Die Angst des Tormanns beim Elfmeter

by Peter Handke

Von einem Tag auf den nächsten ist nichts mehr so, wie es war. Der Monteur Josef Bloch, früher einmal ein bekannter Torwart, wird wortlos entlassen - jedenfalls ist er eines Morgens fest davon überzeugt. Er verlässt seine Arbeitsstelle und spaziert ziellos durch Wien. Alles stört ihn: Die Geräusche der Stadt sind zu laut, deren Grellheit irritiert ihn. Er flüchtet sich in ein dunkles Kino. Mitten im Film hört her eine Glöcke läuten, doch er weiss nicht mehr, ob das Geräusch zum Film gehört oder ob es vom nahegelegenen Naschmarkt ins Kino hereindringt. Es ist, als sei die Welt mit einem Mal aus den Fugen geraten. Doch das ist noch nicht alles: Schon bald geschieht ein Mord...

Genres: Fiction, German Literature, Nobel Prize, Literature, Classics, Novels, Contemporary

106 pages, Hardcover

First published March 1, 1970

About the author

Peter Handke (* 6. Dezember 1942 in Griffen, Kärnten) ist ein österreichischer Schriftsteller und Übersetzer.

Peter Handke is an Avant-garde Austrian novelist and playwright. His body of work has been awarded numerous literary prizes, including the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2019. He has also collaborated with German director Wim Wenders, writing the script for The Wrong Move and co-writing the screenplay for Wings of Desire.

Reviews

[°°°·.°·..·°¯°·._.· ʜᴇʟᴇɴ Ροζουλί Εωσφόρος ·._.·°¯°·.·° .·°°° ★·.·´¯`·.·★ Ⓥⓔⓡⓝⓤⓢ Ⓟⓞⓡⓣⓘⓣⓞⓡ Ⓐⓡⓒⓐⓝⓤⓢ Ταμετούρο Αμ · Rating 5 out of 5]

«Ο Κάφκα θα μείνει το μοντέλο του αιώνα. Γνωρίζουμε πόσο κοστίζει η κάθε του φράση, πόσο του στοίχισε».
Peter Handke



Ο Γιόζεφ Μπλοχ, το ανθρώπινο σύμβολο της έλλειψης νοήματος και της απειλής, παρουσιάζεται μέσα στον κόσμο του Χάντκε, σε έναν κόσμο που ο υπαινιγμός και η παραίτηση προσδίδουν μια πραγματικότητα.

Ο τερματοφύλακας, κάτω από τα δοκάρια της συνείδησης και της πράξης.
Σχεδόν με τρόμο, αποκρούει κάθε προσπάθεια εξανθρωπισμού, ορθολογισμού και συναισθήματος.

Έχει υπάρξει στο παρελθόν, ως επαγγελματίας αθλητής, σύζυγος και πατέρας.
Τώρα, απλώς ενοχλείται απο όλα, περιφέρεται άσκοπα σε ένα άρρωστα εχθρικό περιβάλλον, αλλάζει διαθέσεις και προορισμούς, τοποθετείται παρανοϊκά έναντι του κόσμου, δεν είναι συγκροτημένος, δεν παρουσιάζει συναίσθηση των όσων συμβαίνουν γύρω του, έχει συμπτώματα σύγχισης.

Είναι ο ήρωας του βιβλίου που έχει όνομα,
Γιόζεφ Μπλόχ, ακούμε τις σκέψεις του και βλέπουμε τις πράξεις του.
Ο Μπλόχ είναι η άλλη πλευρά του συγγραφέα, η δίνη του, η φαντασίωση του για μία συμβολική, αυτιστική πραγματικότητα.
Ο Μπλόχ είναι
«ο ξένος» του Καμί σε ένα μουντό καφκικό υπόβαθρο. Αλλά ένας «ξένος» χωρίς ίχνος συναισθήματος, ασυνείδητος, απομονωμένος, δολοφόνος απο άγχος και πλήρως αδιάφορος για τις συνέπειες των πράξεων του. Ακόμη περισσότερο ανηλεής μπροστά στις ίδιες αποτρόπαιες πράξεις. Απόλυτη έλλειψη αναστολών, παθολογική και ατέρμονη μετακίνηση με αντιδράσεις ακατανοησίας και φρίκης.

Πίσω απο κάθε άτομο, κάθε γεγονός, κάθε χαρακτηριστικό ανθρώπινης συμπεριφοράς και καθημερινής ρουτίνας η ικανότητα του να συλλάβει την πραγματικότητα είναι εξαιρετικά περιορισμένη. Κατηγορεί τους ανθρώπους συλλήβδην ως εχθρούς και υποκριτές, άξιους αν υποστούν οτιδήποτε τους κάνει.

Ψάχνει παντού τον υπαινιγμό και την απειλή, στοιχεία απαραίτητα για την πραγματικότητα του Χάντκε.
Αναζητάει φίλους και κάποια επικοινωνία, μα αυτομάτως θεωρεί πως τον προσβάλλουν, τον προδίδουν, τον επικρίνουν, τον παρεξηγούν. Καχύποπτος, με μια αδιάλειπτη, ανεξέλεγκτη οργή που πυροδοτείται εύκολα και άστοχα.

Τα υπόλοιπα πρόσωπα έχουν μόνο ιδιότητες, θλιβερό ρεαλισμό, ψυχρή αδράνεια και αποστασιοποιημένη ατμόσφαιρα αντίδρασης.

Ο Χάντκε γράφει πολύ απλά, σχεδόν παιδικά. Μα δεν υπάρχει λέξη, πρόταση, φράση, παράγραφος που να μην ερμηνεύεται με άπειρους τρόπους.
Για τον κάθε αναγνώστη ξεχωριστή αντιληπτική αξιολόγηση.
Ίσως ακατανόητος, ίσως συμβολικός, ίσως ανεξιχνίαστος και παθολογικά αντικοινωνικός. Μα σίγουρα,κάθε φράση του «κοστίζει».

Μας γνωρίζει τον Μπλόχ, τον ντύνει με απελπισία, απόγνωση, παράνοια, αμηχανία, άγχος, ένταση, αποξένωση.
Αυτή η γνωριμία μέσα απο την πένα του είναι γροθιά στο στομάχι του αναγνώστη.
Ξαφνικό χτύπημα στο μυαλό.
Πόνος στην ψυχή, σοκ, αιφνιδιασμός, αλλεπάλληλα αναπάντητα ερωτήματα που δεν γίνεται να απαντηθούν ή αν γίνεται, οι απαντήσεις είναι καθαρά υποκειμενικές.

