Just as the Nicaraguan Ruben Dario revitalized Spanish poetry in the nineteenth century, so Borges renovated the prose idiom of the Spanish language. As with any writer as productive as Borges there have been ups and downs of critical success. Fortunately, Borges has forsaken his flirtation with Rudyard Kipling and has returned to his stock of doubles, Platonic archetypes, mirrors, dreams, repeating patterns across time, and literary works-within-works in The Book of Sand.
The Book of Sand translated from the Spanish by Jorge Luis Borges …thy rope of sands… George Herbert 1 Lines consist of an infinite number of points; planes an infinite number of lines; volumes an infinite number of planes, hypervolumes an infinite number of volumes… No, this, this more geometrico, is definitely not the best way to begin my tale.
I live alone, in a fourth-floor apartment on Calle Belgrano. One evening a few months ago, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and in walked someone I had never met before. He was a tall man, of indistinct features. My myopia perhaps made me see him that way.
Everything about him spoke of an honest poverty. He was dressed in grey and carried a grey valise. I sensed immediately that he was a foreigner. Over the course of our conversation, which would last no longer than an hour, I learnt that he hailed from the Orkneys.
I showed him his seat. The man paused a moment before speaking. He exuded a melancholy air, as do I now.
Not without pedantry I responded: I can show you a sacred book that might interest you. I aquired it in the outskirts of Bikanir. It was a clothbound octavo volume which had undoubtedly passed through many hands.
I examined the book; its unexpected heft surprised me. On the spine was printed Holy Writ and below that Bombay. I opened it at random.
The characters were unfamiliar. The pages, which appeared to me worn and of poor typographic quality, were printed in two columns like a Bible. The text was cramped and arranged in versicles. In the upper corner of each page were Arabic numerals.
I turned the page; the overleaf bore an eight-digit number.
Also printed was a small illustration, like those in dictionaries: It was then that the stranger told me: You will never see it again.
I took note of the page and shut the volume. I reopened it immediately. In vain I searched for the figure of the anchor, page after page.
To hide my discomfort, I said to him: Then he lowered his voice as if entrusting me with a secret: I suspect that he saw the Book of Books as an amulet.
He told me that his book is called the Book of Sand because neither the book nor sand possess a beginning or an end. I placed my left hand on the cover and opened the book with my thumb and forefinger almost touching.
All my efforts were useless:to read. I suspect that he saw the Book of Books as an amulet.
He was of the lowest caste; people weren’t able to step on his shadow without contamination. He told me that his book is called the Book of Sand because neither the book nor sand possess a beginning or an .
Nov 14, · The Book of Sand’s thirteen stories explicitly and implicitly avoid, even disclaim novelty. In “The Congress” the aging narrator states that “novelties—maybe because I feel that they.
"The Book of Sand and Shakespeare's Memory" is a brilliant collection of Borges' exquisite stories. Magical and gritty, beautiful and haunting -- and sadly, the last work he did. Read more. 25 people found this helpful. Helpful. Comment Report abuse. See all 16 reviews.
Write a customer kaja-net.coms: "The Book of Sand" (Spanish: El libro de arena) is a short story by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges. It has parallels to the same author's story "The Zahir" (revised ), continuing the theme of self-reference and attempting to abandon the terribly infinite.
"No- this, more geometrico, is decidedly not the best way to begin my tale." Six Quotes Brief Summary Everything you could ever want is within infinity Leading us all to have curiosity Infinity, is indeed enticing Like a car, constantly racing Never seen, infinity is mysterious.
So how fitting it is, then, that the Book of Sand ends by being lost in a vast library, harking back to the Library of Babel and its mysterious volumes, which in turn foreshadows the Book of Sand, in an endless loop befitting Borges!