Nació en Santiago de Chile. Procedente de familia acomodada. Estudió en la Universidad de Chile y Princeton. En publica “Coronación”. Coronacion by Jose Donoso, , available at Book Depository with free delivery worldwide. La voz que narra este relato, fluye infatigable de los labios de Mudito, como en un viaje desde el ser hacia la nada, elaborando un mundo destinado, por la.
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There is a joze cast of characters and I’ll name just a few: Frankly, this enumeration does injustice to the immense complexity of the book, it is bland and sterile, just like the book is rich and full of meaning. The narrator is omniscient, omnipresent, it impersonates almost every character in this book, sometimes in the course of the same sentence. The point of view shifts abruptly, like a ray of light bouncing from a rough crystal.
After some time I started to follow the change in character more quickly, which was a relief. They seem like a row of empty houses, the deserted setting of a movie, in which a single mad janitor enters donosl randomly and, for a moment, infuses them with coronacjon.
Just as the narrator’s voice passes from one character to another in a chaotic manner, also their personalities undergo several changes: It is not a radical transformation, it is just perceived as such: Past and present seem to cohabitate, as if the hands of a witch has confused time, breaking its coronwcion and arranging the segments in parallel.
There are some parts of pure obscenity, raw, sickening images in this book. But there are also parts of pure beauty: There are the phantom-like old maids who populate the House, with their habit of hiding trifles under their beds, with the strength they’ve gained through their decrepitude, with the power they have over their former masters, by knowing their filth and their weaknesses.
There is the haunting story of the monstrous Boy, who was surrounded by a world of deformed people just like himself, thus reversing the meaning of normality and beauty. The whole novel is infused with the myth of the Imbunche, even the House is transformed gradually into one, as the windows are bricked-up, rooms and corridors hidden under false walls, as if they never existed.
There is a continuous switch between inside and outside, dream and reality. There are so many mind-blowing details in The Obscene Bird of Night that I almost tend to forget the bad parts because they were, too. I have a lot of other things to say, but I would never finish this review. Maybe I’ll come back and add some more thoughts Anyway, I wish I had someone to discuss it with, it would take some hours and a couple of beers to turn the matters on all sides.
I don’t regret the time spent reading it, that’s for sure. Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read. Want to Read saving…. Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. Kindle Editionpages. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. Lists with This Book. This book is not yet featured on Listopia.
View all 4 comments. A donpso that deserves much wider readership. Looking at some reviews around the place for this and noting the struggles some seemed to have had, I wanted to in a non-spoilery way set out how I would propose approaching the reading of this incredible book.
José Donoso – Wikipedia
Humberto meets and is employ Absolutely incredible. Humberto meets and is employed by Jeronimo, has sex with his wife while J fucks Peta, is punished by being surgically mutilated and castrated and becomes Mudito and who then, due to his lacking genitals, becomes the seventh “old woman” in the Casa etc etc and all the stuff in Book 1 take place The point is that there is only one, though its incarnation, its performed self, its sense of its own being and other’s interactions with it moves between a number of contradictory forms.
The explanations for the fluidity of the “I” of the novel are there and who is whoif one keeps ones eyes open for them: I’m gonna dress you up, then. Romualdo gives me a pair of flowered cotton trousers. I pull them on.
All of us dissolved in the darkness inside the mask. Now, besides lacking a voice, I’m sightless, but no, there’s a slot here in the Giant’s neck to see through. Sometimes I feel sorry for persons like you, Mother Benita, who are enslaved to one face and one name and one function and one station in life, to the clinging coronaciln you’ll never be able to shed, to the oneness that holds you prisoner in a single identity. Those who came to warm themselves at my fire, on the other hand, fluctuate like its flames and its shadows, they take me into their number benevolently, now that I’ve burned my name forever, lost my voice a long time ago, no longer have a sex because I can be just another old woman among all those in the Casa.
Your confusion as a reader of the text is deliberately engendered, and should be enjoyed rather than fought against. Narrowing down the novel to a single strand, or to “what actually happened” is to entirely defeat its point – chaos and flux, contradiction, a Rhizome even perhaps.
The fluidity of subjectivity. To privilege one persona Humberto over the others is to do a disservice to the text something both xonoso blurbs and many reviews often do.
I have been told by a reader of the original that the prose is a wonder. In which case we must give thanks to our translators because I had a similar response to the English-ed. Breathtaking at times, disturbing, funny, beautiful. What more could anyone want? It hides fear that prefers to transform itself into the stone monsters rather than remain untold and become nothing.
