Tämä sivusto käyttää evästeitä palvelujen toimittamiseen, toiminnan parantamiseen, analytiikkaan ja (jos et ole kirjautunut sisään) mainostamiseen. Käyttämällä LibraryThingiä ilmaiset, että olet lukenut ja ymmärtänyt käyttöehdot ja yksityisyydensuojakäytännöt. Sivujen ja palveluiden käytön tulee olla näiden ehtojen ja käytäntöjen mukaista.
Earth is long since dead. On a colony planet, a band of men has gained control of technology, made themselves immortal, and now rule their world as the gods of the Hindu pantheon. Only one dares oppose them: he who was once Siddhartha and is now Mahasamatman. Binder of Demons. Lord of Light.
storyjunkie: Both books carry a philosophical weight to their world-saving. A similar atmosphere to their protagonists, worlds, and occupancy of a more soul-searching lot in the science fiction spectrum make them nicely complementary to each other.
After hearing about this book for decades, I finally got around to reading it. I can see why some people love it. But frankly, its time-shifting narrative structure was so confusing that I was actually tempted to see if my bookmark had fallen out at some point and then been put back in the wrong place. I bulled my way through it, and I'm glad I did so. But it was more of a slog than I would have expected from such a widely hailed SF classic. ( )
First thing I read about this book is that it is little bit convoluted and stories are not told in order so that it might be difficult to follow. Second thing I came across is that one needs to try very hard to follow the story because its elements are a little bit confusing.
All of the above caused me to delay reading this book - while I enjoy "convoluted", Memento-like novels I need to be in the mood to go through them.
And then I took the book. And then I started wondering if reviewers that stated the above were actually reading the same book because I found no issue with it in regard to their comments.
Story is very quick in pace, witty dialogue (especially between members of the Pantheon) and characters are really great.
In the foreword of the edition I read it states that at the same time with this book [a:Frank Herbert|58|Frank Herbert|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1168661521p2/58.jpg]'s [b:Dune|234225|Dune (Dune Chronicles, #1)|Frank Herbert|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1434908555s/234225.jpg|3634639] came out. Dune became the more popular one and foreword author wonders why. For me reason is pretty straightforward - in Dune, theology is no different from the Earth's current traditions - you have people with super-powers (as a result of very specific and precise inter-breeding programs) leading vast armies to conquer space (I mean just check what Leto Jr. became at the end). People truly end up one-man armies and divine-like creatures and are basically self-fulfilling prophecy of the Bene Gesserit [that created these omnipotent human beings in the first place]. So from how-to-control-human-race plan we get [as a result] beings of legends that are actually truly omnipotent beings that cannot be described in no other way but as divine.
So nothing new here - lots of elements very common in all of the religions and religious teachings human society encountered so far. Even Fremen are nothing but echo of devout desert tribe of Abrachamic religion lore. Even when Leto Jr decides to let humanity spread among the stars religion is still very much part of life.
And then we have Zelazny's pantheon - these are not divine beings as in Dune but above-average people (in intellect and physique - to be honest this depends on how they end up reincarnated) that use technology - armor, augmented wands, swords, spears, fighting craft, combat machines of every type - to do divine actions. Without these they are above-average human beings but can be brought down in an instance by ordinary people on the field of battle. As soon as they are stripped of their armor, weapon or control mechanisms for the same they fall down in combat as fast as everyone else.
Even their immortality aspect is thanks to the machines and cloning - by moving one's soul into freshly crafted clone (or animal or truly corrupted human body - depending what the "head honcho" Brahma wants do to with people), aka reincarnation.
Problem is that after some time elite that fought the natives of the newly discovered planet deemed themselves above the other colonists and decided to take the control of technology by getting rid (as in killing off) of or accepting into their ranks anyone who knew anything about the technology. The rest - they are told to be good and behave. After couple of generations in which every attempt to progress is cruelly stamped on, the rest lost every previous knowledge and soon devolved into feudal societies. "Pantheon" on the other hand after several lives and reincarnations started believing that they are truly divine creatures and they control everyone below with iron fist and by promising them divinity if they behaved [after a while of course and with disclaimer we-don't-know-when-if ever].
