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Native Realm: A Search for Self Realism
'He illustrates through personal experience how he was tossed by circumstances from one civilization into another, from high pressure areas into low, and vice versa...The reader will find this text a unique, refreshing experience.'--Library Journal
Hardcover
First published January 1, 1959
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 58 reviews
August 13, 2016
As an Eastern-European myself, this book touched me deeply. Czeslaw Milosz describes the destruction of this part of Europe, it's cities, it's people, it's intelligence and moreover - it's dignity. He does not describe so much the events themselves as he does the characters. He thus opens up the Polish-Lithuanian conflict, the Jewish concern, the everlasting confrontation with the big brother from the East, and the pre and war time attitude of Germans towards Poles through the stories and faith of the people who have been part of authors life.
He describes the way of thinking of 'old Europe' towards those behind the Iron curtain, as if those from the East were somehow less worthy, less intelligent, less of a citizens of Europe. This mentality, having two parallel Europes - the poor and the rich, the one which tends to be perceived with high-culture while as the other is somehow cultureless, is still very much relevant in modern times. Paraphrasing- Have we too not have beautiful baroque architecture, aren't our bookshelves filled with authors both local and foreign, don't we too have universities founded centuries ago?
Czeslaw Milosz made me analyse my own behaviour. Too often when I travel and have had people asking me about my origins, I reply - oh I'm from this country, and then quickly add before anyone has a chance to specify - It's in Northern Europe. After reading this I truly realize that I am Eastern-European. Yes, we are also in the North, but we are not Nordic nor Scandinavian. We are Eastern-European, our past has defined who we are, we see the world differently from those in the South or West and that's perfectly okay. In fact, it's bloody great.
He describes the way of thinking of 'old Europe' towards those behind the Iron curtain, as if those from the East were somehow less worthy, less intelligent, less of a citizens of Europe. This mentality, having two parallel Europes - the poor and the rich, the one which tends to be perceived with high-culture while as the other is somehow cultureless, is still very much relevant in modern times. Paraphrasing- Have we too not have beautiful baroque architecture, aren't our bookshelves filled with authors both local and foreign, don't we too have universities founded centuries ago?
Czeslaw Milosz made me analyse my own behaviour. Too often when I travel and have had people asking me about my origins, I reply - oh I'm from this country, and then quickly add before anyone has a chance to specify - It's in Northern Europe. After reading this I truly realize that I am Eastern-European. Yes, we are also in the North, but we are not Nordic nor Scandinavian. We are Eastern-European, our past has defined who we are, we see the world differently from those in the South or West and that's perfectly okay. In fact, it's bloody great.
February 8, 2017
I'm very glad that I got back to this book and reread it after so many years. It's still very up to date and prophetic in many ways.
September 18, 2007
In one of the more inane projects of library school, I had to prepare an index for an index-less book. For some reason I didn't do Nabokov's Strong Opinions, an index to which I actually need. I was reading this at the time and figured why not. After starting the assignment I found myself in the very deep waters of cental european historical geography, drowning in Polish and Lithuanian place names. The assignment didn't blight my budding affection for the book. Milosz, like Brodsky, has become a companionate presence.
March 24, 2020
Kādreiz, sen senos laikos meklēju savas saknes. Gribēju ko vairāk uzzināt par dzīvi pirmskaru Polijā, mēģināt iztēloties vecmammas ģimeni , sadzīvi, likteņus. Nonācu pie šīs grāmatas.
Ļoti, ļoti gribēju, bet nu galīgi nesanāca saslēgties ar tekstu. Bija nodaļas, kuras lasījās viegli, bija tādas, kurās izlasi 30lpp un vispār nevari pateikt, par ko lasīji. Valoda, bez šaubām bagāta, idejas - filozofiski sociālas. Bet nu kaut kā pinķerīgas tās rindkopas!
Lietuvas - Polijas nesaskaņas man tā arī paliks mīkla, ja vien nesanemšos pārlasīt atsevišķus fragmentus.
Ļoti, ļoti gribēju, bet nu galīgi nesanāca saslēgties ar tekstu. Bija nodaļas, kuras lasījās viegli, bija tādas, kurās izlasi 30lpp un vispār nevari pateikt, par ko lasīji. Valoda, bez šaubām bagāta, idejas - filozofiski sociālas. Bet nu kaut kā pinķerīgas tās rindkopas!
Lietuvas - Polijas nesaskaņas man tā arī paliks mīkla, ja vien nesanemšos pārlasīt atsevišķus fragmentus.
November 28, 2007
I never wanted this book to end. It is a memoir told as social history, written by one of the greatest poets of our time. You get the feeling that Milosz has witnessed everything, that he has absorbed it all, and what he has chosen to tell us has had to pass through the dry flame of his intellect. Considering the time and place that this book comes from (Eastern Europe, World War II) it could be full of melodrama and sentimentality--but it is lacking in either. You get the feeling that Milosz had to sacrifice a ton for every sentence that he put into this book; the result is mind blowing.
December 31, 2023
An absolute masterpiece and more then happy to finish 2023 with it!
Review to follow
Review to follow
April 13, 2020
Biju iesācis pirms pāris gadiem, beidzot pabeidzu. Vienu vakaru sagribējās palasīt labas, dziļas domas ar filozofisku ievirzi, bet ne tīru filozofiju. Baigi labi trāpīju. Īpaši nodaļas par marksismu un Krieviju(!). Nopietnās, blīvās, piesātinātās nodaļas mijās ar vieglāk lasāmām.
March 12, 2017
Each time I read Milosz I am reminded anew and catch my breath again at the power of his writing. I think many writers compose and publish because they are compelled to proclaim their answers, what they understand about the world. I am so drawn to Milosz because he writes about what he does not understand and precisely because he does not understand... "If I am not wise, then why must I pretend to be? If I am lost, why must I pretend to have ready counsel for my contemporaries?...And when the air is filled with the clamor of analysis and conclusion, would it be entirely useless to admit you do not understand?" This memoir is subtitled: A Search for Self-Definition. A search. A process. An exploration propelled onward by faith in objective value, faith in objective meaning apart from absolutes. His writing is penetrating.
While reading this memoir I concurrently read much of the poetry he wrote at coinciding times of his life, which gave both the poetry and the memoir larger dimensions.
Reading him this time, I gained an expanded understanding of duality without hypocrisy. An understanding that duality can exist without hypocrisy--in an individual, and in a society--and of what can be derived from the distillation and refining that is gained by means of an inner tension. Inner tension can serve a purpose within the individual and does not exist simply to be overcome or overlooked.
