Read el malvado demiurgo by Emil M. Cioran Online


Emile Cioran nació en Rumania en 1911. En 1937 continúa sus estudios en París, dónde vivió la mayor parte del resto de su vida. Sus primeras obras se publicaron en rumano, pero posteriormente escribiría exclusivamente en francés con estilo aforístico. Considerado como uno de los mejores escritores de Francia, Cioran es un pensador radical, heterodoxo, terriblemente lúcidoEmile Cioran nació en Rumania en 1911. En 1937 continúa sus estudios en París, dónde vivió la mayor parte del resto de su vida. Sus primeras obras se publicaron en rumano, pero posteriormente escribiría exclusivamente en francés con estilo aforístico. Considerado como uno de los mejores escritores de Francia, Cioran es un pensador radical, heterodoxo, terriblemente lúcido y revulsivo. Los libros de Cioran despiertan al lector. Cioran fallece en París en 1995....

Title : el malvado demiurgo
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ISBN : 19228044
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Number of Pages : 102 Pages
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el malvado demiurgo Reviews

  • Szplug
    2019-05-08 09:37

    A man does not kill himself, as is commonly supposed, in a fit of madness but rather in a fit of unendurable lucidity, in a paroxysm which may, if so desired, be identified with madness; for an excessive perspicacity, carried to the limit and of which one longs to be rid at all costs, exceeds the context of reason.The obsession with suicide is characteristic of the man who can neither live nor die, and whose attention never swerves from this double impossibility.The flesh spreads, further and further, like a gangrene upon the surface of the globe. It cannot impose limits upon itself, it continues to be rife despite its rebuffs, it takes its defeats for conquests, it has never learned anything. It belongs above all to the realm of the Creator, and it is indeed in the flesh that He has projected His maleficent instincts.Always to have lived with the nostalgia to coincide with something, but not really knowing with what—it is easy to shift from unbelief to belief, or conversely. But what is there to convert to, and what is there to abjure, in a state of chronic lucidity?In order to conceive, and to steep ourselves in, unreality, we must have it constantly present to our minds. The day we feel it, see it, everything becomes unreal, except that unreality which alone makes existence tolerable.Madness is perhaps merely an affliction which no longer develops.Good day sunshine...

  • Greg
    2019-04-23 06:44

    In light of current events I lost the excitement that this book had for me. This line towards the end of the book sort of neatly sums up my current feelings on the book:"In theory, it matters little to me whether I live as whether I die; in practice, I am lacerated by every anxiety which opens an abyss between life and death."