And then Sam, one of the Heaven's finest executioners and combat leaders figures out that what started as war against the native creatures of the planet for sake of the colonists turned into bloodbath and complete oppression of human kind for the sake of the few. Sohe starts the fight against the "Pantheon" that takes years, and several reincarnations but ultimately he succeeds. He ignites the revolt by quoting original religious texts from Earth because he knows the effect of words on general populace and this does the trick. As he says at the end - he started seeding the revolt with the words using words as weapons but at the end he is glad he did it because ideas in those words are good and excellent beacon to guide ones life, they only fall short when it comes to the implementing them in human society. They are ideals and they should remain as such.
And this is the main difference between Herbert's and Zelazny's work - for Zelazny presented divine beings as nothing than petty humans with technology - without it they don't come up to much. They have pantheon because they cannot allow for some of them to join the lower ranks and spread the truth - pantheon is the only way to hold everyone together in the Heavenly domain. This is not a messianic tale (like one of Paul and Leto Jr) but tale of people getting rid of the chains enforced onto them by theocratic society and finally prospering with use of science and common sense. Also there is very subtle presentation of polytheism and monotheism through the actions of Dark One expelled from the Heavenly domain because he wants all of the power for himself.
So this is more touchy book that hits a cord where it is not supposed to. To present it just as another Prometheus story is to err in my opinion.
Novel is about wielding great power with responsibility and enabling better life for all, not just for the few. Also novel tackles the question of knowledge as shown through character of Yama. While all reincarnated beings need to re-learn their abilities only Yama is always reincarnated with all knowledge because of simple reason - he learns and remembers and keeps the knowledge, does not reinvent the wheel over and over again.
Interestingly enough main character, Sam, is nothing than the catalyst here. He lives, he dies only to be brought back to life for a simple reason - because of his ideas of progress and sharing knowledge.
Great novel, highly recommended to all SF fans. ( )
Not too sure why this was science fiction, all the characters name were weighted with history. Was interesting and certainly well written, however there were a lot of characters to attempt to keep track of. I definitely feel a bit lost, especially with how the story began. Will forget the book tomorrow anyway... ( )
En un mundo lejano de los extremos del tiempo, el panteón hindú gobierna todas las cosas. Sam, dominador de demonios, que ha perdido la gracia del cielo, ayudado ahora por los poderes de las tinieblas luchará por librar al hombre de las leyes del karma y las divinidades autócratas.
As opening lines of novels go, Lord of Light's are among the best I've ever read, and based on how many people have quoted them to me in the last few weeks, the best a lot of you have ever read, too. In twenty-five words, they capture the best-loved aspects of the book — the seamless blend of antiquated cadence and insouciant modern vernacular, of modest sincerity and dry humor — and more, they tell us, in part, what the story is about.
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta.Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
To Dannie Plachta, of friendship, wisdom, soma.
Ensimmäiset sanat
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta.Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
It is said that fifty-three years after his liberation he returned from the Golden Cloud to take up once again the gauntlet of Heaven, to oppose the Order of Life and the gods who ordained it so.
