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Randka w ciemno
Gwałt w obozie młodzieżowym, zjazd karłów na Środkowym Zachodzie, krwawe morderstwo w kalifornijskiej wilii, sprawa JP, szablisty o światowej sławie - to tylko niektóre motywy tej pasjonującej, nie pozbawionej wątków autobiograficznych powieści jednego z najgłośniejszych pisarzy współczesnych.
315 pages, Paperback
First published December 31, 1977
42 people are currently reading
902 people want to read
About the author
Jerzy Kosiński
62 books603 followersKosiński was born Josef Lewinkopf to Jewish parents in Łódź, Poland. As a child during World War II, he lived in central Poland under a false identity his father gave him to use, Jerzy Kosiński. A Roman Catholic priest issued him a forged baptismal certificate. The Kosiński family survived the Holocaust thanks to local villagers, who offered assistance to Jewish Poles often at great personal risk (the penalty for assisting Jews in Nazi-occupied Poland was death). Kosiński's father received help not only from Polish town leaders and churchmen, but also from individuals such as Marianna Pasiowa, a member of the Polish underground network helping Jews to evade capture. The family lived openly in Dąbrowa Rzeczycka near Stalowa Wola, and attended church in nearby Wola Rzeczycka, obtaining support from villagers in Kępa Rzeczycka. They were sheltered temporarily by a Catholic family in Rzeczyca Okrągła. The young Jerzy even served as an altar boy in a local church.
After World War II, Kosiński remained with his parents in Poland, moved to Jelenia Góra, and earned degrees in history and political science at the University of Łódź. He worked as an assistant in Institute of History and Sociology at the Polish Academy of Sciences. In 1957, he emigrated to the United States, creating a fake foundation which supposedly sponsored him; he later claimed that the letters from eminent Polish communist authorities guaranteeing his loyal return, which were needed for anyone leaving the communist country at that time, had all been forged by him.
After taking odd jobs to get by, such as driving a truck, Kosiński graduated from Columbia University, and in 1965 he became an American citizen. He received grants from Guggenheim Fellowship in 1967, Ford Foundation in 1968, and the American Academy in 1970, which allowed him to write a political non-fiction book, opening new doors of opportunity. In the States he became a lecturer at Yale, Princeton, Davenport University, and Wesleyan.
In 1962 Kosiński married Mary Hayward Weir who was 10 years his senior. They were divorced in 1966. Weir died in 1968 from brain cancer. Kosiński was left nothing in her will. He later fictionalized this marriage in his novel Blind Date speaking of Weir under pseudonym Mary-Jane Kirkland. Kosiński went on to marry Katherina "Kiki" von Fraunhofer, a marketing consultant and descendant of Bavarian aristocracy. They met in 1968.
Death
Kosiński suffered from multiple illnesses towards the end of his life, and was under attack from journalists who alleged he was a plagiarist. By the time he reached his late 50s, Kosiński was suffering from an irregular heartbeat as well as severe physical and nervous exhaustion. Kosiński committed suicide on May 3, 1991, by taking a fatal dose of barbiturates. His parting suicide note read: "I am going to put myself to sleep now for a bit longer than usual. Call it Eternity".
After World War II, Kosiński remained with his parents in Poland, moved to Jelenia Góra, and earned degrees in history and political science at the University of Łódź. He worked as an assistant in Institute of History and Sociology at the Polish Academy of Sciences. In 1957, he emigrated to the United States, creating a fake foundation which supposedly sponsored him; he later claimed that the letters from eminent Polish communist authorities guaranteeing his loyal return, which were needed for anyone leaving the communist country at that time, had all been forged by him.
After taking odd jobs to get by, such as driving a truck, Kosiński graduated from Columbia University, and in 1965 he became an American citizen. He received grants from Guggenheim Fellowship in 1967, Ford Foundation in 1968, and the American Academy in 1970, which allowed him to write a political non-fiction book, opening new doors of opportunity. In the States he became a lecturer at Yale, Princeton, Davenport University, and Wesleyan.
In 1962 Kosiński married Mary Hayward Weir who was 10 years his senior. They were divorced in 1966. Weir died in 1968 from brain cancer. Kosiński was left nothing in her will. He later fictionalized this marriage in his novel Blind Date speaking of Weir under pseudonym Mary-Jane Kirkland. Kosiński went on to marry Katherina "Kiki" von Fraunhofer, a marketing consultant and descendant of Bavarian aristocracy. They met in 1968.
Death
Kosiński suffered from multiple illnesses towards the end of his life, and was under attack from journalists who alleged he was a plagiarist. By the time he reached his late 50s, Kosiński was suffering from an irregular heartbeat as well as severe physical and nervous exhaustion. Kosiński committed suicide on May 3, 1991, by taking a fatal dose of barbiturates. His parting suicide note read: "I am going to put myself to sleep now for a bit longer than usual. Call it Eternity".
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 75 reviews
August 3, 2010
An auto-biographical masturbatory jizz fest.
Lots of writers write about themselves. Lots of writers who peaked in the late 1960's through 1980's made an industry out of writing about themselves. Philip Roth and Charles Bukowski are the two that pop right to mind, but I know there are lots more. Sometimes they are pretty clearly the author (as in when Philip Roth shucks the Nathan Zuckermann persona and starts writing about a character named Philip Roth you don't need an PhD in Contemporary American Literature to think, hmmm maybe he's writing about himself) and sometimes it takes just a little bit of work (as in Bukowski's Chinaski, you get it pretty quick that he's a barely disguised stand-in for Big B). Other times (well this one time in particular) the author or publisher decide that maybe the reader won't get the autobiographical wallowing the author has been engaged in. In this case it is best to give a four and a half page mini-biography in the back in the book, just to let the reader see what in the book was taken from real life.
With the help of the biography in the back of the book (written before the 1982 problems of Kosinski, when The Village Voice would come out with accusations that the National Book Awared winning author was a) a plagiarist and also b) didn't even write at least one of his own books (as in he paid someone else to write it, something that is a no-no in the literary fiction world, but which is acceptable in the less than savory land of genre fiction) the reader can fill in what parts of the book were taken from his own life. Sometimes a part of a person's name are changed, but mostly much work isn't needed to connect the events in the book to events that happened in the book.
