It takes a unique writer to make a story that reads like a angry thought and ends up taking the reader on a tilt-a-whirl of happenings at the same time.
Partly autobiographical and partly fiction; The ramblings of a hyper-conscious pessimist. To call Ferdinand a pessimist is to not take away from his character at all. To see through his polished spyglass of a mind and to soak up the misfortunes that followed him (or maybe that he choose to follow) was just his Quixotic quest in life. Maybe Quixotic isn’t the right way to describe his quest in life, if anything, the realism of his disposition was constantly warring with his improbable reluctance to conform to an identity that he could easily grasp…Or maybe I misinterpreted the whole point of his book and I can now assume that the loud clawing noise on my door is the ghost of Céline, violently cursing me in French under his breath, and soon to be asking for the closest Brothel.
It seemed like he wanted nothing more then to figure out how brave he could become. He found meaning in the absurdity of life and I doubt he would have ever found contentment with material riches. He just wanted to find enough resources to dull the constant throbbing of his consciousness.
Sex, sex, sex. He could shut himself off for that pursuit. and his prowess at creatively constructing phrases to describe that pursuit, betrayed his constant thought about it.
“There’s no tyrant like a brain.” A poignant quote from a man who experienced a great deal and was all too aware of the consequences of being alive. Being thoughtful was a burden and being poor was a surefire way of mucking up the sad reality of life.
His anger and comedic habits of poking fun at the most serious things in life are kind of comforting to me. Irreverent yes, but don’t we all take life a little too seriously at times; and for those who feel that life is devoid of meaning, you might as well entertain yourself to stay sane.
Bibliotropism 