Sitaatit
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta.Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
Names are not important... To speak is to name names, but to speak is not important. A thing happens once that has never happened before. Seeing it, a man looks upon reality. He cannot tell others what he has seen. Others wish to know, however, so they question him saying, 'What is it like, this thing you have seen?' So he tries to tell them. Perhaps he has seen the very first fire in the world. He tells them, 'It is red, like a poppy, but through it dance other colors. It has no form, like water, flowing everywhere. It is warm, like the sun of summer, only warmer. It exists for a time upon a piece of wood, and then the wood is gone, as though it were eaten, leaving behind that which is black and can be sifted like sand. When the wood is gone, it too is gone.' Therefore, the hearers must think reality is like a poppy, like water, like the sun, like that which eats and excretes. They think it is like to anything that they are told it is like by the man who has known it. But they have not looked upon fire. They cannot really know it. They can only know of it. But fire comes again into the world, many times. More men look upon fire. After a time, fire is as common as grass and clouds and the air they breathe. They see that, while it is like a poppy, it is not a poppy, while it is like water, it is not water, while it is like the sun, it is not the sun, and while it is like that which eats and passes wastes, it is not that which eats and passes wastes, but something different from each of these apart or all of these together. So they look upon this new thing and they make a new word to call it. They call it 'fire.'"If they come upon one who still has not seen it and they speak to him of fire, he does not know what they mean. So they, in turn, fall back upon telling him what fire is like. 'As they do so, they know from their own experience that what they are telling him is not the truth, but only a part of it. They know that this man will never know reality from their words, though all the words in the world are theirs to use. He must look upon the fire, smell of it, warm his hands by it, stare into its heart, or remain forever ignorant. Therefore, 'fire' does not matter, 'earth' and 'air' and 'water' do not matter. 'I' do not matter. No word matters. But man forgets reality and remembers words. The more words he remembers, the cleverer do his fellows esteem him. He looks upon the great transformations of the world, but he does not see them as they were seen when man looked upon reality for the first time. Their names come to his lips and he smiles as he tastes them, thinking he knows them in the naming. The thing that has never happened before is still happening. It is still a miracle. The great burning blossom squats, flowing, upon the limb of the world, excreting the ash of the world, and being none of these things I have named and at the same time all of them, and this is reality — the Nameless.
I have many names, and none of them matter.
It is said that fifty-three years after his liberation he returned from the Golden Cloud, to take up once again the gauntlet of Heaven, to oppose the Order of Life and the gods who ordained it so. His followers had prayed for his return, though their prayers were sin. Prayer should not trouble one who has gone on to Nirvana, no matter what the circumstances of his going. The wearers of the saffron robe prayed, however, that He of the Sword, Manjusri, should come again among them, The Boddhisatva is said to have heard...
His followers called him Mahasamatman and said he was a god. He preferred to drop the Maha- and the -atman, and called himself Sam. He never claimed to be a god. But then, he never claimed not to be a god. Circumstances being what they were, neither admission could be of any benefit. Silence, though, could.
It was in the days of the rains that their prayers went up, not from the fingering of knotted prayer cords or the spinning of prayer wheels, but from the great pray-machine in the monastery of Ratri, goddess of the Night.
Despite his fall from favor, Yama was still deemed mightiest of the artificers, though it was not doubted that the Gods of the City would have him to die the real death were they to learn of the pray-machine. For that matter, though, it was not doubted that they would have him to die the real death without the excuse of the pray-machine, also, were he to come into their custody. How he would settle this matter with the Lords of Karma was his own affair, though none doubted that when the time came he would find a way.
"Your prayers and your curses come to the same. Lord Yama," commented the ape. "That is to say, nothing.""It has taken you seventeen incarnations to arrive at this truth?" said Yama. "I can see then why you are still doing time as an ape."
Not by the normal course of events shall we be restored or matters settled, Tak of the Bright Spear. We must beat our own path.
Sam was the greatest charlatan in the memory of god or man. He was also the worthiest opponent Trimurti ever faced.
I charge you — forget the names you bear, forget the words I speak as soon as they are uttered. Look, rather, upon the Nameless within yourselves, which arises as I address it. It hearkens not to my words, but to the reality within me, of which it is part. This is the atman, which hears me rather than my words. All else is unreal. To define is to lose. The essence of all things is the Nameless. The Nameless is unknowable, mightier even than Brahma. Things pass, but the essence remains. You sit, therefore, in the midst of a dream. "Essence dreams it a dream of form. Forms pass, but the essence remains, dreaming new dreams. Man names these dreams and thinks to have captured the essence, not knowing that he invokes the unreal. These stones, these walls, these bodies you see seated about you are poppies and water and the sun. They are the dreams of the Nameless. They are fire, if you like.
