En esta colección de “cuentos oscuros”, Shūji Terayama cose con el hilo rojo del título retazos de desamor y de soledad, de accidentes y de decepciones. Y lo hace desde un realismo mágico muy personal, en ocasiones copiando o parodiando el estilo de los clásicos cuentos de hadas.
En “El hilo rojo que une el abandono”(1978) encontramos pájaros que hablan como humanos, humanos que hablan como pájaros, tijeras mágicas, lazos embrujados, clínicas experimentales, tiendas extrañas, juegos que acaban mal y sobre todo amantes trágicos y personajes incomprendidos, en una colección de cuentos que se resiste a que sus protagonistas sean felices y coman perdices.
“Presentados como inocentes cuentos, las historias de El hilo rojo que une el abandono tejen lo real y lo imaginado. Los personajes de Terayama se embarcan en una aparentemente tradicional búsqueda del amor, pero siempre terminan en situaciones perturbadoras e increíbles.”
Shūji Terayama nació el 10 de diciembre de 1935 en Aomori (Japón) y murió el 4 de mayo de 1983 en Tokio (Japón). Fue un artista polifacético y miembro prominente del underground cultural japonés de los 60 y 70, en un punto intermedio entre Yukio Mishima y Les Rallizes Denudés. En sus 47 años de vida, y aproximadamente 30 años de carrera como escritor, cineasta, poeta, fotógrafo, músico y dramaturgo, publicó más de veinte libros, estrenó unas quince obras de teatro y rodó ocho películas. Es por esta última faceta por la que más se le conoce en Occidente, gracias a títulos como “Pastoral” o “Emperor Tomato Ketchup”, mientras que en Japón es reconocido sobre todo como poeta. “El hilo rojo que une el abandono” (1978) es su primer título publicado en castellano.
Shūji Terayama (寺山 修司, December 10, 1935 – May 4, 1983) was a Japanese avant-garde poet, dramatist, writer, film director, and photographer. His works range from radio drama, experimental television, underground (Angura) theatre, countercultural essays, to Japanese New Wave and "expanded" cinema.
I have been hearing (and seeing) the works of Shoji Terayama for the past 25 years. Hearing, not reading minds you, because his writings were not translated into English till very recently. Although I have seen his films, both in Japan as well as on YouTube - till now, I have never read a work of fiction by Terayama. Shoji Terayama is a combination of Jean Cocteau, Fellini, with a big side dish of Artaud. He's very much the main figure in avant-garde Japan circa. Years the late 1960s to the 1970s. With the production of his plays (he had his own theater group), he attracted the best in Japanese underground rock as well as iconic graphic artists, who designed his sets and posters. "The Crimson Thread of Abandon" is a collection of stories that read like fairy tales - but European style - more Grimm brothers than say a horror Japanese story. In some cases he reminds me of Edogawa Rampo, but I think his major influences are all Europeans - mostly French. Nevertheless Terayama is a major post-war genius, and finally we have some proof of his work in English, courtesy of the translator Elizabeth L. Armstrong.
Each story in this volume is a fairy tale of sorts - with a twisted ending. What is noteworthy is that he used a lot of French references through these works - either authors, or even French movie stars/singers. The issue of identity pretty much runs through the narrative, and all, end in a very horrific manner. This is only the a part of the Terayama world. More will come out, including his essays, more stories, poems, plays, and of course his films. A major artist in Japan, and I think throughout the world.
These were very different than my expectations in some ways, however they of course remain a very small portion of Terayama's corpus of works. Here's hoping we see more translations soon! But yes, these are most distinct in how little attention to Japanese tradition they show. They are utterly Francophilic in nature. I'm also surprised at the relative lack of sexual and otherwise shocking, provocative content. These are more Fruits of Passion than Emperor Tomato Ketchup; tragical magical realist bits of narrative wrapped up as neat little fairy tales with occasional Borgesian experiments in space and time, but soaked in the kitsch of 60s pop art, as is characteristic of Terayama. They are quite addictive and delightful, and their seemingly simple appearances contain a lot of room for pondering and speculation.