I also read Milosz, and writers like him, because I believe in the importance of remembering. Those of us insulated from the tragic have been (and allow ourselves to be) trained to forget. Writers such as Milosz bear witness to historical experience and human situations (“there are no boundaries to the knowledge of what is human…and we are always pupils in an introductory class”). But such a witness is left meaningless without the Reader, without the Listener, the Audience. I have always felt an intense sense of purpose and meaning in my role as the Reader. The loss of a sense of history and a sense of the tragic is a disablement and an enfeeblement to humanity. I do not want to be trained to forget. In sharing with me a sense of the tragic, Milosz also leads me towards an answer to the question of hope.
While reading this memoir I concurrently read much of the poetry he wrote at coinciding times of his life, which gave both the poetry and the memoir larger dimensions.
Reading him this time, I gained an expanded understanding of duality without hypocrisy. An understanding that duality can exist without hypocrisy--in an individual, and in a society--and of what can be derived from the distillation and refining that is gained by means of an inner tension. Inner tension can serve a purpose within the individual and does not exist simply to be overcome or overlooked.
I also read Milosz, and writers like him, because I believe in the importance of remembering. Those of us insulated from the tragic have been (and allow ourselves to be) trained to forget. Writers such as Milosz bear witness to historical experience and human situations (“there are no boundaries to the knowledge of what is human…and we are always pupils in an introductory class”). But such a witness is left meaningless without the Reader, without the Listener, the Audience. I have always felt an intense sense of purpose and meaning in my role as the Reader. The loss of a sense of history and a sense of the tragic is a disablement and an enfeeblement to humanity. I do not want to be trained to forget. In sharing with me a sense of the tragic, Milosz also leads me towards an answer to the question of hope.
September 18, 2025
Цікавезні спогади-філософські есеї про досвід від першої світової до 50-тих Чеслава Мілоша і дещо його товаришів, його "бульбашки" в Польщі. Коли читала, то багато яких подій здавались майже такими самими як те, що ми переживаємо у цій війні. Особлива частина стосунків між уявною Західною і Східною Європою, формування ідентичності на тлі «сусідів».
Трохи про імперіалізм Пушкіна, "и все славянские реки сольются в русском море", і російської культури загалом, про міфічну російську душу, яка прагне справедливості, але тільки на папері, про холодну жорстокість, просто бідність душевну, неспроможність. Безцінно читати, як він чітко доходить до глибокого розуміння.
Неймовірно класна книга, от хіба знайти її в продажі дуже важко. Але є в бібліотеках.
Трохи про імперіалізм Пушкіна, "и все славянские реки сольются в русском море", і російської культури загалом, про міфічну російську душу, яка прагне справедливості, але тільки на папері, про холодну жорстокість, просто бідність душевну, неспроможність. Безцінно читати, як він чітко доходить до глибокого розуміння.
Неймовірно класна книга, от хіба знайти її в продажі дуже важко. Але є в бібліотеках.
March 12, 2025
Not what I expected from the author of The Captive Mind. From the outset, it attempts to explain to a Western audience what makes Eastern Europe tick and how it differs—through history and destiny from the Western part of the continent. The weapon of choice is unorthodox: an autobiography. In the end, it is neither fully this nor that.
As an autobiography, there are too many blank spots, too many allusions—even when the characters are long dead and have no need for anonymity. Too little of 'my struggle'. As a historical perspective, it lacks sufficient context, focusing too much on the personal. Then again, some passages read like annotations added at a later stage.
The best part of the book is the author's reflections on Tiger, an anonymous Polish philosophy professor. At times, I thought he was an alter ego, but no—Milosz is certainly speaking of Bolesław Miciński, a Polish writer and friend. In any case, both are torn between the anti-capitalist Left and the anti-totalitarian Right, belonging to both and neither. I can relate to that.
As an autobiography, there are too many blank spots, too many allusions—even when the characters are long dead and have no need for anonymity. Too little of 'my struggle'. As a historical perspective, it lacks sufficient context, focusing too much on the personal. Then again, some passages read like annotations added at a later stage.
The best part of the book is the author's reflections on Tiger, an anonymous Polish philosophy professor. At times, I thought he was an alter ego, but no—Milosz is certainly speaking of Bolesław Miciński, a Polish writer and friend. In any case, both are torn between the anti-capitalist Left and the anti-totalitarian Right, belonging to both and neither. I can relate to that.
December 23, 2011
A terse history of Northeastern Europe--told as if philosophy and poetry mattered, were not just additions to real life, but life itself. I see nothing wrong with that. I should add that the contempt for the soft sciences (or any liberal art) necessarily elevates the hard--so we're stuck in the maths as a principle. Nature may obey the sovereignty of logic--culture clearly does not. Milosz's nuance and breadth of learning demand a great deal of attention from the reader. It's easy to glance at life, especially if locked into a seemingly changeless society. Milosz visits, then lives in America, and, after two world wars, sees a land and people free of history. The tragic is noticeably absent. I don't disagree. We're all of us pushed into our towers, leaning against them, and they do not move (though one day they will fall). It seems this American order will not budge. It seems, too, that the rest of world is in flux. Our two-century-old constitution helps, as does the devastation of the past century--not just in Western Europe, but through Russia, South Asia, Southeast Asia, and China (the millions of communist dead)--perhaps New Zealand feels as these United States. ---To combat the plastic soul, I recommend humor and irony. Too, I recommend a reconsideration of accounting: some time left uncounted, some old things around you, a distaste for nylon, and some tender moments of humility as the ancient earth goes on without.
May 12, 2010
A brilliant man who lived an incredible life. His poetic writing makes you believe every word and makes you feel like you're with him every step of the way.
"In a certain sense I can consider myself a typical Eastern European. It seems to be true that this differentia specifica can be boiled down to a lack of from-both inner and outer. His good qualities-intellectual avidity, fervor in discussion, a sense of irony, freshness of feeling, spatial (or geographical) fantasy- derive from a basic weakness: he always remains an adolescent, governed by a sudden ebb or flow of inner chaos. Form is achieved in stable societies. My own case is enough to verify how much of an effort it takes to absorb contradictory traditions, norms, and an overabundance of impressions, and to put them into some kind of order. The things that surround us in childhood need no justification, they are self-evident. If, however, they whirl around like particles in a kaleidoscope, ceaselessly changing position, it takes no small amount of energy simply to plant one's feet on solid ground without falling."