Occasionally, there may come a dreamer who is aware that he is dreaming. He may control something of the dream-stuff, bending it to his will, or he may awaken into greater self-knowledge. If he chooses the path of self-knowledge, his glory is great and he shall be for all ages like unto a star. If he chooses instead the way of the Tantras, combining Samsara and Nirvana, comprehending the world and continuing to live in it, this one is mighty among dreamers.
To dwell within Samsara, however, is to be subject to the works of those who are mighty among dreamers. If they be mighty for good, it is a golden time. If they be mighty for ill, it is a time of darkness. The dream may turn to nightmare.
This night the Lord of Illusion passed among you — Mara, mighty among dreamers — mighty for ill. He did come upon another who may work with the stuff of dreams in a different way. He did meet with Dharma, who may expel a dreamer from his dream. They did struggle, and the Lord Mara is no more.
To struggle against the dreamers who dream ugliness, be they men or gods, cannot but be the will of the Nameless. This struggle will also bear suffering, and so one's karmic burden will be lightened thereby, just as it would be by enduring the ugliness; but this suffering is productive of a higher end in the light of the eternal values of which the sages so often speak.
"For a spur of the moment thing, you came up with a fairly engaging sermon.""Thanks.""Do you really believe what you preached?"Sam laughed. "I'm very gullible when it comes to my own words. I believe everything I say, though I know I'm a liar."
I just wanted to try another line on the audience. It is difficult to stir rebellion among those to whom all things are good. There is no room for evil in their minds, despite the fact that they suffer it constantly. The slave upon the rack who knows that he will be born again — perhaps as a fat merchant — if he suffers willingly — his outlook is not the same as that of a man with but one life to live. He can bear anything, knowing that great as his present pain may be, his future pleasure will rise higher. If such a one does not choose to believe in good or evil, perhaps then beauty and ugliness can be made to serve him as well. Only the names have been changed.
"Yama thinks the Golden Cloud to have changed you.""Perhaps it has.""He believes it to have softened you, weakened you. You have always posed as a mystic, but now he believes you have become one — to your own undoing, to our undoing."He shook his head, turned around. But he did not see her. Stood she there invisible, or had she withdrawn? He spoke softly and without inflection:"I shall tear these stars from out the heavens," he stated, "and hurl them in the faces of the gods, if this be necessary. I shall blaspheme in every Temple throughout the land. I shall take lives as a fisherman takes fish, by the net, if this be necessary. I shall mount me again up to the Celestial City, though every step be a flame or a naked sword and the way be guarded by tigers. One day will the gods look down from Heaven and see me upon the stair, bringing them the gift they fear most. That day will the new Yuga begin.Ratri and Sam
He played tune after forbidden tune, and the professional musicians put professional expressions of scorn upon their faces; but neneath the table several feet were tapping in slow time with the music.
It is said that, when the Teacher appeared, those of all castes went to hear his teachings, as well as animals, gods and an occasional saint, to come away improved and uplifted. It was generally conceded that he had received enlightenment, except by those who believed him to be a fraud, sinner, criminal or practical joker. These latter ones were not all to be numbered as his enemies; but, on the other hand, not all of those improved and uplifted could be counted as his friends and supporters. His followers called him Mahasamatman and some said he was a god. So, after it was seen that he had been accepted as a teacher, was looked upon with respect, had many of the wealthy numbered as his supporters and had gained a reputation reaching far across the land, he was referred to as Tathagatha, meaning He Who Has Achieved. It must be noted that while the goddess Kali (sometimes known as Durga in her softer moments) never voiced a formal opinion as to his buddhahood, she did render him the singular honor of dispatching her holy executioner to pay him her tribute, rather than a mere hired assassin....
The Buddha, looking imperturbbable, returned his attention to the drama. A monk seated nearby noticed he was tapping his fingers on the ground, and he decided that the Enlightened One must be keeping time with the drumbeats, for it was common knowledge that he was above such things as impatience.
