"They lay still for a time. In accordance with the rules, Inni was sad. As he let the embrace with the bigger Lyda seep away into his memory gap, he felt, as usual, bitter at what was bound to happen next. They would disentangle themselves, maybe wash, he would descend the long staircase like someone descending a staircase, she would fall asleep in her own nest, tomorrow she would drink crème de menthe again, with idiots, and they would die, each one separately, in different hospital beds, ill treated by young nurses who were not yet born"Having read 99 books so far this year I decided a special item for the "hecto" number is needed. The Following Story , a quietly beautiful meditation on love and human transience, has been my best book (so far) of 2015, so why not "Rituals" (1980), another novel by Cees Nooteboom? Well, first of all, it is not an easy book to read: I needed almost 10 hours for the mere 144 pages, and my otherwise debilitating insomnia came handy here. Not only did I have to tightly focus my attention to follow the rather complex structure, but also, more importantly, I kept re-reading and re-reading, savoring the cleverness and beauty of many dazzling passages of prose: I could not afford to miss a single word or phrase.It is not a book one reads for the plot: there is not much of a story in "Rituals". The novel is composed of three episodes that take place at crucial moments in the life of Inni Wintrop, a financially independent Dutch dilettante who dabbles in stock market and art collecting. His wife, with whom he is extremely close - but only in the physical sense - leaves him in 1963, and Inni decides to commit suicide. The second episode takes place ten years earlier, when he meets his aunt and, through her, a Mr. Arnold Taads, a recluse and misanthrope, so disgusted with life that he eventually kills himself. Finally, it is 1973 and Inni meets a Mr. Philip Taads, Arnold's son, who also ends up committing suicide. From the shallow summary it may seem this extraordinary novel is about suicide, which is not true. The human emptiness of being is the focus: people who have not found love in their life fail to make sense of their existence. While Inni has frequent sexual contacts with many women, he is not in any real way close to them. Arnold Taads rejected his son, who, in turn, has isolated himself from the world in his dark mysticism. Inni and the Taadses are three utterly lonely people who attempt to construct the sense of their being on this Earth by immersing themselves in rituals. For Inni these were the Catholic faith rituals in his youth. Arnold "divided the empty, dangerous expanse of the day into a number of precisely measured parts, and the boundary posts at the beginning and end of each part determined his day." Philip had the Japanese ceremonial of drinking tea to justify his existence."Rituals" is an extremely serious novel, and I am using the word 'serious' quite seriously. Yet even with the exceptional writing it still feels opaque, impenetrable, mysterious. Perhaps the feeling that the reader is almost there to understand is the key? After all, what would be left for us in life if we did understand?Four stars.
Inni Wintrop, protagonista del romanzo, è un personaggio smarrito e confuso dinnanzi alla contraddittorietà del mondo che si muove intorno a lui, prototipo dell’individuo gettato nel mondo di cui parla Sartre. Inni si definisce “un buco, un’assenza”, uno che dalla vita si lascia distrarre. Mentre gli altri due personaggi che egli incontra nel corso della narrazione -in cui sono raccontati trenta anni della sua vita non in sequenza, ma con ritorni al passato iniziando la storia dagli anni ’60 quando Inni è trentenne, tornando indietro di dieci anni al momento in cui fa l’incontro per così dire “pedagogico” con Arnold Taads, per finire con Inni quarantenne che conosce per caso Philip Taads, figlio che Arnold ha abbandonato quasi alla nascita- ammantano il loro disagio esistenziale con rituali diversi, ma sempre finalizzati ad impedire che il mondo li aggredisca, Inni è disarmato perché svuotato di contenuti e al contempo imperturbabile per l’indifferenza con cui gli accadimenti gli scivolano addosso. La conclusione cui Nooteboom, con una scrittura densa e coinvolgente, giunge è che i rituali, nel mondo di fine millennio senza più certezze nè fede, non sono altro che il tentativo di porre un argine alle mille paure che assillano l’uomo: così Arnold Taads vive con il suo cane, in odio perenne verso sé stesso ed il genere umano, sottoposto al comando ferreo del tempo con cui scandisce ogni momento della sua giornata in attività sempre uguali e ripetute, mentre Philip Taads, uguale per molti versi a suo padre pur non avendolo mai conosciuto, trascorre il suo tempo in una casa silenziosa come un monastero, immerso nella meditazione zen e ossessionato dal rito della cerimonia giapponese del te. Ambedue con la vocazione inesorabile all’autodistruzione, arrendendosi all’insensatezza del vivere.
