Blind Owl

15.00

Title: Blind Owl

Author: Sadegh Hedayat

Publisher: Forbidden

Subject: Persian short stories, forbidden

Age category: Adult

Cover: Paperback

Number of pages: 87 p

Language: Farsi

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Description

Introducing the book The Blind Owl by Sadegh Hedayat
The Blind Owl is the most famous work of Sadegh Hedayat, an Iranian writer, translator and intellectual. He wrote The Blind Owl when he traveled to India in 1315 and sent 50 copies to his friends. The Blind Owl has also been translated into English and French.

The Blind Owl is also one of the greatest Iranian novels, and by reading it, you will become acquainted with a huge volume of symbols and currents of thought. Sadegh Hedayat was born in Tehran in 1281 and committed suicide in 1330 in Paris. Hedayat says in his biography (+):

Biography I have not had any outstanding points in Brandard, no significant incidents have occurred in it, I have not had a title, I do not have an important diploma, I have not been a brilliant student in school, but on the contrary, I have always faced failure. In the offices I have worked in, I have always been a vague and anonymous member, and my bosses have bled from me in such a way that every time I have resigned, it has been accepted with delusional joy. All in all, the useless waste is the judgment of the environment about me, and perhaps that is the truth.

The book The Blind Owl begins with sentences that make it clear to the reader at the outset that he is not dealing with an ordinary book. The opening sentences of this novel are one of the most well-known and famous beginnings that almost everyone knows is from The Blind Owl:

There are wounds in life that slowly eat away at the soul in isolation.
These pains can not be expressed to anyone, because they are generally accustomed to consider these incredible pains as rare and strange occurrences and events, and if someone says or writes, people try to consider it as a skeptical and mocking smile because of their current beliefs and opinions. – Because human beings have not yet found a cure for it and the only cure for it is forgetfulness through wine and artificial sleep by opium and narcotics – but alas, the effect of such drugs is temporary and instead of relief, it increases the pain after a while.

Will anyone one day discover the secrets of these supernatural events, this reflection of the shadow of the soul that appears in a state of coma and purgatory between sleep and wakefulness?

The story of the book The Blind Owl
The story of the novel The Blind Owl is narrated in two parts.

In the first part, the main character of the blind owl – who lives in a house outside the ditch in Rey city – describes one of these horrible pains that happened to him. He, who has taken up the profession of painting on the pen, mysteriously always draws the same pattern on the pen, which is: Gives. There is a blue atmosphere between the girl and the old man and…

The story of the book, however, begins when one day the narrator sees a scene he has always painted through the hole in the back of his house – which seems to have never existed at all – and is fascinated by the (ethereal) look of the girl, and his life is terribly changed so that That Maghreb finds the girl sitting next to him in her house and…

The narrator then goes into a trance due to opium use and returns to the past in the dream world and finds himself in a new environment that is completely familiar to him despite being new.

The second part of the novel The Blind Owl is the narrator’s story in this new world, in the past.

From here, the narrator begins to write and narrate the story for his shadow, which is the shape of an owl, and swallows everything the narrator writes with eagerness. The narrator here is a young but sick and suffering person. Throughout the second part of the novel, he refers to his confrontation with the rijals and expresses his hatred for them. He believes that the outside world is the world of rijals.

The narrator’s nurse is his old midwife, who was also Lakata’s midwife, and in his own way (from the narrator’s point of view) he relieves the narrator’s pain and brings him wisdom and fortune-telling, and gives him various potions and و

Many books and articles have been written about the blind owl in a specialized way, some of which are:

Sadegh Hedayat and Fear of Death, the Analytical Breakdown of the Analytical Psyche of the Blind Owl by Mohammad Sanati

About the Blind Owl by Mohammad Ali Homayoun Katozian

This is the Blind Owl – An Interpretation of the Blind Owl – by M. ی. Polar

There is no doubt that The Blind Owl is a profound and conceptual novel with a variety of symbols throughout. But public reactions to the novel are different.

The theme of most of Sadegh Hedayat’s stories and writings is death thinking, criticism of a tyrannical society, and denial of superstition. In The Blind Owl, Sadegh Hedayat does not talk much about death, and this dark atmosphere has made it impossible for some people to communicate with this novel. But there are also people who enjoy Sadegh Hedayat’s writings in The Blind Owl and read it over and over again.