This is fine, I've been reading books for enough years that I realize this happens. Some writers I like do this, some I don't do it. Whatever. I think if it weren't for the mini-biography in the back of the book praising him as a messiah of morality (and what does the phrase 'penultimate gamesman' even mean? C'mon if you're going to use hyperbolic praise at least make it mean something). Never mind the praise on the back of the book and in the mini-bio about him being the greatest psychological novelist at work. His main character goes through the book in almost a Forest Gump like trance that only gets broken when he decides to act out a violent fantasy on someone. Yes most of these violent fantasies made real in the context of the book are against people who deserve to be, ahem, treated violently. When he assassinates a bureaucratic official responsible for the torture of intellectuals you can see Kosinski re-imagining himself as a PEN superhero of sorts. Which is noble in a fantastical way. But then what do we make of the violent rape of a teenage girl in a flashback scene to the main characters youth? A scene where he feels enough remorse to be a step psychologically above a sociopath, but still way too removed from feelings that a 'moral' person should have. He feels bad for her after finishing raping her a first time, but his remorse evaporates when he gets a little bit aroused so he positions himself in some position so that one foot pushes the girls face into the dirt, one keeping a shoulder in place while he pile drives into her ass. Even afterward there is an inkling that, oh I did something wrong, and he tries to confess to it, but there is no depth in the character that he really feels like he did anything wrong, more like he feels cheated at people not believing that it was him and not his friend who raped the girl multiple times.
The book has more of these scenes that border have the main character (Kosinski) straddling the border of being a narcissistic sociopath. He has a three year relationship with a woman whom he doesn't doesn't even both to find out her real name or anything about her, except for one time that she leaves the room for a few minutes and he rifles through her purse, but he never in all that time thought to talk about anything but himself to her. Even when he recounts his close call with pop-culture notoriety, how he should have been at Roman Polanski's house the night that Charles Manson's family came visiting he doesn't sound convincing at having any feelings, never mind psychological depth. One acquaintance, a friend and one of his best friends from his youth are slaughtered by drugged out hippies and he can admit to feeling sad, but only by saying I was sad. Not really the way Proust would handle the delicate psychology of such a life altering event.
And speaking of Proust, whom one can say is a master of the psychological novel; if one is really supposed to believe that Kosinski represents the 1970's pinnacle of style of fiction that Proust excelled in, then well, literature is fucked. Fortunately critics talk out their asses. Kosinski is like a Proust on cocaine, or in need of ritalin, of suffering from ADD, who just can't keep a single thought going for long. Yeah one thing leads to a thought that leads to another thought that recollects and event from thirty years ago or whatever, but when you write them out in staccato and unanalyzed bursts, well, it doesn't really sing masterpiece.
So why three stars? Well because all of my annoyances aside I did enjoy the book. There are some great cringe worthy graphic moments in the book, and some of the stories that make up the whole are quite good. It's just the book as a whole seems so fucking self-congratulatory for someone who seems more important in his own head than he is in reality.
Maybe this is really only a two star book, but it gets an extra star for gore. Having a scene where a hooker is getting fucked by an old man and his eye pops out of his socket while he's on top of her deserves at least three stars. Nevermind the scene with the saber.
P.S. All of that said, I think I'm taking down a star because apparently in real life Kosinski liked to torture small dogs. See! Sociopath! Not Moral! Torturing small dogs is fucked. Back to two stars.
Lots of writers write about themselves. Lots of writers who peaked in the late 1960's through 1980's made an industry out of writing about themselves. Philip Roth and Charles Bukowski are the two that pop right to mind, but I know there are lots more. Sometimes they are pretty clearly the author (as in when Philip Roth shucks the Nathan Zuckermann persona and starts writing about a character named Philip Roth you don't need an PhD in Contemporary American Literature to think, hmmm maybe he's writing about himself) and sometimes it takes just a little bit of work (as in Bukowski's Chinaski, you get it pretty quick that he's a barely disguised stand-in for Big B). Other times (well this one time in particular) the author or publisher decide that maybe the reader won't get the autobiographical wallowing the author has been engaged in. In this case it is best to give a four and a half page mini-biography in the back in the book, just to let the reader see what in the book was taken from real life.
With the help of the biography in the back of the book (written before the 1982 problems of Kosinski, when The Village Voice would come out with accusations that the National Book Awared winning author was a) a plagiarist and also b) didn't even write at least one of his own books (as in he paid someone else to write it, something that is a no-no in the literary fiction world, but which is acceptable in the less than savory land of genre fiction) the reader can fill in what parts of the book were taken from his own life. Sometimes a part of a person's name are changed, but mostly much work isn't needed to connect the events in the book to events that happened in the book.
This is fine, I've been reading books for enough years that I realize this happens. Some writers I like do this, some I don't do it. Whatever. I think if it weren't for the mini-biography in the back of the book praising him as a messiah of morality (and what does the phrase 'penultimate gamesman' even mean? C'mon if you're going to use hyperbolic praise at least make it mean something). Never mind the praise on the back of the book and in the mini-bio about him being the greatest psychological novelist at work. His main character goes through the book in almost a Forest Gump like trance that only gets broken when he decides to act out a violent fantasy on someone. Yes most of these violent fantasies made real in the context of the book are against people who deserve to be, ahem, treated violently. When he assassinates a bureaucratic official responsible for the torture of intellectuals you can see Kosinski re-imagining himself as a PEN superhero of sorts. Which is noble in a fantastical way. But then what do we make of the violent rape of a teenage girl in a flashback scene to the main characters youth? A scene where he feels enough remorse to be a step psychologically above a sociopath, but still way too removed from feelings that a 'moral' person should have. He feels bad for her after finishing raping her a first time, but his remorse evaporates when he gets a little bit aroused so he positions himself in some position so that one foot pushes the girls face into the dirt, one keeping a shoulder in place while he pile drives into her ass. Even afterward there is an inkling that, oh I did something wrong, and he tries to confess to it, but there is no depth in the character that he really feels like he did anything wrong, more like he feels cheated at people not believing that it was him and not his friend who raped the girl multiple times.
