Read Польові дослідження з українського сексу by Oksana Zabuzhko Oksana Zabuzhko Online

Польові дослідження з українського сексу

Сексуальна одіссея художника й поетеси, розгортаючись в Україні й Америці кінця ХХ сторіччя, обертається правдивою середньовічною містерією, в якій героїня проходить кругами недавньої української історії, щоб зустрітися віч-на-віч із Дияволом....

Title : Польові дослідження з українського сексу
Author :
Rating :
ISBN : 20757822
Format Type : e-Book
Number of Pages : 503 Pages
Status : Available For Download
Last checked : 21 Minutes ago!

Польові дослідження з українського сексу Reviews

  • Antonomasia
    2018-10-09 11:35

    The first full-five-star book I've read in 2016: a breakneck ride through twentieth-century Ukrainian history, the experience of writing in a neglected language, and a tortured relationship between two tortured Ukrainian artists in America, told in spectacular twisty-turny extended-sentence prose by a brilliant author and poet that more of you GR experimental fans should be reading. Don't just unbury books, stop good ones getting buried in the first place! Which I've been wanting to say in a review for a couple of years, ever since someone on a forum recommended The Museum of Abandoned Secrets as one of the best things she'd read for a long time; I was blown away by the opening chapters, but 700pp+ tomes are not my forte as they are some of yours, and besides I wanted a better background in Russian lit before tackling the full thing. (If you're one of those who never looks beyond friend reviews, please read this anyway.) Particular potential for burying exists because most of Zabuzhko's English translations* are published by AmazonCrossing. Complete Review fans will probably know that AmazonCrossing is now North America's biggest publisher of translated literature. Whilst some of their genre / popular stuff has found a sizeable audience, the few more literary and experimental texts have been starved of the oxygen of publicity, unmentioned in the blogs, lit journals and broadsheet reviews that cover works issued by respected, ethically unambiguous independent publishers, making sure at least some of the right readers are aware of them, and that they aren't consigned to low-star ratings from randomly-selected Vine members who never liked this sort of fiction in the first place, and drive-by Kindle Unlimited subscribers who took a punt on it. (A recent exception, which suggests things are changing a little for newly translated AmazonCrossing works, is South Korean novella Nowhere to Be Found which was longlisted for the U.S PEN translation Prize and has been talked about on a couple of blogs.) Zabuzhko is a fantastic writer who, although lauded in Continental Europe with the Angelus Prize, should have as much respect and attention in English. Fieldwork in Ukrainian Sex is a narrative conscious of its own psychology, and I'm tempted to connect this probably financially rewarding, but otherwise unfortunate choice of publisher in the current global lingua franca with a compulsion to enact the following: even if you did, by some miracle, produce something in this language “knocking out Goethe’s Faust,” as one well-known literary critic by the name of Joseph Stalin would put it, then it would only lie around the libraries unread ... for who knows how many dozens of years until it began “cooling off"...if the stream of public attention doesn’t pick them up in time and carry them to the surface, they sink like stones to the bottom and become covered by mineral waxes that can never be scraped off, just like your unsold books which gather dust somewhere at home and in bookstores, this same thing has happened with most of Ukrainian literature.Presciently - in fact talking of something else, she says there was even a response in—wow!—the Times Literary Supplement - but TLS mentions of Zabuzhko, including a write-up of this book, are paywalled and thus less influential than the lone [one-star] Amazon UK review.I was tired of waiting for myself to get round to Museum of Abandoned Secrets and, in finishing it, finally earn the licence to harangue you about it; I was tired of waiting for the optimal time to try Kindle Unlimited for a month or two so I could read the much shorter Fieldwork inclusive with that. But fuck paying £7.99 for not very much of interest and timing things right, £1.98 for this book alone made a lot of sense: that's the right price from the reader/consumer viewpoint for a sub-200 page ebook you may only read once. Yes, I'd have rather paid a non-Amazon retailer the same, and yes I've heard the arguments in favour of novellas being as pricey as doorstops, but I think publishers, even those of stuff you love, should be a long way down the list of charity concerns after more urgent needs.This is a ranting, angry, digressive book, so why not shoehorn a couple of paragraphs of my own rant in too?Zabuzhko's volleys of anger are set apart from a hundred other rage-fuelled, more-or-less feminist fictionalised rants by the magnitude of her intellectual force and wit, and her (and her translator Halyna Hryn's) verbal dexterity. I rarely go in for this sort of very womany angry book, that swampiness that scares some people as if there were going to be a gorgon's head, not mere paper pages, between the covers. No gender has a monopoly on writing the fucked-up relationship story anyway; my favourite example is Alfred de Musset's [likewise under-read and brilliant] Confession of a Child of the Century. Zabuzhko's ranting is brilliant ranting of any type, and the quality of writing deserves to win out over any minor reservations over the topic. And personally, I'm somewhat more comfortable with feminist novels from other cultures because I don't feel as if their generalisations imply I had negative experiences I never actually did, unlike the Anglo-American texts that have alienated and