Borges finzioni ebook

And the ideas as the perspectives employed have taken me to all kinds of spiritual and philosophical depths while entertaining me with high efficiency. How often have I come across an evocation of news from this collection? I cannot say! Probably as often as on invocations of Aesop's Fables or Andersen's Tales! A reader needs to know certain precise information, to grasp the meaning of what expressing and the impression that must emanate from it, and it is to the word that Borges always delivers the right measure to him.

It is possible that the message does not get through to some, but every chance will have been made available to it to keep its attention and interest to their maximum levels. Yes, for me, Borges writes what he wants, with uncompromising elegance.

They have become essentials in the history of Western thought, and he will have had the chance to know it during his lifetime. What a beautiful collection of philosophical novels! View 2 comments. There is no logically understanding the mazes Borges creates, but that is what fantastical-realism is all about.

Ficciones is a labyrinth, beautiful and witty, of ideas and feelings that mock and conquers the reader. Borges can speak for himself, who am I to explain his brilliance and imagination?

All men felt themselves to be the masters of an intact and secret treasure. There was no personal or world problem whose eloquent solution did not exist in some hexagon.

The universe was justified, the universe suddenly usurped the unlimited dimensions of hope. At that time a great deal was said about the Vindications: books of apology and prophecy which vindicated for all time the acts of every man in the universe and retained prodigious arcana for his future. Thousands of the greedy abandoned their sweet native hexagons and rushed up the stairways, urged on by the vain intention of finding their Vindication.

These pilgrims disputed in the narrow corridors, proffered dark curses, strangled each other on the divine stairways, flung the deceptive books into the air shafts, met their death cast down in a similar fashion by the inhabitants of remote regions.

Others went mad The Vindications exist I have seen two which refer to persons of the future, to persons who are perhaps not imaginary but the searchers did not remember that the possibility of a man's finding his Vindication, or some treacherous variation thereof, can be computed as zero.

View all 15 comments. Jul 28, Morgan rated it it was ok. Ok, I'd tried to read Labyrinths years ago and found it dry and dull. I thought that perhaps I just wasn't in the proper state of mind, or perhaps wasn't well read enough to get it. I'd also come off of a Calvino kick, so Borges felt boring. Fast forward to me thinking that I really should commit to Borges and give him a real chance.

I have to say that hard a hard time with this book. I only really like one story The Babylonian Lottery. Most of the time I feel like I'm stuck as some shitty academic after-party listening to the drunken rambling of a self-indulgent lit professor trying to make himself believe that he is the smartest guy in the room. I get the references, but most of this just isn't that interesting. It all comes across as clinical, with a tone of little Jack Horner self satisfaction staring at his thumb saying "What a good boy am I.

He had an experience the likes of which you will never have. Jews are mysterious. He solved a puzzle that he created for himself and figured out that he is Shakespeare and everyone wrote Henry V for it has always existed.

There is a long history of naming a thing, but in reality everything is the same. Perhaps he was in a sanitarium with black circling walls. But, I later found out that he may not have been. View all 21 comments. Mar 22, Steve rated it really liked it. Comprehension somehow boosts us to a higher plane. The ultimate in advancement, if it can be imagined, is the universal infinitude of all experience. And the more grounded me answers, yes. However, I contend that Borges himself, if asked, might have said the same thing though surely more artfully.

For him, I think, it was the mind-bending absurdity of the questions he posed rather than some metaphysical and unattainable truth of the matter that excited him. If we take as a given that time is infinite, then every possible set of realities would have a chance to play out.

If in one iteration I typed an O here, I could in another type an X, with all else being the same. Every single permutation imaginable could occur as each Big Bang and collapse in infinite time came to fruition. Imagine the implications! Borges did, at least in a way. In one story he imagined a near infinite library containing books with every possible letter combination.

In such a place, a man could conceivably find the story of his life, though practically speaking, and without Google, it would be damned difficult. Borges also considered a single book that could contain all knowledge, made possible by pages that were infinitesimally thin. To Borges, a labyrinth is a similar metaphor of life. Each person has a complex set of turns in a ridiculously intricate path that I think represents every decision we face — right, left, X, O, date, dump — whatever.

For instance, his philological references exposed me for the literary dilettante that I am. He could also come across as a bit too academic for my taste, and at times even tedious. I will not challenge its status as a classic, though. In fact, I truly enjoyed the quasi-logical extremes he went to in pursuit of intellectual entertainment, imaginative possibilities and hard won ah-ha moments.

View all 61 comments. Jun 29, David rated it it was amazing. The peer pressure from my intellectually superior friends finally shamed me into reading this as I had no Borges under my belt. Obviously from the 5 stars, I'm glad I caved in. This is a collection of 17 of his "best" short stories, held together merely by the thread that they are like nothing else you've ever read or even thought about.

Not every story is perfection, but all are surprising, irritating, challenging and somehow rewarding. Standouts are "Pierre Menard, Author of Don Quixote" - a The peer pressure from my intellectually superior friends finally shamed me into reading this as I had no Borges under my belt.

