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Language:Slovenščina | Number of Pages: 128 | Format: Hardcover | In other languages: (other languages) English , Chi traditional , German , Spanish

Isbn-10: 8611173090 | Isbn-13: 9788611173092 | Publish date:  | Edition 1

Category: Fiction & Literature , Philosophy , Religion & Spirituality

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Book Description
Mit o Atlasu in Heraklu
»Izbira snovi za zgodbo je – podobno kot izbira ljubimke ali ljubimca – zelo intimna odločitev. Ko so me povabili, naj izberem mit in pišem o njem, sem se zavedela, da sem že izbrala. Zgodba o Atlasu, ki na svojih plečih nosi svet, je bila v mojih mislih, še preden sem odložila telefonsko slušalko.Če klica ne bi bilo, se je nemara nikoli ne bi lotila. Ko pa je zazvonil telefon, je zgodba že čakala, da jo napišem. Na novo napišem. Ponavljajoči se besedni motiv v Teži je ‘zgodbo želim povedati znova’.

Zadnje čase večina ljudi z naravnost grozljivo slastjo hlasta po nečem, čemur pravijo resničnost, pa naj gre za resničnostne televizijske šove, za drugorazredno, suhoparno dokumentaristično prozo ali v najboljšem primeru za televizijske dokumentarne filme, biografije in ‘resnične zgodbe’, ki so zasedli prostor, kjer je nekoč kraljevala domišljija.

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  • 5

    <<The free man never thinks of escape. In the beginning there was nothing. Not even space and time. You could have thrown the universe at me and I would have caught it in one hand. There was no ...continue

    <<The free man never thinks of escape. In the beginning there was nothing. Not even space and time. You could have thrown the universe at me and I would have caught it in one hand. There was no universe. It was easy to bear. This happy nothing ended fifteen aeons ago. It was a strange time, and what I know is told to me in radioactive whispers; that’s all there is left of one great shout into the silence.

    What is it that you contain? The dead. Time. Light patterns of millennia opening in your gut. Every minute, in each of you, a few million potassium atoms succumb to radioactive decay. The energy that powers these tiny atomic events has been locked inside potassium atoms ever since a star-sized bomb exploded nothing into being. Potassium, like uranium and radium, is a long-lived radioactive nuclear waste of the supernova bang that accounts for you. Your first parent was a star.

    It was hot as hell in those days. It was Hell, if hell is where the life we love cannot exist. Those ceaseless burning fires and volcanic torments are lodged in us as ultimate fear. The hells we invent are the hells we have known. Hell is; was not, is not, cannot. Science calls it the world before life began — the Hadean period. But life had begun, because life is more than the ability to reproduce. In the molten lava spills and cratered rocks, life longed for life. The proto, the almost, the maybe. Not Venus. Not Mars. Earth. Planet Earth, that wanted life so badly, she got it.

    Moving forward a few billion years, there was a miracle. At least that’s what I call the unexpected fact that changes the story. Earth had bacterial life, but no oxygen, and oxygen was a deadly poison. Then, in a quiet revolution as explosive in its own way as a star, a new kind of bacteria, cyanobacteria started to photosynthesise — and a bi-product of photosynthesis is oxygen. Planet earth had a new atmosphere. The rest is history.

    Well not quite. I could list for you the wild optimism of the Cambrian era, pushing up mountains like grass grows daisies, or the Silurian dream-days of starfish and gastropods. About 400 million years ago, shaking salt water from their fins and scales, the first land animals climbed out of the warm lagoons of the vast coral reefs. The Triassic and Jurassic periods belong to the dinosaurs, efficient murder weapons, common as nightmares. Then three or four million years ago — chancy and brand new — what’s this come here — a mammoth and something like a man? * * *

    The earth was amazed. Earth was always strange and new to herself. She never anticipated what she would do next. She never guessed the coming wonder. She loved the risk, the randomness, the lottery probability of a winner. We forget, but she never did, that what we take for granted is the success story. The failures have disappeared. This planet that seems so obvious and inevitable is the jackpot. Earth is the blue ball with the winning number on it.

    Make a list. Look around you. Rock, sand, soil, fruit trees, roses, spiders, snails, frogs, fish, cattle, horses, rainfall, sunshine, you and me. This is the grand experiment called life. What could be more unexpected?

    All the stories are here, silt-packed and fossil-stored. The book of the world opens anywhere, chronology is one method only and not the best. Clocks are not time. Even radioactive rock-clocks, even gut-spun DNA, can only tell time like a story.

