Some piano player dies. Then the friend's protagonist kills himself. The protagonist is in a pension talking to himself.
They studied together with the piano player. He was a genius. So much so that both decided to give up their musical careers because they knew they'd never be like him. That's what happened. The rest is a mental stream of the protagonist remembering things again and again OCD style.
It's the banality of it that kills you. It's like Camus but even more unassuming, in a "the world is so hellish I don't even care about telling you a good story" way.
That error is not as wrong as it seems, The Loser takes to being analyzed that way quite well and in some ways that is a more effective way to look at it.
>some piano player
His name was Glenn Gould you uncultured swine
>t. plotgay
Doesn't really matter.
11 months ago
Anonymous
Glenn Gould was a real person you idiot
11 months ago
Anonymous
You are not as bright as you think.
>plotgay
Considering Bernhard was a musician himself it's not insignificant how he saw Gould and Horowitz
>not insignificant
But completely inconsequential when it comes to understanding the book, trivia. We can read the book as both Gould and Horowitz being fictional characters without losing much if anything, they are ultimately an easy way to give depth to them and establish their reputation/importance, he does not need to spend time on this or fall back on "just trust me bro, they are gods."
11 months ago
Anonymous
>plotgay
Considering Bernhard was a musician himself it's not insignificant how he saw Gould and Horowitz
Not really in Wertheimer but more in the protagonist and his probably fake grief (if you can call it that). In the end all three men are broken in different ways. They are "friends" but they barely tolerate each other. It really reminds you of how fake and pointless everything is.
My fren you have to tell us what's in it that'll cause such pain to sell the book to us.
Some piano player dies. Then the friend's protagonist kills himself. The protagonist is in a pension talking to himself.
They studied together with the piano player. He was a genius. So much so that both decided to give up their musical careers because they knew they'd never be like him. That's what happened. The rest is a mental stream of the protagonist remembering things again and again OCD style.
It's the banality of it that kills you. It's like Camus but even more unassuming, in a "the world is so hellish I don't even care about telling you a good story" way.
>the friend's protagonist
The protagonist's friend
my wife's boyfriend fricked my boyfriend's wife
That error is not as wrong as it seems, The Loser takes to being analyzed that way quite well and in some ways that is a more effective way to look at it.
>t. plotgay
Doesn't really matter.
Glenn Gould was a real person you idiot
You are not as bright as you think.
>not insignificant
But completely inconsequential when it comes to understanding the book, trivia. We can read the book as both Gould and Horowitz being fictional characters without losing much if anything, they are ultimately an easy way to give depth to them and establish their reputation/importance, he does not need to spend time on this or fall back on "just trust me bro, they are gods."
>plotgay
Considering Bernhard was a musician himself it's not insignificant how he saw Gould and Horowitz
>some piano player
His name was Glenn Gould you uncultured swine
WHy is glenn gould here. is this a novel or a memoir?
I don't know. Bernhard was gay for him I suppose.
It’s fricking hilarious, you mentally weak loser
How much of yourself did you see in Wertheimer?
Not really in Wertheimer but more in the protagonist and his probably fake grief (if you can call it that). In the end all three men are broken in different ways. They are "friends" but they barely tolerate each other. It really reminds you of how fake and pointless everything is.
Yeah, you sound like a moron.
I am a loser myself.
I wish I could be a wealthy loser.
If you think this is crushing, you should read his stories, especially Amras.