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Marie Grubbe
Jacobsen's immediate importance was his status as the 'writer of his generation.' Jacobsen's breakthrough came already in 1876 with the historical and psychological novel Fru Marie Grubbe," entitled Marie Grubbe in English, "which for the first time in Danish literature presented a profound portrayal of a woman as a creature of instinct and desire and as a being searching for her own identity. The book's defiant individualism asserting human values as opposed to society's judgment was also a sign of modernity."
172 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1867
About the author
Jens Peter Jacobsen
89 books180 followersJacobsen was born in Thisted in Jutland, the eldest of the five children of a prosperous merchant. He went to school in Copenhagen and was a student at the University of Copenhagen in 1868. As a boy, he showed a remarkable talent for science, in particular botany. In 1870, although he was already secretly writing poetry, Jacobsen adopted botany as a profession. He was sent by a scientific body in Copenhagen to report on the flora of the islands of Anholt and Læsø.
Around this time, the discoveries of Charles Darwin began to fascinate him. Realizing that the work of Darwin was not well known in Denmark, he translated The Origin of Species and The Descent of Man into Danish.
When still young, Jacobsen was struck by tuberculosis which eventually ended his life. His illness prompted travels to southern Europe.
Literary works:
Jacobsen's canon consists of two novels, seven short stories, and one posthumous volume of poetry—small, but enough to place him as one of the most influential Danish writers.
Prose:
The historical novel Fru Marie Grubbe (1876, Eng. trans.: Marie Grubbe: A Lady of the Seventeenth Century, 1917) is the first Danish treatment of a woman as a sexual creature. Based upon the life of an authentic 17th century Danish noblewoman, it charts her downfall from a member of the royal family to the wife of a ferryman, as a result of her desire for an independent and satisfying erotic life. In many ways the book anticipates the themes of D. H. Lawrence.
Jacobsen's second novel, Niels Lyhne (1880, Eng. trans. 1919), traces the fate of an atheist in a merciless world: his lack of faith is "tested" by tragedies and personal crises until he dies in war, disillusioned but unrepentant.
Jacobsen's short stories are collected in Mogens og andre Noveller (1882, translated as Mogens and Other Tales, 1921, and Mogens and Other Stories, 1994). Among them must be mentioned "Mogens" (1872—his official debut), the tale of a young dreamer and his maturing during love, sorrow and new hope of love. "Et Skud i Taagen" ("A Shot in the Fog") is a Poe-inspired tale of the sterility of hatred and revenge. "Pesten i Bergamo" ("The Plague of Bergamo") shows people clinging to religion even when tempted to be "free men". Fru Fønss (1882) is a sad story about a widow's tragic break with her egoistic children when she wants to remarry.
Mogens og andre Noveller and Niels Lyhne were both highly praised by Rainer Maria Rilke in his letters to Franz Xaver Kappus, translated as Letters to a Young Poet.
Poetry:
The poems of Jacobsen are more influenced by late romanticism than his prose. Many of them are wistful, dreamy and melancholic but also naturalistic. Most important is the great obscure poem "Arabesque to a Hand-drawing by Michel Angelo" (about 1875) the idea of which seems to be that art is going to replace immortality as the meaning of life. They significantly inspired the Danish symbolist poetry of the 1890s.
Around this time, the discoveries of Charles Darwin began to fascinate him. Realizing that the work of Darwin was not well known in Denmark, he translated The Origin of Species and The Descent of Man into Danish.
When still young, Jacobsen was struck by tuberculosis which eventually ended his life. His illness prompted travels to southern Europe.
Literary works:
Jacobsen's canon consists of two novels, seven short stories, and one posthumous volume of poetry—small, but enough to place him as one of the most influential Danish writers.
Prose:
The historical novel Fru Marie Grubbe (1876, Eng. trans.: Marie Grubbe: A Lady of the Seventeenth Century, 1917) is the first Danish treatment of a woman as a sexual creature. Based upon the life of an authentic 17th century Danish noblewoman, it charts her downfall from a member of the royal family to the wife of a ferryman, as a result of her desire for an independent and satisfying erotic life. In many ways the book anticipates the themes of D. H. Lawrence.
Jacobsen's second novel, Niels Lyhne (1880, Eng. trans. 1919), traces the fate of an atheist in a merciless world: his lack of faith is "tested" by tragedies and personal crises until he dies in war, disillusioned but unrepentant.
Jacobsen's short stories are collected in Mogens og andre Noveller (1882, translated as Mogens and Other Tales, 1921, and Mogens and Other Stories, 1994). Among them must be mentioned "Mogens" (1872—his official debut), the tale of a young dreamer and his maturing during love, sorrow and new hope of love. "Et Skud i Taagen" ("A Shot in the Fog") is a Poe-inspired tale of the sterility of hatred and revenge. "Pesten i Bergamo" ("The Plague of Bergamo") shows people clinging to religion even when tempted to be "free men". Fru Fønss (1882) is a sad story about a widow's tragic break with her egoistic children when she wants to remarry.
Mogens og andre Noveller and Niels Lyhne were both highly praised by Rainer Maria Rilke in his letters to Franz Xaver Kappus, translated as Letters to a Young Poet.
Poetry:
The poems of Jacobsen are more influenced by late romanticism than his prose. Many of them are wistful, dreamy and melancholic but also naturalistic. Most important is the great obscure poem "Arabesque to a Hand-drawing by Michel Angelo" (about 1875) the idea of which seems to be that art is going to replace immortality as the meaning of life. They significantly inspired the Danish symbolist poetry of the 1890s.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 33 reviews
August 5, 2018
I was very impressed by Niels Lyhne which I read a year ago. A month ago, I read Rainer Maria Rilke's "Letters to a Young Poet" in which he described "Marie Grubbe" in glowing terms which prompted me to download Marie Grubbe from Project Gutenberg onto my Kobo. Reading it yesterday proved to be a let down.
