What do you think?
Rate this book
Byobu
Byobu's every interaction trembles with possibility and faint menace. A crack in the walls of his house, marring it forever, means he must burn it down. A stoplight asks what the value of obedience is, what hopefulness it contains, and what insensible anarchy it defies. In brief episodes, aphorisms, and moments of spiritual turbulence and gentle scrutiny, reside a wealth of habits, worries, curiosities, pleasures, peculiarities, and efforts to understand.
Representative of the modesty and complexity of Ida Vitale's poetic universe, Byobu flushes the world with meaning and playfully offers another way of inhabiting the every day.
Representative of the modesty and complexity of Ida Vitale's poetic universe, Byobu flushes the world with meaning and playfully offers another way of inhabiting the every day.
110 pages, Paperback
Published November 30, 2021
About the author
Ida Vitale
56 books59 followersIda Vitale (Montevideo, 2 de noviembre de 1923) es una poeta, traductora, ensayista, profesora y crítica literaria uruguaya. Entre los premios que ha recibido destacan en 2015 el Premio Reina Sofía de Poesía Iberoamericana, en 2016 el Premio Internacional de Poesía Federico García Lorca y en 2018 el Premio Cervantes.
Considerada integrante de la Generación del 45 con otros escritores uruguayos como Mario Benedetti, Juan Carlos Onetti, Carlos Maggi o Idea Vilariño, es también madre del economista Claudio Rama Vitale, y cuarta generación de emigrantes italianos en Uruguay, donde se formó en una familia culta y cosmopolita. Lectora preferente de obras históricas, su descubrimiento de dos poetas uruguayas de entresiglos, Delmira Agustini y, en especial, un espíritu afín, María Eugenia Vaz Ferreira, la inclinó a la poesía lírica, aunque sus dos grandes referentes fueron José Bergamín, su profesor en Montevideo, y Juan Ramón Jiménez, a quien también conoció en persona.
Estudió Humanidades en Uruguay y ejerció la profesión docente. En 1950 se casó con el ensayista Ángel Rama y tuvo dos hijos, Amparo y el economista Claudio, nacidos en 1951 y 1954 respectivamente. Se separó de su primer marido y colaboró en el semanario Marcha; entre 1962 y 1964 dirigió la página literaria del diario uruguayo Época. Fue codirectora de la revista Clinamen e integró la dirección de la revista Maldoror.
Empujada por la dictadura, se exilió a México en 1974 y, tras conocer a Octavio Paz, este la introdujo en el comité asesor de la revista Vuelta. Además participó en la fundación del periódico Uno Más Uno y continuó dedicada a la enseñanza, impartiendo además un seminario en El Colegio de México. Amplió su obra cultivando el ensayo y la crítica literaria (que ejerció en El País, Marcha, Época, Jaque y, entre otras, en las revistas Clinamen, Asir, Maldoror, Crisis de Buenos Aires, Eco de Bogotá; Vuelta y Unomásuno, de México; El pez y la serpiente de Nicaragua...) Tradujo libros para el Fondo de Cultura Económica; impartió conferencias y lecturas, participó en jurados y colaboró en numerosos diarios.
Volvió a Uruguay en 1984, y dirigió la página cultural del semanario Jaque. Desde 1989 vive en Austin (Texas) junto a su segundo marido, el también poeta Enrique Fierro, aunque viaja muy frecuentemente a Montevideo. Fue nombrada doctora honoris causa por la Universidad de la República en 2010. Lee y traduce particularmente del francés y del italiano, y entre los autores de sus versiones se cuenta a Simone de Beauvoir, Benjamin Péret, Gaston Bachelard, Jacques Lafaye, Jean Lacouture y Luigi Pirandello.
Su poesía indaga en la alquimia del lenguaje y establece un encuentro entre una exacerbada percepción sensorial de raíz simbolista y la cristalización conceptual en su perfil más preciso.
Desde 1990 al presente es residente estadounidense.
Considerada integrante de la Generación del 45 con otros escritores uruguayos como Mario Benedetti, Juan Carlos Onetti, Carlos Maggi o Idea Vilariño, es también madre del economista Claudio Rama Vitale, y cuarta generación de emigrantes italianos en Uruguay, donde se formó en una familia culta y cosmopolita. Lectora preferente de obras históricas, su descubrimiento de dos poetas uruguayas de entresiglos, Delmira Agustini y, en especial, un espíritu afín, María Eugenia Vaz Ferreira, la inclinó a la poesía lírica, aunque sus dos grandes referentes fueron José Bergamín, su profesor en Montevideo, y Juan Ramón Jiménez, a quien también conoció en persona.
Estudió Humanidades en Uruguay y ejerció la profesión docente. En 1950 se casó con el ensayista Ángel Rama y tuvo dos hijos, Amparo y el economista Claudio, nacidos en 1951 y 1954 respectivamente. Se separó de su primer marido y colaboró en el semanario Marcha; entre 1962 y 1964 dirigió la página literaria del diario uruguayo Época. Fue codirectora de la revista Clinamen e integró la dirección de la revista Maldoror.
Empujada por la dictadura, se exilió a México en 1974 y, tras conocer a Octavio Paz, este la introdujo en el comité asesor de la revista Vuelta. Además participó en la fundación del periódico Uno Más Uno y continuó dedicada a la enseñanza, impartiendo además un seminario en El Colegio de México. Amplió su obra cultivando el ensayo y la crítica literaria (que ejerció en El País, Marcha, Época, Jaque y, entre otras, en las revistas Clinamen, Asir, Maldoror, Crisis de Buenos Aires, Eco de Bogotá; Vuelta y Unomásuno, de México; El pez y la serpiente de Nicaragua...) Tradujo libros para el Fondo de Cultura Económica; impartió conferencias y lecturas, participó en jurados y colaboró en numerosos diarios.
Volvió a Uruguay en 1984, y dirigió la página cultural del semanario Jaque. Desde 1989 vive en Austin (Texas) junto a su segundo marido, el también poeta Enrique Fierro, aunque viaja muy frecuentemente a Montevideo. Fue nombrada doctora honoris causa por la Universidad de la República en 2010. Lee y traduce particularmente del francés y del italiano, y entre los autores de sus versiones se cuenta a Simone de Beauvoir, Benjamin Péret, Gaston Bachelard, Jacques Lafaye, Jean Lacouture y Luigi Pirandello.