The book has more of these scenes that border have the main character (Kosinski) straddling the border of being a narcissistic sociopath. He has a three year relationship with a woman whom he doesn't doesn't even both to find out her real name or anything about her, except for one time that she leaves the room for a few minutes and he rifles through her purse, but he never in all that time thought to talk about anything but himself to her. Even when he recounts his close call with pop-culture notoriety, how he should have been at Roman Polanski's house the night that Charles Manson's family came visiting he doesn't sound convincing at having any feelings, never mind psychological depth. One acquaintance, a friend and one of his best friends from his youth are slaughtered by drugged out hippies and he can admit to feeling sad, but only by saying I was sad. Not really the way Proust would handle the delicate psychology of such a life altering event.
And speaking of Proust, whom one can say is a master of the psychological novel; if one is really supposed to believe that Kosinski represents the 1970's pinnacle of style of fiction that Proust excelled in, then well, literature is fucked. Fortunately critics talk out their asses. Kosinski is like a Proust on cocaine, or in need of ritalin, of suffering from ADD, who just can't keep a single thought going for long. Yeah one thing leads to a thought that leads to another thought that recollects and event from thirty years ago or whatever, but when you write them out in staccato and unanalyzed bursts, well, it doesn't really sing masterpiece.
So why three stars? Well because all of my annoyances aside I did enjoy the book. There are some great cringe worthy graphic moments in the book, and some of the stories that make up the whole are quite good. It's just the book as a whole seems so fucking self-congratulatory for someone who seems more important in his own head than he is in reality.
Maybe this is really only a two star book, but it gets an extra star for gore. Having a scene where a hooker is getting fucked by an old man and his eye pops out of his socket while he's on top of her deserves at least three stars. Nevermind the scene with the saber.
P.S. All of that said, I think I'm taking down a star because apparently in real life Kosinski liked to torture small dogs. See! Sociopath! Not Moral! Torturing small dogs is fucked. Back to two stars.
December 2, 2016
Jerzy Kosinski was the one that successfully dealt in human pathology and was highly praised for his literary deviation. And even during his most romantic moments Jerzy Kosinski managed to remain pathological.
“Oscar remarked that she could be an ideal blind date, and if he encountered her walking alone in the city at night, he would break her eye. Breaking the eye was what he called rape, he explained. Noting Levanter’s surprise, he admitted that he had been raping girls and women for three or four years, and by now had raped several dozen. Twice within the past year he had been picked up by police as a rape suspect but was released both times because the victims could not identify him positively. He had worked out a fail-safe way to break the eye, he said, and credited himself with inventing a hold to keep the victim at his mercy: the twist, he dubbed it. Thanks to the twist, not one of his victims had ever managed to see his face — that was why he called them blind dates.”
According to Jerzy Kosinski the entire life is a series of blind dates with doom.
“Oscar remarked that she could be an ideal blind date, and if he encountered her walking alone in the city at night, he would break her eye. Breaking the eye was what he called rape, he explained. Noting Levanter’s surprise, he admitted that he had been raping girls and women for three or four years, and by now had raped several dozen. Twice within the past year he had been picked up by police as a rape suspect but was released both times because the victims could not identify him positively. He had worked out a fail-safe way to break the eye, he said, and credited himself with inventing a hold to keep the victim at his mercy: the twist, he dubbed it. Thanks to the twist, not one of his victims had ever managed to see his face — that was why he called them blind dates.”
According to Jerzy Kosinski the entire life is a series of blind dates with doom.
August 31, 2023
All these Kosinskis are a bit amoral, but this one really leans into that discomfort to least meaningful ends. It's also seemingly most autobiographical and most a narrative grab-bag, like someone telling you anecdotes from their life at a party, half of which are clearly made up, and many others that you hope are. Vexing then, a little self-involved, uncomfortable, dipping into fantasies of eros and power and retribution, but for all of that nothing if not consistently compelling. Literate, literary trash of a sort. And one of the better possible placements of a "Foxy Lady" novelty t-shirt. To be clear, his games with the space between autobiography and novel are an asset; he's neither simply novelizing his life, nor passing off grotesqueries as personal experience to trick anyone. Where Kosinki succeeds it is in assessing his times through a lens simultaneously personal and nightmarish. The amorality of his avatars is situated within the larger traumas and travesties of a very messed up 20th century, as they must be. But he has done all of this rather more purposefully elsewhere.
I suppose plastering Kosinski's face on both the front and back covers of this particular edition of his novels makes sense given his toying with autobiography, though did his face really sell mass-market paperbacks? Yet these were bestsellers in their time.
A higher two stars, I can't really give it three but it's notable in some way.
I suppose plastering Kosinski's face on both the front and back covers of this particular edition of his novels makes sense given his toying with autobiography, though did his face really sell mass-market paperbacks? Yet these were bestsellers in their time.
A higher two stars, I can't really give it three but it's notable in some way.
April 16, 2013
This is an old favorite from Jerzy Kosinski. I'm not sure if it would universally be considered a 5 star or even considered one of his best to other fans but it holds a special place in my literary heart and a dark, confounding resonance that echoes and repels against the moral foundations in my mind. Kosinski was THE premiere 'psychological' writer in the 1970s, sold untold millions of books world-wide, and lived an incredible, nearly unbelievable life that is the basis for many of his books, especially "Blind Date" and "The Painted Bird". He is probably best known now as the writer of "Being There" that became a classic movie starring Peter Sellers. Today it seems Kosinski is hardly remembered. I never hear his name come up in conversation in book circles and in untold years in Junior College and 2 years at the University as a modern literature major I can't recall that his name was mentioned once. Kosinski is said to have edited down his work over and over again to the barest, most distilled essence until he felt that if he cut out another word it would become illegible. Perhaps Hemingway in method but not in impact, tone and subject matter. We step from one event in protagonist Levanter's (Koskinski's) life often in a geographical and emotional daze, but primal senses sharpened to the finest point, baffled by the over-arching role that 'chance' continues to play in shaping a life lived to the fullest, often unburdened by 'normal' issues of morality. Sex, violence, revenge, friendship, love, fate and the very act of living are all different kinds of mirrors, reflections in the mind that guide us down a corridor further and further into a place where these events are witnessed with perfect clarity and yet their meaning remains ever illusive in a room full of mirrors. Kosinski was due to arrive at Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate's house as a weekend guest the night of the Manson murders and missed a connecting flight to LA due to lost luggage that evening in New York. In one of the later chapters in "Blind Date" his recount of this event as a man who was supposed to be there but for another brief hiccup of chance, the likes of which shape his life consistently in profound ways, is truly extraordinary.
March 19, 2010
This is...as bleak and dark and utterly, elegantly nihilist as it gets. Thriller? S/M erotica? Novel of manners? Acid social satire? Novel of utter moral emptiness and random violence? Oh, yes: all that and much, much more. Told in a distinctive, disturbing, affectless voice. This is...powerful and alluring.
May 29, 2020
Hey MJ!
This is probably the farthest Jerzy can take his schtick without collapsing into parody. Being in the third-person takes away some of the tang. Usual shit: kicking ass, getting laid, grotesqueries, fucking skiing. Far too much sexplication for me; there is, no shit, a character named 'Foxy Lady.' And his descriptions of said congress still read harlequin. Christ: just say dick or whatnot. And PLEASE stop with 'musk' and 'manhood.'
Still, I can't help but like Jerzy. AND...the book was raised a full star for its retelling of the Tate murders. As you know, Jerz was supposed to be there; ere's a man whose life was saved by lost luggage. His imagining his friend's last minutes of life are fucking horrific. That is meant as a compliment.
Say whatcha want about the guy, he did have an awful lot of shit to swim through. His suicide seems inevitable.
Oh, and MJ? I LOVE YOU. Deal with it.
xx
Jerzy Kosiński (I mean, eh...Codsiński...uh, yeah)
This is probably the farthest Jerzy can take his schtick without collapsing into parody. Being in the third-person takes away some of the tang. Usual shit: kicking ass, getting laid, grotesqueries, fucking skiing. Far too much sexplication for me; there is, no shit, a character named 'Foxy Lady.' And his descriptions of said congress still read harlequin. Christ: just say dick or whatnot. And PLEASE stop with 'musk' and 'manhood.'
Still, I can't help but like Jerzy. AND...the book was raised a full star for its retelling of the Tate murders. As you know, Jerz was supposed to be there; ere's a man whose life was saved by lost luggage. His imagining his friend's last minutes of life are fucking horrific. That is meant as a compliment.
Say whatcha want about the guy, he did have an awful lot of shit to swim through. His suicide seems inevitable.
Oh, and MJ? I LOVE YOU. Deal with it.
xx
Jerzy Kosiński (I mean, eh...Codsiński...uh, yeah)
October 26, 2015
Dużo fajnych historyjek z pogranicza Wilka z Wall Street i Jamesa Bonda, ale cała bałaganiarska formuła i dość prosty język (sprawiający, że ta lektura jest leciutka jak piórko) nie są dla mnie nijak do skumania. Kasy zabrakło autorowi czy dobrze się zasłonił tym "Malowanym Ptakiem"?
December 13, 2014
Kosinski writes such interesting books - vignettes really - slices of life. Generally short and tightly bound, his books often have unusual plots. Not unusual as speculative fiction might be, but rather unusual in terms of their content. They follow a character through a portion of his or her life and explore their world.
In this case, that character is Levantar, a refugee from behind the Iron Curtain who has a made a life for himself in America as an investor. Levantar is not, however, your typical investor. His morals and scruples are nothing one would expect. He does not work on Wall Street, but rather "in the field", looking for prudent investments and pouncing upon them.
He does some pretty horrible things along the way. And that is what makes Kosinski's character study so interesting. Levantar should be in jail. One might even say that he is psychotic. Yet, he seems to have a strong moral code. Some of his more horrific acts target people that any reader would despise. Torturers or worse yet, those who make the decision to turn in people to the torturers. They seem like almost rational acts by Levantar as he researches these people like one would research a investment and then disposes of them.
At the same time, Levantar finds himself on the other side. His friends suffer horrors themselves, much like those he inflicts upon others, and he struggles to grasp why such things happen to them. He experiences bouts of tremendous fortune and a string of bad luck. Things beyond his control.
When you look at the events in the novel - those driven by Levantar both horrible and wonderful - and those that are inflicted upon him, you begin to see the picture of how the world works. Everyone has their reasons for their actions. And to those taken the actions, that rationale is clear. If the world simply followed a single point of view, then, it would make sense. The world, however, is made up of billions of people like Levantar. To each of them, their actions make sense - even if the beguile the minds of others. And in this confluence of events, all driven from different perspectives, our world, with its seemingly random string of action, exists.
Its not a particularly new concept. But what makes Kosinski's book interesting is the way he leads us to this conclusion through the snapshots of events in Levantar's life.
In this case, that character is Levantar, a refugee from behind the Iron Curtain who has a made a life for himself in America as an investor. Levantar is not, however, your typical investor. His morals and scruples are nothing one would expect. He does not work on Wall Street, but rather "in the field", looking for prudent investments and pouncing upon them.
He does some pretty horrible things along the way. And that is what makes Kosinski's character study so interesting. Levantar should be in jail. One might even say that he is psychotic. Yet, he seems to have a strong moral code. Some of his more horrific acts target people that any reader would despise. Torturers or worse yet, those who make the decision to turn in people to the torturers. They seem like almost rational acts by Levantar as he researches these people like one would research a investment and then disposes of them.
At the same time, Levantar finds himself on the other side. His friends suffer horrors themselves, much like those he inflicts upon others, and he struggles to grasp why such things happen to them. He experiences bouts of tremendous fortune and a string of bad luck. Things beyond his control.
When you look at the events in the novel - those driven by Levantar both horrible and wonderful - and those that are inflicted upon him, you begin to see the picture of how the world works. Everyone has their reasons for their actions. And to those taken the actions, that rationale is clear. If the world simply followed a single point of view, then, it would make sense. The world, however, is made up of billions of people like Levantar. To each of them, their actions make sense - even if the beguile the minds of others. And in this confluence of events, all driven from different perspectives, our world, with its seemingly random string of action, exists.
Its not a particularly new concept. But what makes Kosinski's book interesting is the way he leads us to this conclusion through the snapshots of events in Levantar's life.
