Σε μια συνέντευξή του, ο Φώκνερ σχολιάζει έτσι το έργο του: «...κοιτάζοντάς του σα σύνολο (την πορεία του), βρίσκω πως λέω την ίδια ιστορία, πάλι και πάλι, λέω δηλαδή για μένα και για τον κόσμο. Αυτό νομίζω είναι που αποκαλούν σκοτεινά νοήματα, περίπλοκο άμορφο ύφος, φράσεις χωρίς τελειωμό. Προσπαθώ να τα πω όλα σε μια φράση ανάμεσα στο κεφαλαίο και την τελεία. Τείνω να πιστέψω ότι το θέμα μου, ο Νότος, δεν είναι τόσο σημαντικό για μένα. Τυχαίνει να το ξέρω και δεν υπάρχει καιρός σε μια ζωή να μάθω άλλο θέμα και να γράφω ταυτόχρονα...»
William Cuthbert Faulkner was an American writer. He is best known for his novels and short stories set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County, Mississippi, a stand-in for Lafayette County where he spent most of his life. A Nobel laureate, Faulkner is one of the most celebrated writers of American literature and often is considered the greatest writer of Southern literature. Faulkner was born in New Albany, Mississippi, and raised in Oxford, Mississippi. During World War I, he joined the Royal Canadian Air Force, but did not serve in combat. Returning to Oxford, he attended the University of Mississippi for three semesters before dropping out. He moved to New Orleans, where he wrote his first novel Soldiers' Pay (1925). He went back to Oxford and wrote Sartoris (1927), his first work set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County. In 1929, he published The Sound and the Fury. The following year, he wrote As I Lay Dying. Later that decade, he wrote Light in August, Absalom, Absalom! and The Wild Palms. He also worked as a screenwriter, contributing to Howard Hawks's To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep, adapted from Raymond Chandler's novel. The former film, adapted from Ernest Hemingway's novel, is the only film with contributions by two Nobel laureates. Faulkner's reputation grew following publication of Malcolm Cowley's The Portable Faulkner, and he was awarded the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature for "his powerful and unique contribution to the modern American novel." He is the only Mississippi-born Nobel laureate. Two of his works, A Fable (1954) and The Reivers (1962), won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. Faulkner died from a heart attack on July 6, 1962, following a fall from his horse the month before. Ralph Ellison called him "the greatest artist the South has produced".
Faulkner is some kind of author, constructing these gorgeous, intense, lavishly long and winding sentences full of commas and semicolons (my favorite) and parentheses and interesting adjectives and surprising offhand observations that still give one pause (to think on one's own experiences and how they connect with those offhand observations so casually made yet so often ringing with a certain timeless and often sad truth) and somewhat dismissive bits of characterization (that don't feel so dismissive once one again pauses (although it is hard to pause when the sentence goes on for so long, one could get lost) and thinks over what was just said because Faulkner doesn't seem like the sort of author who just casually dismisses a character; close observation of what he is trying to say is of paramount importance) and a narrative that ebbs and flows, starts and stops; clearly the narrative is not the most important thing in his stories. He is like a talkative lover who wants to talk and talk and talk about their love and their passion and who wants to try all sorts of new things, who wants to take you into their world, surround you, just really take you over; I'm not usually into those kinds of lovers but they and Faulkner can be so overwhelming that my defenses are forced down and I have to do things in a new way, their way and his way, and in the end it's not a bad experience, but it is their experience that I have become a part of; as I said, it's distinctly like being taken over, at least temporarily. Faulkner doesn't make things easy for his readers, he wants them to live in his world and in his mind and so his passion and ease and experimentation with language (including a first for me: parentheticals that cross two paragraphs! I'm not sure I've come across such a thing before, certainly not something I recall from reading Faulkner in the past, in high school, with the fearsome and possibly senile southern belle Mrs. Durham, rest in peace.
Ah, Mrs. Durham! A terrible person in many ways, but hearing her lavish praise of Light in August day after day, despite her students' decided lack of interest, made me realize that passion can be expressed for many things, including and perhaps especially for books.) and his desire to immerse his readers in his worlds by challenging them with that - one would almost say - berserkly baroque use of language, that kind of storytelling, vivid and visceral yet loose and casual too, it is like a delicious provocation that a person like me, who likes challenges, certainly cannot resist. Faulkner's style is like the Old Man River of this novella's title: a force to be reckoned with: a flood that just sweeps and pulls everything inside of it, your will be damned. "Old Man" swept me away for a little while, but it was at times a distancing experience as well, characters who made some kind of sense to me but characters that are still unknowable by the end, despite all of the words words words. And despite all of the words words words, these characters barely talk! Everyone locked in their stony worlds, their barred cells where they follow their own rules and things like empathy and kindness are never given, man that journey down the river, the people our convict and our pregnant lady come across, the lack of compassion, I could barely understand it: why can't the people in "Old Man" and why can't people in general just show some goddamned mercy?