Marie Grubbe is about a noble-women who lived in 17th Century Denmark. Her scandalous personal life appears has inspired an opera, several novels and recently a Danish television serious. Her erotic pilgrimage indeed took many turns. First, she married the illegitimate son of King Christian IV. After two adulterous affairs, she obtained a divorce. She then married a wealthy commoner whom she also divorced. Finally, she married one of her father's servants. Although he occasionally beat her, she was at last happy.
This presumably was highly sensational in 19th century Denmark. The book appears to the English-speaker like a precursor to Lady Chatterly. However, despite its apparent importance in the history of European literature and the debate on women's place in society, this book is a tedious bore. The narrative is disjointed. The characters fail to engage the reader's interest and the translation is wooden.
Marie Grubbe is about a noble-women who lived in 17th Century Denmark. Her scandalous personal life appears has inspired an opera, several novels and recently a Danish television serious. Her erotic pilgrimage indeed took many turns. First, she married the illegitimate son of King Christian IV. After two adulterous affairs, she obtained a divorce. She then married a wealthy commoner whom she also divorced. Finally, she married one of her father's servants. Although he occasionally beat her, she was at last happy.
This presumably was highly sensational in 19th century Denmark. The book appears to the English-speaker like a precursor to Lady Chatterly. However, despite its apparent importance in the history of European literature and the debate on women's place in society, this book is a tedious bore. The narrative is disjointed. The characters fail to engage the reader's interest and the translation is wooden.
December 18, 2021
"madam bavory kadar da bu kitabın okunması gerektiğini söylüyorum!" demişim bu kitabı eklediğimde. şu şahane kitap ne adam akıllı basıldı ne de bir kimsenin haberi var.
nerden çıktı, fb anılardan çıktı.
7 yıl önce bir alıntı paylaşmışım. benimle yaşayan bazı alıntılar var, biri bu kitaptan. lisede aşık olduğum kurgusal karakterinin adlarını defterlerin üzere yazan, sıraların üstüne kazıyan bir loserdım, Frederik bunlardan biriydi adsfadfshytgk
hiç hatırlamıyom kitabı ama ettiğim lafa bak. nys. fuarların birinde de bulmuştum eski baskılardan. şimdi okusam aynı lezzeti almam diye korkuyorum saftiriktik o zamanlar 👀 çünkü sanmıyom ki bu kitap romantik bir klasik olsun, şöyle bakarsanız şayet anlarsınız ne demek istediğimi.
"Parıltısıyla aklını yitiren zavallı bir pervaneye mumun akıllı olmasını vaaz etmek kolaydır."
nerden çıktı, fb anılardan çıktı.
7 yıl önce bir alıntı paylaşmışım. benimle yaşayan bazı alıntılar var, biri bu kitaptan. lisede aşık olduğum kurgusal karakterinin adlarını defterlerin üzere yazan, sıraların üstüne kazıyan bir loserdım, Frederik bunlardan biriydi adsfadfshytgk
hiç hatırlamıyom kitabı ama ettiğim lafa bak. nys. fuarların birinde de bulmuştum eski baskılardan. şimdi okusam aynı lezzeti almam diye korkuyorum saftiriktik o zamanlar 👀 çünkü sanmıyom ki bu kitap romantik bir klasik olsun, şöyle bakarsanız şayet anlarsınız ne demek istediğimi.
"Parıltısıyla aklını yitiren zavallı bir pervaneye mumun akıllı olmasını vaaz etmek kolaydır."
June 19, 2021
عندما قرأت الغلاف والتمهيد، ظننت إنني سأقرأ تحفة أدبية نادرة، ولكني تعرضت لعملية خداع كاملة، لم أجد أي نص أدبي مميز، لم أجد أي شيء يجذبني، لم أجد ماريا غروبة ذاتها! لا أعلم ما إذا كان السبب من المؤلف نفسه أم المترجم! عبث وإضاعة وقت بلا طائل
May 27, 2008
I wavered between two and three stars but decided to give it three. The beautiful writing was the reason why I finished the book and didn't quit my effort. I can see why the author is/was a popular poet but the story seemed to flow too quickly for my taste.
June 1, 2016
هي فين ماري غروبي؟!! دي لو كومبارس كانت هتظهر أكثر من كده !!
الملخص على غلاف النسخة العربية في إتجاه والرواية في إتجاه تاني خالص ولا عزاء للقراء
الملخص على غلاف النسخة العربية في إتجاه والرواية في إتجاه تاني خالص ولا عزاء للقراء
May 4, 2021
Dvě hvězdičky jen kvůli tomu, že konec byl jakž-takž snesitelný
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February 12, 2021This is perhaps the place to say a few words about the atheism that is a dreary side of Jacobsen’s rich and brilliant personality. Early in life, he became convinced that human beings must rid themselves of the idea that any supernatural power would interfere between themselves and their deeds. He saw a supreme moral value in the doctrine of evolution with its principle of a universe governed by laws of cause and effect. In Niels Lyhne he emphasized again and again the bitter theory that no one ever added an inch to his height by dreams, or changed the consequences of good and evil by wishes and aspirations. Niels tries to instill into himself and his wife the courage to face life as it is, without taking refuge from realities in a world of dreams. Further than this, Jacobsen attacked no sincere faith. It would be interesting to search out how far, since his day, his principle of the immutability of law has penetrated religious thought, but that would be beyond the scope of this sketch.
he wrote a friend that after all the only interesting thing was “the struggle of one or more human beings for existence, that is their struggle against the existing order of things for their right to exist in their own way.”
The court, which had hitherto met him with open arms, was cold as ice. The King, who had taken such a warm interest in his future, was indifference itself. There were no longer any hands stretched out to help him, and he began to miss them; for he was by no means man enough to go against the stream.
He always ended with mournful hints that his days were numbered, and that his broken heart would soon be carried to that place of healing where the bolsters were of black earth and the worms were chirurgeon.
serene and self-possessed
they would show her the most delicate attention and say the prettiest things with a courtly deference that quite raised her in her own estimation,—though to be sure it was tiresome when she found that they did it chiefly to keep in practice. Some of the older gentlemen were simply intolerable with their fulsome compliments and their mock gallantry, but the married women were worst of all, especially the brides. The encouraging, though a bit preoccupied glance, the slight condescending nod with head to one side, and the smile—half pitying, half jeering—with which they would listen to her—it was insulting! Moreover, the conduct of the - 99 - girls themselves was not of a kind to raise their position. They would never stand together, but if one could humiliate another, she was only too glad to do so. They had no idea of surrounding themselves with an air of dignity by attending to the forms of polite society the way the young married women did.
more exacting and grows weary as soon as his feeling no longer makes him new to himself. When he ceases to be intoxicated, he suddenly becomes more than sober. The flush and glamor of his ecstasy, which for a while gave him the assurance of a demigod, suddenly departs; he hesitates, he thinks, and begins - 111 - to doubt. He looks back at the chequered course of his passion, heaves a sigh, and yawns. He is beset with longing, like one who has come home after a lengthy sojourn in foreign parts, and sees the altogether too familiar though long- forgotten spots before him; as he looks at them, he wonders idly whether he has really been gone from this well-known part of the world so long.
perhaps a little colder, a shade more reserved, but still in a manner very different from what he had expected.
taking his measure, with a calm wonder, a cool, almost contemptuous curiosity. Not a gleam of hatred
But Marie was not thinking of revenge. She had forgotten both him and Karen Fiol. In that moment of unutterable disgust her love had been wiped out and left no traces, as a glittering bubble bursts and is no more. The glory of it is no more, and the iridescent colors it lent to every tiny picture mirrored in it are no more. They are - 144 - gone, and the eye which was held by their splendor and beauty is free to look about and gaze far out over the world which was once reflected in the glassy bubble.
With eyes wider open and senses more subtle. They drink with the very roots of their hearts that delight and joy of life which others can only grasp between coarse hands.
They seek flowers on the tree of life where others would never think to look, under dark leaves and on dry branches. But the mob—what does it know of pleasure in grief or despair?”
Because all the joys of this earth are hollow and pass away as shadows. Because every pleasure, while it bursts into bloom like a flowering rosebush, in the selfsame hour withers and drops its leaves like a tree in autumn. Because every delight, though it glow in beauty and the fullness of fruition, though it clasp you in sound arms, is that moment poisoned by the cancer of death, and even while it touches your mouth you feel it quivering in the throes of corruption. Is it joyful to feel thus? Must it - 148 - not rather eat like reddest rust into every shining hour, ay, like frost nip unto death every fruitful sentiment of the soul and blight it down to its deepest roots?”
“So it is this that leads your thoughts to the convent?” asked Marie, and looked down with a smile.
“It is so indeed, madam. Many a time have I fancied myself confined in a lonely cell or imprisoned in a high tower, sitting alone at my window, watching the light fade and the darkness well out, while the solitude, silent and calm and strong, has grown up around my soul and covered it like plants of mandrake pouring their drowsy juices in my blood. Ah, but I know full well that it is naught but an empty conceit; never could the solitude gain power over me! I should long like fire and leaping flame for life and what belongs to life—long till I lost my senses!
“Man’s mind is his kingdom. Come, now, down into yours!”
When nothing special called her attention or claimed her interest, she had a habit of slipping back into her own little world, from which she looked out at her surroundings with indifferent eyes; but now she entered into all that was going on, and if the others had not been so absorbed by the new and exciting events of those days, they would have been astonished at her changed manner. Her movements had a quiet assurance, her speech an almost hostile subtlety, and her eyes observed everything. As it was, no one noticed her except Ulrik Frederik, who would sometimes catch himself admiring her as if she were a stranger.
“. . . E di persona Anzi grande, che no; di vista allegra, Di bionda chioma, e colorita alquanto,”
Her mind held an exultant serenity, and her thoughts were clear as a cloudless sky. Her soul seemed to unfold its richest bloom in this blissful sense of power and harmony.
But it shall rise again from the ashes as the bird Phenix, more glorious and fiery than before—pray, shall it not?”
like the herb named the rose of Jericho. In the dry months it withers and curls up, but when there is a soft and balmy night, with a heavy fall of dew, all its leaves will unfold again, greener and fresher than ever before.”
the power of the beast in man and the scarcity of gold amid the dross of human nature. With cold, passionless eloquence he tried to show her how little consistency there was in man, how incomprehensible and uncomprehended, how weak-kneed and fumbling and altogether the sport of circumstance, that which was noble and that which was base fought for ascendancy in his soul.
Marie was more like a wild creature escaped from captivity, fleeing madly, without rest or pause, driven on and ever on by frantic fear of the chain that drags clanking in its track.
You are like children with a new toy; instead of playing with it, they must needs pull it to pieces and find out how it was made, and so spoil it. You never have time to hold and enjoy, because you are ever reaching and seeking. You cut the timber of life all up into thought-shavings.”