annoyed me. Fieldwork's semi-autobiographical narrative opens in a scuzzy kitchen, with decaying detail and violent metaphor that recalls the flats inhabited by The Young Ones or Withnail, boys who always had more interesting things to do than housework: the units' tacked-on doors determined to open every time you turn your back like a loose jaw on a paralyzed face… both plants have the appearance of having been watered with sulfuric acid for the last three weeks. It's hard to say the unsaid these days, but I kept seeing it in this twenty-year-old novella, even when she surveys the cooking: these chickens always look much happier than live ones, simply radiating a deep blush of pleasure at the prospect of being eaten. This blistering sarcasm creates glamour from its very absence: in fact the possibilities are endless, but you just need one thing—for there to be someone sitting on the other side of their fucking counter, in which, incidentally, a colony of ants seems to have made a home, because every once in a while you’ve got something crawling around on the Formica that really doesn’t belong in a hygienic American home, nor in a non-American one, come to think of it—someone to whom you could serve all this good stuff as you smile your cover-girl smile. Those first few pages introduced me to a rhythm that would become familiar through the book: I would feel as if in the company of a kindred spirit, as if in reading, I was also speaking paragraphs I wish I could have written; then appear a some new facet of the narrator's mental torment or relationship dysfunction and her downright dreadful partner, far worse than my own experience, or on some entire other spectrum full of its own pitchblack corners. Zabuzhko's narrator switches between first, second and third person as she speaks of herself, creating a stream of consciousness as comfortable as a pair of worn-in boots. Once observed, this technique is genius of a kick-oneself obviousness. To many frequent readers, or aspiring writers, of fiction, the occasional vanity thought-lapse into narrating oneself in third person is as much an ingrained part of mental activity as speaking of "I", or of exhorting oneself or generalising about self and supposed others as "you". A man as muse to a female artist - including when the relationship is stormy - is an idea that's getting more exposure now than it used to, but I've never yet seen it so well described as by Zabuzhko: every poem was a delightful bastard baby of one prince or another with a bright star on his forehead, the star, of course, inevitably went out, the poem remained. With that metaphor she makes it sound more natural than with the genders the other, stereotypical, way round.But bloody hell, what an awful man is this painter she falls for. Her reasons for being drawn to him - well beyond masturbation… will give you neither poems nor children - are understandable to those who've experienced a love affair as a primal, fated encounter with a soulmate:we became brother and sister long ago, long before we met, because it was in search of you, my love, clearly in search of you that these incomprehensibly opaque lines of poetry rushed out of me, barely catching their breath, through all the years of my chaotic youth...it would be only with someone as screwed up as herself, no, far more screwed up—in a plaster cast, with draconian debts and trails of police summonses, my sorcerer-brother, we are of the same blood you and I...this guy was digging the same grounds as I was, and the only one I’d ever known to do it ... better than me: deeper, more powerfully, and damn, just plain fearlessly... he simply floated along in the stream that I could access only occasionally.The first one ready-made—whom she did not have to teach Ukrainian...this was the first man from your world, the first with whom you could exchange not merely words, but simultaneously the entire boundlessness of shimmering secret treasure troves...he’s one of yours, yours—in everything, a beast of the same species!Such heights of intoxication often lead the lover to ignore what, in the absence of potent chemistry, would have been major reservations, but here there were more than most: from my list of highlighted quotes, the word "warn[ing]" jumps out again and again. Even to one who has ignored such things on a smaller scale, and who knows the process well, the magnitude of what can be disregarded is, at first glance astounding. (But through the author-narrator's analysis of her origins in a more sexist, more violent culture and family, she later explains it.) This story dispels another assumption, or over-generalisation, about such fiery relationships: it's very much not the case that the narrator is overwhelmed by continuous sexual desire for her paramour, it is not that wanting him physically becomes, for a time, almost synonymous with consciousness, as in many experiences and narratives of the madly-in-love. That early use of the word "brother" perhaps was telling. Though he is hardly brotherly of course, becoming hectoring and occasionally violent, and there are rows, verbally vicious on both sides, about plenty else as well as sex.I've no idea how common is the following commonality, but I was taken aback here, seeing set down in someone else's writing for the first time something said to me several times - from decent people and from rotters. I thought that by now, I'd know if men telling their girlfriends they were brave was considered a widespread phenomenon (where there is no birth involved) - but there are always conversations and rubbishy articles one can miss. “You’re a brave woman!”—and...