I didn't understand it until in one terrible flood of understanding I did understand it: I'm like those people too, especially that trio on the boat who refuse to shelter our convict and our pregnant lady, clearly in dire straits and out in terrible, life-endangering weather, they showed compassion in their own way by giving some food but they didn't take in our convict and our pregnant lady on the verge of giving birth; just as I didn't take that poor homeless guy and his cat on a leash huddled in a doorway in either, not when I see them in the sunlight nor when I saw them last night in the torrential rain and terrible cold while on my way home from the store, all I can do is spare some change and maybe pick up some cat food for him, but the thing is, I could have, there's room in my basement, not the best accommodations but it is outside of the fucking rain and cold, but no, I'm not going to do that, I'm going to walk on and feel sad and help out in a small way that doesn't matter much but I'm not a bad person, not really, and so I realized these people are not "bad people" either, and what does that mean anyway, they are just people who are looking out for themselves and don't want to compromise their world and that's like me and the convict and the pregnant lady too, we all live our own lives and follow the rules of our own worlds, even when we could do otherwise, we do what we know and stick with what we know; and so after all of his adventures and his amazing bravery in protecting our pregnant lady, at the end our convict is back in his jail cell, not much the worse for wear, and he's happy to be back in the box where he feels the most comfortable, where he understands who he is. Just as I'm happy in the box where I'm comfortable. Personally I don't think Faulkner believes in these boxes; well, he respects them in his own way, and he doesn't hold the fact of the box against the person who lives in that box, but I doubt he believes they are necessary to truly living a life. He's too outside of the box to think that way, I think.
Replace Sisyphus with a simpleton convict, his boulder with a pregnant woman in a skiff, and the hill with a wall of water and you have Faulkner's "The Old Man". It's just as thrilling as that sounds. Thank goodness it's short.
"Αυτό είναι που μ’ απόκοψε βίαια από το μόνο πράμα που γνώριζα και δεν επιθυμούσα ν’ αφήσω και με πέταξε πάνω σ’ ένα μέσο που είχα γεννηθεί για να φοβάμαι, για ν’ αράξω τελικά σ’ ένα τόπο που ποτέ μου δεν είχα ξαναδεί και όπου δεν ξέρω καν που βρίσκομαι…”
প্রথম কথা - শহীদ কাদরী জাত অনুবাদক ছিলেন।ফকনারের দীর্ঘ জটিল বাক্য তিনি সাবলীলতার সাথে অনুবাদ করেছেন। দ্বিতীয় কথা - হাকলবেরি ফিনের মতো এটাও আমেরিকার নদীপথে অভিযানের গল্প। মূল কাহিনি ছোট। ফকনার গল্পের পরিবেশ জীবন্তভাবে তুলে ধরতে দক্ষ। মানুষগুলোকে তাদের দোষগুণের বাইরে ঠিক মানুষ বলে চেনা যায়। লম্বা আসামির জেলজীবন ও পরবর্তী জীবন কেমন ছিলো, জানতে পারলে ভালো হতো।
انتظار داشتم کتاب هیجان انگیزتری باشه، از ترجمه اش اصلا خوشم نیومد. یک جورایی زمخت بود. شخصیت زندانی بلند قد برام چندان قابل هضم نبود ولی فضا سازی خوبی داشت (با اینکه محتواشون خیلی تفاوت داشت ولی من رو یاد رمان تام سایر مینداخت)
"Era uma vez dois forçados (passou-se isto no Mississippi, em Maio, no ano da grande cheia de 1927). Um deles, alto, esgrouviado, o ventre estio, de pele crestada pelo sol e cabelo negro de índio, andava pelos vinte e cinco anos" (...) "O segundo forçado era baixo e grosso. Quase calvo, era muito branco."
A few pages read, the first great impression is that the writer had a peculiar syntax. Definitely.
Is the book a veiled critique to the USA justice system in 1927? Is it somehow misogynist?
