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I settled down to reacquaint myself with Canetti and, like a reunion with an old friend, I was overjoyed to rediscover his warmth, his wit, and his searing intellect. For such a clever man, though, Canetti is still aware he has a reading public eager to hear tales of the famous names, with whom he rubbed shoulders during his very brief time in Berlin. To learn that the great George Grosz was indeed a misogynist and Brecht a slave to fashion gave me that wry smile that I remembered from reading Canetti before.
For anyone wanting to gain a really deep insight into Central Europe in the 1920's and 30's, this is the book to read and not the titillating, ever-so-British accounts of Christopher Isherwood.
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The kaliedoscopic journey for the reader includes a vast range of topics from Australian aborigines,pueblo indians, jivaro indians, etruscans to ants, monkeys, kangaroos to Islam, Christianity, Judaism.
Some aspects of this book might sound unbelievable( like laughing being a substitute for eating..I believe it though)...but I can only quote what Blake wrote in 'Proverbs from Heaven and Hell' -
"There is no truth that can be understood and not be believed".
Read this book. It could be one of the most important things you might be doing in your life.
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precise, and most of all beautiful, Canetti explores in shorter form much of his philosopical world.
The collection of essays, Das Gewissen der Woerter, is also a great place to enter the world of Elias Canetti. Each essay is a gem that once you set your eyes on you can not let go of until having digested it in entirety.
When I first began this book it was 10 minutes before I was to meet a friend for lunch. After reading the first paragraph, I was hooked. I ended up missing my lunch date and it was worth it.
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It's a most fascinating and eclectic collection of thoughts and profound observations. I have never put the book down with the same vision as I picked it up.
During the late 70's and early 80's, between 15,000 and 30,000 people were kidnapped, tortured and murdered in the name of "National Security" under the worst military dictatorship in Argentina's history. These people were 99% innocent civilians considered dissidents by the military, paramilitary, and the police.
How can such thing happen? Think of it as a kind of a go-amok witch-hunt. Something akin to the US McCartheism during the 50's, except the coutry is not a democracy, rule of law is virtually non-existent and instead of losing your job for thinking in a certain way, you (and in many cases all your family) lose your life.
In 1983, after democracy was restored in the coutry (following Argentina's rout in the Falklands War) the newly elected democratic government led by Raul Alfonsin appointed a national commission to investigate the mass disappearances.
This book, the published work of that commission, is the authoritative source on the tragic events. It is based on the 50,000 pages of original testimonies of families and survivors given before the commission.
It includes a Prologue by the chair of the commission, Ernesto Sabato and a terrifying yet revealing introduction by Ronald Dworkin.
As proven over and over throughout history, such unbelievable things can happen anywhere and those who do not learn from history are bound to repeat it. Those who care should do themselves a favor and read this book so tragedies such as this one, the blackest period in Argentina's history, would never happen again.
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ps
Even with his fascination with the "crowd" one feels that deep down he never belonged to any.And good for him...:)
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People, stay away. This may be the worst book ever published. I say that after careful thought; this cannot be dismissed as shallow dark-and-stormy-night-ery, formulaic flatulence, or pathetic poetastery - it is bad on a much larger scale. It is a truly monumental combination of mean-spirited misogyny, flimsy characterization, dumb Dumb DUMB dialogue, and story line stolen from a whiny junior high school diary. To this day I cannot imagine why I stayed with it to the end, and regret having done so. If you are currently in the middle of this book, STOP NOW - don't throw good brain cells after bad.
It has occurred to me that Auto-da-fe is perhaps a bold experiment aimed at exploring the boundaries of literature - can one write a good novel without believable plot, engaging characters, human sympathy, or readable language? The answer is "no".
Perhaps the translation is at fault - perhaps the original is merely a badly written, pretentious, over-wrought mistake with maybe even a redeeming feature or two. In this case, the translation ought to be an object of careful study in the world's academies of translation technique (do such exist?) as an example of How Not To Do It.
Another thing I regret is that when I purged this malignant tumour of a novel from my shelves, I took the cowardly and unprincipled action of donating it to a charity book bazaar rather than consigning it to a dumpster; I expect St. Pete to have a few words for me on this subject when I show up at the pearly gates...
He is forced out of his secure environment into the fear of the city.
Canetti wrote the novel after seeing the University of Vienna in flames. He saw a man outside the university, unconcerned for those burning inside, crying "my papers, my papers". He saw Peter Kien. He saw humanity, civilisation.
After this, the most astonishing of novels, he concerned himself with the study of crowds and the politics of crowds.
On Brecht he said, "an overbearing man!"
My favorite book.
(PS. English is not my first language so please excuse whatever you don't like about my writing.)