Και ναι, το καταφέρνει, τουλάχιστον σε εμένα το πέτυχε εξ αρχής. Όση ενσυναίσθηση και συναισθηματική παιδεία λείπει απο τον Μπλόχ, βγαίνει αβίαστα απο τον αναγνώστη προς εκείνον, προς την ανεπάρκεια του, προς τον συμβολικά υπαινικτικό κόσμο του.

Χάρηκα απεριόριστα, όταν στο διφορούμενο και ποιητικό τέλος του βιβλίου, ο τερματοφύλακας καταφέρνει να αντιμετωπίσει την «ποινή» που του επιβλήθηκε με το πέναλτυ και πιάνει την μπάλα, πριν περάσει τη γραμμή του τέρματος.

Σίγουρα Δεν το συστήνω ανεπιφύλακτα.


Καλή ανάγνωση.
Πολλούς ασπασμούς.

[Lisa · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Reader's Anxiety At The Nobel Announcement!

Why?

Honestly, I don't even know where to start. The Swedish Academy announces about a month or so ago that they are trying to correct their former eurocentrism and male centrism - by choosing another male, white, European writer of questionable dignity and out-of-date ideas on national identity politics?

Is that supposed to be the change? I have better hopes of the female European that was simultaneously awarded the 2018 prize, but I can't really see how this double choice is matching the idea of moving away from a Eurocentric worldview. And DON'T give me the incredibly stupid argument that aesthetic value is the guideline for the Academy, for there are so, so many authors out there that are AT LEAST as aesthetically valuable as this old school author, and they would fit the Nobel idea of being beneficial to mankind in a much more adequate way than the Austrian who held a speech at a mass murderer's funeral out of nostalgia for his own national roots... It is insulting to all African, Asian and American writers to claim that Europeans are picked because they are representing Literature with a capital letter best!

That being said, he is a quite good writer. That's something to be sure!

[Ian · Rating 3 out of 5]

I became curious about Austrian author Peter Handke after he was awarded the Nobel Prize a few years ago. I went for this 1970 novel partly because the unusual title caught my attention, and partly because this edition was only 90-odd pages. I tend to think a reader has little to lose in trying such a short book. I would say though that the font size was pretty small. I would imagine other editions have a few more pages.

I read this in English translation, about which I had one reservation, which is that it’s in American English. For me, British English works better for a book set in Europe and written by a European author. The Americanisms I encountered here kept mentally taking me out of Europe and off to California or somewhere. (Just to show I’m not being chauvinist here, I think that American English is more appropriate for books originally in Spanish, Portuguese or French, that are set in North, Central or South America).

In terms of the novel itself, I think I might need to dumb down on my fiction choices. This is the second one in a row where I have been a bit baffled as to what’s going on. The protagonist here is one Joseph Bloch, described as having once been a well-known goalie. The story is told from his perspective. As set out in the GR blurb, he commits a murder, apparently without motive and certainly without showing any sign of remorse. A sociopath perhaps? After the murder he travels to a small town on Austria’s southern border, where he contacts an ex-girlfriend. He seems to view women solely as sources of money or sex, again perhaps suggesting a sociopathic personality. Generally he appears detached from everyone else. In the town he wanders around the countryside and moves between cafes and bars. He likes to strike up conversations with people but they are fleeting and casual. Throughout the novel he demonstrates what seemed to me like obsessive-compulsive behaviours. He obsesses about the meanings and sounds of words, and in one segment spends a day demanding to know the price or cost of every object he sees. There’s also a thread running through the book about how he watches things, so that when he sees a hawk hovering over a field, he looks not at the hawk but at the spot in the field where he thinks it will dive. There are several other very similar examples.

So what was the significance of Bloch being a goalkeeper? Was this related to the issue of his detachment? Within the sport of football, goalies perform a highly specialist function, and are set apart from the rest of the team. This issue is explored at the end of the book, as is, again, the idea of “how to watch”. Quite what it all meant…?

It’s one of those books where the reader is left to interpret the ending.

I’d say this is a challenging book for the average reader like myself. I quite enjoyed the process of trying to work it all out, even if I didn’t really succeed in doing so. I think though I have satisfied my curiosity about Peter Handke’s work.

On a lighter note, I have learned that “the penalty kick” is “Der Elfmeter” in German. Quite a neat term for it, I thought.

[Cody · Rating 4 out of 5]

First 80 pages: hated every word.

(Steps outside and smokes a joint)

Last 50 pages: greatest book ever written.


Take from that what you will—

[ArturoBelano · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bu kitabı ilk olarak 15 yıl önce okumuştum, bu gece bir yazı için bilgisayarın başına geçip ne yapsam da bu işi ertelesem derken aklıma düştü yeniden. Aklıma düşmesi nobel ödülünden çok nobel sonrası hakkında çıkan, ırkçı, faşist sırp yanlısı sövgüleri nedeniyleydi. Geçen hafta ona bu övgüleri kazandıran kitabı okumuş ama faşistliğine ikna olmamıştım. Bu gece kitabı elime alıp 50 sayfa okuyunca sadece bu kitabı yazmış olması bile nobel için yeterli sebep diye düşündüm. Gerisi ve politik angajmanı beni çok da bağlamıyor.

90'ların o güzel ve artık tarih olmuş Ayrıntı yayınları külliyatında( evet tarih olan yayınevi değil o zamanki yayın politikası) Kapanda Üç Kaplan ile birlikte hakkı en çok yenen kitap bu olsa gerek. Nobelin hatırına okunur ve yine beğenilmez belki ve ben yine şaşırırım belki;

"Eskiden tanınmış bir kaleci olan montör josef bloch'a, öğle öncesi işbaşı yapmaya gittiğinde işten çıkarıldığı bildirildi. En azından, bloch işçilerin o sırada mola verdiği şantiye binasının kapısında göründüğünde sadece ustabaşının yemeğinden başını kaldırmasını böyle bir bildirim olarak yorumladı ve şantiyeden ayrıldı. Caddede elini kaldırdı, ama yanından geçen araba her ne kadar bloch elini taksi durdurmak için kaldırmadıysa da taksi değildi. Sonunda önünde bir fren sesi duyup döndü bloch: arkasında bir taksi duruyor, taksi şoförü kızıp bağırıyordu; tekrar geri döndü, bindi, şoföre naschmarkt'a gitmesini söyledi."

bu paragraf ile açılan bir kitabın beğenilmemesine.

"Olacak iş gibi görünmüyordu gözüne, insanın konuşmaya başlayıp cümlesinin sonunda ne söyleyeceğini önceden bilmesi."