A prison inmate saved a pregnant girl from the terrible flood, one of epic proportions; she sat on a tree in the first place; he allowed her to have a baby [a boy] on land, he fed her; they had to eat possum, fish, rabbit and one snake…(…) In the end he got 10 more years in jail. No wonder his last words on the book were “women!”. And yet the book tells almost nothing regarding that girl.
ماجرای مردیست که به دلیل اقدام برای سرقت قطار به حبس طولانی مدت محکوم شده است. پس از سیلاب وحشتناکی مرد برای نجات افرادی با زندانی دیگری سوار قایق میشود و طی اتفاقی از مسیر خارج شده و با زنی باردار همسفر میشود و تصمیم میگیرد که از اون مراقبت کند و....
I’m not going to say I absolutely disliked this book because it’s not the case. It’s just nearly the case. If it was not for the extremely bright and wise way it was written (I mean, vocabulary wise) I would have hated its guts. It’s so damn fucking boring (!!!), like boring to the core. I had a hard time trying to focus on this one. The story is just so bland. I don’t fucking care about floods in the Mississippi (!) and I didn’t like the fact that none of the characters had names (!) they were just called “forced labored person nº1 and nº2 and nº3” lol, not exactly like that, but close. Maybe I got it, yeah, they were dehumanized because they lived in such conditions, but even so. Common!
And yes, this revived my memories of another book I have read, oh yes that one ! Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad! All the journey through the river was quite similar and uneventful and quite frankly just sad…
And I guess I’m just writing this with such “reversed passion” because, man it’s FAULKNER! IT’S WILLIAM FUCKING FAULKNER! I wanted to read this guy since forever!!! And what I get in return? Fucking boring trips in the floods of a river! Dang! I don’t get it! If you got it please get back at me.
Anyway, I’m still eager to read As I lay Dying, because and I repeat IT’S WILLIAM FUCKING FAULKNER!! So of course he deserves a second chance in my book.
ترجمهی به غایت بد. چندجا جملات اصلا معنی نداشتن. جملات معنیدار هم به طرز عجیبی میلنگیدن و از فهمیدهشدن طفره میرفتن. داستان هنوز پا نگرفته بود که بیخیالش شدم.
پیرمرد» بر زمينه یک رویداد تاریخی بنا شده است؛ یعنی طغیان رودخانه میسیسیپی. شخصیت اصلی رمان «زندانی بلندقد» نام دارد؛ مرد جوانی است که در پانزدهسالگی بهخاطر اقدام به سرقت مسلحانه به زندان محکوم میشود. او حالا در بیستوپنجسالگی، همراه بقیه زندانیان برای کمک به سیلزدگان روانه میشود. مأموریت او که دستورالعملاش بیشباهت به ساختار داستانهای پریان نیست این است: «همینطور راستِ تیرهای تلفن را بگیرید و بروید تا به یک پمپ بنزین برسید. آن را پیدا میکنید. چون هنوز سقفش از آب بیرون است. پمپ بنزین لبِ یک تالاب است. آن را هم پیدا میکنید. چون نوک درختهایش از آن بیرون است. همینطور تالاب را بگیرید و بروید تا به یک درختِ سرو برسید که روی آن یک زن نشسته، او را بردارید و بعد راهتان را به طرف غرب بکشید تا به یک انبار پنبه برسید که روی تیرک افقی سقف آن یک مرد نشسته.» او و زندانی چاقْ بلم را برمیدارند و به آب میزنند. اما چندی بعد بلم واژگون میشود و زندانی چاق خبر میآورد که زندانی بلندقد غرق شده است. بااینحال زندانی بلندقد از مهلکه نجات پیدا میکند. زن را که حامله است نجات میدهد و در زایمان کمکاش میکند؛ بند ناف بچه را با تیزی یک قوطی میبرد. بعد برمیخورند به یک کشتی، سوار میشوند و بعد در یک ساحل پیدا میشوند. آنجا ده روزی را با یک شکارچی تمساح سر میکنند که با یک زبان قاطی با زبان فرانسوی حرف میزند. اما آنها حرف همدیگر را میفهمند. بعد از مدتی که خاکریز میشکند آنها دوباره به رودخانه برمیگردند. سوار یک لنج نجات میشوند. و در نهایت او خود را به معاون کلانتر تسلیم میکند و ده سال به حکمش به اتهام سعی در فرار اضافه میشود. «پیرمرد» رمان خلافِ عادتی است. دستکم در ظاهر. قهرمان رمان و داستان معمولی میداند چه میخواهد. سعی و تلاش میکند آن را به دست آورد. دنبال پول و ثروت و معشوق و شهوت است در داستان عامیانه. در داستان جدی هم دنبال شناخت خود یا جهان خود است. اما ما تکلیفمان را با این آدم، با زندانی بلندقد نمیدانیم. او چه میخواهد؟ دنبال چی است. پول و ثروت و آزادی از زندان هم نمیخواهد. حتی نمیخواهد عملی قهرمانانه انجام دهد. انگار او در نوعی حالت بیخبری بهسر میبرد. تنها چیزی که ظاهرا حتی به سطح آگاهیاش هم نمیآید سماجت و پایداری اوست در انجام تکلیفاش. او فقط میخواهد وظیفهاش را انجام دهد. اما حتی این را هم نمیداند. وقتی هم بعد برای همبندهایش داستان را میگوید اصلا لحن قهرمانانه ندارد. او الکن و کمگوست. در قسمتهايی از داستان، نويسنده با ظرافت خاصی و كاملا غيرمستقيم به زندگی انسانها اشاره میكند تا جايی كه در صفحه 61 از كتاب میخوانيم: «آخر زندانی دلش هوای خانه و زندگیاش را میكرد، جايی كه تقريبا از كودكی در آن زندگی كرده بود، و ياد دوستان قديمیاش را میكرد كه به خلق و خوی همديگر خوب وارد بودند، و ياد كشتزارهای آشنا كه روی آنها كار میكرد و آموخته بود كه كارش را بینقص انجام دهد و اينكه قاطرها را دوست بدارد، خلق و خوی قاطرها نزد او شناخته شده و محترم بود، همانطور كه برای خلق و خوی چند آدم بخصوص هم حرمت قائل بود، دلش هوای شبهای زندان را میكرد، تابستانها پشت دریها را میانداختند كه ساس و پشه داخل نيايد، و در زمستان بخاریها گرم بود و از بابت سوخت و غذا هم هيچ كم و كسری نبود؛ ياد يكشنبهها و توپ بازی و فيلمهايی كه تماشا میكردند...» . . انتظارم از فاکنر بیشتر اینها بود به همین خاطر سه ستاره دادم.با اینحال نحوه بیان و توصیفات داستان بسیار بی نظیر و تحسین برانگیز بود.
پیرمرد نوشتهی ویلیام فاکنر،دو مرد زندانی که فاکنر تا پایان با نام "زندانی چاق و زندانی قد بلند" از آنها یاد میکند در زمان سیلاب ناشی از طغیان می سی سی پی ماجرائی تراژیک و غمباردارند که موضوع داستان است.متن روان است و توصیف شرایط عالیست.نقل از متن:" آخر زندانی دلش هوای خانه و زندگی اش را می کرد، جایی که تقریبا از کودکی در آن زندگی کرده بود، و یاد دوستان قدیمی اش را می کرد که به خلق و خوی همدیگر خوب وارد بودند، و یاد کشتزارهای آشنا که روی آنها کار می کرد و آموخته بود که کارش را بی نقص انجام دهد و اینکه قاطرها را دوست بدارد، خلق و خوی قاطرها نزد او شناخته شده و محترم بود، همان طور که برای خلق و خوی چند آدم بخصوص هم حرمت قائل بود، دلش هوای شب های زندان را می کرد، تابستان ها پشت دری ها را می انداختند که ساس و پشه داخل نیاید، و در زمستان بخاری ها گرم بود و از بابت سوخت و غذا هم هیچ کم و کسری نبود؛ یاد یکشنبه ها و توپ بازی و فیلم هایی که تماشا می کردند - یعنی یاد چیزهایی می کرد، که به استثنای توپ بازی، پیش از آنکه به زندان بیفتد، روحش هم از آنها بی خبر بود."
At first, I thought this book was very boring. Nothing interested me, and I found myself zoning out. However, once I became immersed in Faulkner's prose and interesting themes became more prevalent, it took on new life. That being said, I always find myself totally lost in his stories until the very end, and at that point, I'm exhausted. I can't tell you how many times I had to slow down and reread something. That just doesn't happen when I read other authors, and I don't think that is a good thing. I believe the stream-of-consciousness and unique metaphors can be achieved more efficiently, and I do not believe that they are contingent on those damn long-winded sentences. Experimental writing is great, but it should be good in its own right lest it be bad for the sake of being bad. That all being said, I enjoyed it.
Taking place in the great 1927 Mississippi flood, the hero of this story is a prisoner who is assigned to save a pregnant women who has been spotted up a tree somewhere in the flooded plain. After saving her the strong currents prevent them from returning and the three of them (the convict, the women, and her newborn son) travel down the Mississippi while being presumed dead by the authorities. But the hero's sense of duty is such that he tries to get back and return the mother and child to the authorities, which he finally manages to do, receiving an additional ten years sentence for the presumed attempted escape...
The reading group I belong to decided to read Absalom, Absalom! next. So I thought I should read a shorter work by Faulkner to get acquainted with the style. One thing is for sure. Reading the novel will be a hard piece of work.
What is the The Old Man about? I do not really know. A convict escapes on a boat. There is a flood. He rescues a pregnant woman. And then after a while he returns back to prison and gets an additional 10 years. The woman visits him once and then disappears.
The language is nice but quite hard to understand. I found myself reading aloud from time to time. But this did not help in understanding what was going on.
Comeca e termina muito bem. Pelo meio tanto há descrições de um meio que pouco ou nada conheço (o ecossistema do Mississippi, digamos) como passagens carregadas somente de puro exibicionismo linguístico, mais demonstrativo no uso de palavras caras do que na subtileza no desenvolvimento das situações. Não fosse isso e esta novela relativamente curta não teria dado por vezes uma sensação de sofrimento ao virar das páginas. Coisa que não senti, pelo contrário, no único outro livro de Faulkner que li, o magnífico "O Som e a Fúria".
I've got the feeling that I have betrayed myself by having read 'Old Man' as an independent novella, rather than a chapter of 'Wild Palms'. I came to that conclusion after having finished it, and after having read several critical articles about it; so perhaps it was not much of a betrayal, but an innocent blunder. I should make sure I read Wild Palms in order to alleviate it.
If you are planning to read Old Man, don't. Don't betray yourself. Read Wild Palms (the book containing both chapters, Wild Palms and Old Man) instead.
به عنوان یک داستان سوررئال به نظرم نیاز بود فضاسازی بهتری انجام بشه، شاید ایراد از ترجمه بوده باشه ولی به هرحال ارتباط برقرار کردن با حال و هوای داستان به وسیلهی تجسم شرایط خیلی سخت بود. در عین حال، وجههی تلخ و ترسناک رمان به عنوان آیینهای از زندگی بد نبود، ولی به خاطر تکراری بودن، زیاد برای من کشش نداشت. در جایگاه کتابی که در بیحوصلگی نیمهشب دستم گرفتم، چندان علاقهام رو جلب نکرد. شاید بهتر بود فاکنر رو با کتاب دیگری آغاز میکردم.
Há uma inundação e dois prisioneiros ficam responsáveis por salvar uma mulher grávida presa numa árvore. Premissa simples para um livro que embora curto, torna-se longo e pesado, com frases e ações longas, que se arrastam como o rio que inunda as paisagens, com as suas poucas personagens, que nem nomes têm, com os flashbacks e flashforwards na leitura... Não será certamente a melhor introdução a William Faulkner, como foi o meu caso...
An extremely well written book about a prisoner whose assignment was to go rescue a lady out of a tree in a major flood - it's in the Mississippi Rivers - with nature, the struggle of human kind trying to survive and the conflicts of interests between prisoners and poor people living on the rivers.
Repleto de analogias, descrições intermináveis de paisagens catastróficas e de narrações de estados de espíritos intemporais conta a aventura de um forçado no Mississipi. A proximidade da Natureza e uma excelente capacidade de observação tornam este texto como aquelas conversas daquele amigo que fala apaixonadamente de um tema, e fala e descreve e fala.
Ich brauchte etwas, um in den Rhythmus des Buches zu kommen. Ab und an habe ich mich auch über die Sprache erschrocken. Derbe, rassistische Personenbezeichnungen. Aber so wars wohl. Und die Sprache rauscht wie der Strom und hat ihre Strudel. Und am Ende wird sie ruhig. Und in allem bleibt die zynische Ausweglosigkeit der Lebenswelten der Peotagonisten der Geschichte.
The page-long Faulkner run-on sentences are famous, but they can be exhausting to read. I might have found this novella more appealing if had been in a different frame of mind. Obviously, I'm in no position to critique Faulkner's writing. As a matter of personal taste, though, this was a tedious story about an unpleasant series of events.
1927, the great flood, a convict, a small skiff, a pregnant woman about to give birth, The Mississippi River (Old Man) -- they all come together in this novel by William Faulkner. The convict had the most choices to make in this story and the most to gain depending on those choices. Did he end up where he belonged facing ten more years? Read the novel and then you decide.