"Every one of us is hinged to the society we grew up in, even though we succumb to the illusion that we are free."
"In a certain sense I can consider myself a typical Eastern European. It seems to be true that this differentia specifica can be boiled down to a lack of from-both inner and outer. His good qualities-intellectual avidity, fervor in discussion, a sense of irony, freshness of feeling, spatial (or geographical) fantasy- derive from a basic weakness: he always remains an adolescent, governed by a sudden ebb or flow of inner chaos. Form is achieved in stable societies. My own case is enough to verify how much of an effort it takes to absorb contradictory traditions, norms, and an overabundance of impressions, and to put them into some kind of order. The things that surround us in childhood need no justification, they are self-evident. If, however, they whirl around like particles in a kaleidoscope, ceaselessly changing position, it takes no small amount of energy simply to plant one's feet on solid ground without falling."
"Every one of us is hinged to the society we grew up in, even though we succumb to the illusion that we are free."
July 1, 2023
I might be giving this book a "4" as opposed to a "3" because I still WANT to like it a little bit more than I really did. :)
I came across a reference to this book somewhere in the huge amount of reading I've been doing about Poland during WWII. I was intrigued by the idea of reading an auto-biography by a poet who was THERE in Poland during the war, and reading what a future Nobel Prize winner would write about his life during those years.
My favourite sections were actually the early ones describing his childhood in Wilno in Lithuania, and then up to maybe the Government General section (the actual WWII in Poland chapter). Milosz's life story is bundled together with eastern European history, and I quite enjoyed all that. He was a first hand witness to events of both WWI in Lithuania, and the Polish-Russian war circa 1920, and then WWII in Poland... and it's fascinating to read passages like on page 49 when he and his family and their little wagon train of refugees are getting shelled by artillery and he is describing his childhood memories of turf and shrapnel flying up into the air... and to think this guy... this kid... getting shelled by artillery... he's a future Nobel Prize Laureate!. I mean... one random Russian soldier tilting a field gun a little more to the right or left... and none of Milosz's poetry would ever have been written.
I had a similar feeling in the Peace Boundary section when he is describing an illegal smuggler sort of trip with Sophia from Wilno to Warsaw. Sophia is a well-experienced spy/smuggler who knows what she is doing, but they end up having to travel with a somewhat oafish pharmacist who is trying to sneak back into Poland to see his family. They hide in haylofts etc together, and the thought crosses your mind "wow... this stupid pharmacist.... i wonder if he ever realized years later, that he was making a fool of himself in front of a guy who'd become one of the most imporant poets of the 20th century".
Anyway - I enjoyed the more "meaty" sections of the book, where philosophy and European politics took a back seat to the gripping stories about his adventures in this incredible era of European history. But, his long sections (the Tiger sections at the end for example) about the morass of European politics and intellectual life after the war, were too theoretical for me and I lost him there.
But still, a 4 out of 5 for all the sections I did enjoy.
I came across a reference to this book somewhere in the huge amount of reading I've been doing about Poland during WWII. I was intrigued by the idea of reading an auto-biography by a poet who was THERE in Poland during the war, and reading what a future Nobel Prize winner would write about his life during those years.
My favourite sections were actually the early ones describing his childhood in Wilno in Lithuania, and then up to maybe the Government General section (the actual WWII in Poland chapter). Milosz's life story is bundled together with eastern European history, and I quite enjoyed all that. He was a first hand witness to events of both WWI in Lithuania, and the Polish-Russian war circa 1920, and then WWII in Poland... and it's fascinating to read passages like on page 49 when he and his family and their little wagon train of refugees are getting shelled by artillery and he is describing his childhood memories of turf and shrapnel flying up into the air... and to think this guy... this kid... getting shelled by artillery... he's a future Nobel Prize Laureate!. I mean... one random Russian soldier tilting a field gun a little more to the right or left... and none of Milosz's poetry would ever have been written.
I had a similar feeling in the Peace Boundary section when he is describing an illegal smuggler sort of trip with Sophia from Wilno to Warsaw. Sophia is a well-experienced spy/smuggler who knows what she is doing, but they end up having to travel with a somewhat oafish pharmacist who is trying to sneak back into Poland to see his family. They hide in haylofts etc together, and the thought crosses your mind "wow... this stupid pharmacist.... i wonder if he ever realized years later, that he was making a fool of himself in front of a guy who'd become one of the most imporant poets of the 20th century".
Anyway - I enjoyed the more "meaty" sections of the book, where philosophy and European politics took a back seat to the gripping stories about his adventures in this incredible era of European history. But, his long sections (the Tiger sections at the end for example) about the morass of European politics and intellectual life after the war, were too theoretical for me and I lost him there.
But still, a 4 out of 5 for all the sections I did enjoy.
May 24, 2018
I got this book when it was first published, but did not finish it. Last spring I picked it up once again, this time in anticipation of an upcoming first visit to the native realm of my maternal grandparents, Lithuania. I found it good preparation for my visit.
Milosz's memoir is a moving, poetical window into the lost world he and my ancestors once inhabited. He well captures the cultural turmoil and political violence that ravaged that region in the first part of the 20th century--in a very personal way. For example, the story of what happened to his college friends during and after World War II is a microcosm of what happened to many intellectuals during that period--the victims, the collaborators, the fugitives.
However, even though I felt the book prepared me for my visit, I was nevertheless shocked at the destruction of the cities, countryside, and the culture and languages of the people who once lived there. War and occupation have ravaged the Baltics; Milosz brilliantly shows the origins and reasons for this violence.
Milosz's memoir is a moving, poetical window into the lost world he and my ancestors once inhabited. He well captures the cultural turmoil and political violence that ravaged that region in the first part of the 20th century--in a very personal way. For example, the story of what happened to his college friends during and after World War II is a microcosm of what happened to many intellectuals during that period--the victims, the collaborators, the fugitives.
However, even though I felt the book prepared me for my visit, I was nevertheless shocked at the destruction of the cities, countryside, and the culture and languages of the people who once lived there. War and occupation have ravaged the Baltics; Milosz brilliantly shows the origins and reasons for this violence.
August 21, 2018
Galinga knyga. Neapsimesiu, kad viską supratau, tačiau ir tai, ką tariuosi supratusi ar gal labiau pajutusi, sudrebino mano mažą saugų pasaulėlį. Dauguma įžvalgų nėra negirdėtos, XX pabaigoje jos tvyrojo ore, zujo kaip musės mums bandant įsipatoginti ir susisukti šiltus stabilius lizdelius nestabiliame ir nedraugiškame pasaulyje. Sunku pasakyti, kas - dvasinė ekvilibristika, svaigalai ar natūralus ląstelių senėjmas - pagaliau leido atriboti kasdienybę nuo tų skausmingų ir nepadoriai nuogų tiesų. Panašu, kad Milošas su jomis gyveno visą laiką.
