Trailer » De tienduizend dingen PDF by Æ Maria Dermoût

Trailer » De tienduizend dingen PDF by Æ Maria Dermoût The Ten Thousand Things Is A Novel Of Shimmering Strangeness The Story Of Felicia, Who Returns With Her Baby Son From Holland To The Spice Islands Of Indonesia, To The House And Garden That Were Her Birthplace, Over Which Her Powerful Grandmother Still Presides There Felicia Finds Herself Wedded To An Uncanny And Dangerous World, Full Of Mystery And Violence, Where Objects Tell Tales, The Dead Come And Go, And The Past Is As Potent As The Present First Published In Holland In , Maria Dermo T S Novel Was Immediately Recognized As A Magical Work, Like Nothing Else Dutch Or European Literature Had Seen Before The Ten Thousand Things Is An Entranced Vision Of A Far Off Place That Is As Convincingly Real And Intimate As It Is Exotic, A Book That Is At Once A Lament And An Ecstatic Ode To Nature And Life The trouble began with words, really.
No longer was something a thing in essence For neither world nor time has the patience for lists of reinvention, a praxis on praxis where the slightest shift required a churning and blooming of sui generis for that one birth, that one core World and time, so long as human muddies up the lines in hasty life and mortal unease, needs condense But also stretch, for both world and time are vast unknowns dripping with fragrant allurements for the passing human, all too prone to settling and all too weak in the face of fate and its realities And when world and time carry their different settlers across one another, oh The madness of reconciliation Love, religion, colonialism Death, murder, headhunting A paradise bound in poison, sweet for the ones who suckle on the strains of sugar and blood Too complex.
Too beautiful, you mean Too beautiful Beauty in the failed effort to save a life, yes yes Beauty in the jewels and shells and cultured stone, yes yes Beauty in the pace of living with everyone in their place, yes yes Beauty in the mizzen sails, small and sailing jewels across in fluttered thousands, across the blue and green and boundless light of ocean bright, yes yes But, poison in their trailing tips Ah, so no poison Then Beauty in a mass murderer crying over the unsaved death Beauty in the cultured stone torn from graves Beauty in the buying and selling of fellow humanity Beauty so long as all, say, good Then, tell, what is beauty Humans and their words and easy consolidations Love the rich sheen of garnered wealth, loathe the merchant in their different faith Feel passionate in the pursuit of knowledge in the purest form, feel uneasiness in the presence of an expert and all their foreign trappings Cherish the murdered son bred on the gains of slavery and exploitation, condemn the murderer fulfilling the honorable traditions of their people Incorporate with ease the culture of the outsiders around you to your liking, reject with ease the rest Is that it Good with evil Evil with good Too mixed and murky, to go by such labels that no one can come to terms or to grips with, each breaking off with their own nature fitted with whatever nurturing comes to them by fact and fortune of birth Too complicated when far off peoples come into contact with one another and find fascination, one with the other, but also fear And always, always the other.
Better to stick with concrete terms Life, and its goings Death, and its copings A tiny jellyfish with its venom sting, a luscious island with its haunted grounds, a day of murdered and murderers bound by whatever attractive light led them on to their dooms No matter the means or misconceptions, there is the end of an existence, and those who continue on On with remembrance, on with ghosts, on with a single word that, perhaps, has some use in all these muddled and one and the other of all this inexplicable happenings of such exquisite sorrow and horrendous attraction Grief Yes Avoid all reconciliation, all intersection, all encounters with something both self and other, and still the living have their dead There, the hand is forced, the die is cast, and the rest of words fade back into incomprehensible graspings One hundred things, ten thousand things, whatever is enough, is enough And there, within all those number of things, lies the disparate cords of humanity and all its discordant strains across world and time, woven into, what What elseRumphius says that they re quite beautiful Yes, said the officer, a strange poisonous green, with long blue streamers, and the sails are sort of transparent with a coloured edge A crystal sail edged with purple or violet Yes, the officer agreed, a bit astonished Like a jewel, Rumphius said Yes, there was a flicker of enthusiasm in the blue eyes, yes, that s true Glorious, someone said.