“I see in you an ability to survive under any circumstances”, exes say to her at different times in her life.Joy and fear, America and Eastern Europe are invoked and mingled in their dealings: lovers galore, a wonderfully high-bouncing trampoline echoes Gatsby's epigraph; yet he passed through her territory like the Tatar hordes - and too often the latter, and fear, leading to a physical exhaustion - a feverish-nauseous trembling scattered over her entire body that hadn’t subsided for over a week - more draining than the typical physical overwhelm of falling in love.It's interesting to finish writing this review whilst reading Elena Ferrante's quartet: Zabuzhko is more explicit in connecting violent relationships - and automatic assumptions about reproduction that, though near in history, may be alien to the twenty-first century secular Anglo-American - to her national history and culture; Ferrante almost never generalises, simply telling her characters' story - she shows without telling - but the same principle invades their relationships as soon as they get married, as described by Zabuzhko: “take me” always means: “take me together with my childhood”.Oksana, more than the sensible Elena coolly analysing her environs, knows gothically passionate love as a literary meme that infected her: They never taught us, all our literature with its entire cult of tragic love—Ivanko and Marichka, Lukash and Mavka, my students were enthralled and declared Forest Song superior to Midsummer Night’s Dream, you bet—they somehow forgot to warn us that in reality tragedies don’t look pretty. That death, no matter what form it takes, is first and foremost an ugly business.That allusion apart, I was so taken with Zabuzhko's writing that I forgot I must be missing references to books I hadn't read, until her fellow Ukrainian Bulgakov was invoked in a dreamlike scene near the end: the demonic assembly constituted no clear threat, rather it gave the impression of a ritual somewhat reminiscent of a Brezhnev-era party meeting and in fact treated her with a kind of friendly acceptance,...only a gigantic cat, turning into a neon-blue shadow of a cat, hopped around from pedestal to pedestal for some time still before he too went up in smokeWhilst I daresay some Ukrainians in the years between Communism and the Crimean crisis preferred not to dwell on their country's near-chronic history of living under a yoke or threat of one, stuck between the Russian bear and Europa, Zabuzhko's account of it (and mirrored in family and relationship) is anything but cowed, expressed with an irresistible vigour:and what is there in Ukraine, Ukraine is Chronos chomping away at his children, tiny fingers and toes, I’m supposed to sit and wait for what, to suck a frog’s tit, or rather that of a menopausal diaspora gramps—the Antonovych prize?...Eastern fatalism, oh yes—the Russians have it; we’re in worse shape, we, actually, are neither here nor there, Europe has managed to infect us with the raving fever of individual desire, faith in our personal “Yes I can!”—however, we never developed a foundation for such faith, those structures that might support that “I can!” and thus have tussled about for ages at the bottom of history. The lucky Americans she meets on her 90s writer-in-residencies (although they probably manage to allude to race with more tact than this denizen of a very white country that previously had little contact with culture outside the Eastern Bloc) are unfamiliar with subjugation to limitless, metaphysical evil, where there’s absolutely nothing in hell you can do—when you grow up in a flat that is constantly bugged and surveilled and you know about it, so you learn to speak directly to an invisible audience: at times out loud, at times with gestures, and at times by saying nothing, or when the object of your first girlish infatuation turns out to be a fellow assigned to spy on you. In four years of owning this Kindle, I'd never before encountered the message "you have reached the clipping limit for this item". That's how much I liked and wanted to quote this book. And that's why I don't have quotes from late in the book, where the author-narrator's father appears, a brutalised former prisoner (like his father before him), a man who tries to be reasonable, but has dodgy physical boundaries that have the effect of sexual abuse even if they don't fit its legal definitions. And... well - Ukraine - boundaries... obvious. The narrator, in her early thirties at the time of her emotionally destructive yet artistically inspiring relationship, evidently sees herself as an adult who did something stupid in which history had its role, like an addict who has now quit; she has too much strength and insight to be just a victim (if and when I get round to her later books, it'll be interesting to see how her themes developed in the ensuing years) but it was hard not to see this girl, another Ukrainian in the states, for less edifying reasons, as emblematic: a very young, scarcely eighteen-year-old prostitute with flowing chestnut-colored hair, attractive in that puppy-wet, bright, untarnished folk-song beauty that you can still find among girls in Volyhnia and Podillia—and the poor thing, dead drunk:… “She’s still a child and has no idea what’s happening to her”The premise underlying this book sounds potentially defeatist (especially with the country continuing to wrestle its demons, but there is such strength and skill in the writing, that it feels anything but. I found it positively invigorating, because surely there is hope if one can express oneself as Zabuzhko does.*A Kingdom Of Fallen Statues, essay and poetry collection, appears only to be available in a handful of American university libraries, and Amazon are scheduled to publish a book of Zabuzhko's short stories, Oh Sister, My Sister, in 2017. There are also bits and pieces in anthologies, which she alludes to in Fieldwork.Indebted to two recent LRB reviews by Jenny Turner, when I was flailing about for inspiration on how to write about raw, personal books without getting enmired in lengthy comparisons with one's own experience. Didn't manage it quite so smoothly, but they helped.

