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Всичко, което не помня
Един млад мъж на име Самуел отсъства. Историята скача напред и назад във времето, смесват се минало и настояще и ние следваме Самуел чрез спомените на приятели, семейство, познати. Всички те разказват различни версии, някои твърде противоречиви - говорят за Самуел, за себе си, един за друг, търсят вината си за случилото се. В крайна сметка какво остава от всички наши кратки спомени? На кои снимки на паметта може да се вярва? И какво е скрито от това, което не си спомняме? "Всичко, което не помня" е увлекателна приказка за любовта, приятелството и паметта. Роман, който ни предизвиква да видим себе си - и нашите взаимоотношения с най-близките ни хора - по нови и понякога шокиращи начини.
256 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 2015
About the author
Jonas Hassen Khemiri
33 books481 followersJonas Hassen Khemiri, born in 1978, has a Tunisian father and a Swedish mother. He grew up in Stockholm, has studied economics in Paris and been an intern at the UN in New York.
He made a celebrated debut in 2003 with Ett öga rött/One Eye Red, which has sold over 200,000 copies in Sweden and became the best-selling paperback of any category in 2004. For Ett öga rött/One Eye Red Jonas Hassen Khemiri received the Borås Tidning award for best literary debut, Sweden’s most important award for a first book. In the fall of 2007 the film based on Ett öga rött/One Eye Red will open in Swedish cinemas.
Jonas Hassen Khemiri’s second novel, Montecore, was published to unanimous raving reviews in 2006. In strong international competition it was awarded to 2006 year’s P O Enquist Prize. Later the same year, Montecore was nominated for the August literary award. Montecore also received Sveriges Radio’s Romanpris award for best novel of 2007. The listener jury’s motivation reads: "Because Jonas Hassen Khemiri leaves his mark on every single word in Montecore in an inspirational “transpiration” of creativity. Montecore is a beautiful, melancholic but also wonderfully funny book that depicts Sweden in a unique light, making it hard to think of anyone who shouldn’t read it."
Jonas Hassen Khemiri has also had a praised start as a playwright. His first play “Invasion!” was written for The Stockholm City Theatre and played two seasons of sold out performances. His drama debut also opened the doors for Khemiri to participate at Royal Court’s International Residency in London. His new play will open at Riksteatern in 2007.
Translation rights to Khemiri’s novels have so far been sold to: Germany, France, The Netherlands, Finland, Denmark, Norway, Russia and Serbia.
He made a celebrated debut in 2003 with Ett öga rött/One Eye Red, which has sold over 200,000 copies in Sweden and became the best-selling paperback of any category in 2004. For Ett öga rött/One Eye Red Jonas Hassen Khemiri received the Borås Tidning award for best literary debut, Sweden’s most important award for a first book. In the fall of 2007 the film based on Ett öga rött/One Eye Red will open in Swedish cinemas.
Jonas Hassen Khemiri’s second novel, Montecore, was published to unanimous raving reviews in 2006. In strong international competition it was awarded to 2006 year’s P O Enquist Prize. Later the same year, Montecore was nominated for the August literary award. Montecore also received Sveriges Radio’s Romanpris award for best novel of 2007. The listener jury’s motivation reads: "Because Jonas Hassen Khemiri leaves his mark on every single word in Montecore in an inspirational “transpiration” of creativity. Montecore is a beautiful, melancholic but also wonderfully funny book that depicts Sweden in a unique light, making it hard to think of anyone who shouldn’t read it."
Jonas Hassen Khemiri has also had a praised start as a playwright. His first play “Invasion!” was written for The Stockholm City Theatre and played two seasons of sold out performances. His drama debut also opened the doors for Khemiri to participate at Royal Court’s International Residency in London. His new play will open at Riksteatern in 2007.
Translation rights to Khemiri’s novels have so far been sold to: Germany, France, The Netherlands, Finland, Denmark, Norway, Russia and Serbia.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 579 reviews
March 17, 2020
[Edited for typos Nov. 4, 219]
The main character, Samuel, has a Swedish mother and a North African father. We know in the first few pages that Samuel will die in a car accident that could be an accident or a suicide. His best friend, a huge hulky guy, decides to interview family and friends and write a book about his dead friend. The dead man’s mother will only communicate with the would-be author by email but he interviews everyone else.
Samuel feels that he has memory problems (thus the book title), aggravated by his doting on his grandmother who lapses in and out of Alzheimer’s. Sometimes she’s completely lucid, at other times, she doesn’t know who people are. So he deliberately “collects things” for his Experience Bank. But his good friend thinks “There was something desperate about the whole thing. Samuel actively tried to seek out new experiences, but he was completely incapable of enjoying anything. The more he talked about depositing things in his Experience Bank, the emptier he seemed. I remember feeling sorry for him. He seemed lonely.”
Samuel does eventually fall in love with a somewhat older woman but she’s exactly the wrong type for him. She is so insecure that every text from him saying ‘I love you’ she interprets as meaning he is cheating on her. She wonders if the best-bud thing means he is gay or bi. The relationship worked better with hours spent on the phone rather than in-person. So that doesn’t go anywhere. They eventually break up which may have contributed to his suicide, if that is what is was.
The evidence of his death is ambiguous. Why was he going into a curve at 90 miles an hour, where he hit a tree. Why was he not wearing his seatbelt? Yet there were skid marks so he tried to break.
Samuel worked for a state immigration agency. When his grandmother finally has to leave her home to go into an institution, there is an extended subplot where, while the family decides what to do with the grandmother’s empty house, the two men let a spouse-abused immigrant woman and her two children live rent-free in the house. Within a few weeks when they go to the house for repairs they are stepping over wall-to-wall bodies of immigrants sleeping even in the kitchen.
A second subplot involves a good female friend of the two men who is an artist in Berlin. So they fly to Berlin or she comes to Stockholm and it gives us a view of the art/party/rave/hook-up/drug scene among young people in the two places. “The girls looked rich, or they must have been rich, because only rich girls can go to a party with so little make-up and such unshaved armpits and such dirty canvas bags without being ashamed.”
As a side note, it’s startling to see how much US TV and media culture influences these Swedish young people. Here’s a passage: “…she wasn’t just beautiful…she was foxier than the Fox River, she was Beyoncé times a hundred, we’re talking Janet Jackson before the plastic surgery, we’re talking that girl from 21 Jump Street, the big sister on Cosbsy, Hilary from Fresh Prince but with brains…”
I was tempted to call the story a bit depressing, given the main theme, but I think a more appropriate word is melancholy. The book is structured in unconnected paragraphs of thoughts and people speaking about Samuel to the would-be author, usually two or three paragraphs per page. These paragraphs seldom say who is speaking so it takes a constant effort to figure that out from context and it can get tiring.
The author has written several novels, short stories and plays and is also famous for one of the most widely-read on-line articles ever posted in Sweden: “Sweden’s Closet Racists.” A version was published in the New York Times in 2013. https://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/21/op...
A good read and I might read more by this author.
Top photo, a Stockholm neighborhood from static.designboom.com
Stockholm party scene from static.thatsup.com
The author (1978-) from wikipedia.commons
The main character, Samuel, has a Swedish mother and a North African father. We know in the first few pages that Samuel will die in a car accident that could be an accident or a suicide. His best friend, a huge hulky guy, decides to interview family and friends and write a book about his dead friend. The dead man’s mother will only communicate with the would-be author by email but he interviews everyone else.
Samuel feels that he has memory problems (thus the book title), aggravated by his doting on his grandmother who lapses in and out of Alzheimer’s. Sometimes she’s completely lucid, at other times, she doesn’t know who people are. So he deliberately “collects things” for his Experience Bank. But his good friend thinks “There was something desperate about the whole thing. Samuel actively tried to seek out new experiences, but he was completely incapable of enjoying anything. The more he talked about depositing things in his Experience Bank, the emptier he seemed. I remember feeling sorry for him. He seemed lonely.”
Samuel does eventually fall in love with a somewhat older woman but she’s exactly the wrong type for him. She is so insecure that every text from him saying ‘I love you’ she interprets as meaning he is cheating on her. She wonders if the best-bud thing means he is gay or bi. The relationship worked better with hours spent on the phone rather than in-person. So that doesn’t go anywhere. They eventually break up which may have contributed to his suicide, if that is what is was.
The evidence of his death is ambiguous. Why was he going into a curve at 90 miles an hour, where he hit a tree. Why was he not wearing his seatbelt? Yet there were skid marks so he tried to break.
Samuel worked for a state immigration agency. When his grandmother finally has to leave her home to go into an institution, there is an extended subplot where, while the family decides what to do with the grandmother’s empty house, the two men let a spouse-abused immigrant woman and her two children live rent-free in the house. Within a few weeks when they go to the house for repairs they are stepping over wall-to-wall bodies of immigrants sleeping even in the kitchen.
A second subplot involves a good female friend of the two men who is an artist in Berlin. So they fly to Berlin or she comes to Stockholm and it gives us a view of the art/party/rave/hook-up/drug scene among young people in the two places. “The girls looked rich, or they must have been rich, because only rich girls can go to a party with so little make-up and such unshaved armpits and such dirty canvas bags without being ashamed.”