  • PGR Nair
    2019-04-27 03:34

    EM Corian, the Romanian Philosopher, is perhaps the most pessimistic writer who lures the reader with his iconoclastic thoughts about everything- life, Gods, religion, society and culture. His writings is like that of someone possessed; subversive, demoniacal, anti-inspirational, feverish and finally enchanting. This book is replete with so many lyrical aphorisms that one stays excited and wonder whether is it is a rare combo of art and philosophy. Yet, many of his aphorisms, like that of epitaphs, aim for timelessness. He is like a mad man who seeks objectivity, such is Cioran’s self-contradictory assessment and one can sense his delirious fervor in all his books. How can one resist laughing and at the same time admiring on a famous quote like, “Reality gives me asthma”.In his lifetime, Cioran , who later chose to write his works in French, was acclaimed by St John Perse as “the greatest French writer to honor our language since the death of Paul Valéry”, a master of French prose and a modern Socrates, and “the most distinguished figure in the tradition of Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein” (Susan Sontag). When he died in Paris in 1995, he was honored with a standing ovation in the Assemblée Nationale that described him as one of the greatest French philosophers of the 20th century.The book The New Gods , beautifully translated by Richard Howard, explores humanity’s attachment to gods, death, fear, and infirmity, in essays that vary widely in form and approach. The very first line in the chapter “Demiurge” itself reflects Cioran’s deepening pessimism about man’s capacity to do anything good :-“With the exception of some aberrant cases, man does not incline to the good: what god would impel him to do so? Man must vanquish himself, must do himself violence, in order to perform the slightest action untainted by evil.” He then makes a challenging statement that our Lord had no hand in creation.“It is difficult, it is impossible to believe that the Good Lord—“Our Father”—had a hand in the scandal of creation. Everything suggests that He took no part in it, that it proceeds from a god without scruples, a feculent god. Goodness does not create, lacking imagination; it takes imagination to put together a world, however botched. At the very least, there must be a mixture of good and evil in order to produce an action or a work.” “Creation is in fact a fault, man’s famous sin thereby appearing as a minor version of a much graver one. What are we guilty of, except of having followed, more or less slavishly, the Creator’s example? Easy to recognize in ourselves the fatality which was His: not for nothing have we issued from the hands of a wicked and woebegone god, a god accursed”In the next chapter “New Gods”, he says that “Man can breathe only in the shadow of eroded divinities.” In his opinion, “The beginnings of a religion (like the beginnings of anything) are always suspect. They alone, though, possess some reality, they alone are true; true and abominable.” Cioran lashes trenchantly against Christianity’s early coercion for conversion:-“But what sort of frenzy was it in which the citizen participated when he became a convert? Not so well prepared as the others, he possessed but one recourse: to hate himself. Without this deviation of hatred, at first atypical, subsequently contagious, Christianity would have remained no more than a sect, limited to a foreign clientele, actually capable of no more than painlessly trading in the old gods for a nailed corpse.”Cioran, though a Christian, is more tolerant to Judaism and quotes the Roman Emperor Julian:- “Judaism regarded them all as false except one, its own. “Their only error,” Julian says of the Jews, “is that even as they seek to satisfy their god, they do not serve the others at the same time.” Yet he praises them for their repugnance to follow the fashion with regard to religion. “I shun innovation in all things, and especially in that which concerns the gods”—an admission which has discredited him and which is used to brand him as a “reactionary.” But what “progress,” one wonders, does Christianity represent in relation to paganism? There is no “qualitative leap” from one god to another, nor from one civilization to another, any more than from one language to another.”In “Paleontology” Cioran describes a visit to a Natural History museum ( I think it must be the one in London as he speaks of Minerals section as well) , finding the relatively pedestrian destination rife with decay, death, and human weakness. The unwanted attention given to skeletons makes him nervous. He writes:- “Nowhere is one better served with respect to the past. Here the possible seems inconceivable or cracked. One gets the impression that the flesh was eclipsed upon its advent, that in fact it never existed at all, that it could not have been fastened to bones so stately, so imbued with themselves. The flesh appears as an imposture, a fraud, a disguise which masks nothing. Was this all it was? And if it is worth no more, how does it manage to inspire me with repulsion or with terror?”The chapter on “Encounters with Suicides” is fascinating for its surreal meditation. Cioran occupies a position of extreme solitude in French intellectual life. Like his fellow Romanian, the playwright Eugene Ionesco, who also lives in Paris, he is fascinated by death, although Mr. Ionesco flees it in a panic while Mr.Cioran woos it with honeyed words and