I Who Have Never Known Men

Su

This was the first time I'd listened closely, and I was surprised at how much they had to say, the passion with which they repeated the same thing in ten different ways so as to avoid accepting that they'd had absolutely nothing to say to one another for ages. But human beings need to speak, otherwise they lose their humanity, as I've realised these past few years. And gradually, I began to feel sorry for those women determined to carry on living, pretending they were active and making decisions in the prison where they were locked up for ever, from which death was the only release – but would they remove the bodies? – and where they couldn't even kill one another.

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ilepuk

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Karşıma nasıl ve nereden çıktığını bilmediğim bu kitabı okuduğum için çok mutluyum. İlk sayfaların kafa karıştırıcı yönleri oldu ama kitabı bitirdikten sonra başa dönüp tekrar okuduğumda her şey yerine oturdu. Yine de "yeni bir dil öğrenmek bu kadar kolayken çevirilere ne gerek var" cümlesi o kadar manasız ve yersizdi ki sinirimi bozmaya devam etti. Öyle ki sadece bu cümle yüzünden bir puan kırmayı düşündüm ve kitap boyunca bu cümle aklımda yankılandıkça sinirlerim bozuldu. Ama öyle güzeldi ki be! Kitap boyunca sevgi, insan olmak, hayattaki minik zevkler, dostluk, özgürlük, kadınlık, çocukluk ve merhamet gibi pek çok kavramı sorguladım. Üstelik olayın akışı içerisinde o kadar güzel ve doğal bir şekilde sorguladım ki düşüncelerim akışı bölmedi. Karakterlerin aklındaki sorular, bizim aklımızdaki sorular asla cevaplanmadı. Korku, heyecan, umutsuzluk hiç bitmedi. Neden cevap bulamıyorum diye sinirlendim ama sonra fark ettim. Cevapsız bir deney, cevapsız bir kitap, cevapsız bir dünya, cevapsız bir hayat... Viyana high society clup üyesi, hayat nedir bilmezken buhranlarıyla kafamızı bik bik biken mal herifler, okuyun da ders alın.

I Who Have Never Known MenJacqueline Harpman · Vintage · 201910 okunma

Su

‘What do they want of us?’ I asked again. She shrugged. ‘All we know is what they don’t want.’

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Su

I was perfectly aware that I had only added another question to all the others, but it was a new one, and, in the absurd world in which I lived, and still live, that was happiness.

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Su

The alternation of day and night is merely a physical phenomenon, time is a question of being human and, frankly, how could I consider myself a human being, I who have only known thirty-nine people and all of them women? I think that time must have something to do with the duration of pregnancies, the growth of children, all those things that I haven't experienced. If someone spoke to me, there would be time, the beginning and end of what they said to me, the moment when I answered, their response. The briefest conversation creates time. Perhaps I have tried to create time through writing these pages. I begin, I fill them with words, I pile them up, and I still don't exist because nobody is reading them. I am writing them for some unknown reader who will probably never come – I am not even sure that humanity has survived that mysterious event that governed my life. But if that person comes, they will read them and I will have a time in their mind. They will have my thoughts in them. The reader and I thus mingled will constitute something living, that will not be me, because I will be dead, and will not be that person as they were before reading, because my story, added to their mind, will then become part of their thinking. I will only be truly dead if nobody ever comes, if the centuries, then the millennia go by for so long that this planet, which I no longer believe is Earth, no longer exists. As long as the sheets of paper covered in my handwriting lie on this table, I can become a reality in someone's mind. Then everything will be obliterated, the suns will burn out and I will disappear like the universe.

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