The world is getting uglier every day. We have but to look at ourselves
straight as a sceptre and stately as a throne
But there is that about her loveliness which makes you feel, when you see her, as on a holy morn when they blow the trumpets from the tower of the cathedral. A stillness comes over you, for she is like the sacred Mother of Sorrows on the beauteous painting; there is the same noble grief in her clear eyes, and the same hopeless, patient smile around her lips.
It was a comfort to pour out her grief where it met reverence and not pity
simply belonged to the class of people who are so secure in their own sense of normal and irreproachable mediocrity that they cannot refrain from asserting their superiority over the less fortunate and naïvely setting themselves up as models.
when she turned a deaf ear and did not even answer them, they finally made up their minds that it was best to let her go her own way
there was no room left in her for reflective amazement. Yet for a moment she followed the train of theoretical reasoning, and she thought of the golden Remigius and his firm faith in her, but the memory drew from her only a bitter smile and a forced sigh, and the next moment her thoughts were caught up again by other things.
akin to whatever is counted noblest and best in woman’s nature. For such was the manner in which the clay had been mixed out of which she was fashioned....
he wrote a friend that after all the only interesting thing was “the struggle of one or more human beings for existence, that is their struggle against the existing order of things for their right to exist in their own way.”
The court, which had hitherto met him with open arms, was cold as ice. The King, who had taken such a warm interest in his future, was indifference itself. There were no longer any hands stretched out to help him, and he began to miss them; for he was by no means man enough to go against the stream.
He always ended with mournful hints that his days were numbered, and that his broken heart would soon be carried to that place of healing where the bolsters were of black earth and the worms were chirurgeon.
serene and self-possessed
they would show her the most delicate attention and say the prettiest things with a courtly deference that quite raised her in her own estimation,—though to be sure it was tiresome when she found that they did it chiefly to keep in practice. Some of the older gentlemen were simply intolerable with their fulsome compliments and their mock gallantry, but the married women were worst of all, especially the brides. The encouraging, though a bit preoccupied glance, the slight condescending nod with head to one side, and the smile—half pitying, half jeering—with which they would listen to her—it was insulting! Moreover, the conduct of the - 99 - girls themselves was not of a kind to raise their position. They would never stand together, but if one could humiliate another, she was only too glad to do so. They had no idea of surrounding themselves with an air of dignity by attending to the forms of polite society the way the young married women did.
more exacting and grows weary as soon as his feeling no longer makes him new to himself. When he ceases to be intoxicated, he suddenly becomes more than sober. The flush and glamor of his ecstasy, which for a while gave him the assurance of a demigod, suddenly departs; he hesitates, he thinks, and begins - 111 - to doubt. He looks back at the chequered course of his passion, heaves a sigh, and yawns. He is beset with longing, like one who has come home after a lengthy sojourn in foreign parts, and sees the altogether too familiar though long- forgotten spots before him; as he looks at them, he wonders idly whether he has really been gone from this well-known part of the world so long.
perhaps a little colder, a shade more reserved, but still in a manner very different from what he had expected.
taking his measure, with a calm wonder, a cool, almost contemptuous curiosity. Not a gleam of hatred
But Marie was not thinking of revenge. She had forgotten both him and Karen Fiol. In that moment of unutterable disgust her love had been wiped out and left no traces, as a glittering bubble bursts and is no more. The glory of it is no more, and the iridescent colors it lent to every tiny picture mirrored in it are no more. They are - 144 - gone, and the eye which was held by their splendor and beauty is free to look about and gaze far out over the world which was once reflected in the glassy bubble.
With eyes wider open and senses more subtle. They drink with the very roots of their hearts that delight and joy of life which others can only grasp between coarse hands.
They seek flowers on the tree of life where others would never think to look, under dark leaves and on dry branches. But the mob—what does it know of pleasure in grief or despair?”
Because all the joys of this earth are hollow and pass away as shadows. Because every pleasure, while it bursts into bloom like a flowering rosebush, in the selfsame hour withers and drops its leaves like a tree in autumn. Because every delight, though it glow in beauty and the fullness of fruition, though it clasp you in sound arms, is that moment poisoned by the cancer of death, and even while it touches your mouth you feel it quivering in the throes of corruption. Is it joyful to feel thus? Must it - 148 - not rather eat like reddest rust into every shining hour, ay, like frost nip unto death every fruitful sentiment of the soul and blight it down to its deepest roots?”
“So it is this that leads your thoughts to the convent?” asked Marie, and looked down with a smile.
“It is so indeed, madam. Many a time have I fancied myself confined in a lonely cell or imprisoned in a high tower, sitting alone at my window, watching the light fade and the darkness well out, while the solitude, silent and calm and strong, has grown up around my soul and covered it like plants of mandrake pouring their drowsy juices in my blood. Ah, but I know full well that it is naught but an empty conceit; never could the solitude gain power over me! I should long like fire and leaping flame for life and what belongs to life—long till I lost my senses!
“Man’s mind is his kingdom. Come, now, down into yours!”
When nothing special called her attention or claimed her interest, she had a habit of slipping back into her own little world, from which she looked out at her surroundings with indifferent eyes; but now she entered into all that was going on, and if the others had not been so absorbed by the new and exciting events of those days, they would have been astonished at her changed manner. Her movements had a quiet assurance, her speech an almost hostile subtlety, and her eyes observed everything. As it was, no one noticed her except Ulrik Frederik, who would sometimes catch himself admiring her as if she were a stranger.
“. . . E di persona Anzi grande, che no; di vista allegra, Di bionda chioma, e colorita alquanto,”
Her mind held an exultant serenity, and her thoughts were clear as a cloudless sky. Her soul seemed to unfold its richest bloom in this blissful sense of power and harmony.
But it shall rise again from the ashes as the bird Phenix, more glorious and fiery than before—pray, shall it not?”
like the herb named the rose of Jericho. In the dry months it withers and curls up, but when there is a soft and balmy night, with a heavy fall of dew, all its leaves will unfold again, greener and fresher than ever before.”
the power of the beast in man and the scarcity of gold amid the dross of human nature. With cold, passionless eloquence he tried to show her how little consistency there was in man, how incomprehensible and uncomprehended, how weak-kneed and fumbling and altogether the sport of circumstance, that which was noble and that which was base fought for ascendancy in his soul.
Marie was more like a wild creature escaped from captivity, fleeing madly, without rest or pause, driven on and ever on by frantic fear of the chain that drags clanking in its track.
You are like children with a new toy; instead of playing with it, they must needs pull it to pieces and find out how it was made, and so spoil it. You never have time to hold and enjoy, because you are ever reaching and seeking. You cut the timber of life all up into thought-shavings.”
The world is getting uglier every day. We have but to look at ourselves
straight as a sceptre and stately as a throne
But there is that about her loveliness which makes you feel, when you see her, as on a holy morn when they blow the trumpets from the tower of the cathedral. A stillness comes over you, for she is like the sacred Mother of Sorrows on the beauteous painting; there is the same noble grief in her clear eyes, and the same hopeless, patient smile around her lips.
It was a comfort to pour out her grief where it met reverence and not pity
simply belonged to the class of people who are so secure in their own sense of normal and irreproachable mediocrity that they cannot refrain from asserting their superiority over the less fortunate and naïvely setting themselves up as models.
when she turned a deaf ear and did not even answer them, they finally made up their minds that it was best to let her go her own way
there was no room left in her for reflective amazement. Yet for a moment she followed the train of theoretical reasoning, and she thought of the golden Remigius and his firm faith in her, but the memory drew from her only a bitter smile and a forced sigh, and the next moment her thoughts were caught up again by other things.
akin to whatever is counted noblest and best in woman’s nature. For such was the manner in which the clay had been mixed out of which she was fashioned....
July 17, 2022
هذه الرواية والرواية الأخرى "صيد في نهر الحياة" للمترجم ذاته, قرأتهما مرتين (أولهما في هذه كانت بعام 2014 والأخرى كانت بعام 2015) لأستعيد أحداثهما الممسوحة تمامًا من لبِّيَ، وشكي في عمق استيعاب قراءاتي القديمة حينذاك، لأحدد مصير وجدهما عندي.
حسنًا، من تجربتي في قراءة أربعة أعمال تقريبا مختلفة لهذا المترجم، استنتجت الخلل مبكرًا في ترجماته المصاغَة؛ ألا وهو أن تأثير لغة الغربة طغت على لغته الأم في بعض نواحي تركيب الجمل والترجمة. كما أنه يوجد تأثير آخر للغربة وهو في فشل القدرة على جعل قراءة الأحداث سلسة القراءة والاندماج (تحدثت سابقا في مراجعةٍ ما عن مشكلة تشابهها وعن بعض أسبابها). وإن القارئ ليستشعر باستمرار انقطاع الترابط بين جملة وأخرى ولو كانت الجمل تمثل أوصافًا، ليتحول شكلها في نهاية المطاف كنصوص أدبية!
رغم جهد المترجم في محاولة نقل الأدب الدنماركي إلى العالم العربي دون الإخلال به إلا أنه لم ينجح، ولا أعلم هل كانت له قيود في نقل أحد الأعمال نقلًا كاملًا لا نقص فيها كهذا العمل أم لا؟
ففي هذه الرواية، الشخصية المُعنوَنَة بها، لم يُفهَم من وجودها وأهميتها شيء، ولا بما ذُكِر بغلاف الكتاب وتَربُصُنا به. وقد كتب أحدهم هنا تعليقًا ساخرًا بالقول: "لو كانت كومبارس، لظهرت أكثر من هذه الشخصية"! كان وصفًا عميقًا موفقًا منه. ناهيك عن أحداث الشخصيات الأخرى التي جعلت من الرواية كأنها مجموعة قصصية.
وإني حقًا لأود قراءة أعمال دانماركية بترجمات كاملة وجيدة الإخراج. كما أود أن يعيد المترجم نظرته للترجمة بعد مزيد من التحسينات اللغوية، فهو كاتب يستحق فرصة أخرى نظير جهده ووقته لنقله أدبًا مجهولًا تمامًا إلينا.
حسنًا، من تجربتي في قراءة أربعة أعمال تقريبا مختلفة لهذا المترجم، استنتجت الخلل مبكرًا في ترجماته المصاغَة؛ ألا وهو أن تأثير لغة الغربة طغت على لغته الأم في بعض نواحي تركيب الجمل والترجمة. كما أنه يوجد تأثير آخر للغربة وهو في فشل القدرة على جعل قراءة الأحداث سلسة القراءة والاندماج (تحدثت سابقا في مراجعةٍ ما عن مشكلة تشابهها وعن بعض أسبابها). وإن القارئ ليستشعر باستمرار انقطاع الترابط بين جملة وأخرى ولو كانت الجمل تمثل أوصافًا، ليتحول شكلها في نهاية المطاف كنصوص أدبية!
رغم جهد المترجم في محاولة نقل الأدب الدنماركي إلى العالم العربي دون الإخلال به إلا أنه لم ينجح، ولا أعلم هل كانت له قيود في نقل أحد الأعمال نقلًا كاملًا لا نقص فيها كهذا العمل أم لا؟
ففي هذه الرواية، الشخصية المُعنوَنَة بها، لم يُفهَم من وجودها وأهميتها شيء، ولا بما ذُكِر بغلاف الكتاب وتَربُصُنا به. وقد كتب أحدهم هنا تعليقًا ساخرًا بالقول: "لو كانت كومبارس، لظهرت أكثر من هذه الشخصية"! كان وصفًا عميقًا موفقًا منه. ناهيك عن أحداث الشخصيات الأخرى التي جعلت من الرواية كأنها مجموعة قصصية.
وإني حقًا لأود قراءة أعمال دانماركية بترجمات كاملة وجيدة الإخراج. كما أود أن يعيد المترجم نظرته للترجمة بعد مزيد من التحسينات اللغوية، فهو كاتب يستحق فرصة أخرى نظير جهده ووقته لنقله أدبًا مجهولًا تمامًا إلينا.
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October 28, 2017I confess that I gave up on reading this in Danish, and instead read a wonky PDF in English on my iPad (only to discover after I finished that there was a perfectly clear version available). This classic novel takes a historic figure from the late 1600s in Denmark and tries to bring her to life. Extensive descriptions of nature help create a credible setting for the psychological portrayal of Marie Grubbe as of a woman whose desires and strength of character lead her to make unexpected choices in a time when marriage was a contract based on economy and class rather than love. I look forward to a lively discussion with my Danish book group about the ways in which this novel broke with the literary norms of its times much in the same way that Marie Grubbe broke with the behavioral norms of hers.
Please note that I don't use the star rating system, so this review (not that J. P. Jacobsen is checking) should not be viewed as a zero.
Please note that I don't use the star rating system, so this review (not that J. P. Jacobsen is checking) should not be viewed as a zero.
October 22, 2022
Molto bello, la storia è molto interessante e ho apprezzato tantissimo le discussioni che ne abbiamo fatto in classe — il modo in cui viene raccontata la vicenda esistenziale di una donna che si sottrae alle convenzioni sociali per raggiungere il proprio io più vero (e animale) non può non muovere qualcosa nel mio cuoricino femminista. MA, ciò che ho amato di più sono le descrizioni: la descrizione di una città tedesca (ora non ricordo quale) di notte, nella sua umidità e freddezza, la descrizione della luce del tramonto che entra nella stanza di Marie Grubbe in Norvegia dopo che ha picchiato l'amante del marito, e tantissimi altri paragrafi descrittivi mi hanno completamente stregata. Li avrò riletti almeno sette volte ognuno. L'esattezza e la bellezza con cui Jacobsen descrive le cose tradisce la penna di uno scienziato, ma anche di uno a cui sinceramente voglio bene.
December 19, 2014
مكتوب على الغلاف الخلفي أن الكتاب يحكي التغيرات التي تطرأ على حياة امرأة ارستقراطية بعد زواجها من ابن الملك وثم من أحد مالكي الأراضي وأخيرا من سائس للخيول .. لكن محتوى الرواية لم يتضمن أي من هذه الزيجات الثلاث ؟؟؟
لم أجد فائدة ولا متعة في قراءة هذه الرواية .. لا أوصي بها .
لم أجد فائدة ولا متعة في قراءة هذه الرواية .. لا أوصي بها .
March 21, 2013
A story of the passion-driven life written by one of the greatest artists ever to exercise exquisite command of the danish language
June 14, 2021
After the dreadful purple prose of
Niels Lyhne,
which I was willing to chalk up to a poor translation, I decided to give Jacobsen another shot after reading a glowing description of his work by Rilke in Letters to a Young Poet. In the first couple chapters, this historical novel seems promising: Marie is introduced in a sympathetic (if clichéd) manner as a beauty stuck in a dreary home life. Unfortunately, the novel soon begins to suffer from the same flaw as Niels Lyhne: a numbing combination of melodramatic, flowery prose and narrative tedium that made the second half of the novel a slog. I only finished it because I had checked out the book from my local library, and some other poor soul placed the book on hold before I could renew it. That gave me the motivation to push through so as to get the book back on time. I’m afraid I can’t blame the translator in this case. Jacobsen’s prose just doesn’t appeal to me at all. My condolences to the next library patron who reserved this one.
December 31, 2021
Ho iniziato la lettura di questo romanzo con le più alte aspettative, vista la mia profondissima predilezione per Niels Lyhne.
Ebbene, non credo che Marie Grubbe sia della stessa forza del successivo -e straordinario- romanzo di Jacobsen. Somiglia di più alla sua “sorella minore”, ancora non completamente maturata: qui e là mostra i segni della grandezza di Niels -forse aver letto prima quest’ultimo ha creato tale impressione-, soprattuto, per quanto mi riguarda, nei dialoghi tra Marie e Stig, ma non ha la stessa incisività, non ha lo stesso valore universale.
Marie Grubbe è un romanzo che racconta di un personaggio realmente esistito. Potrebbe forse risiedere qui la ragione della sua misura minore, sempre per confronto con Niels Lyhne? Dove questo non ha limiti imposti dalla realtà contingente degli avvenimenti storici, forse Marie Grubbe ha risentito, in modo negativo, di quegli stessi limiti.
Mi ha dato l’impressione di essere un libro fin troppo misurato, frutto di uno Jacobsen pudico, modesto.
Magnifica modestia, sia chiaro, perché la bellezza della scrittura di Jacobsen è anche qui palese, la sua abilità pittorica -dalle labbra della piccola Marie, protagoniste della prima straordinaria scena in cui la incontriamo- ha a disposizione una ricca tavolozza, ma c’è, mi pare, una certa timidezza nel raccontare, un cauto risparmiarsi dove avrebbe potuto svettare.
Marie Grubbe è un romanzo che racconta di un personaggio realmente esistito. Potrebbe forse risiedere qui la ragione della sua misura minore, sempre per confronto con Niels Lyhne? Dove questo non ha limiti imposti dalla realtà contingente degli avvenimenti storici, forse Marie Grubbe ha risentito, in modo negativo, di quegli stessi limiti.
Mi ha dato l’impressione di essere un libro fin troppo misurato, frutto di uno Jacobsen pudico, modesto.
Magnifica modestia, sia chiaro, perché la bellezza della scrittura di Jacobsen è anche qui palese, la sua abilità pittorica -dalle labbra della piccola Marie, protagoniste della prima straordinaria scena in cui la incontriamo- ha a disposizione una ricca tavolozza, ma c’è, mi pare, una certa timidezza nel raccontare, un cauto risparmiarsi dove avrebbe potuto svettare.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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January 4, 2024Uma estória de paixão que soa tão fria. Na verdade da busca de identidade e felicidade em algo próximo amor. Uma pena que Jens Peter Jacobsen não conseguiu escrever a história da vida de Marie Grubbe de forma vivaz. Jacobsen é um grande admirador das forças do mundo natural, sua prosa na descrição destes é excelso em suas outras obras,podemos ver um pouco disto aqui,mas não parece combinar com o estilo do livro parte histórica e biografia ficcionalizada de uma mulher que escandalizou a sociedade dinamarquesa no século XVII.
A protagonista fica sem voz na sua própria estória. E a frente vem outras características presentes em outras obras, como a beleza mundo natural, a descrença sobre o divino e influência na vida humana, solidão, tédio e a condição humana.
E ainda assim achei interessante e consigo ver o seu impacto "literário " em outros escritores como Strindberg, que se inspirou neste para escrever Miss Julie and Zora Neale Hurston com "Seus olhos viam Deus".
Afinal a vida de Grubbe se espelha em alguns aspectos a de Jacobsen,ver a vida acontecer de uma janela a maior parte do tempo .
A protagonista fica sem voz na sua própria estória. E a frente vem outras características presentes em outras obras, como a beleza mundo natural, a descrença sobre o divino e influência na vida humana, solidão, tédio e a condição humana.
E ainda assim achei interessante e consigo ver o seu impacto "literário " em outros escritores como Strindberg, que se inspirou neste para escrever Miss Julie and Zora Neale Hurston com "Seus olhos viam Deus".
Afinal a vida de Grubbe se espelha em alguns aspectos a de Jacobsen,ver a vida acontecer de uma janela a maior parte do tempo .
October 15, 2020
Marie Grubbe / Jens Peter Jakobsen
I847-1885 arasında yaşamış Danimarka'lı yazar Flaubert hayranıymış. Bu roman da Madam Bovary'den etkilenmiş. Marie aşık olduğu, kralın üvey oğlu Ulrik ile evlenir. Kocası yurtdışı bir göreve atanınca gözden ırak olan gönülden de olur. Aşkları yara alır. Buna bir de Ulrik'in ihaneti eklenince Marie baba evine döner. Bundan sonraki yaşamında gerçek aşkı ve mutluluğu nerede bulabilecektir. Yine zenginlik içinde bir şatoda mı yoksa yoksul bir köylüyle bir kulübede mi yaşayacaktır? Marie Grubbe Madam Bovary' den daha cesur çıkacak kendi kaderine yön verebilecektir. Yazar öyküyü doyumsuz ay ışığı, çiçekli saray bahçeleri, yemyeşil orman betimlemeleri ve kahramanların ruh çözümlemeleriyle anlatıyor bize.
I847-1885 arasında yaşamış Danimarka'lı yazar Flaubert hayranıymış. Bu roman da Madam Bovary'den etkilenmiş. Marie aşık olduğu, kralın üvey oğlu Ulrik ile evlenir. Kocası yurtdışı bir göreve atanınca gözden ırak olan gönülden de olur. Aşkları yara alır. Buna bir de Ulrik'in ihaneti eklenince Marie baba evine döner. Bundan sonraki yaşamında gerçek aşkı ve mutluluğu nerede bulabilecektir. Yine zenginlik içinde bir şatoda mı yoksa yoksul bir köylüyle bir kulübede mi yaşayacaktır? Marie Grubbe Madam Bovary' den daha cesur çıkacak kendi kaderine yön verebilecektir. Yazar öyküyü doyumsuz ay ışığı, çiçekli saray bahçeleri, yemyeşil orman betimlemeleri ve kahramanların ruh çözümlemeleriyle anlatıyor bize.
December 23, 2018
Fru Marie Grubbe is a prime example of naturalist literature. J.P. Jacobsen's writing is beautiful at times, but tedious at others. If you read only an excerpt, the first chapter is the best. However, this is a must-read for anyone interested in The Modern Breakthrough in Scandinavia. Jacobsen inspired fellow writers such as Amalie Skram.
3 stars:
Pros:
*Beautiful writing at times
*An early 'historical fiction'
*Great example of naturalist writing
Cons:
-*The flow and structure is not ideal.
-*As th book progresses the quality falls.
3 stars:
Pros:
*Beautiful writing at times
*An early 'historical fiction'
*Great example of naturalist writing
Cons:
-*The flow and structure is not ideal.
-*As th book progresses the quality falls.
September 16, 2018
This is a wonderful novel from 1873, recommended by Rilke in his Letters To a Young Poet. It is a somewhat fictionalized biography of Fru Grubbe, whose life went up and down the social hierarchy more than once. She is a fascinating character, whose movements and relationships are documented in Danish archives and governmental records.
August 15, 2023
«La seva vida havia conclòs, el curs de la seva existència estava exhaurit; trobar un racó tranquil per recolzar-hi el cap cansat i no aixecar-lo mai més, aquest era l'objectiu de tots els seus desitjos.
Aquest és l’estat d’ànim en què es trobava quan va arribar a Nuremberg.»
Acompanyat per Wooden Arms de Patrick Watson.
Aquest és l’estat d’ànim en què es trobava quan va arribar a Nuremberg.»
Acompanyat per Wooden Arms de Patrick Watson.
September 17, 2017
الرواية الخاليه من اي شي يمت لفن الروايه
الا من الوصف المفرط الممل
تحذير ان تخدعك المقدمه عندما تصفها بانها اعظم و اروع و اجمل الاعمال الكلاسيكيه
ف الحقيقه المقدمه كانت تصف روايه ثانيه, اعتقد
لأنها في اتجاه و الروايه ف اتجاه اخر
الا من الوصف المفرط الممل
تحذير ان تخدعك المقدمه عندما تصفها بانها اعظم و اروع و اجمل الاعمال الكلاسيكيه
ف الحقيقه المقدمه كانت تصف روايه ثانيه, اعتقد
لأنها في اتجاه و الروايه ف اتجاه اخر
May 8, 2023
Hans naturbeskrivelser er smukke, men dialogen var tit ret svær at læse og jeg havde håbet på mere dybde i hans karakterer. Men jeg hygger mig altid, når jeg dykker ned i de klassiske romaners sprog og gamle ord.
May 28, 2023
Egentlig godt skrevet, men sproget i dialogen var svært for mig at følge med i, da det er skrevet som man talte i 1600-tallet. Det skal siges, at jeg hørte bogen som lydbog. Måske det havde været nemmere at fange dialogerne, hvis læsningen var på papir.
October 23, 2019
Not my cup of joe.
Shelved as 'abandoned'
August 6, 2022Jag tyckte om början (särskilt komiskt att läsa alla kommentarer om svenskar under belägringen!) men någonstans runt mitten blev det bara tråkigt...
September 2, 2022
Interesant når ser på sprogbrug og hans metafore. Hans kærlighed for naturen skinner igennem. Dog havde jeg håber på mere psykologisk dybde.
October 20, 2023
Det er da godt at romankunsten har udviklet sig siden J. P. Jacobsen tid!
December 29, 2013
قراءة كتاب بطبعة جديدة للغاية قد يكون من أفضل المفاجآت أو أشنع الخيبات. وهذا الكتاب من الصنف الثاني.
لم أجد أبدا تفاصيل الأحداث التي لخصت على غلاف الرواية التي -كما يشهد الغلاف- تحكي عن التغيرات التي مرت فيها ماريا غروبة. للأسف فالمدعوة ماريا لم تظهر إلا لماما، في خضم المغامرات العاطفية لأحد فرسان الملك، ولم أستطع أن أتيقن من مصيرها خلال صفحات الكتاب التي تجاوزت المائة. كنت على خطأ مني أظن المشكلة في الترجمة أو في دار النشر التي غفلت عن ترجمة وطباعة تتمة الكتاب لكن لسوء حظ هذا الكتاب فإن حجمه بلغته الأصلية لا يزيد إلا بحوالي خمسين صفحة عن النسخة العربية، ولا أظن أيضاً أنها كافية لأعرف حتى من كانت ماريا غروبة !!
لم أجد أبدا تفاصيل الأحداث التي لخصت على غلاف الرواية التي -كما يشهد الغلاف- تحكي عن التغيرات التي مرت فيها ماريا غروبة. للأسف فالمدعوة ماريا لم تظهر إلا لماما، في خضم المغامرات العاطفية لأحد فرسان الملك، ولم أستطع أن أتيقن من مصيرها خلال صفحات الكتاب التي تجاوزت المائة. كنت على خطأ مني أظن المشكلة في الترجمة أو في دار النشر التي غفلت عن ترجمة وطباعة تتمة الكتاب لكن لسوء حظ هذا الكتاب فإن حجمه بلغته الأصلية لا يزيد إلا بحوالي خمسين صفحة عن النسخة العربية، ولا أظن أيضاً أنها كافية لأعرف حتى من كانت ماريا غروبة !!
September 20, 2015
This old novel bored me thoroughly. The (true) story is about passion, but I found the draggy text itself really dry.
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Danish Culture Canon Project - 5/10
Previous entry: Jammers Minde by Leonora Christina
Next up: Ved vejen by Herman Bang
...
Danish Culture Canon Project - 5/10
Previous entry: Jammers Minde by Leonora Christina
Next up: Ved vejen by Herman Bang
February 24, 2011
dobra, u stvari odlichna.
stil raskoshan, da ne kazhem kitnjast, ali to bash tako i treba.
saosecala sam sa marijom tokom chitave priche.
dobila ideju za prichu.
mislim da je to i vishe nego dovoljno da dobijesh nakon/tokom chitanja.
stil raskoshan, da ne kazhem kitnjast, ali to bash tako i treba.
saosecala sam sa marijom tokom chitave priche.
dobila ideju za prichu.
mislim da je to i vishe nego dovoljno da dobijesh nakon/tokom chitanja.
September 3, 2019
Jeg kunne godt lide den. Man fokuserer generelt meget på hendes sociale deroute, men jeg synes egentlig det var mere interessant med nutidens øjne, at hun ikke bare bøjede nakken og fandt sig i at blive dårligt behandlet, men i stedet tog sin skæbne i egne hænder og tog de slag det medførte.
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