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The Invention of Morel
Jorge Luis Borges declared The Invention of Morel a masterpiece of plotting, comparable to The Turn of The Screw and Journey to the Center of the Earth. Set on a mysterious island, Bioy’s novella is a story of suspense and exploration, as well as a wonderfully unlikely romance, in which every detail is at once crystal clear and deeply mysterious.
Inspired by Bioy Casares’s fascination with the movie star Louise Brooks, The Invention of Morel has gone on to live a secret life of its own. Greatly admired by Julio Cortázar, Gabriel García Márquez, and Octavio Paz, the novella helped to usher in Latin American fiction’s now famous postwar boom. As the model for Alain Resnais and Alain Robbe-Grillet’s Last Year at Marienbad, it also changed the history of film.
Inspired by Bioy Casares’s fascination with the movie star Louise Brooks, The Invention of Morel has gone on to live a secret life of its own. Greatly admired by Julio Cortázar, Gabriel García Márquez, and Octavio Paz, the novella helped to usher in Latin American fiction’s now famous postwar boom. As the model for Alain Resnais and Alain Robbe-Grillet’s Last Year at Marienbad, it also changed the history of film.
103 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1940
About the author
Adolfo Bioy Casares
220 books778 followersAdolfo Vicente Perfecto Bioy Casares (1914-1999) was born in Buenos Aires, the child of wealthy parents. He began to write in the early Thirties, and his stories appeared in the influential magazine Sur, through which he met his wife, the painter and writer Silvina Ocampo, as well Jorge Luis Borges, who was to become his mentor, friend, and collaborator. In 1940, after writing several novice works, Bioy published the novella The Invention of Morel, the first of his books to satisfy him, and the first in which he hit his characteristic note of uncanny and unexpectedly harrowing humor. Later publications include stories and novels, among them A Plan for Escape, A Dream of Heroes, and Asleep in the Sun. Bioy also collaborated with Borges on an Anthology of Fantastic Literature and a series of satirical sketches written under the pseudonym of H. Bustos Domecq.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,848 reviews
April 12, 2024
OUTSTANDING!
A fugitive man arrives to a mysterious island around Polynesia, and deeply falls in love at first sight with a beautiful lovely lady, Faustine. But there’s something wrong, she doesn’t seem to notice or care about anything he does or says; in fact, everyone on the island completely ignores him. They all seem to be in some sort of trance. How can that be? Is everyone bewitched, or is he?
An unforgettable little novella worth its weight in gold. Marvelous conception, extraordinary captivating delivery, and a mind blowing ending. I wish I could say more but anything else may possibly spoil it so I’m just going to keep my mouth shut and let you all discover it by yourselves. You can thank me later.
My memory isa bit a lot hazy but I’m positive I read this sometime in school, and one of those few exceptions of forced reading where I actually didn’t hate it. This amazing little story has stuck with me for decades ever since, and never likely to go away. A novel that even Garcia Marquez, Borges and Cortazar, among others, declared a masterpiece. So you know, you don’t even need to take my word for it. Highly Recommendable!
-----------------------------------------------
PERSONAL NOTE :
[1940] [103p] [Fiction] [4.5] [Highly Recommendable]
-----------------------------------------------
★★★★☆ The Invention of Morel [4.5]
★★★☆☆ Historias desaforadas [2.5]
★★☆☆☆ Breve diccionario del argentino exquisito [2.5]
★★☆☆☆ El lado de la sombra [1.5]
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¡INCREIBLE!
Un hombre fugitivo llega a una misteriosa isla cerca de la Polinesia, y se enamora perdidamente a primera vista de una hermosa y adorable señorita, Faustine. Pero algo está mal, ella no parece notar o importarle nada de lo que él dice o hace; de hecho, todos en la isla parecen ignorarlo completamente. Todos parecen estar bajo una especie de trance. ¿Cómo puede ser posible? ¿Están todos embrujados, o él?
Una inolvidable novela corta que vale su peso en oro. Fantástica concepción, extraordinariamente cautivadora narración, y un final que vuela la mente. Desearía poder decir más pero cualquier otra cosa que diga posiblemente podría estropearlo así que sólo voy a mantener mi boca cerrada y dejar que ustedes lo descubran por sí solos. Pueden agradecerme después.
Mi memoria esun poco muy confusa pero estoy casi seguro que leí esto en algún momento en el colegio, y una de muy contadas excepciones en que no odié esa lectura forzada. Esta genial pequeña historia ha permanecido conmigo por décadas desde entonces, y muy probable que nunca me abandone. Una novela que incluso García Márquez, Borges y Cortázar, entre otros, declararon una obra maestra. Así que ya saben, ni siquiera tienen que confiar en mi palabra sobre eso. ¡Altamente Recomendable!
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NOTA PERSONAL :
[1940] [103p] [Ficción] [4.5] [Altamente Recomendable]
-----------------------------------------------
A fugitive man arrives to a mysterious island around Polynesia, and deeply falls in love at first sight with a beautiful lovely lady, Faustine. But there’s something wrong, she doesn’t seem to notice or care about anything he does or says; in fact, everyone on the island completely ignores him. They all seem to be in some sort of trance. How can that be? Is everyone bewitched, or is he?
An unforgettable little novella worth its weight in gold. Marvelous conception, extraordinary captivating delivery, and a mind blowing ending. I wish I could say more but anything else may possibly spoil it so I’m just going to keep my mouth shut and let you all discover it by yourselves. You can thank me later.
My memory is
-----------------------------------------------
PERSONAL NOTE :
[1940] [103p] [Fiction] [4.5] [Highly Recommendable]
-----------------------------------------------
★★★★☆ The Invention of Morel [4.5]
★★★☆☆ Historias desaforadas [2.5]
★★☆☆☆ Breve diccionario del argentino exquisito [2.5]
★★☆☆☆ El lado de la sombra [1.5]
-----------------------------------------------
¡INCREIBLE!
Un hombre fugitivo llega a una misteriosa isla cerca de la Polinesia, y se enamora perdidamente a primera vista de una hermosa y adorable señorita, Faustine. Pero algo está mal, ella no parece notar o importarle nada de lo que él dice o hace; de hecho, todos en la isla parecen ignorarlo completamente. Todos parecen estar bajo una especie de trance. ¿Cómo puede ser posible? ¿Están todos embrujados, o él?
Una inolvidable novela corta que vale su peso en oro. Fantástica concepción, extraordinariamente cautivadora narración, y un final que vuela la mente. Desearía poder decir más pero cualquier otra cosa que diga posiblemente podría estropearlo así que sólo voy a mantener mi boca cerrada y dejar que ustedes lo descubran por sí solos. Pueden agradecerme después.
Mi memoria es
-----------------------------------------------
NOTA PERSONAL :
[1940] [103p] [Ficción] [4.5] [Altamente Recomendable]
-----------------------------------------------
September 8, 2022
The Invention of Morel was adjudged a perfect work by Jorge Luis Borges, the author’s mentor/friend/frequent collaborator. Anybody familiar with the essays and short fiction of Borges can appreciate what it means for one of the great masters of world literature to make such a pronouncement. Perhaps Borges’ appraisal reflects, in part, how Adolfo Bioy Casares shares much of his own aesthetic and literary sensibilities since, after all, they collaborated on twelve books.
More specifically, here are some obvious similarities between the writing of the two authors:
• The Invention of Morel is only one hundred pages, not too much longer than a number of Borges’s longer tales.
• Similar to stories like The Circular Ruin, The Aleph and many other Borges tales, The Invention of Morel deals with multiple levels of so called reality.
• The language and writing is elegant. Bloy Casares' short novel is akin to Borges' writing in Doctor Brodie’s Report and The Book of Sand, where Borges let go of his more ornate, baroque style.
SPOILER WARNING - This is a short novel. You might want to read my review AFTER you've read the book.
Anyway, for the purpose of this review, I will take a specific focus: the relationship between the novel and the author’s and our own experience of film and television.
The 1920s were the heyday of silent films. The first commercially successful sound film, The Jazz Singer, was released in 1929. Black and White 1940s TV was as raw as raw can be – just look at those 1949 TV shows on You Tube. In 1940, the year of publication for The Invention of Morel, ideas about what would become TV where "in the air"; what really had a grip on people’s imagination in the 1920s and 1930s was film, first silent film then film with sound.
So, one can imagine a sensitive, imaginative literary artist like Adolfo Bioy Casares (born 1914) experiencing silent film in the 1920s as a boy and then sound films as a teenager and young man. One thing that makes The Invention of Morel so compelling is just how much of what the narrator and others in the novel experience is parallel to a world saturated with films and TV.
Below are a number of quotes from the novel coupled with my reflections:
“They are at the top of the hill, while I am far below. From here they look like a race of giants .” (page 12) ---------- Darn, if this wasn’t my exact experience when I went to my first movie. I was so overwhelmed by the race of giants ‘up there’ on the screen, I fled from the theater minutes after the movie started.
“I saw the same room duplicated eight times in eight directions as if it were reflected in mirror.” (page 18) ---------- Again, darn. I recall my almost disbelief when, as a kid, I saw the same image repeated a dozen times when I first saw all those TVs turned to the same station in a department store. There was something freaky about the exact movement and image repeated on all those sets.
“I went back to see her the next afternoon, and the next. She was there, and her presence began to take on the quality of a miracle.” (page 25) ---------- How many teenagers, young men and women and even older adults have fallen in love with a movie star and go back to the movies to see their loved one the next night and the next?
“Words and movements of Faustine and the bearded man coincided with those of a week ago. The atrocious eternal return.” (page 41) ---------- In a way, isn’t that the world of movies – the same exact people doing exactly the same thing night after night up there on the screen. Live theater doesn't even come close to the movie’s eternal return.
“Horrified by Faustine, who was so close to me, actually might be on another planet.” (page 53) ---------- How many men and women who have fallen in love with a star in a film or a TV show where they are so close they can press their hands against the star’s face (the TV screen) come to realize their emotions and feelings are for a being a universe away, far beyond their actual touch?
““Tea for Two” and “Valencia” persisted until after dawn.” (page 62) ---------- Most appropriate! Films and TV thrive on easy-to-remember songs and jingles.
“I began to search for waves and vibrations that had previously been unattainable, to devise instruments to receive and transmit them.” (page 69). ---------- It is as if the author tuned into the collective unconscious desire in 1940 to expand film in different ways, one way being what would become TV.
“ I was certain that my images of persons would lack consciousness of themselves (like the characters in a motion picture).” (page 70) ---------- This is part of a nearly four pages of Morel's internal dialogue. There is a lot here. One reflection: how many people have sacrificed their flesh-and-blood existential reality to make it as a star up there on the silver screen? What happens to the soul of the people in a city like Los Angeles, for example, when the city is taken over by an entire industry dedicated to producing films and shows populated by stars?
I recall a quote from the main character in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance when he goes into a roadside diner and can’t get the waitress’s attention because she is watching TV. He says, “I don’t exist since I’m not on TV.”
Adolfo Bioy Casares (1914-1999)
April 21, 2022
The Invention of Morel is a very specific tale on the nature of time and our perception of it.
An outcast is beached on a small island where he finds some deserted edifices, tortured by solitude he is in despair… But suddenly everything changes…
He hides and starts tracking these people daily and slowly he becomes obsessed with a beautiful woman…
He attempts to contact her but she doesn’t see him, for her he simply doesn’t exist… He tries to resolve the mystery and gradually he learns that all those he observes are captives of the past… The talented inventor managed to catch a voluminous span of time so that the happy days of his love could repeat endlessly, again and again.
Time is caught but it takes its toll…
Neither beginning nor end – time is an eternal enigma.
An outcast is beached on a small island where he finds some deserted edifices, tortured by solitude he is in despair… But suddenly everything changes…
When I was finally able to sleep, it was very late. The music and the shouting woke me up a few hours later. I have not slept soundly since my escape; I am sure that if a ship, a plane, or any other form of transportation had arrived, I would have heard it. And yet suddenly, unaccountably, on this oppressive summerlike night, the grassy hillside has become crowded with people who dance, stroll up and down, and swim in the pool, as if this were a summer resort…
He hides and starts tracking these people daily and slowly he becomes obsessed with a beautiful woman…
She watches the sunset every afternoon; from my hiding place I watch her. Yesterday, and again today, I discovered that my nights and days wait for this hour. The woman, with a gypsy’s sensuality and a large, bright-colored scarf on her head, is a ridiculous figure.
He attempts to contact her but she doesn’t see him, for her he simply doesn’t exist… He tries to resolve the mystery and gradually he learns that all those he observes are captives of the past… The talented inventor managed to catch a voluminous span of time so that the happy days of his love could repeat endlessly, again and again.
Time is caught but it takes its toll…
The two suns and the two moons: Since the week is repeated all through the year, some suns and moons do not coincide (and people complain of the cold when the weather on the island is warm, and swim in fetid water and dance in a thicket or during a storm). And if the whole island were submerged – except for the machines and projectors – the images, the museum, and the island itself would still be visible.
Neither beginning nor end – time is an eternal enigma.
February 15, 2020
The Invention of Morel is a romantic classic in which passion triumphs over convention, a surrealist classic in which imagination triumphs over reality, a science fiction classic in which technology triumphs over time, and a mystery story whose fantastic resolution always plays fair with the reader.
Is corporeality necessary for human personality? Is community possible even in isolation? Can love survive death and--perhaps what is worse--complete indifference? Bioy Casares novel addresses all of these questions.
Not bad for a little book not quite one hundred pages long.
September 25, 2023
‘I do not believe that a dream should necessarily be taken for reality, or reality for madness.’
How often we feel like an island, alone in a world and beleaguered by the crashing waves of change, responsibility and heartache eroding our soil. Adolfo Bioy Casares presents us a chilling and empathetic tale of love and loneliness, molding the ‘diary of a man stranded on an island’ literary trope into a fantastical and exciting exploration into the human heart. While the sci-fi elements are engaging and intriguing, it is the beat of the human heart drumming out a rhythm of angst and anxiety that takes center stage and pulls the fantasy elements along while making them still feel fresh decades later. The sting of unrequited love and the human desire to cheat death form a beautiful landscape for discussions of immortality and escape through Bioy Casares deft churning of plot and revelation.