As a side note, it’s startling to see how much US TV and media culture influences these Swedish young people. Here’s a passage: “…she wasn’t just beautiful…she was foxier than the Fox River, she was Beyoncé times a hundred, we’re talking Janet Jackson before the plastic surgery, we’re talking that girl from 21 Jump Street, the big sister on Cosbsy, Hilary from Fresh Prince but with brains…”
I was tempted to call the story a bit depressing, given the main theme, but I think a more appropriate word is melancholy. The book is structured in unconnected paragraphs of thoughts and people speaking about Samuel to the would-be author, usually two or three paragraphs per page. These paragraphs seldom say who is speaking so it takes a constant effort to figure that out from context and it can get tiring.
The author has written several novels, short stories and plays and is also famous for one of the most widely-read on-line articles ever posted in Sweden: “Sweden’s Closet Racists.” A version was published in the New York Times in 2013. https://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/21/op...
A good read and I might read more by this author.
Top photo, a Stockholm neighborhood from static.designboom.com
Stockholm party scene from static.thatsup.com
The author (1978-) from wikipedia.commons
July 12, 2023
I didn’t enjoy this as much as I would like. The premise was very promising, an author writing about the man who died in mysterious circumstances. From the get-go the format made it hard to concentrate, since there was a lot of emails and interviews. I missed having a more streamlined storyline where there was less talking. I got more used to it after a while and then enjoyed the book more.!
February 12, 2017
I've had great experiences with authors from Sweden.....so I thought I'd try again.
"Everything I Don't Remember" is the ......
"Winner of the August Prize, Sweden's most prestigious Literary Honor".
The writing took some getting use to. The first 4 or 5 pages are interesting and confusing...... [interesting sentences, but no context understanding].
Then it 'clicks'. Samuel is 'already' dead at the beginning of the novel. Those first few puzzling pages, 'are' part of the puzzle -excerpts - from a variety of people - trying to determine if Samuel's car crash was an accident or suicide.
For a long time we don't know who is who is speaking-but after a while the characters come into focus. The storytelling is not linear--it jumps backwards and forward. Different witnesses, [Samuel's girlfriend, best friend, neighbors, relatives, a bureaucrat, etc.], share conflicting statements about Samuel. As we learn about Samuel's relationships, we feel the sadness for all that is broken and things that have gone wrong.... ultimately making us more aware of our every day lives.
There is no violence- and this is not a nail biting crime mystery.....but rather an exploration of looking inward. It's as much about grief, love, and loss, as it is the mystery and the investigation of what happened. It's still mysterious, and a criminal investigation but it doesn't feel the same as an American crime drama.
"The rest of that spring just kept going. Time passed so slowly, the way it only does when nothings going on, and yet, when I think back on that spring, it feels like it was over in a second. Maybe it's always like that, and periods that seem long as you're living them become short in your memory, and vice versa".
Unique prose...heartbreaking...sometimes funny....at times dreamlike-qualities.
"Everything I Don't Remember" is the ......
"Winner of the August Prize, Sweden's most prestigious Literary Honor".
The writing took some getting use to. The first 4 or 5 pages are interesting and confusing...... [interesting sentences, but no context understanding].
Then it 'clicks'. Samuel is 'already' dead at the beginning of the novel. Those first few puzzling pages, 'are' part of the puzzle -excerpts - from a variety of people - trying to determine if Samuel's car crash was an accident or suicide.
For a long time we don't know who is who is speaking-but after a while the characters come into focus. The storytelling is not linear--it jumps backwards and forward. Different witnesses, [Samuel's girlfriend, best friend, neighbors, relatives, a bureaucrat, etc.], share conflicting statements about Samuel. As we learn about Samuel's relationships, we feel the sadness for all that is broken and things that have gone wrong.... ultimately making us more aware of our every day lives.
There is no violence- and this is not a nail biting crime mystery.....but rather an exploration of looking inward. It's as much about grief, love, and loss, as it is the mystery and the investigation of what happened. It's still mysterious, and a criminal investigation but it doesn't feel the same as an American crime drama.
"The rest of that spring just kept going. Time passed so slowly, the way it only does when nothings going on, and yet, when I think back on that spring, it feels like it was over in a second. Maybe it's always like that, and periods that seem long as you're living them become short in your memory, and vice versa".
Unique prose...heartbreaking...sometimes funny....at times dreamlike-qualities.
May 30, 2019
So this is how I will remember this Sunday in May.
I woke up and had coffee and planned to spend the day with Faulkner, as it was raining and cold and generally dark and frustrating outside. I took a walk to a nearby school to vote in the EU elections (one has to do the civic duty even if it means getting soaking wet!), and on the way home, I stopped at a supermarket and bought some cinnamon buns for the family and a newspaper for myself. So far, so good.
Home again, with coffee and cinnamon buns, I was still intent on reading Faulkner when I saw an article by Jonas Hassen Khemiri in the newspaper: a funny but oh, so sad guideline for how to cope with the first week after the EU election results are out. On the positive side, according to Khemiri, I will remember tomorrow morning: the nationalists didn't get 100% of the votes. That surely is a reasonably realistic, not over-optimistic prophesy? On the negative side, we have to face, day by day, week by week, that 20% of the people we meet are hostile to all liberal achievements, says Khemiri, and I think: "Be quiet, please! Please, please, please, don't write what I feel and think! I can't bear it."
And because I can't bear it, I abandon the racist misery of Faulkner's South and pick up the contemporary Sweden correlative misery: Khemiri's Allt Jag Inte Minns (All I can't remember), the winner of Augustpriset 2015, which I have managed to not-read for quite a long time until it grabbed me by the neck today and forced me to finish it in one long stretch of reading frenzy. I assume it has been raining all day? It does rain now, but actually: I don't remember registering the weather from noon on. I might suffer from the kind of amnesia the character Samuel had, or his confused grandmother, or his lover, or his friend, all of whom don't dare to remember anything but their own narratives.
My narrative is as follows: Depending on the perspective you take when evaluating what happened to me today, you may say that I stayed home and did absolutely nothing (and you would be partly right) or you could say that I did my best to save Europe (and you would know that each individual tends to see the own action as a bit more important than is strictly correct), or you could say that I travelled between Stockholm and Berlin and tried to solve the mystery of what happened to Samuel, and why, while smiling at the author/narrator who can't stay outside the story. Ha, Jonas, you did that in Ett öga rött too! I know you. You want to be part of the story. Who doesn't? Who isn't? I was. I even had lunch in some places in the novel. If that doesn't qualify me as a co-character, then at least the fact that I only existed through my reading of this novel today must count for something?
I just fear I won't remember it. That's why I take notes. Like Samuel.
I woke up and had coffee and planned to spend the day with Faulkner, as it was raining and cold and generally dark and frustrating outside. I took a walk to a nearby school to vote in the EU elections (one has to do the civic duty even if it means getting soaking wet!), and on the way home, I stopped at a supermarket and bought some cinnamon buns for the family and a newspaper for myself. So far, so good.
Home again, with coffee and cinnamon buns, I was still intent on reading Faulkner when I saw an article by Jonas Hassen Khemiri in the newspaper: a funny but oh, so sad guideline for how to cope with the first week after the EU election results are out. On the positive side, according to Khemiri, I will remember tomorrow morning: the nationalists didn't get 100% of the votes. That surely is a reasonably realistic, not over-optimistic prophesy? On the negative side, we have to face, day by day, week by week, that 20% of the people we meet are hostile to all liberal achievements, says Khemiri, and I think: "Be quiet, please! Please, please, please, don't write what I feel and think! I can't bear it."
And because I can't bear it, I abandon the racist misery of Faulkner's South and pick up the contemporary Sweden correlative misery: Khemiri's Allt Jag Inte Minns (All I can't remember), the winner of Augustpriset 2015, which I have managed to not-read for quite a long time until it grabbed me by the neck today and forced me to finish it in one long stretch of reading frenzy. I assume it has been raining all day? It does rain now, but actually: I don't remember registering the weather from noon on. I might suffer from the kind of amnesia the character Samuel had, or his confused grandmother, or his lover, or his friend, all of whom don't dare to remember anything but their own narratives.
My narrative is as follows: Depending on the perspective you take when evaluating what happened to me today, you may say that I stayed home and did absolutely nothing (and you would be partly right) or you could say that I did my best to save Europe (and you would know that each individual tends to see the own action as a bit more important than is strictly correct), or you could say that I travelled between Stockholm and Berlin and tried to solve the mystery of what happened to Samuel, and why, while smiling at the author/narrator who can't stay outside the story. Ha, Jonas, you did that in Ett öga rött too! I know you. You want to be part of the story. Who doesn't? Who isn't? I was. I even had lunch in some places in the novel. If that doesn't qualify me as a co-character, then at least the fact that I only existed through my reading of this novel today must count for something?
I just fear I won't remember it. That's why I take notes. Like Samuel.