knowing smiles . Cioran explores suicide in impressionistic bursts and think of suicide as “the abyss without vertigo. He finds in suicide "the intoxication of feeling pulverized by your own consciousness" -- and yet, ""without the notion of suicide one would kill oneself on the spot." We are jolted when he says “Whoever hasn’t died young deserves death”. He is seduced by the possibility of conceiving a thought -- ""just one, but one that would tear the universe to pieces."" But it is the empty mind, the psyche detached from all idols, that liberates ("a triumphal stupor"): "Health consists in exercise and vacuity, in muscles and meditation; in no case in thought. “But we must beware void's mimic, Nothingness. Like Nietzsche, Cioran writes ironically, poetically, of death and drive ("Terrifying happiness. Veins in which thousands of planets distend"). He is not without humor: ""Fear of an imminent collapse of the brain counts for a great deal in the need to pray."The last section, “Strangled Thoughts” is one where Cioran is at his best in the form of the aphorism. I wish to quote liberally from this section as well as some of the preceding ones to give an impression about the treasure trove of ideas the book contains :At this very moment, almost everywhere, thousands and thousands are dying, while, clutching my pen, I vainly search for a word to annotate their agony.Each moment’s tug of war between nostalgia for the deluge and intoxication with routine.What is called “strength of mind” is the courage not to imagine our fate otherwise.First duty, on getting up in the morning: to blush for yourself.Refinement is the sign of deficient vitality, in art, in love, and in everything.Endless brooding over a question undermines you as much as a dull pain.Each being is a broken hymn. The only man who knows what it feels like to be accursed is the man who knows he would have that feeling in the middle of paradise. Everything, in the end, comes down to desire or to the absence of desire. The rest is nuance.Sickness gives flavor to want, it intensifies, it picks up poverty.There is only one sign that indicates we have understood everything: tears without cause.What they ask you for is actions, proofs, works, and all you can produce are transformed tears.What is commonly called “being expressive” is being prolix.On the spiritual level, all pain is an opportunity; on the spiritual level alone.The only true solitude is where we brood upon the urgency of a prayer—a prayer posterior to God and to faith itself.Frivolous, disconnected, an amateur at everything, I shall have known thoroughly only the disadvantage of having been born.We would not be interested in human beings if we did not have the hope of someday meeting someone worse off than ourselves.Suicide is a sudden accomplishment, a lightning like deliverance: it is nirvana by violence.So simple a fact as looking at a knife and realizing that it depends only on yourself to make a certain use of it gives you a sensation of sovereignty which can turn to megalomania.Sleep would be good for something if each time we dropped off we tried to see ourselves die; after a few years’ training, death would lose all its prestige and would seem no more than a formality or a pinprick.To look for a meaning in anything is less the act of a naif than of a masochist.Eat nothing you have not sown and harvested with your own hand”—this recommendation of Vedic wisdom is so legitimate and so convincing that, in one’s rage over being unable to abide by it, one would like to let oneself starve to death.So long as you envy another’s success, even if it is a god’s, you are a vile slave like everyone else.We may be sure that the twenty-first century, more advanced than ours, will regard Hitler and Stalin as choirboys.Death is the aroma of existence. Death alone lends savor to the moments, alone combats their insipidity. We owe death almost everything. This debt of recognition which we now and then consent to pay is what is most comforting here on earth.Wisdom disguises our wounds: it teaches us how to bleed in secret.Everything blurs and fades in human beings except the look in their eyes and the voice: without these, we could recognize no one after a few years.Nothing gives us a better conscience than to fall asleep with the clear view of one of our defects, which till then we hadn’t dared admit, we hadn’t even suspected.Speech and silence. We feel safer with a madman who talks than with one who cannot open his mouth.Awakening is independent of intellectual capacities: a genius can be a dunce, spiritually speaking. Moreover, knowledge as such gets one no further. An illiterate can possess “the eye of understanding” and thereby find himself above and beyond any scholar.I love Cioran’s howling pessimism and he teaches us to doubt than devour everything that we come across in life. He is a rare distillation of all the philosophers- Pascal, Montaigne, La Rochefoucauld and Schopenhauer – who preceded him. The New Gods reaffirms Cioran’s belief in “lucid despair,” and his own signature mixture of pessimism and scepticism in language that never fails to be a pleasure. Let me conclude with his lovely message :-“ For a man to whom freedom and vertigo are equivalent, a faith, wherever it comes from, even if it were antireligious, is a salutary shackle, a desired, a dreamed-of chain whose function will be to constrain curiosity and fever, to suspend the anguish of the indefinite.” I must frame this somewhere.

