Woodcutters

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Por otra parte, tiene que reconocer que no todo fue despreciable la época de la que ahora reniega con tanta vehemencia; es gracias a aquellos años, en especial a Joanna, que el narrador se dedicó a la literatura y llegó a ser lo que, para bien o para mal, es ahora. Peter replied, “Well, it’s really simple. Every time I stopped work, while you were still chopping down trees, I was sharpening my axe.” In his Western Canon of 1994, American literary critic Harold Bloom lists Woodcutters as Bernhard’s masterpiece. What do you know? He had to think about it too. If you don't draw them into shapes you have no idea what they mean, I think. Why? I don't know. Maybe that's a lot my own words and thought expended upon something neither particularly insightful nor applicable to Bernhard, here or in whole. And it's a bleak presentation—for if we're in the kind of echo chamber where a corroded mind turns itself against the world, diminishes the latter to the point of execration and simultaneously is leeched of its will by that degraded world it so perceives, where lies the road to salvation? With Bernhard, often in suicide, or early death from the inevitable breakdowns deriving from such severe physical and mental impairment. And if bodily extinction manages to be avoided, it's to pursue the course of isolation: removing oneself from the pathogens of the modern world and its ravenous populace—either by hiding oneself away (preferably in, say, a garret) to pass the days in reading great works, pacing the floor, and burnishing that (one) perfect idea that resides within the mind and should/will/must never be brought out of that idealized womb; or else absconding into the heart of quiet, forested, being-empty nature, where in tranquil silence and arboreal envelopment one can find the harmony so alien to life as experienced within the bustle and schemes, inevitable despairs and spiritual envelopment of mastering civilization.

High hopes of youth… But the artists grew older and their hopes got fewer… Some of them were left behind, some were over the edge, some drowned their talents in alcohol, some compromised, some became opportunistic and some sold themselves out… Thomas Bernhard, the great pessimist-rhapsodist of German literature . . . never compromises, never makes peace with life. . . . Only in the pure, fierce isolation of his art can he get justice."—Michael Feingold, Village Voice Es ist gut, dass ich Holzfällen erst jetzt gelesen habe, so konnte ich mich auf den inneren Gehalt konzentrieren und diesen entsprechend würdigen: von dem Dutzend Bernhards, die ich bis jetzt gelesen habe, hat dieser einen Grad von Perfektion erreicht, der schon fast unheimlich ist. Wer keinen Bernhard lesen will, sollte Holzfällen lesen.Meanwhile, after a couple of hours, the celebrated actor appears and promptly monopolises the conversation which is entirely about himself. While the unnamed writer sits in his wing chair thinking how utterly detestable the celebrity is, he becomes aware that the actor is perhaps putting on a show for the diners, and that just maybe he isn’t all that bad. And as the narrator continues observing and pondering, he realises that he himself has been ‘guilty’ of the same ‘offences’ that he observes. In fact these people are a mirror image of his own behaviour.

In the spacious, well-appointed, open-plan living area, you will discover a fully-equipped kitchen, complete with all the appliances required to rustle up a tasty, home-cooked dinner. Woodcutter's Bar and Grill is one of the higher end restaurants at Alton Towers and is located in Fountain Square next to It is sensible to be cautious about meals involving bread: for some reason Woodcutter's bread is consistently dry and slightly stale, and it has been that way for years!And as the observer in his wing chair thinks with great disgust of all the despicable things that he associates with the various dinner guests, and how he hates, detests and despises this, that and the other (the narrator uses a large number of derogatory words!), it gradually occurs to him that his own behaviour may have been despicable too.

Introducing Wood Boxes! The Ore Box’s more sustainable cousin! Use your fletching skill to create these new boxes to store all the wood you will be chopping. How low they’ve sunk, I thought as I sat in the wing chair – these people who as far as I can see have been artistically, intellectually and spiritually bankrupt for decades… At one time, of course, all these people had actually been artists, or at least possessed artistic talents, I thought, sitting in the wing chair, but now they were just so much artistic riffraff, having about as much to do with art and the artistic as this dinner party of the Auersbergers’. All these people, who were once real artists, or at least in some way artistic, I thought as I sat in the wing chair, are now nothing but shams, husks of their former selves… A fin de cuentas, ¿quién si no Bernhard podría crear un personaje que se pasa toda la novela callado y sentado en un sillón de orejas, escribir una novela con todos los pensamientos odiosos que se le ocurrieron sentado en ese sillón de orejas, y apostillar, en la mitad de cada uno de esos pensamientos, “pensé, mientras estaba sentado en el sillón de orejas”? Alongside adding in the new Imcando Hatchet, the requirements for hatchets have been re-tiered (no more needing odd levels like 41) and some of the previous tiers have been rebalanced to better reflect this new tier scale. I think the English title is usually Cutting Timber or Woodcutters, while the original is Hultsfellen. The latter means trees that topple over on their own, from old age or rot, or some other natural reason. And I think it's past tense? So the original title might be interpreted to mean that the old giants, the old authorities, have fallen, maybe from rot, or from growing too big and heavy. This makes sense when you think about the main character's never ending criticism of art snobbery. The entire book can be read as a furious critique of Vienna's high culture.The cruel thing is when you need people and when you don't need them and you spit them out. There's a loss and a doubt in their place. Sin embargo, a juzgar por la sinopsis y tras leer las primeras páginas, el contenido de Woodcutters parece blanco y en botella: pura mala leche. Bernhard no debía tener un alto concepto de la escena artística de su país —ni estar de muy buen humor— durante los ochenta. En la primera mitad de esa década, además de ajustar cuentas con sus colegas escritores en Woodcutters, le dio lo suyo al mundo de la música en The Loser (1983) y al de la pintura en Old Masters (1985). Por suerte para sus lectores, de lo que estaba sin duda sobrado era de calidad literaria, porque las tres novelas son a cuál mejor.