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Has anyone read Sadegh Hedayat's "The Blind Owl"? I finished this short book in about two hours, but it has left an impression upon me for days...
I feel as if the character has crawled into my mind, and I feel his despair. It is as if the morning glory vines he describes have crept over me and carpeted my soul, sending me down into the earth to decompose and disappear. I felt lost after reading it.
I felt torn between the beautiful dreamlike quality of it that I loved, and the disgust I felt for the sickness of the character's mind. It is supposed to be one of the most important work's of 'modern Iranian literature', and was written in the 50's. The character goes over and over the same symbology in his life, reinterpreting it in vastly different ways...The woman he sees, his wife, her dead body, morning glory vines, an old nearly toothless man in a turban, a bottle of poisoned wine...a ruined city, the butcher, the odds-and-ends man... *shudders* Hedayat's writing is alot like Edgar Allen Poe. *I see tortured souls*.
The surrealism is frightening at times, and at others, sublime. Through it all, the character seems to be loosing his mind rapidly. The book is primarily dark and foreboding, full of tempests of the mind, and dust devils rising up in the psyche.
Has anyone else read this book? What does it mean to you? I have a love/hate relationship with it... so, for now, I am going to read something light like Bradley Trevor Grieve's "The Blue Day Book".
I read Gustaf Sobin's "The Fly-Truffler", which seems eerily to coincide with the thread of the story in "The Blind Owl", and yet it is more bittersweet in my mouth. Reading "The Blind Owl", I feel as if I am in a coffin, and my mouth is full of the metallic taste of dirt.
"The Blind Owl" is haunting my soul. Or maybe it was just a bad time to read it, days before my birthday, when I'd be having existential questions myself. Who knows? At any rate, the book seems to just grab hold of you and possess you. I want it to let go, I think.
My mind is made up...not like my bed, which is a mess.