The diary writer of The Invention of Morel is both literally, emotionally and psychologically stranded on an island. Escaping a lifetime sentence for an unmentioned crime, he seeks refuge on an island feared for its legends of death and disease amongst what seems like an abandoned vacation resort. The shadowy life sentence hangs over his every move, and when strangers suddenly populate the island, he fears it is an elaborate plot to bring him to justice. The refusal to even hint at his crimes is one of the many mysteries of the novella that Bioy Casares employs to keep the screw of tension turned tight and add a veil of unreliability to the story—for which is benefits and adds color to an otherwise drab plot¹.
‘It is useless to try to keep the whole body alive.’
The story of the Invention is fascinating, but it is not the invention but the morality within it’s creation that is most satisfying. This is a story of love, of being denied love and of desiring to capture the feeling of love for all eternity. Death is the great fear of mortality, and Bioy Casares offers a wild window into attempts to prove the notion that love conquers all, even death in this case. Inspired by a fixation with actress Louise Brooks, Invention explores the depths and depravity of unrequited love, focusing in on the infatuation one can feel for a character in a film or novel. In fits of infatuation, one may act in ways that seems irrational or uncharacteristic from the outside, and the narrator here is a perfect demonstration of the frustration and desperation of a one-sided love affair, even if one is in love with the idea of a person rather than the actual person. This calls to mind the assassination attempt on US President Ronald Reagan by John Hinckley Jr. in an attempt to get the attention of and impress actress Jodie Foster. The technique of the diary is engaging as it allows the reader to occupy the writer’s headspace, leading towards an empathetic validation of his actions instead of a more cold and removed perspective.
The slow unveiling of the plot under intense tones of stress is one of Inventions greatest strengths. This book is difficult to set down as the intensity of the mystery rages at a slow boil. Events take shape like the silhouettes of strangers sauntering out of a mist, and much is left unseen to trouble the reader like icebergs on a dark night at sea. While we are never told of the crime, there is an illuminating passage during the climactic final pages that chronicles the political struggles of the narrators homeland, slyly incorporating a message of feeling isolated by your own country during times of political strife. This seems in keeping with the political undertones of Latin American literature and adds an anchor to history for an otherwise weightless novella.
Jorge Luis Borges championed Invention of Morel as a ‘perfect’ novel, a claim sure to raise a few critical eyebrows. Undeniably, the story could have easily been expanded upon and encompassed the reader in a vaster field of themes and insights into the moral implications of the novel; luckily we have the early seasons of LOST to build a world on the thin strands of ideas in this novel. Morel manages to be nearly perfect for what it is as a novella—to have cut it to a short story would cheapen it and I suspect expanding on it would give a bloated feel—and strikes a sharp blow of singular emotive power by focusing on the pains of impossible love and letting the vast possibilities of the fantastic sci-fi backdrop serve mostly as a conduit for the discussions of solitude in life and love. There is a wider story and plot that could easily be taken to extraordinary places by authors intent more on the impressiveness of plot, but caressing the human heart behind this tale seems a more valuable experience. There is a high price for immortality, and what better to live on for eternity than the feelings of love. For all intensive purposes, Bioy Casares The Invention of Morel lives up to the challenge of immortality and has earned its keep among reissues and Latin American canonization.
4/5
‘To be on an island inhabited by artificial ghosts was the most unbearable of nightmares—to be in love with one of those images was worse than being in love with a ghost (perhaps we always want the person we love to have the existence of a ghost).’
¹ Octavio Paz praised the novella as a world where ‘not only do we traverse a realm of shadows, we ourselves are shadows’. Everything is shadowy and unsure in the anxious tension that drives Invention. The Editor character that appears in the footnotes adds a further layer to toy with the ideas of authenticity though their role is primarily to highlight inconsistencies and mistakes. Another interesting aspect of the Editor character is that it assumes the document has been found and that there is a whole further story of discovery to be had out of sight from the reader; there is another chapter to the Invention that we will never know and this heightens the joy.
How often we feel like an island, alone in a world and beleaguered by the crashing waves of change, responsibility and heartache eroding our soil. Adolfo Bioy Casares presents us a chilling and empathetic tale of love and loneliness, molding the ‘diary of a man stranded on an island’ literary trope into a fantastical and exciting exploration into the human heart. While the sci-fi elements are engaging and intriguing, it is the beat of the human heart drumming out a rhythm of angst and anxiety that takes center stage and pulls the fantasy elements along while making them still feel fresh decades later. The sting of unrequited love and the human desire to cheat death form a beautiful landscape for discussions of immortality and escape through Bioy Casares deft churning of plot and revelation.
The diary writer of The Invention of Morel is both literally, emotionally and psychologically stranded on an island. Escaping a lifetime sentence for an unmentioned crime, he seeks refuge on an island feared for its legends of death and disease amongst what seems like an abandoned vacation resort. The shadowy life sentence hangs over his every move, and when strangers suddenly populate the island, he fears it is an elaborate plot to bring him to justice. The refusal to even hint at his crimes is one of the many mysteries of the novella that Bioy Casares employs to keep the screw of tension turned tight and add a veil of unreliability to the story—for which is benefits and adds color to an otherwise drab plot¹.
‘It is useless to try to keep the whole body alive.’
The story of the Invention is fascinating, but it is not the invention but the morality within it’s creation that is most satisfying. This is a story of love, of being denied love and of desiring to capture the feeling of love for all eternity. Death is the great fear of mortality, and Bioy Casares offers a wild window into attempts to prove the notion that love conquers all, even death in this case. Inspired by a fixation with actress Louise Brooks, Invention explores the depths and depravity of unrequited love, focusing in on the infatuation one can feel for a character in a film or novel. In fits of infatuation, one may act in ways that seems irrational or uncharacteristic from the outside, and the narrator here is a perfect demonstration of the frustration and desperation of a one-sided love affair, even if one is in love with the idea of a person rather than the actual person. This calls to mind the assassination attempt on US President Ronald Reagan by John Hinckley Jr. in an attempt to get the attention of and impress actress Jodie Foster. The technique of the diary is engaging as it allows the reader to occupy the writer’s headspace, leading towards an empathetic validation of his actions instead of a more cold and removed perspective.
The slow unveiling of the plot under intense tones of stress is one of Inventions greatest strengths. This book is difficult to set down as the intensity of the mystery rages at a slow boil. Events take shape like the silhouettes of strangers sauntering out of a mist, and much is left unseen to trouble the reader like icebergs on a dark night at sea. While we are never told of the crime, there is an illuminating passage during the climactic final pages that chronicles the political struggles of the narrators homeland, slyly incorporating a message of feeling isolated by your own country during times of political strife. This seems in keeping with the political undertones of Latin American literature and adds an anchor to history for an otherwise weightless novella.
Jorge Luis Borges championed Invention of Morel as a ‘perfect’ novel, a claim sure to raise a few critical eyebrows. Undeniably, the story could have easily been expanded upon and encompassed the reader in a vaster field of themes and insights into the moral implications of the novel; luckily we have the early seasons of LOST to build a world on the thin strands of ideas in this novel. Morel manages to be nearly perfect for what it is as a novella—to have cut it to a short story would cheapen it and I suspect expanding on it would give a bloated feel—and strikes a sharp blow of singular emotive power by focusing on the pains of impossible love and letting the vast possibilities of the fantastic sci-fi backdrop serve mostly as a conduit for the discussions of solitude in life and love. There is a wider story and plot that could easily be taken to extraordinary places by authors intent more on the impressiveness of plot, but caressing the human heart behind this tale seems a more valuable experience. There is a high price for immortality, and what better to live on for eternity than the feelings of love. For all intensive purposes, Bioy Casares The Invention of Morel lives up to the challenge of immortality and has earned its keep among reissues and Latin American canonization.
4/5
‘To be on an island inhabited by artificial ghosts was the most unbearable of nightmares—to be in love with one of those images was worse than being in love with a ghost (perhaps we always want the person we love to have the existence of a ghost).’
¹ Octavio Paz praised the novella as a world where ‘not only do we traverse a realm of shadows, we ourselves are shadows’. Everything is shadowy and unsure in the anxious tension that drives Invention. The Editor character that appears in the footnotes adds a further layer to toy with the ideas of authenticity though their role is primarily to highlight inconsistencies and mistakes. Another interesting aspect of the Editor character is that it assumes the document has been found and that there is a whole further story of discovery to be had out of sight from the reader; there is another chapter to the Invention that we will never know and this heightens the joy.
October 11, 2022
Review in English (Spanish below)
Read both in English and Spanish. Translated from Spanish by Ruth Simms.
It is hard to write about this short novel without spoiling anything but I will try. The narrator, a nameless convict, hides in a secluded and uninhabited island. On the island there is an abandoned manor where he sleeps. One day he is no longer alone, a group of visitors banish him to the marshes. Due to the many privations he has to suffer, he becomes ill, and begins to question his sanity and reality. He also become desperately infatuated by one of the mysterious visitors, a woman who likes to watch the sunset every day from the same spot. A large part of the novel attraction comes from mystery surrounding the island and its visitors so I do not recommend to try to find out too much about the plot.
Borges considered the novel as perfectly plotted. I would not go that far but I agree it was carefully constructed. The writing was quite atmospheric and claustrophobic, as it should have been. My only problem was with the translation. I could not check the whole book, but I observed some differences in meaning between the Spanish and English version, like the translator din not understand very well what the author was trying to say. If the discordance was on purpose, I still think it sounded better in the original language.
Reseña en español
Leido tanto en inglés como en español. Traducido del español por Ruth Simms.
Es difícil escribir sobre esta novela corta sin divulgar nada, pero lo intentaré. El narrador, un preso sin nombre, se esconde en una isla deshabitada. En la isla hay una mansión abandonada donde duerme. Un día ya no está solo, un grupo de visitantes lo destierra a las marismas. Debido a las muchas privaciones que tiene que sufrir, se enferma y comienza a cuestionar su cordura y su realidad. También se enamora desesperadamente de uno de los misteriosos visitantes, una mujer a la que le gusta ver la puesta de sol todos los días desde el mismo lugar. Gran parte del atraction de la novela proviene del misterio que rodea a la isla y a sus visitantes por lo que no recomiendo intentar averiguar demasiado sobre la trama.
Borges consideró la novela perfectamente tramada. No iría tan lejos, pero estoy de acuerdo en que fue cuidadosamente construida. La escritura era bastante atmosférica y claustrofóbica, como debería haber sido. Mi único problema fue con la traducción. No pude revisar todo el libro, pero observé algunas diferencias de significado entre la versión en español y en inglés, como que el traductor no entendió muy bien lo que el autor estaba tratando de decir. Si la discordancia fue a propósito, sigo pensando que sonaba mejor en el idioma original.
March 1, 2019
*****************************************************
«Πιστεύω πως χάνουμε την αθανασία γιατί δεν έχει εξελιχθεί η αντίστασή μας στο θάνατο· οι τελειοποιήσεις της επιμένουν στην πρωταρχική, τη στοιχειώδη ιδέα: να διατηρήσουμε ζωντανό ολόκληρο το σώμα. Θα 'πρεπε να επιζητούμε τη διατήρηση αυτού που ενδιαφέρει τη συνείδηση».
Η μπαλάντα των αισθήσεων και των παραισθήσεων.
Ένα αριστούργημα. Ένας προφητικός εφιάλτης για την ανθρώπινη υπόσταση. Επιστημονικό θρίλερ,μαύρο,φρικιαστικό,ανατριχιαστικό και μακάβριο όνειρο μέσα στην ονειρική πραγματικότητα. Παράδοξο με όλη τη σημασία της υπόνοιας και της παράνοιας,αλλα και με όλο το μεγαλείο της τελειότητας μιας παντοδύναμης εικόνας που συμμετέχεις ετσι κι αλλιώς.
Συμμετέχουν όλοι όσοι ζουν...
Ο ήρωας μας,ένας κυνηγημένος δραπέτης αποφασίζει να παει σε ένα έρημο καταραμένο νησί όπου παραμονεύει μια φριχτή αρρώστια. Το ανθρώπινο σώμα καταρρέει απο εξω προς τα μέσα. Χάνεις μαλλιά,δέρμα,όραση και εχεις προσδόκιμο ζωής δυο εβδομάδες.
Παρόλα αυτα αποφασίζει να παει για να γλιτώσει απο την απελπισία της καταδίκης σε θάνατο.
Φτάνοντας και μετά απο πολλές δυσκολίες και κακουχίες αντιλαμβάνεται ότι στο νησί που επέλεξε να ζήσει- σε αυτόν τον καταραμένο τόπο υπάρχουν ένα μουσείο, ενα παρε κκλήσι και μια πισίνα- βρίσκονται και άλλοι άνθρωποι, ανάμεσα τους και μια γυναίκα,η Φοστίν,την οποία και ερωτεύεται παράφορα.
Κανείς τους δεν μπορεί να δει τον κατάκοπο και απελπισμένο ήρωα μας, ούτε η γυναίκα που σχεδόν αξιοθρήνητα γονατίζει μπροστά της και της εξομολογείται τον έρωτα του.
Όλα αυτά μέσα στο θολωμένο του μυαλό παίρνουν ακραίες διαστάσεις και προσπαθώντας να τα εξηγήσει θεωρεί πως έχει παραισθήσεις απο κάποια σπάνια αρρώστια ή πως όλοι ειναι πλάσματα εξωγήινα και ανήκουν σε άλλον χωροχρόνο.
Η αλήθεια αποκαλύπτεται αργά και βασανιστικά. Λατρεύει την Φοστίν,όμως δεν υπάρχει τρόπος να την προσεγγίσει.
Ο μόνος τρόπος ειναι η "εφεύρεση του Μορέλ". Και κάπου εδω το αριστούργημα αυτό γίνεται κραυγαλέα συναισθηματικό και εξασφαλίζει την αγάπη στην αιωνιότητα.
"Υποβάλλω μια παράκληση: Ας μας αναζητήσει, την Φοστίν κι εμένα,ας μ' αφησει να μπω στους ουρανούς της συνείδησης της. Θα 'ναι μια πράξη ευσπλαχνική".
Καλή ανάγνωση!
Πολλούς ασπασμούς!
Απο τα καλύτερα βιβλία που γράφτηκαν ποτέ!
ΔΙΑΒΑΣΤΕ ΤΟ!!
Επιβάλλεται!!💯💯🛑⭕️🛑💯💯
«Πιστεύω πως χάνουμε την αθανασία γιατί δεν έχει εξελιχθεί η αντίστασή μας στο θάνατο· οι τελειοποιήσεις της επιμένουν στην πρωταρχική, τη στοιχειώδη ιδέα: να διατηρήσουμε ζωντανό ολόκληρο το σώμα. Θα 'πρεπε να επιζητούμε τη διατήρηση αυτού που ενδιαφέρει τη συνείδηση».