If Izumi Suzuki is the Philip K Dick of Japanese counterculture film personalities turned short story writers, then Terayama is the Leonora Carrington. If that makes sense.
Shuji Terayama has written an excellent, absurdist collection of 'adult fairytales'. It's a fascinating style of writing, because it seems to be tragic and sad with every ending, but is also at the same time peppered with dark humor and a lighthearted mood of the writer, who casually breaks the narration wall by switching to 'I' on a whim, with no explanation whatsoever.
While I found each story very sad, they were also somewhat uplifting, because within each one there were so many moments of increased appreciation for the things we take for granted, such as in "Flame", where an entire town suddenly cannot start fires and begin to realize their own personal flames were also unlit as well.
This 'sardonic silliness', as one might call it, is bitter then sweet: it is a bit of a mood killer at first, but with the right outlook—at least, from my point of view—each tragic tale can enhance the tastes and views and everything we experience within our lives. This is through seeing just how easily, cruelly, and absurdly—without reason or rhyme—the things we appreciate or want can ruin us or be taken away. And within that lens, Terayama manages to uplift the reader through sharing his own pain and fear of abandonment by his mother, aching to know his dead father (who died when he was 9 year old), and longing for siblings he never got to grow up with. Knowing that, beneath these absurdities, he is someone with a childish heart who perhaps wants to purge his pain, but also share it with his reader through common-place situations of loss, veiled by ironic allegories and wild fantasy.
creo que este es el libro mas importante de mi vida hasta ahora. tengo el corazon completamente roto en su reconstruccion ya que por fin he decidido terminarlo. y si, si tardé dos años en leerlo completo porque no queria que se acabara. ahora hago eso con todo lo que me gusta mucho: alargar su estancia en mi vida porque no quiero que se acabe aunque sepa que puedo volver a ello cuando guste. no es lo mismo. una primera vez siempre es y deja de ser, es un imposible. no puedo describir lo mucho que ha impactado este libro en mis pensamientos, en mis relaciones, en el proceso creativo, en los enredos del amor, en mi intento por amar aun teniendo el corazon roto, en las preguntas frente a la fantasía llamada vida, en aceptar que tu ya no estas y que este libro terminó sin ti aunque comenzó contigo. alargué su primera estancia en mi todo lo que pude, pero desde hace un tiempo decidí que ya era hora de soltar ese peso, de cortar el hilo, de guardarse unas cuantas palabras indeleblemente en la mente y dejar de cargarlas en el bolso. agradezco profundamente a cada persona que se detuvo por un instante a leer alguno de estos relatos conmigo, gracias por hacer parte también de esa excusa para-que-nunca-acabe-lo-amado, para que el borrador se destruya tranquilo. ,,,., esta reseña no acaba,,,,,,
"Consultó con magos y con hechiceros, contrató a detectives para encontrar su lenguaje perdido, empleó una bomba de aire para suministrarle una masiva infusión de palabras y la llevó al doctor Mabuse para que le diera lecciones de vocalización. Cuando Don descubrió que su hija hablaba en sueños, pero no durante la vigilia, pensó en someterla a una operación que cambiara sueños por realidad. También rezó oraciones por ella durante mil noches de Arabia.
Finalmente le fue concedida una milagrosa oportunidad: Saki podría hablar, pero solo tres palabras.