Bu duyguyu bir kez bile yaşamış olanlar, dilin bir iletişim aracı olmak için yetersizliğini hissedenler, becket sevenler, wim wenders sevenler, wittgenstien muhipleri, kimselere ilişmeyenler; 90 sayfa boyunca bu aynadan hayatlarına yansıyacak olandan endişe ede ede bu kitaba ölüp bitecekler.

[Evan · Rating 2 out of 5]

There are books that are both beyond parody and beyond criticism, and this is one of them.

In the case of parody, I considered writing one but realized that the results would look exactly like the book itself, which would serve little purpose other than to hold a mirror to it, when merely quoting extended passages from it (which I won't do) would give the review reader a taste of the style and content along with showing the inherent difficulty of parodying same.

The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick is Handke's most famous novel, and in it he distills to an even finer minimalism the angst of Kafka's The Metamorphosis and Knut Hamsun's Hunger. The book has no plot other than to get inside the head of a murderer on the run as he flounders about in a ratty Austrian border town. All the while I read it I couldn't help but think I might be liking this more if Graham Greene had written it with his sly and humorous ironic touches, lending more than merely confounding ennui to the condition of exile.

But Handke is a glum Austrian and the results are sterile and clinical and fairly humorless. The protagonist of the piece (related in the third person, not the first) is a Mr. Bloch, who was once a soccer goalie and a construction worker. We never are told why he was cast away from either of these avocations, nor are we provided any motivation for the killing that sets him further adrift. We don't really need to know, I suppose; this is a book about modern ennui, and the pleasure to be had in the reading of it--for lack of a better word--is in the evocation of Bloch's claustrophobic inner world and the way he relates his observations of the world around him to that strange inner place. The detailing of Bloch's perceived universe is penny plain, neither truly vivid nor obscure. It's an odd balance between the extremes of Henry James and Hemingway. And it can't be wholly said to be stream-of-consciousness either (in the Joycean sense) because too many of Bloch's inner thoughts have been left out by the omniscient narrator. We're never quite certain, but suspect Bloch may have a bit of amnesia. Or is simply in denial. Or a tad schizo.

That said, I can't say I was enamored of the book, but I can see why it has its admirers.

I saw Wim Wender's 1972 film adaptation about 20 years ago, so my memory of that is a bit vague. I seem to remember the goalie's anxiety being more explicitly depicted in the film as an actual incident in Bloch's life. That is, he is shown failing to deflect a shot on the goal. In the book, there is no such incident depicted (if it did happen, we are not told of it). The only time a goalie's plight is mentioned the goalie succeeds. That might be considered a spoiler, but really it's not--it does not alter the so-called plot one bit.

One never really gets the sense that Bloch is hiding out or caring whether or not he is captured for his crime. It is all an absurd universe, and the point is underlined by the fact that the police are combing the area of the Austrian border town not for him but for a missing local child and his possible killer. Bloch, an oddly oblivious stranger in town, ironically never seems to draw anyone's attention.

Most of the book details Bloch as he arises from bed, watches TV, has bizarre conversations and encounters with the denizens of the inn, drinks and listens to the conversations in a tavern, attends and falls asleep at the movies, tries to pick up girls in the street, walks around the town, kicks a dead weasel, and so on. Oftentimes we get hints of his disordered brain: his tendency to overdefine phenomena around him or to try to find karmic relations between unrelated things.

Every once in awhile, you stumble across a cool sentence such as, "He was talking with the postmistress...in a murmur that sounded to Bloch like those passages in foreign films that are left untranslated because they are supposed to be incomprehensible anyway."

It's a sentence that probably well sums up the experience of reading this book.

(kevinR@Ky, with slight amendments in 2016)

[Biron Paşa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Yabancılaşma, toplumdan uzaklaşma, dil ve hakikat ilişkisi, bilinç problemi ve bilinç akışı... Kalecinin Penaltı Anındaki Endişesi, modernist, varoluşçu, postmodernist ve hatta günümüz edebiyatının dertlerinin çoğunun büyük bir doğallıkla bu 100 küsur sayfalık anlatıda birleşmesinden oluşuyor. Neredeyse 20. yüzyıl edebiyatının bir özeti gibi.

Bugüne kadar dil ile ilgili okuduğum romanların içindeki en güçlülerinden biri, belki de en güçlüsü. Dilin eksikliğinden öte, dilin absürtlüğünü ve hatta dilin gülünçlüğünü okuyoruz sayfalarca. Ama aynı zamanda bilincin doğasına, insan olmanın, insan aklının nasıl çalıştığına dair de bir roman.

Tuhaf bir biçimde anti-kafkaesk, hatta Bartlebyvari karakterimizin algısına giriyor, dünyayı onun gibi görüyoruz romanda. Handke dünyayı o kadar güçlü yaratmış ki, hem romanın bu etkiyi 100 küsur sayfada nasıl yarattığına şaşırıyorum, çünkü benzer bir etkiyi Ishiguro Avunamayanlar'da 500 küsur sayfada verebilmişti, hem de bu romanın 100 küsur sayfadan daha fazla olsa okur için zevkten çok acı vereceğini düşünüyorum.

Roman her şeyiyle büyük bir yazarın elinden çıktığını belli ediyor.

[Brodolomi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nisam znao da je ovo toliko duhovito. Mada, kapiram da je i do mene i do mog smisla za humor, pošto sam jedan od onih kome je i Ludvig Vitgenštajn beskrajno vickast sa svojim bogatim crnohumornim paranoičnim očajanjem a „Golmanov strah od penala“ je skoro kao krimić napisan Vitgenštajnovom rukom. Od prvog pasusa i pokretanje radnje usled interpretacije viđenog (a nije isključeno da je intrepretacija otkaza potpuno pogrešna) Jozef Bloh upada iz situaciju u gde je sve manje-više svakodnevno, ali je predočeno iz takvog ugla da je sve vrlo, vrlo iščašeno pa nekako sve ispripovedano zveči tu ru ru ru, pa ra ra ra, otkrivajući da su jezik, interpretacija, komunikacija, razumevanje vrlo pakleni i nesavršeni izumi. Ništa nije kako treba, a trebalo bi da bude. I tako Bloh ubija i čkilji sa nepoverenjem u svoju stvarnost, a sa druge strane papira čitalac ubija i čkilji sa nepoverenjem u značenje. Obojica dosta vide, a malo stvari "razumeju". Onda dođe taj kraj - šutnuta lopta završava ravno u golmanovim rukama – jedan od najzadovoljavajućih trenutaka u pisanoj literaturi. Koga briga da li je ubica ulovljen kada je harmonija ponovo uspostavljana?