  • Sofia
    2018-09-19 11:29

    I'm stalled - I seem to have lost my desire to loose myself in her words.She is sarcastic, sharp and unfortunately rambling in her tug of war, with the love and hate she feels for her country, her man, her life. It was one of those times that I kept looking forward to a full stop or oh yes the end of a paragraph. What kept me reading was the flashes of insight which I cherished and wanted more of.stopped at 50%half a BR with Ira

  • Jen
    2018-09-27 11:40

    This book is amazing. It took a little bit to get into. I struggled in the first 50 pages. You can not skim this book. Don't even try. The prose style is rather unforgiving, but that really is the point. The point is to chew it. To go slowly. To go back and forth over sentences and phrases. This is a painful, occasionally hard to follow narrative of the grotesque end of a love affair punctuated with small and devastatingly perceptive mini-treatises on writing, art, trust in other humans, the state of being a writer trapped in a native language that no one speaks, the state (as Zabuzhko describes it) of being trapped between non-existence and an existence that kills you. In another review, someone else wrote "Мабуть цю книжку було варто читати років 10 назад - бо зараз, не про українців ця книжка - я не знаю таких українців, як в цій книжці." Oh, but I do. I know all of them. They are all people I have met. They are all people I recognized from my life in Ukraine. They are all people I recognize from my life in the US. They are all people I recognize in myself. I think I won't be satisfied until I read this at least 2 more times.

  • Victoria Moroz
    2018-10-09 13:34

    Не дочитала.Навіщо вона пише такою складною мовою? Навіщо писати так, щоб через книгу треба було продиратися? Це ж не українська. І речення в сторінку довжиною - це що, нормально?І оцей стиль я взагалі не розумію, коли шматками усе. Вона про одного чоловіка пише чи про декількох? І що в неї за проблеми із сексом? Нічого не зрозуміло...

  • Sarah
    2018-10-04 17:17

    Whoa. Full-on, but short: a ranting gallop through Ukrainian nationalism and feminism, fully realised. Quite painful throughout (and also because for a moment I wondered if it was really just a version of 50 Shades of Grey... which it definitely isn't, but let's say it's the very distant other end of the spectrum from that, but indeed on the same spectrum.) A little confusing in parts (2nd-person, 3rd-person, missing time references) but ultimately illuminating and it merits another read.I read it in Lviv, Ukraine, where Sacher-Masoch was born (he of the Masochism), and my guidebook is a bit coy about why Lvivians are proud to claim him... this book might explain that.

  • Michelle Lawrence
    2018-09-23 16:41

    This is a really dense, heavy novel. It's a sort of confessional stream-of-consciousness memoir of an romantic/abusive relationship that fell apart. There's a lot in there about the artistic process, Ukrainian culture, and human relations in general; how this relationship reflects larger Ukrainian societal and cultural patterns. This book is overbearing, and it can be too hard to follow -- it jumps around so much. There are some real gems in here, though, and the experimentation with narrative form is appreciated, but I can't recommend this to the casual reader. I'm probably the intended audience (outside of Ukrainian readers) and even I found this novel hard to like.

  • Lodyk Vovchak
    2018-10-08 14:19

    Почну з того, що потік свідомості мені ще зі школи не подобався. Ну не розумів я Уліса і все. Тому і тут не сильно вражений твором. Я в принципі розумію, що таким робом написати якусь історію ой як не легко. Але організм відмовляється подобати такий формат твору. Мабуть я не далекий поїдач літератури для мас, що ж, нема на то ради. Варта визнати деякі психологічні особливості українців показані, але здебільшого у світлі окупації в совку. На молодшому поколінні ті особливості проявляються трохи менше, тут вже йдуть трохи іншого штибу проблеми.Зазвичай я люблю передивлятися всі інтерв’ю Оксани Забужко, подобається її обізнаність з методами роботи кагебішніків, літературна ерудиція і, ділена з нею, віра в те, що наша культура не остання в Європі і в світі. Але в цьому її творі яскраво виражена її манера говорити всіма мовами нараз, це дратує в усному мовленні, а коли читаєш таке -- шляки трафляють (українська мова в її творі чудова, але я налаштувався тільки на неї). І це при тому, що з англійською в мене немає проблем і я розумію, що деякі з англомовних (про інші мови мовчу) фрагментів тяжко перекласти і в форматі потоку свідомості там пасує те, що там є. Але про потік свідомості й прозу одним реченням я вже казав: не зрозуміло!!!І ще маленька заввага, колись читав чи бачив її коментар про Валерія Шевчука, який поліз в історію родини чи щось таке. А в цьому творі авторка теж полізла в історію родини, дарма, що вона трохи схожа на багато українських доль в срср.

  • Halyna Yakubovich
    2018-10-05 16:33

    Читати цей роман -- це як викарабкуватися на Говерлу в осінній день з дрібною мжичкою. Здавалося б, що то є тих два кілометри (якихось 200 сторінок)? Але підйом важкий, довгий та нудний. Замість сонцем залитих полонин та мальовничих краєвидів -- безперервні темно-сизі краплі з неба, розведена дощем стежка під ногами. І коли ти себе, все ж пересилюючи, змушуєш добратися до вершини гори -- панорама розчаровує: пелена туману навкруги, сумбур думок, неясність. Незаперечно, в Оксани Забужко справжній талант до письма. Проте цей твір, яким би новаторсько-сміливим він не величався, мені не сподобався.

  • Yooperprof
    2018-09-26 13:40

    A brilliant Eastern European poet learns the hard way that it can be hell to be a relationship with a painter. Not a conventional novel, more a prose-poem "rant" with aspirations to be the Ukrainian "Second Sex." Zabushko riffs on Ukrainian history, men and women, and the neglible place of poetry in today's society. Perhaps more of a three star than a four star book, but it's unusual, and Amazon Crossing deserves credit for publishing a bold book in translation.

  • Oksana Uskova
    2018-09-20 12:23

    Мабуть цю книжку було варто читати років 10 назад - бо зараз, не про українців ця книжка - я не знаю таких українців, як в цій книжці. Чи то ненависть, чи то taff love до нації, але жалість та зверхність пані Забужко дещо дивують. Стосовно жіночої лінії - тут питань нема. Нелінійний хід розповіді - браво! Я зачарована. Правда.

  • Elen Tkacheva
    2018-09-26 14:30

    Woman's emotions and feelings as they are. Oksana has nothing to hide from her readers and you could be sometimes shocked by her honesty. Very bright and vivid modern Ukrainian language.

  • Helen
    2018-10-05 15:35

    Difficult to read both because of subject matter and the way it is written. But I picked it up to get a perspective on The Ukraine, which it gave me in a thought-provoking and self-assured way.

  • Julie A
    2018-09-17 17:17

    This is a tricky one to pin down... I think it can best be described as a master class in philosophy delivered in a slightly torrential form. This is one of those books that screams for big conversation because the ideas presented here are incredibly deep and conveyed extremely articulately. It's a book that really begs for a night of discussion with friends over many bottles of wine. As it is, the friends of mine who would be interested in such a discussion are all currently abroad, but it did lead to very interesting WhatsApp discussions about soul compartmentalization and language...It's not so much a book to love or hate. This isn't really a traditional narrative. Like "Museum", Zabuzhko uses her characters as vehicles to convey her ideas. The ideas are the true stars of this program.I enjoyed it very much. I really had to stop and think about what she was presenting. I've been vaguely distracted all week, trying to sort out my views on her arguments. It's hugely engrossing in that way - but this isn't a novel, or something to speed read. This is gritty and tough and absolutely requires the reader's full attention. It's demanding and insistent, and will not abide any passivity.Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, if you were ever in a situation where you needed to assess compatibility with someone, reading this together would probably be the fastest and most thorough way to do so.. A literary Pre Cana... This book is the perfect launching pad for all big discussions.

  • Oleksandr
    2018-10-07 17:33

    Жіночі студії з українським колоритом. Історія про взаємовідносини двох діячів культури є тлом для автобіографією київської дівчинки з родини інтелігенції. (view spoiler)[Мов для діяспори написано, бо терміни і місця, які не зрозуміє рядовий українець без пояснень та перекладу, і хай не розуміють, бо застарілі мов ті бабки що не розуміли жіночих пакетів; а речення в десятки рядків важко перекласти англійською для американців, хоч ситуації й зрозумілі, та й хто з американців буде читати, вони ж і дійсно великих не читають, бо в бібліотеці тільки-но три рази брали Доріс Лесінг, а вона ж не Доріс, не Платт, лише жінка з великої України, з самого Києва, а що жила при радянській владі, то не страшно, бо переживала, ох як переживала, і культуру усю знає, того ж Донцова чи Винниченка, а що була відмінницею і аспіранткою, то значить науковий комунізм здавала, й мабуть на відмінно, так страшно, залякали батьки, залякали до ненависті в їхній бік, проте боятися варто, немає нормально життя в Україні, все сіре й похмуре, відкрите до злай сліпе до страждань, вбивче й безкаране. (hide spoiler)]

  • Risa Miller
    2018-09-30 12:22

    It was really hard to grasp the flow of the writing style at first, but I really do like how it allows for Oksana to be so open with what she writes. I like how she wasn’t concerned about political-correctness, rather, the book is more comparable to a diary. I think all women can relate to parts of the book in some way or another - it’s comforting (and tragic) to know we go through it together. I don’t think I’d read it again; but the book offers great explanation to the backing behind feminist ideals, exposing them in a non in-your-face way. ‘understanding’ is a good word to go with the book.

  • Микола Бовкіт
    2018-09-17 09:43

    Якби не остання частина (~20%), то сказав би що книга до одного місця!

  • Ironman Ninetytwo
    2018-10-05 11:37

    This was lyric and beautiful. I'm not quite sure how original the allegory between personal consent and national consent was, but it was personal.

  • Lisa S
    2018-10-05 12:40

    brilliantly written and/but a very painful read

  • Олеся Венгринович
    2018-10-15 14:16

    Польові дослідження з українського сексу. Оксана ЗабужкоЦей роман невипадково став подією в українському довколалітературному середовищі - феміністичні нотки, сповідальна мова, насичена, емоційна, багата лексика, і кола найближчої історії, як відбитки особистих травм, як печаті проживання, переживання себе, сформували той неохопний емоційний заряд, який по кількох сторінках заставляє повертатись до книжки, щоби поглинути до останньої краплі, останнього слова.Коли вносила книжку в список прочитаного наштовхнулась на відгук, де якась емоційна жінка пише: «Це не про нас, це про жінок, які жили може в дев’яностих… Сьогодні це неактуально. ».Куди ж не про нас?..Про нас, про кожного, у різному відсотковому співпадіні, у різній долевій частці, про кожного вакцинованого останнім століттям, про кожного, народженого до 2000 року, а той далі, про кожного недолюбленого, скаліченого мовчанням, недомовками, нещирістю ніби-то во ім’я нашої ж безпеки.І буде про нас, аж поки важливими процесами нашої держави не почнуть керувати народжені після 2000 року.«Польові дослідження»… якщо звернутись до теорії соціології відомо, що цей метод дослідження передбачає дослідження, що ґрунтується на включеному спостереженні учасника. Такий вид дослідження передбачає збір більшої кількості інформації, більш повне (глибше, вичерпніше) уявлення про досліджуване явище, процес і т.д.То яке включене спостереження пропонує нам Оксана Забужко у своєму романі?Авторка пропонує нам сповідь головної героїні, оповідаючи історію її стосунків, залежності, співіснування з іншим митцем.Роман зачіпає величезне коло тем: українська ідентичність, сутність мистецтва, самотність, пристрасть, залежність, жіноча доля, вибір.Як і у кожній великій книжці у цьому романі є питання вибору, усвідомленого вибору. Знаючи можливі наслідки, інтуїтивно відчуваючи можливу біду і біль головна героїня свідомо і патосно аналізуючи печаті своїх круговертей і втрат, робить неправильний вибір. З яким щоразу далі погружає себе у смуток, переживання, боротьбу за право бути собою. Власне, створює собі цілу дорогу перепон одним своїм вибором.Використання у тексті безлічі англомовних слів створює ефект синхронізації з тим НЕукраїнським середовищем. Окресленням побутових та особистих тем, освіленням критеріїїв якості життя та соціальних проблем іншої країни авторка проводить риску зрівняння меншого і більшого, свідомого і підсвідомого, і незахищеності в цьому.Невеличка з виду книжка ввібрала у себе такий набір соціальних проблем, психологічних штампів, залежностей, почуття вини, обов’язку, жіночих тем/проблем, в тому числі і психо-емоційних, що важливість прочитання цієї книжки важко заперечити.І ще цей стихійний виклад, емоційним, єдиним полотном, наче сповідь, ніби потреба бути почутим, побаченим, ідентифікованим.І скільки б часу від написання книги не пройшло ця книга є і залишиться відбитком історії - образу української жінки нашого виміру.

  • Bookaholic
    2018-09-18 14:16

    „(…) ca toate feministele, ea era sigură că men are full of shit, dacă li se dă mână liberă, încep războaie, lagăre de concentrare, foamete, declin economic, se întrerupe apa caldă și curentul electric, se reduc sumele alocate universităților și atunci doctoratul trebuie să se prelungească” (p. 158).Oksana Zabușko (sau Zabuzhko) este una dintre cele mai cunoscute și apreciate scriitoare contemporane din Ucraina. Aceasta s-a născut în 1960, a studiat filosofie la Universitatea „Şevcenko“ din Kiev și a obţinut un doctorat în filosofia artei. A debutat la vârsta de 12 ani, cu un volum de poezie – carte care i-a fost publicată mult mai târziu pentru că părinții ei deveniseră indezirabili în timpul prigoanelor din Uniunea Sovietică din anii ’70. A scris poezie, proză, eseuri, critică, în total peste douăzeci de volume. În anii ’90 a ţinut cursuri în SUA ca lector Fulbright la Universităţile Penn State, Harvard şi Pittsburgh.După ce „Studii în teren despre sexul ucrainean” (Editura Art, 2008, traducere de Ovidiu Hanceriuc, 168 de pagini) a fost publicată în Ucraina, în 1996, Oksana Zabușko a căpătat din ce în ce mai multă popularitate, atât în țara sa, cât și în afara acesteia. În 2006, cartea de față a fost numită „cea mai influentă carte ucraineană din cei 15 ani de independenţă”. Ce-i drept, aceasta a fost tradusă în opt limbi, iar în Ucraina a devenit rapid un bestseller (tipărit în mai multe ediții) controversat.(...)Una peste alta, cartea Oksanei Zabușko este un volum pe care-l digeri mai greu, nu poți întoarce paginile rapid, te ține captiv mai multe zile, chiar dacă are numai 168 de pagini. Un gând de-ale naratoarei, de exemplu, poate ține câteva pagini, file în care nu ai niciun punct, iar secvențele nu sunt împărțite, convențional, în capitole – în cel mai bun caz este lăsat un rând gol. De aceea, dacă nu ții pasul cu ce se întâmplă acolo, ești nevoit să te întorci, să recitești pentru a înțelege. Asta nu înseamnă că nu vă recomand cartea, dimpotrivă, ci doar vă avertizez în legătură cu scriitura Oksanei Zabușko, pentru a vă face timp să o citiți atunci când aveți nervi și răbdare pentru asta.Aparent, este proză (nu i-aș spune chiar roman), dar, din punctul meu de vedere, este mai degrabă un fel de poem lung în proză. Scris într-un flux al conștiinței haotic, dezlânat, un fel de monolog interior aprins, volumul „Studii în teren despre sexul ucrainean” ne pune față în față cu un alter-ego al scriitoarei, numită simplu Oksana, care trece prin experiențe dure, traumatizante, se trage dintr-o țară mică, săracă și prigonită, o femeie inteligentă, cu o personalitate puternică, preocupată de literatură, scriitură și creativitate, limbă, bărbați și superioritatea acestora în fața femeilor, iubire și valențele pe care le capătă aceasta într-o lume măcinată și bântuită de trecut, postsovietică, istoria recentă a propriei țări, etc. Această femeie, expunându-și, în detaliu, dar trunchiat, gândurile și experiențele sale, nu face decât să ne atragă atenția asupra dificultății de a fi ucrainean, de a păstra vie o limbă aflată în moarte clinică, de a alege arta, creația, pentru a căpăta un strop de libertate. (continuarea cronicii: http://www.bookaholic.ro/studii-in-te...)

