posted
A while ago I started reading "Beautiful Losers"... Bleah... Grrr... Seems like someone has some stupid little stories to tell and since he's well known, they're actually selling! I stopped at around page 80, but I'm actually surprized that I lasted that long... I'll probably try some of his other books, but I for sure am not going to be the one to buy them!!! (this wasn't my book either... phew...)
From Amazon:
quote: By turns vulgar, rhapsodic, and viciously witty, Beautiful Losers explores each character’s attainment of a state of self-abandonment, in which the sensualist cannot be distinguished from the saint.
For me it was just "vulgar" and "vicious".
quote: Losers is Cohen’s most defiant and uninhibited work.
Tell me about it! And why should it be a good thing, I wonder?!?
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quote:A while ago I started reading "Beautiful Losers"... Bleah... Grrr... Seems like someone has some stupid little stories to tell and since he's well known, they're actually selling!
Except for the fact that he wrote most of his poetry and novels before he became a singer. He also received a stipend as a poet from the Canadian government (the Governor General's Performing Arts award), again before he became a singer/songwriter.
*shrug Check the copyright on the book. It was a product of the sixties.
On the other hand, I can certainly see why his writing would not be to everyone's tastes. By all means, if you do not want to read it, you shouldn't.
Of all his books, I found The Book of Mercy to be the most compelling. It was written later in his life, and it reflects a more thoughtful and spiritual ache. Reminds me of his song "Hallelujah."
posted
Oh, oops, I haven't actually checked the date! I got to read this one because it and another one just got translated into Romanian and a family friend bought it.
Anyway, I didn't plan on finishing it then or later. Perhaps I'll give "The Book of Mercy" a try. Perhaps not... Anyway, his music's still good!
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I found it interesting to read interviews with him from the various times in his career. He has been through some changes, certainly, although women have always figured prominantly in his life. Still do, if rumor is correct.
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quote:What is a saint? A saint is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence. A saint does not dissolve the chaos; if he did the world would have changed long ago. I do not think that a saint dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the universe in order. It is a kind of balance that is his glory. He rides the drifts like an escaped ski. His course is the caress of the hill. His track is a drawing of the snow in a moment of its particular arrangement with wind and rock. Something in him so loves the world that he gives himself to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, he traces with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape. His house is dangerous and finite, but he is at home in the world. He can love the shape of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.
quote:Old friend, you may kneel as you read this, for now I come to the sweet burden of my argument. I did not know what I had to tell you, but now I know. I did not know what I wanted to proclaim, but now I am sure. All my speeches were preface to this, all my exercises but a clearing of my throat. I confess I tortured you but only to draw your attention to this. I confess I betrayed you but only to tap your shoulder. In our kisses and sucks, this, ancient darling, I meant to whisper.
God is alive. Magic is afoot. God is alive. Magic is afoot. God is afoot. Magic is alive. Alive is afoot. Magic never died. God never sickened. Many poor men lied. Many sick men lied. Magic never weakened. Magic never hid. Magic always ruled. God is afoot. God never died. God was ruler though his funeral lengthened. Though his mourners thickened Magic never fled. Though his shrouds were hoisted the naked God did live. Though his words were twisted the naked Magic thrived. Though his death was published round and round the world the heard did not believe. Many hurt men wondered. Many struck men bled. Magic never faltered. Magic always led. Many stones were rolled but God would not lie down. Many wild men lied. Many fat men listened. Though they offered stones Magic still was fed. Though they locked their coffers God was always served. Magic is afoot. God rules. Alive is afoot. Alive is in command. Many weak men hungered. Many strong men thrived. Though they boasted solitude God was at their side. Nor the dreamer in his cell, not the captain on the hill. Magic is alive. Though his death was pardoned round and round the world the heart would not believe. Though laws were carved in marble they could not shelter men. Though altars built in parliaments they could not order men. Police arrested Magic and Magic went with them for Magic loves the hungry. But Magic would not tarry. It moves from arm to arm. It would not stay with them. Magic is afoot. It cannot come to harm. It rests in an empty palm. It spawns in an empty mind. But Magic is no instrument. Magic is the end. Many men drove Magic but Magic stayed behind. Many strong men lied. They only passed through Magic and out the other side. Many weak men lied. They came to God in secret and though they left him nourished they would not tell who healed. Though mountains danced before them they said that God was dead. Though his shrouds were hoisted the naked God did live. This I mean to whisper to my mind. This I mean to laugh with in my mind. This I mean my mind to serve till service is but Magic moving through the world, and mind itself is Magic coursing through the flesh, and flesh itself is Magic dancing on a clock, and time itself the Magic Length of God.
posted
Hey, I was wondering how come this thread got on the first page again?!
I just read the first excerpt and it's a nice one. The problem is that you have to go through all the rest to get a few beautiful things. I can't. I mean, I'm not even repulsed by it, I find it... childish, or something. "Verbal masturbation" is close to what I think it was.
Anyway, thank you CT for taking the time to answer this!
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posted
Yes. By his account, he was doing quite a few drugs at the time (remember, this was the sixties), and amphetamines figured prominantly. So you get lyrical spirals of beauty as well as jumbled stream-of-consciousness. And sex has always been a focus of his energy.
I hear you, Corwin. I'll try to find some other passages you would like.
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quote: he was doing quite a few drugs at the time (remember, this was the sixties)
Uhhh, I haven't been around for that long, and well, although I've heard about the "drug-problem" of those years I don't have an accurate idea about it at all.
And if we're talking about drugs, here's a weird thing: I don't like losing my mind to anything. Not drugs, not alcohol, nothing. I've seen their effects on people close to me and it drove away from me even the faintest idea of trying that. But - because there's always a "but" - I enjoy very much Ph. K. Dick's novels, some of which were actually written based on drug experiences. I like how when you read his books you always question reality. How you look behind the curtain and just when you think that now you're in the "real world" there's another curtain! Anyway, just another strange thing in this strange world.
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