Nežinau, kas geriau: rekomenduoti šią knygą vaikams, ar tikėtis, kad nepaklius jiems į akis. (blogiausia būtų, jei po pirmų puslapių sviestų kampan su įvertinimu "Š****").
Kam tikrai reikėtų perskaityti, tai Vakarų ir Rytų Europos politikams. Bet ar egzistuoja knyga, pakeitusi Istoriją? O pakeitusi į gera?
Nežinau, kas geriau: rekomenduoti šią knygą vaikams, ar tikėtis, kad nepaklius jiems į akis. (blogiausia būtų, jei po pirmų puslapių sviestų kampan su įvertinimu "Š****").
Kam tikrai reikėtų perskaityti, tai Vakarų ir Rytų Europos politikams. Bet ar egzistuoja knyga, pakeitusi Istoriją? O pakeitusi į gera?
November 18, 2023
Mam prawo przyznać się, że książka była dla mnie trudna; z fragmentami które czytać musiałam dwukrotnie albo ze stronami, których w ogóle nie przyswoiłam. Czasem jednak z rozmyślań wyrywała mnie historia czy teza na tyle ciekawa, że czułam wartość lektury. I dla tych chwil mam wrażenie, że się opłacało. Ale to tylko wrażenie, dlatego pozycji bym nie poleciła
January 20, 2019
„Nebylystė būna ne vien fizinė, ir prancūziško pokalbio laisvumas gali tik pridengti tingų įsistebėjimą.“
***
„Kiekvienas patyrimas apauga daugybę asociacijų, reikalauja išlikti ir turėti sau tinkamą vietą. Smalsumas, kaip piešėjo darbo paskata, neegzistuoja abstrakčiame mene, tačiau apie save primena visur, kur apyrankės grandinėlė, suknelės segė, galvos poza atrodo verta dėmesio ir pastangų juos užfiksuoti.“
***
„Atsiminimai – tai mūsų gyvenimo dalis, kurią galime papasakoti neraudonuodami. Ambrosse'o Bierce'o aforizmas turėtų atbaidyti atvirumo mėgėjus. Aišku, kad atvirumas yra neįmanomas, ir juo labiau jis vaidinamas, juo didesnis vaidmuo tenka konstrukcijai. Pretenduojant į nepasiekiamą tiesą, meluojama, nes nutylimi dalykai, kurie mus rodytų nepalankioje šviesoje. Jeigu net, kaip šiandien būna, autoriai gėrisi kamuodami patys save ir iš baimėską suklastoti pabrėžia savo kvailiojimus ir klaidas, galime būti tikri, juos veikia vienokia ar kitokia vidinė cenzūra ir kad dugno jie nekuomet nepasieks. Ta esminė negalimybė atskleisti visus likimo duomenis visai nežemina. Jei būtų kitaip, jei nebūtų chaotiškų turtų, prieš kuriuos mūsų priemonės yra tik žibinto skritulys tamsoje, mes nelinktume nuolat į naujas formas, pasiekiamas eliminacijos būdu, ir rašymo menas tikriausiai išnyktų. Užtenka, jeigu suprantama, kiek mintis ir žodis yra netolidūs tam, kas yra tikrovėje. Tuomet galima sažiningai atsiriboti.“
***
„Niekas netrukdo, užuot į pirmą vietą iškėlus asmenį, pirmiausia rūpintis fonu ir į save žvelgti kaip į sociologijos objektą. Tuomet vidiniai išgyvenimai, tokie, kokie išliko atminty, bus vertinami iš aplinką ištykusių permainų perspektyvos. Tam tikrų periodų, mums svarbių, tačiau reikalaujančių itin ypatingo rakto, nutylėjimas rodys pagarbą tiems užkaboriams, kurių yra kiekviename iš mūsų ir kuriuos geriau palikti ramybėje. Užtat išorės pasaulį nuspalvins atsiminimas ar subjektyvus vertinimas, todėl bus išvengta visų sauso traktato regimybių.“
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„Puslapis yra materialus įrodymas, liudytojas.“
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„Nesirūpinkite rytdiena, nes rytojus pats pasirūpins savimi.“ [Kantas]
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„Kiekvienas patyrimas apauga daugybę asociacijų, reikalauja išlikti ir turėti sau tinkamą vietą. Smalsumas, kaip piešėjo darbo paskata, neegzistuoja abstrakčiame mene, tačiau apie save primena visur, kur apyrankės grandinėlė, suknelės segė, galvos poza atrodo verta dėmesio ir pastangų juos užfiksuoti.“
***
„Atsiminimai – tai mūsų gyvenimo dalis, kurią galime papasakoti neraudonuodami. Ambrosse'o Bierce'o aforizmas turėtų atbaidyti atvirumo mėgėjus. Aišku, kad atvirumas yra neįmanomas, ir juo labiau jis vaidinamas, juo didesnis vaidmuo tenka konstrukcijai. Pretenduojant į nepasiekiamą tiesą, meluojama, nes nutylimi dalykai, kurie mus rodytų nepalankioje šviesoje. Jeigu net, kaip šiandien būna, autoriai gėrisi kamuodami patys save ir iš baimėską suklastoti pabrėžia savo kvailiojimus ir klaidas, galime būti tikri, juos veikia vienokia ar kitokia vidinė cenzūra ir kad dugno jie nekuomet nepasieks. Ta esminė negalimybė atskleisti visus likimo duomenis visai nežemina. Jei būtų kitaip, jei nebūtų chaotiškų turtų, prieš kuriuos mūsų priemonės yra tik žibinto skritulys tamsoje, mes nelinktume nuolat į naujas formas, pasiekiamas eliminacijos būdu, ir rašymo menas tikriausiai išnyktų. Užtenka, jeigu suprantama, kiek mintis ir žodis yra netolidūs tam, kas yra tikrovėje. Tuomet galima sažiningai atsiriboti.“
***
„Niekas netrukdo, užuot į pirmą vietą iškėlus asmenį, pirmiausia rūpintis fonu ir į save žvelgti kaip į sociologijos objektą. Tuomet vidiniai išgyvenimai, tokie, kokie išliko atminty, bus vertinami iš aplinką ištykusių permainų perspektyvos. Tam tikrų periodų, mums svarbių, tačiau reikalaujančių itin ypatingo rakto, nutylėjimas rodys pagarbą tiems užkaboriams, kurių yra kiekviename iš mūsų ir kuriuos geriau palikti ramybėje. Užtat išorės pasaulį nuspalvins atsiminimas ar subjektyvus vertinimas, todėl bus išvengta visų sauso traktato regimybių.“
***
„Puslapis yra materialus įrodymas, liudytojas.“
***
„Nesirūpinkite rytdiena, nes rytojus pats pasirūpins savimi.“ [Kantas]
January 9, 2022
""Gimtosios Europos" neskyriau lenkų skaitytojams, nors šie iš jos gali daug sužinoti. Ji buvo ir misionieriaus pamokslas laukiniams, ir bandymas atsakyti į klausimą, kas esu." (p.9)
Net nežinau kada supratau, kad poetai – pavojingi žmonės. Matyt tada, kai susidomėjusi Francis Poulenc opera „Dialogues des Carmélites“ trumpai, bet aistringai susidomėjau 1789-1799 Prancūzų revoliucija. Tiksliau – Teroro laikotarpiu. Poetai visada pavojingi, o kartais net tampa reikalingais valdžioms, ypač specifiniais laikotarpiais – net nereikia toli eiti, savų turime. Ir net jeigu poetas netampa „paturėtas“, blogąja prasme, valdžios, jis pavojingas – jo juslės aštrios, žvilgsnis skrodžia kiaurai, o laiko pojūtis ypatingas. Jis pavojingas, nes priešinasi – esamybei, tradicijai, konformizmui.
