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Journey to the End of the Night (Ferdinand Bardamu #1)

by Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Ralph Manheim (Translator), William T. Vollmann (Afterword)

4.25 · Rating details · 22,645 Ratings · 1,200 Reviews

Louis-Ferdinand Celine's revulsion and anger at what he considered the idiocy and hypocrisy of society explodes from nearly every page of this novel. Filled with slang and obscenities and written in raw, colloquial language, Journey to the End of the Night is a literary symphony of violence, cruelty and obscene nihilism. This book shocked most critics when it was first pub ...more

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Paperback, 607 pages

Published May 17th 2006 by New Directions (first published 1932)

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Oct 20, 2016 Helen Ροζουλί Εωσφόρος Vernus Portitor Arcanus Ταμετούρο Αμούν Arnum rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: best

(...)Τί τρελοκομείο η στερημένη ζωή! Μια τάξη είναι η ζωή, κι η πλήξη είναι ο παιδονόμος της, που διαρκώς σε κατασκοπεύει. πρέπει πάση θυσία να μοιάζεις απασχολημένος με κάτι πολύ συναρπαστικό, ειδάλλως πλακώνει και σου ροκανίζει το μυαλό. Οταν η μέρα δεν είναι τίποτα άλλο από ένα σκέτο εικοσιτετράωρο, δεν υποφέρεται. Μια μακριά, σχεδόν αβάσταχτη ηδονή πρέπει να είναι η μέρα, μία μακριά συνουσία, θες δε θες.
Σου κατεβαίνουν λοιπόν σιχαμερές σκέψεις, όσο σ' αποβλακώνει η ανάγκη, όσο μέσα στο κάθε ...more

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Apr 01, 2011 Mike Puma rated it it was amazing

Recommends it for: good freakin' question

Shelves: new-directions-publishing, french-author, lit-fic, 2012

Whoa. Just finished, processing, mulling, wondering…what do I say? How do you prepare someone? Should someone be prepared (I wasn’t)? Imagine the most depressing story you’ve ever read (and I’ve read ALL of McCarthy), narrated by the angriest of narrators (who may mellow, then again, maybe readers simply become hardened), describing circumstances that are necessarily ugly (war, colonial Africa) or merely simply ugly (contemporary culture, old people, young people, other people), but then told wi

...more

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Jan 14, 2015 Jeffrey Keeten rated it really liked it

Shelves: the-french

“Not much music left inside us for life to dance to. Our youth has gone to the ends of the earth to die in the silence of the truth. And where, I ask you, can a man escape to, when he hasn't enough madness left inside him? The truth is an endless death agony. The truth is death. You have to choose: death or lies. I've never been able to kill myself.”

Toni Servillo is Jep Gambardella in The Great Beauty

I watched the Italian film The Great Beauty the other day. The film opens with a quote by Loui ...more

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May 17, 2007 Greg rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction

Apparently, for a week or so in June 1997 I either lost my sense of humor or felt some kind of glow of optimism that made me feel the misanthropic subject of this book was boring. My principle memories of reading this for the first time were a) being bored and b) buying a bunch of The Smiths and The Cure tapes at a garage sale.

For some reason when I saw this book sitting on my bookshelf last week I thought I'd give it another try. Why? I don't know exactly. I have lots of unread books, but I fe Apparently, for a week or so in June 1997 I either lost my sense of humor or felt some kind of glow of optimism that made me feel the misanthropic subject of this book was boring. My principle memories of reading this for the first time were a) being bored and b) buying a bunch of The Smiths and The Cure tapes at a garage sale.

For some reason when I saw this book sitting on my bookshelf last week I thought I'd give it another try. Why? I don't know exactly. I have lots of unread books, but I felt like I might have not gotten everything I could have from the book.

This time I quite enjoyed the book. It's a nice antidote to any feelings that things were probably better 'back in the day', it's good to cleanse the mental palate of this particular delusion now and again. Things were bad then too, which means that if there is a constant in lots and lots o' people being worthy of disgust, then to grumble about it too much can be i) fun, but ii) a tautology and thus ii.a) not really relevant and ii.b) not at all applicable to the discourse of progress/barbarism/ whatever you want to call it. For example; does this mean that most people being shitty fucking assholes is relevant to all of those douchebags wandering around oblivious to anything but their own phone conversations? Is pointing out all of the assholes and defining them as such, really any different than saying all people have heads, and most of them have hair on their heads? And then basing most everything you say about the headedness/hairedness of people? No! Instead is it possible that in a Kantian categorical something or other people can be a priori described as assholes? All of them of course except for you and your loved ones, and me and my loved ones. We are of course the exception. Now, I'm not saying everyone is a piece of shit. And neither is Céline, in fact there is one character who isn't in the book!! One!! There is hope for us yet, sadly that one decent person is stuck sitting on a river in Africa with one other person who is an asshole. But he's out there, you know sort of Kurtz like.

Now I could do a number of things here. I could give a plot synopsis, aka write a book report. I could try to come up with some kind of serious analysis of the book. I could try to write a 'mock' Céline style something or other, that probably wouldn't be too funny. I could ignore the book altogether and write about myself, and use the book as a vague jumping off point; i.e., write all about the types of people I hate and make myself Céline like. I could also post some pictures of animals, which I actually like to do because then I can come back and look at them later and I figure maybe you do too. I could do all kinds of things. I could just end the review here and then strike up a conversation with another goodreader who would actually be me in disguise, but we'd be really witty and surprisingly similarly read in titles that aren't that common; of course I would vote for me too, and if you tried to call me on it I would just ignore you and change topic with myself. I could do any of these things. There are so many choices, and it is so overwhelming in the various ways I can try to fleece votes, which can be cashed in for all the AMAZING prizes that are only available to the people who are on the best reviewer list. Please don't ask for details about these prizes, I've said too much already. ...more

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Jul 02, 2012 Ben Loory rated it it was amazing

just finished reading it and it really feels like it might be the central book of the entire 20th century. i see catch-22 and henry miller and william burroughs and kerouac and sartre and beckett and bukowski and vonnegut and hunter s. thompson and bret easton ellis and about a million other people... celine's voice is just so clear now, standing behind all of them... it's not even that i like the book so much (though it's ferocious and fun and has a lot of great lines), it's just that it's like ...more

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Jun 28, 2016 Steven Godin rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: favourites, french, historical, philosophical

From the muddy battlegrounds of the great war and the sweltering infested jungles of French colonial Africa, to his discovery of america where he takes a job in an industrial Detroit and his return to the suburbs of Paris to work as a doctor before finally taking employment in a mental asylum, we follow Céline's alter ego Bardamu with a misanthropic first person narrative through the trials and tribulations of life and trying to make sense of the world around him. Told as a semi-autobiographical ...more

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Aug 09, 2010 RandomAnthony rated it it was amazing

Shelves: favorites

Celine’s Journey to the End of Night is a towering achievement in literary observation through a narrator incapable of self-delusion and a less than stringent filter between his thoughts and his audience. Plus, it’s funny as hell.

