Nikolai Grozni
Autor de Turtle Feet
Sobre El Autor
Créditos de la imagen: Nikolai Grozni. © 2011 Jessica Langton
Obras de Nikolai Grozni
Etiquetado
Conocimiento común
- Nombre canónico
- Grozni, Nikolai
- Nombre legal
- Николай Гроздински
- Fecha de nacimiento
- 1973-03-28
- Género
- male
- Nacionalidad
- Bulgarije
Amerika - Lugar de nacimiento
- Sofia, Bulgarije
- Educación
- National Music School “Lubomir Pipkov”, Sofia, Bulgarije
Berklee College of Music
Institute of Buddhist Dialectics, Dharamsala, India
Brown University (MFA ∙ Creative Writing) - Ocupaciones
- Schrijver
Muzikant - Relaciones
- Trussoni, Danielle (Echtgenote)
- Biografía breve
- Grozni was born in Sofia, Bulgaria, at a time when the country was still under an oppressive communist rule. After being accepted to the National Music School “Lubomir Pipkov”, he trained to become a concert pianist, winning his first international piano award in Salerno, Italy, in 1983. Following the political changes after the fall of the Berlin Wall, in 1992 Grozni left Bulgaria to study Jazz and composition at Berklee College of Music, Boston. In 1995, shortly before graduating from Berklee, Grozni suddenly decided to give up music altogether and left for India to become a Buddhist monk and study Tibetan language. He spent four years in Dharamsala, studying at the Institute of Buddhist Dialectics, before joining Drepung Monastery in South India in 1999, where he stayed for six months. The five years he spent in India would become the inspiration for his three works in Bulgarian, as well as for his memoir in English: ‘Turtle Feet: The making and unmaking of a Buddhist monk." Grozni holds an MFA in creative writing from Brown University.
Miembros
Reseñas
Turtle Feet por Nikolai Grozni
I was surprised by how much I liked this. Part travel-logue, part Dharma bums, it tells the story of a young Bulgarian piano prodigy, who gives up his studies at Berlee and moves to Dharamsala to become a Buddhist monk. The writing was fresh and funny with lots of vivid descriptions of every day life.
was he meditating regularly? or was he just learning the tibetan language and studying texts with masters, and doing the classes and debates? I guess I wanted to know more about his actual practice - that's what I was expecting this book to be about. there were those stream-of-consciousness monologues here and there, about time and space collapsing - as if he was having a spiritual breakthrough, or on the brink of one. maybe I wanted more of that. I did love Tsar a lot. Geshe Yama Tseten was hilarious, with his encyclopedia of marine life. And Vinnie!! What a bizarre collection of characters.… (más)
It looks like a classic coming of age story. A teenager has major trouble with authority, and is more interested in drinking, doing drugs and having sex than doing what the adult world expects of him. Until, finally, big bad reality catches up with him and forces him to deal with the consequences.
But this skeleton frame is really the only thing unoriginal about this story, which quite frankly blew me away. For the setting here is the Musical Academy for Gifted Children in Sofia, Bugaria, in the years just before the fall of the iron curtain. Konstantin is not an ideologist, he’s just rebellious and has no patience for the strict regime at the Academy. He’s skipping classes to have sex in the attic with brilliant Irina, he’s cheating at tests, he’s selling school property to his hoodlum pals, he’s taunting the party’s informants, he’s constantly pulling pranks. And he gets away with it too, since he’s a genius pianist, a true wonderchild. He threads the thin line, his grades are more than wobbly - but he knows the school will never let him go, he will always defeat the mediocre by doing what he loves. Until the day his best friend Vadim, the other piano ace at the school, gets expelled, with no chance of ever seriously performing again. Suddenly, Konstantin’s beef with the teachers takes a very serious turn. Suddenly, the stakes are very high. Suddenly, music and futures and lives are destroyed.
This is probably the best coming of age story I’ve read ever. Grozni’s blend of dirty realism and lyrical descriptions of classical music is just right, and even an illiterate like me gets caught up in Konstantin’s imagery around Brahms, Bach and Chopin. You can really tell that Grozni himself has a background in classical music. The city Sofia is also beautifully caught, as are the late times of Bulgarian communism, a tired system with few earnest defenders, and the civil war in the faculty between the artistic teachers and the academic ones – the brutality of the latter only matched my the naivety of the former.
Best of all though, is how this books glissandos from bawdy entertainment to something very very serious, until I find myself silently gasping “oh no” at some of the final twists. I picked up Wunderkind at a sale, mainly to get a Bulgarian entry for my Europe Endless challenge. I wasn’t expecting the best book I’ve read this year.… (más)
But this skeleton frame is really the only thing unoriginal about this story, which quite frankly blew me away. For the setting here is the Musical Academy for Gifted Children in Sofia, Bugaria, in the years just before the fall of the iron curtain. Konstantin is not an ideologist, he’s just rebellious and has no patience for the strict regime at the Academy. He’s skipping classes to have sex in the attic with brilliant Irina, he’s cheating at tests, he’s selling school property to his hoodlum pals, he’s taunting the party’s informants, he’s constantly pulling pranks. And he gets away with it too, since he’s a genius pianist, a true wonderchild. He threads the thin line, his grades are more than wobbly - but he knows the school will never let him go, he will always defeat the mediocre by doing what he loves. Until the day his best friend Vadim, the other piano ace at the school, gets expelled, with no chance of ever seriously performing again. Suddenly, Konstantin’s beef with the teachers takes a very serious turn. Suddenly, the stakes are very high. Suddenly, music and futures and lives are destroyed.
This is probably the best coming of age story I’ve read ever. Grozni’s blend of dirty realism and lyrical descriptions of classical music is just right, and even an illiterate like me gets caught up in Konstantin’s imagery around Brahms, Bach and Chopin. You can really tell that Grozni himself has a background in classical music. The city Sofia is also beautifully caught, as are the late times of Bulgarian communism, a tired system with few earnest defenders, and the civil war in the faculty between the artistic teachers and the academic ones – the brutality of the latter only matched my the naivety of the former.
Best of all though, is how this books glissandos from bawdy entertainment to something very very serious, until I find myself silently gasping “oh no” at some of the final twists. I picked up Wunderkind at a sale, mainly to get a Bulgarian entry for my Europe Endless challenge. I wasn’t expecting the best book I’ve read this year.… (más)
3 
GingerbreadMan | 3 reseñas más. | Apr 7, 2014 |
GingerbreadMan | 3 reseñas más. | Apr 7, 2014 | This is a dark, gritty, sometimes difficult read set in Bulgaria prior to the fall of communism. The narrator of the story is Konstantin, a brilliant but disillusioned adolescent pianist who is training at a special high school for musicians. Despite its musical focus, the school never ceases to push party doctrine on the students. Konstantin finds himself disgusted at the "sheep" mentality of those around him which is in stark contrast to his own rage against the system.
There is a heavy focus on music throughout the novel. I have a musical background, but I was lost in some places. I didn't find that this detracted from the story (although it did feel a bit frustrating at times). The point, however, is not the technicalities of the music, but the meaning of the music in the story-- how it moves the characters, drives them, punishes them, owns them, and saves them. Music is the one light in Konstantin's dull, grey world, his source of meaning; his relationship with the music and with those who speak his same language is touching, and eloquently portrayed.
There is no question that the novel is very heavy, and difficult in places. The setting is dark (Sofia is constantly covered by rolling grey clouds), reflecting a monochromatic life of automatonism. Konstantin often seems like a beautiful, angry bird beating his wings uselessly against a cage. His musings about his life and the world around him are frequently depressing as he feels increasingly suffocated and trapped. It is the darkness of the tone that makes the novel so effective. It drives home, relentlessly and painfully, the cruel consequences of a system in which individiuals are sacrificed for the good of the whole, the playing field is unfairly evened out, and uniqueness and independent thought are discouraged. It is an unrelenting, unflinchingly honest portrait of life under the communist regime.
If I'm being honest, it was somewhat difficult to like Konstantin's character at first; he seemed distant, self-absorbed and arrogant at times. But his sardonic, philosophical voice is compelling and relentlessly honest. And as the story continues, he makes perfect sense as a product of his environment. Even the way his character narrates reflects that environment-- a place in which you never really let anyone see the "inside" stuff. The rich reward of this novel is that eventually we do get to see the real, deeper humanity of Konstantin, and it's worth the wait.
This is not a novel that's concerned with whether it makes you feel good, or whether you like the characters. It's a raw, real, honest novel that puts you smack in the middle of a nightmare world that could happen anywhere. It opens the door to that world, pushes you inside and insists that experience it for yourself. It is about showing the truth, and it couldn't do so effectively without its raw, unapologetic grit.
It's a tough read. There were moments I wanted to put it down. And I'm so glad I didn't, because I would have missed out. If you can stick with the tough parts, this novel has tremendous rewards in store. The language is at once tight, crisp and lush and has a beautiful, almost musical flow to it. This is a novel with something to say, and it will leave you uncomfortable, unsettled, and deep in thought, the way great literature is supposed to.… (más)
There is a heavy focus on music throughout the novel. I have a musical background, but I was lost in some places. I didn't find that this detracted from the story (although it did feel a bit frustrating at times). The point, however, is not the technicalities of the music, but the meaning of the music in the story-- how it moves the characters, drives them, punishes them, owns them, and saves them. Music is the one light in Konstantin's dull, grey world, his source of meaning; his relationship with the music and with those who speak his same language is touching, and eloquently portrayed.
There is no question that the novel is very heavy, and difficult in places. The setting is dark (Sofia is constantly covered by rolling grey clouds), reflecting a monochromatic life of automatonism. Konstantin often seems like a beautiful, angry bird beating his wings uselessly against a cage. His musings about his life and the world around him are frequently depressing as he feels increasingly suffocated and trapped. It is the darkness of the tone that makes the novel so effective. It drives home, relentlessly and painfully, the cruel consequences of a system in which individiuals are sacrificed for the good of the whole, the playing field is unfairly evened out, and uniqueness and independent thought are discouraged. It is an unrelenting, unflinchingly honest portrait of life under the communist regime.
If I'm being honest, it was somewhat difficult to like Konstantin's character at first; he seemed distant, self-absorbed and arrogant at times. But his sardonic, philosophical voice is compelling and relentlessly honest. And as the story continues, he makes perfect sense as a product of his environment. Even the way his character narrates reflects that environment-- a place in which you never really let anyone see the "inside" stuff. The rich reward of this novel is that eventually we do get to see the real, deeper humanity of Konstantin, and it's worth the wait.
This is not a novel that's concerned with whether it makes you feel good, or whether you like the characters. It's a raw, real, honest novel that puts you smack in the middle of a nightmare world that could happen anywhere. It opens the door to that world, pushes you inside and insists that experience it for yourself. It is about showing the truth, and it couldn't do so effectively without its raw, unapologetic grit.
It's a tough read. There were moments I wanted to put it down. And I'm so glad I didn't, because I would have missed out. If you can stick with the tough parts, this novel has tremendous rewards in store. The language is at once tight, crisp and lush and has a beautiful, almost musical flow to it. This is a novel with something to say, and it will leave you uncomfortable, unsettled, and deep in thought, the way great literature is supposed to.… (más)
Listas
music to my eyes (1)
Eastern Europe (1)
También Puede Gustarte
Estadísticas
- Obras
- 3
- Miembros
- 164
- Popularidad
- #129,117
- Valoración
- 4.0
- Reseñas
- 9
- ISBNs
- 12
- Idiomas
- 2