Image of Laszlo Krasznahorkai’s “Satantango”. Translated from the Hungarian by George Szirtes New Directions, In the world of “Satantango,” everything. Editorial Reviews. From Bookforum. A bleakly absurdist, voluptuously written saga of abject Satantango – Kindle edition by László Krasznahorkai, George Szirtes. Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. László Krasznahorkai’s first novel, Satantango, was originally published in in Hungary. A contemporaneous review by Miklós Györffy in.

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Back to the bar, and the two chapters that frame the one featuring the mad girl. Because they are quite evident, as the author himself stated on several occasions since kraaznahorkai release. View all 8 comments.

A page-turner this was not. View all 6 comments. The inhabitants dream of escaping, of leaving their colony behind.

Everything in Satantango is decaying and, as the autumn rains start, floods with mud. It’s basically plotless which normally I’m not a fan ofit has strange but really rather funny characters and is almost dreamlike or maybe more nightmare like, because there’s this strange mood throughout.

Satantango by László Krasznahorkai | Quarterly Conversation

Sometimes I would wonder, Why do I feel bothered—on edge? Adding more to this ghostly environ, the wind started to blow heavily and abnormally.

How we laughed — especially when he carries on, right to the end, so that the first two pages of the novel are repeated verbatim. Den ganzen Roman durchzieht eine ausnehmend pessimistische Grundstimmung, die Lethargie der Dorfbewohner legt sich, so mein Empfinden, zuweilen wie Mehltau auf den Text und den Leser.

Aber nicht jedes herausragende Buch passt in jeder Stimmung zu jedem Leser.

Published originally induring the decline of European communism, and finally appearing in English translation this month, Satantango offers the story of a Hungarian collective which, despite its formal dissolution, fails to disband. If Irimias is diabolically Gothic, the Security captain who chastises him is positively Miltonic.

It is inhabited by a cast of semi-crazed inadequates: Satantango with its “suffocating sense of sadness,” is not for everyone. Characters who had echoes of the larger-than-life should have been bigger, more emphatically individual than I found them to be.


The constant dread and impending doom of the present on every page is almost always disconcerting. It was these spiders which were occupying the bar that was carrying out the duty of an angelic archivist of these wretched souls. Not to be too negative either, because maybe it’s unfair to judge this book by the film.

Satantango (novel) – Wikipedia

Josefina Wagner Oldukca aciklayici yazmissiniz sayin ArturoBelano, ilgimi cekti. The story centres on the arrival of a man who may or may not be a prophet, or the devil, or just a violent being, out to cause unrest in a rotting, perishing, rain-sodden Hungarian hamlet where a First published in Hungary in this cleverly constructed, often exhilarating, but relentlessly bleak novel is now something of a cult classic.

It is cunning, safantango, desolation and gloom that fill this novel from start to finish, but yet it doesn’t leave that lurid taste in your mouth when you close the cover each night.

In one scene, the drunken doctor, heading to the bar to refresh his liquor supply, runs into the krasznahorkkai Esti Horgos. It was dangerous for me satantanbo type out this excerpt, because, laszlk you can see, I almost typed out the rest of the book! As the peasants drunkenly await Irimias, they dance the tango and the czardasand when they fall asleep exhausted, spiders creep out of the woodwork and cover the entire bar, drunks included:.

And what a wonderful speech he makes: Half like trying to chase down and kill mosquitoes in a bedroom before going to sleep: So much for deeds; what about sarantango The entire end-of-October night was beating with a single pulse, its own strange rhythm sounding satantqngo trees and rain and mud in a manner beyond words or vision; a vision present in the low light, in the slow passage of darkness, in the blurred shadows, in the working of tired muscles; in the silence, in its human subjects, in the undulating surface of the metalled road; in the hair moving to a different beat than do the dissolving fibers of the body; growth and decay on their divergent paths; all these krasznahlrkai of echoing rhythms, this confusing clatter of night noises, all parts of an apparently common stream, that is the attempt to forget despair; though behind things other things appear as if by mischief, and once beyond the power of the eye they no longer hang together.


The datantango whom they credit with extraordinary powers, and who was supposed to have already died, is on the road to the estate, with his sidekick Petrina. Nothing so glib, surely?


There was no hint of vanity at the moment when the spiders had found out what was lurking beneath Irimias. But, like so many others in the novel, his sister is awaiting some magical or religious event.

The chapters tend to begin with some under-explained event, a strangely vehement argument about whether to turn on an oil heater, or the inhabitants trashing their homes and setting out krasznahogkai the open road clutching a few possessions.

Satantango is concerned with pointlessness and nothingness in a melancholy fashion, and with a negative view of these concepts in the European intellectual and religious tradition. Following the storyteller, history moves forwards and backwards until the circle closes One morning near the end of October not long before the first drops of the mercilessly long autumn rains began to fall on the cracked and saline soil on the western side of the estate later the stinking yellow sea of mud would render footpaths impassable and put the town too beyond reach Futaki woke to hear bells.

They place their hopes in an outward salvation. The plot of Satantango is too simple — or too complex, depending on how one reads the novel — to reduce here without giving some critical element away. They dream of the fool’s prophet, Irimias, and regress further.

The default setting for all humanity — and this seems to go for the faceless state apparatus as well — is to blame others for anything that goes wrong, and seek out a quick fix for an easy life, live for the pleasures of the moment.