The novel reads as the author’s travelogue through war-torn Europe, remote Africa, industrialized America, and post-war France. I have no idea how much of Journey to the End of Night is factual and how much is fiction, and I don’t care either way. At points Celine sound Celine’s Journey to the End of Night is a towering achievement in literary observation through a narrator incapable of self-delusion and a less than stringent filter between his thoughts and his audience. Plus, it’s funny as hell.

The novel reads as the author’s travelogue through war-torn Europe, remote Africa, industrialized America, and post-war France. I have no idea how much of Journey to the End of Night is factual and how much is fiction, and I don’t care either way. At points Celine sounds like a depraved Jonathan Swift but just as often functions as a spiritual ancestor of Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. He riffs on everything from dreary Detroit factories to over-the-top descriptions of African tribal life. He transcends the easy lure of exotic locales by focusing on human relationships in all their debauched, fugacious forms. You know how when people say things like, “oh, people are generally good”? Celine would, ahem, disagree. He’s not mindlessly misanthropic; you get the feeling that if he could find evidence of pure-heartedness (and he thinks children have a shot) he would report it, but he’s not going to lie to make you feel better (unless he does, but then he’ll chastise himself later). In turn, he ditches the subtle narrative convention of “happy endings” (not the kind you get on the side of the interstate, but my guess is Celine would have no problem visiting that type of establishment) and instead wanders through myriad landscapes, especially focusing on the subcultures of the poor and twisted. He’s not their champion, and he’s not going to paint either a pastoral picture of simple poverty or portray the neighborhood residents as mindless animals, but if he had to deviate from the mean he’d probably lean toward the latter. Celine is a master at characterizing the absolute insanity of, for example, war. Instead of singing gentle folk songs against military action he addresses the insane expectation of his military leaders to dodge German bullets in the middle of French farmland roads. And his wide-eyed perceptions of the depths of humanity are more insightful than ponderous. If Celine is trying to teach you a lesson it’s that most human beings are scratching together an existence day to day, keeping their bones and body intact, searching after base pleasures, and really, kind of messed up. People aren’t to blame for this: Journey isn’t a self-help guide (unless, um, you’re looking to seduce French women). But lest I sound as if this book is 344 pages of depressing observation after depressing observation, Celine finds the humor and objectivity to step outside the masquerade and in turn possibly transcend artifice, even for a little while. And although Celine doesn’t equate that transcendence with morality, and might mock me mercilessly for even mentioning the possibility, by acknowledging human need and darkness in all its plain, everyday forms one takes the first step in becoming something other than what some might perceive is the inevitable norm. Celine, for all his misanthropy, carries hope.

I needed close to four weeks to finish off this book; I read slowly and carefully and after some sessions felt exhilarated and exhausted. Don’t give up if after the first twenty pages you think this book will be primarily about Celine’s stretch in the French military. He moves out of his war narration fairly quickly. I also understand that the author was a real-life asshole. I can’t speak for that. His novel stands among the best and most original I have ever read. Journey to the End of the Night, a dark classic of the highest caliber, is a whirlwind of psychological investigation, frenzied comedy, and fascinating discourse on human nature.
...more

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Sep 26, 2016 Nikos Tsentemeidis rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: favorite, french-literature

Από τα καλύτερα έργα της παγκόσμιας λογοτεχνίας. Αντάξιο των Αδερφών Καραμάζοφ και του Αναζητώντας τον χαμένο χρόνο. Αριστούργημα χωρίς αμφισβήτηση. Μιλάει στην ψυχή του ανθρώπου, για πράγματα που σπανίως λέγονται από τον άνθρωπο. Θα το χαρακτήριζα ρεαλιστικό, κυνικό. Η αφήγηση του ήρωα σε κάθε περίπτωση είναι χειμαρρώδης και συγκλονίζει.

Το έργο χωρίζεται σε τέσσερα μέρη, θίγοντας αντιστοίχως τέσσερα μεγάλα θέματα. Το πρώτο λαμβάνει χώρα την περίοδο του Α’ Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου, μιλώντας για την σκ Από τα καλύτερα έργα της παγκόσμιας λογοτεχνίας. Αντάξιο των Αδερφών Καραμάζοφ και του Αναζητώντας τον χαμένο χρόνο. Αριστούργημα χωρίς αμφισβήτηση. Μιλάει στην ψυχή του ανθρώπου, για πράγματα που σπανίως λέγονται από τον άνθρωπο. Θα το χαρακτήριζα ρεαλιστικό, κυνικό. Η αφήγηση του ήρωα σε κάθε περίπτωση είναι χειμαρρώδης και συγκλονίζει.

Το έργο χωρίζεται σε τέσσερα μέρη, θίγοντας αντιστοίχως τέσσερα μεγάλα θέματα. Το πρώτο λαμβάνει χώρα την περίοδο του Α’ Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου, μιλώντας για την σκληρότητα και τα όρια του ανθρώπου. Το δεύτερο, μας μεταφέρει στην δυτική Αφρική, στην ζούγκλα αναδεικνύοντας τον ρατσισμό. Το τρίτο αφορά τη μετανάστευση στην Αμερική των αρχών του 20ού αιώνα, με τις πρωτόγνωρες συνθήκες εργασίας στις φάμπρικες με τους ανθρώπους-μηχανές και τέλος η επιστροφή στην μεταπολεμική Γαλλία και η προσπάθεια του ανθρώπου να σταθεί παλεύοντας με την φτώχεια.

Ο αφηγητής είναι σκληρός με όλα και με όλους. Γίνεται καυστικός ακόμα και με τον εαυτό του. Καταφέρνει μόλις σε 600 σελίδες, τόσο αριστοτεχνικά, να θίξει φλέγοντα ζητήματα της ανθρωπότητας. Παρουσιάζει, τη μία στιγμή την ηθική και αμέσως μετά την ανηθικότητα. Αφήνει έντονο το στίγμα κάθε εποχής και τόπου που περιγράφει, καθώς τα έχει ζήσει. Σπουδαίο γεγονός, η γλώσσα που χρησιμοποιεί, η λαϊκή ομιλούμενη γλώσσα, σε καλούπια αστικά, δίνοντας ένα αποτέλεσμα ουσιαστικό και αξιοθαύμαστο.

Μου έκανε αρνητική εντύπωση, διαβάζοντας το βιογραφικό του συγγραφέα, πριν ξεκινήσω, το πόσο αντισημίτης και φιλοναζιστής ήταν. Παρ’ όλα αυτά, η πιο εύστοχη απάντηση, είναι αυτή του Philip Roth,την οποία παραθέτω αυτούσια: «Για να πω την αλήθεια, στη Γαλλία, ο «Προυστ» μου είναι ο Σελίν! Ιδού ένας πολύ μεγάλος συγγραφέας. Ακόμα και αν ο αντισημιτισμός του τον καθιστά πλάσμα ελεεινό, ανυπόφορο. Για να τον διαβάσω, πρέπει να αναστείλω την εβραϊκή μου συνείδηση, αλλά το κάνω, γιατί ο αντισημιτισμός του δεν βρίσκεται στην καρδιά των βιβλίων του. Ο Σελίν είναι μεγάλος ελευθερωτής. Νιώθω να με καλεί η φωνή του»

Κάποια αποσπάσματα, από τα πολλά που με έκαναν να ξαναδιαβάσω και να σκεφτώ.