[María · Rating 1 out of 5]

De este libro solo puedo destacar el principio y el final el resto, para mí, ha sido la nada absoluta.
160 páginas interminables con un protagonista medio loco (o loco entero), repulsivo y violento. Entiendo lo que el autor quiere contar en esta novela pero no me gusta nada como lo cuenta, su estilo es demasiado frío y distante, excesivo en descripciones y situaciones que no llevan a ningún sitio.
Comparan este libro con El extranjero de Camus, y aunque ambos libros tratan temas parecidos yo me quedo con El extranjero sin ninguna duda.

[Jason]

I wanted to re-read this book as soon as I finished it. I loved the movement of the whole thing and how it sat in my mind. I couldn't put it into any kind of category or reduce it.
After some pacing and deliberation, I stole this book from the Notre Dame library; they wouldn't let me get a library card and I really wanted to read it. The security guard wasn't at his post. I avoided the exit sensor gates by going out through the entrance. You couldn't open the entrance doors from the inside, so I had to wait for someone to come in and catch the door. My heart was beating like a madman. It was fun.
I returned the book a couple months later (after I'd re-read it).

[Matthew Ted · Rating 2 out of 5]

18th book of 2023.

2.5? The Nobel Prize committee garnered a lot of controversy when they awarded Handke in 2019. Around that time I went online and saw a post saying, 'Have you read any books by Peter Handke?' and someone had commented: 'No, we were busy looking for our families and friends buried in mass graves he denied existed.' I won't go into the politics of the man, but I thought it would be wrong to avoid any mention of this.

And I actually read Handke a while back, a book called Absence, which I did not like. This one was better, but frankly, I still don't think he stands as Nobel material (as far as I've seen: but then, I've never been hugely fond of the Nobel or their decisions). This one is essentially a revamped The Stranger/Outsider. There's a murder and some cold, lack of regret from our protagonist, Bloch. It's not that interesting, and fails to reach any philosophical peak like Camus's novel. There's a tone that Handke captures that I found good, it does have a fervent and anxious energy, but that's it. Not hard to sustain that for under 100 pages. So, Camus did it better. And Camus was once a goalkeeper. So there.

[Ratko · Rating 5 out of 5]

Изузетно дело, брат (близанац) Камијевог „Странца“.

Шта се дешава када особа постане отуђена од света и реалности, који су мотиви наших поступака и да ли за све мора постојати мотив?
Јозеф Блох, главни јунак, бивши голман и бивши монтер, наизглед без икаквог разлога убија радницу са билетарнице биоскопа с којом је провео ноћ (није никакав спојлер, без бриге), потом немотивисано лута по аустријској провинцији, препуштајући се својим раштрканим мислима.
Хандке изузетно барата језиком и својим шкртим, огољеним, хладним изразом казује много, стварајући тмурну и атмосферу свеприсутне тескобе.
Главни лик, маргиналац и друштвени губитник, има многе одлике особе са схизофренијом, а које су изврсно литерарно уобличене (озвучене мисли, слушне илузије и/или халуцинације, параноја, дезорганизоване мисли...), тако да се не могу отети утиску да Хандке није проучавао и неке уџбенике психијатрије како би написао ову књигу.

Све препоруке!

П.С. И да, фудбала овде и нема баш много :-).

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a strange and unsettling book!

I have never heard of Handke before but was immediately struck by chords of Kafka and Hesse. The atmosphere of this story reeks with anxiety and a nervous, ominous tension that never lets up.

Early in the book the protagonist murders a woman. He spends the remainder of the time wandering aimlessly, overwhelmed with weird compulsions and distorted observations, slowly but surely losing his grip on reality. This book is one long, dark, brooding nightmare filled with images of cold and grey and dusk. Muffled crowds of people in smoky taverns, strangers on the street, skewed vision, a rapid decent into madness.

It was a delightfully unusual read.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3CHi_...

[Enrique · Rating 2 out of 5]

La primera impresión al comienzo del libro fue que se trataba de un libro mal traducido. No entiendes la coherencia en ocasiones entre una frase y la siguiente, o un párrafo con el anterior.
La solución es que simplemente no hay que esperar tal coherencia, además y con independencia de lo anterior, he manejado una edición antigua de Alfaguara que efectivamente hacía traducción muy deficiente, que no ayuda con un libro tan complejo (ya llevaba buena parte del libro cuando percibí errores de traducción, errores gramaticales..mm..ya mala señal aunque decidí terminarlo).
El autor usa un estilo fragmentado con toda intención, salta de un lado a otro, juega con el lector, a veces suelta un flash, otras veces le da un poco de coherencia en alguna zona. Debe ser el lector el que deba componer este puzle o collage de un personaje con claros signos de ir hacia la locura.
Me ha recordado en cierto aspecto al Ulises y esa descripción de pensamientos, mezclados con lo que perciben los sentidos, o con la realidad inminente, ese baile loco de lo que la cabeza lleva en ocasiones, pero me da la impresión de que con un nivel de Handke no comparable al del maestro Joyce (muy a pesar de que el primero tenga nobel y el segundo no, cada vez tiene menos valor para mí este premio después de los últimos años). Valoro la intención innovadora de Handke, pero no he logrado conectar del todo.  

[Nikola Jankovic · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kaže Handke da ga volimo u Srbiji, ali ga ne čitamo. Pa hajde to da promenimo, ovaj naslov mi zvuči interesantno.

Najpre me podsetio na Kafku, a brzo zatim i na Stranca. Pripovedanje skoro bez ikakvih emocija, uz nejasnu motivaciju i apsurdne akcije glavnog lika ("montera Jozefa Bloha, nekada poznatog golmana") i kroz rečenice koje su potpuno ogoljene i pojednostavljene.

"Uveče izađe iz hotela i napi se. Kasnije se otreznio i pokušao da telefonira prijateljima; kako su oni mahom stanovali izvan tog grada, a telefonski aparat je samo gutao metalni novac, Bloh ubrzo ostade bez sitnine. Jedan policajac, koga je pozdravio misle��i da će ga time navesti da stane, nije mu otpozdravio." itd itd, otprilike u takvom stilu.

Nema tu priče, ali to sam znao, nisam je ni očekivao od Handkea. Najbolji deo je ustvari u drugoj polovini ovog (jako kratkog) romana, kad kreću igre reči, disekcija rečenica i zapravo poprilično zabavna jezička gimnastika...