Η μπαλάντα των αισθήσεων και των παραισθήσεων.
Ένα αριστούργημα. Ένας προφητικός εφιάλτης για την ανθρώπινη υπόσταση. Επιστημονικό θρίλερ,μαύρο,φρικιαστικό,ανατριχιαστικό και μακάβριο όνειρο μέσα στην ονειρική πραγματικότητα. Παράδοξο με όλη τη σημασία της υπόνοιας και της παράνοιας,αλλα και με όλο το μεγαλείο της τελειότητας μιας παντοδύναμης εικόνας που συμμετέχεις ετσι κι αλλιώς.
Συμμετέχουν όλοι όσοι ζουν...
Ο ήρωας μας,ένας κυνηγημένος δραπέτης αποφασίζει να παει σε ένα έρημο καταραμένο νησί όπου παραμονεύει μια φριχτή αρρώστια. Το ανθρώπινο σώμα καταρρέει απο εξω προς τα μέσα. Χάνεις μαλλιά,δέρμα,όραση και εχεις προσδόκιμο ζωής δυο εβδομάδες.
Παρόλα αυτα αποφασίζει να παει για να γλιτώσει απο την απελπισία της καταδίκης σε θάνατο.
Φτάνοντας και μετά απο πολλές δυσκολίες και κακουχίες αντιλαμβάνεται ότι στο νησί που επέλεξε να ζήσει- σε αυτόν τον καταραμένο τόπο υπάρχουν ένα μουσείο, ενα παρε κκλήσι και μια πισίνα- βρίσκονται και άλλοι άνθρωποι, ανάμεσα τους και μια γυναίκα,η Φοστίν,την οποία και ερωτεύεται παράφορα.
Κανείς τους δεν μπορεί να δει τον κατάκοπο και απελπισμένο ήρωα μας, ούτε η γυναίκα που σχεδόν αξιοθρήνητα γονατίζει μπροστά της και της εξομολογείται τον έρωτα του.
Όλα αυτά μέσα στο θολωμένο του μυαλό παίρνουν ακραίες διαστάσεις και προσπαθώντας να τα εξηγήσει θεωρεί πως έχει παραισθήσεις απο κάποια σπάνια αρρώστια ή πως όλοι ειναι πλάσματα εξωγήινα και ανήκουν σε άλλον χωροχρόνο.
Η αλήθεια αποκαλύπτεται αργά και βασανιστικά. Λατρεύει την Φοστίν,όμως δεν υπάρχει τρόπος να την προσεγγίσει.
Ο μόνος τρόπος ειναι η "εφεύρεση του Μορέλ". Και κάπου εδω το αριστούργημα αυτό γίνεται κραυγαλέα συναισθηματικό και εξασφαλίζει την αγάπη στην αιωνιότητα.
"Υποβάλλω μια παράκληση: Ας μας αναζητήσει, την Φοστίν κι εμένα,ας μ' αφησει να μπω στους ουρανούς της συνείδησης της. Θα 'ναι μια πράξη ευσπλαχνική".
Καλή ανάγνωση!
Πολλούς ασπασμούς!
Απο τα καλύτερα βιβλία που γράφτηκαν ποτέ!
ΔΙΑΒΑΣΤΕ ΤΟ!!
Επιβάλλεται!!💯💯🛑⭕️🛑💯💯
September 1, 2024
He realized that death would not be such a disaster for the others, because in exchange for a life of uncertain length, he would give them immortality with their best friends.
It was a pleasant Sunday morning, and my eyes were beaming with the light of joy while scanning the books on my shelves. The organs of my visual sensations chanced upon the little beauty wrapped around in beautifully designed cover, the source of delight was the radiating, The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares. I had been in a docile relationship with the book for quite some time now, our association was so old that I tried my level best to bring up the remembrances of the book from the deep cervices of my memory, but it was a futile attempt since I could not remember anything, was it because of accelerating ageing or was it normal? Nonetheless, it proved to be a blessing in disguise as I could dip my literary senses in the heavenly sea of words.
At the outset, the book appears to be an innocuous novella which I picked up with the intent to finish it within the same day though I finished it as per the plan but the questions the book raised kept me pondering upon it for hours. What appears to be simple story tuned out to be amalgamation of various genres. The story starts with a fugitive, stuck on a lonely, treacherous island somewhere on earth to evade the Venezuelan authorities. He starts to maintain a journal which we read as he writes. He somehow manages to devise sufficient ways and means to carve out an existence unmindful of other people on the planet. The cobbled up and sculpted serenity of his world is disrupted by some unknown visitors to the island, the narrator faces an existential challenge as he does not have the luxury to develop relationships with people. However, as it often happens, the vigorous and fierce emotion of love gets hold of his cerebral muscles and he develops an intense fascination towards one of the tourists- Faustine, her beauty mesmerizes him and outwits his logic.
source
The purposeless life of the narrator suddenly discerns an outlandish purpose to be with the embodiment of beauty and grace- Faustine. He tries with the best of his abilities to strike up a conversation with her, but it appears as if she is deaf and blind to his actions and feelings, as if his existence is just an apparition and the fire of nothingness scorches his being. The carefully crafted life of the narrator goes for a toss, the narrator gathers himself up and somehow convinces himself of the authenticity of his life. It pops up another intriguing but devastating question- what about the invaders of the island, his beloved Faustine then? Who are they, who are oblivious to his existence, do they live in different dimensions or are they from another planet or universe since once he observes two sun and two moons while watching Faustine.
The bearded man kept on walking toward Faustine, and if I had not moved in time he would have walked right into me.
At this point, the literary senses of the reader are flooded with multiple possibilities that the invaders could be the artist’s progenies of science fiction, or the narrator might be having some sort of delusional imaginations as we often see people who live in oblivion tend to do. There could be other bizarre explanations too, the invaders could be simulations of a universe operated by a supreme being, the question also keeps on haunting humanity that our universe could be simulation of some colossal universe or multiverse. What if these invaders are projections of some kind but aren’t we all so? The questions of being and nothingness rise to the challenge of the probing eyes of the reader, he is being compelled to think about his own existence as if its authentic or not. The author brilliantly throws these unsettling inquiries to the reader and eventually proposes a credible solution with elements of fantasy fused in it.
The seemingly straightforward love story turns out to be a soul- stirring tale of morality of human existence, built upon the ever-present, ceaseless solitude and loneliness of humanity. The age-old desire of humanity to be immortal always stretches the fabric of morality and the book is no exception to it. Although the solution provided in the book to the dilemma of immortality is ingenious and credible, but conundrum of righteousness pokes you right into your heart with searing questions of being and nothingness. And if we become immortal, then what good the borrowed stint of extended existence will bring to humanity or life in general. We know the entire cosmos is like a superorganism wherein life works in cohesion with the universe, so won’t it disturb the coherence of the universe.
As for Borges, the fantastic literature offers a vide range of opportunities to Bioy than the boring and destitute realism. Since in fantastic literature, so much could be achieved through reasoned imagination, wherein the boundaries of reality may be stretched through the spree of imagination riding upon logic and reason, only to define new boundaries. The line drawing the distinction between reality and fantasy becomes redundant here, for what is reality essentially, isn’t it the already imagined possibility or isn’t the fantasy the extended reality. Love is one of themes the author works upon, however, the love in the world of Bioy is endangered and sophisticated human emotion which takes the shape of obsession through the narrator's courageous maneuvers. These endeavors of the narrator are destined to bring catastrophic outcomes.
I am not so worried about the dangers I am facing- I am most concerned about the mistake I made- it cand deprive me of the woman forever.
source
The book questions the basic problems of consciousness, deceit, truth and perception, it questions the basic nature of truth as to what it is essentially, is it the amalgamation of our experiences or something inherent in nature which may stand on its own. It further challenges our understanding of what we consider objectively true, are in essence just our experiences which means the reality exists in our mind and thereby is subjective. And therefore, our morality and ethics can’t be objective, hence it proposes that human consciousness evolves through experiences. It also poses an intriguing thought here that what if our consciousness follows some sort of pattern and the cycle repeats itself just like the cosmological model of universe proposed by Roger Penrose; but doesn't it also suggest that all our progress, what we have achieved till now will take dip in the well of nothingness and essentially means nothing. Perhaps the wisdom lies here to think objectively and the dawn of enlightenment touches the human soul in this very understanding that the universe works in coherence with law of nature and may rises again to plunge again then to rise again and the process goes on and on, with us or without us.
source
I believe we lose immortality because we have not conquered our opposition to death, we keep insisting on the primary, rudimentary idea: that the whole body should be kept alive. We should seek to preserve only the part that has to do with consciousness.
It was a pleasant Sunday morning, and my eyes were beaming with the light of joy while scanning the books on my shelves. The organs of my visual sensations chanced upon the little beauty wrapped around in beautifully designed cover, the source of delight was the radiating, The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares. I had been in a docile relationship with the book for quite some time now, our association was so old that I tried my level best to bring up the remembrances of the book from the deep cervices of my memory, but it was a futile attempt since I could not remember anything, was it because of accelerating ageing or was it normal? Nonetheless, it proved to be a blessing in disguise as I could dip my literary senses in the heavenly sea of words.
At the outset, the book appears to be an innocuous novella which I picked up with the intent to finish it within the same day though I finished it as per the plan but the questions the book raised kept me pondering upon it for hours. What appears to be simple story tuned out to be amalgamation of various genres. The story starts with a fugitive, stuck on a lonely, treacherous island somewhere on earth to evade the Venezuelan authorities. He starts to maintain a journal which we read as he writes. He somehow manages to devise sufficient ways and means to carve out an existence unmindful of other people on the planet. The cobbled up and sculpted serenity of his world is disrupted by some unknown visitors to the island, the narrator faces an existential challenge as he does not have the luxury to develop relationships with people. However, as it often happens, the vigorous and fierce emotion of love gets hold of his cerebral muscles and he develops an intense fascination towards one of the tourists- Faustine, her beauty mesmerizes him and outwits his logic.
source
The purposeless life of the narrator suddenly discerns an outlandish purpose to be with the embodiment of beauty and grace- Faustine. He tries with the best of his abilities to strike up a conversation with her, but it appears as if she is deaf and blind to his actions and feelings, as if his existence is just an apparition and the fire of nothingness scorches his being. The carefully crafted life of the narrator goes for a toss, the narrator gathers himself up and somehow convinces himself of the authenticity of his life. It pops up another intriguing but devastating question- what about the invaders of the island, his beloved Faustine then? Who are they, who are oblivious to his existence, do they live in different dimensions or are they from another planet or universe since once he observes two sun and two moons while watching Faustine.
The bearded man kept on walking toward Faustine, and if I had not moved in time he would have walked right into me.
At this point, the literary senses of the reader are flooded with multiple possibilities that the invaders could be the artist’s progenies of science fiction, or the narrator might be having some sort of delusional imaginations as we often see people who live in oblivion tend to do. There could be other bizarre explanations too, the invaders could be simulations of a universe operated by a supreme being, the question also keeps on haunting humanity that our universe could be simulation of some colossal universe or multiverse. What if these invaders are projections of some kind but aren’t we all so? The questions of being and nothingness rise to the challenge of the probing eyes of the reader, he is being compelled to think about his own existence as if its authentic or not. The author brilliantly throws these unsettling inquiries to the reader and eventually proposes a credible solution with elements of fantasy fused in it.
The seemingly straightforward love story turns out to be a soul- stirring tale of morality of human existence, built upon the ever-present, ceaseless solitude and loneliness of humanity. The age-old desire of humanity to be immortal always stretches the fabric of morality and the book is no exception to it. Although the solution provided in the book to the dilemma of immortality is ingenious and credible, but conundrum of righteousness pokes you right into your heart with searing questions of being and nothingness. And if we become immortal, then what good the borrowed stint of extended existence will bring to humanity or life in general. We know the entire cosmos is like a superorganism wherein life works in cohesion with the universe, so won’t it disturb the coherence of the universe.
As for Borges, the fantastic literature offers a vide range of opportunities to Bioy than the boring and destitute realism. Since in fantastic literature, so much could be achieved through reasoned imagination, wherein the boundaries of reality may be stretched through the spree of imagination riding upon logic and reason, only to define new boundaries. The line drawing the distinction between reality and fantasy becomes redundant here, for what is reality essentially, isn’t it the already imagined possibility or isn’t the fantasy the extended reality. Love is one of themes the author works upon, however, the love in the world of Bioy is endangered and sophisticated human emotion which takes the shape of obsession through the narrator's courageous maneuvers. These endeavors of the narrator are destined to bring catastrophic outcomes.
I am not so worried about the dangers I am facing- I am most concerned about the mistake I made- it cand deprive me of the woman forever.
source
The book questions the basic problems of consciousness, deceit, truth and perception, it questions the basic nature of truth as to what it is essentially, is it the amalgamation of our experiences or something inherent in nature which may stand on its own. It further challenges our understanding of what we consider objectively true, are in essence just our experiences which means the reality exists in our mind and thereby is subjective. And therefore, our morality and ethics can’t be objective, hence it proposes that human consciousness evolves through experiences. It also poses an intriguing thought here that what if our consciousness follows some sort of pattern and the cycle repeats itself just like the cosmological model of universe proposed by Roger Penrose; but doesn't it also suggest that all our progress, what we have achieved till now will take dip in the well of nothingness and essentially means nothing. Perhaps the wisdom lies here to think objectively and the dawn of enlightenment touches the human soul in this very understanding that the universe works in coherence with law of nature and may rises again to plunge again then to rise again and the process goes on and on, with us or without us.
source
I believe we lose immortality because we have not conquered our opposition to death, we keep insisting on the primary, rudimentary idea: that the whole body should be kept alive. We should seek to preserve only the part that has to do with consciousness.
February 4, 2018
Coming Clean About LOST
Several years ago I was induced by my grandchildren to watch seven seasons’ worth of the television series LOST during summer holidays. Filmed in Hawaii from 2004 to 2010, the series recounted the increasingly strange existence of the survivors of a trans-Pacific flight on an apparently uncharted, and possibly uncharitable, island. Often tedious, always unexpected, the tale, I decided, was either an invention beyond my abilities to appreciate, or it was utter nonsense, with no overall plot or plan for an ending. Turns out it was a bit of both.