  • Jose Luis (Liantener)
    2018-10-01 11:23

    Un libro difícil de leer, pero muy bien escrito y que no disfruté más por cuestiones personales.El libro es una larga reflexión semi-autobiográfica, donde la autora, que es un poetisa, revisa su vida amorosa y sexual, y hace referencia a su origen ucraniano como una fuente de sus males y su forma de ser. Así que aparte de reflexión personal, resulta un vistazo a la sociedad ucraniana moderna.El estilo recuerda mucho al de Javier Marías, donde el narrador salta de una idea a otra a otra y después tiene que regresar poco a poco a la idea original. Pero mientras Marías si se las arregla para contar una historia, Zabuzhko da muchas vueltas y no avanza mucho. Lo mismo habla del presente o del pasado, sin una linea u objetivo definidos.Otro problema, este personal, es que la protagonista es el típico espíritu autodestructivo y pesimista, que culpa a su pasado o a otros de que ella tome malas decisiones. Tiene un novio que no la satisface, por el contrario, le hace daño, pero lo adora y no puede estar sin él. Ella misma reconoce que la situación es patética. Y este tipo de personas me desagradan mucho, y leer sobre sus justificaciones más.Sin embargo hay que reconocer que el lenguaje que usa es muy rico, una forma de escribir ágil, y que los poemas que incluye (la autora trabaja más poesía que prosa) es muy buena ... y eso que yo no soy muy aficionado al género.Así que entiendo porque el libro ha trascendido las fronteras de su país y ha sido tan exitoso. Lamentablemente yo lo sufrí más de lo que lo gocé por lo que se intenta narrar.

  • Bogdan Obraz
    2018-10-09 14:16

    Філософські роздуми, викладені на сторінках особливим стилем, психоаналітично-істеричним змістом, сексуально-націоналістичного характеру, вже 10 років є бестселером. Одні (переважно жінки) вважають це кращим з усіх прочитаних ними творів і допомагає їм розібратися зі своїми латентними (прихованими) страхами, інші (в основному - чоловіки) думають що це феміністичний твір, де майже немає сексуальних сцен і незалежні українці – залякані і голодні раби, яким не треба далі плодитися. Але книга нікого не залишає байдужим і висновки кожен робить сам. Мені сподобалось.

  • Tiziana
    2018-10-14 16:42

    3.5 - A hard-hitting novel about identity - as a woman and as Ukrainian. It is written in the stream-of-consciousness style, which makes it hard to read and absorb. Nevertheless, I appreciated both the themes tackled and the narrative method. It deserves an important place in feminist writing and literary fiction....Read the full review on my blog, Scrabbled Rambles.

  • Kent Winward
    2018-10-12 17:37

    This is the novel of a poet. The best part of the book also proved to be the most problematic to me, namely, the insight into another country's neurosis. On universal pain points I could relate, but I was always left with a nagging sense that the emotional response I was supposed to have wasn't quite up to snuff. Maybe gender and country gaps combined are too hard to transcend.

  • Nancy H
    2018-09-18 10:15

    I feel bad that I didn't like this book with what is happening in the Ukraine at the present time, because I feel so bad for those people whose country is in turmoil. With regard to this book, t author has a gift for description, which is good, but I just don't like books that have a lot of existential angst and whining as the main part of the plots, as this one did.

  • Mr M Roden
    2018-10-08 09:16

    Passionately upliftingLyrically written piece exploring gender politics in a world where the realpolotik of the Ukrainian nation's domination by Russia permeates the lives of everyone.

  • Chrystyna
    2018-09-27 16:23

    If you like stream of consciousness writing, this is for you. I unfortunately must have some sort of attention deficit as I couldn't continue reading. The topic is interesting, but not enough to overlook the style of writing.

  • Katie
    2018-10-04 17:23

    Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!!!!!

  • Volyana
    2018-09-26 16:42

    ... на відміну від тих, фільм, який ти все-таки неважишся вимкнутине конче має скінчитися щасливо. А однаково, вимикати - непростиме свинство. І дітвацтво: не вивчив урока - не піду до школи...

  • Rockabilly
    2018-10-11 17:32

    ось так сприймають світ фригідні жінки!(с. 126)а ті, що беруться перекладати цю книжку - це взагалі сміливі люди.