This was one of the better attributes of the Reader Feedback Loop. When readers imbue a book with their own interpretations the weather always comes first, then colours, symmetry, trees, architecture, fixtures and fittings and finally texture. Birdsong, however, is generally not something brought alive by the reader's imagination, so the birds still have to be provided. Since we were now in the unread zone of the novel, the birds were either off duty or populating another book elsewhere. There is a certain amount of economics within the BookWorld; Austen birds are the same as Brontë ones - listen carefully and you'll hear.

(Jasper Fforde, One of our Thursdays is missing, Kapitel 12)


The Lady of Shalott was of an indeterminate age and might once have been plain before the rigours of arstistic interpretation got working on her. This was the annoying side of the Feedback Loop; irrespective of how she had once looked or even wanted to look, she was now a pre-Raphaelite beauty with long flaxen tresses, flowing white gown and a silver forehead band. She wasn't the only one to be physically morphed by Reader Expectation. Miss Havisham was now elderly whether she liked it or not, and Sherlock Holmes wore a deerstalker and smoked a ridiculously large pipe. The problem wasn't just confined to the classics. Harry Potter was seriously pissed off that he'd have to spend the rest of his life looking like Daniel Radcliffe.

(Jasper Fforde, One of our Thursdays is missing, Kapitel 7)


*Seufz* Eigentlich könnte man fast jeden dritten Satz aus dem Buch zitieren, aber die müssen erstmal reichen. Weitere Fundstücke folgen. Auch aus anderen Büchern natürlich.

Wieder-/quergelesen, einzeln rausgepickt:

Giovanni Guareschi, diverse Geschichten aus den Bänden:
Don Camillo und seine Herde
.. und Don Camillo mittendrin ..
.. aber Don Camillo gibt nicht auf ..

So Geschichten wie "Die alte Lehrerin", "Die Flughühner", "Das Mehl des Teufels", "Die Riesenschlange", "Der Königswein", "Ceratom", "Don Candidos Tomaten" und viele andere kann ich mir immer wieder antun. Und das sind nur Geschichten aus den späteren Bänden, den allerersten Band "Don Camillo und Peppone", den ich im April 77 zur Konfirmation geschenkt bekam, hab ich mir erst mal bewußt aufgespart.

Und auch die Vorworte finde ich immer wieder schön zu lesen, die Entstehungsgeschichte der 'Mondo Piccolo' und auch wie Guareschi darüber dachte.

Ich habe nichts weiter zu meinen Geschichten zu sagen. Niemand kann schließlich von einem armen, anständigen Menschen verlangen, daß er, nachdem er ein Buch geschrieben hat, es auch noch verstehen soll.

(Giovanni Guareschi, aus "So bin ich", in "..aber Don Camillo gibt nicht auf..")

Wiedergelesen:

Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures

Einer meiner Lieblingsdiscworldbände und ich denke mal, daß ich in der nächsten Zeit noch ein paar Bände dazwischen schieben werde, denn bei der Serie geht es mir wie bei vielen anderen - wenn man einmal eintaucht, kommt man so schnell nicht wieder raus.

Bei diesem Lesen ist mir endlich auf Seite 50 meiner Corgi-Ausgabe die Discworld-Version des ersten Satzes von War of the Worlds aufgefallen - naja, vielleicht hab ich sie schon bei vergangenen Lesungen bemerkt, aber total vergessen.

"No-one would have believed, in the final years of the Century of the Fruitbat, that Discworld affairs were being watched keenly and impatiently by intelligences greater than Man's, or at least much nastier; that their affairs were being scrutinized and studied as a man with a three-day appetite might study the All-You-Can-Gobble-For-A-Dollar menu outside Harga's House of Ribs..."

(Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures, 1990)

Why temples? thought Moist, as he gazed up at the facade of the Royal Bank of Ankh-Morpork. Why do they always build banks to look like temples, despite the fact that several major religions a) are canonically against what they do inside and b) bank there.