September 21, 2008
oh jerzy- back at it again...this is the fourth novel i have read by jerzy. i feel blind date's fundamental similarities to his other works (reading three previously) have dulled the shock value that creates an authentic kosinski work. i read it knowing of his traumatic childhood events (the painted bird), his clever escape from Russia, and the tragic event of how his friends were murdered by the Manson gang. somewhere along the line, i also read that he may or may not have plagiarized some of his works (but the idea seems inaccurate as his works seem congruent).
from his works, i have learned that his main characters (i.e. his fictional self) typically have a powerful desire for strange sexual situations that clearly wander into the realm of perversion. also, that their passion for revenge is inconsistent, yet strikingly complex and cruel when acted out.
kosinski has created suggestive works of fictional biography by weaving into them events from his own life, ultimately casting a shroud of uncertainty around the actual details of his life.
from his works, i have learned that his main characters (i.e. his fictional self) typically have a powerful desire for strange sexual situations that clearly wander into the realm of perversion. also, that their passion for revenge is inconsistent, yet strikingly complex and cruel when acted out.
kosinski has created suggestive works of fictional biography by weaving into them events from his own life, ultimately casting a shroud of uncertainty around the actual details of his life.
November 25, 2009
George Levanter, the protagonist of Blind Date, is enshrouded in a fog that never really dispels. Philanthropist, hero, odious amoralist, fetishist, loner, genius, freak, Mcgyver--who the hell is this guy? Kosinkski drops in on Levanter at various times in his life and presents seemingly arbitrary snippets of a man whose motives are barely hinted at. Levanter is like some kind of James Bond but with some nasty proclivities that are enacted and described with such sang-froid that you can't help but be titillated by what otherwise might render you aghast. One scenario in particular will be indelibly imprinted upon my neural pathways for years to come. So yeah, it's the mystery of this guy that propelled me through the book--the contradictions. And of course humans are full of contradiction but Levanter is a little more than human which makes him entertaing.
January 25, 2010
To date my favorite writer. The main character, Levanter, is never really likeable but you can't help but respect him, if only for the lengths he will take for friendship. I couldn't help but wonder as I was reading, how much of Levanter comes from Kosinski.
June 29, 2013
This is only the second book of Kosinski's I've read, but I see a pattern already: a story made up of amusing anecdotes and grotesque behavior thrown into a blender of international intrigue that reminds me of Chuck Barris' claims that he used to kill for the CIA. It's all nonsense, and it's all told in a staccato and bland manner, with only a smattering here and there of imagery intended to be artful, except it practically has a neon sign on it announcing it as such. The story also seems cliched, but maybe Kosinski invented this cliche? Perhaps this was ground-breaking and fresh in 1977. I doubt it, but, given that it seems to be a favorite pastime of the world to dump hate and scorn on him, maybe I'll give him at least that much, and say it was a great testament to a different era of excessive self-loving wishful thinking.
Amongst all this gorp, one passage stands out and is amazing: the story of the protagonist's ride on Sunset Boulevard with his soon-to-be-murdered friend. It was so well-told, and the friend's observations so wry--in other words, so unlike one other thing in this book--that I wonder if Kosinski did indeed lift it from a conversation he'd had with his real-life murdered friend Wojciech Frykowski, who was afterall an author himself. (But Kosinski would never take someone else's stuff and pass it off as his own, right?) As if to highlight the foreign nature of the writing of this fascinating scene, Kosinski goes right back to where he's comfortable, next presenting us with an imagining worthy of any trashy "true crime" paperback of what this friend was thinking and feeling as he was being stabbed to death.
Given all that, I should despise this book and give it negative two stars. But somehow, I still enjoyed it, in a perverse way, sometimes, maybe; perhaps as a guilty pleasure. Go figure. Perhaps it's the literary equivalent of going back in time, sliding into a leisure suit, talking your way into an exclusive disco, snorting a few lines of coke, and having sex with a goat on the dance floor, before heading home in your lime-green Gremlin and blasting an 8-track of Frampton Comes Alive. It's not something that would be acceptable today but looking back, it's strangely fun to observe, even if none of it was really true.
Amongst all this gorp, one passage stands out and is amazing: the story of the protagonist's ride on Sunset Boulevard with his soon-to-be-murdered friend. It was so well-told, and the friend's observations so wry--in other words, so unlike one other thing in this book--that I wonder if Kosinski did indeed lift it from a conversation he'd had with his real-life murdered friend Wojciech Frykowski, who was afterall an author himself. (But Kosinski would never take someone else's stuff and pass it off as his own, right?) As if to highlight the foreign nature of the writing of this fascinating scene, Kosinski goes right back to where he's comfortable, next presenting us with an imagining worthy of any trashy "true crime" paperback of what this friend was thinking and feeling as he was being stabbed to death.
Given all that, I should despise this book and give it negative two stars. But somehow, I still enjoyed it, in a perverse way, sometimes, maybe; perhaps as a guilty pleasure. Go figure. Perhaps it's the literary equivalent of going back in time, sliding into a leisure suit, talking your way into an exclusive disco, snorting a few lines of coke, and having sex with a goat on the dance floor, before heading home in your lime-green Gremlin and blasting an 8-track of Frampton Comes Alive. It's not something that would be acceptable today but looking back, it's strangely fun to observe, even if none of it was really true.
January 20, 2016
Things you could get away in 1977 would get you castrated in the 21st century. Some very questionable ethical standards espoused by the author in the joking matter. I am having a hard time tossing it into my "humor" shelf.
April 6, 2009
This interesting, short novel is the first thing I've read by Kosinski, and i finished it before I knew much of anything about him or the controversies that bedeviled his work. It resembles much good east European fiction in it's strange, erotic and violent episodes, and you see flashes of writers like Grass, Kafka, and Kundera (given the past accusation of plagiarism against Kosinski, this is not to suggest that he steals from them).
