coldplayke
Legacy Member
The Corrections - Jonathan Franzen
De eerste 300 pagina's waren super, maar in de tweede helft van het boek zakte het niveau naar mijn mening aanzienlijk. Voor mij blinkt Franzen vooral uit in zijn ambitieuze zinsconstructies en frivool taalgebruik, iets dat ook al duidelijk was in Freedom. Neem nu volgende zin:
In Duitstalige romans/het modernisme worden ook regelmatige complexe en lange zinnen opgevoerd, maar zo een joekel ben ik toch nog niet vaak in hedendaagse literatuur tegen gekomen.
De eerste 300 pagina's waren super, maar in de tweede helft van het boek zakte het niveau naar mijn mening aanzienlijk. Voor mij blinkt Franzen vooral uit in zijn ambitieuze zinsconstructies en frivool taalgebruik, iets dat ook al duidelijk was in Freedom. Neem nu volgende zin:
He began a sentence: "I am -" but when he was taken by surprise, every sentence became an adventure in the woods; as soon as he could no longer see the light of the clearing from which he'd entered, he would realize that the crumbs he'd dropped for bearings had been eaten by birds, silent deft darting things which he couldn't quite see in the darkness but which were so numerous and swarming in their hunger that it seemed as if they were the darkness, as if the darkness weren't uniform, weren't an absence of light but a teeming and corpuscular thing, and indeed when as a studious teenager he'd encountered the word "crepuscular" in McKay's Treasury of English Verse, the cropuscles of biology had bled into his understanding of the word, so that for his entire life he'd seen in twilight a cropuscularity, as of the graininess of the high-speed film necessary for photography under conditions of low ambient light, as a kind of sinister decay; and hence the panic of a man betrayed deep in the woods whose darkness was the darkness of starlings blotting out the sunset or black ants storming a dead opossum, a darkness that he'd sensibly established for himself, lest he be lost; but in the instant of realizing he was lost, time became marvelously slow and he discovered hitherto unguessed eternities in the space between one word and the next, or rather he became trapped in that space between words and could only stand and watch as time sped on without him, the thoughtless boyish part of him crashing on out of sight blindly through the woods while he, trapped, the grownup Al, watched in oddly impersonal suspense to see if the panick-stricken boy might, despite no longer knowing where he was or at what point he'd entered the woods of this sentence, still manage to blunder into the clearing where Enid was waiting for him, unaware of any woods - "packing my suitcase," he heard himself say.
In Duitstalige romans/het modernisme worden ook regelmatige complexe en lange zinnen opgevoerd, maar zo een joekel ben ik toch nog niet vaak in hedendaagse literatuur tegen gekomen.
