En İyi Roman Girişleri

[xunn]

böyle bir topic olsun. Roman, şiir farketmez. Sevdigimiz giriş cümlelerini koyalım.

"Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressing-gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
- Introibo ad altare Dei."

"The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new."

"I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath, and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the
sleepers in that quiet earth."

"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

"It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me."

"For a long time, I went to bed early. Sometimes, my candle scarcely out, my eyes would close so quickly that I did not have time to say to myself: "I'm falling asleep." cCc Marcel reis cCc

"Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York."

"Aujourd'hui, maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas."

"She sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue."

Dat consonance, dat assonance. Aklıma geldikçe updatelerim, görürsem koyarım falan. Siz de koyun.

[Horcrux]

Okudugu tüm kitaplar bu kadarmis.

[xunn]

0/10.

[aquila]

ondan sonra hipsterlar oyle, hipsterlar boyle diye atip tut.

[xunn]

Kirletmeyelim, hipster olsak CATCHER IN THE RYE alıntısı yapardım.



Keşke fake accountla açsaymışım topiği.

[Laorx]

Nasreddin Hoca abdest alırken, bir ayağına su yetmemiş.Namaz kılarken de bir ayağını yukarı kaldırarak namaz kılmış.Bunu gören cami cemaati :
-Hocam bu nasıl namaz? diye sormuş.

said:

Hoca could renew your faith in the ability of novelists to invest even the most outrageous scenario with plausible life. - The New yorker

said:

Nasreddin Hoja is a real adventur; brutal, tender, expressive, dramatix, and disarmingly funny.... It's diffucult to stop reading. - San Francisco Chronicle

said:

The rivetting national bestseller - NY Times

[yav]

bi tek yabancı'yı tanıdım
1/9 da bana o zaman sdf
uzunları okumadım gerçi de
2 numara nerden onu merak ettim

fransızca kamü'ye yetmiş ama prost'da durmuş heralde ingilizce yazmışız. ehe.

[senko]

ingilizce kitap okuyorum, kizlara selam ederim mesaji da verilmis alttan.

[dasaaa]

ılgaz anadolunun sen yüce bir dağısın
beril sen dev bir kedisin

[Lyvanna_Dolores]

"There once was a boy who liked to suck his thumbs."

[moncici]

2 numara murphy. samuel beckett

[yav]

merci bcp öyleyse

[senko]

Pek rengine aldanma felek eski felektir
Zira feleğin meşreb-i nasazı dönektir

Ya bister-i kemhada ya viranede can ver
Çün bay u geda hake beraber girecektir

...

efsane baslayip efsane gidiyor zaten.

[moncici]

i am a sick man...

[dasaaa]

en yaratıcısı şuymuş
I am an invisible man. - Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (1952)

[xunn]

Şu da hoşuma gidiyor, "Call me Ishmael."

senko said:

ingilizce kitap okuyorum, kizlara selam ederim mesaji da verilmis alttan.

İngilizce okumanın primi yok, yıl 2011 devir Data devri.

Türkçe okumuyorum ben 4-5 yıldır, dilciydim sonucta.

Özellikle türçeye cevrildiklerinde bir dünya kelime oyunu, prose katli oluyor, zerre zevk almıyorum okudugum romandan.

Ha roman değilse kasmanın hiçbir manası yok orası ayrı.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort."

FUCK YEAH.

[burtonesk]

gregor samsa, bir sabah sıkıntılı rüyalar gördüğü uykusundan uyandığında, kendini dev bir böceğe dönüşmüş buldu.
kafka-dönüşüm
bence daha iyisi yok. ne anna karenina ne yabancı.

[senko]

Don't worry if you don't understand this book completely on the first reading. We didn't understand it all on the first writing!

[moncici]

hahahah bu hangisiydi ya hatırlıyorum biyerden ama. roman değildi ama sanki.

[Fin]

Lyvanna_Dolores said:

"There once was a boy who liked to suck his thumbs."

?

[aquila]

hibi kitabi da okurken vaay bunun girisi en iyiymis demedim lan, ya da her zaman ki gibi hatirlamiyorum.


bu haric,


In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light...

[xunn]

yav said:

bi tek yabancı'yı tanıdım
1/9 da bana o zaman sdf
uzunları okumadım gerçi de
2 numara nerden onu merak ettim

fransızca kamü'ye yetmiş ama prost'da durmuş heralde ingilizce yazmışız. ehe.

Ya bunu yeni okudum Fransızcamı geç İngilizcem bile rahat okumaya yetmiyor, tekrar tekrar okuyorum bazen. Sevdiğim terlerin fransızcalarını deşifre etmeye vaktim olmadı.

Proust döver Camus'yu, boşver. =P

"Many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray, save what was comprised in the theatre and the drama of my going to bed there, had any existence for me, when one day in winter, on my return home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent for one of those squat, plump little cakes called "petites madeleines," which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted valve of a scallop shell. And soon, mechanically, dispirited after a dreary day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake.

"No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory - this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I sensed that it was connected with the taste of the tea and the cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could, no, indeed, be of the same nature. Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it?...

"... Suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom , my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it; perhaps because I had so often seen such things in the meantime, without tasting them, on the trays in pastry-cooks' windows, that their image had dissociated itself from those Combray days to take its place among others more recent; perhaps because of those memories, so long abandoned and put out of mind, nothing now survived, everything was scattered; the shapes of things, including that of the little scallop-shell of pastry, so richly sensual under its severe, religious folds, were either obliterated or had been so long dormant as to have lost the power of expansion which would have allowed them to resume their place in my consciousness.

"But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.

"And as soon as I had recognized the taste of the piece of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-blossom which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy) immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like a stage set to attach itself to the little pavilion opening on to the garden which had been built out behind it for my parents (the isolated segment which until that moment had been all that I could see); and with the house the town, from morning to night and in all weathers, the Square where I used to be sent before lunch, the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine.

"And as in the game wherein the Japanese amuse themselves by filling a porcelain bowl with water and steeping in it little pieces of paper which until then are without character or form, but, the moment they become wet, stretch and twist and take on colour and distinctive shape, become flowers or houses or people, solid and recognizable, so in that moment all the flowers in our garden and in M. Swann's park, and the water-lilies on the Vivonne and the good folk of the village and their little dwellings and the parish church and the whole of Combray and its surroundings, taking shape and solidity, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea."

aquila said:

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light...

"The story so far: In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move."

geldi aklıma, çok gülmüştüm.

[xunn]

burtonesk said:

gregor samsa, bir sabah sıkıntılı rüyalar gördüğü uykusundan uyandığında, kendini dev bir böceğe dönüşmüş buldu.
kafka-dönüşüm
bence daha iyisi yok. ne anna karenina ne yabancı.

"As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect"

diye gidiyor olması lazım ve garip bir şekilde yazımı bende sıfır uyarıya sebep oluyor. Yani cümle sonuna dogru bombayı patlatırım iyi aslında. ritmik düşüklükleri sevmiyorum sanırım, zevk meselesi. Dans etmiyor böyle nasıl anlatsam bilemedim. Tamamen çeviriden de olabilir. Yazım şeklinde aşırı düz birşey var neyse üstüne giderim sonra, ben işe gidiyorum ühü.

[senko]

moncici said:

hahahah bu hangisiydi ya hatırlıyorum biyerden ama. roman değildi ama sanki.

[Laorx]

singleton'ı anlat bana senko adsf