Literary brutality
May 10th, 2023
I gave up after reading about half of this book. It happens to me that I give up on reading halfway through when I know that reading a particular book becomes a chore or I know that what I read is too ridiculous for my taste and knowledge or when I get bored. Or rather when a book gets boring. But in this case, it was for a different reason — this book started to have a visible negative influence on my well-being. And that has never happened to me before. I have never read a book that made me squirm in my seat with discomfort and made me a jittery and manic mess. And yet, I kept reading it, until I made a decision to abandon reading it anymore.
It is not like I had no warning — and not from reviews and opinions about this book — I read those afterward after the book in question was safely put aside. It was from the first page that the unbelievable brutality of humanity and human lot and human destiny was not only apparent, but it was hitting me right in my face. Page after page, punch after punch directly at my mind and at my gut. I felt like a contender for a title being toyed with by a heavyweight champion — wobbly and dazed but still coming up for more abuse. I continued reading, not only wanting to know more about how the present situation will end but mostly because of the skill of the author. And that is what I want to take away from this furtive attempt — László Krasznahorkai is an amazing conjurer of word magic, even as he is describing wallowing in the utmost filth and desperation known to humans. And for all his skill, the raw brutality was too much for me. I don't mind reading difficult books on difficult subjects, but this was too much. For my sake and for my sanity, I stopped. And I think right in time — as what I already read is still following my thoughts…