"You may not have this man, oh Death," said the Master of the North, "for he belongs to the world, and we of the world will defend him."
It is told how the Lord of Light descended into the Well of the Demons, to make there a bargain with the chief of the Rakasha. He dealt in good faith, but the Rakasha are the Rakasha. That is to say, they are malefic creatures, possessed of great powers, life-span and the ability to assume nearly any shape. The Rakasha are almost indestructible. Their chiefest lack is a true body; their chiefest virtue, their honor toward their gambling debts. That the Lord of Light went to Hellwell at all serves to show that perhaps he was somewhat distraught concerning the state of the world...
Hellwell lies at the top of the world and it leads down to its roots.It is probably as old as the world itself; and if it is not, it should be, because it looks as if it were.
There is a huge, burnished metal door, erected by the First, that is heavy as sin, three times the height of a man and half that distance in width. It is a full cubit thick and bears a head-sized ring of brass, a complicated pressure-plate lock and an inscription that reads, roughly, "Go away. This is not a place to be. If you do try to enter here, you will fail and also be cursed. If somehow you succeed, then do not complain that you entered unwarned, nor bother us with your deathbed prayers." Signed, "The Gods."
Very few feet have ever trod the trail that leads to Hellwell. Of those who visited, most came only to look, to see whether the great door really existed; and when they returned home and told of having seen it, they were generally mocked.
Think not, oh Siddhartha, that because you wear a different body you go now unrecognized. I look upon the flows of energy which are your real being — not the flesh that masks them.
A facility with oaths is not the most reassuring quality in a bargainer. And your strength is also your weakness in any bargaining at all. You are so strong as to be unable to grant to another the power to control you. You have no gods to swear by. The only thing you will honor is a gambling debt, and there are no grounds for gaming here.
"It is a difficult problem," said Taraka. "I should give anything I have to be free — but then, all that I have is power — pure power, in essence uncommittable. A greater force might subdue it, but that is not the answer. I do not really know how to give you satisfactory assurance that my promise will be kept. If I were you, I certainly would not trust me."
"What is your power, Siddhartha? How do you do what you do?" it asked him."Call it electrodirection," said the other, "mind over energy. It is as good a term as any. But whatever you call it, do not seek to cross it again. I can kill you with it, though no weapon formed of matter may be laid upon you. Go now!"
"I came to Hellwell, the wrath of the gods swarming and buzzing at my back. Now sixty-six demons are loose in the world. Very soon, your presence will be felt. The gods will know who has done this thing, and they will take steps against us. The element of surprise will be lost.""We fought the gods in the days of old . . .""And these are not the days of old, Taraka. The gods are stronger now, much stronger. Long have you been bound, and their might has grown over the ages. Even if you command the first army of Rakasha in history, and backing them in battle I raise me up a mighty army of men — even then, will the final result be a thing uncertain. To delay now is to throw everything away."
From Hellwell to Heaven he went, there to commune with the gods. The Celestial City holds many mysteries, including some of the keys to his own past. Not all that transpired during the time he dwelled there is known. It is known, however, that he petitioned the gods on behalf of the world, obtaining the sympathy of some, the enmity of others. Had he chosen to betray humanity and accept the proffers of the gods, it is said by some that he might have dwelled forever as a Lord of the City and not have met his death beneath the claws of the phantom cats of Kaniburrha...
"You fertility deities are worse than Marxists," he said. "You think that's all that goes on between people. We were just friends for a time, but she is too hard on her friends and so loses them."