El padre y la hija se abrazaron y lloraron juntos. Abrumada de alegría, Saki esclamó:
The stories themselves are very unique and very true to Terayama's aesthetic and style. However, the translation seemed a little off at times. I found several grammar mistakes throughout the text, and the parts in French were clearly mistranslated into English (French is my mother tongue). The translation didn't completely ruin this book for me, though.
big time lover of Terayama, mostly through his movies but I'm familiar with a number of his efforts in other fields too. a joy to have a copy of his stories on my shelf. unfortunately not quite as head over heels for this as I am the rest of his body of work, but it's, at the bare minimum, very interesting all the same. hesitating to call this cynical, but these downbeat spins on adult fairytales have a sharp sense of wit and carry a great humour with them too. lots of wordplay that still feels authentic in translation. at least I have to assume, anyways. ultimately a little too light in both content and form to be as amazing as I know it could be, and is perhaps burdened by its conceit rather than being legitimate short stories*... and maybe it's also on me and feeling fatigued for not liking it more; but its charm is inescapable from start to finish. a taster of what Terayama had to offer, but he's long been someone so inherently suited to cinema anyways that I'm not surprised that the written page (a translated one at that) isn't the best work he ever produced.
This book holds the answers to many perplexing questions I have in life, like: -What is the ultimate no-no thing to do? Why of course, picking up a yellow ribbon -Which shop should I go if I have some money to spare? Although sometime they overcharge, the antique shop is your best bet -If I can only keep one thing as my possession, what should I choose? No doubt, an eraser -What should I do if my shadow got wrinkled? The dry cleaner will iron it for you, da!
It even has the spoiler of Eco's The Name of the Rose. What else do you need?
Reading this book sometimes feel like remembering something. Was it a dream or was it real? Walking the fine line between them was actually fun.
i’m a bit stuck on this rating because it varies for different stories. there were a bunch that were variations on “the gift of the magi,” which i thought was interesting, but one of those ended up being my favorites (“one-centimeter journey”). my other favorite was “ribbon of the sea.” i thought the later stories were confusing in a weird way and am still not sure whether terayama just had a tendency to reuse names or if the characters in these separate short stories are disconnected. ultimately i’ll give this 3 stars because it was thematically interesting and cool to read, and i’m trying not to let the last few influence my overall rating.
Cool nok, historierne i slutningen var lowkey lidt wack, og jeg fuldte ikke helt med en gang i mellem, så jeg skulle læse ting om, men de første 70-80% er ret dope. Jeg kan godt lide hvordan han tager alle de her små eventyrs træk og vender dem helt på hovedet, og gør det til en slags grotesk form for eventyr. Ligesom hans film kan jeg godt lide det meget "børne-agtige" i dem, miksede med nogle lidt mere voksenlige ting. Jeg er dog ret overrasket, som andre anmeldelser også har rørt på, over et stort mangel på seksualitet, noget der altid er præserende i nærmest alle hans andre værker.
I'm trying to put my finger on what particular brand of surrealism he's using here. These read like dreams. Fables of a demented person. Rather simple metaphors that commit to their abandon of "logic" to tell a story as it is impressed. I'm trying to figure out what to call it because it's how I write, too.
Fantastic. I am so glad to get the chance to read these stories. I was only recently introduced to the work of Terayama Shuji during one of my last trips to Japan by Rose, and now I am excited to devour whatever I can get my hands on. But I didn't know where to begin, given the sheer breadth of his work. So when I saw one book was translated into English, I decided to start there. Of course now I have to go back and find more from the wrong side of the Pacific… But it will happen.
I find it very interesting of myself that I am so willing to read things that don't really fully make sense or are never fully explained when it is this genre, but in other books I get so irritated when the littlest thing is not fully developed. Oh well. That said, the final two got a little too much for me, with the changing perspectives happening at the speed of light and never really being sure who said what or even what was happening. I feel like these ones are just about the atmosphere. Which is OK, but not quite as much to my liking.
I did think that some of these were amazing, and I saw a lot of opportunity for inspiration being drawn from these by other modern Japanese writers. In particular, I feel like 1Q84 must have gotten some kind of inspiration from the story "Alice in Shadowland".
I adore the voice in this very much. I absolutely must acquire more Terayama. In addition, the translation is very elegant, and impressive for apparently a first publication by Elizabeth Armstrong. I felt she did a good job of capturing the voice, and her attempts to maintain the wordplay and write poems in English to mimic the original were surprisingly effective (with the one exception of the final sentence of the loon which felt surprisingly like a dad joke).