maxman 100 mg tablet Aptallar için
maxman 100 mg tablet Aptallar için
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The text operates with an abundance of motifs and themes and cleverly connects them, thus creating an exciting narrative puzzle: The founder of the (fictional) Deuter Center, a former Wehrmacht general, became a successful entrepreneur in postwar Germany, rich and lauded by politicians, his signature product being a white color with extreme opacity (kişi you cover up your war crimes in the name of white supremacy by inventing an opaque white color? And btw: There really is a well-known German company named Deuter, and they produce backpacks, so you can, you know, carry around your baggage - Hari Kunzru, evil genius).
He accepts a fellowship in Wannsee, Berlin to work on his new book about poetry. He does hamiş realize the offer requires him to interact with the other attendees and write in a shared space. He does not feel comfortable working while “being watched.”
It's so unabashedly intellectual. It doesn't spell it out. It doesn't care if I don't understand everything, or if I draw the wrong conclusions about what the book is supposed to mean. It's the kind of novel that deserves a slow read, and after that a slower re-read.
The main character feels in this first part very, very self aware and rather whiny, like he goes on about the impossibility of working in a room with others (I am writer who won a prestigious fellowship, surely I don’t need to be surveyed) and overall he struck me as a bit depressed.
He does not feel safe in the world and worries he cannot protect his family. He begins to question reality.
He wasn't their boss or a threatening guy, yet, not one of these learned individuals was capable of calling him out. His behaviour, kakım far as I remember, doesn't even get reported (which it should be given that he says inappropriate things, and actively works against the Center's ideology). Speaking of the Center, that felt very much felt like 'bait'. It seems that it will play some sort of role in the novel but it is totally sidelined in favour of our narrator spiralling out of control.
Kakım I stand here at the kitchen devamını oku counter and kaş out food for the party, I try to fill a bowl with olives normally. I try to open a package of crackers normally, to arrange a cheeseboard in the way a olağan person should arrange a cheeseboard, without excessive precision or showiness, presenting the cheese according to some ordinary aesthetic standard, with the right level of care, neither too much nor too little, unwrapping the cheeses – a wheel of Brie, a wedge of Manchego, one Daha fazla bilgi of those expensive little goat cheeses that come wrapped in a vine leaf – just bey a olağan host would, someone for whom the meaning of these actions could never be in question.
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Unwilling to work or eat in the common/public spaces, the narrator takes to binge-watching a US crime series “Blue Lives”, a mix of brutality between corrupt police and criminal gangs, interleaved with occasional philosophical quotes.
The premises Kunzru describes in the context of the Deuter Center are actually those of the American Academy where the author spent some time; it is located at the Wannsee, so where the Wannsee conference was held and Reinhard Heydrich proposed the "bitiş solution to the Jewish question" - history is haunting the people we meet in this story (the GDR and its system of surveillance and oppression also plays a pivotal role).
But that's it. He doesn't try to think why viewers of this show condone this kind of vigilante sort of justice. Kunzru katışıksız one quick scene in a kebab shop in which he attempts to unpack the psychology of people like Anton, but he does it in such a harried and obvious way (Anton telling our protagonist why daha fazla bilgi al his friends dislike immigrants and non-Western cultural influences), to which our inept narrator responds "fuck you".
I really don’t know what to make of it all. I guess the premise and parts of the first act were mildly compelling. I enjoyed finding out about Kleist and I thought Kunzru would explore the tantalising mystery of why the institute was spying on its guests, but he doesn’t. Other than that, I was mostly bored with what I was reading. The maid’s Stasi past was dull, the way all these divergent narratives came together was sloppy and contrived, and the entire characterisation of Anton, the Blue Lives creator, was bafflingly silly from start to finish.
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Insofar bey he is remembered at all, Maistre is usually thought of kakım a footnote to the intellectual history of the eighteenth century, a rigid medieval mind shocked to find itself in the Age of Reason.