"Poštanska službenica sad podiže slušalicu i reč po reč izdiktira telegrafsku čestitku. Na šta je aludirala? Šta se krilo iza reči 'sve najbolje'? 'Srdačni pozdravi' - šta je trebalo to da znači? Šta su skrivale te puste fraze? Ko se krio iza potpisa 'S ponosom, deda i baka'? Još tog jutra Bloh je, čim je u novinama video mali oglas 'Zašto ne telefoniraš?' bio uveren da je posredi zamka.

Imao je utisak da je poštaru i službenici sve jasno. 'Službenici i poštaru,' ispravi se. Sad je i njega usred bela dana spopala ta morska bolest - igra reči. 'Usred bela dana?' Zašto mu je pala na pamet baš ta fraza? Činilo mu se da je izraz na neprijatan način šaljiv. Ali, jesu li ostale reči u rečenici bile manje neprijatne: Kad čovek nekoliko puta ponovi reč 'bolest' na kraju joj se može još samo smejati. 'Spopala me bolest': smešno. 'Razboleo sam se': ništa manje smešno. 'Poštanska službenica i poštar'; "poštar i poštanska službenica': ništa nego vic. 'Čovek ima utisak da su to sve samo natpisi,' pomisli Bloh."

Nakon prvog Handkeovog dela, nisam još otkrio zašto je dobio Nobelovu nagradu.

[Ernst · Rating 5 out of 5]

Perfekte Eintrittspforte in den Handke Kosmos.

Erstmals in den 80er Jahren als Schullektüre gelesen, damals mit großem Interesse und Gefallen aber eher noch nicht so ausgeprägter Begeisterung, kein Wunder zumal er sich damals in meiner noch extrem eingeschränkten Literaturerfahrung mit ganz anderen „Kalibern“ messen lassen musste, einerseits weil meine wahre Gunst bereits an Kafka vergeben war und der Tormann trotz gewisser Parallelen mich nicht annähernd so fasziniert hat wie das Schloss.

Und trotz Spannung reichte er, was den Unterhaltungsfaktor angeht, bei weitem nicht an so rasante Thriller wie Robert Ludlums Osterman Weekend heran bzw. nicht mal an manche Konsalik Romane, die ich in dieser Zeit gerade endgültig hinter mir gelassen habe.
Handke hat bei mir lange gebraucht bis er einen Platz im Spektrum meiner persönlichen Favoriten bekommen hat, ich glaube das war erst in den 2010er Jahren und spätestens dann mit der Obstdiebin der Fall.

Aber ich hab auch den Tormann noch mindestens 1 mal gelesen und zusätzlich als Hörbuch gehört, und die Begeisterung wuchs beachtlich mit meinem Alter.

Gemeinsam mit dem Wunschlosen Unglück finde ich den Tormann die am einfachsten zugänglichen Texte von Handke, die auch deutlich Plotlastiger sind als die meisten seiner Werke.

[Steven Godin · Rating 2 out of 5]

The reader's anxiety at trying to get through this!
Two-thirds of the way in I happily kicked it into touch.

Shouldn't even be mentioned in the same vein as Camus's The Stranger.
That was a masterpiece. This is not far from being a train wreck of a novel.

Won't put me off reading Handke again though, as it can't get as bad as this again surely?
Some of his other stuff has been pretty good, so there is still hope the next time I read him.

[Proustitute (on hiatus) · Rating 4 out of 5]

This slim book seems to draw readymade comparisons to Camus's L'Étranger, which I think is a very poor way to approach Handke's novella. While both texts deal with a man in an existential crisis and while there are murders, the similarities end there. Camus is concerned with the dissolution of a specific kind of French masculine identity; Handke's subject matter here is analogous, but this is a text very rooted in Austrian anxieties in the late-1960s.

If anything, The Goalie... should draw comparisons to Kafka. Handke's use of time, disorientation, the limits of language and discourse, and also the uncanny sense of reality mirroring dreams (and vice versa) are much more indebted to Kafka than to Camus.

Bloch is a difficult character to follow, and Handke enjoys confusing the reader to mimic Bloch's own mental state. Some of the scenes are bafflingly nonsensical, while others play on puns and linguistic turns of phrases in unique ways. Here's a short example of the latter:

"Gradually, when he said something now, he himself reappeared in what he said. The landlady asked him to stay for lunch. Bloch, who had planned to stay at her place anyway, refused."

This is much more of a Kafkaesque refusal. An example of how lost in language Bloch is, but juxtaposed against a legalese in which he cannot share (thus emphasizing his isolation):

"The policemen, who made the usual remarks, nevertheless seemed to mean something entirely different by them; at least they purposely mispronounced phrases like 'got to remember' and 'take off' as 'goats you remember' and 'take-off' and, just as purposely, let their tongues slide over others, saying 'whitewash?' instead of 'why watch?' and 'closed, or' instead of 'close door.'"

There's something almost Lacanian in Handke's playful and yet deranged handling of language and alienation in this witty and puzzling book.

[Xenia Germeni · Rating 4 out of 5]

Και καπως ετσι ξεκινησε το 2018! Με ενα πολυ παραδοξο βιβλιο σε μια νεα εκδοση, που τα σπαει! Θα πολλα μπραβο στον Gutenberg για τη σειρα Aldina! Η Εισαγωγη και μεταφραση του Ισσαρη ειναι οτι ακριβως χρειαζεται για να κατανοησει κανεις ενα τοσο παραδοξα παραξενο κειμενο οπως αυτο του Handke. Προσπαθησα να αποφυγω να διαβασω την εισαγωγη, αλλα τελικα την διαβασα στα γρηγορα και μπηκα στον παραξενο κοσμο του Μπλοχ. Ο Handke χτιζει κομματι κομματι το συμπαν του Μπλοχ, με κοφτες προτασεις και παραθεση ηχων και αντικειμενων, δωματιων, διαδρομων ακομη και μυρωδιων. Σε καθε προταση ο κοσμος του Μπλοχ πιεζει σαν μεγγενη τον αναγνωστη. Και ο κοσμος του Μπλοχ ειναι ο κοσμος του δυτικου ανθρωπου. Ο Handke κατασκευαζει εικονες κοντινες με κοντινους ηρωες και δημιουργει μια ατμοσφαιρα νουαρ ή καλυτερα αντι-νουαρ. O Handke δημιουργει ενα μεταμοντερνο Καφκικο συμπαν οπου ρουτινα, αρρωστια, αηδια, μεταφορα και ελλειψη επικοινωνιας διαλυουν και κονιορτοποιούν ψυχη και σωμα. Το Επιμετρο ειναι μια αλλη εκπληξη, οπως και η αναφορα της κριτικης του βιβλιου απο τον Γιαννη Καλογερόπουλο (https://no14me.blogspot.gr/2016/06/pe...) και η οποια με βρίσκει απολυτα συμφωνη!

[Eylül Görmüş · Rating 1 out of 5]

Bu sefer olmadı valla Peter Handke, hiç olmadı. Daha önce Handke'den "Çocuğun Öyküsü"nü okumuş ve çok etkilenmiştim, biraz daha haşır neşir olalım dedim ve bu muhteşem isimli kitaba geçtim ancak kitaba dair muhteşem olan tek şeyin ismi olduğu kanaatiyle bitirdim. Ve baya da sinirliyim.

"Kalecinin Penaltı Anındaki Endişesi"nin arka kapağında şöyle diyor: "'Yalnızlık', 'boşluk', 'ilişkisizlik', 'dilin ilişki gücü' gibi temalarla örülü, iyi edebiyatın 'zor' metinlerine ilgi duyan okurların büyük zevk alacakları bir başyapıt..." Valla edebiyatın zor metinlerine ilgi duyan biriyim, fena da bir okur olmadığımı düşünüyorum ama bu değil ya, bu da değil artık. Bağlamsız bir iç sıkıntısı monoloğu gibi bir metin, olağanüstü klostrofobik fakat bir yandan o Kafkaesk klostrofobinin zekası ve lezzetini de barındırmıyor.

Müthiş durağan, akmayan bir kitap. "Boş"luğun romanıymış, ya yapmayın, lütfen yapmayın. Bazen bazı şeylere biz anlam yüklüyoruz bence, yazarın / sanatçının kendisinin aklından geçmeyen türde derinlikler icat edip "olağanüstü!" filan diyoruz. (Çağdaş sanatla da derdim tam bu mesela.) Kitabı sevenlerin "sen ne anlarsın, çapın yetmemiş" filan demesini göze alarak çığlık çığlığa "kral çıplak" diye bağırmak istiyorum.

Ecnebilerin "pretentious" dediği şey tam da bu bence. Baş karakterimiz Bloch sinemaya gidiyor, yola çıkıyor, pazara gidiyor, otobüse biniyor, otelde kalıyor vs vs. Bütün bu sıradanlık, aynı ölçüde sıradan bir anlatıyla tarafımıza sunuluyor. Ve buradan büyük manalar çıkarmamız mı isteniyor? Postmodernitenin sanata ettiği en büyük kötülüklerden biri de bu oldu işte: estetiğin sanatla ilişkisini koparmak. "Dilin boşlukla ilişkisini anlatıyor"muş; pekala, bunu estetik biçimde mi yapıyor, bir lezzet, bir yaratıcılık var mı bu metinde? Yok. O zaman bunu sanat eseri yapan şey nedir? "Öz"ünü yitiren sanat hala sanat mıdır?

Sevenler sevmeye devam edebilir. Ben bu kadarına asla yokum ve kabul etmiyorum ya. Gerçek edebiyat bu değil. Düpedüz yavanlık bu.

[philosophie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Δεν είναι τόσο οι πράξεις του Bloch όσο τα όσα συμβαίνουν στο μυαλό του που κάνει τη νουβέλα τόσο ενδιαφέρουσα, αφού παραδόξως, δεδομένου ότι είναι γραμμένη στο τρίτο πρόσωπο, παρουσιάζεται μια ανησυχητική εικόνα της ψυχικής κατάστασης του πρωταγωνιστή και της μετέπειτα κατάβασης στην τρέλα. Κατά κάποιον τρόπο μοιάζει λες κι ο Bloch βλέπει μια ταινία με την ένταση του ήχου να είναι πολύ χαμηλή κι αυτό αποτυπώνεται στο ύφος της πρόζας, στην αποσπασματικότητα και τη ψυχρή ατμόσφαιρα που αντανακλά αποτελεσματικά την προβληματική νοοτροπία του ήρωα.

Σαφέστατα το μυθιστόρημα αποτελεί μια δύσκολη ανάγνωση, όχι μόνο επειδή παρουσιάζει έναν άνθρωπο που αγωνίζεται να εξασφαλίσει τη λογική του, αλλά κατά βάση λόγω της μονότονης, στεγνής γραφής του έργου, η οποία δε μπορεί παρά να απωθεί και να δυσχεραίνει τη διατήρηση του αναγνωστικού ενδιαφέροντος. Αυτή η μονοτονία είναι αναμφίβολα σκόπιμη, είναι ο καθρέφτης της θαμπής ζωής του Bloch, ένα στοιχείο σχεδόν Λακανικό, ο παράξενος χειρισμός της γλώσσας ως δείκτης της αλλοτρίωσης, η ιδέα ότι στην ομιλία δε βρίσκεται τόσο το υποκείμενο όσο το ίδιο το σύστημα της γλώσσας.

Το κείμενο ασχολείται φαινομενικά με την κατάρρευση ενός δολοφόνου, κι όμως ο Bloch ξεκινά την καθοδική του πορεία πολύ πριν η δολοφονία παίξει καθοριστικό ρόλο στην εξέλιξη της πλοκής. Η ιστορία αφορά την εσωτερική διάσπαση ενός ανθρώπου που έχει μολυνθεί από την κοινωνία, ενός ανθρώπου με παρελθόν που δε μπορεί να αγγίξει, μέλλον που δε μπορεί να φανταστεί, παροντική στιγμή που ζει κατ' ανάγκη. Ο χαρακτήρας είναι δύσκολος κι ο συγγραφέας απολαμβάνει τη σύγχυση του αναγνώστη, η οποία μιμείται την ψυχική κατάσταση του Bloch.

Η ομοιότητα με το έργο του Camus L'Étranger είναι δεδομένη, περισσότερα κοινά ωστόσο εντοπίζονται με τα κείμενα του Kafka και του Hamsun, με τη διαφορά ότι στο Handke λείπει το βασικότερο: το ίδιο το μυθιστόρημα. Κι αυτό γιατί στο Η αγωνία του τερματοφύλακα τη στιγμή του πέναλτι συμβαίνει η αποδόμηση το�� μυθιστορήματος ως φόρμα αφηγηματική, ο κατακερματισμός της δομής, των κανόνων, της πλοκής, του χρονικού περιορισμού, της αφηγηματικής συνάφειας, στοιχεία-κορμός σε ένα έργο, με μια αόριστη αρχή, ένα αόριστο τέλος κι ένα άγριο πάντρεμα αυτών των δύο να απομένουν. Η θραυσματική ροή συνείδησης, τα άλματα στο χρόνο και στις αφηγηματικές φωνές, χωρίς προειδοποίηση ή σαφή διαχωρισμό, κυριαρχούν κι οι σκέψεις συγχέονται με την ομιλία, καθώς ο πρωταγωνιστής κινείται βαθιά επηρεασμένος και συνάμα παγερά αδιάφορος από τη δική του πτώση και τις τραγωδίες που συναντά.