Although I have read nothing to confirm this conclusion, it is entirely clear to me that LOST is merely a derivative version of Bioy Casares novella, The Invention of Morel. At least three versions of the 1949 the book had been made into films during the 1960's and 70's. These were explicitly credited to Bioy Casares. But as far as I am aware there is no mention of him as the inspiration for the LOST series. Yet the substance of his book is identical to that of the series, with a few twists thrown into the series reflecting more modern tastes and technologies. Here are my main points of comparison:
1. Both the series and the book take place on a remote island which is inaccessible by normal means. This is explained in the book as due to a reef and an illness, but not in the series which relies on unexplained physical phenomena. The precise means of entry and exit from the island remains a mystery in both.
2. Bioy has a single protagonist who arrives on the island as a fugitive from justice for some indeterminate crime for which he feels both guilt and shame. In LOST this transforms into a plane-load of survivors most of whom are also fugitives, either from the law or from intolerable social conditions. All the main characters feel guilt and shame and demonstrate the same sort of paranoia as Bioy's.
3. There is architectural evidence on the islands in both the book and the series of a previous habitation, modern buildings of unknown purpose, which have been abandoned but left in serviceable condition.
4. Within these structures are found various sophisticated technologies of indeterminate function that are powered by a natural but novel source of tremendous energy. In the series this source is an intense magnetic field, in the book it is tidal forces.
5. These technologies, it is eventually revealed, both allow time travel within the island and provide immortality to its inhabitants. There are relatively minor differences in the series and the book having mainly to do with the level of contemporary technological development reached in each case.
6. The characters in the series mirror those in the book. LOSTS's Ben Linus is the same Californian-esque cult leader as Morel. Bioy's protagonist and his 'female lead', Faustine are the series Jack Shepherd and his sometime enamorata Juliet, this latter being the focus of rivalry by the male characters in both.
7. Several other tropes and devices from Bioy are used repeatedly in the series: half-heard conversations, dream-like sequences, and so on. Others are scarcely concealed variants. For example, in Bioy, trees on the island die before maturity; in the series, it is infants who die.
The parts of the television series which were comprehensible to me were precisely those written by Bioy. I appreciated them as creative and innovative even 60 years later. The rest was indeed junk. And yet not a mention of the real source by the tv producers. Shameful
Several years ago I was induced by my grandchildren to watch seven seasons’ worth of the television series LOST during summer holidays. Filmed in Hawaii from 2004 to 2010, the series recounted the increasingly strange existence of the survivors of a trans-Pacific flight on an apparently uncharted, and possibly uncharitable, island. Often tedious, always unexpected, the tale, I decided, was either an invention beyond my abilities to appreciate, or it was utter nonsense, with no overall plot or plan for an ending. Turns out it was a bit of both.
Although I have read nothing to confirm this conclusion, it is entirely clear to me that LOST is merely a derivative version of Bioy Casares novella, The Invention of Morel. At least three versions of the 1949 the book had been made into films during the 1960's and 70's. These were explicitly credited to Bioy Casares. But as far as I am aware there is no mention of him as the inspiration for the LOST series. Yet the substance of his book is identical to that of the series, with a few twists thrown into the series reflecting more modern tastes and technologies. Here are my main points of comparison:
1. Both the series and the book take place on a remote island which is inaccessible by normal means. This is explained in the book as due to a reef and an illness, but not in the series which relies on unexplained physical phenomena. The precise means of entry and exit from the island remains a mystery in both.
2. Bioy has a single protagonist who arrives on the island as a fugitive from justice for some indeterminate crime for which he feels both guilt and shame. In LOST this transforms into a plane-load of survivors most of whom are also fugitives, either from the law or from intolerable social conditions. All the main characters feel guilt and shame and demonstrate the same sort of paranoia as Bioy's.
3. There is architectural evidence on the islands in both the book and the series of a previous habitation, modern buildings of unknown purpose, which have been abandoned but left in serviceable condition.
4. Within these structures are found various sophisticated technologies of indeterminate function that are powered by a natural but novel source of tremendous energy. In the series this source is an intense magnetic field, in the book it is tidal forces.
5. These technologies, it is eventually revealed, both allow time travel within the island and provide immortality to its inhabitants. There are relatively minor differences in the series and the book having mainly to do with the level of contemporary technological development reached in each case.
6. The characters in the series mirror those in the book. LOSTS's Ben Linus is the same Californian-esque cult leader as Morel. Bioy's protagonist and his 'female lead', Faustine are the series Jack Shepherd and his sometime enamorata Juliet, this latter being the focus of rivalry by the male characters in both.
7. Several other tropes and devices from Bioy are used repeatedly in the series: half-heard conversations, dream-like sequences, and so on. Others are scarcely concealed variants. For example, in Bioy, trees on the island die before maturity; in the series, it is infants who die.
The parts of the television series which were comprehensible to me were precisely those written by Bioy. I appreciated them as creative and innovative even 60 years later. The rest was indeed junk. And yet not a mention of the real source by the tv producers. Shameful
July 24, 2020
"To classify it as perfect is neither an imprecision nor a hyperbole."
That is how Jorge Luis Borges chooses to praise the story in the prologue he wrote for The Invention of Morel. It is difficult to argue the truth of this opinion on this seminal work of fantastic fiction. However, one thing is for certain: Morel is a masterpiece of modernist fiction. Adolfo Bioy Casares' plot and aesthetic appears to be strongly influenced by Borges, which isn't a surprise considering the mentor-pupil friendship of the two authors.
The book explores the life of a fugitive who is hiding on a deserted island. His narration shows a constant fear of being turned over to the law. It is this fear that has driven him to travelling in terse conditions and battling harsh weather to reach this island. The island is remote and barren, except for four fantastical structures: a chapel, a museum, a swimming pool and a mill. Unfortunately his stay is interrupted by the arrival of a group of tourists on the island, forcing him to retreat to the dense forestry to avoid being found out. Yet, who are these mysterious characters? What do they want? Why do they behave in the way they do? What is with the repetitive score of "Tea for Two" and "Valencia" played repeatedly in the background?
The book is entirely based on one man's quest towards understanding these visitors and their phenomenons.
“I do not believe that a dream should necessarily be taken for reality, or reality for madness.”
Some noteworthy facts: The first sound film The Jazz Singer was released in the year 1927. Moving pictures (both silent and talking) had a central influence on the themes of the novel. The book was partially inspired by the movement from silent films to talking films and resulting career-deaths of some celebrated icons of the silent film industry. (See: Louise Brooks).
H.G. Wells' The Island of Doctor Moreau is also an inspiration behind the novel.
That is how Jorge Luis Borges chooses to praise the story in the prologue he wrote for The Invention of Morel. It is difficult to argue the truth of this opinion on this seminal work of fantastic fiction. However, one thing is for certain: Morel is a masterpiece of modernist fiction. Adolfo Bioy Casares' plot and aesthetic appears to be strongly influenced by Borges, which isn't a surprise considering the mentor-pupil friendship of the two authors.
The book explores the life of a fugitive who is hiding on a deserted island. His narration shows a constant fear of being turned over to the law. It is this fear that has driven him to travelling in terse conditions and battling harsh weather to reach this island. The island is remote and barren, except for four fantastical structures: a chapel, a museum, a swimming pool and a mill. Unfortunately his stay is interrupted by the arrival of a group of tourists on the island, forcing him to retreat to the dense forestry to avoid being found out. Yet, who are these mysterious characters? What do they want? Why do they behave in the way they do? What is with the repetitive score of "Tea for Two" and "Valencia" played repeatedly in the background?
The book is entirely based on one man's quest towards understanding these visitors and their phenomenons.
“I do not believe that a dream should necessarily be taken for reality, or reality for madness.”
Some noteworthy facts: The first sound film The Jazz Singer was released in the year 1927. Moving pictures (both silent and talking) had a central influence on the themes of the novel. The book was partially inspired by the movement from silent films to talking films and resulting career-deaths of some celebrated icons of the silent film industry. (See: Louise Brooks).
H.G. Wells' The Island of Doctor Moreau is also an inspiration behind the novel.
February 25, 2024
Am citit, vrînd-nevrînd, o mulțime de povești de iubire, unele mai bune, altele mai rele. Invenția lui Morel e o povestire aparte. Poate că nu e perfectă, cum credea Borges, dar e profund mișcătoare.
E vorba, firește, de un manuscris găsit și adnotat de editor (care nu e neapărat Adolfo Bioy Casares), jurnalul (sau raportul) unui fugar condamnat la moarte pentru o crimă de care nu este vinovat. Cel puțin, asta pretinde în mai multe rînduri protagonistul. Naratorul trăiește cu obsesia că e urmărit pretutindeni de poliție (a fugit din Caracas). Un negustor de covoare italian din Calcutta, pe nume Ombrellieri, îl sfătuiește să se ascundă pe o insulă pustie. Nu înainte de a-l avertiza că insula e bîntuită de o molimă misterioasă. Locul e ciudat, într-adevăr, vegetația e bolnavă și agresivă, copacii sînt putrezi pe dinăuntru, gata să cadă, țărmul e o mlaștină otrăvitoare, hrana e amară.
Aici o va vedea pe - și se va îndrăgosti de - Faustine, o femeie statuară, de o „riguroasă delicatețe”, cu ten arămiu și ochi enormi. Întreaga ei ființă inspiră liniște și seninătate. Faustine obișnuiește, în fiecare zi, să privească apusul. Povestitorul o urmărește avid. Dacă Faustine l-ar remarca pe asiduul ei admirator, s-ar isca, poate, o legătură afectivă între ei. Din păcate, Faustine nu-l privește niciodată, nu-i dă nici un semn, îl ignoră cu o minuțiozitate imperială: „Azi femeia a vrut să-i simt indiferenţa, ceea ce, de altfel, a reuşit”. Poate că bărbatul nu-i inspiră încredere, poate că nu dorește să intre în vorbă cu un străin, poate că e pur și simplu oarbă: „M-a privit. Ochii ei au trecut prin mine”.
Ciudățenia abia acum începe. Eroul observă că unele secvențe din scenariul evenimentelor se repetă periodic, „ca la teatru”. O discuție dintre maleficul inventator Morel și Faustine folosește aceleași replici de acum o săptămînă, de acum două săptămîni. Ceva nu-i în regulă. Întîmplările de pe insulă par a urma un timp circular. Locuitorii muzeului seamănă cu niște fantasme, merg ca în vis. Nu-și dau seama că printre ei s-a insinuat un intrus. În definitiv, nici nu-l pot observa: este și el o fantasmă.
N-o lungesc. În ritmul ăsta risc să parafrazez toată povestirea lui Adolfo Bioy Casares. Voi spune în încheiere că Invenția lui Morel este exemplul cel mai reușit al unei iubiri imposibile, un „amor de lonh”, cum ar fi spus trubadurii: „Dacă aș fi întins brațul, aș fi atins-o. Acest gînd m-a îngrozit”. De ce? Fiindcă îndrăgostiții locuiesc în secvențe temporale diferite, în cronologii diferite, în lumi diferite. Și nimeni nu poate g��si o cale de trecere...
P. S. Nu trebuie să ignorăm faptul că naratorul este adeseori incoerent, că e bolnav și că se plînge de halucinații. Probabil că nu trebuie crezut pe cuvînt. Dar dacă nu-l credem, farmecul poveștii se pierde...
E vorba, firește, de un manuscris găsit și adnotat de editor (care nu e neapărat Adolfo Bioy Casares), jurnalul (sau raportul) unui fugar condamnat la moarte pentru o crimă de care nu este vinovat. Cel puțin, asta pretinde în mai multe rînduri protagonistul. Naratorul trăiește cu obsesia că e urmărit pretutindeni de poliție (a fugit din Caracas). Un negustor de covoare italian din Calcutta, pe nume Ombrellieri, îl sfătuiește să se ascundă pe o insulă pustie. Nu înainte de a-l avertiza că insula e bîntuită de o molimă misterioasă. Locul e ciudat, într-adevăr, vegetația e bolnavă și agresivă, copacii sînt putrezi pe dinăuntru, gata să cadă, țărmul e o mlaștină otrăvitoare, hrana e amară.
Aici o va vedea pe - și se va îndrăgosti de - Faustine, o femeie statuară, de o „riguroasă delicatețe”, cu ten arămiu și ochi enormi. Întreaga ei ființă inspiră liniște și seninătate. Faustine obișnuiește, în fiecare zi, să privească apusul. Povestitorul o urmărește avid. Dacă Faustine l-ar remarca pe asiduul ei admirator, s-ar isca, poate, o legătură afectivă între ei. Din păcate, Faustine nu-l privește niciodată, nu-i dă nici un semn, îl ignoră cu o minuțiozitate imperială: „Azi femeia a vrut să-i simt indiferenţa, ceea ce, de altfel, a reuşit”. Poate că bărbatul nu-i inspiră încredere, poate că nu dorește să intre în vorbă cu un străin, poate că e pur și simplu oarbă: „M-a privit. Ochii ei au trecut prin mine”.
Ciudățenia abia acum începe. Eroul observă că unele secvențe din scenariul evenimentelor se repetă periodic, „ca la teatru”. O discuție dintre maleficul inventator Morel și Faustine folosește aceleași replici de acum o săptămînă, de acum două săptămîni. Ceva nu-i în regulă. Întîmplările de pe insulă par a urma un timp circular. Locuitorii muzeului seamănă cu niște fantasme, merg ca în vis. Nu-și dau seama că printre ei s-a insinuat un intrus. În definitiv, nici nu-l pot observa: este și el o fantasmă.
N-o lungesc. În ritmul ăsta risc să parafrazez toată povestirea lui Adolfo Bioy Casares. Voi spune în încheiere că Invenția lui Morel este exemplul cel mai reușit al unei iubiri imposibile, un „amor de lonh”, cum ar fi spus trubadurii: „Dacă aș fi întins brațul, aș fi atins-o. Acest gînd m-a îngrozit”. De ce? Fiindcă îndrăgostiții locuiesc în secvențe temporale diferite, în cronologii diferite, în lumi diferite. Și nimeni nu poate g��si o cale de trecere...
P. S. Nu trebuie să ignorăm faptul că naratorul este adeseori incoerent, că e bolnav și că se plînge de halucinații. Probabil că nu trebuie crezut pe cuvînt. Dar dacă nu-l credem, farmecul poveștii se pierde...