  • Patrick
    2019-04-22 10:42

    At present, to think of this book is to give myself a screaming headache. I certainly hope to provide a more coherent review someday, but that day is not today and is not likely any time in the immediate future. It is not quite like any book I've ever read before, I can confidently state that. But whether the author is simply a raving maniac or a deeply profound thinker? I can't confidently agree with either assertion. Nor can I disagree with either. And, curiously, I can't help but think Cioran would disagree with either or both labels. So: This book is seriously fucked up. In the same way a Molotov Cocktail dropped on your head would be. Yet it manages to grab your attention and hold the same way a Molotov Cocktail dropped on your head would. Which doubtless makes absolutely no sense. Unless you read the book. At which point I would submit my little conceit would make sense, at least arguably. Cheers.

  • Cristina
    2019-05-09 06:39

    „Să discerni că ceea ce ești nu ești tu, că ceea ce ai nu e al tău, să nu mai aderi la nimic, nici măcar la propria-ți viață - iată ce înseamnă să vezi cu adevărat, să cobori până la rădăcina nulă a oricărui lucru.”„O întrebare rumegată la nesfârșit te macină la fel ca o durere înăbușită.”„Suferința te face să trăiești timpul în detaliu, moment cu moment. Ceea ce înseamnă că pentru tine timpul există - și încă cum! În schimb peste ceilalți alunecă, peste cei ce nu suferă; se poate spune, de aceea, că ei nu trăiesc în timp, și că nici n-au trăit vreodată în el. ”„Cel convins că e neînțeles încearcă în egală măsură sentimente de orgoliu și de rușine. De unde caracterul echivoc al oricărui eșec. Pe de o parte izvor de vanitate, pe de alta de umilință. Cât de impură e orice înfrângere!”„A suferi însemnă a produce cunoaștere.”„Priviți natura celui care a reușit, care a tras, indiferent de domeniu. Mi veți descoperii la el nici cea mai mică urmă de milă. Din asemenea material e făcut un dușman.”„În teorie, îmi pasă la fel de puțin dacă trăiesc sau dacă mor; în practică, sunt muncit de toate spaimele ce cască un abis între viață și moarte.”„După anumite nopți, ar trebui să ne schimbăm numele, căci cu adevărat nu mai suntem aceeași.”„Tot ce ni se întâmplă, tot ce contează pentru noi nu prezintă nici un interes pentru ceilalți; ar trebui să ne elaborăm regulile de conduită pornind de la această evidență Un om cu judecată ar trebui să proscrie din vocabularul său intim cuvântul eveniment.”„Există doar un singur semn ce atestă că ai înțeles totul: să plângi fără motiv.”

  • Camilo Andrés
    2019-05-17 10:30

    Leí este libro en mi adolescencia, y ya lo había olvidado, o eso creía. Pero ahora que lo releo siento que muchos de sus argumentos son mis propios argumentos. Me queda la duda si lo leí porque pensaba cosas similares y el libro articuló muchas de mis meditaciones, o si al contrario, lo leí y el libro moldeó mi pensamiento. No me había atrevido a releer a Cioran por miedo a desencantarme, pero al parecer lo siento fresco y muy vivo, hay que ver si sus demás libros se sostienen de la misma forma.

  • Maurizio Manco
    2019-05-21 03:20

    "Siamo tutti in fondo a un inferno, dove ogni attimo è un miracolo." (p. 161)

  • dely
    2019-05-20 05:50

    È la seconda volta che provo a leggerlo, ma non fa proprio per me. Lo metto via definitivamente.

  • Bruce
    2019-05-02 04:47

    This book presents a philosophy resembling nihilism, with the added thought that "one" (the non-self) should *embrace* the void/nothingness.The first third of the book is absolutely superb, not that a typical person would agree with much of it, but that it gets you to think about things in a different way. It is not likely to dissuade anyone from their views, in my estimation, but it is good at getting one to explore different modes of thinking. The middle third attempts to sell the reader on suicide. Anyone who is depressed should probably skim over this section, or just skip the book completely. It is actually pretty well argued, although, as you can see, I did not embrace it.The last third of the book is what kept this from being a four-star book. The last third is just utter trash. The author attempts to write in a Proverbs style, and ends up saying some of the stupidest imaginable things, with the stupid far outweighing the relatively few worthwhile insights. It is hard to believe that the author of the first two-thirds of the book also wrote the last third.I had one of the author's books on back order, but cancelled the order after I finished reading this book. If you find this in the library sometime when you are browsing around, you might want to scan the first third. Otherwise, I think your money and time could be better spent.

  • Sorin Hadârcă
    2019-05-02 03:32

    Un Cioran clasic, chiar dacă surprinzător de budist. Surpinzător? Nimic n-ar trebui să surpindă la acest deziluzionat, poate doar optimismul și credința în ziua de mâine. Atunci l-am atinge ușor de umăr și l-am întreba: „Ce-i cu tine, Emil, te-ai îmbolnăvit?” Mântuit prin ultima frază: „Suntem cu toții pe fundul unui iad unde fiece clipă e un miracol.”

  • Antonio Delgado
    2019-05-15 07:45

    The horror of being aware of our skull, the consequences of monotheism and the absurd of the void (including the Buddhist void) are only the surface of Cioran’s pessimism. Cioran is nostalgic for paganism, for multiplicity, for skepticism as a form of liberation from dogmatic life.

