Citim impreuna JULIO CORTAZAR

Sambata, 6.06 (hm hm), am hotarat in urma balotajului sa citim impreuna www.polirom.ro/catalog/carte/manuscris-gasit-intr-un-buzunar-si-alte-povestiri-1459/" target="_blank">Manuscris gasit intr-un buzunar.


Spor la citit!

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You cannot both dance and not pay the piper.

liadorian spune:

Multumim, Mihaelka!

Am scris si dincolo, la organizatorice: termenul de citit e pana pe 20 iunie. Cine vrea insa, poate sa inceapa sa posteze aici pe masura ce citeste. Fiecaruia, dupa plac!

beshter spune:

Ca sa va fac pofta, iata povestirea 'Continuitatea parcurilor' (Conchita, ziceai ca vrei sa citesti acum. E doar pentru 'foamea mica' (cum spune prietena mea nemtoaica), pentru foamea a mare, va poftesc sa parcurgeti (cea mai mare parte din) lista pe care o pun in mesajul urmator.


JULIO CORTAZAR
Continuity of Parks

He had begun to read the novel a few days before. He had put it down because of some urgent business conferences, opened it again on his way back to the estate by train; he permitted himself a slowly growing interest in the plot, in the characterisations. That afternoon, after writing a letter giving his power of attorney and discussing a matter of joint ownership with the manager of his estate, he returned to the book in the tranquillity of his study which looked out upon the park with its oaks. Sprawled in his favourite armchair, its back toward the door – even the possibility of an intrusion would have irritated him, had he thought of it – he let his left hand caress repeatedly the green velvet upholstery and set to reading the final chapters. He remembered effortlessly the names and his mental image of the characters; the novel spread its glamour over him almost at once. He tasted the almost perverse pleasure of disengaging himself line by line from the things around him, and at the same time feeling his head rest comfortably on the green velvet of the chair with its high back, sensing that the cigarettes rested within reach of his hand, that beyond the great windows the air of afternoon danced under the oak trees in the park. Word by word, licked up by the sordid dilemma of the hero and heroine, letting himself be absorbed to the point where the images settled down and took on colour and movement, he was witness to the final encounter in the mountain cabin. The woman arrived first, apprehensive; now the lover came in, his face cut by the backlash of a branch. Admirably, she stanched the blood with her kisses, but he rebuffed her caresses, he had not come to perform again the ceremonies of a secret passion, protected by a world of dry leaves and furtive paths trough the forest. The dagger warmed itself against his chest, and underneath liberty pounded, hidden close. A lustful, panting dialogue raced down the pages alike a rivulet of snakes, and one felt it had all been decided from eternity. Even to those caresses which writhed about the lover’s body, as though wishing to keep him there, to dissuade him from it; they sketched abominably the frame of that other body it was necessary to destroy. Nothing had been forgotten: alibis, unforeseen hazards, possible mistakes. From this hour on, each instant had its use minutely assigned. The cold-blooded, twice-gone-over re-examination of the details was barely broken off so that a hand could caress a cheek. It was beginning to get dark.
Not looking at one another now, rigidly fixed upon the task which awaited them, they separated at the cabin door. She was to follow the trail that led north. On the path leading in the opposite direction, he turned for a moment to watch her running, her hair loosened and flying. He ran in turn, crouching among the trees and hedges until, in the yellowish fog of dusk, he could distinguish the avenue of trees which led up to the house. The dogs were not supposed to bark, they did not bark. The estate manager would not be there at this hour, and he was not there. He went up the three porch steps and entered. The woman’s words reached him over the thudding of blood in his ears: first a blue chamber, then a hall, then a carpeted stairway. At the top, two doors. No one in the first room, no one in the second. The door of the salon and then, the knife in hand, the light from the great windows, the high back of an armchair covered in green velvet, the head of the man in the chair reading a novel.



You cannot both dance and not pay the piper.

beshter spune:

Lista de lecturi cortazariene obligatorii si foarte obligatorii:

Continuitatea parcurilor (vedeti mai sus)
Menadele
Raul (adica el rio)
Idolul cicladelor
Axolot
Sfarsitul jocului
Sanatatea celor bolnavi
Insula la amiaza
Toate focurile, focul
Autostrada din sud
Casa ocupata
Bestiar
Funigei (asta e aia dupa care s-a facut 'Blow-up')
Gat de pisicuta neagra


Edit: lista la care adaug - for further study and reference - excelentele 'Sotron' si 'Cartea lui Manuel'.


You cannot both dance and not pay the piper.

lilanda spune:

Cotinuitatea parcurilor e preferata mea din Cortazar!! Suprarealism curat; o esenta de Borges, Nabokov si Villa Matas la un loc. Superb

Imi place proza scurta a lui Cortazar, imi plac modul si diversitatea cu care "expune" realitatea la fanastic. O "exporta", ca sa zic asa :) Ce n-am gustat la el, in schimb, a fost jocul experimental cu forma. Sotron, de exemplu, nu m-a impresionat deloc. Cred insa ca am eu o inapetenta pentru astfel de experimente, din moment ce nici "Daca intr-o noapte de iarna.." a lui Calvino nu mi-a placut

Revin cu o alta preferinta: "Instructiuni pentru John Howell" (parca din "Toate focurile, Focul").

beshter spune:

Lilanda, morituri te salutant!

Ma bucur foarte tare de prezenta ta la subiectul asta si de ce tocmai spusesi despre Cortazar.