July 19, 2016
This book did some really interesting stuff with narrative structure and time and memory. It wasn't the sort of trippy, confusing, suspense-building storytelling I was expecting. Instead, it basically tells you everything clearly, it's just a matter of deciphering what's fact and what's fiction. And that made for a really addictive and enjoyable reading experience.
However, I didn't really care for the characters. There were some parts of the characters that I didn't like. And it was often difficult to distinguish between the characters' beliefs and the author's beliefs, which can be sort of off-putting and take you out of the story.
Overall, not a really memorable story (sorry, pun intended), but one that was entertaining in the moment.
However, I didn't really care for the characters. There were some parts of the characters that I didn't like. And it was often difficult to distinguish between the characters' beliefs and the author's beliefs, which can be sort of off-putting and take you out of the story.
Overall, not a really memorable story (sorry, pun intended), but one that was entertaining in the moment.
June 7, 2020
What a cleverly formatted book! I am not sure some people will like the format, but I got used to it, and think that the formatting added to the ambiance of the book. Every chapter in the book consists of one to several paragraphs told to an interviewer by one person and then one to several paragraphs told to the interviewer by another person, and it alternates back and forth.
The inside book jacket lays out a succinct fact — that Samuel died in a car crash and it is debatable whether is was an accident or a suicide on his part. So we learn about Samuel from the protagonists in the book: an ex-girlfriend (Laide), his mother, his grandmother who is being put in an old’s folk home (right near the end of the book which is EXTREMELY important, a long-time friend of his going back to his elementary grade school days (Panther), and a man who becomes friends with Samuel (Vandad). Vandad appears to be an immigrant to Sweden and may not be well educated…one of his jobs if he can hold on to it is moving furniture. And shaking down people. Very interesting character.
You’re told near the beginning of the novel that the grandmother’s house is a charred wreckage, and that on the last day of Samuel’s life he is seen lugging a big plastic garbage bag out of the house into his grandmother’s Opel….and a neighbor sees him drive away. What does the charred house have to do with anything? A lot, as we gradually learn as the novel progresses.
Most of the book was very good, but I made a note to myself about halfway through that it was starting to lag. It was when Laide was doing the talking. But soon after it became a page turner and I couldn’t put it down.
Something that just struck me now 16 hours after reading the book but that I could not articulate after putting down the book was the role of memory in this book. I know in the book Samuel supposedly had a problem with memory. He would make lists and use mnemonics to aid in recall. But I think the role of memory was less about Samuel and more about what the protagonists were telling the interviewer about their interactions with Samuel. What they said is our only clue as to who Samuel was…his faults….why Laide and him were no longer a couple…what events contributed to the grandmother’s house burning down…and the likelihood of his car crash being a suicide or an accident. Were the protagonists relaying to the interviewer their recollections of events as best they could recall versus something less than their honest recall?
And then importantly is another protagonist in the novel who we only learn a bit more about near the it — the person who is interviewing the people who knew Samuel. Who is this person? We are told in the inside cover of the book jacket that “an unnamed writer with an agenda of his own sets out to map Samuel’s last day alive.” And “Everything I Don’t Remember” is a gripping tale about love and memory. But it is also a story about a writer who, by filling out the contours of Samuel’s story, is actually trying to grasp a truth about himself.” So we know the interviewer is a male… But near the end of the novel we are told other information from the interviewer, which is related to the role of, once again, memory. Which leads me to conclude that what we are told about Samuel could be a) what actually happened in reality, b) what protagonists related to the interviewer to make them look good or to assuage their guilt, etc. versus what they actually remembered, c) influenced by the interviewer himself, or d) all/some of the above. 😵
This book won the August Prize, Sweden’s most prestigious literary honor, in 2015. Joyce Carol Oates chose it as one of her three favorite books of 2016, calling it "enigmatic" in the Times Literary Supplement.
Reviews:
https://www.nyjournalofbooks.com/book...
https://chireviewofbooks.com/2016/07/...
https://www.heraldscotland.com/arts_e...
The inside book jacket lays out a succinct fact — that Samuel died in a car crash and it is debatable whether is was an accident or a suicide on his part. So we learn about Samuel from the protagonists in the book: an ex-girlfriend (Laide), his mother, his grandmother who is being put in an old’s folk home (right near the end of the book which is EXTREMELY important, a long-time friend of his going back to his elementary grade school days (Panther), and a man who becomes friends with Samuel (Vandad). Vandad appears to be an immigrant to Sweden and may not be well educated…one of his jobs if he can hold on to it is moving furniture. And shaking down people. Very interesting character.
You’re told near the beginning of the novel that the grandmother’s house is a charred wreckage, and that on the last day of Samuel’s life he is seen lugging a big plastic garbage bag out of the house into his grandmother’s Opel….and a neighbor sees him drive away. What does the charred house have to do with anything? A lot, as we gradually learn as the novel progresses.
Most of the book was very good, but I made a note to myself about halfway through that it was starting to lag. It was when Laide was doing the talking. But soon after it became a page turner and I couldn’t put it down.
Something that just struck me now 16 hours after reading the book but that I could not articulate after putting down the book was the role of memory in this book. I know in the book Samuel supposedly had a problem with memory. He would make lists and use mnemonics to aid in recall. But I think the role of memory was less about Samuel and more about what the protagonists were telling the interviewer about their interactions with Samuel. What they said is our only clue as to who Samuel was…his faults….why Laide and him were no longer a couple…what events contributed to the grandmother’s house burning down…and the likelihood of his car crash being a suicide or an accident. Were the protagonists relaying to the interviewer their recollections of events as best they could recall versus something less than their honest recall?
And then importantly is another protagonist in the novel who we only learn a bit more about near the it — the person who is interviewing the people who knew Samuel. Who is this person? We are told in the inside cover of the book jacket that “an unnamed writer with an agenda of his own sets out to map Samuel’s last day alive.” And “Everything I Don’t Remember” is a gripping tale about love and memory. But it is also a story about a writer who, by filling out the contours of Samuel’s story, is actually trying to grasp a truth about himself.” So we know the interviewer is a male… But near the end of the novel we are told other information from the interviewer, which is related to the role of, once again, memory. Which leads me to conclude that what we are told about Samuel could be a) what actually happened in reality, b) what protagonists related to the interviewer to make them look good or to assuage their guilt, etc. versus what they actually remembered, c) influenced by the interviewer himself, or d) all/some of the above. 😵
This book won the August Prize, Sweden’s most prestigious literary honor, in 2015. Joyce Carol Oates chose it as one of her three favorite books of 2016, calling it "enigmatic" in the Times Literary Supplement.
Reviews:
https://www.nyjournalofbooks.com/book...
https://chireviewofbooks.com/2016/07/...
https://www.heraldscotland.com/arts_e...
June 16, 2016
Marketed as comparable to Serial, this Swedish novel examines the death of a young man named Samuel who was killed in a car crash. It’s not clear whether his death was an accident or suicide, and an unnamed writer intrigued by the story decides to interview people who knew Samuel to help shed light on if and why he might have wanted to end his own life.
The impressively structured book is set up almost as transcripts of interactions between the writer and his interview subjects, with each section alternating between two different points of view. It ostensibly follows many people in Samuel’s life, but it focuses primarily on Vandad—self-described as Samuel’s best friend—and Laide—the woman Samuel was in love with. Khemiri does little to help his reader keep track of who’s speaking—he doesn’t provide introductions to any of these characters and they’re often responding to questions from the writer that we aren’t privy to—and yet it’s remarkably easy to follow.
The title of the book comes from two places: one is that Samuel struggles with his long-term memory and is afraid that he was develop the same dementia as his grandmother. The other is that no one telling Samuel’s story seems to have the same memory of various events. Everything is filtered through their own lenses. Was Laide a jealous girlfriend who made Samuel feel small? Was Vandad taking advantage of Samuel’s kindness? Had Samuel ever gotten over his childhood sweetheart, a woman who insisted on being called Panther? This muddy-ing of the layers of the story as multiple perspectives are added is really and truly where Khemiri shines. If you’re looking for a crisp, clear narrative, you’re going to be disappointed. This one’s more about playing with form than conveying the story in a particularly clear fashion. It’s not for readers who dislike ambiguity.
I was fascinated, but this wasn’t a perfect book. I never really got a strong sense of who Samuel was, which I suppose was kind of the point, though it left me mildly frustrated. Samuel’s struggles with memory could have been more fully integrated into the big picture and there were some threads that were left dangling a little too much in the end. But, overall, I found this to be a gripping read.
The impressively structured book is set up almost as transcripts of interactions between the writer and his interview subjects, with each section alternating between two different points of view. It ostensibly follows many people in Samuel’s life, but it focuses primarily on Vandad—self-described as Samuel’s best friend—and Laide—the woman Samuel was in love with. Khemiri does little to help his reader keep track of who’s speaking—he doesn’t provide introductions to any of these characters and they’re often responding to questions from the writer that we aren’t privy to—and yet it’s remarkably easy to follow.
