Just completed “The Loser” by Thomas Berhard. Goes along with Ishiguro “The Unconsoled” in books which are
repetitive-deliberately, to induce:
“I cant bear any more of this but i keep reading(by the end)-its so vitriolic and negative (and I do not even get the putative “bitter” humour)” type thoughts
mild resentment- why am I reading this.?
But, of course, this is probably all the very point…
Bernhard’s narrative circles round a number of persons, principally the related(by the narrator)thoughts of a suicide victim, who was once called a “loser” by the great Glenn Gould, and who has (severely) internalised it.
I put these random thoughts on my blog because, beneath the resentful vitriol are:
yearning for what MIGHT have been(the suicide victim and the narrator might have been Glenn Gould.)
Sebald, on the other hand, like the piece of Enescu to which I am listening, and like the Bach aria “Schlummert ein”, sung by Janet Baker, touches on the sorrow of the whole world.
But I liked and slightly hated it and shall read more….