Standouts are "Pierre Menard, Author of Don Quixote" - a man who dedicates much of his life to the recreation of Don Quixote word for word, a stunningly insightful satire. Also, "The Circular Ruins" which challenges the reality of religion and even self-awareness. Borges uses very direct, sparse but extremely detailed language. His characters are full baked from the beginning, so he wastes no time on development - it's all about the idea, the innovation, not the plot.

If you read one of these tales out of context you might mistake it for a non-fictional essay, albeit with quirks. Anyway, I'm recommending this to anyone who doesn't mind risking confusion and discomfort in the the pursuit of something truly unique and intellectually delicious.

A dream within a dream It was a fascinating first-acquaintance with Borges, an author who has been staying with me for a long time, a house-ghost, a little of this and a little of that, a glimpse into my subconscious and all legends and myths in one place. Cleverly wrought essays on Swedish scholars and secret societies planting false information and a lot of babble — I clearly get the impression that Borges never minded hearing himself speak, and being spoken of.

The best short stories are the A dream within a dream It was a fascinating first-acquaintance with Borges, an author who has been staying with me for a long time, a house-ghost, a little of this and a little of that, a glimpse into my subconscious and all legends and myths in one place.

The best short stories are the ones set free of time and space, stories that easily could weave into each other if they were allowed to, they are dreamlike labyrinths of the mind. Rounded up to 4 stars. View all 5 comments. My copy of Ficciones arrives on June 11th through the letterbox. It is raining, and the light is silvery in the house. This is a photograph of my parcel the way I found it. Perhaps, the Sellotape came away of its own accord. Perhaps, someone opened it, hoping for something worth more than a book; its general shape could have been a DVD or a video game.

In any case, I consider a fictional sc 94th book of In any case, I consider a fictional scenario where the box arrives empty.

That my copy of Ficciones had been stolen on its way to me. His name is George — he is somewhere between twenty and thirty years old.

He has never heard of Jorge Luis Borges; he is not a thief, nor does he consider himself to be one. Fate means little to him and nor does chance, for now. Though, principally, the reason he decided to steal the book from the parcel he was hoping for a new video game or Blu-ray to sell on was because Jorge was very close to his own name.

This does not occur to him as being anything to do with Fate. At best, it is a coincidence. Later that night, he lies down in bed beside his girlfriend and wonders who he has stolen the book from. He imagines someone his own age I am younger than George , a professor of some sort untrue , a man who reads books that George would never himself decide to read probably true.

He had smuggled the book under his coat and slid it into his bedside table at home along with tissues, crinkly likes leaves, condoms, mints, and other random tack that belonged nowhere else. Presently, he imagines me with steel-rimmed glasses, clumsy-footed, maybe married, he cannot decide, but above all, rather irritated by his missing book. Only the latter of these imaginings are true. George falls asleep creating me in his mind. Elsewhere, I am falling asleep, creating George in my own mind.

We are two spiders spinning our own respective webs, unaware that we are in the same corner, and our threads are tangling. The rain continues for several days. I ring the Post Office a number of times about my missing parcel, or rather, the book missing from my parcel, but the lady on the phone is uninterested. I call a final time, hoping to catch a more cooperative answerer, but it is only her again, droning into the phone. I give up. George is across town, watching his girlfriend get dressed for the day, scratching his head, itching to open the book in his bedside table.

My book. She leaves. He has the day off. George makes himself a cup of instant coffee, sits down at the kitchen table, and he begins reading Ficciones.

The reading is heavy, but George persists. It is unlike anything he has ever read before. Steam rises from his mug in front of the book, obscuring some words, spinning others through a haze. Meanwhile, I watch the rain and wonder about my book. I have other things to keep me company; I read Sebald.

I make a cup of coffee, and unknowingly, George and I sit drinking coffee at the same time. To be dreamed by another. He puts it aside, looking at it as if it were some unpredictable animal. He runs from the station, down the road, into the next, he keeps running until he is sure I cannot catch him.

Of course, my body travels so far, but my mind travels further — he knows this. In his office he slips Ficciones into his desk drawer and wishes he could lock it. He continually has the sensation that I am stood behind him, that my hand is reaching over his shoulder, prising at the drawer.

By this point, I have bought a new copy of Ficciones , and read it with thoughts of George in the back of my mind. On June 22nd, I receive a letter. The handwriting is unfamiliar to me, and so is the name of the sender. It is long and meandering, and I cannot work out what it is all about. These facts mean nothing to me, nor do they correlate to one another. In the conclusion of the letter it informs me that a certain man named George, who lives in my town of W. It is signed without a surname, only the forename: Louis.

Of course, I cannot fathom a number of things. Who is Louis? How does he know my address? And above all, how is the imaginary man I invented as the book thief, now real, living, and across town? The house is another Victorian terrace like my own. White bay windows, dark tea coloured walls. He lets me in. We, as if old friends, discuss the book over coffee. So, at his kitchen table, we sit side by side and read "The South. Awkwardly, at the door, I tell him that I thought I imagined him, until a random man sent me a letter saying where he lived.

This distresses George. He also received a letter from a Louis, saying that the man he had stolen the book from was very much real, and not how he had imagined. The end of the letter told him that his address had been leaked. We are both aware of how Borges-like our days have become. I put my coat on and stand on the porch.

I tell him that I am not sure if I existed before I bought the book. Before that is certainly hazy. Neither of us know who Louis is, either.

Back at home, I open my new copy and find it has changed. It is the same book, but inside is a story about a character named George, who steals a book, written by a writer named Louis.

Across town, George is investigating his own changed copy of Ficciones. His is now about a character called Matthew who has a book stolen from him, also written by a Louis. Both men are satisfied, for they believe that the other does not exist, and that they do.

View all 17 comments. Shelves: read-in Presumptuous of me to think I would. I was also deceived by the apparent simplicity of the tales which turned out to be complex, condensed and thought provoking meditations about philosophical and existential issues. It seems this proved to be too much of a strenuous task for my ignorant self.

Later, after the man accomplishes his goal, much to my astonishment, he discovers that he in turn is being dreamt by someone else. The tittle, which also notes the mythical temple where the man appears out of nowhere maybe time travel? Like the act of this neverending regression of dreaming and creating process presented in the story.

We are introduced to a Library whose cataloguing system consists of hexagonal and identical galleries to classify the infinite books it contains. The inhabitants of this Library know the answers to all their questions lay somewhere, among the books, although the probability of being able to find those answers is close to impossible. The central conflict of the individual intellect and the physical manifestation of the infinite chaos is portrayed with negative connotations, pointing out the futility of trying to establish order in a chaotic universe, which reminds me of the insignificance of human beings.

Here again there seems to appear the issue of trying to put order in a fragmented, indecipherable universe ruled by randomness. I even feel strongly attracted to the notion that reality can be seen as a mere convention and that the true nature of things is vacuous, existing only in conditional relationship with other things.

It is language which ultimately creates illusion and builds meanings. And it is the dreamer who creates reality as the writer creates the possibility of a reader. It might not be very orthodox, but these three stars are meant to be a rating referred to my own inadequacy to truly enjoy this novel rather than directed to the novel itself, which I am not that fool to recognize as a genuine, exceptional work of art.

Oh boy! It appealed more to my engineering brain than the literary. Short stories were a puzzle of metaphors and verbs. It was a stop and study approach in between consulting the dictionary and Google. I tried to make sense, than, I just left it all to my imagination and enjoyed Borges' brilliance. It was a bewildering journey but an absolutely fascinating one. It took 9 days to read less than pages. View all 4 comments. His short stories with his labyrinthine themes and language have been explored and analyzed to the point that he has been named one of the pioneers of post-modernist fiction.

His fabulistic stories with strange fictional realms and complex social systems and unusual metaphors had a significant influence on the Latin American magical realism movement.

Ficciones is a collection of short stories, and is considered to be his most popular anthology. Some of his best known and most influential works are in this collection. The book is divided into two parts: the first part, The Garden of Forking Paths , contains eight stories and the second part, Artifices , contains nine. The stories explore many themes of existentialism, creationist philosophy, fantastical realms and universes governed by strange theological and sociological systems, satirical reviews of fictional works and many more such unusual works of fiction.

Highly recommended if you're into philosophical fiction. Feb 08, PGR Nair rated it it was amazing. Note: This is an article I wrote in to mark the th birth Anniversary of Borges. Therefore, some of the stories I cite here may not belong to this collection. I thought to post it here as this book is the most cited. If you plan to buy a book of Borges, buy this one or Labyrinth and other stories as both contain the same set of stories and translators.

Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which mangles me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.

The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges. During his life, Borges wore many hats.

He was, variously, a poet, an essayist, a short-story writer, a librarian, and, for a short time, a poultry inspector. As a hauntingly original essayist and short story writer, his three or four dozen short stories and essays is mentioned in the same breath with the tomes of Thomas Mann or James Joyce. Rosalba Campra Contributor. Roberto Roseano Goodreads Author ,.

Giacomo Bollini ,. Enea De Alberti ,. Monica Gasparotto Battaglia. Paolo Volpato ,. Antonio Mucelli. Antonio Mucelli ,. To add more books, click here. Title, La Biblioteca di Babele. Conversely, for many of the texts, some language could be devised that would make it readable with any of a vast number of different contents. Advances in protein chemistry. That entire book was, in turn, ls within his much-reprinted Ficciones Two English-language translations appeared approximately simultaneously inone by James E.

Additionally, each protein sequence is surrounded by a set of neighbors point mutants that are likely to have at least some function. The same would be true of protein sequences if borgez were not for natural selection, which has picked out only protein sequences that make sense.

Anything one might write la biblioteca di babele of course already exist. The totality of such variations would form a Bibliotrca Library of astronomical size. The totality of such variations would form a Total Library of astronomical biblioreca. The same would be true of protein sequences if it were not for natural selection, which has picked out only protein sequences that make sense. Certain examples that Aristotle attributes to Democritus and Leucippus clearly prefigure it, ka its belated inventor la biblioteca di babele Bibliotca Theodor Fechnerand its first exponent, Kurd Lasswitz.

Lasswitz urges mankind to construct that inhuman library, which chance would organize and which would eliminate intelligence.

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