And Suprapto continued, I guess the sails aren t very big Now, how could they be big Without the streamers these jellyfish aren t big themselves the sails aren t bigger than the officer looked around for something to compare them with his own firm hand, and then the slim dark hand which the Javanese held on his knee He didn t touch it, but he pointed at it, his fingers moving under the knuckles, a bit larger than the width of your hand perhaps Suprapto looked where the other had pointed his own thin hand Yes, he said in his even, toneless voice, I realized that those sails are small not big, For a short moment it caused him an almost inhuman pain.
Stories often begin in a garden Gardens for the origin of our species gardens for the childhood of our lives or a garden to which one s soul is bound The garden of the Ten Thousand Things however, is not like Eden, for together with the beguiling casuarina trees of the singing branches and the long dropping needles, there are ghosts.
This is the first of the two novels written by Maria Dermo t 1888 1962 She was a Dutch woman who was born and raised in the Eastern colonies of her country, in what today is Indonesia, and remained there until she moved back with her husband to her country of origin well into adulthood The novel was first published in 1955 and remains Dermout s most famous work.
A novel soaking in autobiographical sap will taste of memories and the play of time And we feel the circular rhythm of this memory, with its similar motives cropping up regularly and creating regular cadences We are in the East Reading her is easy to tell that Dermo t is at home in the Southern islands Holland and Europe remain distant and abstract, and foreignness is to be Javanese if one is in one of the Moluccas With no futile exoticism, we can scent the mystery in a phantasmagoric magic.
The structure may seem strange but one could comprehend it as musical, with its middle movements developing new themes and pulling together in a heartrending finale, but it could also seem a puzzle as disconcerting as life itself For the uncanny remains.
If gardens are fertile ground, if they are bordered by the sea and frame the inner bays, then not just flowers, but shells from the water will colonize the earthy grounds These nacre hulls when empty become things.
What is it with the Dutch and their love of things Things of different uses, different colours and materials and shines Some are precious, like pearls of the sea, or ominous like pearls of the earth They all have their history And all have their souls Or take them away, like a dagger.
A garden with a Thousand Things, attended by people who could also become things, if deprived of their soul Following the cycles of Nature Or may be not, may be robbed of Nature and leaving only the shell.
Would that be murder Slowly they had become the only ones left from the past, the only ones who knew everything, had gone through everything.
A happy coincidence greeted me when I finished reading the first part of this book, The Island The atmosphere it portrayed was redolent of the mystifying air surrounding the narrative of Pedro P ramo and after a quick search it turned out that both of these works were first published in 1955 Apart from the thematic similarities and soulful writing, it s the panorama of a scenic as well as a sinister place that governs the telling of various events by Rulfo and Dermo t, but as I went along it became evident that The Ten Thousand Things had a bigger plan for me The title certainly lives up to its nameCan sadness be relieved, or can one only pass it by, very slowly The aesthetic setting of The Moluccas combined with the diversity of its way of life brings to mind the optimism of happy forevers but Dermo t hardly wastes any time in revealing the melancholic beauty of occult lore and rash ignorance of a prejudiced mankind The kind of ignorance that cut short a healthy and ambitious living in the name of A stamp of ownership, to darken the line of another futile discrimination, a punishment for breathing in a forbidden territory or as the manifestation of a random act resulted out of some bizarre irrationality It s hard to pick up a right reason under the venomous effect of so much wrong and that s why this book discreetly maps the forested tracks around inner and outer bays and acquaint us with people they once had, the people they will always haveShe always reached the other side she never reached the other side.
One can be never be sure if those who leave us ever reach the other side or whether such a side exist may be they go on living or go on dying And vacillating between this very uncertainty, all the hundreds and thousands things on these islands are alive or quietly surviving in their own unique way The spices of the bequeathed gardens, the rare shells from the benevolent sea, the flora illustrated by Georgius Everhardus Rumphius, the incessant hearsays and bitter realities, the coming and going of proas and the fascinating cabinet of curiosities And there is Felicia, the Lady of the Small Garden with her immediate and extended family, honoring the living and commemorating the dead by forming a revered bond between guileless spirits and flawed soulsThe garden held her, slowly enveloped her, showed her things, whispered her its secretsThe history, as is normally the case with every place which has stories advancing from its every nook and corner, is dense here but never inaccessible Maria Dermo t s prose has the charm of a seasoned narrator who knows her tales by heart but never weigh them down with mawkish expressions Among the flurry of nomadic legends and callous violence, the poignancy of her writing effortlessly surface and assert its splendor in a modest manner She delicately holds us, slowly envelope us in her words, show us her discoveries, whisper the eternal secrets in our ears It is a mess, but it is a beautiful mess I feel the book but I don t know what it is saying exactly That is the best kind The structure is unconventional reading it, I had no idea how to read it, which is a nice feeling it is the feeling of reading the very first novel And then there are the things from the title, the imbued significance though, thankfully, not symbolism of things, the aura and magic, the legends and rumors, the history and narrative the things that compose a life And the emotions that these things build up with each repetition, each repetition weighing because it has soaked up in its path.