But the book is wholly his own, and in crafting the misadventures of the expatriate George Levanter, what I think Kosinski has done is present an entertaining, moving, at times discomforting tale of a character who, escaping from totalitarianism, leaves himself open to impulses that only emerge under pressure. These pressures can be sexual or political or emotional; the entertaining aspect of Levanter's story is the way he almost glides from one moment to the next, from light comedy (his near exile in small town America) to sexual passion (an on-off long-term relationship with a prostitute) and political revenge (his violent vendetta against the functionaries of the East European police states). A summary of these episodes makes them seem outlandish, but it's to Kosinski's credit that they all seem believable, or at least plausible as dreams, which I think may be partly the charm of the novel. There are also episodes that trouble, partly for their content and partly for the way they tap into our fascination with the perverse: one is based on the Manson killings, and one involves a casual friendship with a rapist. It's a reminder that though life can be dreamlike and ecstatic, it can be dull or brutal as well, often at the same time. Although occasionally repetitive and at times suffering from a lack of clarity, the novel is certainly worth a look.
But the book is wholly his own, and in crafting the misadventures of the expatriate George Levanter, what I think Kosinski has done is present an entertaining, moving, at times discomforting tale of a character who, escaping from totalitarianism, leaves himself open to impulses that only emerge under pressure. These pressures can be sexual or political or emotional; the entertaining aspect of Levanter's story is the way he almost glides from one moment to the next, from light comedy (his near exile in small town America) to sexual passion (an on-off long-term relationship with a prostitute) and political revenge (his violent vendetta against the functionaries of the East European police states). A summary of these episodes makes them seem outlandish, but it's to Kosinski's credit that they all seem believable, or at least plausible as dreams, which I think may be partly the charm of the novel. There are also episodes that trouble, partly for their content and partly for the way they tap into our fascination with the perverse: one is based on the Manson killings, and one involves a casual friendship with a rapist. It's a reminder that though life can be dreamlike and ecstatic, it can be dull or brutal as well, often at the same time. Although occasionally repetitive and at times suffering from a lack of clarity, the novel is certainly worth a look.
September 26, 2015
Takovej východoevropskej Henry Miller - příběh ruskýho mrdáka George Levantera, kterej vypraví svůj příběh od emigrace z Ruska, kde za Stalina pracoval jako instruktor lyžování, přes epizodu ve Švýcarsku, kde pracoval jako instruktor lyžování, až po jeho čas v Americe, kde se živil jako investor.
Když říkám Henry Miller, tak to samozřejmě znamená, že všude mrdal jak zjednanej a příběh sám o sobě je pátý pres devátý. Mrdani je popsáno velmi dobře, i kdyz si nevybavuju, že by mi někdy houpnul. Autor popisuje i témata jako ruský rande na slepo. Odtud i název knihy. Rande na slepo znamenalo, že se chlap přiblíží k ženě zezadu, dá jí ránu a zezadu ji znásilní. Protože žena nikdy nevidí útočníkovi do tváře, je tento akt autorem označován za rande na slepo.
Kniha se čte dobře, příběh střídá příběh, mrdačka mrdačku a sloh je ucházející. WTF momenty slouží jako vítaný bonus. Například epizoda, kdy si Levanter nese v NY do čínské čistírny košile a žádá Číňana, aby mu dvě vypral jinak, což Číňan samozřejmě neudělá a tak mu Levanter řekne, že takhle to nejde. Na to konto mu Číňan začne nadávat, že je piča a ať táhne. Levanter vyndá fotku na které je vidět, že byl v Číně a Číňan začne plakat. Když jsem si dřív košile nepral sám, stávalo se mi toto v čistírně pořád.
Když říkám Henry Miller, tak to samozřejmě znamená, že všude mrdal jak zjednanej a příběh sám o sobě je pátý pres devátý. Mrdani je popsáno velmi dobře, i kdyz si nevybavuju, že by mi někdy houpnul. Autor popisuje i témata jako ruský rande na slepo. Odtud i název knihy. Rande na slepo znamenalo, že se chlap přiblíží k ženě zezadu, dá jí ránu a zezadu ji znásilní. Protože žena nikdy nevidí útočníkovi do tváře, je tento akt autorem označován za rande na slepo.
Kniha se čte dobře, příběh střídá příběh, mrdačka mrdačku a sloh je ucházející. WTF momenty slouží jako vítaný bonus. Například epizoda, kdy si Levanter nese v NY do čínské čistírny košile a žádá Číňana, aby mu dvě vypral jinak, což Číňan samozřejmě neudělá a tak mu Levanter řekne, že takhle to nejde. Na to konto mu Číňan začne nadávat, že je piča a ať táhne. Levanter vyndá fotku na které je vidět, že byl v Číně a Číňan začne plakat. Když jsem si dřív košile nepral sám, stávalo se mi toto v čistírně pořád.
October 24, 2016
I've truly never read another novel like BLIND DATE. The way its story is spun -- a series of unconnected anecdotes from the life of an intrepid Russian defector -- makes the book's length melt away.
If you're looking for moral lessons, look elsewhere; if you want a story about a hero by whom you can feel inspired, look elsewhere. But if you want to read something imaginative and loaded with the stuff of dark fantasy, pick it up.
Some would say this book was wildly uneven -- for as many scenes of graphic rape and murder which go unpunished, there are as many scenes of genuine human longing and even some sentimentality-- but isn't life also uneven? BLIND DATE is extreme but there's really no other literary ride quite like it. Just open it and go with the flow.
If you're looking for moral lessons, look elsewhere; if you want a story about a hero by whom you can feel inspired, look elsewhere. But if you want to read something imaginative and loaded with the stuff of dark fantasy, pick it up.
Some would say this book was wildly uneven -- for as many scenes of graphic rape and murder which go unpunished, there are as many scenes of genuine human longing and even some sentimentality-- but isn't life also uneven? BLIND DATE is extreme but there's really no other literary ride quite like it. Just open it and go with the flow.
November 30, 2014
Whew! What a complex character is George Levanter! From Amazon: "Blind Date is a spectacular and erotically charged psychological novel that shows Jerzy Kosinski, author of Being There and The Painted Bird, at the height of his power. George Levanter is an idea man, a small investor, an international playboy, and a ruthless deal-maker whose life is delivered in a series of scorching encounters, each more incredible than the last. From Moscow to Paris, from a Manhattan skyscraper to a California mass murder, Blind Date is a dizzying vision of life among the beautiful people and the thrill-seekers."
October 5, 2017
det är inte en dålig bok men om man har i åtanke att det är samma författare som skrivit den otroliga the painted bird känns det platt, tråkigt och ytligt. det känns som att vissa avsnitt är skrivna bara för att chocka, men det chockar inte.
January 31, 2019
No me agradó mucho, son como muchas anécdotas en la vida de un personaje, muy variadas y extrañas pero que no están ligadas y sin ningún objetivo ni aspiración, en el cine le diría palomero para pasar el rato y ya.
April 8, 2019
The topic of this book and the depravity turned me off entirely. Although I did read to the end, I found it became increasingly disjointed and the ending leaves you with an abrupt finality without any satisfaction.
December 28, 2012
A strange yet erotic book!
June 18, 2015
I wanted to complain that the narrator's story of his life was rather disjointed but then I realized that anyone's life could be viewed that way.
September 28, 2022
w zasadzie jest to powieść o perypetiach alter ego samego pisarza, sytuacji politycznej, licznych romansach, seksie. nic specjalnego, jeśli nie liczyć wątków autobiograficznych, które są ciekawym faktem do odnotowania dla czytelnika
February 1, 2014
Jerzy Kosinski's "Blind Date" has greatly disappointed me. Perhaps even more than "The Devil Tree" that I have reviewed recently. I have yet to read "The Painted Bird" and "Being There" (presumably his best books), but based on the two mediocre novels, I am not awed by my compatriot's work. Mr. Kosinski clearly has two obsessions: with the rich and famous people and with sex. The latter can be forgiven; it has driven the work of many artists. However, the former is indefensible - it makes large portions of Kosinski's prose quite suitable for celebrity tabloids.
The protagonist of the story is George Levanter, an émigrée from Eastern Europe, and a rich investor (whatever the word means). The story is told in an episodic style - vignettes from various periods of his life are arranged in random order. There is a lot of Kosinski in Levanter: the Eastern European background, past struggles with Communist regime, a marriage to an extremely rich woman, and the sexual escapades of a very handsome and supremely confident man. The novel takes its title from an episode about horrible activities that Levanter participated in as a teenager. I have found these pages truly painful to read and their cruelty and brutality gratuitous.
Many episodes involve real people: we meet Stalin's daughter, Wojciech Frykowski, Jacques Monod, Charles Lindbergh, and Abigail Folger. We are shown glimpses of one of the most notorious murders in history, peppered with Kosinski's trademark sexual references. Some of the episodes are so mind-bogglingly incongruous and lame that one might suspect the author did not have a wastebasket.
In a rare deep insight Kosinski writes "Civilization is the result of sheer chance plus a thousand or two exceptional men and women of ideas and action." That's a true and profound statement, and Kosinski shows that despite the total randomness of life, determined people can achieve some of their goals. Yet the novel could be so much better if only it were not so focused on celebrities and details of sex life. A destitute Michael K. from Coetzee's novella is much more interesting than all Kosinski's billionaires put together. Coetzee's prose is often very painful to read as well, but the pain is spiritually awakening, while reading Kosinski's prose makes me feel soiled.
One and three quarter stars.
The protagonist of the story is George Levanter, an émigrée from Eastern Europe, and a rich investor (whatever the word means). The story is told in an episodic style - vignettes from various periods of his life are arranged in random order. There is a lot of Kosinski in Levanter: the Eastern European background, past struggles with Communist regime, a marriage to an extremely rich woman, and the sexual escapades of a very handsome and supremely confident man. The novel takes its title from an episode about horrible activities that Levanter participated in as a teenager. I have found these pages truly painful to read and their cruelty and brutality gratuitous.
Many episodes involve real people: we meet Stalin's daughter, Wojciech Frykowski, Jacques Monod, Charles Lindbergh, and Abigail Folger. We are shown glimpses of one of the most notorious murders in history, peppered with Kosinski's trademark sexual references. Some of the episodes are so mind-bogglingly incongruous and lame that one might suspect the author did not have a wastebasket.
In a rare deep insight Kosinski writes "Civilization is the result of sheer chance plus a thousand or two exceptional men and women of ideas and action." That's a true and profound statement, and Kosinski shows that despite the total randomness of life, determined people can achieve some of their goals. Yet the novel could be so much better if only it were not so focused on celebrities and details of sex life. A destitute Michael K. from Coetzee's novella is much more interesting than all Kosinski's billionaires put together. Coetzee's prose is often very painful to read as well, but the pain is spiritually awakening, while reading Kosinski's prose makes me feel soiled.
One and three quarter stars.
October 19, 2022
I did not finish this book. That is something I rarely did in the past but I'm trying to do more of.
I remember really being impressed by The Painted Bird and I've always been intrigued by the idea of Being There, though I've never gotten around to reading it. But trying to read this book really turned me off Kosinski. (I picked it up from a free library.)
At least by the time I gave up, the book is just a series of vignettes about a world-traveler and his experiences. Most of the time, this traveler isn't particularly likable. Occasionally he's truly horrible. (Spoiler: "Blind Date" is a rather bizarre euphemism for rape.) And occasionally he does things that are supposed to make him a hero. Most of these vignettes are unconnected to each other. There are a few that aren't and, right before I gave up, there was a suggestion that one minor character might have been present in a previous or upcoming vignette. (Alas, I will never find out.)
I'm not sure where it's going and I don't care. Levanter is unlikeable: he thinks he's smarter than everyone else, he likes showing people up, he's a rapist, he's inexplicably charming - we never know why the women are into him - and he is drifting through a novel with no plot (or rather many little plots that are, at least at the point I quit, entirely or nearly entirely disconnected from each other).
The little bio at the end which is supposed to explain why I should read this book does not do a good job of explaining why. Rather, it makes it seem like the shock value of some of this, as well as Kosinski's life story, is why I'm supposed to care. I don't.
I remember really being impressed by The Painted Bird and I've always been intrigued by the idea of Being There, though I've never gotten around to reading it. But trying to read this book really turned me off Kosinski. (I picked it up from a free library.)
At least by the time I gave up, the book is just a series of vignettes about a world-traveler and his experiences. Most of the time, this traveler isn't particularly likable. Occasionally he's truly horrible. (Spoiler: "Blind Date" is a rather bizarre euphemism for rape.) And occasionally he does things that are supposed to make him a hero. Most of these vignettes are unconnected to each other. There are a few that aren't and, right before I gave up, there was a suggestion that one minor character might have been present in a previous or upcoming vignette. (Alas, I will never find out.)
I'm not sure where it's going and I don't care. Levanter is unlikeable: he thinks he's smarter than everyone else, he likes showing people up, he's a rapist, he's inexplicably charming - we never know why the women are into him - and he is drifting through a novel with no plot (or rather many little plots that are, at least at the point I quit, entirely or nearly entirely disconnected from each other).
The little bio at the end which is supposed to explain why I should read this book does not do a good job of explaining why. Rather, it makes it seem like the shock value of some of this, as well as Kosinski's life story, is why I'm supposed to care. I don't.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 5, 2012
The "blind date" of the title makes its first appearance as a euphemism for rape, in which the person offering it, describes the criminal act as a necessary method for the male of the human species to relieve himself of the pressure to procreate. It is an awful and jarring description the novel's protagonist, George Levanter, takes to its literal instruction, but he does not encounter release, instead he is left with only unsatisfied guilt, and deep shame. The metaphor of amoral urge framed by the psychopathy of premeditated rape becomes the novel's premise. We witness George at the mercy of, or as the catalyst for, violent randomness told though the voice of an omniscient third person narrator, whose bloodless detachment might match the "blind date" rapist of the novel's title. This is less a novel and more a series of vignettes strung together by the chain of Levanter's life. It is a compelling read where a clear picture of existence is presented as cruel, violent, deterministic and chaotic. It doesn't pretend to offer answers. It exposes life as a series of predatory encounters where one's expectations meet the bitter reality of unforeseen consequence. It probably was written within the wake of Kosinski barely dodging the Sharon Tate massacre at the hands of the Manson family, and works that event into the story with graphic detail, to elaborate on the theme of unforeseen circumstance destroying the plans we imagine we will make of life.
December 3, 2018
Seda raamatut on raske kuhugi liigitada, väga omapärane lugemisvara igatahes.
Põhimõtteliselt on juttu ühest mehest, kellel on seljataga keeruline lapsepõlv ja noorus raudse eesriide taga ning kelle olevikki on omajagu kahtlane ja hämar. Ei teagi täpselt, kas ta on varas, väljapressija või palgamõrvar või kes iganes, paras avantürist.
Kõigest hoolimata on tegemist mehega, kellel on omaenda moraalne kompass, mis sõltub vähe ühiskondlikest normidest ja kaasinimeste arvamusest, aga ei luba teda ka mingil juhul südametunnistuseta kaabakaks pidada.
Paljude pirtsumate lugejate jaoks leidub siin ilmselt omajagu šokeerivat, aga kui sellest end mitte häirida lasta, saate ainulaadse absurdse tragi-erootilis-humoristliku lugemiskogemuse.
Kosiński ise oli samuti üsna vastuoluline tegelane, kelle elu kohta täit tõde vist polegi võimalik teada saada. „Kohtamine tundmatuga“ on ilmselt vähemalt mõningal määral autobiograafiline.
Põhimõtteliselt on juttu ühest mehest, kellel on seljataga keeruline lapsepõlv ja noorus raudse eesriide taga ning kelle olevikki on omajagu kahtlane ja hämar. Ei teagi täpselt, kas ta on varas, väljapressija või palgamõrvar või kes iganes, paras avantürist.
Kõigest hoolimata on tegemist mehega, kellel on omaenda moraalne kompass, mis sõltub vähe ühiskondlikest normidest ja kaasinimeste arvamusest, aga ei luba teda ka mingil juhul südametunnistuseta kaabakaks pidada.
Paljude pirtsumate lugejate jaoks leidub siin ilmselt omajagu šokeerivat, aga kui sellest end mitte häirida lasta, saate ainulaadse absurdse tragi-erootilis-humoristliku lugemiskogemuse.
Kosiński ise oli samuti üsna vastuoluline tegelane, kelle elu kohta täit tõde vist polegi võimalik teada saada. „Kohtamine tundmatuga“ on ilmselt vähemalt mõningal määral autobiograafiline.
March 1, 2017
Kosinski (the more socially manipulative and underwhelming Kafka) fails to really impress with Blind Date. When he drifts into his humorous introversions you could call this readable, possibly pleasant, but he rarely does and the vignettes (at the end of the day this book is just that) makes it seem somewhat worthless. 'That' rape passage is quite well delivered - painting a dire eye at the impunity of the white male intellect irrespective of its ripeness, chilling. His brief relationship with a transgender woman is serendipitously half baked and justifiably reaffirms his status as a somewhat cheap pornographer. It's just not quite there. Often Blind Date doesn't quite feel like it's in control of where it's going, which would be okay if Kosinski wasn't so conscious of where he thinks it's going.
August 13, 2016
Sice je Kosinski polish, ale tahle kniha moc polished nebyla. Příjemný to je (líbilo se mi, jak Kosinski dlabal na stavbu a valil si co ho napadlo), některý Levanterovy příhody jsou fakt dobrý a některý mi připomínaly příhody na Jégermeisterovi, ale celkově vzato jsem si říkal, proč já to vlastně pořád čtu, když ono to nakonec nikam nepovede. Takže asi stejný jako lít vodky do pěkný lesbičky. Jenže pak jsem si to jednou vzal do ruky když jsem v sobě měl drogy a bylo to daleko lepší, takže všem doporučuji, aby si ke čtení udělali čaj a vzali si nějakej ketamin, bude to daleko lepší. Dětem bych ketamin nedoporučoval, mohly by mít halucinace. Těm bych doporučil spíš koks nebo MDMA.
December 22, 2009
The story is more a series of vignettes, than an actual story. What makes this books considerably better than most is the authors ability to show life as it really is, a series of peaks and vallys where situations aren't always black and white and when doing the right thing often leads to negative repercussions when none were expected.
Many of the characters and situations are pulled from Kosinski's own life, which follow a non-linear path from his childhood in Eastern Europe to his immigration to the U.S. A very stimulating and interesting read.
Many of the characters and situations are pulled from Kosinski's own life, which follow a non-linear path from his childhood in Eastern Europe to his immigration to the U.S. A very stimulating and interesting read.
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