So many layers that never truly let us in on their terrifying secrets Old, moth-eaten women They say Old, moth-eaten women and their sacrilegious murmur, always waiting for the final night that repeatedly fails to fall – how ungodly coronacjon monstrous sanctity is, their world of hushed rosaries, ravings and obsessions, their stories full of snarling beasts and witchcraft, teaching children how the greatest terrors are born.
Time folds over and over again, bending its numerous fragments and twisting them into peculiar shapes. Monstrous anatomies pose as normality, aberrations turn into a triumph.
How many reasons can a person think of to withdraw from the world? How many ways joxe we invent to bind ourselves to it and revive our fallen hope? Decrepit souls flatter the aptness of their tired wings, let themselves be lost in this never-ending danse macabre of fantastical proportions View all 22 comments.
Coronation () – IMDb
The perfect review of The Obscene Bird of Night would actually be this. This was NOT what the back of the book promised–the story of an aristocrat who “protects” his deformed child by imprisoning him in a world of monsters.
Sure, that was in there, but the primary story is driven by the narrator s?? While the entire book is disturbingly captivating–really, like a nightmare–there is one scene, the most horrendously bizarre, twisted scene I’ve ever read, that will forever haunt me. I’m not brave enough to describe it Identity, Imprisonment, Reality vs. I really don’t think this book is going to leave me alone for quite a while The natural inheritance of everyone who is capable of spiritual life is an unsubdued forest where the wolf howls and the obscene bird of night chatters.
View all 8 comments. About a hundred pages in, there is a scene where a shriveled elderly dwarf woman pretends to be the baby for an obese partially retarded teenage girl and the relationship between the two quickly turns disturbingly sexual.
Because it sets the tone for what this novel is like better than saying probably everything I’m going to say. This novel is a mess. It’s disturbing and beautiful and grotesque and horrific, but it’s also a mess. Someone could probably go through book with a fin About a hundred pages in, there is a scene where a shriveled elderly dwarf woman pretends to be the baby for an obese partially retarded teenage girl and the relationship between the two quickly turns disturbingly sexual.
Someone could probably go through book with a fine tooth comb and untangle the mess of chronology, points of view and who in fact is the narrator coronqcion who is the I in each and every scene. I have a feeling that if you cared enough to do all coronacino this that the answer you’d find would be very unsatisfactory.
Like it wouldn’t make much difference who was the I, what the real order of josee events were, and whatever else confuses the reader, that there would coronaion be these massive fucking sinkholes and abysses to a perfect understanding of even the simple narrative question of what happened.
That is not a criticism of the book, maybe just at a particular way of reading this particular novel. But I don’t mean it as a criticism. What follows is my reading of the novel. But they are interpretational spoilers. You will probably read this book differently. Each of us probably will, at least until a Harold Bloom type lets us know what is the correct way to read the book, and then we will all read it that way.
The only reliable parts of the novel are the first and last chapters. With this in mind two out of thirty chapters are based in reality what a silly thing to say about a novel, reality as opposed to what?
Out with the ugly red pen and slash that line and give me the lowest possible grade one can get for turning in a paper filled with bullshitand that means that everything on the back of the book josw. Or it’s not reliable. Coronaciln might never have happened. The story therefore is that of an old woman who dies in a decrepit convent that is no longer a home for nuns but for old women who were once servants but who no longer have anyone to take care of them.
The old woman dies and her funeral is the last mass said in the convents chapel before it is decommissioned by an Arch-Bishop. The convent is going to shortly be demolished and the donlso women are going to be moved to modern facilities, instead conoso living in a run down building with no resources. The remaining twenty eight chapters of the book are a mishmash of dreams of the women residing in the convent, jos deaf mute handyman and convent itself through the family that built and maintained it.
Like dreams there can be foronacion awful lot that is true and there can be just as much if not more that is only the projection of imagination, desires and wishes. Each chapter explodes the chapters preceding. There are no narrative unfurlings, no resolution, because the novel moves on by re-writing it’s own history, by ignoring and re-imagining what might have come before, by following an inherent logic that falls apart and expires after every nuanced instance donosl is deployed.
Which is what this novel is in my readingand as in any dream worthy of being called a dream, there are more threads than one can consciously count are there two or three major story coronscion