June 8, 2019
"A veces, conviene soñar" Fiodor Dostoievski, Noches Blancas
Cómo hacer para elaborar una reseña sin despertar sospechas de su trama ni anticipar lo que realmente sucede en "La invención de Morel".
Tal vez, hacer lo que hacen todos: simplemente explicar que esa pequeña y maravillosa novela del gran Adolfo Bioy Casares, la otra cara de la moneda de Jorge Luis Borges (cara buena también) trata acerca de un fugitivo de la justicia que recala en una isla desierta en donde cree que no está solo.
Es acompañado por un grupo de personas y al cruzarse con una hermosa mujer, Faustine, se enamorará genuinamente, pero con la imposibilidad de un acercamiento real que él no termina de comprender.
Además de Faustine, el narrrador se encontrará con otros personajes, incluido el misterioso inventor Morel, cuyo nombre se asemeja al de otro famoso inventor isleño, el doctor Moreau de H.G. Wells.
Pocos saben que Bioy se insipiró fuertemente para escribir esta novela en otra de Julio Verne, llamada "El castillo de los Cárpatos". Con solo leer de qué trata el argumento del libro del gran escritor francés, el lector que no haya surcado las páginas de este libros sabrá hacia dónde se desarrolla esta historia, tan bella, cautivante y leída por tanta gente alrededor del mundo. Tanta que más de un argentino se sorprendería.
Bioy Casares tiene un extraño y cautivante efecto en los lectores de otros países como sucede con Roberto Arlt, Ernesto Sábato y Leopoldo Marechal sólo por nombrar a algunos de los mejores exponentes de argentina, además de Borges y Cortázar.
Volviendo a la historia, creo que lo que aquí se narra es un desgarrador diario sobre la soledad y la búsqueda del contacto humano, complementado con ciertas dosis de naturaleza fantástica al principio del libro y connotaciones de ciencia ficción sobre el final.
La inaccesibilidad que el narrador sufre es condicionante para él, puesto que no entiende por qué Faustine no lo ve, mientras que por otro lado se esconde de los otros "intrusos", como él llama a los demás, participando sin querer de un juego de apariencias.
De todos modos, sólo necesitamos avanzar para saber el por qué de todo este misterio, pero antes de llegar a ello, Bioy nos regalará una soberbia muestra de su narrativa impecable y sin fisuras, con vuelos poéticos y reminiscencias románticas.
En tan sólo ciento cincuenta páginas, nos encontraremos con una historia bella, sólida, acuciante por momentos, debido a los sufrimientos del narrador, con un final que desatará una sincera empatía del lector hacia quien narra esta historia, que no logra comprender el por qué de su insólita situación.
Como sé que muchos lectores aún no descubrieron de qué trata realmente "La invención de Morel", sólo doy algunas pistas.
No es mi intención quebrar la magia latente que se percibe detrás de las líneas de esta novela, que sigue siendo una de las mejores de la literatura argentina y que afortunadamente Bioy Casares transformó en una de las preferidas de muchos lectores alrededor del planeta.
Cómo hacer para elaborar una reseña sin despertar sospechas de su trama ni anticipar lo que realmente sucede en "La invención de Morel".
Tal vez, hacer lo que hacen todos: simplemente explicar que esa pequeña y maravillosa novela del gran Adolfo Bioy Casares, la otra cara de la moneda de Jorge Luis Borges (cara buena también) trata acerca de un fugitivo de la justicia que recala en una isla desierta en donde cree que no está solo.
Es acompañado por un grupo de personas y al cruzarse con una hermosa mujer, Faustine, se enamorará genuinamente, pero con la imposibilidad de un acercamiento real que él no termina de comprender.
Además de Faustine, el narrrador se encontrará con otros personajes, incluido el misterioso inventor Morel, cuyo nombre se asemeja al de otro famoso inventor isleño, el doctor Moreau de H.G. Wells.
Pocos saben que Bioy se insipiró fuertemente para escribir esta novela en otra de Julio Verne, llamada "El castillo de los Cárpatos". Con solo leer de qué trata el argumento del libro del gran escritor francés, el lector que no haya surcado las páginas de este libros sabrá hacia dónde se desarrolla esta historia, tan bella, cautivante y leída por tanta gente alrededor del mundo. Tanta que más de un argentino se sorprendería.
Bioy Casares tiene un extraño y cautivante efecto en los lectores de otros países como sucede con Roberto Arlt, Ernesto Sábato y Leopoldo Marechal sólo por nombrar a algunos de los mejores exponentes de argentina, además de Borges y Cortázar.
Volviendo a la historia, creo que lo que aquí se narra es un desgarrador diario sobre la soledad y la búsqueda del contacto humano, complementado con ciertas dosis de naturaleza fantástica al principio del libro y connotaciones de ciencia ficción sobre el final.
La inaccesibilidad que el narrador sufre es condicionante para él, puesto que no entiende por qué Faustine no lo ve, mientras que por otro lado se esconde de los otros "intrusos", como él llama a los demás, participando sin querer de un juego de apariencias.
De todos modos, sólo necesitamos avanzar para saber el por qué de todo este misterio, pero antes de llegar a ello, Bioy nos regalará una soberbia muestra de su narrativa impecable y sin fisuras, con vuelos poéticos y reminiscencias románticas.
En tan sólo ciento cincuenta páginas, nos encontraremos con una historia bella, sólida, acuciante por momentos, debido a los sufrimientos del narrador, con un final que desatará una sincera empatía del lector hacia quien narra esta historia, que no logra comprender el por qué de su insólita situación.
Como sé que muchos lectores aún no descubrieron de qué trata realmente "La invención de Morel", sólo doy algunas pistas.
No es mi intención quebrar la magia latente que se percibe detrás de las líneas de esta novela, que sigue siendo una de las mejores de la literatura argentina y que afortunadamente Bioy Casares transformó en una de las preferidas de muchos lectores alrededor del planeta.
February 6, 2017
Insane. Insane. Again. Insane.
A convict, fleeing from authorities, lands into an unfamiliar island, which appears to him, as time passes by, as uninhabited too. With no vessel to transport him back in sight, he toils with his survival instinct and somehow, is managing his days in waiting. But his unusual utopia is thrown out of gear when one day, he spots a young beauty at a cliff adjacent to a building, ludicrously named as museum, staring at the setting sun. He is, at once, jolted off his senses and his intuition pokes him with a warning that this could be a police trap. His initial tentativeness is however, weakened gradually, as the sight appears almost every day and with time, more of her friends begin filling his vision. Overpowered by curiosity, he inches towards the museum and in time, eavesdrops on conversations. Faustine, the woman.
As our narrator dwells deep into the mysterious appearance of Faustine, her appeal, her gang (especially Morel) and their purpose on the island, Casares begins tightening the grip, one knot at a time, around an outstanding plot, resting on magic, science and immortality. The fecundity of Casares’ vision not only lies in the masterly excavation of what can be a perennial memory (or truth?), but also why it should be. While the how is clearly debatable, it does enough damage to a normal brain to banish the usual attire and deep dive into the questionable with a restless but freelancer spirit. And literature, I feel, must always achieve this objective. And for this ambitious dilemma alone, I am glad I quarantined my sanity for a while. More ABC!
Then I resumed my efforts, moving to other parts of the wall. Chips fell, and, when large pieces of the wall began to come down, I kept on pounding, bleary-eyed, with an urgency that was far greater than the size of the iron bar, until the resistance of the wall (which seemed unaffected by the force of my repeated pounding) pushed me to the floor, frantic and exhausted. First I saw, then I touched, the pieces of masonry— they were smooth on one side, harsh, earthy on the other: then, in a vision so lucid it seemed ephemeral and supernatural, my eyes saw the blue continuity of the tile, the undamaged and whole wall, the closed room.‘Reasoned Imagination’ – That is how Borges describes this mindboggling attempt of Adolfo Bioy Casares, in what, that my humble mind can ascertain, is a superlative member of post-modernist, abstract fiction canon. Why does the mind battle its familiar boundaries in the thirst of alien waters? What rewards lie at the other end that compel acceptance of a torturous sentence, bordering on pragmatism and surrealism, pushing the soil beneath the feet to an unknown abyss? What does one achieve by undertaking a journey that robs him off his sanity and instead, plants a foreign temperament that forges alliance with none, not even with its owner? Oh no one really knows all the answers but the temptation to venture into such a world is one that has not spared a single, active mind.
A convict, fleeing from authorities, lands into an unfamiliar island, which appears to him, as time passes by, as uninhabited too. With no vessel to transport him back in sight, he toils with his survival instinct and somehow, is managing his days in waiting. But his unusual utopia is thrown out of gear when one day, he spots a young beauty at a cliff adjacent to a building, ludicrously named as museum, staring at the setting sun. He is, at once, jolted off his senses and his intuition pokes him with a warning that this could be a police trap. His initial tentativeness is however, weakened gradually, as the sight appears almost every day and with time, more of her friends begin filling his vision. Overpowered by curiosity, he inches towards the museum and in time, eavesdrops on conversations. Faustine, the woman.
As our narrator dwells deep into the mysterious appearance of Faustine, her appeal, her gang (especially Morel) and their purpose on the island, Casares begins tightening the grip, one knot at a time, around an outstanding plot, resting on magic, science and immortality. The fecundity of Casares’ vision not only lies in the masterly excavation of what can be a perennial memory (or truth?), but also why it should be. While the how is clearly debatable, it does enough damage to a normal brain to banish the usual attire and deep dive into the questionable with a restless but freelancer spirit. And literature, I feel, must always achieve this objective. And for this ambitious dilemma alone, I am glad I quarantined my sanity for a while. More ABC!
October 21, 2023
This is enticingly vague and atmospheric at first, but I quickly became uneasy on behalf of, and then about, the fugitive. As some things become clearer, others become less so, prompting complex, and often paradoxical, philosophical questions. When you can't trust your senses, what is truth, and how do you know if you are dead, dreaming, hallucinating, or mad? When nothing makes sense, and cause doesn’t seem to lead to the expected effect, how do you make decisions, or are you a mere plaything of malign gods or Fate?
Add to that the obsessive desire (he calls it “love”) of an apparently unattainable woman and it sounds overloaded. It’s not. Approaching the midpoint, I was underwhelmed. But then Bioy carefully pulled out all the stops: I was bombarded by a bewildering cacophony of the “adverse miracle”. I lived the story. Wonderful.
The English title can be interpreted in two ways. There’s truth in both.
Image: Faustine watching the sunset. One of Norah Borges de Torre’s illustrations.
Avoid spoilers
The brilliance and unsettling joy of this book is in thinking alongside the fugitive, trying to work out what is going on, how, and why: questioning your sanity as the impossible begins to seem merely improbable and even likely. As you gradually figure it out, you have to unravel, rewind, and analyse all your assumptions, not just about the story, but the very fabric of reality.
I'm glad Bioy kept it short, despite the many ways he could have expanded it: that way we each invent Morel in our own way.
Borges
Bioy, as he liked to be known, was a protégé, collaborator, and friend of the slightly older, fellow Argentinian writer, Borges. This was his first “successful fiction”, aged only 26. In the prologue, Borges writes, of the book dedicated to him:
“To classify it as perfect is neither an imprecision nor a hyperbole.”
Image: Empty shoes by a puddle whose reflection shows a couple wearing the shoes. Surreal photo by Olaf Bathke. (Source)
See also
There are additional links in the spoilered section, but their titles are spoilers.
• On the first page, and several times afterwards, the fugitive praises Malthus and wants to write a book promoting his ideas. I reviewed his An Essay on the Principle of Population with Swift’s A Modest Proposal HERE.
• In Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum, a solitary man is battling not just to stay alive but also to work out what's going on, whether death would be easier, and questioning his sanity. In other respects, it’s quite different. See my review HERE.
• Bélidor was an engineer, specialising in hydraulics and ballistics. The fugitive pockets a book Bélidor wrote.
• It’s impossible to read of a man, apparently unjustly tried and sentenced, battling unknown forces, without thinking of Kafka, especially The Trial, which I reviewed HERE.
• The opening makes you wonder if it will be like Robinson Crusoe. But it's not.
• In Jay Parini’s delightful memoir, Borges and Me, Borges mentions his admiration of this book. See my review HERE.
• One of Borges’s early stories has a character with a similar name: The Cruel Redeemer of Lazarus Morell. It's about a bid for freedom. I reviewed it HERE.
• I’ve reviewed all of Borges’s Collected Fictions HERE.
• Casares explores similar themes, with a similar sort of twist, in his short story, Venetian Masks, which I reviewed HERE. However, I think Morel is far superior, so if you only read one, make it this.
Quotes
There are more in the spoilered section.
• “Plants, grasses, and flowers overtake each other with more urgency to be born than to die, each one invading the time and place of the others in a tangled mass.”
• “Hope is everything I must fear.”
• “The effort needed to kill myself was superfluous now, because with Faustine gone not even the anachronous satisfaction of death remained.”
• “Troops with rented uniforms and deadly aim.”
Add to that the obsessive desire (he calls it “love”) of an apparently unattainable woman and it sounds overloaded. It’s not. Approaching the midpoint, I was underwhelmed. But then Bioy carefully pulled out all the stops: I was bombarded by a bewildering cacophony of the “adverse miracle”. I lived the story. Wonderful.
The English title can be interpreted in two ways. There’s truth in both.
Image: Faustine watching the sunset. One of Norah Borges de Torre’s illustrations.
Avoid spoilers
The brilliance and unsettling joy of this book is in thinking alongside the fugitive, trying to work out what is going on, how, and why: questioning your sanity as the impossible begins to seem merely improbable and even likely. As you gradually figure it out, you have to unravel, rewind, and analyse all your assumptions, not just about the story, but the very fabric of reality.
I'm glad Bioy kept it short, despite the many ways he could have expanded it: that way we each invent Morel in our own way.
Borges
Bioy, as he liked to be known, was a protégé, collaborator, and friend of the slightly older, fellow Argentinian writer, Borges. This was his first “successful fiction”, aged only 26. In the prologue, Borges writes, of the book dedicated to him:
“To classify it as perfect is neither an imprecision nor a hyperbole.”
Image: Empty shoes by a puddle whose reflection shows a couple wearing the shoes. Surreal photo by Olaf Bathke. (Source)
See also
There are additional links in the spoilered section, but their titles are spoilers.
• On the first page, and several times afterwards, the fugitive praises Malthus and wants to write a book promoting his ideas. I reviewed his An Essay on the Principle of Population with Swift’s A Modest Proposal HERE.
