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Ladataan... MonstruaryTekijä: Julián Ríos
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Kirjaudu LibraryThingiin nähdäksesi, pidätkö tästä kirjasta vai et. Ei tämänhetkisiä Keskustelu-viestiketjuja tästä kirjasta. Julian Rios is a giant, a master, of European post modern literature and this is the third of his books that has just taken my breath away. A love letter of kinds to literature and the plastic arts Monstruary is as inventive as Larva and as clever as Poundemonium but more readily accessible than either. Monstruary is a form of pure literature that is becoming more and more difficult to find as publishers move ever deeper into simple financial waters steering clear of the maelstroms of experimental and innovative literature. I use the phrase "pure literature" simply to denote a text that is worth reading over and over just for the joy of the words and the constructions - I have no coherent idea of what "happens" or what the text is "about' but I do know that I have not taken so much pleasure in a text since Sorrentino's Red The Fiend. There were times when I had to check that this text had in fact been translated from Spanish. I have no idea how the Spanish text reads but the English is so beautiful that I take my hat off to Edith Grossman who translated it and to Knopf who had the nerve and good taste to publish it. I could not recommend this book more. Readers and artists alike will just wallow in the textures and the images. Like him or not there is no denying that Rios is one of the cleverest contemporary fiction writers around--there is a bit of James Joyce in him and a bit of Oulipo. Monstruary focuses around a painter with a very decided gothic bent--Victor Mons--who continually envisions works of art out of the most ordinary and extraordinary events/persons both from his past and his present--equally from the worlds of literature, art, the cinema and the brothel--and more often than not turning his creations into ghoulish phantasms. Rios presents this work full of double entendres and puns and the occasional word stretching--he is without a doubt (or at least I don't doubt it) a literary stylist first and foremost and always seems effortlessly to keep the mood light and humorous even when he's delving into the darker corners of human fear and desire. A very smart and entertaining book. näyttää 3/3 ei arvosteluja | lisää arvostelu
"Rios takes us into the eerie existence of the painter Victor Mons, who has created a series of works titled Monstruary, a menagerie of personal demons summoned from the disturbing and often erotic images of his past. We follow Mons on nocturnal outings and infernal escapades, as he encounters fiendish figures, otherworldly phantasms, and the beautiful models and prostitutes who serve as his muses. And we meet a host of fascinating and haunting characters: the architect who attempts to deconstruct a real city by constructing imaginary ones; the anonymous patron who commissions his portrait to be painted on his mistress's skin; Mons's ethereal lover, who torments him by recounting her infidelities - which he then paints; the mysterious itinerant collector, who may be only an actress playing the role of a lifetime." "In Monstruary, Rios assembles all the monsters of the Western world - from classical antiquity to the silver screen, from the Minotaur to Dracula - and collapses the boundaries between reality and imagination, leading us into a new domain where the ghoulish and the exquisite collide and combine. With language that is playful, inventive, and virtuosic, he shows us the dark side of the human heart, and the strange places where life and art overlap, each feeding and inspiring the other."--BOOK JACKET. Kirjastojen kuvailuja ei löytynyt. |
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Google Books — Ladataan... LajityypitMelvil Decimal System (DDC)863.64Literature Spanish and Portuguese Spanish fiction 20th Century 1945-2000Kongressin kirjaston luokitusArvio (tähdet)Keskiarvo:
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There be wicked wordplay here. I'm a nerd for such: thus reading is nerdplay and I'm a dull boy. The novel concerns a painter named Mons. He paints monsters, most from his own soul. Visions abound of Berlin, London and New York. There is a literary taxonomy but the taxes prove to be axes that chip away to the frozen souls of Lost Time. Forgive the allusions to Franz and Marcel. It was tough cell to mar. If this review is annoying the piss out of you, don't approach this novel.
I found the images powerful, despite the constant crunching underfoot of riddles. A rankness prevails. The odor of sad sex and booze hectors the reader. There is much art on display, but also loneliness. I admit to a trepidation in approaching Monstruary but such fears were unnecessary. I'd like to extend that vein further, other textual dimensions challeneg that decision. ( )