Οι έτοιμες συγκρίσεις με το έργο του Camus αποτελούν εύκολο κι όμως αρκετά λανθασμένο τρόπο προσέγγισης του μυθιστορήματος του Handke· ενώ τα δύο κείμενα ασχολούνται με έναν άνθρωπο σε υπαρξιακή κρίση κι ενώ συντελούνται δολοφονίες, οι ομοιότητες σταματούν εκεί, ο Camus ενδιαφέρεται για τη διάλυση ενός συγκεκριμένου είδους γαλλικής αρρενωπότητας και το θέμα του Handke, παρότι είναι ανάλογο, εντούτοις έχει τις ρίζες του στις αυστριακές ανησυχίες του τέλους της δεκαετίας του '60. Η χρήση του χρόνου και ο αποπροσανατολισμός, τα όρια της γλώσσας και του αφηγηματικού λόγου, η ασυνήθιστη αίσθηση της πραγματικότητας που αντικατοπτρίζει τα όνειρα, κι αντιστρόφως, οφείλονται περισσότερο στην επίδραση του Kafka και συμβάλλουν στη σκοτεινή κι εφιαλτική ατμόσφαιρα.

[A. Raca · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Genelde, ancak top kaleye atılırken farkına varır insan kalecinin."


🌟

[Hendrik · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es war ein Ruck gewesen, und mit einem Ruck war er unnatürlich geworden, war er aus dem Zusammenhang gerissen worden.

Ein gelungener Versuch das Krankheitsbild Schizophrenie mit literarischen Mitteln auszuloten. Die Geschichte eines ehemaligen Fußballtorwarts, der graduell aus der Selbstverständlichkeit der Welt hinausfällt. Bei Thomas Bernhard ist man meistens sofort über den psychopathologischen Zustand seiner Figuren im Bilde, während Handke dagegen subtiler in der Beschreibung vorgeht. In einer nüchternen Klarheit und eher ruhigen Szenenbildern erzählt er von der schleichenden Entfremdung des Torwarts von der Wirklichkeit. Nach Bernhards klaustrophobischem Kalkwerk, war Handkes Krankengeschichte eine regelrechte Erholung für mich. So seltsam das auch klingen mag.

[George K. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Αυτό ήταν ένα από τα βιβλία που έψαχνα πολύ καιρό και με μια κάποια μανία στα διάφορα παλαιοβιβλιοπωλεία, όντας για χρόνια εξαντλημένο, όμως οι προσπάθειες μου έπεφταν συνεχώς στο κενό. Τελικά, στα τέλη του 2017, οι εκδόσεις Gutenberg μας έκαναν τη χάρη να το επανεκδόσουν επιτέλους και έτσι ένα τόσο κλασικό και ιδιαίτερο βιβλίο είναι και πάλι διαθέσιμο, όπως πραγματικά του αξίζει.

Πρόκειται για ένα ξεχωριστό και παράδοξο βιβλίο, σίγουρα όχι για όλα τα γούστα και όχι για όλες τις ώρες, είναι ένα βιβλίο που προβληματίζει και δημιουργεί ποικίλα συναισθήματα. Παρακολουθούμε λίγες μέρες από τη ζωή του Γιόζεφ Μπλοχ, ενός πρώην διάσημου τερματοφύλακα, που μετά την απόλυσή του περιφέρεται αρχικά στη Βιέννη (όπου και πραγματοποιεί έναν φόνο) και έπειτα σε μια μικρή πόλη κοντά στα σύνορα, όπου οι ρυθμοί ζωής είναι ασφυκτικά αργοί και μονότονοι. Ουσιαστικά γινόμαστε μάρτυρες της απογοήτευσης και της απελπισίας που διακατέχει τον κοινωνικά αποξενωμένο κεντρικό πρωταγωνιστή, ο οποίος δεν έχει κάποιον συγκεκριμένο σκοπό με όλο το πέρα-δώθε του. Το στιλ γραφής είναι στρυφνό, κοφτό και ίσως επίπεδο, χωρίς ιδιαίτερο συναίσθημα, ο ρεαλισμός αφόρητα έντονος, η ατμόσφαιρα μουντή έως καταθλιπτική.

Δεν είναι ένα βιβλίο για να περάσει καλά ο αναγνώστης. Είναι ένα βιβλίο, όμως, που έχει κάποια πράγματα να πει για τον σύγχρονο άνθρωπο. Η γραφή μου άρεσε πάρα πολύ και μου δημιούργησε κάποια περίεργα συναισθήματα με όλες αυτές τις περιγραφές των κινήσεων και των σκέψεων του πρωταγωνιστή, όμως οφείλω να παραδεχτώ ότι σε πολλούς αναγνώστες μπορεί να φανεί βαρετή και μονότονη. Κάποια στιγμή θα δω και την ομότιτλη ταινία του Βιμ Βέντερς, ενώ σίγουρα θα διαβάσω και άλλα βιβλία του συγγραφέα.

[Hakan · Rating 5 out of 5]

daha ilk paragraftan soru işaretleriyle peşine takılıyoruz kahramanın. gündelik olaylar, durumlar, diyaloglar, basit bir dil, kısa cümleler...ama anlamıyor kahramanımız, anlatamıyor, anlaşamıyor. okur olarak özdeşleşmemiz imkansız neredeyse. bizi yavaşlatıyor, duraklatıyor ve kolayca anlamlandırıp çabucak geçeceğimiz detaylara odaklanmaya zorluyor. kahramanın zihnine giremiyoruz, onun gözüyle bakamıyoruz. ama odaklandıkça, farkındalığımız, duyarlılığımız arttıkça kahramanımızın anlamaması-anlatamaması-anlaşamaması anlaşılır hale gelmeye başlıyor bizim için. daha doğrusu en basit, en sıradan olan söz konusuyken bile anlaşmanın ne kadar karmaşık ve zor olduğunu gösteriyor bize kahramanımız. bunu gördüğümüz andan itibaren anlatının merkezine ulaşıyoruz ve kahramanımız ve haliyle onun anlatısı-hikayesi ne kadar tuhaflaşırsa tuhaflaşsın bir an bile o merkezden kopamıyoruz artık. anlaşmak zor, iletişim imkansız ve dil bu anlaşmazlığın sebebi, ta kendisi bazen.

anlatı bir yönüyle deneysel, ama bir yönüyle hayata açılmayı da başarıyor. iletişimsizliğe aşina ya da iletişimsizlikten mustaripseniz çarpıcı oluyor, değilseniz, böyle bir meseleniz yoksa şaşırtıyor ve her halükarda olağana-sıradana-genel kabullere başka bakmaya zorluyor. bu anlamda güçlü, çok güçlü bir anlatı. gereğinden fazla güçlü hatta. olumsuz olarak da belki bu söylenebilir: yoruyor, bunaltıyor, dahası sahici bir endişe ve yalnızlık duygusu veriyor insana. böyle kitapları sevmeyiz, bir de yazarıyla birlikte düşünürsek bu kitap ayrıca itici ama özel. ben kitabın-metnin hakkını verme taraftarıyım. çünkü edebiyatın yapılması gereken pis işleri de var.