    When the universe exploded like a bomb, it started ticking like a bomb too. We know our sun will die, in another hundred million years or so, then the lights will go out and there will be no light to read by any more. ‘Tell me the time’ you say. And what you really say is ‘Tell me a story.’ Here’s one I haven’t been able to put down.>>

    <<I am good at walking away. REjection teaches you how to reject. I left my hometown, left my parents, left my life. I made a home and a life elsewhere, more than once. I stayed on the run. Why then, did the burden feel intolerable? What was it that I carried? I realise that the future, though invisible, has weight. We are in the gravitational pull of past and future. It takes huge energy - speed-of-light power - to break that gravitational pull. How many of us ever get free of our orbit? We tease ourself with fancy notions of free will and self-help courses that direct our lives. We believe we can be our own miracle, and just a lottery win or Mr Right will make the world new. The ancients believed in Fate because they recognised how hard it is for anyone to change anything. The pull of past and future is so strong that the present is crushed by it. We lie helpless in the force of patterns inherited and patterns re-enacted by our own behaviour. The burden is intolerable.>>

    <<There are two facts that all children need to disprove sooner or later; mother and father. If you go on believing in the fiction of your own parents, it is difficult to construct any narrative of your own. In a way I was lucky. I could not allow my parents to be the facts of my life. Their version of the story was one I could read but now write. I had to tell the story again. I am not a Freudian. I don't believe I can mine the strata of the past and drill out the fault-lines. There have been too much weathering; ice ages, glacial erosion, meteor impact, plant life, dinosaurs.>>

    <<If only I understood that the globe itself, complete, perfect, unique, is a story. Science is a story. History is a story. These are the stories we tell ourself to make ourself come true.

    What am I? Atoms. What are atoms? Empty space and points of light. What is the speed of light? 300,000 kilometres per second. What is a second? That depends where in the Universe you set your watch.>>

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  • *** This comment contains spoilers! ***

    4

    很好的散文與視角

    小書一本,跟愛特伍的"潘妮洛普"比起來好得多。界限即是身體的觀點很棒,結局更棒,可是作者好不容易挑了個好視角,卻沒跟著深入討論,結果就只留在了表層,甚至會讓人懷疑有點賣弄。

    雖說如此,在其中幾段之中明顯看出作者認真起來的時候散文語言超強。我越來越無可避免地尊敬起散文作家。

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  • 2

    這本書我看得有一些疑惑.不知道是作者在耍我們,還是譯者的文筆差,還是出版社在出版前連評估看看都沒有就付梓了.

    這本書到底是怎麼回事?

    你玩過那種腦力激盪說故事接龍的遊戲嗎?這整本書就像是作者自己,赫丘力士及亞特拉斯三個人在說故事接龍一般的對話.東拉西扯的沒啥關聯性.沒什麼情節,更沒什麼高潮起伏.有時候一段句子中會插入一些讓人摸不著腦袋的話.不知道作者這樣安排的用意是什麼.隨手翻個例如:第 67 頁:"拉冬叫他回家.要是他真的回家呢?要是他真的走出園子不再回頭呢?他可以找艘船,換個名字,把赫丘力士當成過往雲煙抛諸腦後.就像拉冬,雜草長了,牠留下的痕跡自然慢慢消失." 哇咧,主角在考慮要不要回頭,那雜草長了這兩句話是跟這事兒是什麼關係啊?

    我看了這麼多年的書,還真是難得遇到一本這麼難看的書.

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  • 2

    對我來說,算是意外在少數詮釋神話的方式中
    我比較討厭的一種
    某方面來說,我覺得這本作品對於作者的意義比其他讀者大 ...continue

    對我來說,算是意外在少數詮釋神話的方式中
    我比較討厭的一種
    某方面來說,我覺得這本作品對於作者的意義比其他讀者大
    這屬於她對於亞特拉斯神話的想像與憧憬
    這些觀念建立在她的生活夢境與思想當中
    而不是人類共通的記憶之上
    所以,我覺得這應該比較接近文學作品
    而非客觀詮釋神話甚至主觀解釋神話
    這算是神話的重新創造
    可是作者並沒有提供讓我認同的依據
    因此對我來說它只是一本小說

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  • 4

    對我來說,將神話或原始生活引介到生命經驗的卑微時刻,這種文學形式可以帶領我,去蕪存菁。生命的源頭都是偉大,但是透過現代成就去細看,那不過是一個粒子,放大是透過歷史與實驗的作用。那偉大的粒子,不曾卑微過,永遠在那源頭,成就需要一個固定的位子,所以他就在那裡。但是成就產生的慾望不需要位子,它需要時間的能動性將之推到無遠弗屆。以至於忘了生成的意義,還在古老的歲月裡,不曾變化。所謂的真實,只是連續被廣播的資料,只是某些集體想重複的事情,藉由越來越多的方式,可以知道粒子的解釋與形體,也越來越多時候那變成既定的知識故事,沒有人要去想像,古老的源頭,還可以看見我們卑微的影子。

    多少年以前,一個符號就是人,多少年的時光,人無限作用着,與其他符號作用着,如今某些符號被支使,超過生成而取代,必須把故事重講一遍。

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