Pocketbok, 99 sidor
På svenska
Publicerades 2002 av Modernista.
En klassiker.
Kortprosa.
Kyrklund är excentrisk - en författare som skriver om existentiella villkor med inslag av humor. Svindlande bra ibland, särskilt den inledande texten.
Speaking of great Scandinavian writers, this finely sculpted piece of modernism convinces me even further that Kyrklund is as good as they get. A short story told through three voices; Master Ma, the Chinese philosopher who uses his life as inspiration for his musings on the Human Condition and the great struggle forward (this was written in the 50s and ends with a moon rocket) which is far more interesting than actual humanity. His aphorisms and koans are then footnoted and undercut by his servant girl Yao. Her footnotes are then in turn footnoted and undercut by a later expert, who dismisses her as a foolish emotional woman wanting to make the old man look good and changing the story. Not completely dissimilar to Pale Fire in both form and scope, but cooked down to under 100 pages, letting the actual story just show up in glimpses that are immediately …
Speaking of great Scandinavian writers, this finely sculpted piece of modernism convinces me even further that Kyrklund is as good as they get. A short story told through three voices; Master Ma, the Chinese philosopher who uses his life as inspiration for his musings on the Human Condition and the great struggle forward (this was written in the 50s and ends with a moon rocket) which is far more interesting than actual humanity. His aphorisms and koans are then footnoted and undercut by his servant girl Yao. Her footnotes are then in turn footnoted and undercut by a later expert, who dismisses her as a foolish emotional woman wanting to make the old man look good and changing the story. Not completely dissimilar to Pale Fire in both form and scope, but cooked down to under 100 pages, letting the actual story just show up in glimpses that are immediately questioned by the people living it… Not a casual browsing read, but coming right after the huge meal of Knausgård’s frustrated attempts to get writing, Kyrklund’s deconstruction of the whole idea of storytelling sobers me up like a triple espresso.
