Download Book ↠ Jada̜c do Babadag Å 285 pages Þ Andrzej stasiuk

Epub Jada̜c do Babadag

Download Book ↠ Jada̜c do Babadag Å 285 pages Þ Andrzej stasiuk ¼ [Reading] ➻ Jada̜c do Babadag Author Andrzej Stasiuk – De literaire reportages van Andrzej Stasiuk uit Albanië Moldavië Roemenië Oekraïne Hongarije en Slowakije lezen als scenes uit fDe literaire reportages van Andrzej Stasiuk uit Albanië Moldavië Roemenië Jada̜c do PDFEPUBOekraïne Hongarije en Slowakije lezen als scenes uit films van Buñuel of FelliniEen kudde koeien op een weg achter Oradea schapen in een straat in een wijk van Satu Mare een schimmel die midden in Suceava in de wei staat – het smerigste verst afgelegen dee 'On the Road to Babadag' won all possible awards in Poland and for a while it was all everybody was reading and talking about So imagine my disappointment when I started reading it and all I wanted to do was to hurl it against the wall It’s because I thought this would be a travel book I thought Stasiuk would leave some small town in Poland and go through Slovakia Hungary Ukraine Moldova Serbia Albania Bulgaria etc until finally he would reach Babadag Romania where the book would end It is called On the Road to Babadag Travels in the Other Europe after all So what else should I expect I thought Stasiuk would tell me some funny anecdotes I expected some musing over the cultural differences between here and there I thought it would be like Michael Palin’s New Europe only written from a perspective of someone actually from that ‘New Europe’It is not really like that at all This book is just pure poetry and you have to accept that to be able to read it As soon as you do you will embark on a journey that’s one of a kind Stasiuk’s accounts of his travels are non linear context free often confusing full of ‘maybes’ and ‘perhaps’ but what they never lack of is beauty Even if he is fixated on the subject of animal excrement he produces the most lyrical description of cow’s shit Travelling for Stasiuk is not caused by the typical wanderlust It’s of a strong urge to be in the ‘here and now’ He writes when describing a trip he took in Poland before the borders opened “I had no passport then of course but it never entered my head to try to get one The connection between those two words freedom and passport sounded grand enough but was completely unconvincing The nuts and bolts of passport didn’t fit freedom at all It’s possible that there outside Gorzów my mind had fixed on the formula There’s freedom or there isn’t period My country suited me just fine because its borders didn’t concern me I lived inside it in the centre and that centre went where I went”This obsession with here and now is obvious throughout the book because Stasiuk’s descriptions are often careless when it comes to detail and context He disarmingly admits he doesn’t remember where this happened or when or whether it happened at all He can only offer a collection of impressions smells sounds and sights maybe a nameless person here and there some sliver of a dialogueHe stays clear of big cities and famous landmarks He explores the backwater and laments its disappearance He does get high on poverty and destitution You almost get the impression he is offended by every new ATM or internet café which sprouts up in the villages he so fondly remembered to be completely free of any 21st century influence He wouldn’t be the first and won’t be the last travel writer to fetishise backwardness We have to forgive him for that because he writes it all so beauitifully “At the same hour in that same dying light cattle were coming home from Kiev say to Split from my Rozpucie to Skopje and the same in Stara Zagora Scenery and architecture may change and the breed and the curve of horn or the colour of mane but the picture remains untouched between two rows of houses moved a herd sated cattle They were accompanied by women in kerchiefs and worn boots or by children No isolated island of industrialization no sleepless metropolis no spiderweb of roads or railroad lines could block out this image as old as the world The human joined with the bestial to wait out the night together”'On the Road to Babadag' is a lyrical journey through the provinces of Europe and through its subconscious To Stasiuk that Europe is all that there is that’s the centre of his universe it’s where the heart of Europe beats Thanks to that we are spared witty jibes and superfluous comparisons between East and West

Andrzej Stasiuk å Jada̜c do Babadag Kindle

L van ons continent wordt bevolkt door dieren In de wegroestende pakhuizen in de schaduw van enorme schoorstenen tussen schommelende vrachtwagens knabbelen zij aan het vergiftigde gras zonder spoor van angst of interesse Alsof ze daar al sinds de oertijd grazenNa zijn terugkeer kan hij nauwelijks geloven dat hij werkelijk daar was en niet alles heeft ged Seemed like a 10 page essay that became a 250 page book through repetition repetition and repetition This is a po mo travel book travel without identifying context just an endless list of Eastern European place names obscure enough to make you feel at first ashamed of your own ignorance and finally simply annoyed at the repeated refusal to communicate anything that would help us place these places Travel that loses any purpose bc all the places are the same simply names The sense of poverty decay and stasis comes through loud and clear but little else does the narrator fetishizes his own imprecision and inability to remember which on the page becomes frustrating vagueness and for me at least an inability to care about what he's saying The occasional hallucinatorily brilliant vignette the pool party for Romania's jeunesse doree as seen through the eyes of the local filthy feral pig farmer tells you that there was a conventionally fascinating travel book to be had here if only Stasiuk weren't far too cool to write it As it was I forced myself barely to finish

Ebook ñ Jada̜c do Babadag å Andrzej Stasiuk

Jada̜c do BabadagRoomdEen van de oorden tussen de Oostzee en de Zwarte Zee waar Stasiuk doorheen reist heet Babadag Het is een voorbeeld van zo'n 'zwakke plaats' die verdwijnt zodra men zijn blik afwendt De paniek vliegt de bewoners aan – de plaats zou zomaar kunnen ophouden te bestaan als ze niet zouden worden beschreven Uit deze angst is Stasiuks nieuwe boek ontstaan If you enjoy reading about crumbling stucco peeling paintwork places forgotten by time and the outside world the backwaters of Eastern Europe and the Balkans byways hidden by mist melancholia ferries to nowhere drinking in forlorn bars decay the detritus of post communism village suares overgrown with untended trees and sleepy border crossings then this might be the book for you All of these things and others dealt with by the Stasiuk the author fascinate me but somehow his book did not grab my attention as tightly as I hoped that it wouldIs Stasiuk’s writing poetry or is it prose that is on the point of becoming poetry Or is it an almost meaningless ramble of words trying to evoke the meaning of memory Whatever it is one must take one’s hat off to the translator whose task of bringing this text from Polish into English must have been difficult And what a ramble this is Stasiuk’s memories drift from one place to another often without any discernible geographic logic The exceptions are the chapters on Albania and Moldovar which I enjoyed most Even if this book is not my favourite it certainly captures the decaying atmosphere of the lesser visited corners of Eastern and South Eastern Europe places that time and the outside world almost neglect Every now and then Stasiuk makes reference to the Romanian writer Emil Cioran 1911 1995 whom I had never heard of before According to an article in Wikipedia many of his works express torment pessimism and a tragic sense of history These are some of the aspects of the places that fascinate Stasiuk although I felt that he conveys a far optimistic appraisal of the forgotten corners of the fringes of Europe that he visited This book was recommended to me by a friend Would I recommend it I am not sure If you can read fast which I cannot then give it a try If you are a slow reader then give it a missI have rated this book 3 stars but I would have liked to have been able to award it say 275 I almost liked it but not uite Maybe the geographic confusion was a little too much for me I would have preferred a slightly linear set of journeys However as a a literary evocation of the randomness of the memory process the author has succeeded If you enjoy the works of WG Sebald then it is likely that this book by Stasiuk will be up your street