(Terry Pratchett, "Making Money", 2007)

Terry Pratchetts Going Postal, Band 29 in der Reihe, ist dazu noch etwas besonderes - ähnlich wie bei The Truth geht es prinzipiell um die Macht der Worte und schon deshalb macht der Band bei mir mittlerweile The Truth seinen ersten Platz in meinen persönlichen Top Five der Diskworld-Lieblingsbände streitig. Und das bei weitem nicht nur wegen der absolut genialen Namen der Hauptpersonen Moist von Lipwig und Adora Belle Dearheart. Wie die wohl übersetzt werden sollen? Ich hoffe ja sehr, daß der arme Mensch, der den Übersetzerjob kriegt, wenigstens daran denkt, daß der Papageienspruch "Pieces of Eight" aus Stevensons "Schatzinsel" ist und in der deutschen Fassung als "Goldene Escudos" übersetzt wurde. Aber wenn nicht, wird die Welt davon nicht untergehen. Und die Diskworld erst recht nicht.

.
.
'How can I put this...' mused Pelc. 'Words have power, you understand? It is in the nature of our universe. Our Library itself distorts time and space on quite a grand scale. Well, when the Post Office started accumulating letters it was storing words. In fact what was being created was what we call a gevaisa, a tomb of living words. Are you of a literary persuasion, Mr Lipwig?'
'Not as such.' Books were a closed book to Moist.
'Would you burn a book?' said Pelc. 'An old book, say, battered, almost spineless, found in a box of rubbish?'
'Well... probably not', Moist admitted.
'Why not? Would the thought make you uncomfortable?'
'Yes, I suppose it would. Books are... well, you just don't do that.

(Terry Pratchett, "Going Postal", 2004)

... and a dobby stone, which was supposed to be lucky, because it had a hole in it. (She'd been told that when she was seven, and had picked it up. She couldn't quite see how the hole made it lucky, but since it had spent a lot of time in her pocket, and then safe and sound in a box, it was probably more fortunate than most other stones, which got kicked around and run over by carts and so on.)

(Terry Pratchett, "A Hat full of Sky", 2004)

Gerade bei Älis gefunden und die hat es wiederum von Dagbok und da wurde es wiederum von Charming Quark importiert .. etc. ... etc. ...

Blogvirus

1. grab the nearest book.
2. open the book to page 23.
3. find the fifth sentence.
4. post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

"The forehead was large."

(Monica Ali, "Brick Lane", 2003)

Ohje, hoffentlich habe ich jetzt nicht etwas falsch verstanden, oder hab dem Virus vorgegriffen, aber ich konnte einfach nicht widerstehen ...

Und tatsächlich hat es meine Aufmerksamkeit auf den Absatz gelenkt, aus dem dieser 5. Satz auf Seite 23 von Brick Lane stammt, und der es durchaus wert ist hier zitiert zu werden:

"She is an unspoilt girl. From the village."
She had got up one night to fetch a glass of water. It was one week since they were married. She had gone to bed and he was still up, talking on the telephone as she stood outside the door.
"No", said Chanu. "I would not say so. Not beautiful. but not ugly either. The face is too broad, big forehead. Eyes are a bit close together."
Nazneen put her hand up to her head. It was true. The forehead was large. But she had never thought of her eyes being too close.
"Not tall. Not short. Around five foot two. Hips are a bit narrow but wide enough, I think, to carry children. All things considered, I am satisfied. Perhaps when she gets older she'll grow a beard on her chin but now she is only eighteen. And a blind uncle is better than no uncle. I waited too long to get a wife."
Narrow hips! You could wish for such a fault, Nazneen said to herself, thinking of the rolls of fat that hung low from Chanu's stomach. It would be possible to tuck all your hundred pens and pencils under those rolls and keep them safe and tight. You could stuff a book or two up there as well. If your spindle legs could take the weight.

Chanu went on talking, but Nazneen crept away, back to bed. A blind uncle is better than no uncle. Her husband had a proverb for everything. Any wife is better than no wife. Something is better than nothing. What had she imagined? That he was in love with her? That he was grateful because she, young and graceful, had accepted him? That in sacrificing herself to him, she was owed something? Yes. Yes. She realized in a stinging rush she had imagined all these things. Such a foolish girl. Such high notions. What self-regard.

(Monica Ali, "Brick Lane", 2003)