Su poesía indaga en la alquimia del lenguaje y establece un encuentro entre una exacerbada percepción sensorial de raíz simbolista y la cristalización conceptual en su perfil más preciso.
Desde 1990 al presente es residente estadounidense.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 56 reviews
September 5, 2023
‘No loss is more irreparable than that of mystery, which has vanished for the benefit of no one.’
We are often advised to slow down and appreciate the small details in life because what seems prosaic when we rush through our day to day suddenly becomes poetic upon calm reflection. This is at the heart of Uruguayan writer Ida Vitale’s experimental—and often obfuscating—Byobu, which follows a man who has a ‘knack for stopping to look at minuscule things lacking in importance,’ and examines the notion that ‘everything important lies below the surface.’ A poet first and foremost, Vitale proceeds using language like a shovel to dig with abstractions in order to unearth the heart of an idea instead of navigating us along a plotline towards it as if it were a city’s center. The whole book (less than 100pgs told in brief vignettes) comes at us as if ‘inside a nebulous veil.’ This creates a very quiet and contemplative work, though also one without much to grasp hold of. Her ideas appear like fingerprints on a glass window, floating aimless in space, that we can see when we look closely but almost completely transparent from afar. But those fingerprints of language are truly something to behold and Vitale weaves such expressive phrases and striking imagery. While never learning much about our character, who bears the name of the title Byobu, his ‘ meticulous consciousness’ becomes a vessel to examine how one lives in the world, the juxtaposition of what truly matters versus what society values, and even the idea of narrative in the face of the books near absence of narrative.
‘Poetry seeks to extract from its abyss certain words that might constitute the scar tissue we are all unconsciously chasing.’
While this is a rather aimless book without much to really feel beyond completion, I am still in awe at Vitale’s use of language as well as the excellent—and likely difficult and intricate—translation work by Sean Manning. We have images of jasmines as ‘a vertical Milky Way, delirious with aroma,’ or reflections of singular words that form an entire landscape in the mind. It is often dense and something that, in keeping with the message of the book, forces you to slow down and contemplate fully. Though it all comes at you in short chapters that sometimes aren’t even the length of a page. One of the more beautiful ones—at least I felt—is Unforgivable Distraction which reads in its entirety as such:
I love this careful expression of the emotions and actions of language. Simple images come alive into something much larger, such as how the image of a single traffic light sends us tumbling down a rabbit hole of thought on it as a ‘mechanism of supervision and compliance with an ergonomic intention’ (a major theme of the book is the idea of compliance with society or being defiant and disrupting that flow). But the language just comes alive and, as Vitale describes being out in nature, ‘it’s a delight for the flesh and the imagination.’
The imagination seems to be what Vitale argues for in Byobu. The mystery and magic of the world is what counteracts the mundane, and she shows how the former can be found when we quiet our minds and appreciate the minutia and abstractions in life. The circuitous thought process is favored over the direct, which we see in the novel in the expressions that ‘the world loves conversations in straight lines and single-minded strides. Intersections divert. Labyrinths confound.’ Byobu values useless facts and deep but unprofitable thinking, which he sees as something vital to retain in a world of straight lines and valuing knowledge on ‘advancing in society’ instead of advancing in spiritual, emotional or intellectual growth. We see the grandiousity of language as a direct rebuttal to the tempered and shallowness of ordinary society Vitale describes as ‘the insight that marionettes have most likely gained, by virtue of delegating the heavy burden of their movement to other hands,’ that allows them to be cogs in neoliberal advancement.
While we don’t know much about the character of Byobu, I did find him rather empathetic and enjoyed his ‘habitual indecisiveness’ and felt very much attacked by him described as ‘Truly melancholic due to lack of rest, his dark moods moods intensified, cyclically obstructing even the most accidental access to sleep.’ But most importantly I enjoyed the way he looks at the world:
That said, there is just not much to cling to and while I appreciate the lack of narrative as an expression on narrative, its almost too formless to make much of it with. I do, however, love her commentary on this aspect, such as in the beginning her discussion that ‘a story’s existence, even if not well defined or well assigned, even if only in its formative stage, just barely latent, emits vague but urgent emanations.’ She asserts that ‘Openness too can dissolve in the outrage of extroverting every boundary,’ and much of the poetic quality of this book is in subverting boundaries and trying to examine living in the world through an abstract way.
‘The author assumes that whoever follows him through the twists of his invention is sure of their own ideas and will turn to them to give their ending to the story.’
Overall, Byobu is a gorgeously written book with a lot of interesting ideas, but is almost too formless for it’s own good and doesn’t have much forward moving power to keep you wanting to read. Still, it is quite lovely and I enjoy many of the ideas within and hope that soon I can read translations of Vitale’s poetry.
3.5/5
‘Where are we running to, those of us who are so still?’
We are often advised to slow down and appreciate the small details in life because what seems prosaic when we rush through our day to day suddenly becomes poetic upon calm reflection. This is at the heart of Uruguayan writer Ida Vitale’s experimental—and often obfuscating—Byobu, which follows a man who has a ‘knack for stopping to look at minuscule things lacking in importance,’ and examines the notion that ‘everything important lies below the surface.’ A poet first and foremost, Vitale proceeds using language like a shovel to dig with abstractions in order to unearth the heart of an idea instead of navigating us along a plotline towards it as if it were a city’s center. The whole book (less than 100pgs told in brief vignettes) comes at us as if ‘inside a nebulous veil.’ This creates a very quiet and contemplative work, though also one without much to grasp hold of. Her ideas appear like fingerprints on a glass window, floating aimless in space, that we can see when we look closely but almost completely transparent from afar. But those fingerprints of language are truly something to behold and Vitale weaves such expressive phrases and striking imagery. While never learning much about our character, who bears the name of the title Byobu, his ‘ meticulous consciousness’ becomes a vessel to examine how one lives in the world, the juxtaposition of what truly matters versus what society values, and even the idea of narrative in the face of the books near absence of narrative.
‘Poetry seeks to extract from its abyss certain words that might constitute the scar tissue we are all unconsciously chasing.’
While this is a rather aimless book without much to really feel beyond completion, I am still in awe at Vitale’s use of language as well as the excellent—and likely difficult and intricate—translation work by Sean Manning. We have images of jasmines as ‘a vertical Milky Way, delirious with aroma,’ or reflections of singular words that form an entire landscape in the mind. It is often dense and something that, in keeping with the message of the book, forces you to slow down and contemplate fully. Though it all comes at you in short chapters that sometimes aren’t even the length of a page. One of the more beautiful ones—at least I felt—is Unforgivable Distraction which reads in its entirety as such:
‘A threadlike obsession begs for a fissure through which to recall, from within a free soul, a lost moment of a past that is constantly less stable, more emaciated and evanescent. Sentences arrive not quite crystallized, as if coming from somebody talking on a beach alone, convinced no one else can hear them, that no one can collect them to confirm or deny them. Sentences that are immediately buried by the sand of that careless loss. Byobu thinks: there is no despair quite like the shadow that collapses down upon our most guarded memories, akin to a wall without ivy, the ivy piling up at its base, with no sense of purpose or beauty, a green tomb, a dark mass grave.’
I love this careful expression of the emotions and actions of language. Simple images come alive into something much larger, such as how the image of a single traffic light sends us tumbling down a rabbit hole of thought on it as a ‘mechanism of supervision and compliance with an ergonomic intention’ (a major theme of the book is the idea of compliance with society or being defiant and disrupting that flow). But the language just comes alive and, as Vitale describes being out in nature, ‘it’s a delight for the flesh and the imagination.’
The imagination seems to be what Vitale argues for in Byobu. The mystery and magic of the world is what counteracts the mundane, and she shows how the former can be found when we quiet our minds and appreciate the minutia and abstractions in life. The circuitous thought process is favored over the direct, which we see in the novel in the expressions that ‘the world loves conversations in straight lines and single-minded strides. Intersections divert. Labyrinths confound.’ Byobu values useless facts and deep but unprofitable thinking, which he sees as something vital to retain in a world of straight lines and valuing knowledge on ‘advancing in society’ instead of advancing in spiritual, emotional or intellectual growth. We see the grandiousity of language as a direct rebuttal to the tempered and shallowness of ordinary society Vitale describes as ‘the insight that marionettes have most likely gained, by virtue of delegating the heavy burden of their movement to other hands,’ that allows them to be cogs in neoliberal advancement.
While we don’t know much about the character of Byobu, I did find him rather empathetic and enjoyed his ‘habitual indecisiveness’ and felt very much attacked by him described as ‘Truly melancholic due to lack of rest, his dark moods moods intensified, cyclically obstructing even the most accidental access to sleep.’ But most importantly I enjoyed the way he looks at the world:
‘he always looks at everything with eyes that are also tongue and touch and ears and sex, letting himself be penetrated by the world and lamenting not having a magical memory where everything seen and sensed and everything read in the prodigious coagulations of the alphabet enters for eternity.’
That said, there is just not much to cling to and while I appreciate the lack of narrative as an expression on narrative, its almost too formless to make much of it with. I do, however, love her commentary on this aspect, such as in the beginning her discussion that ‘a story’s existence, even if not well defined or well assigned, even if only in its formative stage, just barely latent, emits vague but urgent emanations.’ She asserts that ‘Openness too can dissolve in the outrage of extroverting every boundary,’ and much of the poetic quality of this book is in subverting boundaries and trying to examine living in the world through an abstract way.
‘The author assumes that whoever follows him through the twists of his invention is sure of their own ideas and will turn to them to give their ending to the story.’
Overall, Byobu is a gorgeously written book with a lot of interesting ideas, but is almost too formless for it’s own good and doesn’t have much forward moving power to keep you wanting to read. Still, it is quite lovely and I enjoy many of the ideas within and hope that soon I can read translations of Vitale’s poetry.
3.5/5
‘Where are we running to, those of us who are so still?’
November 30, 2021
Charco Press is an Edinburgh-based small UK press – they focus on “finding outstanding contemporary Latin American literature and bringing it to new readers in the English-speaking world”.
This is the seventh and final book of their fifth year of publication.
It is the work of the Uruguayan born poet, translator, essayist and literary critic Ida Vitale and – Vitale being one of only five female recipients of Spanish-language literature’s most prestigious prize (for an overall body of work) – the Miguel de Cervantes Prize.
The English language publication is just two years before her 100th birthday.
The book is an absolute delight – extremely distinctive, spread over 80 pages and yet richly dense in language, observation and insight.
The text is basically 34 1-3 page vignettes about the life of the eponymous hero of the book (although the very first of those questions if the story has two protagonists) – a kind of hyper observant everyman fascinated with the minutae of everyday life (particularly nature, taxonomic considerations), devoted to tangential divergence and derisive of decisions.
The language used is often playful – words origins and multiple meanings (etymology and polysemy), sometimes alliteration or deliberately floral language, are (I think) integral to the Spanish text – making the role of the translator Sean Manning impressive (although one has the sense that just like the author the translator is having fun).
Many of the vignettes examine the role of story making – oral and written – adding a circularity to the text that fits Byobu’s approach to navigating the world (an early vignette is titled “Life is not a straight Line”);
Others look at punctuation – one section looks at full stops/ellipses, another (my favourite) brackets/parentheses - and this section I think gives a sense of the whole:
Interview with translator – which includes another of the vignettes
https://www.thecommononline.org/trans...
Overall an excellent novella - and one to revisit periodically to uncover more of its deceptive depth.
This is the seventh and final book of their fifth year of publication.
It is the work of the Uruguayan born poet, translator, essayist and literary critic Ida Vitale and – Vitale being one of only five female recipients of Spanish-language literature’s most prestigious prize (for an overall body of work) – the Miguel de Cervantes Prize.
The English language publication is just two years before her 100th birthday.
The book is an absolute delight – extremely distinctive, spread over 80 pages and yet richly dense in language, observation and insight.
The text is basically 34 1-3 page vignettes about the life of the eponymous hero of the book (although the very first of those questions if the story has two protagonists) – a kind of hyper observant everyman fascinated with the minutae of everyday life (particularly nature, taxonomic considerations), devoted to tangential divergence and derisive of decisions.
The language used is often playful – words origins and multiple meanings (etymology and polysemy), sometimes alliteration or deliberately floral language, are (I think) integral to the Spanish text – making the role of the translator Sean Manning impressive (although one has the sense that just like the author the translator is having fun).
Many of the vignettes examine the role of story making – oral and written – adding a circularity to the text that fits Byobu’s approach to navigating the world (an early vignette is titled “Life is not a straight Line”);
Others look at punctuation – one section looks at full stops/ellipses, another (my favourite) brackets/parentheses - and this section I think gives a sense of the whole:
And on a different note,' said Byobu, who possessed an intractable inclination to complicate topics, multiplying them. He would open parentheses and not always find an opportune time to close them. This unexpected aperture had a propensity for accepting some new thematic offering. Was this a form of charity, not leaving any idea out in the cold, however removed it may be from the topic that was, for everyone else, at hand? The world loves conversations in straight lines and single-minded strides. Intersections divert. Labyrinths confound. Knots are usually despised, since the days of Alexander, when he was yet to be Great. But Byobu doesn't right his rhizomatic prolongations.
He has to be constantly reminded of the words of Pindar: 'in the Argive way / my tale will be told with brevity.' He sympathizes with the Argives, agreeing in essence with this maxim, and he embraces it for the individual units that make up his stories; but when the time comes to unite them, he can't avoid meandering.
Interview with translator – which includes another of the vignettes
https://www.thecommononline.org/trans...
Overall an excellent novella - and one to revisit periodically to uncover more of its deceptive depth.
December 3, 2021
Sometimes highly relatable, often rather inaccessible, but in both cases filled with inventive use of words. Experimental and sometimes bewildering, but certainly interesting.
They’d better not count on him. He is not an abacus.
Ranging from super erudite and giving you the feeling you missed nearly everything to almost Instagram poetry near the end of the book, this is a hard book to rate. Byobu reminds me strongly of Mr Palomar of Italo Calvino, in how an everyman is followed in various brief chapters while he is amazed by the world. The language of Ida Vitale is rich, with a lot of adjectives and comma's. The vignettes don't form a larger narrative and range from very poignant (No loss is more irreparable than that of mystery, which has vanished for the benefit of no one) to more generic insights (Only anxieties are perpetual).
You don't really get to know the eponymous main character, who is more a conduit to write observations than a real driver of the book. In that sense the fact that the author is more wider known as a poet shines clearly through. 2.5 stars rounded up for the fine language.
They’d better not count on him. He is not an abacus.
Ranging from super erudite and giving you the feeling you missed nearly everything to almost Instagram poetry near the end of the book, this is a hard book to rate. Byobu reminds me strongly of Mr Palomar of Italo Calvino, in how an everyman is followed in various brief chapters while he is amazed by the world. The language of Ida Vitale is rich, with a lot of adjectives and comma's. The vignettes don't form a larger narrative and range from very poignant (No loss is more irreparable than that of mystery, which has vanished for the benefit of no one) to more generic insights (Only anxieties are perpetual).
You don't really get to know the eponymous main character, who is more a conduit to write observations than a real driver of the book. In that sense the fact that the author is more wider known as a poet shines clearly through. 2.5 stars rounded up for the fine language.
November 23, 2021
I should create a shelf here on GR called “Not sure where I’ve just been, but I enjoyed the journey”. I have several books that could go on that shelf and Byobu is the latest candidate.
Because this is a strange but delightful book. I can pretty much guarantee that you haven’t read anything like it. But I would also say don’t try to read it if you are a fan of plot or characters in your books. It’s a collection of 34 vignettes that range from a fraction of a page to about 3 pages in length (the whole book is 85 pages and several of those are blank). Each one of them concerns the life of the book’s protagonist, Byobu. Byobu is indecisive, easily distracted and fascinated by the small details of life. The author is a poet and I imagine the job of translating this book into English was either incredible fun or a complete nightmare.
We open with a couple of pages that question whether the story has one or two protagonists and there are other vignettes that look at story telling. Then there are others that look at punctuation or etymology. Many of them are obscure and it’s not immediately obvious what is going on. But then, the book is written by a poet and it’s probably best to approach it as prose poetry where impression is more important than detail.
I’ve said many times before that books that put impression ahead of detail are my favourite kinds of books (you only need to look at my photographs to see that this isn’t just true of my reading tastes). So, whilst I might not have understood everything, all that really means in this case is that I want to read the book again. And then probably again. It’s the kind of book you could re-visit multiple times and always come away with something new.
Because this is a strange but delightful book. I can pretty much guarantee that you haven’t read anything like it. But I would also say don’t try to read it if you are a fan of plot or characters in your books. It’s a collection of 34 vignettes that range from a fraction of a page to about 3 pages in length (the whole book is 85 pages and several of those are blank). Each one of them concerns the life of the book’s protagonist, Byobu. Byobu is indecisive, easily distracted and fascinated by the small details of life. The author is a poet and I imagine the job of translating this book into English was either incredible fun or a complete nightmare.
We open with a couple of pages that question whether the story has one or two protagonists and there are other vignettes that look at story telling. Then there are others that look at punctuation or etymology. Many of them are obscure and it’s not immediately obvious what is going on. But then, the book is written by a poet and it’s probably best to approach it as prose poetry where impression is more important than detail.
I’ve said many times before that books that put impression ahead of detail are my favourite kinds of books (you only need to look at my photographs to see that this isn’t just true of my reading tastes). So, whilst I might not have understood everything, all that really means in this case is that I want to read the book again. And then probably again. It’s the kind of book you could re-visit multiple times and always come away with something new.
November 30, 2021
A threadlike obsession begs for a fissure through which to recall, from within a free soul, a lost moment of a past that is constantly less stable, more emaciated and evanescent. Sentences arrive not quite crystallized, as if coming from somebody talking on a beach alone, convinced no one else can hear them, that no one can collect them to confirm or deny them. Sentences that are immediately buried by the sand of that careless loss. Byobu thinks: there is no despair quite like the shadow that collapses down upon our most guarded memories, akin to a wall without ivy, the ivy piling up at its base, with no sense of purpose or beauty, a green tomb, a dark mass grave.
Ida Vitale is, aged 98, the last surviving member of the my link text group of writers, known for her poetry and prose. Byobu is a 2021 translation by Sean Manning of a 2004 work by Vitale, El abc de Byobu, and the 29th novel from the wonderful Charco Press.
Were I in a more generous and expansive mood, I think I would have loved this fragmentary and delightfully brief novel. But I struggled to make any sense of it. Perhaps one to revisit.