Wonderful, magical book, unlike anything I ve read before Set in Indonesia peopled by Dutch and Indonesian, the living and the dead following a narrative path of its own through the physical world, the natural world, the spiritual world to tell such storiesdifficult to describe as they are truly singular This book must be experienced.
I envisioned writing a longer review but at the moment inspiration is lacking and I will leave it here This is highly recommended to all who are not intimidated by magical realism and a touch of the mystical This is a wonderful book For a in depth discussion, I suggest reading Kris review at a joy for my first completed book of 2016.
First published at The Ten Thousand Things Maria Dermo t brought us to my birth country, Indonesia This is the first time for me to read a Dutch Indies literature so it was truly an interesting experience I had to look up Moluccas the place where the book is set, and only then realized it s the islands of Maluku In fact, I only recently discovered that pre independent Indonesia is called Dutch East Indies Just things you wouldn t learn in school s history books.
I was born in the capital, and never left the island of Java for the first 17 years of my life Weeks after my 17th birthday I left the country, and since then only go back very occasionally, each time making an effort to travel the country even if it s just for a short while, even if I couldn t go very far I ve never been to Maluku or Papua those places are probably as exotic to me as it is to people from outside the country.
And exotic is how I would describe The Ten Thousand Things, from the description of the places, the islands, the sea and the creatures of the sea The stories were dream like, giving you the feeling of floating in and out of a dream, in far flung places, somewhere in an obscure corner of the world, where the water is clear blue and deadly at the same time, where the islands store ten thousand stories and the spirits roam It gave me nostalgic feelings as indeed where ever you are in Indonesia you are never far from the ocean.
The main character that holds all the stories together in the book is referred to as the Lady of the Small Garden, who is from a Dutch family but born in Moluccas She went to Netherlands for her education, and eventually came back to the islands with her son The garden has been in the family for generations and the lady s grandmother has always stayed there She s become part of the island as much as the local people.
I have awareness that the majority of Ambon people are Christians which is something that stands out in a country that is almost 90% Muslim , but I never quite connected it with its important role as one of the Spice Islands in the time of colonization It all makes sense now.
I love that I m learning so much by reading the perspective of an outsider looking in, though I have conflicting feelings about calling Dermo t an outsider After all her family had stayed for generations she s the 4th generation and she might even have indigenous blood somewhere along the line.
How long does one need to stay How many generations before you can truly belong Though The Ten Thousand Things is not strictly autobiographical, it s not hard to see how Dermo t drew from her life experiences Thankful that NYRB Classics has taken her book into their line Here s hoping that they will republish her other book, as it seems to be out of print and would be hard to get.