Bet aš apie Milošą, su kuriuo pirma pažinti įvyko Kėdainių muziejuje. Laukdama kelionės kompaniono aš nuoširdžiai apžiūrėjau viską, ką mano manymu, reikėjo apžiūrėti Kėdainiuose. Žinot tuos įtartinus muziejų lankytojus, kurie lėtai ir nuodugniai apžiūrinėja ir perskaito viską muziejuje? Jie gan įprasti kai užklumpa lietus Sako, Palangos Gintaro muziejuje tokių būna daug – pati mačiau, per lietų. Tada, Kėdainiuose, net nelijo, o aš ėjau iš salės į salę, kol užėjau į vieną, skirtą Česlovui Milošui. Nustebau. Ne todėl, kad jis kilęs iš tų apylinkių, ne! Nustebau, kad yra tiek daug jo knygų, išverstų į lietuvių kalbą. Kažkiek net susigėdau. Pirmiausia paragavau „Isos slėnio“ ir padėjau ateičiai. Tada ėmiausi „Pavergto proto“ ir skaičiau šūkčiodama ir vis atsiversdama pažiūrėti į pirmo leidimo metus. Rimtai??? Va šitaip??? Ją visi turi perskaityti!!!” Tačiau dar nesu ragavus jo poezijos, taupausi.
Tad ėmiausi „Gimtosios Europos“ – lėtai, atsargiai, vis padėdama. Pradžioje nesupratau formato, ne iki galo pajutau ironiją. O jos, ironijos, knygoje upės. Plotos tokios, aštrios, kai kada sunkiai suprantamos. O kalba grakšti, melodinga. Ir ne visai tas variantas, kai autorius mėgaujasi savimi, ne.
Neskaičiusiam pirmiausia rekomenduočiau pasižiūrėti į pirmo leidimo metus. Kokius tris kartus. Tada – perskaityti Įžangą, o tada – Prierašą po kelių dešimtmečių. Tada – palikti knygą kelioms dienoms ir pagalvoti. Įsijausti į tai, kas perskaityta. „Jau vien tos lentos ir kai kurios raudonos šiek tiek nudilusios grindinio plytelės mane kažkam ruošė.“ (p. 11) Tuomet atsiversti turinį ir pamatyti, kad nors knygos pradžioje nurodyta „esė“, knygoje yra aštuoniolika skyrių. Tad ir duokite sau bent aštuoniolika vakarų, po kiekvieno leisdami iki galo pajusti kalbos grožio skonį. Ir skaityk ramiai. Tai ne autobiografija, nors chronologijos jausmas yra. Ne memuarai, nes kalbama labiau ne apie įvykius, o apie patirtas emocijas ir mintis. Palyginus mažai pavardžių, nors pabaigoje rasite asmenvardžių rodyklę. Dar kartą pažiūrėkit į pirmo leidimo metus ir įsiklausykit: „Vakarų žmonės mielai sklando iškilių žodžių apie dvasią ir laisvę danguje, tačiau retai užduoda sau paprastą klausimą: ar kitas turi pakankamai pinigų pietums.“ (p. 334). Vis dar, tik dabar prie jų jungiamės ir mes.
Knygoje daug vietų, kurias tuojau pat norisi perskaityti dar kam nors. Su kokia ironija jis rašo apie biurokrato darbą! „Tai profesija parazito, kuriam užmoka ne už tai, ką jis veikia, o už tai, kad nuo ryto iki vakaro sėdi viename ar kitame kambaryje, prie vieno ar kito stalo.“ (p.220) „Netrukus man kilo įtarimas, kad dauguma žmonių išsilaiko iš savo negarbingų profesijų, jausdami tai širdies gilumoje, ir stengiasi, karštligiškai veikdami, patys sau ir kitiems įrodyti, kad jeigu ne jie, žemės rutulys nustotų sukęsis.“ (221). O juk rašo apie save, aprašydamas savo kartėlį ir įniršį. Jauno, sieloje nesenstančio ir nenorinčio pasenti, žmogaus įniršį. O rašydamas apie kitus taip pat „į vatą nevynioja“.
Skyriai nevienodo ilgio ir svorio. Aš, ko gero, daugiausia mąsčiau po skyriaus „Katalikiškas auklėjimas“ apie du mokytojus – tikybos ir lotynų kalbos: „Pirmajame scenos plane stovėjo tik du galingi ir įtakingi individai, kovęsi tarp savęs dėl mūsų protų ir amžinai pasilikę su mumis, nepaisant laiko tėkmės.“ (p. 85)
Ko joje nėra? Kūniškumo. Na šiek tiek, nes juk užsimena apie dailės mokytoją, kuris mėgo liesti berniukus. Ir žodis „erotomanas“ nuskamba ne kartą. Bet tai tik mažutėlės detalės didžiuliame paveiksle, kur pagrindas – mintys. Malonu, ypač lyginant su dabar rašoma literatūra.
„Nesiimu spręsti, kiek čia aprašyti įvykiai yra tipiški kai kurioms Rytų Europos bendrijoms. Tačiau mus, lygindamas su ramių ir tvarkingų valstybių gyventojais, nepaisant visų nelaimių ir kančių, vienu atžvilgiu būčiau linkęs laikyti laimingesniais. Nei nauji automobilių modeliai, nei kelionės, nei meilės nuotykiai neteikia jaunystės eliksyro. Išplėšdami savo pramogų ir pasitenkinimo dalį užsitraukiame kerštą laiko, kuris atbukina mūsų pojūčių imlumą. O mes vis dėlto atradome, kad jaunystės eliksyras nėra chimera, ir tai todėl, kad žvilgtelėjome į mūsų amžiaus pragaro gelmę. Savo noru niekas tam nesiryžta.“ (p.342)
Net nežinau kada supratau, kad poetai – pavojingi žmonės. Matyt tada, kai susidomėjusi Francis Poulenc opera „Dialogues des Carmélites“ trumpai, bet aistringai susidomėjau 1789-1799 Prancūzų revoliucija. Tiksliau – Teroro laikotarpiu. Poetai visada pavojingi, o kartais net tampa reikalingais valdžioms, ypač specifiniais laikotarpiais – net nereikia toli eiti, savų turime. Ir net jeigu poetas netampa „paturėtas“, blogąja prasme, valdžios, jis pavojingas – jo juslės aštrios, žvilgsnis skrodžia kiaurai, o laiko pojūtis ypatingas. Jis pavojingas, nes priešinasi – esamybei, tradicijai, konformizmui.
Bet aš apie Milošą, su kuriuo pirma pažinti įvyko Kėdainių muziejuje. Laukdama kelionės kompaniono aš nuoširdžiai apžiūrėjau viską, ką mano manymu, reikėjo apžiūrėti Kėdainiuose. Žinot tuos įtartinus muziejų lankytojus, kurie lėtai ir nuodugniai apžiūrinėja ir perskaito viską muziejuje? Jie gan įprasti kai užklumpa lietus Sako, Palangos Gintaro muziejuje tokių būna daug – pati mačiau, per lietų. Tada, Kėdainiuose, net nelijo, o aš ėjau iš salės į salę, kol užėjau į vieną, skirtą Česlovui Milošui. Nustebau. Ne todėl, kad jis kilęs iš tų apylinkių, ne! Nustebau, kad yra tiek daug jo knygų, išverstų į lietuvių kalbą. Kažkiek net susigėdau. Pirmiausia paragavau „Isos slėnio“ ir padėjau ateičiai. Tada ėmiausi „Pavergto proto“ ir skaičiau šūkčiodama ir vis atsiversdama pažiūrėti į pirmo leidimo metus. Rimtai??? Va šitaip??? Ją visi turi perskaityti!!!” Tačiau dar nesu ragavus jo poezijos, taupausi.
Tad ėmiausi „Gimtosios Europos“ – lėtai, atsargiai, vis padėdama. Pradžioje nesupratau formato, ne iki galo pajutau ironiją. O jos, ironijos, knygoje upės. Plotos tokios, aštrios, kai kada sunkiai suprantamos. O kalba grakšti, melodinga. Ir ne visai tas variantas, kai autorius mėgaujasi savimi, ne.
Neskaičiusiam pirmiausia rekomenduočiau pasižiūrėti į pirmo leidimo metus. Kokius tris kartus. Tada – perskaityti Įžangą, o tada – Prierašą po kelių dešimtmečių. Tada – palikti knygą kelioms dienoms ir pagalvoti. Įsijausti į tai, kas perskaityta. „Jau vien tos lentos ir kai kurios raudonos šiek tiek nudilusios grindinio plytelės mane kažkam ruošė.“ (p. 11) Tuomet atsiversti turinį ir pamatyti, kad nors knygos pradžioje nurodyta „esė“, knygoje yra aštuoniolika skyrių. Tad ir duokite sau bent aštuoniolika vakarų, po kiekvieno leisdami iki galo pajusti kalbos grožio skonį. Ir skaityk ramiai. Tai ne autobiografija, nors chronologijos jausmas yra. Ne memuarai, nes kalbama labiau ne apie įvykius, o apie patirtas emocijas ir mintis. Palyginus mažai pavardžių, nors pabaigoje rasite asmenvardžių rodyklę. Dar kartą pažiūrėkit į pirmo leidimo metus ir įsiklausykit: „Vakarų žmonės mielai sklando iškilių žodžių apie dvasią ir laisvę danguje, tačiau retai užduoda sau paprastą klausimą: ar kitas turi pakankamai pinigų pietums.“ (p. 334). Vis dar, tik dabar prie jų jungiamės ir mes.
Knygoje daug vietų, kurias tuojau pat norisi perskaityti dar kam nors. Su kokia ironija jis rašo apie biurokrato darbą! „Tai profesija parazito, kuriam užmoka ne už tai, ką jis veikia, o už tai, kad nuo ryto iki vakaro sėdi viename ar kitame kambaryje, prie vieno ar kito stalo.“ (p.220) „Netrukus man kilo įtarimas, kad dauguma žmonių išsilaiko iš savo negarbingų profesijų, jausdami tai širdies gilumoje, ir stengiasi, karštligiškai veikdami, patys sau ir kitiems įrodyti, kad jeigu ne jie, žemės rutulys nustotų sukęsis.“ (221). O juk rašo apie save, aprašydamas savo kartėlį ir įniršį. Jauno, sieloje nesenstančio ir nenorinčio pasenti, žmogaus įniršį. O rašydamas apie kitus taip pat „į vatą nevynioja“.
Skyriai nevienodo ilgio ir svorio. Aš, ko gero, daugiausia mąsčiau po skyriaus „Katalikiškas auklėjimas“ apie du mokytojus – tikybos ir lotynų kalbos: „Pirmajame scenos plane stovėjo tik du galingi ir įtakingi individai, kovęsi tarp savęs dėl mūsų protų ir amžinai pasilikę su mumis, nepaisant laiko tėkmės.“ (p. 85)
Ko joje nėra? Kūniškumo. Na šiek tiek, nes juk užsimena apie dailės mokytoją, kuris mėgo liesti berniukus. Ir žodis „erotomanas“ nuskamba ne kartą. Bet tai tik mažutėlės detalės didžiuliame paveiksle, kur pagrindas – mintys. Malonu, ypač lyginant su dabar rašoma literatūra.