The title of the book comes from two places: one is that Samuel struggles with his long-term memory and is afraid that he was develop the same dementia as his grandmother. The other is that no one telling Samuel’s story seems to have the same memory of various events. Everything is filtered through their own lenses. Was Laide a jealous girlfriend who made Samuel feel small? Was Vandad taking advantage of Samuel’s kindness? Had Samuel ever gotten over his childhood sweetheart, a woman who insisted on being called Panther? This muddy-ing of the layers of the story as multiple perspectives are added is really and truly where Khemiri shines. If you’re looking for a crisp, clear narrative, you’re going to be disappointed. This one’s more about playing with form than conveying the story in a particularly clear fashion. It’s not for readers who dislike ambiguity.
I was fascinated, but this wasn’t a perfect book. I never really got a strong sense of who Samuel was, which I suppose was kind of the point, though it left me mildly frustrated. Samuel’s struggles with memory could have been more fully integrated into the big picture and there were some threads that were left dangling a little too much in the end. But, overall, I found this to be a gripping read.
March 19, 2018
"Allt jag inte minns" uppfyller de högsta krav som jag har på en bok. Den är välskriven och samtidigt talar till mitt hjärta. Men jag älskar detta i den grad att jag misstänker att den inte sänder ut signaler bara till hjärtat, utan även till mina celler eller till och med till mitokondrier och DNA.
Romanen har ett ovanligt berättargrepp med flera personer, flera "jag" som minns Samuel som har dött i en trafikolycka. De talar utifån sitt perspektiv och då kan sanningen låta väldigt olika. Men Khemiri litar på mig att jag ska förstå vad som hänt, på mitt sätt naturligtvis. Oh, vad jag gillar den känsla av delaktighet. Jag blir som trollbunden och vill inte att boken ska ta slut. Jag vill stanna kvar med denna berättelse om kärlek och vänskap, svek och sorg.
Språket är sitt eget och alldeles undebart. Jonas Hassen Khemiri är mycket begåvad författare och jag tror att han kommer att bli hur stor som helst och hejar på honom. Det är min starkaste läsupplevelse på svenska sedan "Drömfakulteten".
Romanen har ett ovanligt berättargrepp med flera personer, flera "jag" som minns Samuel som har dött i en trafikolycka. De talar utifån sitt perspektiv och då kan sanningen låta väldigt olika. Men Khemiri litar på mig att jag ska förstå vad som hänt, på mitt sätt naturligtvis. Oh, vad jag gillar den känsla av delaktighet. Jag blir som trollbunden och vill inte att boken ska ta slut. Jag vill stanna kvar med denna berättelse om kärlek och vänskap, svek och sorg.
Språket är sitt eget och alldeles undebart. Jonas Hassen Khemiri är mycket begåvad författare och jag tror att han kommer att bli hur stor som helst och hejar på honom. Det är min starkaste läsupplevelse på svenska sedan "Drömfakulteten".
May 7, 2023
For thirty years I had been looking for someone to make me feel like I was one with the world. And then there was Samuel. And I celebrated by building a bubble and keeping the world at a distance. But the world was bigger than us.
*
On some level maybe I knew we would become less us once we crashed into the outside world.
*
[...] sometimes I miss that fervor, the feeling that it really was possible to bring about change.
*
[...] once again here was proof that people could not be trusted, they say they will be there but then they disappear and all that survives is the words and the naïve hope that the next sentence, no the next one, no the next one, will change everything. The crazy thing is that not even his words could be trusted because as he neared the end he realized that every time a hole appeared in Samuel’s story he had used his own memories and it was too late by the time he realized who it was that wrote lists of conversation topics and who collected definitions of love and who panicked over his crappy memory and whose dad had disappeared and whose friend no longer existed.
*
On some level maybe I knew we would become less us once we crashed into the outside world.
*
[...] sometimes I miss that fervor, the feeling that it really was possible to bring about change.
*
[...] once again here was proof that people could not be trusted, they say they will be there but then they disappear and all that survives is the words and the naïve hope that the next sentence, no the next one, no the next one, will change everything. The crazy thing is that not even his words could be trusted because as he neared the end he realized that every time a hole appeared in Samuel’s story he had used his own memories and it was too late by the time he realized who it was that wrote lists of conversation topics and who collected definitions of love and who panicked over his crappy memory and whose dad had disappeared and whose friend no longer existed.
May 31, 2021
Мужик умер. Его друзья: самое время рассказать, как мы его любили.
Это, конечно, удивительно грустный роман о жалких людях, которые вдруг обнаружили, что никакая современность не дарует вечной памяти, и даже когда ты умираешь, люди помнят только себя в тебе, и после смерти ты так или иначе разваливаешься на куски - по количеству чужих воспоминаний, но, как кротко спрашивала своего племянника мисс Марпл: «Дорогой Десмонд, неужели все люди в твоих романах должны быть такими неприятными?», и я, конечно, тоже хотела бы задать этот вопрос автору.
Это, конечно, удивительно грустный роман о жалких людях, которые вдруг обнаружили, что никакая современность не дарует вечной памяти, и даже когда ты умираешь, люди помнят только себя в тебе, и после смерти ты так или иначе разваливаешься на куски - по количеству чужих воспоминаний, но, как кротко спрашивала своего племянника мисс Марпл: «Дорогой Десмонд, неужели все люди в твоих романах должны быть такими неприятными?», и я, конечно, тоже хотела бы задать этот вопрос автору.
August 10, 2016
When Samuel dies in a car crash, an unidentified writer goes in search of the truth behind his death by interviewing his friends and family. Was Samuel’s death an accident or was it suicide? We are given Samuel’s story through the writer’s interviews with Samuel’s mother, his roommate, his childhood friend and his girlfriend as they flash backwards and forwards through time.
The mother was a flighty character who was very uncooperative and did very little to forward Samuel’s story. The roommate, Vandad is an ex-thug who decided to get an honest job once he became friends with Samuel. The childhood friend, Panther is a wild-child bohemian artist. The girlfriend, Laide is a very unlikeable and pretentious Swedish-Arabic interpreter and activist, whose only redeeming quality is that she tries to help abused women. Each of the characters reveal more about Samuel from their own selfish perspectives, making it seem very unlikely that we will ever know the real Samuel.
Everything I Don’t Remember is billed as a murder mystery in the book blurb. It really doesn’t hit the mark. I would say it simply falls under literary fiction. It’s a rather bland tale that seems to have been turned into a puzzle for some unknown reason. The unveiling at the end was more about the writer himself than Samuel. I wasn’t invested in the writer so that mattered very little to me.
Perhaps it was the very ordinariness of the characters that made this such a highly rated book. I didn’t care for or about any of them. In this case I’m convinced that it was the structural style, the political activism element and the subject of abused women that made this the winner of the August Prize in Sweden. Personally, I wasn’t satisfied with this book. It left me feeling like there should have been more to it. However, this wouldn’t be the first time I haven’t cared for a highly rated book (i.e. Gone Girl really gave me the heebie-jeebies). If you want to read something that has an unusual narrative structure, this may be a good read for you.
I want to thank the publisher (Atria Book) for providing me with the ARC through NetGalley for an honest review.
The mother was a flighty character who was very uncooperative and did very little to forward Samuel’s story. The roommate, Vandad is an ex-thug who decided to get an honest job once he became friends with Samuel. The childhood friend, Panther is a wild-child bohemian artist. The girlfriend, Laide is a very unlikeable and pretentious Swedish-Arabic interpreter and activist, whose only redeeming quality is that she tries to help abused women. Each of the characters reveal more about Samuel from their own selfish perspectives, making it seem very unlikely that we will ever know the real Samuel.
Everything I Don’t Remember is billed as a murder mystery in the book blurb. It really doesn’t hit the mark. I would say it simply falls under literary fiction. It’s a rather bland tale that seems to have been turned into a puzzle for some unknown reason. The unveiling at the end was more about the writer himself than Samuel. I wasn’t invested in the writer so that mattered very little to me.
Perhaps it was the very ordinariness of the characters that made this such a highly rated book. I didn’t care for or about any of them. In this case I’m convinced that it was the structural style, the political activism element and the subject of abused women that made this the winner of the August Prize in Sweden. Personally, I wasn’t satisfied with this book. It left me feeling like there should have been more to it. However, this wouldn’t be the first time I haven’t cared for a highly rated book (i.e. Gone Girl really gave me the heebie-jeebies). If you want to read something that has an unusual narrative structure, this may be a good read for you.
I want to thank the publisher (Atria Book) for providing me with the ARC through NetGalley for an honest review.
July 7, 2019
Ova "knjiga godine u Švedskoj 2015. godine" je ispripovedana na interesantan način. Na početku je to možda zbunjujuće, ali već nakon par strana počneš da se snalaziš u priči koju pričaju različite osobe bliske Samuelu, 26-godišnjem momku koji je na početku romana mrtav. Promena pripovedača svakako nije neobična tehnika, ali ovde se priče smenjuju jako brzo - najčešće je to nekoliko redova teksta, ponekad i jedna jedina rečenica. Svi govore to što imaju da kažu istoj osobi (piscu romana o Samuelu), ali stilovi se ipak razlikuju, a meni je posebno zanimljivo to što ovde nemaš jednog nepouzdanog naratora, već više njih.