One interesting thing to note, if you look for the pictures of Maria Dermout, the above would be the one most widely appears It was taken in 1907 when she was 19 years old, and somehow gave an impression of her as a young writer But her books were not published until she s in her 60s The Small Garden at the Inner Bay, a picturesque place where the views, the smells, sounds and colours, held her, slowly enveloped her, showed her things, whispered her its secrets It is a place where time can stand still, where past and present and future, perhaps , can fuse into one unifying image The lady of the Small Garden likes to wander along its paths, or resting somewhere in the shade, letting her mind go back in time, remembering those before her who lived here and those who passed on She feels, touches or imagines the many thousand things that have left their mark on this land over many generations In her company we are drawn into a world that is real and imagined, that can reveal itself in intricate detail or in impressionistic apparition We follow her exploring the woods at one end of the garden, or sit with her on the deck looking out into the bay, watching the gentle surf and the trade boats glide by Does this sound enthralling and somewhat unreal Indeed it is both Yet, the place is real, with real people living on an island Ambon in the Moluccas in a or less specific historical time Dutch writer Maria Dermo t has created an extraordinary novel in which she paints landscape, atmosphere and characters so beautifully that you want to learn about her, the people and the island Drawing on her life experiences, while living and traveling for many years in the then Dutch East Indies, she is recognized as a prominent representative of Dutch literature, yet little known elsewhere Felicia, the heroine of the story, takes over the role as the lady of the Small Garden from her grandmother who in turn learned many of the island s stories from her own grandmother The small Garden, which is not small at all, dominates the island Each object, plant or animal in the garden had its own story, from the scientific name to the mysteries of the indigenous beliefs, to the traditional medicines of the islands and the spirits of those long past Felicia is a modern young woman when she returns with her young son to her childhood place to stay with her grandmother And slowly, very slowly she discovers the secrets of the place and learns to see and listen to its tunes Dermo t combines her talents of an intricate story teller with the eye of a painter Her descriptions of places and people are delicate and imaginative At the same time, she weaves into the fabric of her overall portrayal of Felicia and the Garden other people s stories from nearby places We meet a Scots professor accompanied by an attractive proud Javanese assistant a commissioner with a mysterious domestic arrangement Felicia s son and his adventures, and others Their stories are connected in some way, even if, initially, we may not quite see how these fit into the broader canvass but suffice to say that they do in the end The novel s structure is similarly subtle and initially not totally easy to follow I actually read the first pages twice once for their imaginary beauty and once for comprehension of the narrative flow Once I realized that I was entering an unknown landscape, I also discovered that the understated narrative structure and impressionistic impressions eventually condensed to defined images of a rich portrait of lives lived in a real, yet magical place Maria Dermo t s novel was first published in 1955 in Dutch and in translated into English in 1958 During her lifetime, she died in 1962, she did not experience the respect and admiration for this novel and her other work that she achieved later Hans Koning, whose sensitive translation and excellent introduction to this novel make the new NYRB edition a delight to read.
Suddenly there was an almost tangible silence.
Only the sound of the surf on the coast, the steady murmur of the ocean far out, and the wind, in gusts.
The two men let out the sounding line over the edge of the proa.
The Binongko stood up the guards let him , he spoke some words repeated the same ones, it seemed no one understood him except the one police guard but he paid no attention Nobody paid attention.
Nobody listened but they all looked at him.
The two under the roof, the rowers on each side of the proa, the two with the sounding lead worked on the line but they looked at him too, and so did the guards All looked, all those pairs of dark eyes and the one pair of blue eyes, all looked at the shackled man standing in their midst the murderer.
Nobody spoke.
Suprapto had the feeling of circles concentric circles.
First the murderer his handcuffs and chains made him seem enclosed and encircled within himself.
Then all of them around the man.
The proa again around them.
Outside the open water, waves, coast, trees, wind and sky were no part of this, could not set them free from the circles They had no link with all that any.
No one spoke, no one moved And it was over The tightening circles had been loosened, without much effort.
Dermout s prose is breathtaking, evocative, efficient She offers the cadence of the sea one of the finest endings I ve read a quiet, constant awareness of her characters surroundings and circumstances the ability to create tension out of nothing, and then again, release it, with a word or two She accomplishes in 208 pages what others take twice as much to say, and with less power She gives us an Indonesia long gone, with a story that is both ancient and current One word of advice read the Introduction after you read the book.
This is a tiny little book and it s a bit of a muddle of beauty and strangeness There s a lot to love, and most of what s here works It s not a new favorite for me, but I m glad to have read it Dermout s finest gift is her description Her language is very visual and every part of this novel is easy to picture from the various island locations, to the characters appearances and mannerisms, to the events that take place The most immersive moments that I found myself deep inside of were when Pauline draws the knife, the drumbeat of the proa rowers, Felicia s thoughts on what she will teach her son, the policeman s discovery of the professor s things beneath the four men, and grandma s appearance when Felicia first arrives I always enjoy magical realism, and it s well done here I loved the linking of the murder victims together, the deep dives into folklore and storytelling, and the airy, dreamy feel of the prose The writing style is different endlessly peppered with dashes and semicolons and took some getting used to For the most part, it keeps the story flowing gently onward though there are occasional sentences that are tough to read.
Themes loss, grief, death, Indonesia, folklore, nature, women, colonialism, family

Helena Anthonia Maria Elisabeth Dermo t Ingerman was born in Pekalongan, Java, Indonesia, on 15 June 1888 and died in the Hague, the Netherlands, on 27 June 1962 She was a Dutch Indonesian author.