sinemata

László Krasznahorkai MENGENALI seorang pengarang boleh sahaja semudah melintas ayat pertama daripada bukunya. Dan itulah yang berlaku tatkala saya melewati Satantango dan The Melancholy of Resistance oleh pengarang dari Hungary ini. "Since the passenger train connecting the icebound estates of the southern lowlands, which extend from the banks of the Tisza almost as far as the foot of the Carpathians, had, despite the garbled explanations of a haplessly stumbling guard and the promises of the stationmaster rushing nervously on and off the platform, failed to arrive ('Well, squire, it seems to have disappeared into thin air again ...' the guard shrugged, pulling a sour face), the only two servicable old wooden-seated coaches maintained for just such an 'emergency' were coupled to an obsolete and unreliable 424, used only as a last resort, and put to work, albeit a good hour and a half late, according to a timetable to which they were not bound and which was