Please instead see the far more positive reviews from
Gumble's Yard https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
and Neil https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Q&A with the translator and extract:
https://www.thecommononline.org/trans...
Ida Vitale is, aged 98, the last surviving member of the my link text group of writers, known for her poetry and prose. Byobu is a 2021 translation by Sean Manning of a 2004 work by Vitale, El abc de Byobu, and the 29th novel from the wonderful Charco Press.
Were I in a more generous and expansive mood, I think I would have loved this fragmentary and delightfully brief novel. But I struggled to make any sense of it. Perhaps one to revisit.
Please instead see the far more positive reviews from
Gumble's Yard https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
and Neil https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Q&A with the translator and extract:
https://www.thecommononline.org/trans...
March 14, 2022
“Poetry seeks to extract from its abyss certain words that might constitute the scar tissue we are all unconsciously chasing.”
July 18, 2021
poetry seeks to extract from its abyss certain words that might constitute the scar tissue we are all unconsciously chasing.uruguayan poet and writer ida vitale, at 97 years old, is the last living member of the generation '45 (which included juan carlos onetti and mario benedetti). in 2019, the bbc included her on a list of the most influential women in the world (along with greta thunberg, megan rapinoe, and alexandria ocasio-cortez). with over 20 books of poetry and more than dozen prose works to her name, only a scant pair of have been rendered into english — despite an award-winning career (cervantes, garcía lorca, alfonso reyes, and octavio paz prizes) spanning more than a half-century.
in byobu (el abc de byobu), vitale offers nearly three dozen loosely connected stories/tales/impressions/observations about her titular character and his reflective, melancholy encounters with the world around him. byobu is a curious (if largely passive) spectator of life, contended to standby and take in whatever crosses his path (imagined by this reader as an older gentleman leisurely strolling paths and avenues with hands clasped behind his back). vitale's prose is drop dead gorgeous and byobu an enchanting mix of the wise, the ruminative, and the poetic.
and there's another problem that not only he considers, but also, he supposes, the well-mannered few who still dare to think with their heads, ignoring the indifferent river that washes away the miseries propagated and imposed by a single power, now manifest and indisputable: does injustice, with its awful lack of solidarity, exist so that those who witness it can draw strength from the spiritual poverty that causes it, searching inside themselves from some inner virtue, as small as it may be, to step beyond the range of the darts of that unavoidable human trait?*translated from the spanish by sean manning
November 21, 2021
I've no idea how to classify or rate this book. It's not a novel, as there is no story, or plot, or setting, or characters to speak of. "Byobu" is more of a personal pronoun standing in for a protagonist. The book is like a series of loosely interconnected prose poems arranged in a vaguely episodic fashion. But nothing really happens... it's all just internal musings about the minutiae of everyday life.
It made for an often frustrating read, but there were moments of beauty too. The author's background as a poet definitely shines through at times, and there are some impressive passages. Just not enough of them to redeem the rest of the book.
An interesting if forgettable writing experiment.
It made for an often frustrating read, but there were moments of beauty too. The author's background as a poet definitely shines through at times, and there are some impressive passages. Just not enough of them to redeem the rest of the book.
An interesting if forgettable writing experiment.
January 8, 2023
The book is 35ish stories about our extremely observant, almost paranoid, main character Byobu. Some incredible, playful use of language throughout. At times lots of fun, at others just so so confusing.
I loved the inventive use of words but finished this book a little unsure of what I'd read. I definitely had a good time though!
I loved the inventive use of words but finished this book a little unsure of what I'd read. I definitely had a good time though!
March 31, 2023
Poetry seeks to extract from its abyss certain words that might constitute the scar tissue we are all unconsciously chasing.
•
Words are a way of organizing our inner turmoil, of being better than alone, silent. Sometimes we must make them alter the way they walk through the world, their impure usage to whose sueded automatism we become accustomed.
•
There are fewer of them than there are trees; they can have roots descending downwards, but they don't grow upwards. Deep down, they find the sky disturbing. If they encounter it, they never again feel at ease in the savage throats of men. [81]
...and he's invigorated by the freedom with which someone who squanders the entire written application of the language can forge with such autonomous flights of orality their own fragile welds, as if these had emerged from some sacred and magical eternity. [50]
October 28, 2021
Phenomenal. Delicate, tender fragments of being. I can't wait to read more of this writer.
January 5, 2022
"There is a story. No one knows exactly when it began. Those who might be associated with it are, in fact, unaware that the story exists. It has no name to identify it, and it is unclear whether it has one protagonist or two. It could be A's story that B does not acknowledge, or vice versa. It could also be that neither of them knows the story exists and that it involves them. It is very likely that one will die without ever realizing that he is the story's true protagonist, and that the other has usurped his role. In any event, a story's existence, even if not well defined or well assigned, even if only in its formative stage, just barely latent, emits vague but urgent emanations."
Translated from the Spanish by Sean Manning, the now 98 year old Uruguayan writer and poet Ida Vitale's Byobu (El ABC de Byobu) is a super short book at 85 pages, a lot of them blank. It's structured into chapters ranging from one paragraph to a couple pages. There is no plot or narrative as such and the book is formed of the protagonist Byobu's musings, reflections, thoughts. It has a wandering jumping thread, signaling Byobu's very easily distracted nature.
As a result, the prose has a very impressionist feel and the chapters/vignettes read like prose poems. I also noticed interesting word choices and the playful language where Manning's role as a translator shines. Having said all this, I did struggle to make much sense and most of it remained elusive to me. I could only cajole a superficial enjoyment of the text and could not penetrate its depths. It is a dense and divergent book but ultimately frustrating, almost a cipher.
(I received a finished copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)
January 15, 2022
Multi-faceted philosophical musings from beginning to end. Not what I was expecting nevertheless beautiful in its execution. It got impenetrable, at times, with many layers left unpeeled. But these opaque musings, however amusing, cannot be substituted for payoff. There was hardly anything to hold on to other than the infinite possibilities of the mundane. Perhaps that's the whole point.
Read
November 8, 2021I have some good news: the best book of 2021 just arrived. Search no further. All the other contenders tapped out while this masterpiece was being completed.
Poet, translator, essayist, literary critic: Uruguayan author Ida Vitale, to paraphrase the esteemed scholar Ron Burgundy, is kind of a big deal. She celebrated her 98th birthday this month and was 80 when El ABC de Byobu was first published in 2004. She has more than 20 books to her name, including memoirs of her years spent in exile in Mexico, titled Shakespeare Palace.