Na početku te gura dalje to da saznaš šta se desilo, pa je roman nalik detektivskoj priči. Vremenom se ta komponenta gubi, pa nam ostaje da nagađamo ko priča istinu, ko laže namerno a ko je samo drugačije video iste događaje? Ili ih se samo drugačije seća? Ova knjiga o ljubavi, prijateljstvu, nasilju i sećanju, na momente je i zabavna, a pričaju je doseljenici, koji očigledno imaju poprilične probleme u društvuu kom bi trebalo da teče med i mleko. Švedska je država više ili manje prikrivenog fašizma i nepoverenja između autohtonih stanovnika i "crnoglavaca" (tako ih/se naziva moja sestra iz Stokholma), pa su interesantne i anegdote koje autor verovatno crpi iz vlastitog iskustva.
Zbog svog direktnog stila i brzih promena u pripovedanju, knjiga se brzo čita. Neće postati klasik i nije nešto što ću ponovo čitati, ali vredelo je. Neke kompleksne teme sagledava na dosta interesantne načine.
Na početku te gura dalje to da saznaš šta se desilo, pa je roman nalik detektivskoj priči. Vremenom se ta komponenta gubi, pa nam ostaje da nagađamo ko priča istinu, ko laže namerno a ko je samo drugačije video iste događaje? Ili ih se samo drugačije seća? Ova knjiga o ljubavi, prijateljstvu, nasilju i sećanju, na momente je i zabavna, a pričaju je doseljenici, koji očigledno imaju poprilične probleme u društvuu kom bi trebalo da teče med i mleko. Švedska je država više ili manje prikrivenog fašizma i nepoverenja između autohtonih stanovnika i "crnoglavaca" (tako ih/se naziva moja sestra iz Stokholma), pa su interesantne i anegdote koje autor verovatno crpi iz vlastitog iskustva.
Zbog svog direktnog stila i brzih promena u pripovedanju, knjiga se brzo čita. Neće postati klasik i nije nešto što ću ponovo čitati, ali vredelo je. Neke kompleksne teme sagledava na dosta interesantne načine.
June 25, 2016
Tämä kirja oli vuoden 2015 paras kirja Ruotsissa. Kirjan teemoja ovat maahanmuutto, siirtolaisuus, ystävyys, rakkaus, ja se lopussa tapahtunut juonenkäänne, jonka vuoksi kirjan päähenkilöstä Samuelista kirjoitetaan kirjaa. Kirja oli niin erikoinen, että en osaa tarpeeksi kehua sitä, mutta haluaisin lukea nyt kirjan uudestaan, kun lopetin sen lukemisen. Haluaisin lukea sen siten, että jatkaisin aina yhden henkilön kappaleista loppuun asti, sitten aloittaisin seuraavan henkilön kertomuksen. Tietysti tärkein on Vandad, Samuelin ystävä. Ihana, että kirjailija oli ottanut mukaan Samuelin isoäidin.
Lyhyet kappaleet ovat ihania, mutta ne tekivät kirjasta palapelin.
Lyhyet kappaleet ovat ihania, mutta ne tekivät kirjasta palapelin.
July 4, 2016
Everything I Don't Remember won the August prize for best Swedish fiction book of the year in 2015. Generally, the fact that it was awarded a prize would be a clear indicator that it won't be a book for me. Not so in this instance. I can actually for once understand why this book won an award.
Everything I don't remember is about Samuel who died in a horrific car crash. Was it an accident? Was it suicide? An unnamed writer sets out to reconstruct Samuel's last day and learns a lot about the young man through conversations with his imposing friend and roommate, Vandad, his ex-girlfriend, Laide, his arty childhood friend, Panther, as well as Samuel's mother and grandmother who has dementia.
If you prefer a traditional linear narrative and have all questions answered at the end, this may be difficult and ultimately unsatisfactory reading. It is ambiguous and in the end, some things are left to your own interpretation. It needs concentration as it feels like putting together a puzzle. It's very innovatively structured with small bits of dialogue without any introduction of the speaker, the perspectives change back and forth, and the timeline switches. Sounds very confusing, but I found it really easy to follow once I got past the first couple of pages. The characters are portrayed really convincingly and the atmosphere is captured extremely well. Laide is a Swedish - Arabic interpreter who is passionate about helping women and supporting asylum seekers. Samuel whose father is North African works for the migration board. Current and authentic, part of the book conveys the experience of immigrants in Sweden (though it could equally be set elsewhere). But the main focus is on how memories relate to reality. The memories of Samuel's friends show clearly that there is no objective truth and that all narrators are unreliable. It's also a very touching story about the definition of love, it's quite a painful story about grief and about making the most of the time you have.
I really enjoyed reading this. It all felt very realistic and it was easy for me to become invested in the characters although their lives were basically downright depressing but I was keen on putting the puzzle together and it was worth it in the end.
This won't be for everyone, I'm sure, but if you are open to a different reading experience with a story that is topical as well as poignant, this is worthwhile picking up.
Many thanks to Atria Books for my ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an unbiased review.
Everything I don't remember is about Samuel who died in a horrific car crash. Was it an accident? Was it suicide? An unnamed writer sets out to reconstruct Samuel's last day and learns a lot about the young man through conversations with his imposing friend and roommate, Vandad, his ex-girlfriend, Laide, his arty childhood friend, Panther, as well as Samuel's mother and grandmother who has dementia.
If you prefer a traditional linear narrative and have all questions answered at the end, this may be difficult and ultimately unsatisfactory reading. It is ambiguous and in the end, some things are left to your own interpretation. It needs concentration as it feels like putting together a puzzle. It's very innovatively structured with small bits of dialogue without any introduction of the speaker, the perspectives change back and forth, and the timeline switches. Sounds very confusing, but I found it really easy to follow once I got past the first couple of pages. The characters are portrayed really convincingly and the atmosphere is captured extremely well. Laide is a Swedish - Arabic interpreter who is passionate about helping women and supporting asylum seekers. Samuel whose father is North African works for the migration board. Current and authentic, part of the book conveys the experience of immigrants in Sweden (though it could equally be set elsewhere). But the main focus is on how memories relate to reality. The memories of Samuel's friends show clearly that there is no objective truth and that all narrators are unreliable. It's also a very touching story about the definition of love, it's quite a painful story about grief and about making the most of the time you have.
I really enjoyed reading this. It all felt very realistic and it was easy for me to become invested in the characters although their lives were basically downright depressing but I was keen on putting the puzzle together and it was worth it in the end.
This won't be for everyone, I'm sure, but if you are open to a different reading experience with a story that is topical as well as poignant, this is worthwhile picking up.
Many thanks to Atria Books for my ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an unbiased review.
June 1, 2017
Videorecensione:
https://youtu.be/TBO3JoxhO2M
https://youtu.be/TBO3JoxhO2M
May 17, 2021
Тонкая, психологичная проза о дружбе, об одиночестве, о границах ответственности за другого человека. С живой, настоящей, дышащей историей любви. С трагедией, о которой я не могу перестать думать. До сих пор не могу решить для себя, кто в ней виноват: вроде бы и все, и никто одновременно.
C современным Стокгольмом, населенным беженцами и иммигрантами в первом и втором поколении, некоторые из которых, даже родившись в Швеции, не чувствуют себя там дома.
С яркими, выпуклыми портретами героев. Вот social justice warrior, которая делает много добра чужим людям, но при этом бесжалостна и жестока к самым близким. Вот поглощенная собой творческая натура, которая умеет только принимать любовь и внимание, но не слышит отчаяния в голосе друга в его последний день на земле. Вот человек, который считает себя щедрым и бескорыстным, не думающим о деньгах, но на самом деле только о них и думает. И который, отрицая огромную часть себя, превращается в осуждающего и не принимающего других, обреченного на одиночество человека.
А еще я восхищена тем, как ловко роман сконструирован - из лоскутков и обрывков воспоминаний разных людей о погибшем молодом парне. Повествование ведется от лица загадочного незнакомца, который пытается понять, почему Самюэль погиб (несчастный случай? самоубийство?), и реконструирует вплоть до самой маленькой детали последний день из жизни Самюэля, пытаясь понять, что пошло не так в его отношениях с родителями, любимой девушкой и лучшим другом. Постепенно перед глазами выстраивается постмодернистская картинка-калейдоскоп, в которую постоянно со щелчком встраиваются новые детальки, и которую хочется разглядывать и разгадывать без остановки.
Потрясающая книга, которая меня тронула до глубины души. Кажется, это теперь мой любимый скандинавский роман, который я буду всем советовать, когда меня спрашивают о шведской литературе.
Читала я на английском. К сожалению, на русский перевели только небольшой отрывок, его можно прочесть вот здесь: https://magazines.gorky.media/zvezda/...
Зато на русский целиком переведен другой роман Кемири - "На красном глазу", его опубликовали в журнале "Иностранная литература", номер 2007 №03.
