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Suicide (Fiction) (French Edition) –…
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Suicide (Fiction) (French Edition) (alkuperäinen julkaisuvuosi 2008; vuoden 2008 painos)

– tekijä: Édouard Levé (Tekijä)

JäseniäKirja-arvostelujaSuosituimmuussijaKeskimääräinen arvioMaininnat
2501382,456 (3.9)5
Suicide cannot be read as simply another novel--it is, in a sense, the author's own oblique, public suicide note, a unique meditation on this most extreme of refusals. Presenting itself as an investigation into the suicide of a close friend--perhaps real, perhaps fictional--more than twenty years earlier, Lev#65533; gives us, little by little, a striking portrait of a man, with all his talents and flaws, who chose to reject his life, and all the people who loved him, in favor of oblivion. Gradually, through Lev#65533;'s casually obsessive, pointillist, beautiful ruminations, we come to know a stoic, sensible, thoughtful man who bears more than a slight psychological resemblance to Lev#65533; himself. But Suicide is more than just a compendium of memories of an old friend; it is a near-exhaustive catalog of the ramifications and effects of the act of suicide, and a unique and melancholy farewell to life.… (lisätietoja)
Jäsen:levandoski
Teoksen nimi:Suicide (Fiction) (French Edition)
Kirjailijat:Édouard Levé (Tekijä)
Info:POL (2008), Edition: POL, 128 pages
Kokoelmat:Oma kirjasto
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Suicide (tekijä: Édouard Levé) (2008)

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englanti (9)  ranska (2)  italia (1)  norja (1)  Kaikki kielet (13)
Näyttää 1-5 (yhteensä 13) (seuraava | näytä kaikki)
It's rather unfortunate that Leve's own death overshadows the merits of this book. The second person is very tricky, but here it works wonderfully well; and the character study is very well done. There is apparently some 'conceptual' stuff going on (stochastic selection of passages), but it's not intrusive, and the book remains interesting after you learn about the concept.

As others have noted, the poetry at the end is atrocious. Presumably Leve knew that, and I still haven't manage to work out what purpose it's serving. ( )
  stillatim | Oct 23, 2020 |
This is a very long review, and I am sorry, but I have a lot to say about this book.

It’s my opinion that Édouard Levé perfects the pointillist technique he experiments with in [b:Autoportrait|11684851|Autoportrait|Édouard Levé|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1327331101s/11684851.jpg|4159908] in Suicide. I’ll explain my reasoning later.

Levé is worth reading for reasons other than this unique experimentation. It is in his ability to create character through this pointillism that he really shines. These facts build people who are very real. It reminds me of advice for lovers I once heard: don’t marry until you have seen your partner in a variety of situations. This is what Levé does--he shows us this person at times of euphoria, depression, confusion, horniness, boredom, and fear. Showing us these different experiences creates a complex persona that suddenly seems impossible to find in traditional narratives.

Yet despite this close study of character, there is still another dimension here that refuses to be explored. We come to know so much about this character, but his suicide creates questions that can never be answered. The suicide is not a surprise, it happens in the first paragraph, and it soon become clear that there is no answer to why the suicide was committed. But still we read on, perhaps in order to find some hints to this puzzle along the way.

I want to say that this novel is deeply felt by Levé, but I don’t know if that is true at all. Levé repeatedly states that he was not close to his friend, that he doesn’t really miss him. So maybe it is me that feels deeply here.