Byobu is her first prose work to appear in English.
The titular narrator is a man possessed by the urge to notice, a "knack for stopping to look at minuscule things lacking in importance, things with no need for anyone's attention".
Everyman, comic, humourist, philosopher, punk, poet, Byobu struggles to make sense of the mundane world, a confrontation in which we all share. "The sum of the angles I long for is undoubtedly greater than 360," he tells us; and, poignantly: "No loss is more irreparable than that of mystery, which has vanished for the benefit of no one."
So, yes, echoes of Italo Calvino, especially Mr Palomar; but also the thoughtful seriousness animating Xavier de Maistre's Voyage Around My Room. Sean Manning, Byobu's translator, describes the experience of encountering Vitale's prose well: "[T]o read her work is to feel the beauty and power of precision, of sentences and verses that place you in nuances, not generalities."
Read on:
https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-11-0...
Poet, translator, essayist, literary critic: Uruguayan author Ida Vitale, to paraphrase the esteemed scholar Ron Burgundy, is kind of a big deal. She celebrated her 98th birthday this month and was 80 when El ABC de Byobu was first published in 2004. She has more than 20 books to her name, including memoirs of her years spent in exile in Mexico, titled Shakespeare Palace.
Byobu is her first prose work to appear in English.
The titular narrator is a man possessed by the urge to notice, a "knack for stopping to look at minuscule things lacking in importance, things with no need for anyone's attention".
Everyman, comic, humourist, philosopher, punk, poet, Byobu struggles to make sense of the mundane world, a confrontation in which we all share. "The sum of the angles I long for is undoubtedly greater than 360," he tells us; and, poignantly: "No loss is more irreparable than that of mystery, which has vanished for the benefit of no one."
So, yes, echoes of Italo Calvino, especially Mr Palomar; but also the thoughtful seriousness animating Xavier de Maistre's Voyage Around My Room. Sean Manning, Byobu's translator, describes the experience of encountering Vitale's prose well: "[T]o read her work is to feel the beauty and power of precision, of sentences and verses that place you in nuances, not generalities."
Read on:
https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-11-0...
December 1, 2021
"Every time I resolved to become someone different, I proceeded to stay the same."
December 3, 2020
La primera edición uruguaya de El ABC de Byobu se publicó en 2019. Se había publicado en México primeramente en 2004 y luego, al siguiente año en España.
Una acertada elección de tapa de esta edición nacional, reproduce el cuadro Maske der Angst (Máscara del miedo) de Paul Klee. Dicha obra de 1932 manifiesta la angustia y el rechazo ante la inminente amenaza del régimen nazi en la Alemania de la época, y en ella se observa un personaje, una máscara con expresión enigmática e irónica, con cuatro pies y sin manos, tras la que quizás se esconda una realidad tenebrosa e inestable.
Byobu es un término japonés del que proviene la palabra “biombo”, byó 'protección' y bu 'viento', para lo que se usaban en sus inicios, y luego, se comenzaron a usar como mamparas, tanto decorativas como con un uso práctico, como ya sabemos.
Esta es la especie de máscara que utiliza Vitale, que a través de este personaje, Byobu, va replegando en una treintena de capítulos cortos, escritos en una prosa poética eclipsante y que a simple vista parecen describir una vida que pone el ojo en lo mínimo, en lo pequeño, en los detalles cotidianos.
Si analizados a fondo, esos detalles, se doblan sobre sí mismos, se pliegan y esconden los miedos y los pecados del personaje, perfectamente extrapolables a cualquier mortal.
Ya conocía la poesía de Vitale, incluso he reseñado aquí su poesía completa. Y esto me ha parecido simplemente un ejercicio brillante, un trabajo lingüístico finísimo, algo a lo que ya nos tiene acostumbrados la autora.
"Las palabras son un modo de organizar el tumulto interior, de estar mejor que solo, callado. A veces hay que hacerles cambiar su forma de andar por el mundo, el uso impuro a cuyo automatismo agamuzado nos habituamos." (p.77)
Una acertada elección de tapa de esta edición nacional, reproduce el cuadro Maske der Angst (Máscara del miedo) de Paul Klee. Dicha obra de 1932 manifiesta la angustia y el rechazo ante la inminente amenaza del régimen nazi en la Alemania de la época, y en ella se observa un personaje, una máscara con expresión enigmática e irónica, con cuatro pies y sin manos, tras la que quizás se esconda una realidad tenebrosa e inestable.
Byobu es un término japonés del que proviene la palabra “biombo”, byó 'protección' y bu 'viento', para lo que se usaban en sus inicios, y luego, se comenzaron a usar como mamparas, tanto decorativas como con un uso práctico, como ya sabemos.
Esta es la especie de máscara que utiliza Vitale, que a través de este personaje, Byobu, va replegando en una treintena de capítulos cortos, escritos en una prosa poética eclipsante y que a simple vista parecen describir una vida que pone el ojo en lo mínimo, en lo pequeño, en los detalles cotidianos.
Si analizados a fondo, esos detalles, se doblan sobre sí mismos, se pliegan y esconden los miedos y los pecados del personaje, perfectamente extrapolables a cualquier mortal.
Ya conocía la poesía de Vitale, incluso he reseñado aquí su poesía completa. Y esto me ha parecido simplemente un ejercicio brillante, un trabajo lingüístico finísimo, algo a lo que ya nos tiene acostumbrados la autora.
"Las palabras son un modo de organizar el tumulto interior, de estar mejor que solo, callado. A veces hay que hacerles cambiar su forma de andar por el mundo, el uso impuro a cuyo automatismo agamuzado nos habituamos." (p.77)
December 29, 2021
I have no idea what I've read. And I don't know if I should know. Or if I'm even about to know.
"(Byobu knows that the real issues certain works raise, generally poetic, are not illuminated as much as he would like.)", p.46
Byobu is about storytelling and witnessing. And about all the possible and non-possible encounters between them. Byobu is the storyteller. He is the witness. He's the listener, the protagonist of the stories, the words of them. Byobu is the story. He is what's being looked at, the witnessed, the pictured one. Byobu is an everyman. He is everyone. He's all of us. Byobu is you and me.
I am Byobu. And that's about all I can say about this book.