C современным Стокгольмом, населенным беженцами и иммигрантами в первом и втором поколении, некоторые из которых, даже родившись в Швеции, не чувствуют себя там дома.
С яркими, выпуклыми портретами героев. Вот social justice warrior, которая делает много добра чужим людям, но при этом бесжалостна и жестока к самым близким. Вот поглощенная собой творческая натура, которая умеет только принимать любовь и внимание, но не слышит отчаяния в голосе друга в его последний день на земле. Вот человек, который считает себя щедрым и бескорыстным, не думающим о деньгах, но на самом деле только о них и думает. И который, отрицая огромную часть себя, превращается в осуждающего и не принимающего других, обреченного на одиночество человека.
А еще я восхищена тем, как ловко роман сконструирован - из лоскутков и обрывков воспоминаний разных людей о погибшем молодом парне. Повествование ведется от лица загадочного незнакомца, который пытается понять, почему Самюэль погиб (несчастный случай? самоубийство?), и реконструирует вплоть до самой маленькой детали последний день из жизни Самюэля, пытаясь понять, что пошло не так в его отношениях с родителями, любимой девушкой и лучшим другом. Постепенно перед глазами выстраивается постмодернистская картинка-калейдоскоп, в которую постоянно со щелчком встраиваются новые детальки, и которую хочется разглядывать и разгадывать без остановки.
Потрясающая книга, которая меня тронула до глубины души. Кажется, это теперь мой любимый скандинавский роман, который я буду всем советовать, когда меня спрашивают о шведской литературе.
Читала я на английском. К сожалению, на русский перевели только небольшой отрывок, его можно прочесть вот здесь: https://magazines.gorky.media/zvezda/...
Зато на русский целиком переведен другой роман Кемири - "На красном глазу", его опубликовали в журнале "Иностранная литература", номер 2007 №03.
January 13, 2018
Kādu mēs atceramies cilvēku? Tādu, kāds viņš bija ar mums. Pat ne bija, bet drīzāk tādu, kādu redzējām. Ar savām acīm, būtību, pieredzi. Tieši tāpēc tik ļoti atšķiras tas, kā vairāki cilvēki redz vienu un to pašu cilvēku. Interesanti. Ļoti. Grāmatu lasīju pa solītim un tad skrēju, grimu iekšā, līdu laukā un domāju par to, cik daudz un kā mūs var ietekmēt cilvēki, kuri ir mums līdzās, viņu uzskati, uzvedība. Cik daudz mūsu atmiņa sagroza, cik fragmentāra tā ir, cik aizmirstam un ko atceramies – par to ir grāmata un ne tikai. Arī par iemīlēšanos, mīlestību, draudzību, spēju uzticēties.
December 4, 2023
Alltså gud vad jag älskar den här boken! Språket, formatet... allt!
October 1, 2017
Ricordati di me!
ma di quale te? L'amico di Vandad? quello di Pantera? L'amante di Laide? Il nipote della nonna sclerotica? Ognuno ne dà una versione diversa, sembra parlino di persone diverse, raccontano diverse verità. Generoso, taccagno, sensibile, falso, affettuoso, innamorato, devastato, indifferente? E gli sguardi reciproci degli amici, di chi stanno parlando? E Laide? un'anaffettiva presuntuosa o una fragile ragazza che non si fida del mondo?
Qual è la verità, se poi una verità possa esistere?
"Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra
trafitto da un raggio di sole:
ed è subito sera.
ma di quale te? L'amico di Vandad? quello di Pantera? L'amante di Laide? Il nipote della nonna sclerotica? Ognuno ne dà una versione diversa, sembra parlino di persone diverse, raccontano diverse verità. Generoso, taccagno, sensibile, falso, affettuoso, innamorato, devastato, indifferente? E gli sguardi reciproci degli amici, di chi stanno parlando? E Laide? un'anaffettiva presuntuosa o una fragile ragazza che non si fida del mondo?
Qual è la verità, se poi una verità possa esistere?
"Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra
trafitto da un raggio di sole:
ed è subito sera.
June 22, 2018
Три неща.
Обикнах тази книга.
Недейте да четете анонса на последната корица и въобще нищо за нея - всичко е спойлър.
"Как е Вандад? Как е Вандад?"
Обикнах тази книга.
Недейте да четете анонса на последната корица и въобще нищо за нея - всичко е спойлър.
"Как е Вандад? Как е Вандад?"
September 1, 2016
I was expecting the story to be about a man whose death is ruled either a suicide or accident. About a man who fell in love and died of a broken heart.
My expectations were exceeded as it was much, much more.
It is about a man who had to jot down events in his Experience Bank because he was paranoid about not remembering.
You're luck you have such an awesome memory.
Why?
Because it means you still have him. He's not dead. He lives on. Thanks to you.
It is about a writer who had once met the man who died and heads up the quest to find out what events led to the man's death through interviewing those who had contact with him the day he died. This leads him to Vandad & Laide.
As the story unfolds, different perspectives emerge, where each one's point-of-view of the same event do not match verbatim. This would pose the question of who is telling the truth? Whose story can be trusted?
The answer lies in the telling. We are reminded, as we are audience to the dialogue, that one's memory of an event shared will be different from another's own memory.
In the end, he couldn't take it anymore. He made up his mind. He was ready. He made the decision. We're the ones who have to live with it.
It would have been bittersweet to know more about the the unnamed writer and what happened to E. It seemed we are led to believe the writer was dealing more with relieving himself from responsibility, trying to convince perhaps himself that the deaths of these two are one and the same, and taints the dead man's story with his own memories.
The author's writing style is unique that I found to be an ingenuous distraction in a dark read.
Elements of ethnicity, mental illness, stagnant abuse, political correctness, and faces of love are interwoven through the characters many reviewers who have posted do not care too much for, and in the gathering of details during the interviews.
And what a powerful last line, powerful because of the relationship it stood for.
My expectations were exceeded as it was much, much more.
It is about a man who had to jot down events in his Experience Bank because he was paranoid about not remembering.
You're luck you have such an awesome memory.
Why?
Because it means you still have him. He's not dead. He lives on. Thanks to you.
It is about a writer who had once met the man who died and heads up the quest to find out what events led to the man's death through interviewing those who had contact with him the day he died. This leads him to Vandad & Laide.
As the story unfolds, different perspectives emerge, where each one's point-of-view of the same event do not match verbatim. This would pose the question of who is telling the truth? Whose story can be trusted?
The answer lies in the telling. We are reminded, as we are audience to the dialogue, that one's memory of an event shared will be different from another's own memory.
In the end, he couldn't take it anymore. He made up his mind. He was ready. He made the decision. We're the ones who have to live with it.
It would have been bittersweet to know more about the the unnamed writer and what happened to E. It seemed we are led to believe the writer was dealing more with relieving himself from responsibility, trying to convince perhaps himself that the deaths of these two are one and the same, and taints the dead man's story with his own memories.
The author's writing style is unique that I found to be an ingenuous distraction in a dark read.
Elements of ethnicity, mental illness, stagnant abuse, political correctness, and faces of love are interwoven through the characters many reviewers who have posted do not care too much for, and in the gathering of details during the interviews.
And what a powerful last line, powerful because of the relationship it stood for.
January 3, 2019
Niekedy je ťažké hodnotiť knihu, ktorá vás osloví a v niektorých prípadoch je to viac subjektívne. Toto je jeden z prípadov. Lebo nezabudnem na to, o čom táto kniha bola. Lebo sa mi páčilo ako bola napísaná. Lebo hovorí o tom ako sa rôzni ľudia pozerajú na rôzne situácie, všetci majú svoju pravdu a všetci sa mýlia. Lebo si myslím, že neexistuje žiadny pravý ani žiadna pravá a keď odložíme po čase ružové okuliare sú to len také drísty. Lebo čím viac sú ľudia na sebe závislí, tým viac si ubližujú. Spociatku som myslela, že knihu ani nedočítam, dosť dlho mi trvalo, kým som si zvykla na ten zvláštny štýl a striedanie postáv, preto som rada, že som vytrvala :)
December 1, 2019
Skandinavijos literatūros padangę drebina knyga “Viskas, ko neprisimenu”, tad tik gavus progą, kimbu į šį išgirtą pasakojimą. Lūkesčiai dideli - nemeluosiu.
Knygos autorius Jonas Hassen Kemari švedas, turintis tunisietiškų šaknų iš tėvo pusės. Daugiakultūriškumo įtaka jaučiama ir kūrinyje. Pagrindinis herojus - Samuelis, kurio kraujas pusiau švediškas su Afrikos dykumų karščio prieskoniu. Kaip ir rašytojo iš tėvo pusės. Herojus turi problemų su ilgalaike atmintimi. Jis daug ko neprisimena, tad yra puikus klausytojas be jokių išankstinių nusistatymų. Už tai jį labai myli jo geriausias draugas. Pačiam Samueliui atminties spragos kelia didžiulį nerimą, tad jis net pradeda vesti užrašus, kad tik geriau viską prisimintų. Be to herojus gyvena tarsi nuolat pildydamas sąrašą patirčių, kurias nori išjausti kol gyvas. Faktas tas, kad niekas iki pat sielos gelmių jo nesujaudina, niekas neišjudina ir nepriverčia jausti kažko stipraus. Tas nuolatinis vaikščiojimas paviršiumi herojų sekina ir verčia griebtis ganėtinai keistų būdų jausmams iššaukti. Atsiranda mergina. Puiki mergina: diplomuoti vertėja, protinga, empatiška, padedanti Švedijoje atsidūrusioms arabų kilmės moterima. Ji tikra kovotoja. Ši mergina priverčia Samuelį pajausti kažką daugiau. Bet Samuelis žuva avarijoje. Tyčia ar ne - šio kūrinio kertinis klausimas.
Po avarijos neįvardintas rašytojas pradeda tyrinėti vaikino aplinką ir bando atskleisti jo mirties aplinkybes. Samuelis tyrinėjamas kaip sūnus, draugas, darbuotojas, vaikinas. Čia iškyla esminė knygos tema - atmintis. Pasakojimas nevienalytis. Kiekvienas istoriją mato savaip. Klausimų daugiau nei atsakymų. Ar tikrai tobula mergina buvo tik viršelis, po kuriuo slėpėsi iti pavydi ir linkusi kontroliuoti moteris? Ar geriausias draugas tik dėjosi tokiu, o išties naudojosi Samuelio dosnumu ir jį išnaudojo?
Skaitant knygą nuolat lydi netikrumo jausmas. Negalime pasitikėti niekuo. Nei pasakotojas nei Samuelio aplinka nėra tai, kuo reiktų tikėti šimtu procentų. Gal negalime pasitikėti net savo pačių atmintimi? Kartu ir vaikino portretas nepasižymi išbaigtumu ar aiškumu. Lieka neaišku, kas jis toks. Mane tai trikdė. Ar toks ir buvo rašytojo sumanymas? Gal tai ir rodo, kad atmintis nepatikimas liudytojas? Vis tik keista, kad pagrindinis herojus, ant kurio ir pastatytas pasakojimas, lieka neišbaigtas. Na, bet palieku ši klausimą atvirą, nes, kaip minėjau, galbūt tai interpretacijos klausimas.
Tekstas taip pat fragmentiškas. Sudarytas tarsi iš mažų
pamąstymų ir pasakotojas nuolat keičiasi. Tas šiek tiek apsunkina skaitymą. Kita vertus, autorius rado būdą atskleisti ir sustiprinti atminties nepatikimumui. Taigi susikaupimas skaitant tekstą būtinas.
Kam skaityti? Linijinio ir aiškaus pasakojimo mylėtojams šis kūrinys gali pasirodyti per sunkus. Siūlau bandyti skandinaviškos literatūros gerbėjams ir tiems, kas ieško kažko naujo, neįprasto, net eksperimentinio. Gero skaitymo!
Knygos autorius Jonas Hassen Kemari švedas, turintis tunisietiškų šaknų iš tėvo pusės. Daugiakultūriškumo įtaka jaučiama ir kūrinyje. Pagrindinis herojus - Samuelis, kurio kraujas pusiau švediškas su Afrikos dykumų karščio prieskoniu. Kaip ir rašytojo iš tėvo pusės. Herojus turi problemų su ilgalaike atmintimi. Jis daug ko neprisimena, tad yra puikus klausytojas be jokių išankstinių nusistatymų. Už tai jį labai myli jo geriausias draugas. Pačiam Samueliui atminties spragos kelia didžiulį nerimą, tad jis net pradeda vesti užrašus, kad tik geriau viską prisimintų. Be to herojus gyvena tarsi nuolat pildydamas sąrašą patirčių, kurias nori išjausti kol gyvas. Faktas tas, kad niekas iki pat sielos gelmių jo nesujaudina, niekas neišjudina ir nepriverčia jausti kažko stipraus. Tas nuolatinis vaikščiojimas paviršiumi herojų sekina ir verčia griebtis ganėtinai keistų būdų jausmams iššaukti. Atsiranda mergina. Puiki mergina: diplomuoti vertėja, protinga, empatiška, padedanti Švedijoje atsidūrusioms arabų kilmės moterima. Ji tikra kovotoja. Ši mergina priverčia Samuelį pajausti kažką daugiau. Bet Samuelis žuva avarijoje. Tyčia ar ne - šio kūrinio kertinis klausimas.
Po avarijos neįvardintas rašytojas pradeda tyrinėti vaikino aplinką ir bando atskleisti jo mirties aplinkybes. Samuelis tyrinėjamas kaip sūnus, draugas, darbuotojas, vaikinas. Čia iškyla esminė knygos tema - atmintis. Pasakojimas nevienalytis. Kiekvienas istoriją mato savaip. Klausimų daugiau nei atsakymų. Ar tikrai tobula mergina buvo tik viršelis, po kuriuo slėpėsi iti pavydi ir linkusi kontroliuoti moteris? Ar geriausias draugas tik dėjosi tokiu, o išties naudojosi Samuelio dosnumu ir jį išnaudojo?
Skaitant knygą nuolat lydi netikrumo jausmas. Negalime pasitikėti niekuo. Nei pasakotojas nei Samuelio aplinka nėra tai, kuo reiktų tikėti šimtu procentų. Gal negalime pasitikėti net savo pačių atmintimi? Kartu ir vaikino portretas nepasižymi išbaigtumu ar aiškumu. Lieka neaišku, kas jis toks. Mane tai trikdė. Ar toks ir buvo rašytojo sumanymas? Gal tai ir rodo, kad atmintis nepatikimas liudytojas? Vis tik keista, kad pagrindinis herojus, ant kurio ir pastatytas pasakojimas, lieka neišbaigtas. Na, bet palieku ši klausimą atvirą, nes, kaip minėjau, galbūt tai interpretacijos klausimas.
Tekstas taip pat fragmentiškas. Sudarytas tarsi iš mažų
pamąstymų ir pasakotojas nuolat keičiasi. Tas šiek tiek apsunkina skaitymą. Kita vertus, autorius rado būdą atskleisti ir sustiprinti atminties nepatikimumui. Taigi susikaupimas skaitant tekstą būtinas.
Kam skaityti? Linijinio ir aiškaus pasakojimo mylėtojams šis kūrinys gali pasirodyti per sunkus. Siūlau bandyti skandinaviškos literatūros gerbėjams ir tiems, kas ieško kažko naujo, neįprasto, net eksperimentinio. Gero skaitymo!
November 1, 2019
3.5, rounded down.
An enigmatic novel that remains something of a mystery, even once it's finished... but that IS somewhat the point. It's not an entirely satisfying read, but since I raced through it in under 24 hours, that does say something, and I'd be interested in reading more of the author's works, especially his much lauded plays.
An enigmatic novel that remains something of a mystery, even once it's finished... but that IS somewhat the point. It's not an entirely satisfying read, but since I raced through it in under 24 hours, that does say something, and I'd be interested in reading more of the author's works, especially his much lauded plays.
June 20, 2016
Åh, jag orkar inte ens. Älskar bra böcker. Jag kan typ inte andas, godnatt.
October 23, 2015
Frågan är när jag köpte en sådan efterlängtad bok senast? Det märkliga är att den sedan blev liggande några dagar, som fanns det ett motstånd att verkligen öppna pärmen och börja. För det kan väl inte vara lika bra som man hoppas?
Jo, det kan det och det är det. De skyhöga förväntningarna infrias och jag känner redan efter några sidor hur jag sugs in i handlingen. En lätt panik uppstår när jag själv tycker att jag bara börjat och inser - i samma stund som författaren själv skriver in, ungefär på sidan 174, att vi nu kommit halvvägs - och då försöker jag dra ut på det. På läsningen, på njutningen, på upplösningen. Det går inte att dra ut på det, för jag vill läsa klart, vill veta.
Allt jag inte minns handlar främst om tre personer: Samuel som redan i inledningen förklaras död, Vandad som sitter i fängelse och Laide som var Samuels stora kärlek och han hennes. Samtidigt är berättaren, författaren, också en huvudperson, men han är den som intervjuar de andra för att försöka få klarhet i vad det är som har hänt. I kortare eller längre fragment kommer de olika personerna till tals och under tiden växer deras personligheter fram, de olika perspektiven på hur de har uppfattat händelser och andra personer beskrivs och det står snart klart att sanningen kan låta på många olika sätt.
Det är svårt att sätta ord på den här läsupplevelsen, men jag som har legat i lästorka en tid tänker att just ordet läsupplevelse är ett ganska bra epitet för vad den här boken har gjort för mig. Jag läser och lever upp. Läsupplevelse i ny tappning, liksom. Så otroligt bra. Heja Jonas.
Jo, det kan det och det är det. De skyhöga förväntningarna infrias och jag känner redan efter några sidor hur jag sugs in i handlingen. En lätt panik uppstår när jag själv tycker att jag bara börjat och inser - i samma stund som författaren själv skriver in, ungefär på sidan 174, att vi nu kommit halvvägs - och då försöker jag dra ut på det. På läsningen, på njutningen, på upplösningen. Det går inte att dra ut på det, för jag vill läsa klart, vill veta.
Allt jag inte minns handlar främst om tre personer: Samuel som redan i inledningen förklaras död, Vandad som sitter i fängelse och Laide som var Samuels stora kärlek och han hennes. Samtidigt är berättaren, författaren, också en huvudperson, men han är den som intervjuar de andra för att försöka få klarhet i vad det är som har hänt. I kortare eller längre fragment kommer de olika personerna till tals och under tiden växer deras personligheter fram, de olika perspektiven på hur de har uppfattat händelser och andra personer beskrivs och det står snart klart att sanningen kan låta på många olika sätt.
Det är svårt att sätta ord på den här läsupplevelsen, men jag som har legat i lästorka en tid tänker att just ordet läsupplevelse är ett ganska bra epitet för vad den här boken har gjort för mig. Jag läser och lever upp. Läsupplevelse i ny tappning, liksom. Så otroligt bra. Heja Jonas.
June 1, 2017
This new book (2016) is an account of the tender decade we all go through from our late teens to late twenties when choices are made. The characters are a compelling mix of sweet and self-absorbed. A twist is that they are primarily children of immigrants making a life in Sweden. One character is humorously prepared at a house party to be asked, "do you feel Swedish?" These characters are definitely Swedish, but they also identify as citizens of the world. This reflects an attitude I hope points an evolution out of the destructiveness of nationalism.
I was reluctant to write a review because I lent my book out and cannot provide any quotes so I'll have to resort to, 'take it from me you'll like it!' and I certainly feel that way. This is a beautifully written novel with humor and emotional depth
I was reluctant to write a review because I lent my book out and cannot provide any quotes so I'll have to resort to, 'take it from me you'll like it!' and I certainly feel that way. This is a beautifully written novel with humor and emotional depth
December 19, 2023
".. viņš pētīja savu seju tā, it kā tā būtu atrisinājums mīklai, kuru viņš ir aizmirsis."
Brīnišķīga grāmata. Reizē maģiska un ļoti īsta. Precīzie jūtu tēlojumi man radīja sajūtu, ka autors izcili pazīst ne tikai sevis radītos tēlus, bet arī mūs visus.
Grāmata, kuru es noteikti atcerēšos un pēc laika pārskatīšu tajā atzīmētos citātus.
"- Es nezinu, vai esmu iemīlējies, - sacīja Samuels. - Es drīzāk jūtos... slims. Nevesels."
Brīnišķīga grāmata. Reizē maģiska un ļoti īsta. Precīzie jūtu tēlojumi man radīja sajūtu, ka autors izcili pazīst ne tikai sevis radītos tēlus, bet arī mūs visus.
Grāmata, kuru es noteikti atcerēšos un pēc laika pārskatīšu tajā atzīmētos citātus.
"- Es nezinu, vai esmu iemīlējies, - sacīja Samuels. - Es drīzāk jūtos... slims. Nevesels."
March 7, 2016
Rett og slett ei fantastisk bra bok. Som i starten minnet meg om Tiller's innsirklingsprosjekt, men som utrolig nok gav meg mye mer. Større omtale kommer.
July 28, 2018
Devo dire che su questo romanzo avevo dei dubbi.
Devo dire che mi sbagliavo.
È veramente bello. Ti prende poco a poco e quando si arriva alla fine lascia quasi il magone.
Samuel è morto. Lo sappiamo dalla prima pagina e sappiamo che c’è questo scrittore - ma chi? - un vicino di casa a Berlino della Pantera - ah. - Uno svedese che però è mezzo tunisino - ah. - c’è lo scrittore, dicevamo, che decide di ricostruire l’ultimo giorno di vita di Samuel per capire meglio cosa lo ha condotto a schiantarsi in auto.
Solo che un giorno è un po’ tutta la vita di questo ragazzo. Le sue manie, le sue paure, quello che non riesce ad affrontare, la sua normalità e il fallimento causato dalle migliori intenzioni. Non solo sue, ma di tutti. Di Vandad, l’amico (solo amico?), coinquilino, ex picchiatore per recupero crediti di uno strozzino, traslocatore, sfruttatore. Della Pantera, la ex, artista ispirata da esperienze sintetiche e stupefacenti che molla tutto e va a Berlino. Di Laide, il grande amore, che però è incapace di amare o di amarsi o di accettare che stare con qualcun altro, in generale, prevede anche dei compromessi. Della nonna, ricoverata in una casa di riposo, affetta da demenza senile. E del vicino xenofobo, del personale della casa di riposo, dello scrittore stesso, di Samuel stesso a un certo punto.
Il racconto si svolge sempre a due voci nell’arco dei capitoli. Una racconta Samuel. L’altra racconta Samuel, in un altro modo.
E alla fine, cosa capiamo di Samuel? Niente. Tranne la sua solitudine, la voglia pazza di uscirne, la fiducia e l’ingenuità nel mondo, l’attaccarsi a persone che non lo possono di certo salvare, perché hanno bisogno che pensi lui a tirare avanti anche loro.
Questo Samuel un po’ tonto e irritante dei primi capitoli diventa mano a mano un antieroe suo malgrado e conquista grazie alle fragilità, che per quanto respingenti alla fine lo rendono solo umano.
Khemiri non salva nessuno. Gli immigrati, gli svedesi, le famiglie, gli individui, la società. Ne ha per tutti. Lo fa mettendo insieme un bel romanzo nel quale non tralascia di utilizzare tutta la tecnica drammaturgica che ha in quanto affermato autore di teatro. Soprattutto, ricicla quello che deve essere stata la sua vita da svedese figlio di una donna araba e figlio di una famiglia ricca. Uno svedese due volte strano, per i ricchi svedesi che solo sangue scandinavo vantano alla faccia delle pubblicità Ikea e che non vedono di buon occhio uno con la pelle più scura tanto quanto gli svedesi immigrati dei quartieri ghetto non vedono di buon occhio uno che avrà pure i tratti somatici da tunisino, ma vive nei quartieri ricchi e frequenta le scuole più esclusive.
Quattro stelle che tendono alle 5.
Devo dire che mi sbagliavo.
È veramente bello. Ti prende poco a poco e quando si arriva alla fine lascia quasi il magone.
Samuel è morto. Lo sappiamo dalla prima pagina e sappiamo che c’è questo scrittore - ma chi? - un vicino di casa a Berlino della Pantera - ah. - Uno svedese che però è mezzo tunisino - ah. - c’è lo scrittore, dicevamo, che decide di ricostruire l’ultimo giorno di vita di Samuel per capire meglio cosa lo ha condotto a schiantarsi in auto.
Solo che un giorno è un po’ tutta la vita di questo ragazzo. Le sue manie, le sue paure, quello che non riesce ad affrontare, la sua normalità e il fallimento causato dalle migliori intenzioni. Non solo sue, ma di tutti. Di Vandad, l’amico (solo amico?), coinquilino, ex picchiatore per recupero crediti di uno strozzino, traslocatore, sfruttatore. Della Pantera, la ex, artista ispirata da esperienze sintetiche e stupefacenti che molla tutto e va a Berlino. Di Laide, il grande amore, che però è incapace di amare o di amarsi o di accettare che stare con qualcun altro, in generale, prevede anche dei compromessi. Della nonna, ricoverata in una casa di riposo, affetta da demenza senile. E del vicino xenofobo, del personale della casa di riposo, dello scrittore stesso, di Samuel stesso a un certo punto.
Il racconto si svolge sempre a due voci nell’arco dei capitoli. Una racconta Samuel. L’altra racconta Samuel, in un altro modo.
E alla fine, cosa capiamo di Samuel? Niente. Tranne la sua solitudine, la voglia pazza di uscirne, la fiducia e l’ingenuità nel mondo, l’attaccarsi a persone che non lo possono di certo salvare, perché hanno bisogno che pensi lui a tirare avanti anche loro.
Questo Samuel un po’ tonto e irritante dei primi capitoli diventa mano a mano un antieroe suo malgrado e conquista grazie alle fragilità, che per quanto respingenti alla fine lo rendono solo umano.
Khemiri non salva nessuno. Gli immigrati, gli svedesi, le famiglie, gli individui, la società. Ne ha per tutti. Lo fa mettendo insieme un bel romanzo nel quale non tralascia di utilizzare tutta la tecnica drammaturgica che ha in quanto affermato autore di teatro. Soprattutto, ricicla quello che deve essere stata la sua vita da svedese figlio di una donna araba e figlio di una famiglia ricca. Uno svedese due volte strano, per i ricchi svedesi che solo sangue scandinavo vantano alla faccia delle pubblicità Ikea e che non vedono di buon occhio uno con la pelle più scura tanto quanto gli svedesi immigrati dei quartieri ghetto non vedono di buon occhio uno che avrà pure i tratti somatici da tunisino, ma vive nei quartieri ricchi e frequenta le scuole più esclusive.
Quattro stelle che tendono alle 5.
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