«Ναι, πέρα για πέρα άνανδρος, Λόλα, τον αρνούμαι τον πόλεμο με ό,τι έχει μέσα… Δεν τον θρηνώ εγώ … Δεν παραιτούμαι εγώ… Δεν τον μοιρολογάω… Τον αρνούμαι καθαρά και ξάστερα, κι όλους μαζί τους λεβέντες που περιέχει, δε θέλω να ‘χω τίποτα να κάνω μαζί τους, μαζί του. Δεν πα να ‘ναι εννιακόσια ογδόντα πέντε εκατομμύρια του λόγου τους κι εγώ μόνο ένας, αυτοί έχουν άδικο, Λόλα, κι εγώ δίκιο, γιατί μόνο εγώ ξέρω τι θέλω»

«Μιας και ήταν όλα Θέατρο, έπρεπε να παίξουμε, δεν υπάρχει τίποτα πιο γελοίο και πιο εκνευριστικό, είναι αλήθεια, από έναν παθητικό θεατή ανεβασμένο κατά τύχη στο σανίδι. Άμα βρεθείς πάνω κει, πρέπει να πάρεις το αρμόζον ύφος, να κουνηθείς, να παίξεις, να το πάρεις απόφαση ή να χαθείς.»
«Όταν μένεις καιρό σ’ ένα μέρος, τα πράγματα κι οι άνθρωποι ξεβρακώνονται, σαπίζουν κι αρχίζουν να βρομάνε, επίτηδες για σένα.»

«Οι άνθρωποι γραπώνονται απ’ τις άθλιες αναμνήσεις τους, απ’ όλες τις δυστυχίες τους, και δεν μπορείς να τους ξαγκιστρώσεις από δαύτες. Είναι για την ψυχή τους μια κάποια απασχόληση. Εκδικούνται για την αδικία του σήμερα ζυμώνοντας εντός τους το αύριο με σκατά. Δίκαιοι και δειλοί, στο βάθος. Είναι η φύση τους.»

Υ.Γ. Η μετάφραση, χωρίς να έχω την εμπειρία του πρωτότυπου, είναι επίσης συγκλονιστική.
...more

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Jan 05, 2008 Alison rated it liked it

Recommends it for: Teenagers that just don't give a fuck; Fans of Burroughs and Jim Morrison (probably also teenagers)

Fifteen years of sitting on my bookshelves and I finally get around to reading it. This is a little bit sad, because I would have loved this book fifteen years ago, when I believed bitter misanthropy and self-indulgent misery were the only true lenses through which humanity should be viewed. Of course, I was in high school at the time (and it was boarding school at that),so that explained it.

At age thirty-two, Journey to the End of the Night set somewhat differently with me. Ferdinand Bardamu's Fifteen years of sitting on my bookshelves and I finally get around to reading it. This is a little bit sad, because I would have loved this book fifteen years ago, when I believed bitter misanthropy and self-indulgent misery were the only true lenses through which humanity should be viewed. Of course, I was in high school at the time (and it was boarding school at that),so that explained it.

At age thirty-two, Journey to the End of the Night set somewhat differently with me. Ferdinand Bardamu's miserable picaresque travails seem more absurd than sympathetic. I read him as foolish and vain and naive, inclined to rattle off world-weary grand pronouncements about the state of civilization. The sort of nihilist one-liners you might expect to find scrawled on the back of a bathroom door in the French Department at your local state university. I'm not entirely sure whether Celine intended his narrator to be a humorous character. Maybe he did. But the overarching, unmitigated darkness and misery of the book is so one-note after about page 100, I found myself wondering whether if it wasn't some elaborate prank, a self-satire. And every now and then, I would get a hint of this. Bardamu's Kafka-esque journey to Africa (during which he manages to incur the wrath of every other person on the ship, for no reason, and barely escapes capital punishment at the hands of a vigilante posse headed up by evil women). His journey out of Africa in the throes of malarial hallucinations (by far, my favorite part of the book . . . I had such high hopes when the Princess of Spain showed up) and subsequent job as a flea-counter at Ellis Island. And the ever-elusive Robinson.

What's frustrating is that parts of this book were brilliant. The language was frequently stunning. Some of the secondary characters were memorable. And maybe it's just that I've grown jaded (though not as jaded as Bardamu) with age. Celine's influence has been substantial. Sartre, Kerouac, Heller, Vonnegut, Robbe-Grillet, Burroughs, and Bukowski count him as a significant influence. And I've read those authors. I even like a couple of them (though Burroughs and Kerouac are two of the most overrated authors in the history of literature and Bukowski is, simply, a complete fucking joke . . . more on that later). Maybe it's just that having read all that followed, I am no longer able to appreciate the "genius" of the original. Or perhaps that's better expressed this way:

A lot of what is good about Journey to the End of the Night is better when Beckett writes it.

...more

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Nov 23, 2013 Ian "Marvin" Grayejoy rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: frogs, reviews, reviews-4-stars, read-2015

Our Journey...

"To travel is very useful, it makes the imagination work, the rest is just delusion and pain. Our journey is entirely imaginary, which is its strength."

Celine's first novel begins with the words, "Here's how it started" and finishes "...and that would be the end of us."

In between is a journey that takes in childhood, family life, service in the great war, recuperation in a hospital, an adventure in the heart of darkness of colonial Africa, a liberating voyage across the Atlantic, t ...more

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Nov 01, 2011 Marco Tamborrino rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Esistono degli scrittori mediocri e degli scrittori discreti. Poi vengono quelli bravi e ancora dopo quelli bravissimi. Infine, sull'ultimo gradino, c'è Céline.

Ho impiegato due mesi per leggere uno dei più bei libri che mi sia mai capitato tra le mani. Una fatica enorme, sul serio. Ogni pagina è ricca di cinismo, le parole si rincorrono tra annichilimento e comicità come mai nessun altro autore ha osato fare. Blasfemo, provocante, immorale, sporco, depravato. Ma anche commovente e dolce, fino ad Esistono degli scrittori mediocri e degli scrittori discreti. Poi vengono quelli bravi e ancora dopo quelli bravissimi. Infine, sull'ultimo gradino, c'è Céline.

Ho impiegato due mesi per leggere uno dei più bei libri che mi sia mai capitato tra le mani. Una fatica enorme, sul serio. Ogni pagina è ricca di cinismo, le parole si rincorrono tra annichilimento e comicità come mai nessun altro autore ha osato fare. Blasfemo, provocante, immorale, sporco, depravato. Ma anche commovente e dolce, fino ad arrivare a renderti immensamente triste. Céline mischia tutto questo con una bravura assurda. Un tizio che era un medico e che poi è stato esiliato per antisemitismo. Un nazista, anche. Ma con la penna è Dio. Sembra essere passato sulla terra per raccontare a noi poveri idioti la verità sulla vita. Tutto il resto della letteratura a confronto è zero. Un romanzo che fa scandalo per quello che dice, per quello che rivela. Come vanno realmente le cose tra gli uomini. L'ipocrisia messa a nudo nella sua totalità.