"(Byobu knows that the real issues certain works raise, generally poetic, are not illuminated as much as he would like.)", p.46
Byobu is about storytelling and witnessing. And about all the possible and non-possible encounters between them. Byobu is the storyteller. He is the witness. He's the listener, the protagonist of the stories, the words of them. Byobu is the story. He is what's being looked at, the witnessed, the pictured one. Byobu is an everyman. He is everyone. He's all of us. Byobu is you and me.
I am Byobu. And that's about all I can say about this book.
July 16, 2020
Es la primera vez que me adentro a leer algo de Ida Vitale y la verdad, te lleva a salir de la tranquilidad. A través del personaje de Byobu nos adentramos en la reflexión de lo cotidiano, lo que nos topamos y no cuestionamos. De frases poéticas con verdades contundentes. Sobre todo las últimos párrafos, son de dejarte pensando un buen rato.
August 11, 2022
Rating: 3.75
Loved this; there are times when I can appreciate books that are laden with beautiful prose, and this one falls into this specific category. (I have a feeling its length plays an important part in my appreciation of such prose too, heh. A 300pg of such writing, no matter how beautiful, can be insufferable after a while. I'm looking at you, Tahereh Mafi's books.)
Loved this; there are times when I can appreciate books that are laden with beautiful prose, and this one falls into this specific category. (I have a feeling its length plays an important part in my appreciation of such prose too, heh. A 300pg of such writing, no matter how beautiful, can be insufferable after a while. I'm looking at you, Tahereh Mafi's books.)
January 2, 2023
There is not much I could write about Byobu that could enlighten you in any way. It is categorized as absurdist fiction, and it quite lives up to that. Byobu is written in fragments of thoughts and reflections from a third-person narrator that gives us direct access to Byobu's psyche.The chapters succeed one another in various lengths with no clear narrative plot in sight.
•
Byobu is at times introspective, at times quirky, and at times even funny. The writing is rife with hidden meaning, and little pockets of deep reflection that I relished. It is a peculiar read, as peculiar as Byobu hilmself , and it left me with numerous unanswered questions. Nonetheless, I quite enjoyed the almost lyrical and fluid language of Vitale as it was beautifully translated by Manning.
•
Although I wouldn't say that Byobu is for everyone if you're like me and enjoy losing yourself in words with no clear destination in sight, you will love Byobu.
•
"There are many who dream of the adventure that each day should hatch for them. But when it emerges, they find some flaw, even horrifying signs of leprosy, with the appearance they had imagined attractive. And they ignore it, though they never forget its unanswered call. And the story remains free, unoccupied, like a lightning bolt no lightning rod has grounded. Byobu knows he is more exposed than most. So he’s vigilant, watching suspiciously the stories that roam free, with no A or B who will have them."
•
"Everything important lies below the surface, suspects Byobu. This is why he digs, he digs wherever an open space presents itself, wherever he can reach a patch of ground without trees, without houses, without a shell. He loves the soil, that moist soil underneath, black and loamy, which he rids of its tiny pebbles – placed into a pile – and minute premature bulbs. His enthusiasm takes him to the earthworm, which springs from the darkness, a vibratile thread from the fragrant humus, a contortionist twisting gratuitously in disagreement with the light, aggravating its drama."
•
•
Byobu is at times introspective, at times quirky, and at times even funny. The writing is rife with hidden meaning, and little pockets of deep reflection that I relished. It is a peculiar read, as peculiar as Byobu hilmself , and it left me with numerous unanswered questions. Nonetheless, I quite enjoyed the almost lyrical and fluid language of Vitale as it was beautifully translated by Manning.
•
Although I wouldn't say that Byobu is for everyone if you're like me and enjoy losing yourself in words with no clear destination in sight, you will love Byobu.
•
"There are many who dream of the adventure that each day should hatch for them. But when it emerges, they find some flaw, even horrifying signs of leprosy, with the appearance they had imagined attractive. And they ignore it, though they never forget its unanswered call. And the story remains free, unoccupied, like a lightning bolt no lightning rod has grounded. Byobu knows he is more exposed than most. So he’s vigilant, watching suspiciously the stories that roam free, with no A or B who will have them."
•
"Everything important lies below the surface, suspects Byobu. This is why he digs, he digs wherever an open space presents itself, wherever he can reach a patch of ground without trees, without houses, without a shell. He loves the soil, that moist soil underneath, black and loamy, which he rids of its tiny pebbles – placed into a pile – and minute premature bulbs. His enthusiasm takes him to the earthworm, which springs from the darkness, a vibratile thread from the fragrant humus, a contortionist twisting gratuitously in disagreement with the light, aggravating its drama."
•
March 22, 2023
Probably a 3-star book, but it gets bumped up to 4 because the story/vignette ‘The Sensitive Toad’ is a perfect little thing.
May 25, 2023
Essentially a book of essays, not fictional vignettes. I believe marketing this as experimental fiction is incorrect; I would call it a philosophy book above all else. Byobu as a "character" is simply a way for Vitale to set the scene to realistically share her philosophies...a scapegoat or a logical method? Depends on your perspective. Ironically, one of the essays speaks about how no thought is truly original, but I find many of Vitale's philosophies to be genuinely original, at least in the written word. I feel that many of them are things many of us have thought about before but they remained unwritten because nobody could find the perfect words...until now. The book ends with a ladder of aphorisms that are a bit cheesy but they have profoundness in them as well. When you realize Vitale is pushing one hundred years old and is still alive, it makes you think of this all in a different perspective. If I'm not mistaken, this book is fairly recent, and the translation to English even more so, so I imagine her sense of mortality was really weighing and impending upon her whilst writing this. Sometimes the arguments are a bit self-important and pretentious and I am sure even such a famous writer was not immune to using a thesaurus given how extra some of the diction is, but this really makes you think, it just has a marketing issue. I will buy the physical copy of the English translation for my home to console me on a rainy day. Another note: "Byobu"'s experiences are very reminiscent of those of us on the spectrum.
April 4, 2023
I tried a lot to like this book, but couldn't. While the sentences, and the words that join them are sheer poetry, they somehow do not make any sense, and when they do, those moments are rare (or were for me at least). We know that there is a protagonist named, "Byobu" and things are happening to them, and the blurb also mentioned that "Byobu" is more of a spiritual character, and their experiences are somewhat other worldly but honestly, I couldn't feel any of that.