[Pavel Nedelcu · Rating 4 out of 5]

THE QUEST FOR A SOCIAL IDENTITY

An unconventional analysis of the human character and the constant quest for social identity. The inner crisis of the Kafkian protagonist, Bloch, not only describes an early case of schizophrenia, but is also related to a need to understand what his own place, in a society in which he used to serve as a soccer goalkeeper, has, in the meantime, become.

A radical, conscious choice is that of becoming a murderer; and this not for the mere pleasure of killing (or at least not physically), but as a step in the process of re-definition of the self. Another fundamental element of Bloch's crisis is language. The social language, he realizes, is full of misunderstandings, of incomplete and insignificant expressions.

Even the author's style reflects the deep crisis of the protagonist. His sentences might be seen as cinematic images representing only what is to be seen and heard, and very rarely what one might think. Most certainly an original book, written with the full awareness of what it represents: at times, even at the expense of a pleasant reading.

[Jörg · Rating 2 out of 5]

While sitting in a café and reading this, the waitress asked me if this is a book about football. I quickly tried to find the least embarrassing answer: reading about football or reading about a man losing his grip on reality. I went for the lukewarm option and said that it's hard to explain in a few words.

I have a problem with this book. It's not enjoyable to read, it's not a topic I'm interested in. I don't even want to talk about what I'm reading there. I merely read it as it was on my shelf as part of a series of books I bought and it was short. To its defense, it's well-written and as disconcerting as it is, it seems to capture the essence of what it sets out to do: a man losing his mind. Trying to keep in touch with his environment but barely being able to do so by focusing on details as unimportant as they might be.

What does this have to do with the fear of the goalie before the penalty kick? Ordinarily, every sane person focuses on the main thing, the ball. In this extraordinary moment, both involved parties shift the focus away from the ball, focusing on the opponent's movements. Is insanity simply a shift of perception?

[Biljana · Rating 3 out of 5]

Jozef Bloh, bivši fudbalski golman, jednog dana dobija otkaz na poslu montera, i od tog trenutka počinju njegova lutanja ulicama Beča.

A njegova lutanja, svojstvena Handkeovim protagonistima, prepuna su prizora, koje Bloh smatra čudnim, nepristojnim i nepovezanim. Takvo duševno stanje ga čini ili sasvim mirnim ili veoma agresivnim, neprimjetnim ili onim koji svojevoljno ulazi u tuče sa nepoznatim ljudima.Autor cjelokupnu radnju ovog romana stvara na osnovu jezika i svijeta, kratkim rečenicama stvara napetost koju Bloh ispoljava prema sebi i ljudima i stvarima oko sebe.

U drugom dijelu knjige, bivši golman odlazi u mjesto na granici (ne znamo o kojem mjestu i o kojoj granici se zapravo radi) i tu provodi dane sa mještanima, u šetnji, u tjeskobnoj hotelskoj sobi, njegove misli su pokidane, paranoične, a njegovo kretanje haotično, ali za njega neophodno. Iako njegovo zanimanje golmana ne predstavlja informaciju od važnosti, poslužiće kao važna metafora kojom će biti okončan ovaj roman, metafora o slučajnostima, sreći i prividu kontrole naših postupaka.

Po strukturi i temi slično kao i djelo ''Veliki pad'', ''Golmanov strah'' na trenutke predstavlja teško i konfuzno štivo, ali istovremeno stilski toliko jedinstveno da plijeni pažnju. Handke, kao pisac, ali i kao slikar jezika, ispisuje prizore i karakter Johana Bloka, a privlačnošću takvog stvaranja jasno pokazuje zašto je jedan od najvećih savremenih pisaca našeg vremena.

[Yomna Saber · Rating 3 out of 5]

ثاني وقطعا آخر قراءة لبيتير هاندكه ... الرواية تصور نفس حالة الخواء والعبث والاغتراب الموجودة في رواية الغريب لألبير كامو حيث يفتقد كل فعل أي أهمية ويصبح فارغا بما في ذلك القتل فالبطل كان حارس مرمى ثم تقلد وظيفة أخرى ورفد منها ويجوب أنحاء المدينة بلا هدف يضاجع فتاة لا يعرفها ثم يقتلها بلا سبب أو دافع ويترك المدينة في انتظار القبض عليه ولا تسيطر عليه أي انفعالات لها معنى أو يساوره شعور من الندم ... نفس الحالة العبثية التي نجدها في أعمال بيكيت ويونسكو وكامو مع اهتمام شديد بالتفاصيل وخلق كذا موتيف في السرد مثل اختفاء الطفل الأبكم حتى العثور على جثته وصور أخرى كثيرة .... الكتاب جيد لكني قررت عدم القراءة لهاندكه مرة أخرى

[Normita Normito · Rating 2 out of 5]

Είμαι πολύ αδαής και μικρή για να καταλάβω αυτό το '' κλασσικό μυθιστόρημα στο χώρο του μοντερνισμου '' και την '' γεωμετρική γραφή '' (;) του Handke.
Ο πρωταγωνιστής μάλλον ήταν σχιζοφρενής ή έπασχε από κάποια ψυχική διαταραχή και όλο επαναλβανε διάφορα , σκεφτόταν ανούσια πράγματα και έκανε περίεργες διαδρομές.
Αυτός είναι ο '' δυτικός '' κ σύγχρονος άνθρωπος? Μπορεί κ να είναι αλλά δεν το κατάλαβα από το βιβλίο αλλά από το οπισθόφυλλο.

Μου πήρε 3 μέρες να διαβάσω 170 σελίδες γιατί δεν τραβούσε καθόλου - καθόλου!

Του δίνω μόνο το αίσθημα της ασφυξίας που '' ένιωθα'' καθώς το διαβαζα.