You cannot both dance and not pay the piper.

iarina spune:

Favoritele mele sunt Toate focurile,focul si Sfarsitul jocului.
Recitesc impreuna cu voi povestirile lui. Este a nu stiu cata oara cand recitesc Sfarsitului jocului si nu ma mai satur.

beshter spune:

Maine plec din Buc - ma intorc duminica viitoare. M-am gandit sa dau raportul ca sa nu va mirati ca nu mai dau pe la subect.

Imi iau cartea cu mine si voi scrie impresii proaspete imediat ce ma intorc.

Spor la citit!


You cannot both dance and not pay the piper.

Ingrid S spune:

Ei bine, ma bag eu sa scriu despre Cortazar.
Mi-am tocit creierii aseara sa-mi amintesc un autor care scrie aproape fara intreruperi, intr-un ritm alert si tot mai incitant, pana la un final surprinzator: Michel Butor cu Renuntarea.
La Casa ocupata n-am avut finalul, dar e mai interesant asa, pentru ca mi l-am imaginat eu, acum sa vad care e, daca sunt fete sa ne spuna si noua. Am sa revin cu comentariul de indata ce stiu si sfarsitul.
Menadele e de departe favorita mea, practic am ramas cu o imagine halucinanta a femeii din rosu, culoarea sangelui, culoarea crimei, iar limba trecuta peste buze, usor atatator, usor satisfacut, revela Fiara.
Sfarsitul jocului nu mi-a placut, si nici Manuscris gasit intr-un buzunar, nu le comentez...dar Axolot e magnifica, inversiunea om-animal, senzatia de deja-vu si stilizarea delicata a frazei mi-a facut o impresie de neuitat. Noaptea, cu fata spre cer, e cumplita, ireala, fantomatica si stranie...mi-a produs senzatia ca as fi inchisa intr-un timp indepartat ca intr-un cosciug, fara sa respir, fara sa ma eliberez din cosmar.
Deocamdata atat.

Ingrid S si Diana
www.dropshots.com/Ingrid28_photo" target="_blank"> FILME 1
www.dropshots.com/Ingrid28photo" target="_blank"> FILME 2
www.dropshots.com/Ingrid28photo1" target="_blank"> FILME 3


Cativa nebuni si-au spus la masa: "Numai noi formam aici lumea buna". Si lumea ii crede.
Vauvenargues

liadorian spune:

Booon... Daca-o Cortazar, iata-ma-s! Eu pe Cortazar a trebuit de fiecare data, nu stiu de ce, sa-l citesc cu ritual. Am cautat semn de carte fain si m-am tot sclifosit ca nu gasesc ceva "cortazarian". N-am gasit!! Am rascolit netul dupa fotografii cu el, si nu ma decid care-mi place mai mult: www.juliocortazar.com.ar/images/porta28.htm" target="_blank">asta, sau www.juliocortazar.com.ar/images/porta6.htm" target="_blank">asta, sau care?! am tot ascultat inregistrari cu el (si apoi un pic de Cohen si iar Cortazar) si caut muzici care sa mearga cu proza lui. Idei?

Acu e musai sa ma apuc de citit serios. O sa incep cu Graffiti, un text pe care-l am intr-o alta antologie (in Cat de mult o iubim pe Glenda, de la Editura ALLFA, 1998). Prin liceu aproape il invatasem pe de rost, iar azi am descoperit ca s-ar fi facut si-un film dupa el - Furia. Daca l-as putea gasi, daca l-as putea gasi!!!

Ingrid S spune:

Continuitatea parcurilor. E atat de scurta povestirea, incat te intrebi uimit ce s-a intamplat, o recitesti sa vezi daca editorul a scapat vreun rand care sa-ti arate ca nu e posibil sa se intample ceea ce tocmai s-a intamplat. Un fantastic delirant, in care usor, fara sa realizezi ce si cum, se face trecerea de la real la imaginar, pana se impletesc atat de bine, se sudeaza ca o incolacire a serpilor, care-i de fapt inceputul si care-i sfarsitul?
O alta povestire, ceva mai sumbra, mai plina de angoase, Scoala, in timpul noptii, aici totul se defasoara curgator, doi baieti curiosi de forma, tacerea scolii pe timp de noapte, ca dezgolita de prezenta copiilor, vor o aventura, vor sa infranga acea temere de zi cu zi.
Se trezesc aruncati haotic intr-o lume cunoscuta si totusi nu, reala si totusi nu, in care valentele s-au schimbat, baietii se transforma in fete, iar singura fata, o profesoara isi schimba timiditatea de zi cu caracterul vampei noptatice. Travestiti, masti si haine ciudate, baieti dansand languros unul cu altul, aceasta e lumea isterica in care se gasesc si din care nu pot scapa. Scena cu cainele sacrificat in acvariu o precede pe cea a baiatului imbrancit, lovit, totul intr-un ritual extatic si totodata scabros. Ca o finalitate, vine si experienta sexuala cu vampa, garantie a tacerii, initierii??
Si, sfarsitul e ca un aer rece, cutremurator de rece, nuu, nu e gasit mort Nito, nici sfasiat, nici amnezic....e spaima cruda a realitatii, asta e cel mai previzibil ca se poate intampla intr-o astfel de societate...tacere si acceptarea unui cod, unei altfel de valori morale.
Seamana cu Menadele, tot un vartej al nebuniei, o nebunie partiala, ce-i drept.

Ingrid S si Diana
www.dropshots.com/Ingrid28_photo" target="_blank"> FILME 1
www.dropshots.com/Ingrid28photo" target="_blank"> FILME 2
www.dropshots.com/Ingrid28photo1" target="_blank"> FILME 3


Cativa nebuni si-au spus la masa: "Numai noi formam aici lumea buna". Si lumea ii crede.
Vauvenargues