The writing gets too self-indulgent at most times, leaving the reader hunting for scraps to hold onto. I honestly had a tough time trying to get through the 120 odd-pages. Like I said, the writing is to some extent excellent, but I needed a plot and something more as a reader, which I didn't find at all. As for the translation, I wish it were made easier for the reader's sensibilities. It seemed way convoluted and in over its own head.
The writing gets too self-indulgent at most times, leaving the reader hunting for scraps to hold onto. I honestly had a tough time trying to get through the 120 odd-pages. Like I said, the writing is to some extent excellent, but I needed a plot and something more as a reader, which I didn't find at all. As for the translation, I wish it were made easier for the reader's sensibilities. It seemed way convoluted and in over its own head.
October 7, 2024
un libro difícil/denso pese a la corta extensión que no es simplemente una serie de frases inconexas
aunque no tiene argumento
aunque da igual lo que pasa (¿pasa algo?)
que a ratos me ha encantado y a ratos me ha parecido que no sabía exactamente donde me intentaba llevar (¿quería llevarme a algun sitio??)
guay
aunque no tiene argumento
aunque da igual lo que pasa (¿pasa algo?)
que a ratos me ha encantado y a ratos me ha parecido que no sabía exactamente donde me intentaba llevar (¿quería llevarme a algun sitio??)
guay
January 28, 2022
I loved reading about the inner workings of Byobu’s mind. Quirky and playful, but also causes you to stop and be introspective. Illustrative poetry that fit together like puzzle pieces.
This book was first published in Spanish by now 98 year old poet Ida Vitale in 1975 and has since been reprinted and beautifully translated into English in 2021. I also loved reading up on the impressive Ida, what a life and career.
This book was first published in Spanish by now 98 year old poet Ida Vitale in 1975 and has since been reprinted and beautifully translated into English in 2021. I also loved reading up on the impressive Ida, what a life and career.
Shelved as 'abandoned'
August 30, 2022I'm just not in the mood for the minutiae & wordplay. But perhaps I would retry it at another time.
August 10, 2022
*A grief-stricken square feels acutely trapezoidal.
*The sum of the angles I long for is undoubtedly greater than 360.
*Words should not be reiterated except in magical incantations.
*Poetry seeks to extract from its abyss certain words that might constitute the scar tissue we are all unconsciously chasing.
*No one can be enthusiastic in perpetuity. Only anxieties are perpetual.
*The sum of the angles I long for is undoubtedly greater than 360.
*Words should not be reiterated except in magical incantations.
*Poetry seeks to extract from its abyss certain words that might constitute the scar tissue we are all unconsciously chasing.
*No one can be enthusiastic in perpetuity. Only anxieties are perpetual.
July 14, 2023
"Poetry seeks to extract from the abyss certain words that might constitute the scar tissue we are all unconsciously chasing."
Originally written in 1975, Byobu by Ida Vitale has been translated and released by Charco Press. Byobu is a man and little else is really known about him. We do learn about his thinking in morsels of mimetic themes on the micro and macro scales. Gloriously surreal prose of an ambiguous nature left me asking more questions than it has answers. Hidden meanings abound which will necessitate a second reading to gain further insight. Or maybe like life, there are no certain answers and we are left with more questions than certainties.
"The same distance lies between good moods and bad moods as between ordinary life and desperation."
Fragmented and dreamy snippets into Byobu's life remain mysterious throughout this thought-provoking novella.
Ethereal and dense with meaning, Vitale's poetic ways are like anything I have read in recent memory, if ever. Either way, for an afternoon of reading I was completely enthralled by Byobu and it placed me in the present rather than looking ahead and attempting to figure out the plot. Perhaps that's the point of it all really, is being present. Byobu is another unique hit from Charco Press that I strongly recommend for those willing to be uncomfortable in the unknown.
"And beware not to forget the risk posed by crossroads. There all peaces come to an end. Nostalgia, perhaps, might begin. Or, per mishaps, maybe anxiety, discord and urgency."
Originally written in 1975, Byobu by Ida Vitale has been translated and released by Charco Press. Byobu is a man and little else is really known about him. We do learn about his thinking in morsels of mimetic themes on the micro and macro scales. Gloriously surreal prose of an ambiguous nature left me asking more questions than it has answers. Hidden meanings abound which will necessitate a second reading to gain further insight. Or maybe like life, there are no certain answers and we are left with more questions than certainties.
"The same distance lies between good moods and bad moods as between ordinary life and desperation."
Fragmented and dreamy snippets into Byobu's life remain mysterious throughout this thought-provoking novella.
Ethereal and dense with meaning, Vitale's poetic ways are like anything I have read in recent memory, if ever. Either way, for an afternoon of reading I was completely enthralled by Byobu and it placed me in the present rather than looking ahead and attempting to figure out the plot. Perhaps that's the point of it all really, is being present. Byobu is another unique hit from Charco Press that I strongly recommend for those willing to be uncomfortable in the unknown.
"And beware not to forget the risk posed by crossroads. There all peaces come to an end. Nostalgia, perhaps, might begin. Or, per mishaps, maybe anxiety, discord and urgency."
August 20, 2020
Anteriormente me había adentrado en sus primeros poemarios, pero es la primera vez que la leo en prosa. Esta prosa poética, relata la cotidianidad mínima e inútil de nuestro personaje: Byobu.
A lo largo de las pocas páginas que nos presenta, vemos distintas facetas del personaje en los detalles más absurdos de su vida cotidiana.
No es un libro que pretenda enseñar, sino hacer vivir la experiencia de Byobu en carne propia. Creo que lo logra. Tal vez en algún punto de nuestra vida somos como él, y tal vez por eso [parece] fácil sentirse un espejo del personaje que se manifiesta.
Sin dudas se transformó en uno de mis libros favoritos de este año.
A lo largo de las pocas páginas que nos presenta, vemos distintas facetas del personaje en los detalles más absurdos de su vida cotidiana.
No es un libro que pretenda enseñar, sino hacer vivir la experiencia de Byobu en carne propia. Creo que lo logra. Tal vez en algún punto de nuestra vida somos como él, y tal vez por eso [parece] fácil sentirse un espejo del personaje que se manifiesta.
Sin dudas se transformó en uno de mis libros favoritos de este año.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 56 reviews