Приказка без край

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Тема за романа на Михаел Енде.

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Aerin's review on Goodreads:

“Are you and I and all Fantastica,” she asked, “are we all recorded in this book?”

He wrote, and at the same time she heard his answer: “No, you’ve got it wrong. This book is all Fantastica - and you and I.”

“But where is this book?”

And he wrote the answer: “In the book.”


Ah, metafiction for children. Books within books within books, and all the same book. The Neverending Story. The two snakes, red and green, biting each other’s tails and forming an oval: the amulet AURYN. Mirrored in the red and green printing throughout the book - red for events in the real world, and green for Fantastica. And the twenty-six chapters, each headed with an illuminated letter, starting with A (“All the beasts in Howling Forest...”) and proceeding to Z (“Zigzagging unsteadily...”).

As a physical object, this is one of the most beautiful, and certainly the most treasured, books I own. I own it in both English and the original German, and the German copy, especially, is so completely gorgeous I hesitate to handle it too often.

But the story inside the book is so much more dear to me.

This is my favorite book. That’s not a shared honor. I don’t think it’s possible any other story could ever mean as much to me, or shape my life in such a significant fashion.

I learned German so that I could read this book in its original language. I still wear the double-ouroboros AURYN pendant I spent years combing through jewelry stores searching for. I still fly into a frothing rage whenever somebody mentions that abomination of a movie adaptation. My love of this book is pretty freaking monumental.


And it all goes back to when I was eleven.

You have to understand, The Neverending Story is really three books (which are, as I said, all the same book). It exists within Fantastica (which is the landscape of the human imagination, and where most of the story takes place), where the Old Man of Wandering Mountain, the omniscient chronicler of all that happens, is writing it.

[The light] came from an open book, which hovered in midair at the center of the egg-shaped room. It was tilted in such a way that she could see the binding, which was of copper-colored silk, and on the binding, as on the Gem, which the Childlike Empress wore around her neck, she saw an oval formed by two snakes biting each other’s tail. Inside this oval was printed the title: The Neverending Story.

And it exists in Bastian’s world, where he steals it from an old bookstore.

He picked up the book and examined it from all sides. It was bound in copper-colored silk that shimmered when he moved it about. Leafing through the pages, he saw the book was printed in two colors. There seemed to be no pictures, but there were large, beautiful capital letters at the beginning of the chapters. Examining the binding more closely, he discovered two snakes on it, one light and one dark. They were biting each other’s tail, so forming an oval. And inside the oval, in strangely intricate letters, he saw the title: The Neverending Story.

And it exists in the real world too. My world. Where the book essentially matches the same description, although neither of my copies are bound in silk, and only the German version actually has AURYN embossed into the cover, surrounding the title.

So when Bastian discovers he’s reading the same book the Old Man is writing, and I, at eleven, discovered I was reading the same book Bastian had stolen from Coreander, it was basically the coolest thing to ever happen to me.

But it’s not just that.

The book is about Atreyu, a ten-year-old boy hero on a quest, and it’s about Bastian, a ten-year-old boy loser who isn’t good at anything but reading. And when you come across those nested stories as an eleven-year-old girl outcast whose entire life has gone straight to hell in the past year, and whose only escape is reading, let me tell you, something clicks. This book was for me. This book was written for only me, just as Bastian’s version was written for only him.

He, Bastian, was a character in the book which until now he had thought he was reading. And heaven only knew who else might be reading it at the exact same time, also supposing himself to be just a reader.

It’s a magical kind of perfection that can only rarely be duplicated (though if you know any bookish kids around ten or twelve who are going through a rough time, by all means, get them a copy of this book!)

So there’s a heaping amount of nostalgia coloring my opinion, sure.

But this book holds up. There is a lot here that I didn’t get at eleven, and a lot that I’m still trying to figure out now. It’s a story that works on so many levels and with so many themes and fascinating details that I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like I completely have a handle on it.

So I’m just going to try and get some of my thoughts down.

First, let’s get the movie issue out of the way. I know a lot of people like it. I am not one of those people. The acting’s bad, the puppets are atrocious (THEY MADE FALKOR LOOK LIKE A FLYING DOG OH MY GOD), the effects are laughable (I know it was the 80’s, but STILL). I won’t get into ALL the reasons why I think it’s shit, except for the main one: IT ENDS HALFWAY THROUGH THE BOOK.

Remember how there are twenty-six chapters in alphabetical order? The movie ends before we even get to M. And I’m probably in the minority, but I think the second half is by far the more interesting, complex portion of the story.

Now, I can see why you couldn’t put the whole book into one movie, and I can see why the halfway point was a good place to end it. But it means that most of my generation thinks that the story ends with Bastian spending like thirty seconds in Fantastica (called Fantasia in the movie) before terrorizing his former bullies on a flying fucking dog (yelling “wheeeeeeeee!” over a techno soundtrack), the end, roll credits.

Oh no, my friends. Oh no. That is not what happens.

The second half of the book is concerned with Bastian’s adventures in Fantastica. And while the plot is less directed than in the first half (Atreyu’s quest is over; Fantastica has been saved), this is where the story gets really dark and becomes a fascinating character study of this boy who is given absolute power and an infinite number of wishes granted at his command.

If you’re not familiar with the book or the film, the basic premise at first is that Fantastica is dying because humans no longer care about the imagination. So the boy Atreyu is sent on a quest by the monarch/avatar, the deathly ill Childlike Empress, to find a cure for her and a savior for Fantastica.

Atreyu succeeds, but not in a traditional way. The quest itself is fruitless - he only ends up finding information that the Empress already knows. But the story of his quest, as written in The Neverending Story succeeds in capturing Bastian’s attention and concern, and he is what they need. Because all that is needed is a new name for the Childlike Empress, which will renew her and Fantastica. But only a human can give her one, because everything and everyone in Fantastica is a creation and cannot themselves create. As Uyulala, the Southern Oracle, puts it:

Who can give the Childlike Empress
The new name that will make her well?
Not you, not I, no elf, no djinn,
Can save us from the evil spell.
For we are figures in a book--
We do what we were invented for,
But we can fashion nothing new
And cannot change from what we are.

So Bastian saves the day by calling the Empress “Moon Child”, and as a reward she brings him to Fantastica and gives him her emblem AURYN, which will grant him an infinite number of wishes.

And that’s when Bastian begins his decline.

As a character, I have always found Bastian fascinating. It was Atreyu that I loved (my first literary crush!), but Bastian that I identified with. At the beginning, he’s such a completely pathetic and pitiful character. Fat, awkward, slow (both physically and mentally), he seemingly has no talents except for making up stories. And he’s recently lost his mother to death and his father to crippling grief. He’s essentially an orphan. But despite his lack of any enviable qualities, I couldn’t help but like him and root for him and identify with him.

But then he gets everything he ever wanted, and he becomes... well, the asshole you might expect, but also something even more sinister. Because every time he makes a wish, the price is that he loses a memory, a piece of himself. By the end of the book, he doesn’t even remember who he is, and he has committed atrocious, unforgivable acts against his friends, his idols, and Fantastica itself. It’s a really dark, haunting story, the second half of this book, and I really wish it were given the credit it’s due instead of completely ignored (as in the movie), or written off as some extended coda (like I’ve seen in a lot of the reviews here on GoodReads).

The second half affected me far more deeply than the first, and I will never forget how completely, literally breathless with shock and horror I was the first time I read about [spoiler]Bastian stabbing Atreyu.[/spoiler] Holy SHIT! It’s freaking INTENSE!

And then [spoiler]Atreyu coming back at the end, after everything Bastian has done to him, and vouching for Bastian when he no longer remembers his own name, so that Bastian can go home again. There’s that question AURYN asks: “By what right do you do this?” And Atreyu simply responds: “I am his friend.”[/spoiler] Oh my god. I cried so hard. I may never love any real person as much as I loved Atreyu when I was eleven.

There’s a lot more I could talk about - I took over 10 pages of notes on this read-through. Things like, the theory that Atreyu is really an aspect or avatar of Bastian (the Mirror Gate, y’all!), or my thinky thoughts on who and what the Childlike Empress really is (“No one in Fantastica knows, no one can know. That’s the deepest secret of our world. I once heard a wise man say that if anyone were to know the whole answer, he would cease to exist.”), or the freaking awesomeness of Gmork and his soliloquy on lies, or just allll the incredible side characters (Urgl and Engywook most especially!) and alllll the evocative places (the picture mine!)

And the prose! The illustrations! The symbolism! The Nothing!

There’s just so much here.

If I had the time I could write The Neverending Review.

But that is another story and shall be told another time.

И мой към нейния:

Well ... this is a review that made me cry. Because it reminded me of what I was then: at, in my case, nine.

It feels as if adding anything will only take from this ... from its completeness. But still: I wish you to find that larger-than-Atreyu person, in our very real, no less fantastic world. You know what for.

[Кал]

Ако искате да подкрепите „Приказка без край“ в онлайн класацията „Книгата, която ме вдъхновява“ – гласувайте тук, до 12 октомври.

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Ако пак искате да подкрепите „Приказка без край“ в онлайн класацията „Книгата, която ме вдъхновява“ – гласувайте тук, до 19 октомври.

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Мой отзив:

(долу и на български, но по-прибрано ;)

The first--and still most luminous--story that urged me to stop running away from my life into books and start weaving books back into my life. If this sounds too abstract, consider the Human Library: a child of The Neverending Story, a sister of Moonchild.

This book made me polish my German enough to read it in the original. (And make notes of important mistakes in the Bulgarian translation. ;)

It made me itch to create a MUSH, where no two lands of Fantastica ever stay in the same place (so good luck with making your way from point A to point B :D), and the Temple of a Thousand Doors prods you to ponder, Who am I?, and you get to help Atreyu with completing at least a few of those stories started by Bastian, and you meet others, others like you, like me, like us.

It made me look for my truest wish: the one that doesn't go away and doesn't throw the past away (unless it's truly time to let go and move on).

It made me who I am--along with A Requiem for Homo Sapiens and The Last Unicorn--more than any other book.

And--for the more academic types among you ;)--it epitomizes a host of ideas distilled in The Encyclopedia of Fantasy.

~ ~ ~

Първата – и все още най-ярката – история, която ме насърчи да спра да бягам от живота си в книгите и да започна да ги вплитам обратно в него.

В Човешката библиотека съм събрал най-насърчаващите откъси:

http://choveshkata.net/blog/?p=3352

Добавка от 16.01.2016: При този пореден (мисля, девети) препрочит си дадох сметка, че „Приказка без край“ е и най-ярката илюстрация на идеите, дестилирани в The Encylcopedia of Fantasy.

...И избрани отклици към него:

Аз ѝ се радвам от дете – за пръв път я прочетох на 9, и после – горе-долу веднъж на всеки 3 години. Смайващо е как се разлиства пласт по пласт. Като кулата на Детската царица. ;)

Бравос! Ти си герой! На мен ми се видя доста сложна и оплетена, пък и вече бях гледала филма...
Но страшно много харесвам "Сатанархеолъжалкохолистичен пунш на желанията". Ако не ти е минал през ръцете - действай! :D

Тя самата приказка си ме дърпаше. :)

Във филма помня колко се разочаровах от двуизмерно-холивудския Гморк – не като визия, а като мотивация... Филм да разочарова лапенце на 10! Ужас! :D

„Пунша“ го четох преди няколко години и не ме хвана толкоз. (Може би от годините.) Но се накефих на природопазещата нишка в него... Енде умее да зариби децата. ;)

"Приказка без край" е наистина страхотна и доста подценявана книга. За мен слабост е може би известната неконсистентност на описания свят и пренаселеността с чудновати, полу - или изцяло митологични същества.

Подценявана от кого? :) Аз почти не познавам хора, които да са я чели – и да не им е харесала.

А Фантазия за мен е пример именно на неизчерпаемото въображение: това, което не можеш да вместиш в една или няколко карти в началото на книгата :D и което не подлежи на систематизиране – понеже зад следващия завой или рид се крие нещо напълно неописуемо, за което никакъв прежен опит не може да ни подготви... Затова и не бих търсил консистентност в нея.

Повече по тая тема разсъждавахме с една приятелка тук.

Впрочем: двама от героите на Енде току-що прехвърчаха през новата приказка за Юнаци и злодеи, която пишем в момента...

Какви неща причинява препрочитът. :-O

Хихихи...

Всичко на света един път става,
знам, един път само всичко ще се случи.
Над поле смрачено, над река и ручей
с мене всичко чезне, отминава.

vs.

Откъснатото пак ще порасте,
погубеното оживява,
откраднатото нейде още е –
отминалото не остава.

... Можете ли да отгатнете откъде е второто стихче? :D

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Закачам се с Ятото:

Вие се чувствате неразбрани? Скучни? Безвъзвратно пораснали?

Не се кахърете! Лечение има!

http://choveshkata.net/blog/?p=3352

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Едни хорца в Goodreads ме провокираха към следното:

The second half of the book serves to make Bastian understand the meaning of the inscription on his medallion (which says "Tu was du willst" in German; I haven't read the English translation). Everything that happens to him--and boy, isn't that a progression of all our juvenile power fantasies--revolves around and evolves this theme.

Whether you like Bastian as a character or not is a question of identification. Have you ever been a bookworm? An escapist? The extent to which you can empathize with these qualities determines your acceptance of, respectively annoyance with Bastian.

In my case, the first half of the book taught me about the role and infinite possibilities of imagination, and the second half, about bringing imagination back into the real world, much despised and even feared at the time. I was nine then. :)

The movies, beautiful as they are, preserve very little of the spirit of the book. Compare the final conversation between Atreyu and Gmork. The film version is a Hollywoodesque cliche along the axis of "good and evil"; the one in the book is ... well, I can't properly summarize it. If I could, it wouldn't have been so powerful. ;)

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Като продължение към горното:

(...) Tu was du willst значи „прави това, което желаеш", грубо - "do what you want". Надявам се в контекста на книгата, която все още не съм чела, това да има смисъл. :)

(...) Всъщност, както бях писал и в оня коментар, половината „Приказка без край“ се занимава с въпроса „Кое е онова, което желаеш – наистина?“. Съответно на английски може да бъде и Do what you will, с едно по-старинно значение на will, което съхранява нюанса на волята (като нещо по-дълбоко от мимолетното желание).