• In Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum, a solitary man is battling not just to stay alive but also to work out what's going on, whether death would be easier, and questioning his sanity. In other respects, it’s quite different. See my review HERE.
• Bélidor was an engineer, specialising in hydraulics and ballistics. The fugitive pockets a book Bélidor wrote.
• It’s impossible to read of a man, apparently unjustly tried and sentenced, battling unknown forces, without thinking of Kafka, especially The Trial, which I reviewed HERE.
• The opening makes you wonder if it will be like Robinson Crusoe. But it's not.
• In Jay Parini’s delightful memoir, Borges and Me, Borges mentions his admiration of this book. See my review HERE.
• One of Borges’s early stories has a character with a similar name: The Cruel Redeemer of Lazarus Morell. It's about a bid for freedom. I reviewed it HERE.
• I’ve reviewed all of Borges’s Collected Fictions HERE.
• Casares explores similar themes, with a similar sort of twist, in his short story, Venetian Masks, which I reviewed HERE. However, I think Morel is far superior, so if you only read one, make it this.
Quotes
There are more in the spoilered section.
• “Plants, grasses, and flowers overtake each other with more urgency to be born than to die, each one invading the time and place of the others in a tangled mass.”
• “Hope is everything I must fear.”
• “The effort needed to kill myself was superfluous now, because with Faustine gone not even the anachronous satisfaction of death remained.”
• “Troops with rented uniforms and deadly aim.”
May 8, 2019
A lean, somewhat remarkable little thing. The much ballyhooed connection with Last Year at Marienbad is fascinating - I never would have thought of it but it's dead on. I don't really know how to explain what this is without spoiling it, but it's an admirable piece of surrealism/sci-fi that stands out for its meticulousness. Every aspect is painstakingly explained (and illustrated!) and what results is a totally logical book. It's fun to try to figure out what is happening alongside the narrator - my favorite section comes when he lays out every possible explanation for the strange events - and I found Casares's disinterest in exposition commendable. The thing that's actually happening is a fairly brilliant literary invention, and the ending is massively on-point. Some nice moments of meta-fiction are sprinkled through, and I totally dug the flower garden sequence (you'll see).
What's weird, really weird, is despite all this, it's too long. You'll get frustrated with the narrator for not figuring it out sooner. And there are these strange little loops in it that make it read a little too stream-of-consciousnessy (the introduction claims that this is a move away from that particular surrealist trend - I'd argue that some tendrils remain). I see why Borges liked it, but it doesn't remind me of his writing at all.
What's weird, really weird, is despite all this, it's too long. You'll get frustrated with the narrator for not figuring it out sooner. And there are these strange little loops in it that make it read a little too stream-of-consciousnessy (the introduction claims that this is a move away from that particular surrealist trend - I'd argue that some tendrils remain). I see why Borges liked it, but it doesn't remind me of his writing at all.
November 15, 2021
“the most complete and total perception not only of the unreality of the world but of our own unreality: not only do we traverse a realm of shadows, we ourselves are shadows.” says octavio paz. and borges called this novella ‘perfect.’ but listen up great genius writers from the past: the situation set up in the book is super cool and mysterious and gorgeous and, yes, it does lend itself to some kind of metaphor for the elusive nature of truth and life and technology… but isn’t it left so open that it could kinda be a metaphor for anything without actually pointing out anything substantial? and doesn’t casares get mired down in explanation? isn't much of the final third basically that shitty moment in a horror film whereby some character exposits out the whole inner mythology of the film and it transforms from like lynch or kieslowski into turtletaub? and don't gimme no shit about it being one of the first of the genre so we gotta accept some of the clumsy machinations that were later refined; i mean Borges himself was banging out tons of these types of stories every week and never pulled that kind of shit. bradbury would’ve written a better version of this novella, would’ve tied it more successfully to actual human experience, and would’ve dispensed with all the awkward expositional explanation (as did robbe-grillet/resnais in marienbad), while retaining the dark sense of mystery and human folly.
April 13, 2015
The incomprehensibility of an idea is what makes man delve deeper into it. The more challenging the idea the more fascination it holds. For as long as mankind can remember, the idea of death and immortality has intrigued minds, making man wish to conquer death and to become immortal. Philosophy, science and religion maintain views which suggest some interesting thoughts for contemplation. But since ‘death’ still remains unconquerable, man somehow tries to deceive it by leaving behind works of importance which may perhaps render immortality to the name. In the case of Art it seems even more appropriate. As long as the work of art lives, the name of artist remains immortal.
This work by Adolfo Bioy Casares, not only deals with a man’s fascination with the idea of immortality and how he tries to achieve it but also with its confrontation with reality. It further poses questions on the possible implications and this is what makes this work so compelling. I would venture to say that even without Borges’ support the work would have stood apart as a distinct work of art whose beauty lies in the remarkably executed plot.
The protagonist of the story is a fugitive and the story is narrated in first person. The work starts with narrator’s coming to a remote, supposedly disease infected island with no human sign. We are never told the name of the narrator but the name of island is Villings and it has a museum, a chapel and a swimming pool, thought to be constructed by the last inhabitants who abandoned it later because of the disease. After sometime the narrator start noticing people on the island who were not there before and who seemed to have come out of nowhere. Where have they come from? Now this is the deceit which Casares has worked so beautifully with and it is quite well advanced for his times.
Those people are actually not real but images. Images recorded for a week and then being set up on a big projector working in sync with the ocean tides. But the images are three dimensional like in holography so that they appear real from a distance. The work being undertaken by a man named Morel (interestingly it seems to rhyme with the Greek word ‘Moirai’ which is plural and means ‘fates’). We know of this because in a recorded scene, Morel tells about it to all the people whom he recorded for his experiment. The experiment being to make those people immortal by capturing them and letting them live in a projected world forever.
Our narrator, who seems to be fascinated with this experiment because he has fallen in love with the image of a woman named Faustine, records all his experiences in a diary and somehow wishes to be a part of the experiment itself to be able to make his presence felt to the woman. But he also posits uncertainty as to the fruitfulness of such endeavor.
“The case of the inventor who is duped by his own invention emphasizes our need for circumspection. But I may be generalizing about the peculiarities of one man, moralizing about a characteristic that applies only to Morel. I approve of the direction he gave, no doubt unconsciously, to his efforts to perpetuate man: but he has preserved nothing but sensations; and, although his invention was incomplete, he at least foreshadowed the truth: man will one day create human life. His work seems to confirm my old axiom: it is useless to try to keep the whole body alive.”
The preservation of images without them having any consciousness is different from our reality and hence incomplete. Also further he questions the morality of such endeavors and their consequences, shall man be able to device something successfully, perhaps including consciousness, to remain immortal.
When minds of greater refinement than Morel's begin to work on the invention, man will select a lonely, pleasant place, will go there with the persons he loves most, and will endure in an intimate paradise. A single garden, if the scenes to be eternalized are recorded at different moments, will contain innumerable paradises, and each group of inhabitants, unaware of the others, will move about simultaneously, almost in the same places, without colliding. But unfortunately these will be vulnerable paradises because the images will not be able to see men; and, if men do not heed the advice of Malthus, someday they will need the land of even the smallest paradise, and will destroy its defenseless inhabitants or will exile them by disconnecting their machines.
Casares seems to be anticipating the hazard of such scientific inventions which man may undertake to gain immortality in the future. Although we haven’t yet achieved it but the horror of this possibility is not hard to imagine.
The work also seems to be an ode to the world of movies since Casares was quite fascinated by them while growing up.The idea of capturing images of actors and then playing them over and over again to attain same reality was what held his attention. He is also seemingly fascinated by the idea of cyclic repetition as his literary guide Borges.
I am quite taken by the power of his writing style and after the strong recommendation of Mike, do look forward to reading more of him.
March 10, 2016
When I first started this novella, I was highly bemused by everything. The nameless narrator from Venezuela, who is living on an island he believes is called Villings and who decides to write a diary of what is happening there. He is unsure how long he has to live. He is a fugitive on the run from justice after being sentenced to life imprisonment. We are never to find out what this crime is, and then an Italian rug merchant in Calcutta tells him about an island:
There is only one place for a fugitive like you – it is an uninhabited island, but a human being cannot live there. Around 1924 a group of white men built a museum, a chapel, and a swimming pool on the island. (A rather good drawing is shown in the book). The work was completed and then abandoned….. Chinese pirates do not go there, and the white ship of the Rockefeller Institute never calls at the island, because it is known to be the focal point of a mysterious disease, a fatal disease that attacks the outside of the body and then works inward. The nails drop off, the fingers and toes; the hair falls out. The skin and the corneas of the eyes die, and the body lives on for one week, or two at the most.
And this individual still wants to go there because his life is so unbearable! By this stage I was getting completely annoyed with this book. People started arriving on the island and doing rather odd things. I really couldn’t take the comings and goings any longer and so decided to abandon it.
Nevertheless, would you believe that I couldn’t stop thinking about the wretched book and started rereading it the following day. Whatever happened I was determined to finish it – I can only compare this to a dog with a bone.
It’s rather strange but I seemed to view the work in a different light. Perhaps sitting on the terrace in the sun put me in a better state of mind. I really don’t know. I then began to appreciate the book as the story unfolded; actually a love story, but nevertheless a very unusual love story.
Then one day a group of visitors come to the island. The narrator soon has his gaze fixed on a woman who looks like a gypsy. She sits on a rock and comes every afternoon to watch the sunset. Our narrator is mesmerized by her, cannot get her out of his mind and watches her every day for a week. He even springs out to her one day to surprise her but he may as well have been invisible as she apparently cannot see him. On one of these days she is talking to a man called Morel who calls her Faustine. Ah now our narrator knows the name of his now much beloved one.
There is much confusion as the narrator doesn’t appear to know if he’s hallucinating at times, is dead or alive, the visitors are dead, images or what. He’s full of angst most of the time being quite convinced that these people on the island are there to capture him and he’s constantly on the run. He also is unsure out of all of these individuals who can see him and who cannot. But surprisingly enough our narrator doesn’t seem at all bothered with the possibility of death from this supposedly dreadful disease. But is there such a disease or is it all an illusion? The answer does indeed lie with an individual called Morel and it transpires that he has created a machine using images from reflections in mirrors. Our narrator cannot understand why he can see and hear Faustine and Morel and the other guests and then a week later this scenario is repeated.
The descriptive elements are superb, be it the flora on the island or the treacherous tides, that submerge parts of the island; which all add to the structure of the novel.
And as for the two suns and two moons, I couldn’t fathom this out at all until later in the book. What was interesting to know however is that two suns had been seen before in earlier times by Cicero:
The two suns that, as I heard from my father, were seen in the Consulate of Tuditanus and Aquilius, in the year (183 B.C) when the sun of Publius Africanus was extinguished.. (This statement appears to be incorrect after looking at other reliable sources but the gist is there.)
This tour de force had such an unexpected effect on me and to think that I nearly dismissed it arbitrarily. The writing style is second to none and in fact I really don’t know how the author had such an incredible imagination to write this novella. I most certainly want to read his other books.
Faced with the penultimate page I found myself highly perplexed. How can one possibly describe this multi-faceted, metaphysical, mysterious, surreal and surprising novella? There is so much depth to this work.
As for the denouement… Well all that can be said is that it wasn’t at all what I expected.
And finally, thank you Harold for mentioning this book to me in one of your comments on a book by J.L. Borges, Collected Fictions. It’s interesting that they both had this fascination with mirrors and what they can lead to.
There is only one place for a fugitive like you – it is an uninhabited island, but a human being cannot live there. Around 1924 a group of white men built a museum, a chapel, and a swimming pool on the island. (A rather good drawing is shown in the book). The work was completed and then abandoned….. Chinese pirates do not go there, and the white ship of the Rockefeller Institute never calls at the island, because it is known to be the focal point of a mysterious disease, a fatal disease that attacks the outside of the body and then works inward. The nails drop off, the fingers and toes; the hair falls out. The skin and the corneas of the eyes die, and the body lives on for one week, or two at the most.
And this individual still wants to go there because his life is so unbearable! By this stage I was getting completely annoyed with this book. People started arriving on the island and doing rather odd things. I really couldn’t take the comings and goings any longer and so decided to abandon it.
Nevertheless, would you believe that I couldn’t stop thinking about the wretched book and started rereading it the following day. Whatever happened I was determined to finish it – I can only compare this to a dog with a bone.
It’s rather strange but I seemed to view the work in a different light. Perhaps sitting on the terrace in the sun put me in a better state of mind. I really don’t know. I then began to appreciate the book as the story unfolded; actually a love story, but nevertheless a very unusual love story.
Then one day a group of visitors come to the island. The narrator soon has his gaze fixed on a woman who looks like a gypsy. She sits on a rock and comes every afternoon to watch the sunset. Our narrator is mesmerized by her, cannot get her out of his mind and watches her every day for a week. He even springs out to her one day to surprise her but he may as well have been invisible as she apparently cannot see him. On one of these days she is talking to a man called Morel who calls her Faustine. Ah now our narrator knows the name of his now much beloved one.
There is much confusion as the narrator doesn’t appear to know if he’s hallucinating at times, is dead or alive, the visitors are dead, images or what. He’s full of angst most of the time being quite convinced that these people on the island are there to capture him and he’s constantly on the run. He also is unsure out of all of these individuals who can see him and who cannot. But surprisingly enough our narrator doesn’t seem at all bothered with the possibility of death from this supposedly dreadful disease. But is there such a disease or is it all an illusion? The answer does indeed lie with an individual called Morel and it transpires that he has created a machine using images from reflections in mirrors. Our narrator cannot understand why he can see and hear Faustine and Morel and the other guests and then a week later this scenario is repeated.
The descriptive elements are superb, be it the flora on the island or the treacherous tides, that submerge parts of the island; which all add to the structure of the novel.
And as for the two suns and two moons, I couldn’t fathom this out at all until later in the book. What was interesting to know however is that two suns had been seen before in earlier times by Cicero:
The two suns that, as I heard from my father, were seen in the Consulate of Tuditanus and Aquilius, in the year (183 B.C) when the sun of Publius Africanus was extinguished.. (This statement appears to be incorrect after looking at other reliable sources but the gist is there.)
This tour de force had such an unexpected effect on me and to think that I nearly dismissed it arbitrarily. The writing style is second to none and in fact I really don’t know how the author had such an incredible imagination to write this novella. I most certainly want to read his other books.
