Elamuslood

teater, muusika, kunst, kirjandus, film, fotograafia, tants

where are you headed? 15. juuni 2013

Filed under: ajas ja ruumis — viinamarjad @ 19:06
Tags: , ,

Highways full of crowds going somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, nowhere.

*

Bradbury kes muu.

“Fahrenheit 451”

 

The Illustrated Man 15. aug. 2012

Filed under: ajas ja ruumis — viinamarjad @ 20:53
Tags: , ,

Ma olen suur krimisarjade fänn ja see Bradbury raamat tuli minuni läbi mu palavalt armastatud Criminal Mindsi. Jah, olin enne “The Illustated Man’ist” kuulnud, aga ei olnud mõelnud selle kätte võtmisele. Eks igal raamatul ja autoril on see õige aeg, mil ta sinuni jõudma peab. Vähemalt nii mulle meeldib mõelda.

Esimene raamat, mille lugemise ma inglise keeles ette võtsin. Olin varem selle ideega ainult flirtinud, salamisi kartes, et ei tule toime. Tulin toime ja ahhetasin iga peatüki juures nagu väike tüdruk. Kaanel seisab: Ray Bradbury has a powerful and mysterious imagination (Guardian). Ei saa seda väidet mitte kuidagi ümber lükata ja pean juurde vaid lisama, et kui tema peale satub lugeja nagu mina, kelle kujutlusvõime on rohkem kui elav, saab kokku paraja seikluse.

Lugu ise on illustreeritud mehest, ehk ülekeha tätoveeritud mehest, kelle pildid kehal päikese loojudes elama hakkavad. Jutustajaks mees, kes temaga ühel õhtupoolikul kokku juhtub ja kellega nad öömaja (parema sõna puududes jään selle juurde) palja taeva all jagavad. Iga peatükk on lugu omaette, mis viib lugeja kosmosesse ja tagasi. Ilma lugemist rikkumata ma rohkem rääkida ei saakski. Saan vaid jagada oma lemmiklõike. Lõike, mis tekitasid külmavärinaid ja omandasid minu peas hoopis uue tähenduse ja hakkasid oma elu elama:

Peatükist Kaleidoscope:

“That isn’t important,” said Hollis. And it was not. It was gone. When life is over it is like a flicker of bright film, an instant on the screen, all of its prejudices and passions condensed and illuminated for an instant on space, and before you could cry out, “There was a happy day, there a bad one, there an evil face, there a good one,” the film burned to a cinder, the screen went dark.

From this outer edge of his life, looking back, there was only one remorse, and that was only that he wished to go on living. Did all dying people feel this way, as if they had never lived? Did life seem that short, indeed, over and done before you took a breath? Did it seem this abrupt and impossible to everyone, or only to himself, here, now, with a few hours left to him for thought and deliberation?

Peatükist The Man:

Captain Hart gave him back the binoculars wearily. “Why do we do it, Martin? This space travel, I mean. Always on the go. Always searching. Our insides always tight, never any rest.”

“Maybe we’re looking for peace and quiet. Certainly there’s none on Earth,” said Martin.

“No, there’s not, is there?” Captain Hart was thoughtful, the fire damped down. “Not since Darwin, eh? Not since everything went by the board, everything we used to believe in, eh? Divine power and all that. And so you think maybe that’s why we’re going out to the stars, eh, Martin? Looking for our lost souls, is that it? Trying to get away from our evil planet to a good one?”

Peatükist No Particular Night Or Morning:

“You liked the idea of space travel? Going places?”

“I don’t know. Yes. No. It wasn’t going places. It was being between.” Hitchcock for the first time tried to focus his eyes upon something, but it was so nebulous and far off that his eyes couldn’t make the adjustment, though he worked his face and hands. “Mostly it was space. So much space. I liked the idea of nothing on top, nothing on the bottom, and a lot of nothing in between, and me in the middle of the nothing.”

*

“That man isn’t a borderline,” said someone. “He’s a fall-off-a-cliff-and-no-bottom-to-hit.”

Rääkimata sellest, et peatükk The Long Rain muutis täiesti mu armastust vihma vastu. Et mitte valesti aru saada, siis ma armastan teda endiselt, aga samas ei suuda enam mitte mõelda sellele, et kui ta lakkamatult sajab, siis kas kuskil on keegi selle tõttu kannatamas?

Ja The Last Night of the World on armastusväärne. Lihtsalt.. ilus. Nii ilus.

Ja siia lõppu sobiks hästi: