Categories
German Matters Literature Penwith Poetry St Ives

Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen (Heute und Damals)

This poem by Heinrich Heine is simple and clever. It is maybe the kind of poem to which Karl Krauss might have taken exception. It has also been set to music by Robert Schumann in Dichterliebe, op. 48 Nr. 11.

Ein Jüngling liebt ein Mädchen,
Die hat einen Andern erwählt;
Der Andre liebt eine Andre ,
Und hat sich mit dieser vermählt.

Das Mädchen heiratet aus Ärger
Den ersten besten Mann,
Der ihr in den Weg gelaufen;
Der Jüngling ist übel dran.

Es ist eine alte Geschichte,
Doch bleibt sie immer neu;
Und wem sie just passieret,
Dem bricht das Herz entzwei.

It is analysed in German at https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ein_J%C3%BCngling_liebt_ein_M%C3%A4dchen where they comment  DasMetrum ist nicht regelmäßig, es wechselt ständig zwischen Jamben und Anapästen. Männliche und weiblicheKadenzen wechseln sich hingegen ab, wobei es sich beim ersten Vers der jeweiligen Strophe immer um eine weibliche Endung handelt. This might be translated:-

The meter is not regular and alternates between iambs and anapests. Masculine and feminine cadences are interwoven and the first verse of each stanza  always has  a feminine ending.GE

For some reason this reminded me of one of the amusing poems by Gavin Ewart whom I heard one delightful evening during the St Ives Festival at the Penwith Gallery in the early nineties. The poem is called “Office Politics”.

Eve is madly in love with Hugh
And Hugh is keen on Jim.
Charles is in love with very few
And few are in love with him.

Myra sits typing notes of love
With romantic pianist’s fingers.
Dick turns his eyes to the heavens above
Where Fran’s divine perfume lingers.

Nicky is rolling eyes and tits
And flaunting her wiggly walk.
Everybody is thrilled to bits
By Clive’s suggestive talk.

Sex suppressed will go berserk,
But it keeps us all alive.
It’s a wonderful change from wives and work
And it ends at half past five.

An obituary for Gavin Ewart appears here-http://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/obituary-gavin-ewart-1579164.html  Also this video by Ewart is wryly amusing too:-

Categories
Book Reviews German Matters Literature

Jonathan Franzen’s Rage -Reviewing Philip Weinstein

Jonathan Franzen: The Comedy of Rage makes frequent mention of Franzen’s attendance at Swathmore College in Pennsylvania, where he graduated in 1977 and where the author, Philip Weinstein was, until last year Professor of English. An earlier graduate, the novelist James A. Michner left his entire estate of some 10 million dollars to the college and the proceeds from his works, including the one on which South Pacific was founded. It was at Swarthmore that Franzen met his wife, where she had been a gifted classmate. Weinstein, the author who teaches there, has personally known Franzen for over two decades and the latter has given him a personal interview and been otherwise in contact with him for some considerable time. If this all seems just a little blurred in its boundaries, not to say incestuous, then that might not matter. However, Franzen’s work closely concern itself with shame, guilt, incest, rage and humiliation.

JF1

This book strives to relate Franzen’s fraught personal life with his novels and his journalism for the New Yorker. Weinstein has recently published an acclaimed work, Becoming Faulkner which may be loosely termed a psycho-biography connecting that writer’s life with his work. The tone of this work, is reminiscent of the films; Tom and Viv about T.S.Eliot’s disastrous marriage and also Sylvia, about the difficult relationship between Plath and Ted Hughes. Brought up in Webster Groves in St Louis, Franzen appears to have lived in fear of his earnest and ambitious parents. His father was taciturn and averse to expressing feelings. Franzen also had difficulties with his mother, who was engulfing, over-demanding and inappropriately needy of her son. The suicide of a close friend and literary rival, David Foster Wallace was later to add to Franzen’s sense of alienation.

However, it appears that the sensitive Franzen immersed himself in his studies in German, finding his tutor a supportive and friendly figure. However, travelling to Munich and Berlin, the latter on a Fulbright scholarship, he became focussed on two complex writers; Kafka and Kraus. In accordance with Weinstein’s general thesis on his subject’s struggles with father figures, Franzen became fascinated with Kraus and also with the latter’s literary struggles with Heinrich Heine. According to Krauss who was Jewish but later converted, Heine, another cosmopolitan Jew was responsible for downgrading journalism with fancy French inventions like the popular newspaper supplement or Feuilleton. In a characteristic leap, these products of a superficial Viennese scribbling around a hundred years ago are compared, by Franzen, with the dumb-down products of social networking.  Franzen is concerned to re-educate his public with hard reading. His latest novel at 563 pages-shorter than those of say, Robert Musil or Thomas Mann-but scarcely a snip!JF2