Céline è passato prima per gli orrori della Grande Guerra e le trincee delle Fiandre, poi è finito nelle colonie africane. È stato a New York e ha conosciuto la bella America delle donne e della gente ricca così come la brutta America delle catene di montaggio a Detroit. Infine è tornato in Europa, a Parigi, in tempo di crisi, a guadagnarsi da vivere a buttare la sua esistenza nella periferia della capitale francese, tra gente moralmente abietta e priva di ogni bene materiale. Céline però non fa sconti neanche con se stesso. Il protagonista, Ferdinand Bardamu, è la sua immagine, il suo riflesso. Spesso si rimprovera nei suoi pensieri, ma le sue azioni riconducono sempre a un comportamento antieroico e umanamente vero. Pensate solamente alle circostanze di cortesia. Quando salutate una persona anche se vi sta immensamente sulle palle o le fate gli auguri di compleanno. Céline lo dice. Dice che gli uomini fanno sempre così, che il loro è un continuo mentire a tutti, un persistere a comportarsi falsamente, sempre, per tutta la vita, finché ci si accorge che è troppo tardi per rimediare e si muore. È lo scandalo della gente senza Dio, senza patria, senza amici, senza moglie, senza una casa, una famiglia, una città propria. È l'errare umano sia nell'animo che nel corpo. Ci si deteriora, ci si ammala. Non c'è niente da fare. Rimane solo la scelta della morte. Perché il mondo è orribile, e la felicità se ne va via in fretta. Anche Bardamu l'ha conosciuta, la felicità. In America, con Molly. E Céline a proposito ci lascia un passo che è forse uno dei più bei passi d'amore mai scritti: "Buona, ammirevole Molly, vorrei se può ancora leggermi, da un posto che non conosco, che lei sapesse che non sono cambiato per lei, che l'amo ancora e sempre, a modo mio, che lei può venire qui quando vuole a dividere il mio pane e il mio destino furtivo. Se lei non è più bella, ebbene tanto peggio! Ci arrangeremo! Ho conservato tanto della sua bellezza in me, così viva, così calda che ne ho ancora per tutti e due e per me almeno vent'anni ancora, il tempo di arrivare alla fine. Per lasciarla mi ci è voluta proprio della follia, della specie più brutta e fredda. Comunque, ho difeso la mia anima fino ad oggi e se la morte, domani, venisse a prendermi, non sarei, ne sono certo, mai tanto freddo, cialtrone, volgare come gli altri, per quel tanto di gentilezza e di sogno che Molly mi ha regalato nel corso di qualche mese d'America". Un pezzo del genere non andrebbe neanche commentato. Non è facile intuirne l'importanza, non è immediato. La levatura culturale è evidente solo dopo averlo riletto tre, cinque, dieci volte. Sta tutta qui, l'immensità di Céline. Le parole che ne fanno uno dei massimi scrittori mai esistiti. Nella profondità dell'accostamento di queste parole.

A tratti delirante, la narrazione distende su innumerevoli argomenti, fino a toccare praticamente tutti i sentimenti umani. È sorprendente la forza evocativa del raccontare, perché di mostrato c'è ben poco. Ogni ambiente sembra evanescente, un miraggio, qualcosa di poco solido e mal costruito, ma in realtà è lo stile di Céline che arriva al limite del vero, del conosciuto. Quando Bardamu è in Africa, c'è la descrizione di un tramonto che è da brividi. Te lo immagini poco, quel tramonto. Ma la descrizione rimane da brividi.

"Sono tornato a trovare Molly e le ho raccontato tutto. Per nascondermi la pena che le facevo, s'è data un gran daffare, ma comunque non era difficile vedere che ce l'aveva. L'abbracciavo più spesso adesso ma era un dispiacere profondo il suo, più vero che da noi, perché noialtri abbiamo piuttosto l'abitudine di dirlo più grosso di quel che è. Con gli americani è il contrario. Non osano capire, ammetterlo. È un po' umiliante, ma comunque, è proprio pena, non è orgoglio, non è nemmeno gelosia, né scene, è nient'altro che la vera pena del cuore e bisogna ben dirsi che tutto questo ci manca dentro e quanto al piacere di provare della pena siamo a secco. Ci vergogniamo di non essere ricchi di cuore e di tutto e anche d'aver comunque giudicato l'umanità più bassa di quel che in fondo è davvero". Oltre questo cinismo chiunque può notare una vena di speranza, una dolcezza d'animo poco comune. Più nichilista diventa Bardamu (così come Céline), più i pochi passi dove traspare la gentilezza sono delicati e unici. Fanno tenerezza. Ci ridanno quel poco di gioia che ci è rimasta da una lettura così moralmente negativa. È il semplice ritratto dell'uomo. Del resto, come dice lo stesso Céline: "La tristezza del mondo assale gli esseri come può, ma ad assalirli sembra che ci riesca quasi sempre". Non siamo forse noi una prova vivente di questa cosa?

La parte più ironica e comica è paradossalmente quella della guerra. Eccetto alcuni momenti di lucidità, non si riesce mai a capire bene cosa accada, sennonché Bardamu odia profondamente la guerra, e all'inizio asserisce perfino che non riesce a capacitarsi come i tedeschi, cui cui fino a qualche mese prima conversava con tutta tranquillità, gli stessero sparando. "Dunque niente errori? Quello spararsi addosso che si faceva, così, senza nemmeno vedersi, non era proibito! Quello faceva parte delle cose che si possono fare senza meritarsi una bella sgridata. Era perfino riconosciuto, incoraggiato senza dubbio da gente seria, come le lotterie, i fidanzamenti, la caccia coi cani!... Niente da dire. Di colpo scoprivo la guerra tutta intera. Ero sverginato". Forse non tutti sanno che la psicanalisi è nata proprio dopo la Grande Guerra. Dal fronte tornavano i soldati mezzi matti per gli orrori di morte con cui si erano ritrovati a contatto, e in qualche modo bisognava curarli. Ironico, tra l'altro, il fatto che anche Bardamu abbia avuto dei problemi di salute mentale, in seguito alla sua esperienza di guerra, e che abbia mentito volontariamente ai medici per non essere fucilato. Ma poi cosa resta per chi rimane vivo? Un andare avanti trascinandosi inutilmente, parafrasando Céline. Un invecchiare e perdere l'occasione di vivere come si dovrebbe vivere. Alla fine, secondo lui, siamo tutti delle carogne, degli inutili sacchi di carne. Be', come dargli torto. "Quel che è peggio è che uno si chiede come l'indomani troverà quel po' di forza per continuare a fare quel che ha fatto il giorno prima e poi già da tanto tempo, dove troverà la forza per quelle iniziative sceme, quei mille progetti che non arrivano a niente, quei tentativi per uscire dalla necessità opprimente, tentativi che abortiscono sempre, e tutti per arrivare a convincersi una volta per tutte che il destino è invincibile, che bisogna sempre ricadere ai piedi della muraglia, ogni sera, sotto l'angoscia dell'indomani, sempre più precario, più sordido. Forse è l'età che sopraggiunge, traditoria, e ci annuncia il peggio. Non si ha più molta musica in sé per far ballare la vita, ecco. Tutta la gioventù è già andata a morire in capo al mondo nel silenzio della verità. E dove andar fuori, ve lo chiedo, quando uno non ha più dentro una quantità sufficiente di delirio? La verità, è un'agonia che non finisce mai. La verità di questo mondo è la morte. Bisogna scegliere, morire o mentire. Non ho mai potuto uccidermi io". Per l'appunto, dove troviamo la forza di alzarci alla mattina? Qui Céline non ce lo dice, ma io credo che venga dalle persone cui siamo più affezionati. È un'ipotesi non contemplata nel mondo di Bardamu, dove tutti gli esseri umani, a parte pochi (tra cui Molly e Robinson), sono meschini falsi e adulatori, dove niente è puro. L'uomo è marcio e continua a marcire. Niente da fare. Quest'opera è l'incarnazione del nichilismo.