  • Dima Țapordei
    2019-04-23 02:37

    M-a deranjat doar limbajul greoi. Trebuia să stau cu DEX online deschis. Să presupunem că Cioran a folosit un asemenea limbaj, dar măcar la traducere se putea de folosit ceva mai practic, ceva ce să nu mă facă să mă simt ultra-prost.

  • Full Stop
    2019-05-10 02:37 by Michael SchapiraIs Emil Cioran an author to be feared? Is his writing dangerous in some way that should, for example, prevent me from including his aphorisms at the end of group emails? Is this kind of question ridiculous to even ask nowadays, when the more appropriate question would be whether it is possible to take Cioran, or any writer for that matter, seriously enough to feel his threat? I would have thought not, had a classmate not raised this very issue when I suggested that we read The New Gods in our reading group. What about Cioran’s early admiration of Hitler, they objected? And his enthusiasm for the Iron Guard, a fascist political movement from Cioran’s native Romania? This is not to reduce writers to their politics or biographies, they assured the group with the obligatory reference to Heidegger, but just to raise a note of caution to make sure that we knew what we would be getting into.In the case of Cioran the question of biography is either distracting or illuminating, depending on which way we take it. To begin with distraction, namely the political side, it is not the most earth shattering insight to observe that among the big ideologies of the 20th century, the one most shot through with contradictions was the anti-Semetic strain of fascism. Take, for example, Celine, the virulent anti-Semite, writing to a former lover, a Jew, on the news that her husband was killed in Dachau:Dear Cillie,What awful news! At least you’re far away, on the other side of the world. Were you able to take a little money with you? Obviously, you’re going to start a new life over there. How will you work? Where will Europe be by the time you receive this letter?We’re living over a volcano.On my side, my little dramas are nothing compared to yours (for the moment), but tragedy looms nonetheless . . .Because of my anti-Semitic stance I’ve lost all my jobs (Clichy, etc.) and I’m going to court on March 8. You see, Jews can persecute too.Read the rest here:

  • Denise
    2019-05-22 02:26

    Apreciez oarecum la Cioran și mi se pare interesant cum, spre deosebire de alți autori, nu te coboară treptat în infern, ci te aruncă direct în Groapa Marianelor fără vreo introducere, apoi te ține acolo... și te ține... și te ține... și te-ai aștepta ca la un moment dat să te readucă măcar până la linia de plutire... dar el te ține acolo... iar în final aruncă un bolovan peste tine și te strivește.Totuși, am citit autori care pot crea astfel de sentimente și folosind cuvinte mai puțin pompoase, care să te facă să te simți incult. Pe lângă faptul că stând cu dicționarul alături nu prea te lasă să intri în atmosfera aia de ceață neagră, densă și grea.

  • Schopfi
    2019-05-19 07:50

    The intellectual traditions of early buddhism and katharism may have influenced Cioran, but in accordance with his "unhealthy" skepticism, he leaves behind even these most minimalist ideas of hope. Letting go even of the concept of letting go, yet still being in the world of desire. Writing - with the knowledge that "nothing counts". This seems to be the central contradiction, from which the tension of his prose is derived.

  • James
    2019-04-27 03:26

    "Each being is a broken hymn." This book, which I gather was one of Cioran's later works (judging by its date) is an interesting examination of Gnostic themes and Dark Buddhism, with loving odes to the "purifying void" and "happy skeletons": the essay "Paleontology" was especially well-written and a joy to read. And it's always nice to see the Bogomils getting a shout-out. "...don't forget that you are a fugitive assemblage, a composite whose ingredients are only waiting to come apart."

  • Matt
    2019-05-06 04:26

    Some chapters better than others, my favorite was the final chapter which consisted of pithy comments that stung at the heart of humanity. Loved how beautiful Cioran writes, and how willing he is to stare in the face of hypocrisy.

  • Williams
    2019-04-25 03:37

    "Von Natur aus bin ich jedem Unternehmen gegenüber abweisend, daß ich, um mich zu einem solchen zu entschließen, zuvor in einer Biographie von Alexander oder Dschingis-Khan blättern muss."

  • Massimiliano Scordamaglia
    2019-04-25 08:24

    Recensione completa qui: