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From one of Spain's most celebrated writers, an extraordinary, inspired book-at once fiction, history, and memoir-that draws on the Sephardic diaspora, the Holocaust, and Stalin's purges to tell a twentieth-century story. Shifting seamlessly from the past to the present and following the routes of escape across countries and continents, Muñoz Molina evokes people real and imagined who come together in a richly allusive pattern-from Eugenia Ginsburg to Grete Buber-Neumann, the one on a train to the gulag, the other to a Nazi concentration camp; from a shoemaker and a nun who become lovers in a small town in Spain to Primo Levi bound for Auschwitz. And others-some well known, others unknown-all voices of separation, nostalgia, love, and endless waiting. Written with clarity of vision and passion, in a style both lyrical and accessible, Sepharad makes the experience our own. A brilliant achievement.… (mehr)
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    Die Ausgewanderten : Vier lange Erzählungen von W. G. Sebald (thorold)
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Sefarad
Antonio Muñoz Molina
Publicado: 2001 | 367 páginas
Novela Drama

En estas páginas Primo Levi, Franz Kafka, Evgenia Ginzburg, Milena Jesenska, Dolores Ibárruri o Walter Benjamin mezclan sus tragedias con las de personajes ficticios. Todos ellos comparten un estigma: un día despiertan convertidos en lo que otros cuentan de ellos, en lo que alguien que no les ha conocido cuenta que le han contado, en lo que alguien que les odia imagina que son. Perseguidos por la infamia y arrojados de su casa y de su país, se ven obligados a abandonar sus vidas. Sefarad, nombre que en la tradición hebrea se da a España, designa aquí todos los exilios posibles. El Holocausto y el nazismo, el Gulag, la guerra civil española, el Imperio austrohúngaro, la Inquisición y la expulsión de los judíos articulan a través de cada capítulo una sinfonía en la que la idea coral es una sola: la intolerancia, la persecución y la irracionalidad que asolan la historia de la humanidad, y que dan lugar al título. Antonio Muñoz Molina nos ofrece una aproximación al mundo de los excluidos a través de este homenaje a la memoria.
  libreriarofer | Aug 23, 2023 |
En estas páginas Primo Levi, Franz Kafka, Evgenia Ginzburg, Milena Jesenska, Dolores Ibárruri o Walter Benjamin mezclan sus tragedias con las de personajes ficticios. Todos ellos comparten un estigma: un día despiertan convertidos en lo que otros cuentan de ellos, en lo que alguien que no les ha conocido cuenta que le han contado, en lo que alguien que les odia imagina que son. Perseguidos por la infamia y arrojados de su casa y de su país, se ven obligados a abandonar sus vidas.Sefarad, nombre que en la tradición hebrea se da a España, designa aquí todos los exilios posibles. El Holocausto y el nazismo, el Gulag, la guerra civil española, el Imperio austrohúngaro, la Inquisición y la expulsión de los judíos articulan a través de cada capítulo una sinfonía en la que la idea coral es una sola: la intolerancia, la persecución y la irracionalidad que asolan la historia de la humanidad, y que dan lugar al título. Antonio Muñoz Molina nos ofrece una aproximación al mundo de los excluidos a través de este homenaje a la memoria.
  Natt90 | Mar 30, 2023 |
This is a book of reconstructed memories related to Madrid during the Spanish Civil War, WWII, and Stalin’s regime. It is based on eye-witness accounts from the author’s research (letters, oral history, and notable works of literature), but rather than write a non-fiction, the author ties everything together through various fictional narrators. The main characters have ties to Spain and Spanish history.

The narrative is comprised of seventeen loosely connected short stories. It is told in a non-linear fashion, moving forward and backward to different countries and time periods. The novel is structured around journeys on trains, and the stories people have told each other while traveling. Primary themes are memory, displacement, identity, and storytelling.

We encounter literary references to well-known authors such as Franz Kafka, Margarete Buber-Neumann, Evgenia Ginzburg, Jean Améry, Primo Levi, Stephan Koch, Tzvetan Todorov, and others. Their experiences are woven into the stories told on the trains. The overall effect is that of a montage of memories. As one narrator states, the idea is not to invent these stories but “to fit them together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Each became a mystery, illuminating the others, creating multiple links that I could break or modify at my whim, patterns in which no image nullified the others or gained precedence or lost its uniqueness within the whole.”

I had never read anything by Antonio Muñoz Molina. What an amazing writer. He creates a vivid sense of place, establishes atmosphere, and strings words together in a pleasing lyrical manner. I read the English translation so due credit goes to the translator, Margaret Sayers Peden. I will definitely be searching for more of his works.

My e-book is filled with highlights. Here are a few of the many memorable passages:

- “THERE’S NO LIMIT TO the surprising stories you can hear if you listen to the novels in people’s lives.”

- “At night we would watch the flickering lights of Tangiers through the ocean fog. I was in Tangiers once, many years ago, in another lifetime. As the doctor squeezes the curve of the shell, he is squeezing the hand of his son two summers before. His wife is pressed to his other side, to protect herself from the west wind off the sea, blowing from the direction of the dark mass of Africa and the lights of Tangiers, a wind smelling of seaweed.”

- “People always want to know how stories end; whether well or badly, they want the resolution to be as neat as the beginning, they want sense and symmetry. But few adventures in life tie up all the loose strings, unless fate steps in, or death, and some stories never develop, they come to nothing or are interrupted just as they are beginning.”