Weinstein is most concerned with explaining Franzen’s development as a novelist. His first novel, The Twenty-Seventh City concerned itself with the decline and corruption in his home city, St Louis and his next novel about earthquakes in north-eastern Massachusetts. It appears that Franzen held somewhat overblown expectations that were perhaps based on an unmoderated and explosive rage now exacerbated by a failed marriage. Interestingly and simultaneously, another of his self-stylisations was as a kind of Charlie Schultz figure. His writing appears to have undergone a change upon the death of his father, his distressing relationship and also as his recognition that his own inappropriate literary role models, particularly Thomas Pynchon were unsuited to what he discovered he was best at writing. It also might be true to say, although Weinstein does not appear to explicitly say it, Franzen was publicly analysing his writing, almost as John Clare put it in lines-also taken by T.S.Eliot, “the self-consumer of my woes”. In any event, with the use of humour sometimes manic, Franzen was able to focus more productively on the anger within the family, generated from the past, and to enrich his narrative. There then follows an increased concern to involve the reader, to keep him interested and to keep him reading.

JF4

In his next book, The Corrections, Franzen dealt with the impact on his family of Alfred’s irreversible dementia. Alfred is essentially a personification of Franzen’s father. The book’s title is therefore ironic. However, Weinstein insists, that in this and later books greater recognition is given to his character’s identities and to allow them some freedom to develop. Weinstein goes on to discuss Franzen’s recently published book, Purity. Reviews of this book which praise both its entertainment value and its seriousness. They also mention that it makes allusions to Great Expectations. It also concerns itself with the Occupy Movement, state secrets and whistle-blowing.

Reading this book, I found myself wondering who might find it useful. Possibly students of American literature. However, the writing lacks clarity in places and sometimes sentences are so gnomic as to lack any sense. The account is repetitious and somewhat forlorn. Much reference has been made to Freud but little to the insights of his followers. I am sorry to say that I am unsure that Franzen’s popularity will benefit greatly from Weinstein’s book. Nonetheless, this is a brave attempt to address the work of a writer of considerable contemporary relevance.

For those who are interested in the Kraus Project and Vienna (again!) will enjoy the discussion at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5SPtKK2NPk

This Newsnight interview is also worth viewing; amongst other issues he discusses his latest novel https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGIrNN0k7iU

 

 

Categories
Art and Photographic History German Matters Literature West Cornwall (and local history)

The Woman in Gold

I watched and thoroughly enjoyed but was also saddened by this brilliant film viewed as a DVD last night. I visited Vienna in October last year including the Belvedere. The first posters I saw going down into the U-bahn in Munich. Although the places and the actors too were sort of familiar as was the historical context, for instance from reading Eva Menase http://www.goethe.de/ins/au/lp/prj/bkm/rev/aut/men/enindex.htm and George Klaar http://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/george-clare-memoirist-who-recalled-life-in-nazi-vienna-and-postwar-berlin-1726060.html

20141009_104321

The Jewish life in Vienna was so evocatively and poignantly rendered that it brought tears to my eyes. The music was interesting too for obvious reasons and the director’s commentary equally moving. Hence it was particularly interesting to discover in the Penwith Gallery to discover the work of Albert Reuss, who not only was in Vienna at this time but ended his life in Truro having lived in Mousehole nearby. Further info at http://www.artistsandart.org/2010/01/albert-reuss-1889-1976-austrian-artist.html

http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/yourpaintings/artists/albert-reuss

Wig3

The film is also useful for people learning German as the Untertitel in English are so klein!!!

(This article also provides an opportunity to refer to my friend, Susan Soyinka on her family and researches at https://susansoyinka.wordpress.com/)

(c) Newlyn Art Gallery; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
(c) Newlyn Art Gallery; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
Categories
Classics German Matters Literature

Fassbinder’s Effi Briest 1977

13dac8148cf086995776c8f80db142891de0180eTheodor Fontane wrote his novel in 1894-5 and it was first serialised in Deutsche Rundshau https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deutsche_Rundschau and appeared as a novel ln book form in 1896. So far, I have only been able to read it in German in an abridged but excellent edition published by ELi Lektueren. It is a fascinating novel which treats with sensitivity the downfall of a young and imaginative girl, a “Naturkind” subject to the stifling and formal Prussian society. It also deals with various other themes and feelings which are discussed at length at https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Effi_Briest

There are also interesting film clips on You Tube. The plot is explained in 11 minutes at at

and the clip, giving some feeling of Fassbinder’s extraordinary film may be found st

Just as the book echoes with comparisons to Emma Bovary (1857) and with Anna Karennina(1877) in its poetic realism so the filming by Fassbinder in black and white has dream resonances that makes the whole film so evocative. It is not surprising that the filming took some two years nor that Hanna Schygulla.20151018_19292620151018_20205220151018_20270820151018_204629 (1)

Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry

September-Hermann Hesse

images

September

Der Garten trauert,
kühl sinkt in die Blumen der Regen.
Der Sommer schauert
still seinem Ende entgegen.

Golden tropft Blatt um Blatt
nieder vom hohen Akazienbaum.
Sommer lächelt erstaunt und matt
in den sterbenden Gartentraum.

Lange noch bei den Rosen
bleibt er stehn, seht sich nach Ruh.
Langsam tut er die großen,
müdgewordenen Augen zu.

(Hermann Hesse, 1927)

The part of this poem which interests me, as I seek to improve my German, is at the end of the 2nd verse. “Sommer lächelt erstaunt und matt” –erstaunt suggests amazement but carries the feeling of marvelling as well. It has the feeling perhaps of being suddenly halted or cut short. matt can mean faint, soft and even languid. Gartenraum is simply within the space of the garden and of course nicely rhymes with Akazienbaum. I am completely taken with müdgewordenen and finishes the poem sweetly.

Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry

‘August’ by Eric Kästner

Der August
Erich KästnerKae1

Nun hebt das Jahr die Sense hoch
und mäht die Sommertage wie ein Bauer.
Wer sät, muss mähen.
Und wer mäht, muss säen.
Nichts bleibt, mein Herz. Und alles ist von Dauer.

Stockrosen stehen hinterm Zaun
in ihren alten, brüchigseidnen Trachten.
Die Sonnenblumen, üppig, blond und braun,
mit Schleiern vorm Gesicht, schaun aus wie Frau’n,
die eine Reise in die Hauptstadt machten.

Wann reisten sie? Bei Tage kaum.
Stets leuchteten sie golden am Stakete.
Wann reisten sie? Vielleicht im Traum?
Nachts, als der Duft vom Lindenbaum
an ihnen abschiedssüß vorüberwehte?

In Büchern liest man groß und breit,
selbst das Unendliche sei nicht unendlich.
Man dreht und wendet Raum und Zeit.
Man ist gescheiter als gescheit, –
das Unverständliche bleibt unverständlich.

Ein Erntewagen schwankt durchs Feld.
Im Garten riecht’s nach Minze und Kamille.
Man sieht die Hitze. Und man hört die Stille.
Wie klein ist heut die ganze Welt!
Wie groß und grenzenlos ist die Idylle …

Nichts bleibt, mein Herz. Bald sagt der Tag Gutnacht.
Sternschnuppen fallen dann, silbern und sacht,
ins Irgendwo, wie Tränen ohne Trauer.
Dann wünsche Deinen Wunsch, doch gib gut acht!
Nichts bleibt, mein Herz. Und alles ist von Dauer.Kae4
 
 
Now, the year the Sense picks her up
and mows the summer days as a farmer.
 He who sows, must mow.
 And who mows must sow.
 Nothing remains, my heart.
 And everything is permanent.
Hollyhocks stand behind the fence
in their old, slender thread costumes.
The sunflowers, lush, blonde and brown
with veiled faces looking like ladies
making a trip to the County town

When did they travel? In a few days
They always shone golden in the stockades.
When did they travel? Maybe in a dream?
At night, as the scent of linden tree
blew sweet farewells over them?

In books it is clearly stated,
even the infinite is not infinite.
It twists and turns space and time.
It is cleverer than clever -and
the incomprehensible is incomprehensible.

A harvest wagon rumbles across the field.
And the garden smells of mint and chamomile.
One even sees the heat. And you can hear the silence.
How small the world appears today!
How great and boundless and idyllic …

Nothing remains, dear heart. Soon the day good night says.
meteors fall then, silver and gently,
into somewhere, like tears without sadness.
Then wish your wish, but pay close attention!
Nothing remains, my heart. And everything is permanent.

 

Kae3

Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry

Rilke- Liebeslied

Liebes-Lied

Violin1

Wie soll ich meine Seele halten, daß
sie nicht an deine rührt? Wie soll ich sie
hinheben über dich zu andern Dingen?
Ach gerne möcht ich sie bei irgendwas
Verlorenem im Dunkel unterbringen
an einer fremden stillen Stelle, die
nicht weiterschwingt, wenn deine Tiefen schwingen.
Doch alles, was uns anrührt, dich und mich,
nimmt uns zusammen wie ein Bogenstrich,
der aus zwei Saiten eine Stimme zieht.
Auf welches Instrument sind wir gespannt?
Und welcher Geiger hat uns in der Hand?
O süßes Lied.

Aus: Neue Gedichte (1907)

 

Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry

Über die Bezeichnung Emigranten-Brecht (1937)

Über die Bezeichnung Emigranten

Maurycy Minkowski "The Family"1927
Maurycy Minkowski “The Family”1927

Immer fand ich den Namen falsch, den man uns gab:
Emigranten.
Das heißt doch Auswandrer. Aber wir
Wanderten doch nicht aus, nach freiem Entschluss
Wählend ein andres Land. Wanderten wir doch auch nicht
Ein in ein Land, dort zu bleiben, womöglich für immer
Sondern wir flohen. Vertriebene sind wir, Verbannte.
Und kein Heim, ein Exil soll das Land sein, das uns da
aufnahm

Unruhig sitzen wir so, möglichst nahe den Grenzen
Wartend des Tags der Rückkehr, jede kleinste Veränderung
Jenseits der Grenze beobachtend, jeden Ankömmling
Eifrig befragend, nichts vergessend und nichts aufgebend
Und auch verzeihend nichts, was geschah, nichts verzeihend.
Ach, die Stille der Sunde täuscht uns nicht! Wir hören die
Schreie
Aus ihren Lagern bis hierher. Sind wir doch selber
Fast wie Gerüchte von Untaten, die da entkamen
Über die Grenzen. Jeder von uns
Der mit zerrissenen Schuhn durch die Menge geht
Zeugt von der Schande, die jetzt unser Land befleckt.
Aber keiner von uns
Wird hier bleiben. Das letzte Wort
Ist noch nicht gesprochen.

By Marlene Dumas
By Marlene Dumas

At present there is much discussion over emigration/immigration and this rather beautiful poem was written by Brecht upon his partial escape from the Nazis in 1937 into Denmark. He states that, he always finds the name emigrant a false term as it is not through free will that he is forced to escape but for survival. This might remind us too that many journeys are made out of necessity; choice does not come into the matter. “Vertriebene sind wir”- we are in fact expelled! In such a state, people are innocent and eager to ask each new arrival across the border and question each new arrival coming across the border. The overbearing silence of an authoritarian regime does not hide, “Wir hören die Schreie” the cries of pain from the lost homeland. As we pass dressed in rags and  tatters through the crowds, testifies to the disgrace that stains our land right now. However, it appears that the poem ends with hope- “Das letzte Wort
Ist noch nicht gesprochen.” -the last word is yet to be spoken. Tyranny will be defeated.

The poem is thoroughly and clearly analysed  in German –

Weitere Informationen, Links und Buchtipps findet Ihr auf unserem Blog:
http://deutschstundeonline.blogspot.com/

 

Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry

Crossing the Water by Sylvia Plath (Übers Wasser)

SylviaBlack lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.

A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.

Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;

Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.

Now available in German see http://www.welt.de/print/die_welt/literatur/article123763734/Fuehrt-kein-Weg-aus-dem-Kopf-heraus.htmlsylvia-plath

Übers Wasser

Schwarzer See, schwarzes Boot, zwei schwarze

Scherenschnitt-Menschen.

Wohin führen die schwarzen Bäume, die hier trinken?

Ihre Schatten müssen ganz Kanada bedecken.

Ein wenig Licht filtert sich aus den Wasserpflanzen.

Ihre Blätter fordern uns nicht zur Eile auf.

Sie sind rund und flach und voll dunklen Rats.

Kalte Welten zittern vom Ruder.

Der Geist der Schwärze ist in uns, er ist in den Fischen.

Ein Baumstumpf hebt Abschied nehmend die blasse Hand.

Sterne öffnen sich zwischen den Seerosen.

Bist du nicht geblendet von solch tonlosen Sirenen?

Dies ist die Stille erstaunter Seelen.

Les Champignons” [“Mushrooms” (1959) – nouvelle traduction en français]

Categories
Literature Poetry

Flair by Elaine Feinstein

From yesterday’s Guardian Review (11th April) at http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/apr/11/the-saturday-poem-flair-by-elaine-feinstein

louis_armstrong_by_prie610-d3d9c1q

That whole wet summer, I listened to Louis Armstrong.
Imagined him arriving in New York after Funky Butt
dance halls, wearing hick clothes: those
high-top shoes with hooks, and long
underwear down to his socks.

Thought of him shy in a slick, new band, locked
for two weeks reading the part he was set,
until the night when Bailey on clarinet
took over an old song. Then Louis’ horn
rose in harsh, elated notes,

phrases he’d invented on riverboats
and ratty blues tonks, using all the sinews
of his face and muscle of his tongue.
And what delights me now
is when he grinned to thank

the crowd that stood to clap, he saw
slyly from the corner of his eye
all the stingy players in the band
were sitting motionless, their tribute
only an astonished sigh.

Elaine Feinstein
Elaine Feinstein

From Portraits (Carcanet, £9.99). To order a copy for £7.99 go tobookshop.theguardian.com or call Guardian book service on 0330 333 6846.

Also see at The Guardian http://www.theguardian.com/books/2010/sep/25/cities-elaine-feinstein-ruth-padel