I feel inclined to make a somewhat counter-intuitive statement: I feel like I know Leve better in this novel than I do in his Autoportrait. I’m second-guessing myself already, asking how could that possibly be true? Autoportrait was ABOUT Levé! Maybe it is because Suicide is also about Leve, but in more abstract ways. (Levé committed suicide days after turning in this manuscript.) But I think it has to do with the movement and action in the novel. In the poem that ends the novel, there is a stanza that I feel helps explain this:

“A single point hypnotizes me
A constellation scatters me
A line guides me”

This is perfect because it is already spoken in terms of Levé’s pointillism. If we consider one of the numerous facts of Autoportrait to be a single point, and the sum of these facts that is Autoportrait in its entirety as a constellation of points, then Suicide is a line that guides us to understanding not only the events of the book, but Levé himself. The facts that make up the two novels are indeed hypnotizing, but Autoportrait underwhelmed me because I did feel “scattered.” There was very little movement, very little motion. Suicide has motion: we are looking for the answers this suicide begs. We begin with the suicide, are engaged in the scattered events of this person’s life, and then suddenly find ourselves getting closer and closer to it. We see this person’s numbness and his depression more clearly as we near the end. The narrator claims to be remembering these events at random, but Levé is clearly guiding us to an end.

It’s very likely this end does not exist on the page at all. The answers never come. Perhaps it is Levé’s own suicide that we are being led to. Reading this book is a haunting experience for this reason. It’s very clear to me now that we can never know everything. ( )
2 ääni danlai | Sep 1, 2014 |
Books that ostensibly attempt to capture the essence of a life often get bogged down in biographical minutiae instead. Levé shows that you can tell much more about what a person was like through how they behaved at parties, or what their least favourite time of day was. Through its short vignettes "Suicide" manages to make its reader familiar with the protagonist while allowing them to gauge the significance of the recollections enumerated within for themselves, stopping short of excessive explanation. Great books make you feel like you've made a new friend. Now I feel like I've lost one. ( )
1 ääni gnfti | Jul 20, 2013 |
I found this book to be completely disappointing on the subject of suicide. Enough so that I wrote a review of it here:

http://msarki.tumblr.com/post/50718181965/notes-on-edouard-leve-suicide-novels-d... ( )
  MSarki | Jun 5, 2013 |
Det er bare et par dager siden jeg leste "Selvportrett" av Édouard Levé - en bok som gjorde et meget sterkt inntrykk på meg. Jeg mottok både "Selvportrett" og "Selvmord" fra Flamme Forlag for få dager siden, og det var ikke veldig vanskelig å skjønne at bøkene på en måte hører sammen og derfor bør leses samlet. Jeg valgte i alle fall å gjøre det, og etter å ha lest "Selvmord", fikk jeg umiddelbart lyst til å lese "Selvportrett" på nytt.

Allerede fra første setning ble jeg sugd inn i forfatterens univers:

"En lørdag i august går du ut i tennisklær sammen med din kone. Midt i hagen gjør du henne oppmerksom på at du har glemt racketen inne i huset. Du går tilbake for å hente den, men i stedet for å gå bort til skapet i gangen der du pleier å sette den, går du ned i kjelleren. Din kone merker det ikke, hun er igjen ute, det er pent vær, hun står i solen. En liten stund senere hører hun et skytevåpen gå av. Hun løper inn i huset, hun roper navnet ditt, oppdager at døren til kjellertrappen står åpen, går ned og finner deg. Du har skutt deg selv i hodet med geværet du møysommelig hadde klargjort. På bordet har du latt et tegneseriealbum ligge igjen, åpnet på en dobbeltside. I forskrekkelsen lener din kone seg mot bordet, albumet faller ned og lukker seg før hun skjønner at det var din siste hilsen." (side 7)

"Selvmord" handler om forfatterens kamerat som tok livet av seg, og forfatteren har valgt å skrive boka til kameraten, hele tiden henvendt til ham som "du" - som om han fremdeles var i live og kunne høre Édouard Levés stemme. Det veldig spesielle med boka er at forfatteren selv tok sitt eget liv ti dager etter at han hadde levert manuskriptet sitt til forleggeren sin ... Han ble bare 42 år gammel. Med "Selvportrett" ferskt i minnet mens jeg leste "Selvmord", er det absolutt betimelig å spørre seg om ikke også "Selvmord" egentlig handler om forfatteren selv. For likhetspunktene er mange, kanskje med én vesentlig forskjell: kameraten var gift, det var ikke Édouard Levé ...

