only the toughest, the persistant, the never giving-up are the ones who are able to see the sky within limits. Birds mate and love as well. The male chases, the female runs. Then they both take care of the family until the little ones are big enough to leave the nest and take care of themselves. But birds are different in one aspect - they are free and they can fly. They are not bounded by any rules, any prejudices, any judgements. They see the sky and they take it. Life is simple without complications, without too much thought, without asking the inevitable "why" questions. Unlike humans, who used their brain to construct a cage they now call civilization and are now using that same brain to try and escape from it. In that sense, can you blame Birdy's obsession and his desire to be a bird and not a human? Can you really not envy the canaries? Can't you see how simple everything could be if only we could be free. Not only by society, but free from ourselves. Because everyone has its own cage of inquisitions - and it is usually the head.
PS: The present shouldn't be considered in reading this review or this novel. The present is only there so that we can remember the past and dream of another world. Nothing else.
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