Book 100: Jorge Luis Borges

A quick glance on this blog made me realise that so far I did not pay enough attention to books - until recently, for some reason my essays were mostly focused on music where in fact, dear reader, books were my first love. Who knows why all those album reviews poured out of me so easily and I simply have not been thinking about other subjects (like my favourite poems or paintings, for example). I read much more than noted here, however not all the books deserve an essay. Sometimes it turns out pure fluff, better forgotten.

So for the book 100 here I have selected something that would be memorable (or at least so I hoped) and with some trepidation I turned to Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges whom I expected to be complicated and probably too difficult for me (guy is much beloved by small cult of true believers). However, curiosity led me there so off I went, in a world of short stories. Just like with Herman Hesse, it turned out a beautiful experience - maybe even better, because with Hesse I enjoyed writing style from a distance and with this guy I actually felt closeness and kind of spiritual connection. It sound strange, but Borges writes about all those things that usually echo around my head when I'm alone, all sorts of dreams, fears, feelings and even nightmares that visit in a moment between sleep and reality. The whole idea of short stories was a bit unusual, because he really crammed so much ideas and inspirations in these few pages that other authors would probably use them as material for the whole books - in the beginning I treated myself with a story per night but than gave up and just wallowed in them at once. There was one short story (titled "The House of Asterion") that really got me, it had only three pages and it shook me like an earthquake - it was written from a perspective of someone who is outsider, who has a mind and heart but will never be part of a group, of a human family. And it slowly downs on us that this is mythological Minotaur and that he actually welcomed death as a relief and freedom. Now, this is something I hardly ever elaborated before or bothered to explain to anybody, but the older I get, more compassion I have for all sorts of "monsters" (mythological, imaginary, in literature and movies) since each Cyclopes, each Loch Ness "Nessie" and each scary creature when looked from different perspective appears lonely planet whom everybody fears. I wont really go too deep in this, but Borges apparently understand what I mean, because he describes his Minotaur with some kindness and gives him certain sensitivity so when finally morning sun shone on Theseus bronze sword I actually felt sadness for Minotaur, because he welcomed death and waited for a world without walls. Completely unexpectedly I found a spiritual brother in Argentinian writer whom until yesterday I knew only by name. Sure, there were many complicated ideas that simply went over my head but for most of the time I just glowed in dazzling light of his genius. Each of these little stories was full of unforgettable sentences and pictures, of characters that just poured and poured out. At certain moments I felt that he reminds me on Umberto Eco and this is not just accident because Eco loves the guy and named one of the character in "The Name of the Rose" in tribute to Borges. I truly love this collection and its one of the joys of life to have been able to discover something so beautiful at this point of my life.