"Are you not Maitreya, Lord of Light, for whom the world has waited, lo, these many years — he whose coming I prophesyed long ago in a poem?""No, my name is Sam," he replied, "and I am about to depart the world, not enter into it. Who are you?""I am a bird who was once a poet. All morning have I flown, since the yawp of Garuda opened the day. I was flying about the ways of Heaven looking for Lord Rudra, hoping to befoul him with my droppings, when I felt the power of a weird come over the land. I have flown far, and I have seen many things, Lord of Light"
I have seen all-colored Mara atop the spire of the highest tower, and I have felt the power of the weird he lays — for I have seen the phantom cats troubled within the wood, then hurrying in this direction. I have seen the tears of a man and of a woman. I have heard the laughter of a goddess. I have seen a bright spear uplifted against the morning, and I have heard an oath spoken. I have seen the Lord of Light at last, of whom I wrote, long ago:
Always dying, never dead;Ever ending, never ended;Loathed in darkness,Clothed in light,He comes, to end a world,As morning ends the night.These lines were writBy Morgan, free,Who shall, the day he dies,See this prophecy."
The bird ruffled his feathers then and was still."I am pleased, bird, that you have had a chance to see many things," said Sam, "and that within the fiction of your metaphor you have achieved a certain satisfaction. Unfortunately, poetic truth differs considerably from that which surrounds most of the business of life.""Hail, Lord of Light!" said the bird, and sprang into the air. As he rose, he was pierced through by an arrow shot from a nearby window by one who hated jackbirds.Sam hurried on.
During the time that followed the death of Brahma, there came upon the Celestial City a period of turmoil. Several among the gods were even expelled from Heaven. It was a time when just about everyone feared being considered an Accelerationist; and, as fate would have it, at some point or other during this period, just about everyone was considered an Accelerationist. Though Great-Souled Sam was dead, his spirit was said to live on, mocking. Then, in the days of disaffection and intrigue that led up to the Great Battle, it was rumored that more than his spirit might have lived on.
Death is mighty, and is no one's friend.
Another name by which he is sometimes called is Maitreya, meaning Lord of Light. After his return from the Golden Cloud, he journeyed to the Palace of Kama at Khaipur, where he planned and built his strength against the Day of the Yuga. A sage once said that one never sees the Day of the Yuga, but only knows it when it is past. For it dawns like any other day and passes in the same wise, recapitulating the history of the world.
Of all creatures, only the Binder had bested the Lord of Hellwell. Then the gods had come to challenge his power. They had been puny in the early days, struggling to discipline their mutant powers with drugs, hypnosis, meditation, neurosurgery — forging them into Attributes — and across the ages, those powers had grown. Four of them had entered Hellwell, only four, and his legions had not been able to repel them. The one called Shiva was strong, but the Binder had later slain him. This was as it should be, for Taraka recognized the Binder as a peer.
Time like an ocean, space like its water, Sam in the middle, standing, decided.
Taraka screamed as Siddhartha rode toward him upon a white horse, the air crackling and smelling of ozone:"No, Binder! Hold your power! My death belongs to Yama . . .""Oh foolish demon!" said Sam. "It need not have been..."
"You? You rose again?""It doesn't count," said Sam. "I didn't do it the hard way."Tears filled the Black One's eyes. "It means you'll win, though," he gasped. "I can't understand why He permitted it..."
I shall return to being a man, and I shall let the people keep the Buddha who is in their hearts. Whatever the source, the message was pure, believe me. That is the only reason it took root and grew.
Death and Light are everywhere, always, and they begin, end, strive, attend, into and upon the Dream of the Nameless that is the world, burning words within Samsara, perhaps to create a thing of beauty.
Viimeiset sanat
Tiedot englanninkielisestä Yhteisestä tiedosta.Muokkaa kotoistaaksesi se omalle kielellesi.
As the wearers of the saffron robe still meditate upon the Way of Light, and the girl who is named Murga visits the Temple daily, to place before her dark one in his shrine the only devotion he receives, of flowers.
Earth is long since dead. On a colony planet, a band of men has gained control of technology, made themselves immortal, and now rule their world as the gods of the Hindu pantheon. Only one dares oppose them: he who was once Siddhartha and is now Mahasamatman. Binder of Demons. Lord of Light.
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Google Books — Ladataan...
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