I boka beskrives sorgen over å ha mistet en venn - både sett fra Levés ståsted og slik han innbilder seg at det må være for kameratens kone. På en fascinerende måte beskriver han en avdød som er mer levende som død enn han noen gang var i levende live. Dessuten beskriver han angsten for å falle ut av et velordnet liv.

"For en gangs skyld klarte en uteligger å få deg til å le. Vanligvis ble du urolig av slike personer. Du følte deg ikke truet, du hadde aldri hatt noen negative opplevelser med dem, men du var redd for å bli som dem. Denne frykten var helt grunnløs. Du var en ikke ensom, fattig, forlatt alkoholiker. Du hadde en familie, en kone, et hus. Du manglet ikke penger. Men uteliggerne var som spøkelser som varslet om en mulig skjebne. Du identifiserte deg ikke med lykkelige mennesker, og siden det ikke fantes noen middelvei for deg, projiserte du deg inn blant dem som hadde spolert alt, eller ikke hadde lyktes med noe. Uteliggerne sto som det siste stadiet i et forfall livet kunne trekke deg mot. Du betraktet dem ikke som ofre, men som herrer over eget liv. Uansett hvor sjokkerende dette kan lyde, mente du at noen uteliggere hadde valgt et slikt liv. Det var det som uroet deg mest: at du en dag kunne velge fallet. Ikke at du skulle forsømme deg selv, hvilket bare ville vært en form for passivitet, men at du skulle ønske å synke, å nedverdige deg selv, å bli din egen ruin." (side 49)

Og slik kunne jeg ha fortsatt å sitere fra en bok med svært høy sitatfaktor. "Selvmord" er en bok man ikke bare kan "feie gjennom", selv om den kun inneholder 82 sider, hvorav de drøyt siste ti sidene inneholder trelinjers dikt, angivelig funnet i avdødes skrivebordskuff. Til det er teksten både for krevende og meningsfortettet. Jeg tror derfor at dette er en bok jeg kommer til å vende tilbake til, ta frem og lese på nytt - til tross for det nokså dystre innholdet. Dette er nemlig en bok som får deg til å tenke på hva som er meningen med alt - både med livet og døden ... Hver setning er gjennomarbeidet, presist formulert og intet - absolutt intet - er overlatt til tilfeldighetene. En sterk tekst som blir værende i kroppen lenge etter at siste side er vendt ... og som på en måte etterlot meg hudløs tilbake ... Jeg synes boka fortjener terningkast fem - tett opp mot en sekser.

Utgitt første gang i Frankrike: 2008
Originaltittel: Suicide
Utgitt i Norge: 2012
Forlag: Flamme Forlag
Oversatt: Thomas Lundbo
Antall sider: 82 ( )
  Rose-Marie | May 11, 2013 |
Näyttää 1-5 (yhteensä 13) (seuraava | näytä kaikki)
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Englanninkielinen Wikipedia (2)

Suicide cannot be read as simply another novel--it is, in a sense, the author's own oblique, public suicide note, a unique meditation on this most extreme of refusals. Presenting itself as an investigation into the suicide of a close friend--perhaps real, perhaps fictional--more than twenty years earlier, Lev#65533; gives us, little by little, a striking portrait of a man, with all his talents and flaws, who chose to reject his life, and all the people who loved him, in favor of oblivion. Gradually, through Lev#65533;'s casually obsessive, pointillist, beautiful ruminations, we come to know a stoic, sensible, thoughtful man who bears more than a slight psychological resemblance to Lev#65533; himself. But Suicide is more than just a compendium of memories of an old friend; it is a near-exhaustive catalog of the ramifications and effects of the act of suicide, and a unique and melancholy farewell to life.

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