„Nesiimu spręsti, kiek čia aprašyti įvykiai yra tipiški kai kurioms Rytų Europos bendrijoms. Tačiau mus, lygindamas su ramių ir tvarkingų valstybių gyventojais, nepaisant visų nelaimių ir kančių, vienu atžvilgiu būčiau linkęs laikyti laimingesniais. Nei nauji automobilių modeliai, nei kelionės, nei meilės nuotykiai neteikia jaunystės eliksyro. Išplėšdami savo pramogų ir pasitenkinimo dalį užsitraukiame kerštą laiko, kuris atbukina mūsų pojūčių imlumą. O mes vis dėlto atradome, kad jaunystės eliksyras nėra chimera, ir tai todėl, kad žvilgtelėjome į mūsų amžiaus pragaro gelmę. Savo noru niekas tam nesiryžta.“ (p.342)
March 28, 2020
Dvejopą įspūdį palikusi Nobelio premijos laureato knyga. Iš pradžių labai įtraukė meniškas tekstas, šilti pasakojimai apie vaikystės ir jaunystės įspūdžius. Paskui tiesiog pavargau nuo nelabai ką sakančių asmeninių pažinčių, kai kada per daug pakylėto pasakojimo.
February 3, 2022
Fin skildring men vid tillfällen invecklat språk liksom vem fan vet vad axiom betyder, även om de ballt ord. Axiom, wow
Read
December 31, 2022Wstawki bio ciekawsze niż eseistyczne.
February 17, 2025
Prachtig, poëtisch en profetisch. En troostvol.
September 15, 2021
3.5
Milosz’s greatest gifts are his introspection and inclination towards ambiguity. As someone who grew up in the epicentre of some of the sinister happenings of the 20th century, I’m impressed by his admissions towards uncertainty, rejection of cynicism, and his acceptance of unknowns—both politically and personally. Boundlessly empathetic and wise I’m grateful to have read this work that would have almost certainly not been able to be published in his homeland during his time there. I feel like I learnt a lot about Eastern European culture; a culture that is too often sidelined or considered ersatz when compared to that of the West. In particular I enjoyed his discussions about the history of its extensive literary culture and his meditations on the value and celebration of artistry when divorced from money (something largely incongruent and incomparable with Western art and economic systems).
Admittedly, the final couple of chapters were a little bit of a slog and occasionally I wish he would speak more on some topics and less on others, but he certainly is a gifted writer.
I could reduce all that happened to me then to a few things. Lying in the field near the highway bombarded by airplanes, I riveted my eyes on a stone and two blades of grass in front of me. Listening to the whistle of a bomb, I suddenly understood the value of matter: that stone and those two blades of grass formed a whole kingdom, an infinity of forms, shades, textures, lights. They were the universe. I had always refused to accept the division into macro- and micro-cosmos; I preferred to contemplate a piece of bark or a bird’s wing rather than sunsets or sunrises. But now I saw into the depths of matter with exceptional intensity. (p. 204)
Milosz’s greatest gifts are his introspection and inclination towards ambiguity. As someone who grew up in the epicentre of some of the sinister happenings of the 20th century, I’m impressed by his admissions towards uncertainty, rejection of cynicism, and his acceptance of unknowns—both politically and personally. Boundlessly empathetic and wise I’m grateful to have read this work that would have almost certainly not been able to be published in his homeland during his time there. I feel like I learnt a lot about Eastern European culture; a culture that is too often sidelined or considered ersatz when compared to that of the West. In particular I enjoyed his discussions about the history of its extensive literary culture and his meditations on the value and celebration of artistry when divorced from money (something largely incongruent and incomparable with Western art and economic systems).
Admittedly, the final couple of chapters were a little bit of a slog and occasionally I wish he would speak more on some topics and less on others, but he certainly is a gifted writer.
I could reduce all that happened to me then to a few things. Lying in the field near the highway bombarded by airplanes, I riveted my eyes on a stone and two blades of grass in front of me. Listening to the whistle of a bomb, I suddenly understood the value of matter: that stone and those two blades of grass formed a whole kingdom, an infinity of forms, shades, textures, lights. They were the universe. I had always refused to accept the division into macro- and micro-cosmos; I preferred to contemplate a piece of bark or a bird’s wing rather than sunsets or sunrises. But now I saw into the depths of matter with exceptional intensity. (p. 204)
August 31, 2013
For me this was a five star reading experience. Although he might have preferred a less interesting life, he experienced first-hand some of the momentous events of the 20th century. Perhaps it was the influence of the dialectic, but for much of his life he seemed to be looking for a middle ground (a synthesis?) that perhaps didn't exist. Politically, he aligned himself with Marxism but philosophically he had reservations.
Although eventually defected from Communist Poland, he didn't wax nostalgic for 1930s Poland--too class bound and nationalistic for his taste. He enjoyed the personal freedom, he found in the west, but disliked the acquisitiveness of capitalism and its disregard for the humanities. He hated Soviet Communism and wasn't too fond of the progressives he met in the west.
He spent most of his last 50 years or so living in the west, much of it in the US. Unfortunately (for me at least), his memoir ends shortly after he leaves Poland, so we don't know (at least from reading Native Realm) whether his views of socialism and capitalism changed during this time.
Although eventually defected from Communist Poland, he didn't wax nostalgic for 1930s Poland--too class bound and nationalistic for his taste. He enjoyed the personal freedom, he found in the west, but disliked the acquisitiveness of capitalism and its disregard for the humanities. He hated Soviet Communism and wasn't too fond of the progressives he met in the west.
He spent most of his last 50 years or so living in the west, much of it in the US. Unfortunately (for me at least), his memoir ends shortly after he leaves Poland, so we don't know (at least from reading Native Realm) whether his views of socialism and capitalism changed during this time.
June 11, 2020
The author admits at the end that there may be some "harsh criticism" of his book, which is very sad but marred by his apparently endless absorption by himself. Milosz survived both World Wars and his insights are very great. He does not emphasize physical brutality but mental and emotional constrictions forced by Poland and Lithuania being taken over by a series of invaders. Milosz had the opportunity to travel to and even stay in the U.S., but after 4-1/2 years went back to Europe. The last two chapters focus on his friend, Tiger, who was broken after World War II by political censorship and control.
June 15, 2023
Het boek is een verzameling autobiografische schetsen van de beroemde Poolse dichter (die overigens ook veel proza schreef). Schetsen noem ik het, misschien niet terecht, maar ik kom erop omdat het niet slechts herinneringen aan gebeurtenissen uit zijn privé-leven betreft. Milosz schetst zijn leven vooral binnen het kader van historische gebeurtenissen en processen (Eerste en Tweede Wereldoorlog, oorlogen tussen Rusland en Polen, inlijving van de Baltische staten). Dat leidt er nogal eens toe dat hij wijdlopig schrijft over achtergronden betreffende kerk en staat. Bij deze stukken was het soms doorbijten. Maar toch biedt juist dit procedé intressante perspectieven. De rommelige geschiedenis van zijn geboorteland Litouwen bijvoorbeeld, stond voorheen niet zo op mijn netvlies.
Natuurlijk blijven er genoeg persoonlijke herinneringen over. En Milosz kent een taalgebruik dat mij meesleept. Lees bijvoorbeeld deze zin (0ver zijn katholieke opvoeding):
'Ik was niet gepredisponeerd atheïst te worden, want ik leefde onafgebroken in verwondering als voor een gordijn dat op een of andere dag wel opgetrokken móést worden' [p.93]. Een kernachtige uitspraak die mijns inziens zijn hele poëtica bevat. En over poëzie gesproken: in deze autobiografie rept Milosz daar eigenlijk niet eens zo veel over, al komt de lezer aan het eind van het boek wel opmerkingen tegen als: 'Toen ik later de poëzie koos, bleef ik de belofte die ik voor mezelf had afgelegd trouw: [...] dat ik door middel van de poëzie het kind in mij wilde redden' [p.291].
En: 'Alleen zij [de poëzie] is in de twintigste eeuw optimistisch, door haar vurigheid, voorspellen van verandering, haar dubbelzin, verdient de discipline alleen al geprezen te worden.' [p.299]
Zo leidt deze inposante biografie min of meer in de aansporing zelf ook poëzie te schrijven.
Natuurlijk blijven er genoeg persoonlijke herinneringen over. En Milosz kent een taalgebruik dat mij meesleept. Lees bijvoorbeeld deze zin (0ver zijn katholieke opvoeding):
'Ik was niet gepredisponeerd atheïst te worden, want ik leefde onafgebroken in verwondering als voor een gordijn dat op een of andere dag wel opgetrokken móést worden' [p.93]. Een kernachtige uitspraak die mijns inziens zijn hele poëtica bevat. En over poëzie gesproken: in deze autobiografie rept Milosz daar eigenlijk niet eens zo veel over, al komt de lezer aan het eind van het boek wel opmerkingen tegen als: 'Toen ik later de poëzie koos, bleef ik de belofte die ik voor mezelf had afgelegd trouw: [...] dat ik door middel van de poëzie het kind in mij wilde redden' [p.291].
En: 'Alleen zij [de poëzie] is in de twintigste eeuw optimistisch, door haar vurigheid, voorspellen van verandering, haar dubbelzin, verdient de discipline alleen al geprezen te worden.' [p.299]
Zo leidt deze inposante biografie min of meer in de aansporing zelf ook poëzie te schrijven.
November 6, 2024
En este libro Czesław Miłosz nos habla de la otra Europa, la del este. Más concretamente se centra en Polonia, Rusia, Bielorrusia y los países Bálticos. La zona donde nació, en la actual Lituania, se ha visto a lo largo de su vida afectada por numerosos cambios de manos y fronteras, la identidad personal y la nacionalidad de una persona es difícil de definir viviendo en un territorio multiétnico. Sin embargo, todos tienen que significarse y definirse, pues los niños son separados por culturas e idiomas, en distintos colegios y distintos destinos. Las guerras de la primera mitad del siglo XX eran imposibles de evitar en Polonia, en la Vilna de su infancia y en su París de adopción. Su familia se vio obligada a desplazarse varias veces, sus amigos luchaban por los gobiernos en que caían, la libertad era un bien escaso. Nos habla de sus estudios, conjuntados por sus tendencias ideológicas y su grupo de amigos, cada uno con un destino distinto. Un libro interesante en el que Miłosz se desnuda mentalmente y nos cuenta con calor fraternal sus más impactantes recuerdos.
October 31, 2021
Native Realm
Czeslaw Miłosz
There are many wonders of second-hand books. For instance, this copy of “Native Realm” came with a 1999 bookmark from Borders (may it rest well) hidden in the pages.
My history with Miłosz is a strange one. I ordered a collection of his several years ago and enjoyed reading some of it, but I was waylaid and didn’t finish (also his work is pretty heady and complex, but enough whining).
I came across this autobiography of sorts, read very positive reviews and thought this would be a good way to return to the world of his work.
What a rich and heavy read. Milosz is certainly one who doesn’t shy away from complexities and contradictions. In this book he wrestles with philosophy, religion, a person’s place in their own epoch, nationality, politics, and just about every topic one avoids at dinner with new acquaintances. He is honest and direct and gives the reader a real window into the 90+ years he lived in Europe and abroad.
Czeslaw Miłosz
There are many wonders of second-hand books. For instance, this copy of “Native Realm” came with a 1999 bookmark from Borders (may it rest well) hidden in the pages.
My history with Miłosz is a strange one. I ordered a collection of his several years ago and enjoyed reading some of it, but I was waylaid and didn’t finish (also his work is pretty heady and complex, but enough whining).
I came across this autobiography of sorts, read very positive reviews and thought this would be a good way to return to the world of his work.
What a rich and heavy read. Milosz is certainly one who doesn’t shy away from complexities and contradictions. In this book he wrestles with philosophy, religion, a person’s place in their own epoch, nationality, politics, and just about every topic one avoids at dinner with new acquaintances. He is honest and direct and gives the reader a real window into the 90+ years he lived in Europe and abroad.
February 13, 2020
This book will help, I think, readers to understand Milosz's poetry better. His life and consciousness were forged during the impossibly difficult decades of World Wars in Europe. He is remarkably aware of how his roots in the countryside of Lithuania (and Catholicism), the experience of clashes between Polish and Russian cultures, and the complex maneuvering between the totalitarianism of Fascism and the authoritarianism of Stalinism formed his approach to writing poetry and negotiating his place in the world.
March 26, 2022
Wow. I have never struggled so much with a book in my whole life. I had an incredibly difficult time understanding what the hell the author was trying to say. The syntax and vocabulary was rough for me. If I wasn’t obligated to finish because of book club I wouldn’t have. All that said, I think I just wasn’t smart enough for this book because I believe that for the right person it is very well written and of value. I was just not the right person.
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