"L'egoismo degli esseri che si sono mescolati alla nostra vita, quando si pensa a loro, da vecchi, si dimostra innegabile, cioè come se fosse d'acciaio, di platino, e persino più durevole del tempo stesso". Alla fin fine si potrebbe dire che Céline dice le stesse cose per tutto il romanzo, ma con parole diverse. C'è da dire che non mi aspettavo il finale tragico che c'è stato. Avrei voluto forse una consapevolezza positiva del protagonista, ma non sono stato accontentato. Tutta la narrazione è costellata di eventi più o meno drammatici, come l'episodio di Bébert, che personalmente è quello che più mi ha toccato. C'è stata quasi la lacrimuccia. Incredibile, dato il cinismo con cui Céline descriveva il tutto. Eppure io trovavo un dispiacere e una sincera commozione in mezzo ai lunghissimi periodi negativi. Forse sono troppo buono. "Si è mai visto qualcuno scendere all'inferno per sostituire un altro? Mai. Si vede che ce lo butta giù. È tutto". Non ci leggete anche voi, in queste parole, un'insana voglia da parte di Bardamu di interpretare colui che scenderebbe all'inferno per sostituire qualcuno? Lui lo farebbe, ma agisce da essere umano. La usa un po' come scusa, questa argomentazione. "Era solo dentro di me che quello capitava, per farmi sempre la stessa domanda. Ho finito per addormentarmi sulla domanda, nella mia notte privata, quella bara, tanto ero stanco di camminare e di non trovare niente". Céline riesce a dirci, con pochissime parole, quanto ci sia dentro ogni uomo, quanti interrogativi ci poniamo nella vita, dimenticandoceli magari appena ci addormentiamo alla sera. È di una tristezza infinita. Che poi, è proprio così che facciamo nella vita vera. Può ognuno di noi affermare con tristezza che si offrirebbe di morire in cambio di qualcun altro? Un bambino magari. Uno sconosciuto. Invece, in tanti casi, non salveremmo neanche chi amiamo e ci ama. Alcuni lo farebbero. Altri no. Non possiamo saperlo se non nelle condizioni specifiche. "Tanto vale non farsi illusioni, la gente non ha niente da dirsi, ognuno parla soltanto delle proprie pene personali, si capisce".

Molti si staranno chiedendo dove voglia andare a parare. Oppure si stanno chiedendo se non intenda fare altro che un elenco dei temi trattati da Céline riportando i dovuti esempi. Voglio solo dirvi che questo romanzo è un'opera di una portata abnorme, che leggerlo potrà solo arricchirvi ma al tempo stesso anche demolire le vostre convinzioni. È un inferno leggerlo. Proprio un viaggio, come dice il titolo. La notte è l'oscurità che ci avvolge. La miseria umana. E il libro è appunto un viaggio ai confini di questa miseria. "Scoppieremmo se avessimo un po' di coraggio, ci limitiamo a decadere da un giorno all'altro. La nostra tortura prediletta è rinchiusa lì, atomica, nella nostra stessa pelle, col nostro orgoglio". Un tale accostamento di termini varebbe non uno, ma dieci premi nobel. Tanti stupidi scribacchini si sono aggiudicati quel premio, ma Céline no, Céline era antisemita e quindi niente Nobel. Ma eccolo qui, tra gli immortali, a mettere crudelmente a nudo la nsotra schifezza interiore e morale, a dirci che l'uomo è solo una contraddizione con le gambe.

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Dec 05, 2016 Asiye Dilara Han rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: favoriler, hakan-gunday

Teşekkürle başlamak istiyorum yorumuma. Öncelikle böyle bir kitabı yazabilecek cesarette biri olduğu için Céline'e; her röportajında on dört yaşından beri sürekli olarak tekrar tekrar bu kitabı okuduğunu söyleyip okumama sebep olduğu için Hakan Günday'a; ama -bence- en önemlisi, bu kadar muhteşem bir çeviri yaptığı, o güzelim dipnotları ekleyerek anlaşılmadık tek bir nokta bırakmadığı, insanın aklını başından alan, gülümseten, dünyanın en tatlı sonsözünü yazdığı için Yiğit Bener'e çok, çok, çok ...more

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Jul 15, 2015 Pooya Kiani rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: favourites, novel-رمان, auto-biography-خودزندگینامه

یک کوه. یک سفر. یک مرگ. به زودی یک بغل نکته از این شاهکار مینویسم. بار دومی که میخونیش تازه متن به چشم میآد و فرم خودنمایی میکنه. بینظیر. ...more

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Nov 17, 2013 Paul rated it liked it

Shelves: french-novels

This is undoubtedly one of the great novels. It is misanthropic in the extreme; the author really doesn’t like anyone, including himself. Often written in the vernacular, brutal, comic and ranging over three continents and a World War. There is a strong element of the autobiographical in it. It has also influenced more great writers than you can shake a sock at. The list is a remarkable one; Beckett, Sartre (briefly). Genet, Barthes, Miller, Bukowski, Heller, Vonnegut, Ken Kesey, Kerouac, Gunter This is undoubtedly one of the great novels. It is misanthropic in the extreme; the author really doesn’t like anyone, including himself. Often written in the vernacular, brutal, comic and ranging over three continents and a World War. There is a strong element of the autobiographical in it. It has also influenced more great writers than you can shake a sock at. The list is a remarkable one; Beckett, Sartre (briefly). Genet, Barthes, Miller, Bukowski, Heller, Vonnegut, Ken Kesey, Kerouac, Gunter Grass, Burroughs to name a few. Burroughs and Ginsberg both visited him towards the end of his life. Journey was published in 1932 and was his first novel; it is undoubtedly a remarkable achievement.
Those of you who know me may be sensing a but! Well, mostly the foibles of writers are forgivable; we all have them. Celine had his fair share.
In 1937 Celine wrote a tract called Trifles for a Massacre; the first of three tracts. They were rabidly anti-Semitic and racist. Celine threw his lot in with the Nazis and argued for an alliance between France and Germany.
“Who is the true friend of the people? Fascism is.”
“We do not think enough about the protection of the white Aryan race. Now is the time to act, because tomorrow will be too late.”
Once France had fallen Celine supported the Nazis. The head of propaganda for the Nazis in France, Payr, was of the opinion that Celine was too extreme to be helpful.
After the war Celine had to leave France as he was wanted as a collaborator. His opinions did not really change; he became what we would now term a Holocaust denier and in 1957 said that white Aryan Christian civilization ended with the battle of Stalingrad.
John Banville called this the best novel ever written by a far-right sympathizer and I think he may be right. It is also pertinent to bear in mind that many of Celine’s fellow writers fell for the Soviet system rather than fascism. Coincidentally I am reading The Gulag Archipelago at the moment and Stalin also murdered many millions of his fellow countrymen in the name of peace and an ideal society. The difference with those who followed the Soviet path is that most of them abandoned it when it became clear what Marxist-Leninist practice actually involved. Celine stuck to his beliefs.
Interesting to note that the other books I am reading; Orlando, The Gulag Archipelago and The Recognitions, all have a lower average rating than Journey. That, for me, is a bit of a conundrum; whilst it is good and a seminal influence on the Beat generation (that, of course might prejudice some of you against it!), it isn’t in the top rank.
Celine is in the tradition of Balzac, Zola and many of the great French writers. There is also a touch of the Don Quixote about it with the character of Robinson (who crops up fairly regularly) acting as a sort of Sancho Panza. There is a sort of picaresque nihilism about the narrator, Ferdinand Bardamu. The malarial hallucinatory passages in French colonial Africa are pure Heart of Darkness and the industrial passages in America have a touch of Upton Sinclair.
It is ultimately a pessimistic reflection on life. Some may look at ordinary life and people and see nobility, beauty and struggle; Celine sees ugliness, bestiality and pointlessness. I was reminded of the end of a poem by Larkin to sum the whole thing up