What do You think about Rituals (1992)?
See raamat on midagi niisugust, mis tõesti mõjub. Mõnel hetkel, mil ma seda lugesin, tundus see olevat parima keele ja vaimukaima mõttega raamat, mida ma üldse kunagi käes olin hoidnud. Selles on lehekülgi, kus peaaegu üle ühe lause öeldakse midagi, mille peaks meelde jätma – öeldakse midagi, mis tabab mõtet – ja tabab sel viisil, nagu vaid ilmselt Nooteboom seda teha suudab. Võibolla on mu vaimustuses süüdi see, et ma pikka aega millegi samaväärse peale polnud sattunud – pettumus, sõnamulin, keskpärased raamatud ja autorid, kes endale poriloopimise ja meediamodellindusega nime on teinud ei munegi alati kuldmune... võibolla jah sellepärast, aga võibolla ka mitte.
—Jana Maasik
FINALLY!!!Finally I finished this book... It took me three weeks to read it. I think it never took so long to read a book before...Well, my opinion. It's not that I hated the book or something, and there were some funny things in it too, but it's just... There's not much excitement (the only thing I considered exciting was the death of Philip Taads, and that was on the last couple of pages.)So yeah... There's not so much to say about this book. I wouldn't recommand it if you don't like stories where not really much is happening, because then it's boring, but if you like this type of books, maybe you'll like this one too, and then I would recommand it.I have to say one more thing, and that is that I was intruiged by the way of thinking of Philip and Arnold Taads... They HATED human beings, so they hated themselves too... But they never 'really' killed themselves. (Of course they did, but it could have been an accident too).
—Kimberly
"Op de dag dat Inni Wintrop zelfmoord pleegde stonden de aandelen Philips 149.60. De slotkoers van Amsterdamse Bank was 375 geweest en Scheepvaart Unie was gezakt naar 141.50. Herinnering is als een hond die gaat liggen waar hij wil. En dat is wat hij zich herinnerde, áls hij zich iets herinnerde, de koersen en dat de maan in de gracht geschenen had, en dat hij zich had opgehangen in zijn wc omdat hij in zijn eigen horoscoop in Het Parool voorspeld had dat zijn vrouw er vandoor zou gaan met een andere en dat hij, Leeuw, dan zelfmoord zou plegen."Zelden zo'n toffe eerste alinea gelezen in een boek. Daarna kwamen er nog veel meer mooie zinnen, treffende metaforen en boeiende gedachten. Maar al dat moois ging nergens naartoe, dus daarom ging het geheel een beetje stinken naar pocherij en narcisme. (Narcisten zijn allergisch voor narcisme.) 'Kijk mij, ik ben briljant' riepen de zinnen, en dan probeert alles in mij te vinden dat het zo briljant nog niet is. Er waren ook teveel bijvoeglijk naamwoorden en bijzinnen naar mijn smaak. Een paar hoofdstukken later schold ik het boek daarom uit voor pretentieus Rococo en schroefde ik voor straf mijn leestempo op.Naar het midden toe, had ik me aan die pretentieusheid toch maar overgegeven. Dat het verhaal nergens heengaat en vooral een vehikel is voor mooie zinnen en wijze gedachten kon me niet meer hinderen. Sommige van die gedachten zijn ook echte slijpstenen:"Aan het eind van die winter was zijn vader bij het bombardement op het Bezuidenhout omgekomen. Het bericht had hem met grote trots vervuld. Nu hoorde hij ook echt bij de oorlog."Ik realiseerde me ook dat ik door mijn opgeschroefde leestempo waarschijnlijk veel moois gemist heb. Ik zou het verhaal dus nog een keer moeten lezen met een welwillende bui die het hele boek duurt, maar dat ga ik waarschijnlijk niet doen.Blijkbaar is ook de juiste stemming om een boek te lezen 'een eigenwijze hond die gaat liggen waar hij wil'.
—Gerben
