I dissent.

Look, I think Krasznahorkai is one of the most interesting writers working today (that I know of). I wish more of his books had been translated; I think 'Melancholy' is one of the greatest novels of the last century, and I wish all the people writing in English today would read his books and try to get closer to his baroque style than they are to the dishwater-dull post-minimalism that everyone seems determined to practice. Now, all that said, this is the worst of his books to have been translated so far (leaving aside Animalinside), and it isn't even close.

The wonderful style of the earlier novels was already leaning toward mannerism in 'War & War,' and here it tips over completely. Perhaps it's just the translator (I'm not qualified to judge) but these 'long sentences' aren't long sentences, they're run-on sentences. They're not the product of complex syntactical maneuvers, they are the product of simple addition *and* that process of addition never seems to stop *and* there is no reason for the sentences to be strung together like this *and* they could easily have been divided up (etc...)

The bleakness of the earlier novels is supposed to be alleviated a bit here, which might be good? Or not? I guess it's a question of taste. But regardless of your opinion there, I find it hard to believe that people really find this 'life is made worthwhile by the approach to beauty' stuff convincing--not because that idea is inherently unconvincing (though, well...), but because it isn't convincing *in this book.* A large part of this failure is probably due to the unnecessary length of the thing.

You, devotee, are going to say there's some master plan here involving fibonacci sequences, or, as the front flap suggests, Seiobo overseeing human attempts to reach beauty and so on. If there is, I demand that you explain it to me! I'm not so thick that I can't get it if someone tells me what I'm meant to be getting. Is it all the variations on a theme? This is not the Diabellis; this is a minimalist hammering one tone 233 times, then shifting one semi-tone and hammering that one 377 times. There is variation, yes. But variation to what end? It isn't clear.

The worst thing about the book, though, is that too many of the pieces could be replaced by a good color plate of the art-work with which they start, and we would lose very little.

Perhaps if you read one story a week for a few months, this would be less of an issue, and I encourage potential readers to do so, because there are rewards here. The first piece, in particular, is wonderful--and avoids the dull cliches about reticent Japanese artists, or money-grubbing Renaissance European artists that fill the rest of the book. Also well worth it: 'The Exiled Queen,' which actually develops, rather than over-doing one point; 'Distant Mandate,' in which the long sentence serves some function; 'Private Passion,' a funny rant about music, an actual variation in a very visual-art-heavy collection; 'Ise Shrine'; and 'Screaming Beneath the Earth.' ( )

From reading interviews with the translator Ottilie Mulzet, I've learned Hungarian is an agglutinative & left-branching language, which means, (VERY) roughly, that the sentences often literally move toward their meaning. The linguistic head is final-- everything preceding the head directly compliments it, & the meaning of the morphemes the compound words are made of are set. Not inflective, I'm saying. So instead of, “Adam is typing some shit he barely understands,” you would get something like, “barely-understanding Adam typing shit.” I think.

Krasznahorkai’s sentences, at least here with us in English, are sometimes dozens of pages long. Thousands of subordinate clauses complimenting & modifying each other. But the alleged, uh, locatability of exactitude of meaning in Hungrian is hidden in the long, winding drift. The specific system of Krasznahorkai’s modification makes it literally impossible to pinpoint where the subject or point of view in a sentence changes. Which it absolutely does do. One person will be speaking in a sentence, then later along in the sentence, another person will be speaking - sometimes on a wholly new topic! - but, even carefully backtracking, I cannot find a specific point of change. This is what I mean by drift. So the reader has to constantly pay absolute attention to the writing. But, this is the point. Attention to the present.

here's a small part of a description of a Noh dance, from the 8th chapter (?), titled THE LIFE & WORK OF MASTER INOUE KAZUYUKI:

if he does the necessary dance-steps according to the prescribed order, then he doesn’t think about whether or not the spirit is operating within him, because this spirit is perfectly ingrained in the order of steps he has just completed, he does not gape into the future thinking: after this, what step do I need to take, after this, what step comes next; it is a question of only one step that exactly fills the present moment, it is always this that he must concentrate on, says the sensei, on what I can do exactly in this moment, indeed, to put it more precisely, on what I am doing in this moment, this is altogether what concentration is for, not for anything else, not for the desire that this step here will be better, but that exactly in this moment, exactly this step in the dance is coming into being;

(copied from http://www.rulit.me/books/seiobo-there-below-read-343430-59.html, if you want to read more)

The body of SEIOBO THERE BELOW consist of 17 chapters or pieces, all pertaining to an artist or an act of creation, & to Seiobo, a Taoist deity of (I think) something like bliss. But I would argue that the translation itself, by Ottilie Mulzet, is an 18th. Through her skill (which must be incredible, Krasznahorkai himself speaks some real good English; here's a wonderful & INCREDIBLY funny example.) SEIOBO THERE BELOW's subject & structure (macro & micro; fractaling) are wedded in such a way that the book becomes proof of its own concept. ( )

Sarebbe ora che qualcuno prendesse Krasznahorkai sul serio. Traducetelo dall'inglese se l'ungherese non vi aggrada. O aspettate che vinca il Nobel?
Keller e Mueller non vi hanno insegnato nulla?
°@*°§**çç°####!!! ( )

This is the first book by Krasznahorkai I read. How did I come to it? By discovering (only now! – better late than never!) that K. wrote Satantango from which Béla Tarr created an unforgettable film, then reading a review of this, his latest book translated into English; I was certainly curious. I have to confess though, that I really do not know what to make of this assembly of stories that have in common a dialog or dialogues, mental and sometimes physical encounters, with works of art. His famous long sentences draw me in, capture me and don’t let go. Certainly. But … there is a ‘but’ which I can’t quite name. Re-reading it (when?) let me say perhaps more. (III-16)

I haven't finished this book. Firstly, the non existence of full stops bothered me. Secondly, the author is just showing off his extensive research. No doubt that it's well written but it's wordy and goes nowhere. The individual chapters have no relationship to each other and after reading about a quarter of the book now I give up. ( )