Faced with the penultimate page I found myself highly perplexed. How can one possibly describe this multi-faceted, metaphysical, mysterious, surreal and surprising novella? There is so much depth to this work.
As for the denouement… Well all that can be said is that it wasn’t at all what I expected.
And finally, thank you Harold for mentioning this book to me in one of your comments on a book by J.L. Borges, Collected Fictions. It’s interesting that they both had this fascination with mirrors and what they can lead to.
December 24, 2016
A surrealistic story with perfect execution. I am captivated by the setting and protagonist's inner conflicts. Me! A shallow reader who enjoy cheap thrilling of pulp fictions enjoyed a Latin American literature work! That's how good Casares's writing skill is.
Mystery has big part on the story, so even it is a well known literature, I don't want to say much about the plot. But I can say the atmosphere alone is a perfect example of surrealism of early 20th century. I can't help myself imagining the story as in 1930s movie (the story was published at 1940).
After finishing this, maybe I can endure reading the works of Jorge Luis Borges or Gabriel García Marquez. ;)
ADDITION INFO:
Thanks to Wreade1872's Reviews, there is a link regarding some lost in translation for English version. The article is here: http://anagrammatically.com/2011/09/1...
Mystery has big part on the story, so even it is a well known literature, I don't want to say much about the plot. But I can say the atmosphere alone is a perfect example of surrealism of early 20th century. I can't help myself imagining the story as in 1930s movie (the story was published at 1940).
After finishing this, maybe I can endure reading the works of Jorge Luis Borges or Gabriel García Marquez. ;)
ADDITION INFO:
Thanks to Wreade1872's Reviews, there is a link regarding some lost in translation for English version. The article is here: http://anagrammatically.com/2011/09/1...
July 6, 2022
The dead remain in the midst of the living.
The Invention of Morel is a satirical tale which questions the boundaries between fantasy, imagination and reality, exploring the subject of man, God and immortality. Where are we going? Where were we before?
The narrator of the story who is wanted by the authorities, takes refuge on an uninhabited island, where there is a museum, a chapel, a swimming pool, a stairway, a secret door, mirrors and a mysterious deadly disease.
My life was so unbearable that I decided to go there anyway.
But who built this place? And why did they abandon it?
At first he assumes he is alone.
When one is alone it is impossible to be dead.
But after some time he sees people and among them he sees Faustine and falls in love with her.
She watches the sunset every afternoon; from my hiding place I watch her. Yesterday, and again today, I discovered that my nights and days wait for this hour.
She sits there, as if posing for an invisible photographer; she surpasses the calm of the sunset.
But why doesn't she notice him? Come to think of it, why nobody seems to see him? Why does he feel the same actions and conversations of the people repeat every day? Why are there two moons and two suns in the sky?
Is he hallucinating? Has he lost his sanity? What is real and what is an illusion?
I think I must be in hell.
The Invention of Morel is a satirical tale which questions the boundaries between fantasy, imagination and reality, exploring the subject of man, God and immortality. Where are we going? Where were we before?
The narrator of the story who is wanted by the authorities, takes refuge on an uninhabited island, where there is a museum, a chapel, a swimming pool, a stairway, a secret door, mirrors and a mysterious deadly disease.
My life was so unbearable that I decided to go there anyway.
But who built this place? And why did they abandon it?
At first he assumes he is alone.
When one is alone it is impossible to be dead.
But after some time he sees people and among them he sees Faustine and falls in love with her.
She watches the sunset every afternoon; from my hiding place I watch her. Yesterday, and again today, I discovered that my nights and days wait for this hour.
She sits there, as if posing for an invisible photographer; she surpasses the calm of the sunset.
But why doesn't she notice him? Come to think of it, why nobody seems to see him? Why does he feel the same actions and conversations of the people repeat every day? Why are there two moons and two suns in the sky?
Is he hallucinating? Has he lost his sanity? What is real and what is an illusion?
I think I must be in hell.
April 8, 2015
عندما تكتب عن رواية فاتنة فيجب أن تعطي نفسك فرصة لكي تلتقط الأنفاس وتستحضر الصور والمشاهد والأفكار .. ليس كل الروايات تستحق ولا كلها تعطيك هذه البهجة البهجة التي تأتي محملة بالكثير من التصورات والأفكار بعد قرائتها
هذه مقدمة لا بد منها يستحقها أدولفو كاساريس .. لأنه كاتب مختلف ولأنه كاتب فنتازي أعطى هالة من الغموض ليتيح المجال للعديد من التفسيرات كاتب لا يسهل عليك الأمر يدفعك للتفكير وأنا أحب ذلك ..
كتبت هذه الرواية على شكل يوميات لبطل الرواية هوامشها جزء من الحكاية
تدور أحداثها في جزيرة معزولة لا يعرف عنها العامة بل عرفها صاحبنا الذي ليس له اسما في الرواية عن طريق تاجر إيطالي ، وبما إنه هارب من حكم يقرر الفرار إلى الجزيرة جزيرة معزولة لا تحوي سوى كنيسة ومتحف ومكتبة .. جزيرة يفترض إنها مهجورة وكان التحاق هذا الرجل بالجزيرة اشبه بالإنفصال عن الحياة الحقيقية مما يوحي لك بأن هذه الرواية القصيرة كتبت لتمجد حياة العزلة وكيف يمكن لإنسان أن يتعامل مع العزلة بسخرية مؤلمة في ظل ظروف خارجة عن السيطرة
غير أن الوضع في الجزيرة لا يبقى كما هو ففجأة يلتقي بمصطافين يظن في فترة ما إنهم متواطئون مع الشرطة وإنه ملاحق غير أن من بينهم إمرأة تجذبه لمراقبتها وتبدو تلك الفتاة مثل أملا للروح تحييه�� ، يقترب منها ، يزرع لها حديقة من الورد يود لو يركع تحت ركبتيها ، لكن الأمر ليس بتلك السهولة فلا الجزيزة تلك الجزيرة ولا البشر هم أؤلئك البشر ..
من المهم هنا أن نقف على وقت كتابة الرواية وإنه حدث في أربعينيات القرن العشرين وذلك قبل عام واحد من بدء البث التيلفزيوني وانتشار العرض في كل بيت أمريكي وهنا المفاجأة في هذا النص ربط الحكاية بالصور والمشاهد السينمائية والتي كانت الوسيلة الأمثل لتجسيد فكرة الخلود .. هل الصورة تشعر بوجودنا كما نشعر بوجودها هل هؤلاء بشر حقيقيون بقدر ما نحن حقيقيون لكن من يخبرنا بأننا حقيقيون فعلا .. إن فكرة الخلود لا يمكن أن تتحقق إلا بوسيلتين الصورة والكلمة وكلاهما تحقق في اختراع موريل فهناك المشاهد التي خلدها موريل في جهاز عرضه وهناك يوميات بطل الحكاية .. لقد ربط كاساريس مسألة الخلود بهذين الأمرين وجعل الأمر يبدو واقعا في المنطقة ما بين الهلوسة والواقع غير أن فكرة الموت هو أمر واقع والإلتحاق بالحبيبة قد يخفف من وطأة هذا الأمر ( الموت الذي أصبح مستحيلا بعد أن رأيت هذه المرأة)
وهكذا تكون المرأة هي الحياة وهي أيضا جزء هام من فكرة الخلود ..
يتيح لك الكاتب أيضا أن ترى الأمر مجرد هلوسة رجل محموم ومحكوم بالأعدام في قوله في أول الحكاية ( مريضا أهلوس .. ضائعا في الرعب ) نعم قد لا يتعدى الأمر مسألة هلوسة ولكن بلاشك لن ترتضي مثل هذه الفكرة .. الكتابة في الخيال العلمي يجب إنجازه بشكل يتحدى فيه ذكاء القارىء أن يكون متجددا أن يقدم لك أفكارا غير مسبوقة وكاساريس حين كتب هذا النص في ذلك الوقت أثناء الحرب العالمية الثانية وأثناء ما كانت الصورة تتحرك في كل بيت كتب نصا بفكرة غير مسبوقة
.. ويبدو أن تعلقه بصورة إحدى الممثلات كان ملهمة لهذا الحد من الإنجاز الأدبي
إن شخصية الهارب في هذا النص هو شخص تستولي عليه أفكار محبطة نبرته نبرة الشكوى والتظلم ، شخص يعاني من حالة من اليأس وفقدان الثقة بالآخر لذلك تجده يتماهى مع صورة إمرأة لدرجة الركوع لدرجة الشعور بالغيرة .. نبرة تجتاحها الأمل برؤية المرأة لكنها تخبو وتتقوقع في خانة الإحباط حين لا يعدو الأمر أكثر من مجرد صورة
صورة المرأة وهي تتأمل ، امرأة جميلة تلبس وشاحا تجلس على الصخور المطلة على المحيط ، تقرأ كتابا تراقب غروب الشمس لهو مشهد يوحي بالنهاية
لكنه في هذه الرواية الصغيرة كان الجزء الأهم من البداية ، موريل يراقب اختراعه من على بعد يحقق اهدافه مبتسما بلا شك ، في محاولة تأجيل الموت والحياة داخل صورة ! ولأنه حقق أهدافه ظهر الكتاب بعنوان اختراع موريل مما يؤكد على انتصار الصورة في النهاية .. فالصورة تبقى دائما
قرأت هذه الرواية القصيرة بمتعة خالصة على جهاز الموبايل في مطار الكويت
هذه مقدمة لا بد منها يستحقها أدولفو كاساريس .. لأنه كاتب مختلف ولأنه كاتب فنتازي أعطى هالة من الغموض ليتيح المجال للعديد من التفسيرات كاتب لا يسهل عليك الأمر يدفعك للتفكير وأنا أحب ذلك ..
كتبت هذه الرواية على شكل يوميات لبطل الرواية هوامشها جزء من الحكاية
تدور أحداثها في جزيرة معزولة لا يعرف عنها العامة بل عرفها صاحبنا الذي ليس له اسما في الرواية عن طريق تاجر إيطالي ، وبما إنه هارب من حكم يقرر الفرار إلى الجزيرة جزيرة معزولة لا تحوي سوى كنيسة ومتحف ومكتبة .. جزيرة يفترض إنها مهجورة وكان التحاق هذا الرجل بالجزيرة اشبه بالإنفصال عن الحياة الحقيقية مما يوحي لك بأن هذه الرواية القصيرة كتبت لتمجد حياة العزلة وكيف يمكن لإنسان أن يتعامل مع العزلة بسخرية مؤلمة في ظل ظروف خارجة عن السيطرة
غير أن الوضع في الجزيرة لا يبقى كما هو ففجأة يلتقي بمصطافين يظن في فترة ما إنهم متواطئون مع الشرطة وإنه ملاحق غير أن من بينهم إمرأة تجذبه لمراقبتها وتبدو تلك الفتاة مثل أملا للروح تحييه�� ، يقترب منها ، يزرع لها حديقة من الورد يود لو يركع تحت ركبتيها ، لكن الأمر ليس بتلك السهولة فلا الجزيزة تلك الجزيرة ولا البشر هم أؤلئك البشر ..
من المهم هنا أن نقف على وقت كتابة الرواية وإنه حدث في أربعينيات القرن العشرين وذلك قبل عام واحد من بدء البث التيلفزيوني وانتشار العرض في كل بيت أمريكي وهنا المفاجأة في هذا النص ربط الحكاية بالصور والمشاهد السينمائية والتي كانت الوسيلة الأمثل لتجسيد فكرة الخلود .. هل الصورة تشعر بوجودنا كما نشعر بوجودها هل هؤلاء بشر حقيقيون بقدر ما نحن حقيقيون لكن من يخبرنا بأننا حقيقيون فعلا .. إن فكرة الخلود لا يمكن أن تتحقق إلا بوسيلتين الصورة والكلمة وكلاهما تحقق في اختراع موريل فهناك المشاهد التي خلدها موريل في جهاز عرضه وهناك يوميات بطل الحكاية .. لقد ربط كاساريس مسألة الخلود بهذين الأمرين وجعل الأمر يبدو واقعا في المنطقة ما بين الهلوسة والواقع غير أن فكرة الموت هو أمر واقع والإلتحاق بالحبيبة قد يخفف من وطأة هذا الأمر ( الموت الذي أصبح مستحيلا بعد أن رأيت هذه المرأة)
وهكذا تكون المرأة هي الحياة وهي أيضا جزء هام من فكرة الخلود ..
يتيح لك الكاتب أيضا أن ترى الأمر مجرد هلوسة رجل محموم ومحكوم بالأعدام في قوله في أول الحكاية ( مريضا أهلوس .. ضائعا في الرعب ) نعم قد لا يتعدى الأمر مسألة هلوسة ولكن بلاشك لن ترتضي مثل هذه الفكرة .. الكتابة في الخيال العلمي يجب إنجازه بشكل يتحدى فيه ذكاء القارىء أن يكون متجددا أن يقدم لك أفكارا غير مسبوقة وكاساريس حين كتب هذا النص في ذلك الوقت أثناء الحرب العالمية الثانية وأثناء ما كانت الصورة تتحرك في كل بيت كتب نصا بفكرة غير مسبوقة
.. ويبدو أن تعلقه بصورة إحدى الممثلات كان ملهمة لهذا الحد من الإنجاز الأدبي
إن شخصية الهارب في هذا النص هو شخص تستولي عليه أفكار محبطة نبرته نبرة الشكوى والتظلم ، شخص يعاني من حالة من اليأس وفقدان الثقة بالآخر لذلك تجده يتماهى مع صورة إمرأة لدرجة الركوع لدرجة الشعور بالغيرة .. نبرة تجتاحها الأمل برؤية المرأة لكنها تخبو وتتقوقع في خانة الإحباط حين لا يعدو الأمر أكثر من مجرد صورة
صورة المرأة وهي تتأمل ، امرأة جميلة تلبس وشاحا تجلس على الصخور المطلة على المحيط ، تقرأ كتابا تراقب غروب الشمس لهو مشهد يوحي بالنهاية
لكنه في هذه الرواية الصغيرة كان الجزء الأهم من البداية ، موريل يراقب اختراعه من على بعد يحقق اهدافه مبتسما بلا شك ، في محاولة تأجيل الموت والحياة داخل صورة ! ولأنه حقق أهدافه ظهر الكتاب بعنوان اختراع موريل مما يؤكد على انتصار الصورة في النهاية .. فالصورة تبقى دائما
قرأت هذه الرواية القصيرة بمتعة خالصة على جهاز الموبايل في مطار الكويت
February 16, 2020
I read this as it was short and I needed a break from a rather difficult history book. It was an interesting read to say the least. I came to the end and thought that it was maybe an analogy for purgatory or something to do with being in a state of dying. Then I read the wiki and a few reviews and can only say “What would I know?” Not much.
