The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia This article may be expanded with text translated from the corresponding article in German. June Click [show] for important translation instructions. View a machine-translated version of the German article. Machine translation like DeepL or Google Translate is a useful starting point for translations, but translators must revise errors as necessary and confirm that the translation is accurate, rather than simply copy-pasting machine-translated text into the English Wikipedia. Do not translate text that appears unreliable or low-quality.
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Shelves: fiction , 20th-century , read-in-translation I felt repeatedly while reading The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge that I might have had a strong positive response to it if I had have? However, at the same time, I am not entirely unappreciative of it. Well so far I have talked around it, so let me beat the bush directly for a change.
The note books open on the 11th of September, presumably sometime around when Rilke published the work. Brigge is in Paris, he seems to be poor view spoiler [ he is the kind of poor that can afford to store his old furniture in a barn and knock about in Paris with no apparent income hide spoiler ] but has a wish not to be identified as one of the Parisian urban poor, the opening pages are an intense rush of sensory impressions - mostly unpleasant, Brigge is particularly aware of hospitals, of one of which he describes as "a factory production line, of course, and with such an immense output the quality of individual deaths may vary" p.
Brigge says some striking things - that he is learning to see, that as he changes he is not the same person as he was, therefore he cannot write to people that he knew because they have now become strangers to each other, and that people wear different faces. A doctor offers him the opportunity to undergo electric shock treatment but while waiting his turn Brigge runs off.
After a while the narration changes and he recounts events from his childhood, the death of his mother, later of his father, people on the verge of dying, a ghost, his sudden turn to reading, making visits.
Towards the end the narrative shifts back to Paris - how he can hear the neighbours through the walls, ruminations on love, God features throughout but I felt as a synonym for love rather than a set of specific beliefs.
Obviously at a loss, I was obliged to make recourse to a popular on-line encyclopeadia to see if anything there might throw some light on what I had read. There the Notebooks were described as semi-autobiographical so maybe we have a game - the author saying this is me and this is not me - indeed some elements in the novel apparently were drawn from his own life, but we also have a distancing the author is asserting that Brigge is a fiction, perhaps a person he could have been but one who he is not, Rilke was from Prague not Denmark and his parents middle class not aristocrats.
It says it is the notebooks of Brigge, not the manifesto of Brigge, I assume the reader has a sympathetic grasp of them or does not as in my case. The infamous encyclopeadia also mentioned that after a favourable reaction to the Bolshevik revolution and the short lived Bavarian Soviet he ended up writing private letters in which he praised Mussolini, shortly afterwards and coincidentally he died fortunately before he became a fully fledged Fascist - if I was to read these notebooks as an anti-bourgeosis, anti-capitalist, escape from the Weberian iron cage of modernity, full of longing for a mystification of the rational world then Fascism would have been a logical endpoint as it did offer a mystification of the rational world and transformed the fear of death into the idealisation of death mostly of other people admittedly.
There is in his musings on God a sense that he had been bitten deeply by religion in childhood and retained an emotional need for it while intellectually it no longer satisfied him, others particularly perhaps of Protestant inclinations would lean towards spiritualism, the occult, and palm reading I am thinking of W. Yeats, possibly unjustly. On the plus side at least he did not start murdering prostitutes.
“Los cuadernos de Malte Laurids Brigge”
Los cuadernos de Malte Laurids Brigge
Malte Laurids Brigge