- “YOU ARE NOT AN isolated person and do not have an isolated story, and neither your face nor your profession nor the other circumstances of your past or present life are cast in stone. The past shifts and reforms, and mirrors are unpredictable.”

- “Who could guess the life of this man, seeing him as he crosses the street or stands in the entryway of that anonymous building? A vigorous old man with a sparkle in his small eyes, a little bent, and with very fine white hair, like Spencer Tracy toward the end, or like my paternal grandfather, who was also in a war, but not one he marched off to voluntarily, and it may be that my grandfather never completely understood why they took him or realized the magnitude of the cataclysm his life had been dragged into, a life of which mine, if I stop to think about it, is in part a distant echo.”
-
- “The war was filled with coincidences … with chains of random events that dragged you away or saved you; your life could depend not on your heroism or caution or cleverness but on whether you bent down to tighten a boot one second before a bullet or shard of shrapnel passed through the place where your head would have been, or whether a comrade took your turn in a scouting patrol from which no one came back.”

( )
  Castlelass | Oct 30, 2022 |
8420442569
  archivomorero | Jun 25, 2022 |
On page 140, the author appears to describe a vision for this book:

"For two or three years I have flirted with the idea of writing a novel, imagined situations and places, like snapshots, or like those posters displayed on large billboards at the entrance to a movie theater. That these stills were never in narrative sequence made them all the more powerful, freed them of the weight and vulgar conventions of a scenario; they were revelations in the present, with no before or after. When I didn't have the money to go inside, I would spend hours looking at the photographs outside the theater, not needing to invent a story to fit them together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Each became a mystery, illuminating the others, creating multiple links that I could break or modify at my whim, patterns in which no image nullified the others or gained precedence or lost its uniqueness within the whole."

Here, it is as if Muñoz Molina is describing not only his journey, but mine; or, as if he is describing what living is like for many of us. The journey is our life. From pages 153/154:

"Days before leaving, my life had already been turned by the magnet of my journey, pulled toward the hour of departure, which approached with agonizing slowness. I was still here yet distant, though no one noticed my absence, not from the places I lived and worked, not from the things that were extensions of myself and indicated my existence, my immobilized life, confined to a single city, to a few streets….

"Never was I so obsessed with impossible journeys as then, so distanced from myself and from the tangible and real around me. It wasn't that an important part of me was hidden from others' eyes; my whole self was hidden. The shell that others saw didn't matter at all, it had nothing to do with me. … With literary vanity, I sought refuge in being unknown, hidden, but there was a conformity in me at least as strong as my rebellion, with the difference that the conformity was practical while the rebellion showed only occasionally as a blurry discontent…"

"There were two worlds, one visible and the other invisible, and I adapted tamely to the norms of the first so I could retreat without too much inconvenience into the second."

My thoughts upon completion:

This book didn’t make me want to pick it up between readings. But why should it be the book’s responsibility to make me? It was I who needed this book, and not the other way around. And as I took my time, for weeks, reading it, I was unable to forget that need of mine. I could not find a desire to read anything else between my short sessions with Muñoz Molina’s journey in this novel. And, with each paragraph, each chapter, each page, I was filled up with his poetry of thought and his longing for memory. There was no other way for me to read this book.

His journey is a long one. His memories and reflections, his connections between one train, one place, one tense and another take time. I was surprised each time I picked it up that this book is a light 385 pages, when his travels between the book’s covers are so weighty. The traveling between past and present, between history and personal memoir, between what appears to be fiction and is known to be nonfiction, goes so very deep and so very far. After finally finishing it, I know I am still there, in those pages, almost nauseous from the whirlwind of the author’s processing. I am relieved to be done, yet I know I have to read the book again. His words and reflections resonate with an ancestral me. I have never been to Spain, though my maternal ancestors were emigrants from there. As far as I know, I have no Jewish ancestors. But over the course of my reading I ponder more and more how impossible it seems that we are not each to some degree related within the diaspora of the human soul.

As I read this I found that almost instantly – if I was not terribly distracted, and even when I was – I was drawn in as if by an old friend who by chance meets me on a street in some gray city of my past, and with an arm around my shoulders walks with me and picks up a tale he has been telling me for years. I was captured, almost against my will, and yet mesmerized, flattered and transfixed by the tale and the intimacy of the encounter. I would go into a trance.

It occurred to me fleetingly that the book I insist on writing is no longer necessary now that I have read Sepharad. It is not my book, but the journey I have taken with the author in his book has been exhaustive. And though my own memories and history are different in the details, his writing on the displacement and isolation of those whose home is lost, is not so different from what I would wish to write about, having never had a home at heart. It has made me wonder at the displacement of an individual's soul, and how the history of exile and cruelty and shadow still shines a dim beacon for all of us who might know what it means to be alienated from our own past and future.
( )
  Ccyynn | Feb 15, 2022 |
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From one of Spain's most celebrated writers, an extraordinary, inspired book-at once fiction, history, and memoir-that draws on the Sephardic diaspora, the Holocaust, and Stalin's purges to tell a twentieth-century story. Shifting seamlessly from the past to the present and following the routes of escape across countries and continents, Muñoz Molina evokes people real and imagined who come together in a richly allusive pattern-from Eugenia Ginsburg to Grete Buber-Neumann, the one on a train to the gulag, the other to a Nazi concentration camp; from a shoemaker and a nun who become lovers in a small town in Spain to Primo Levi bound for Auschwitz. And others-some well known, others unknown-all voices of separation, nostalgia, love, and endless waiting. Written with clarity of vision and passion, in a style both lyrical and accessible, Sepharad makes the experience our own. A brilliant achievement.

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