March 31, 2022
Como cuando Robinson Crusoe es ahora prófugo y termina ocultándose por casualidad en la isla del Dr. Moreau; mientras tanto, se aventura a explorar el lugar en el que se encuentra. El descubrimiento: la mejor parte.
Bueno, pero hablando seriamente, he de decir que La invención de Morel es toda una grata experiencia lectora, y que no me atrevo a hablar del argumento por miedo a revelar algo que no debería. Lo evidente: el título me recordó inmediatamente a la novela de H. G. Wells, La isla del doctor Moreau, y no es de extrañar, ya que el autor se inspiró en tal libro para darle nombre a su obra. Además, el personaje anónimo que se presenta como un fugitivo y que tiene que vivir aparentemente solo en una isla, me hizo recordar profundamente a Robinson Crusoe, especialmente por ese cúmulo de reflexiones acerca de lo que implica la vida en soledad, la supervivencia y el hecho de estar vivo a pesar de las circunstancias que lo rodean.
Cuando nuestro nuevo Robinson Crusoe descubre que en realidad no está solo en la isla, que hay alguien más en ella, es cuando toda la magia de esta novela comienza —comienza desde antes, pero al punto fuerte me refiero— y nos vemos enfrentados a un nuevo mundo de posibilidades; lo que ocurrirá de aquí en adelante queda en el futuro lector descubrirlo, pero les aseguro que valdrá absolutamente la pena.
Sin duda, una lectura fascinante de principio a fin.
“Los hombres no han venido todavía a buscarme. Tal vez no vengan esta noche. Tal vez esta mujer sea para todo tan asombrosa y no les haya referido mi aparición. La noche es oscura. Conozco bien la isla: no temo a un ejército, si me busca de noche.”
Bueno, pero hablando seriamente, he de decir que La invención de Morel es toda una grata experiencia lectora, y que no me atrevo a hablar del argumento por miedo a revelar algo que no debería. Lo evidente: el título me recordó inmediatamente a la novela de H. G. Wells, La isla del doctor Moreau, y no es de extrañar, ya que el autor se inspiró en tal libro para darle nombre a su obra. Además, el personaje anónimo que se presenta como un fugitivo y que tiene que vivir aparentemente solo en una isla, me hizo recordar profundamente a Robinson Crusoe, especialmente por ese cúmulo de reflexiones acerca de lo que implica la vida en soledad, la supervivencia y el hecho de estar vivo a pesar de las circunstancias que lo rodean.
Cuando nuestro nuevo Robinson Crusoe descubre que en realidad no está solo en la isla, que hay alguien más en ella, es cuando toda la magia de esta novela comienza —comienza desde antes, pero al punto fuerte me refiero— y nos vemos enfrentados a un nuevo mundo de posibilidades; lo que ocurrirá de aquí en adelante queda en el futuro lector descubrirlo, pero les aseguro que valdrá absolutamente la pena.
Sin duda, una lectura fascinante de principio a fin.
“Los hombres no han venido todavía a buscarme. Tal vez no vengan esta noche. Tal vez esta mujer sea para todo tan asombrosa y no les haya referido mi aparición. La noche es oscura. Conozco bien la isla: no temo a un ejército, si me busca de noche.”
December 17, 2017
“Perhaps we always want the person we love to have the existence of a ghost.”
The Invention of Morel is a deceptively slender novella, one which examines weighty psychological and philosophical concerns with great tenderness, delicacy and melancholy grace. It covers much intriguing ground; topics under discussion include solitude, love, the desire for immortality, and the ways in which human beings relate and grow attached to one another. While technically satisfying the requirements of inventive science fiction or even a suspenseful adventure tale, it’s far richer and more thoughtful than any of those hopelessly inadequate labels can possibly convey. Its purity of spirit and gentle elegance bear it aloft, allowing it to transcend every genre you might be tempted to force it into. It is, quite simply, a lovely, wistful, enchanting work of art, luminous, elusive, evocative, and profound.
And I suppose that, at its heart, what makes this hauntingly beautiful story so very precious is that it illustrates exquisitely the notion that, in many ways, it is far more sublime to love than to be loved.
A genuinely innovative, poignant vision, this book will stay with you long after you've placed it back on the shelf.
November 18, 2018
Ένας ναυαγός/κατάδικος (ίσως) βρίσκεται σε ένα ερημικό νησί όπου υπάρχει μια πισίνα, ένα μουσείο και ένα παρεκκλήσι... Τίποτε άλλο.. Κάποια στιγμή αρχίζουν να εμφανίζονται κάποια πρόσωπα. Αυτά!!! Είναι αρκετά για να ξέρει κάποιος πριν ακουμπήσει "Την εφεύρεση του Μορέλ".
Ολόκληρη η κριτική στην Λέσχη του Βιβλίου:
http://www.λέσχη.gr/forum/showthread....
Ολόκληρη η κριτική στην Λέσχη του Βιβλίου:
http://www.λέσχη.gr/forum/showthread....
February 21, 2017
Αγάπησα τα πάντα, το καθετί που αποτελεί αυτή την μαγική νουβέλα μα πιο πολύ το μυαλό, την ψυχή και την πένα του Κασσάρες.
April 16, 2018
"η εφευρεση του Μορελ", ή αλλιως πως γραφεται ενα αριστουργημα σε 150 σελιδες.απλα εκπληκτικο.Σκοτεινο, πρωτοτυπο, φιλοσοφικο, αγωνιωδες.ΑΨΟΓΟ! διαβαστε το!
"LOST", i see what you did there...😂😱
"LOST", i see what you did there...😂😱
January 27, 2013
Lacking in the satirical surrealism found in his later (and some say lesser) NYRB book Asleep in the Sun, unfortunately this one failed to sustain my attention despite forty pages of anticipatory eagerness. The narrator, nameless, mooches around an island spying on a gypsy woman and is evicted from her presence by bearded Frenchmen. Naturally, she is beautiful, naturally he falls in love with her, then something happens to do with photographs and people dying and I didn’t understand most of it, due to the absence of an interesting character or situation or compelling narrative style, and too much technical-contraption-waffle of the kind found in the most boring nouveau roman stuff.
April 15, 2010
Floating Reviews and the Television Show Lost
I just went through my update feed looking to see what my goodreads.com friends have been doing. I see reviews and things I should pay some attention to, but I'm not quite that self-reflexive yet that I will write reviews only about what I'm doing at the moment on goodreads.com. Instead I would like to make an observation of how my goodreads.com update feed mirrors this book.
For the past few days just about every morning and early evening that I check my update feed, or my homepage, or whatever we want to call it; there is one review that is always somewhere in the mix and match of reviews, comments and assorted other doings of my 'friends'. It's like my homepage was on a perpetual loop. Blah blah more blah, oh that review with the same sad 2 votes, more blah, some other blah..... later blah, blah, oh that review, blah blah blah.....morning..... blah review with the same two votes blah blah blah..... and on and on I suspect this will go until more people are forced to enjoy the review just so that it will stop being floated on to their update feeds. Normally I might ignore gratuitous floating of reviews (for those not in the David-inspired lingo, floating is when you 'edit' one of your reviews, maybe without actually even changing anything just so that it gets put back in the update feeds. The idea being that some of your friends may have missed it, and you want those friends to have the chance to read your very important opinions, thoughts, humorous little quips you thought up, long parenthetical asides, etc., there are different philosophical viewpoints about what is an appropriate number of 'floats' per review versus the age of the review), but I'm seeing this particular relatively unvoted for review that I'm starting to think that there must be something metaphysically fucked up going on, because why would someone keep putting up a review that apparently no one cares about, that would just be masochistic if you care about votes and shit and might take it personally when no one bothers to vote.
I'm going for the former, something metaphysically is fucked up, and part of my life is on repeat, like in Groundhog's Day, or that movie with Adam Sandler (which might be Groundhog's Day, but I'm fairly certain that starred Bill Murray), but without being able to exhibit any kind of freewill or act on the repetition I am now an unwilling part in, like I can go do other things, but everything else is going to happen exactly as before, or maybe not everything, but at least this one thing, this one fucking review that will just keep floating back up morning and evening, and I must confront it over and over again, sort of like Waiting for Godot but with only one act but repeated forever.
That is sort of the premise of this book, and did I mention that it takes place on an island, and that there are a few things that seem sort of similar to that annoyingly addictive show on ABC that is thankfully wrapping up in the next few weeks? I wish that the story of this book was mixed with the plot of The Third Policeman and that was what the whole big 'meaning' of Lost really was. How much more satisfying would it be if the whole premise revolved around following a Louise Brooks look alike around and pining over her as unattainable and having to relive that unattainability forever and ever..... yeah it would involved a much different show, but it is a love interest that I would be so much more behind than yet another reiteration of the Jack-Sawyer-Kate silliness that has been replaying like an unpopular review that just won't die.
So anyway, this book I liked. It is mentioned at some point in Lost, which is in it's final season on ABC and which I personally stopping caring about roughly two seasons ago, but like a bad car accident I just can't avert my gaze from it. But there isn't too much in this review proper, but whatever, I'll float this motherfucker till I get a gazillion votes if I have to.
I just went through my update feed looking to see what my goodreads.com friends have been doing. I see reviews and things I should pay some attention to, but I'm not quite that self-reflexive yet that I will write reviews only about what I'm doing at the moment on goodreads.com. Instead I would like to make an observation of how my goodreads.com update feed mirrors this book.
For the past few days just about every morning and early evening that I check my update feed, or my homepage, or whatever we want to call it; there is one review that is always somewhere in the mix and match of reviews, comments and assorted other doings of my 'friends'. It's like my homepage was on a perpetual loop. Blah blah more blah, oh that review with the same sad 2 votes, more blah, some other blah..... later blah, blah, oh that review, blah blah blah.....morning..... blah review with the same two votes blah blah blah..... and on and on I suspect this will go until more people are forced to enjoy the review just so that it will stop being floated on to their update feeds. Normally I might ignore gratuitous floating of reviews (for those not in the David-inspired lingo, floating is when you 'edit' one of your reviews, maybe without actually even changing anything just so that it gets put back in the update feeds. The idea being that some of your friends may have missed it, and you want those friends to have the chance to read your very important opinions, thoughts, humorous little quips you thought up, long parenthetical asides, etc., there are different philosophical viewpoints about what is an appropriate number of 'floats' per review versus the age of the review), but I'm seeing this particular relatively unvoted for review that I'm starting to think that there must be something metaphysically fucked up going on, because why would someone keep putting up a review that apparently no one cares about, that would just be masochistic if you care about votes and shit and might take it personally when no one bothers to vote.
I'm going for the former, something metaphysically is fucked up, and part of my life is on repeat, like in Groundhog's Day, or that movie with Adam Sandler (which might be Groundhog's Day, but I'm fairly certain that starred Bill Murray), but without being able to exhibit any kind of freewill or act on the repetition I am now an unwilling part in, like I can go do other things, but everything else is going to happen exactly as before, or maybe not everything, but at least this one thing, this one fucking review that will just keep floating back up morning and evening, and I must confront it over and over again, sort of like Waiting for Godot but with only one act but repeated forever.
That is sort of the premise of this book, and did I mention that it takes place on an island, and that there are a few things that seem sort of similar to that annoyingly addictive show on ABC that is thankfully wrapping up in the next few weeks? I wish that the story of this book was mixed with the plot of The Third Policeman and that was what the whole big 'meaning' of Lost really was. How much more satisfying would it be if the whole premise revolved around following a Louise Brooks look alike around and pining over her as unattainable and having to relive that unattainability forever and ever..... yeah it would involved a much different show, but it is a love interest that I would be so much more behind than yet another reiteration of the Jack-Sawyer-Kate silliness that has been replaying like an unpopular review that just won't die.
So anyway, this book I liked. It is mentioned at some point in Lost, which is in it's final season on ABC and which I personally stopping caring about roughly two seasons ago, but like a bad car accident I just can't avert my gaze from it. But there isn't too much in this review proper, but whatever, I'll float this motherfucker till I get a gazillion votes if I have to.
August 24, 2015
I see Faustine....
....but she doesn't see me.
I speak, halting, tortured words....
....but her gaze never shifts.
I build her a garden, a hint of my love....
....but she walks through it.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
I hold the glass by the stem, hard against the table. My wrist works, making the liquid swirl. I breathe it in. So often, I miss the notes. I guess wrong. I keep quiet at tastings.
So here.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
No, that won't do.
Let me tell you of my wrong guesses and dead ends.
I tasted the name: Faustine, Faustine. So like Durrell's Justine, no? A voyeur's love. But Durrell wrote later. I searched for Faust. Did I find him in Morel, who came here too, to perpetuate man? Sometimes I just don't trust my palate.
Morel, that bastard. He walked through my garden, Faustine following. Oh, don't let your children destroy it. But Lowry came later, too.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
So Casares must stand on his own. Alone with his 'fascination' with Louise Brooks.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
I am alone. The others - the 'tourists' - are not real. Not anymore. I see them because of Morel's 'invention'. A kind of immortality. I can see them. But they can't see me. I have escaped. But I am still imprisoned.
Trapped:
....but she doesn't see me.
I speak, halting, tortured words....
....but her gaze never shifts.
I build her a garden, a hint of my love....
....but she walks through it.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
I hold the glass by the stem, hard against the table. My wrist works, making the liquid swirl. I breathe it in. So often, I miss the notes. I guess wrong. I keep quiet at tastings.
So here.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
No, that won't do.
Let me tell you of my wrong guesses and dead ends.
I tasted the name: Faustine, Faustine. So like Durrell's Justine, no? A voyeur's love. But Durrell wrote later. I searched for Faust. Did I find him in Morel, who came here too, to perpetuate man? Sometimes I just don't trust my palate.
Morel, that bastard. He walked through my garden, Faustine following. Oh, don't let your children destroy it. But Lowry came later, too.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
So Casares must stand on his own. Alone with his 'fascination' with Louise Brooks.
_____ _____ _____ _____ _____
I am alone. The others - the 'tourists' - are not real. Not anymore. I see them because of Morel's 'invention'. A kind of immortality. I can see them. But they can't see me. I have escaped. But I am still imprisoned.
Trapped:
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