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

3.5 stars

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Oct 10, 2012 MJ Nicholls rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Recommended to MJ by: Mike Puma

Shelves: novels, pernod-and-gauloises

A full-on misanthropic epic, like if E.M. Cioran met Thom Yorke for a fly pie in a Nigerian slum. Céline is a deliberately choppy, lawless stylist, Dostoevskian in his fondness for the nerve-racked ellipsis and the hysterical exclamation point (tics that would characterise his later, practically unreadable, work). Bardamu is the Céline stand-in whose detached cruelty acts as a necessary galvaniser for his adventures in WWI, French-occupied African hinterlands and a stint in a freshly industriali ...more

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Jun 08, 2017 Kamrani Adnan rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

و این هم از سفر به انتهای شب...یک شاهکار فراموش نشدنی

بعد از کودکی ونوجوانی فردینان در لابلای ورقههای مرگ قسطی، که درکوچه پسکوچه های پاریس با فردینان میدویدیم، حالا با فردینان عزیز،
وسط میدان جنگ هستیم، جنگی تمام عیار، جنگی که تا آخرین فقیرفقرا را نکشد، سیر نمیشود.
به آفریقا رفتیم، آفریقایی که لبریز از فلاکت و ظلمست، زیر آفتاب سوزان و آشنایی با بومیهایی که آنها را وحشی میخوانیم، درحالیکه ما به سرزمین آنها تجاوز کردیم!
به آمریکا هم رفتیم، آمریکای حیران و همیشه سرگردان، آمریکایی که همیشه در آغوشِ هیجا ...more

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Dec 04, 2014 Sidharth Vardhan rated it really liked it

Shelves: europe, list-guardian-1000, list-1001, chandler-s-box, list-501, bio-memoir, unreliable-narrator, list-le-monde, war-genocide, list-guardian-100, list-world-library

“The sadness of the world has different ways of getting to people, but it seems to succeed almost every time.”

"When you start hiding from people, it's a sign that you're afraid to play with them. That in itself is a disease. We should try to find out why we refuse to get cured of loneliness. "

Reading Journey is like listening to a drunk old man - the kind one sees in those cowboy movies, telling you why his life sucks. He can't talk about a woman without talking about her legs and there are w ...more

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Jun 21, 2016 Perry rated it really liked it

Warning: If you've experienced melancholia or been diagnosed with depression, reading this novel may be inadvisable.
<3.7 stars>

"A cynic can chill and dishearten with a single word." Ralph Waldo Emerson

From Journey to the End of the Night:

The sadness of the world has different ways of getting to people, but it seems to succeed almost every time.

****

I cannot refrain from doubting that there exist any genuine realizations of our deepest character except war and illness, those two infinities

...more

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Oct 23, 2016 Evripidis Gousiaris rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Βασανιστική, σκοτεινή εμπειρία...
Απλά εκπληκτικό...
Διαβάστε το!

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Apr 14, 2013 Vit Babenco rated it it was amazing

“The sunsets in that African hell proved to be fabulous. They never missed. As tragic every time as a monumental murder of the sun! But the marvel was too great for one man alone. For a whole hour the sky paraded in great delirious spurts of scarlet from end to end; after that the green of the trees exploded and rose up in quivering trails to meet the first stars. Then the whole horizon turned gray again and then red, but this time a tired red that didn’t last long. That was the end. All the col ...more

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Apr 11, 2009 Michael rated it it was amazing

Finally, after a busy week, I have finished my journey to the end of this book. Savage, brutal, disgusting, repulsive, and misanthropic are not necessarily adjectives I would use to describe a masterpiece, but with Celine, they're all meant as compliments.

Is it the most pessimistically scathing book ever written? I think so.

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Sep 24, 2009 Szplug rated it it was amazing

Hilarious, scathing and-oh-so-very-bitter, Journey to the End of the Night is a beautifully written - and translated - paean to misanthropy and the general crumminess of man. The novel comprises the journeys of Céline's alter-ego, Ferdinand Bardemu, from a frightened and bewildered soldier in World War I to the jungles of Central Africa, the materialist and well-kept streets of a booming America, and back again to France to eke out a living as a listless doctor amongst the petty-bourgeois of the ...more

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Apr 26, 2016 Chris_P rated it it was amazing

Shelves: classics-and-modern-classics, 5-star-diamonds

All you who are reading these very lines right now, are waiting for a review, an analysis maybe of Journey to the End of the Night, I bet. Well, I regret to say that I'll most probably disappoint you. In fact -and I don't mean to talk down the admittedly great job some reviewers have done here- I don't think one can properly review this book. You can talk about it or the way you felt reading it but the true essence of it should be experienced through reading it and not some ridiculous review a l ...more

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Nov 28, 2016 Edward rated it liked it

Shelves: literary-fiction, 2016

Journey to the End of the Night was not what I expected. Based on the cover art and description, I had prepared myself for a grim and sombre voyage to the depths of human depravity. Maybe the book simply hasn't aged well, but I thought it was really quite tame - not at all the "literary symphony of violence, cruelty and obscene nihilism" that is promised in the description. And where it does try to push the boundaries, it seems to do so in a very superficial way - for cheap adolescent shock valu ...more

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Dec 17, 2014 Edward rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Στο βιβλίο του αυτό, με το οποίο συστήθηκε στο ευρύ κοινό, ο Σελίν παρουσιάζεται κυνικός και μηδενιστής στον μέγιστο βαθμό, μα ταυτόχρονα και λαμπρός βυθομέτρης της ανθρώπινης ψυχής.

