The Book of Disquiet (Penguin Modern Classics) by Fernando Pessoa (PDF)

Description

With its astounding hardcover reviews Richard Zenith’s new complete translation of THE BOOK OF DISQUIET has now taken on a similar iconic status to ULYSSES, THE TRIAL or IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME as one of the greatest but also strangest modernist texts. An assembly of sometimes linked fragments, it is a mesmerising, haunting ‘novel’ without parallel in any other culture.

User’s Reviews

Reviews from Amazon users which were colected at the time this book was published on the website:

⭐”B of D” is a work of pure genius written in gloriously lyrical, existential prose: it wants to be poetry and, at times, it is.Pessoa is a profoundly introspective and honest writer who defined existential themes based upon his frank study of his own life and dreams: it’s possible that Pessoa is the most honest writer who ever lived. He is highly self-critical, self-effacing and suffers from the “disquiet” of his simple life as a bookkeeper in Lisbon. He wrote “B of D” in that richly germinal literary era in Europe of Proust and Joyce.He composed 481 fragments about the absurdity of life by which he means the inability of man to understand his own existence.”Each of us is a speck of dust that the wind lifts up and then drops.”Pessoa’s disquieting themes eventually grew into the philosophical worldview claimed by the existentialists but he was an existentialist before many of them. Pessoa writes with the passion of Nietzsche. He is Camus before Camus. He has Kafka’s rich sense of the absurd. He experiences daily Sartre’s nausea.I devoured every word of “B of D” by Pessoa who had the misfortune to remain largely undiscovered and unread until long after his death. His work is existential in the genre of Camus or Sartre (“I think, therefore, I am a mustache.”) He is dark, at times, but his introspection is oceanic in its breadth, depth and turbulent existential Angst.His writing has been described as “semi-fiction” and “anti-literature” by his translator. Great writers inevitably challenge the logic of traditional syntax as well as the genres in which they write to transform their genres by the genius of their innovative literary styles which become legacies in themselves.Pessoa writes in fragments which are neither fiction nor poetry but are autobiographical and as such show his disconnect both with life and his own art — there is no real flow between one fragment and the next like life itself in his existential worldview. He considered his life “an intermission with band music.”He also wrote in heteronyms under several noms de plume as if to say he couldn’t really even attest to his own single identity as a writer. His fragments are deep, consuming, intellectual dives into his own everyday life. Normally, autobiography is a sign of an immature writer, which Pessoa clearly is not. He writes about his dull job as an accountant among Lisbon’s streets and his sightings while smoking at outdoor cafes as well as about thunderstorms, solitude, dreams, the absurdity and futility of life, art, sex, JJ Rousseau and his work.My only criticism of Pessoa comes from his odd observations and poor advice about sex. His translator, Richard Zenith, believes it was possible that Pessoa died a virgin. I make it a practice never ever to take advice on sex from priests, nuns and lifelong virgins.Richard Zenith’s translation is truly luminous and he brings rich nuance into the discourse of every line. Like my copy of “The Recognitions” by William Gaddis, I have underlined fragments on nearly every page because it is so deeply relevant, honest and compelling in its pure intellectual grandeur.Here are a few favorite passages which stand out for me from “B of D”:”Irony is the first sign that our consciousness has become conscious and it passes through two stages: the one represented by Socrates, when he says, “All I know is that I know nothing’ and the other represented by Sanches, when he says, ‘I don’t even know if I know nothing.'””No one understands anyone else… However much one soul strives to now another, he can know only what is told him by a word — a shapeless shadow on the ground of his understanding… I love expressions because I know nothing of what they express.””I don’t know the meaning of this journey I was forced to make, between one and another night, in the company of the whole universe… We achieve nothing. Life hurls us like a stone, and we sail through the air saying, ‘Look at me move.'””The only attitude worthy of a superior man is to persist in an activity he recognizes is useless, to observe a discipline he knows is sterile, and to apply certain norms of philosophical and metaphysical thought that he considers utterly inconsequential.””All life is a dream. No one knows what he’s doing, no one knows what he wants, no one knows what he knows. We sleep our lives, eternal children of Destiny. That’s why, whenever this sensation rules my thoughts, I feel an enormous tenderness that encompasses the whole of childish humanity, the whole of sleeping society, everyone, everything. It’s an immediate humanitarianism, without aims or conclusions, that overwhelms me right now. I feel a tenderness as if I were seeing with the eyes of a god. I see everyone as if moved by the compassion of the world’s only conscious being. Poor hapless men, poor hapless humanity! What are they all doing here?”He worked uselessly every business day for a brute capitalist and recognized by night that his writing was utterly hopelessly, inscrutably and irretrievably futile. The miracle, and the sense of this should not be lost upon you, is that every day he still writes anyway like Van Gogh painting despite making only one sale in his lifetime.I recognized Pessoa instantly from the first few fragments of his life in “B of D”: I am Pessoa. And he is also you.”Book of Disquiet” is life changing. I can’t remember ever having been so disappointed to see a book come to an end: it’s that good. I implore you to read this immortal literary work of genius by Pessoa. It may be absurd, and even futile, to do so but sometimes the best answer to both is simply to be just as absurd.the content itself is incredible, chose this one because of the reviews that zenith has the best edit. though I wish the material of this one was of higher quality, unfortunately the sheets are as thin as tissue paper. penguin can do better, but I still like itPessoa adopts one of his fabled personae—an assistant bookkeeper in a colorless office in Lisbon, in this case–as a launch pad for observations about the neighborhood and the city, and for apercus about art, life, and everything else. Often contrarian and eccentric, they are almost always provocative. So I made my way very slowly through this dense diary/journal, chewing over passages and following mental tangents inspired by Pessoa. The best illustration might be some of the shorter passages themselves. These were culled from a mere 10 pages toward the end, though I flagged hundreds along the way. This was a unique reading experience, one of the monuments of my literary life.I killed my will by analyzing it. If only I could return to my childhood before analysis, even if it would have to be before I had a will!I’d like to be in the country to be able to like being in the city. I like being in the city in any case, but I’d like it twice over if I were in the country.It often happens that I don’t know myself, which is typical of those who know themselves.Having seen how lucidly and logically certain madmen justify their lunatic ideas to themselves and to others, I can never again be sure of the lucidness of my lucidity.I have never been able to lose myself in a book; as I’m reading, the commentary of my intellect or imagination has always hindered the narrative flow.Pride all by itself, unaccompanied by vanity, manifests itself in timid behavior.There’s no happiness without knowledge. But the knowledge of happiness brings unhappiness, because to know that you’re happy is to realize that you’re experiencing a happy moment and will soon have to leave it behind.The melancholic Job said in the Book of Job: “My soul is weary of my life.”The melancholic Fernando Pessoa said in his Book of Disquiet: “The whole of the human tragedy is summed up in this tiny example of how the people we think about are never the people we think they are.” …… “Each of us is two, and when two people meet, come into contact or join together, it’s rare that the four of them can agree. If the man who dreams in the man who acts is so frequently at odds with him, how can he help but beat odds with the man who acts and the man who dreams in the Other?” …… So “every coming together is a conflict.” …… LOVE is for Fernando Pessoa: SURRENDER! ” The greater the surrender, the greater the love. But total surrender also surrenders its consciousness of the other. …… The greatest Love is therefore Death …… or forgetting, …… or renunciation – all forms of love …… that make love an absurdity.” …… Pessoa often is talking metaphysics. But isn’t he right when he writes: …… ” […] all of life is a metaphysics in the darkness, with a vague murmur of the gods and only one way to follow, which is our ignorance of the right way.” …… Fernando Pessoa’s clarity in his “Book of Disquiet” helped me to respect ‘my’ dreams as “confessions” of the diaphanous spirit beyond semiosis.This review is for the unabridged audio version by Naxos on 16 CDs, this version has been compiled and edited by Richard Zenith. The reader is Adam Sims and is excellent. In fact he is such a great reader, that now I cannot imagine Pessoa’s or Bernardo’s voice, intonation and interpretation, different from his!There is missing text in the recording acknowledged by the narrator, the book itself I believe was not completed by the time the author passed away, what I do not understand is why the narrator sometimes reads that text is missing, and sometimes he doesn’t.At the end of this audiobook, there is a note about the author and the many choices of names he adopted, including Bernardo Soares.This book, not without substance, is written in form of a diary, or rather fragments, there are no dates, and is written in first person narration by the author Bernardo Soares, a very solitary man who lives or wants to live outside society, rents 2 rooms and this is his only home where he lives alone and he works as a book keeper in an office.The subject of religion is complex, at first listen, I found it contradictory at times, yes he is an atheist but it seems to me that sometimes he acknowledges the presence of the Creator.There are poetic descriptions of the sky and the air and the breeze, all this seems to be overshadowed by the view of a man who appears to be too cynical and beyond depression.I am an outsider myself, but many times I found myself thinking ‘no, no. no, it’s not so …. Or what is he saying?’I see beauty in the life he is leading, in the opportunities he might have or create for himself, he is not blind or disabled, only this is and should be cause for celebration, he is free and independent, he has a job that although monotonous, can bring rewards. He is in his own country, not everyone can choose to be in their own country in this life.In a few words, he does not know, he is not aware of the good fortunes he enjoys.I have mixed feelings about the book: if I read it 20 years ago, my reaction might have been different, but now …..For all the people who, by force or choice, find themselves in a situation of social isolation, if this is the right concept here, if they must or will get used to this, they get used to this and they will find a certain freedom, a liberty that is not present when one is in company of other people.He is not celebrating this, he treats other people with contempt, or anyway this is my understanding.From my point of view he had a lot to be grateful for: I would like to know where his contempt of others would go, if he were dependent on others because of, for example, some health condition that would impair his independence …. He also had to be grateful he had a job, and he had to be grateful that he was not forced to migrate to another country, where possibly he would have been a fish out of water there, and from where, he might not have been able to come back to his native country.From the point of view of someone who considers all this, some of the content seems a little pretentious and certainly cynical and willingly sad, irreversibly beyond apathy.I do not think that this attitude, which could be considered ‘snobbish’, is deliberate, this is one of the many reactions to pain and suffering, it is very easy, for example, for a sighted and able person, to take health for granted, and not see the beauty of independence and freedom.…. I am reminded of the author’s words when defining this bookBeautiful and uselessWould I recommend this book? no. there are passages which in my opinion, describe what I personally think, would never be able to describe, part of chapter 114 is an example, his description of his dream world is excellent and I understand it completely, but there are other sessions that I would not definitely recommend.It’s writing, but it’s not a book. Pessoa’s prose is dense and fascinating, but it goes nowhere and becomes exhausting after a few pages. There’s no story – just a collection of pieces that may – or may not – finally cohere if you get to the end. Not a pleasure to read.The book consists of 481 passages , the writings of the alter ego Soares of Fernando Pessoa, who is said to have had multiple personalities. Whether they contain the thoughts and beliefs of Pessoa, or what he imagined his creation Soares would think is impossible to say. The passages get rather repetitive , with many concerned with the world of dreams and how it relates to the physical world in Soares’ mind. There is an additional anthology with some passages grouped in themes. This is a highly praised edition, with the complex philosophical ideas having been translated accurately according to reviewers.Fernando Pessoa remains one of the most enigmatic writers of the 20th Century. Thanks to the recovery of a trunk, full of unpublished manuscripts, and the recognition of the poet’s genius, we are slowly beginning to build up a picture of his marvellous universe. Thanks especially to Richard Zenith.For those familiar with Kierkegaard will recognise the idea of using a false personage to write a piece. In Kierkegaard’s case, his numerous alter egos were ways of articulating a subtle and sophisticated truth of our condition. Pessoa, in an imaginary world, read Kierkegaard and went one step further. He invented not just masks (pseudonyms) to write through but gave up authorship to his ‘heteronyms’, partial personalities who existed with some autonomy and distance from Pessoa himself and had very different views and experiences of life.Bernando Soares, the eponymous author of The Book of Disquiet, a book-keeper in Lisbon, records his observations of everyday life as if we were walking through an art gallery. He takes a simple gesture, a familiar place and transforms it magically into something more.It is not a book of desolation (as one reviewer would have it). It is full of delight, mystery and wonder.Thoroughly recommended.Repetitive and depressing. I couldn’t get on with this as humourous at all – there’s only one joke and that isn’t very funny.

⭐

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