In my opinion, a reader who seeks to gain different experiences and likes to see the world through the eyes of different authors, must go to Sadegh Hedayat and the Blind Owl. The feeling you get after reading Blind Owl is a pure and first-rate feeling that few books, especially among Iranian novels, can give you. Hedayat’s honest worldview is very special in Blind Owl and surprises anyone interested.

It is very difficult to write about the book of the blind owl and not everyone can easily claim to have understood this book. Our only suggestion is to read this novel!

Blind Owl Conduction Effect

Sentences from the text of the book The Blind Owl
In this lowly world of poverty and homelessness, I first thought that a ray of sunshine shone in my life – but alas, it was not a ray of sunshine, but just a passing ray, a flying star that manifested itself to me as a woman or an angel. And in the light of that moment, for only a second, I saw all the misery of my life and realized its greatness and glory, and then this ray disappeared again in the vortex of darkness that must disappear – no, I could not keep this passing ray to myself.

The girl was right in front of me, but she didn’t seem to notice anyone around her. Looked, without looking; The intoxicated, involuntary smile dried on his lips, as if thinking of an absent person – it was because of the enchanting horrible eyes, the eyes that seemed to bite Banson, his anxious, surprised, threatening, and promising eyes. I saw and the ray of my life was mingled on these meaningful shiny spheres and was absorbed in the bottom – this fascinating mirror of the whole universe attracted me as far as the human mind is incapable – the oblique eyes of the Turkmen who had a supernatural and intoxicating light, at the same time It frightened and fascinated, as if he had seen with his own eyes terrifying and supernatural sights that not everyone could see;
Prominent cheeks, long forehead, narrow eyebrows, half-open plump lips, lips that looked like they had just been separated from a long warm kiss but were not yet full. Her disheveled black hair wrapped around her moonlit face, and a strand of it clung to her temples – the tenderness of her limbs and the ethereal indifference of her movements indicated her slowness and temporality; Be.

In his black eyes I found the eternal night and the dense darkness I was searching for, and I was immersed in the terrible darkness of its enchantment, it was as if a force was being pulled out of my being, the earth was shaking beneath my feet, and if I had fallen I would have said an unspeakable bag. I was.

I always thought that silence is the best thing, I thought that it is better for a person like Butimar to spread his wings and feathers by the sea and sit alone.

Isn’t a ridiculous story all your life, an incredible and stupid motel?

I thought to myself, “If it is true that everyone has a star in the sky, my star must be far away, dark and meaningless. “Maybe I did not have a star at all!”

Silence and darkness were everywhere again – I did not light my room, I liked to sit in the dark – darkness, this concentrated fluid that seeps everywhere and in everything. I was used to it – it was in the darkness that my lost thoughts, forgotten fears, unbelievable horrible thoughts that I did not know in which corner of my brain was hidden, all revived, walked and tilted my mouth – the corner of the room, Behind the curtain, next to the door, was full of these ugly and threatening thoughts and structures.

I felt a special comfort in throwing away the ideas that had been instilled in me – the only thing that comforted me was that there was no hope after death – the thought of living again scared and bored me – I was still in the world I lived in, Anas I had not taken, the other world is hurting the child? I felt that this world was not for me; They shook your gums and begged and flattered me – the thought of living again scared me and made me tired.

The presence of death does not destroy all fantasies. We are children of death, and it is death that saves us from the deceptions of life, and it is at the bottom of his life that he calls us and calls us to himself – in ages when we still do not understand the language of the people, if sometimes we pause in the game, that is why To hear the sound of death.

My shadow was much bolder and more precise than my real body, my shadow was more real than my being. It’s as if the old Panzer pig, the butcher man, the nun, and the Lakatham woman were all my shadows, the shadows between which I was trapped. I was like an owl at the time, but my moans were stuck in my throat and I was spitting in the form of bloodstains. Maybe the owl has a disease that thinks like me. My shadow on the wall was just like an owl, and it reads my writings carefully with a curved posture. Surely he understood well, only he could understand. I was scared out of the corner of my eye as I looked at myself.

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