Ο ήρωας της ιστορίας, ο Μπαρνταμού, που ταυτίζεται με τον αφηγητή, εκκινεί από το Παρίσι και με ενδιάμεσους σταθμούς τα πεδία των μαχών του Α’ Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου, τις αποικιοκρατικές κτήσεις της Γαλλίας στην Αφρική, τη Νέα Υόρκη, το Ντιτρόιτ, και την Τουλούζη επιστρέφει και πάλι στην αφετηρία της διαδρομής.

Το ταξίδι Στο βιβλίο του αυτό, με το οποίο συστήθηκε στο ευρύ κοινό, ο Σελίν παρουσιάζεται κυνικός και μηδενιστής στον μέγιστο βαθμό, μα ταυτόχρονα και λαμπρός βυθομέτρης της ανθρώπινης ψυχής.

Ο ήρωας της ιστορίας, ο Μπαρνταμού, που ταυτίζεται με τον αφηγητή, εκκινεί από το Παρίσι και με ενδιάμεσους σταθμούς τα πεδία των μαχών του Α’ Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου, τις αποικιοκρατικές κτήσεις της Γαλλίας στην Αφρική, τη Νέα Υόρκη, το Ντιτρόιτ, και την Τουλούζη επιστρέφει και πάλι στην αφετηρία της διαδρομής.

Το ταξίδι στην άκρη της νύχτας, ουσιαστικά, αποτελεί ένα ταξίδι στην άκρη της ζωής, της αλήθειας και της ανθρώπινης ύπαρξης που μέσω της νευρώδους γλώσσας του συγγραφέα, μιας γλώσσας που καίει, καταλήγει να απομυθοποιεί την ίδια τη ζωή (όπως την ξέρουμε). Οι ωραιοποιήσεις και οι ηθικολογικές στρογγυλοποιήσεις απουσιάζουν από τις σελίδες του μυθιστορήματος. Απεναντίας, παρακολουθούμε ασθμαίνοντας την κατάβαση του ήρωα στα τρίσβαθα της κόλασης. Σε ένα ταξίδι δίχως πυξίδα και χάρτη, «Δεν ανεβαίνεις στη ζωή, κατεβαίνεις» (σελ. 538).

Η στάση του Σελίν δεν πρέπει να μας εκπλήσσει μιας και το βιβλίο κυκλοφόρησε το 1932, λίγα μόλις χρόνια μετά τη λήξη του Μεγάλου Πολέμου, ενός πολέμου που αποκάλυψε το απεχθές προσωπείο της ανθρωπότητας με τις εκατόμβες των νεκρών (9 εκατομμύρια νεκροί και τουλάχιστον 6 εκατομμύρια ανάπηροι στην Ευρώπη).

Η ρέουσα γραφή του Γάλλου συγγραφέα σε παρασέρνει σ’ ένα ταξίδι που μοιάζει να διαγράφει τον κύκλο της ύπαρξης, καθώς ο Σελίν αναρριχάται στο συγγραφικό του Έβερεστ (ούτε που θυμάμαι πόσες φορές αναγκάστηκα να διακόψω την ανάγνωση για να πάρω ανάσα και να παραδοθώ στις σκέψεις μου!). Ο πολυσυζητημένος Γάλλος συγγραφέας, που τόσα πολλά έχουν γραφτεί για την ιδεολογική του τοποθέτηση έναντι του φασισμού, μ’ αυτό του το Ταξίδι μοιάζει να κραυγάζει τον στίχο του ποιητή: «είναι αξημέρωτη νύχτα η ζωή».

Αναρωτιέμαι αν θα μπορούσε να βρεθεί ένας λογοτέχνης, αυτού του διαμετρήματος, να σκιαγραφήσει με τόσο ωμό και αληθινό τρόπο και τη δική μας εποχή μαζί με τους ανθρώπους της. Εκτός και αν δεν έχουν αλλάξει και τόσα πολλά από την εποχή της κυκλοφορίας του βιβλίου, «Αιώνας ταχύτητας! σου λένε. Πού, μωρέ; Μεγάλες αλλαγές! σου κοπανάνε. Ποιες, μωρέ; Τίποτα δεν έχει στ’ αλήθεια αλλάξει. Μόνο πόζα, οι μάγκες, και ιδέα. Κι ούτε αυτό είναι καινούργιο! Κάτι λέξεις έχουν αλλάξει, και πάλι όχι πολλές! Κάνα δυο, δώθε κείθε, μικρές..» (σελ. 17).

Μη διστάσετε να κάνετε αυτό το ταξίδι. Αλλά να είστε προετοιμασμένοι, δεν πρόκειται για ένα ακόμη ταξίδι αναψυχής.
...more

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Jan 19, 2016 qwerty rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: favorites

Αχ, αυτό το βιβλίο!!! Ήταν από τα πρώτα αριστουργήματα που διάβασα τυχαία και χάρη σε αυτό αγάπησα τη λογοτεχνία! Γύρω στα 22 μου, ένα μεσημέρι, ήμουν μόνη στο σπίτι και λόγω πλήξης, άρχισα να ψαχουλεύω τη βιβλιοθήκη της μεγάλης μου αδερφής. Κι ανάμεσα στα βαρετά Παντειακά συγγράμματα περί ΜΜΕ και δημοσιογραφίας κ.α., έπεσε στα χέρια μου το "Ταξίδι στην Άκρη της Νύχτας" και ξεκίνησα έτσι από περιέργεια να διαβάζω τις πρώτες σελίδες. Και αυτό ήταν!!!

Όταν είδα την αδερφή μου, τη ρώτησα γι' αυτό τ ...more

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Nov 27, 2016 ژیار rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

سلین یکی از بهترین نویسنده های فرانسهس و طرز نوشتنش عالیه. دوستدارم کتابای دیگرشم بخونم. ...more

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Sep 13, 2014 Mnemosyne rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: favorites, n-frança, e5, l-1001bymrbyd, l-100bb

Se, esta noite, tivesse de escolher um único livro para salvar da destruição seria Viagem ao Fim da Noite.
Não é o melhor livro que já li. É o mais honesto. É o que melhor representa a condição humana, sem os filtros do amor, do heroísmo, da bondade e de toda essa tralha de sonhos cor de rosa e hipocrisias, com os quais enganamos e nos enganamos para podermos continuar...
Este livro não é para todos. Quem quiser continuar a ter-se, a si próprio, em boa conta não faça esta Viagem. Acordado, claro. Se, esta noite, tivesse de escolher um único livro para salvar da destruição seria Viagem ao Fim da Noite.
Não é o melhor livro que já li. É o mais honesto. É o que melhor representa a condição humana, sem os filtros do amor, do heroísmo, da bondade e de toda essa tralha de sonhos cor de rosa e hipocrisias, com os quais enganamos e nos enganamos para podermos continuar...
Este livro não é para todos. Quem quiser continuar a ter-se, a si próprio, em boa conta não faça esta Viagem. Acordado, claro...

É impossível referir o enredo. Poderia estar aqui a contar a história da minha vida? A da tua? A da dela? A da dele? A história do Mundo?

Fernando Bardamu - o narrador - é uma das personagens mais extraordinárias da literatura.
É cobarde. Ao cair no meio de uma guerra tem medo de morrer. Eu e Tu somos cobardes, não estamos em guerra com ninguém e não queremos morrer nas guerras dos outros.
É egoísta. Algumas vezes vira costas a situações que lhe podem causar problemas. Eu e Tu somos, quase sempre, cegos e surdos ao sofrimento dos outros. (Sim, dizem que há pessoas que são todas e sempre boazinhas, mas eu sou uma mulher sem fé...)
É grosseiro. Não se coíbe de falar em sexo, sangue, vómito e merda. Tu não sei, eu não receio falar do que somos feitos.
É frágil. É medroso. É sincero. É generoso. É egoísta. É amargurado. É infeliz. É desesperado. É...É Humano!

Dizem que Louis-Ferdinand Céline foi colaboracionista nazi. Não me espanta. Não me importa. Depois de ter chegado ao fim desta Viagem só o posso respeitar por ter feito aquilo em que acreditava.

"Quando não se tem imaginação, morrer é coisa de nada, quando se tem, morrer é coisa séria."

"É espantoso o que existe de coisas e de pessoas que já não se movem, no nosso passado. Os vivos que deixamos extraviar nas criptas do tempo dormem tão profundamente como os mortos, a ponto de uma mesma sombra os confundir já,
Já não sabemos a quem despertar, quando envelhecemos. Se os vivos se os mortos."

"Pelo que me dizia respeito, à força de criar sonhos e depois abandoná-los, tinha correntes de ar na consciência, toda ela já gretada e destroçada de maneira repugnante."

"à força de seres lixado em todo o lado acabarás certamente por descobrir o truque de meter medo a todos eles, a todos, por mais patifes que sejam, e certamente só acabarás por encontrá-lo no fim da noite."

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Aug 08, 2010 Hadrian rated it really liked it

Shelves: french, fiction

A long, beautiful, hilarious, vile, cynical rant about everything and everyone. Bile drips from every page.

The author-surrogate travels from Paris to the hellscape of the first world war to the dank oppressive heat of a colonial jungle, and the gleaming lonely crowds of New York and Detroit. The author has a keen eye for the ugliness and bitterness and loneliness of modern living, and takes his time to appreciate and lovingly describe each thing he hates.

This is a fascinating book. Christ, what ...more

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May 14, 2012 Simona Bartolotta rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: favorites, 1900

"Gli hai fatto forse schifo all'esistenza? Sarebbe normale."

Se avessi la certezza di riuscire a trasmettere a chi ora mi legge almeno un decimo, ma che dico, anche solo un centesimo di tutto ciò che Viaggio al termine della notte è stato capace di dare a me, mi riterrei soddisfatta. Purtroppo questa certezza non ce l’ho. Mica siamo tutti come Céline.
Céline… che scrittore! Dire che la sua capacità evocativa è fuori dal comune è un insulto. Di comune non ha proprio niente, è anni luce avanti rispe "Gli hai fatto forse schifo all'esistenza? Sarebbe normale."

Se avessi la certezza di riuscire a trasmettere a chi ora mi legge almeno un decimo, ma che dico, anche solo un centesimo di tutto ciò che Viaggio al termine della notte è stato capace di dare a me, mi riterrei soddisfatta. Purtroppo questa certezza non ce l’ho. Mica siamo tutti come Céline.
Céline… che scrittore! Dire che la sua capacità evocativa è fuori dal comune è un insulto. Di comune non ha proprio niente, è anni luce avanti rispetto a tutti gli altri autori che conosco e amo, fatta eccezione per due o tre. Le sue parole sono le note di una melodia originale, perfetta, di una canzone schizzinosa ma composta nel fango. Riusciva ad imprimere un vigore nei suoi scritti, una forza soprannaturale che vive tuttora e che ancora colpisce chi li legge, come un pugno allo stomaco o uno schiaffo dritto in faccia. Non c’è scampo e i lividi restano. E non è neppure necessario per lui parlare di chissà cosa per riuscire ad incantare. In questo brano che riporto descrive un tramonto. E’ come se descrivesse la vita, l’amore e la morte tutto insieme:

”I tramonti di quell’inferno africano si rivelavano straordinari. Non te li toglieva nessuno. Ogni volta tragici come mostruosi assassinii del sole. Un immenso bluff. Soltanto che c’era troppo da ammirare per un uomo solo. Il cielo per un’ora si pavoneggiava tutto spruzzato da un capo all’altro d’uno scarlatto delirante, e poi il verde scoppiava in mezzo agli alberi e s’innalzava dal suolo a strisce tremanti fino alle prime stelle. Dopo di che il grigio riprendeva tutto l’orizzonte e poi di nuovo il rosso, ma allora stanco il rosso e non per molto. Finiva così. Tutti i colori ricadevano a brandelli, afflosciati sulla foresta come vecchi stracci alla centesima replica. Ogni giorno verso le sei era esattamente così che andava."

Oltre le belle parole, nel Viaggio si parla dello sfacelo della condizione umana, senza veli, senza sconti, non si può risparmiare niente e nessuno perché niente e nessuno merita di essere risparmiato. La terra è ancora imbevuta del sangue dei feriti di guerra, la società sta vivendo un cambiamento, è vero, ma mai che cambi in meglio, e invece l’umanità gira e rigira è sempre la stessa, sola e in miseria, una miseria economica, sociale, culturale. Morale. Intrappolata nell’impossibilità di comunicare e in un senso dilaniante di inadeguatezza, in una situazione di attesa, forse di speranza. Speranza in cosa? Forse che finisca, qualunque cosa sia.

"E si potrebbe dire che stiamo tutti aggrappati come palle di bigliardo vacillanti sull'orlo della buca a far complimenti prima di cascarci.
Partono belle violente e tonanti anche loro, le palle, e non vanno mai da nessuna parte, in definitiva. Noi nemmeno, e tutta la terra serve a questo, a farci ritrovare tutti."

Anche se è questa la direzione in cui il Viaggio si dirige, non mancano brandelli di vitalità, sprazzi di vita elemosinati a destra e a manca. Come Molly, che ha salvato Bardamu, il protagonista, giusto con «quel tanto di gentilezza e di sogno che gli ha regalato nel corso di qualche mese d’America». Questo della scena alla stazione, per quanto mi riguarda, è uno dei passi più belli e commoventi che abbia mai letto.

Tirando le somme, questo è un Libro che vale la pena di essere letto. In capolavori così non ci si imbatte troppo spesso, quindi vi consiglio di mettere mano alla penna e segnarvi titolo e autore in bella grafia in cima alla vostra wishlist, subito, ora.
Cosa penso io? Io ho solo bisogno di continuare a sperare che si possa vivere quantomeno con tranquillità. Per il momento mi impegno a sopportare la gente e a sopportare me stessa. Poi si vedrà. ...more

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About Louis-Ferdinand Céline

Louis-Ferdinand Céline, pen name of Dr. Louis-Ferdinand Destouches, is best known for his works Voyage au bout de la nuit (Journey to the End of the Night), and Mort à crédit (Death on the Installment Plan). His highly innovative writing style using Parisian vernacular, vulgarities, and intentionally peppering ellipses throughout the text was used to evoke the cadence of speech.
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