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Schiller “Das Mädchen aus der Fremde”

Das Mädchen aus der Fremde

Tal

In einem Tal bei armen Hirten
Erschien mit jedem jungen Jahr,
Sobald die ersten Lerchen schwirrten,
Ein Mädchen, schön und wunderbar.
Sie war nicht in dem Tal geboren,
Man wußte nicht, woher sie kam,
Und schnell war ihre Spur verloren,
Sobald das Mädchen Abschied nahm.

Beseligend war ihre Nähe,
Und alle Herzen wurden weit,
Doch eine Würde, eine Höhe
Entfernte die Vertraulichkeit.

Sie brachte Blumen mit und Früchte,
Gereift auf einer andern Flur,
In einem andern Sonnenlichte,
In einer glücklichern Natur.Beautiful-scenery-of-Saxon-Switzerland-in-Dresden-Germany-03

Und teilte jedem eine Gabe,
dem Früchte, jenem Blumen aus,
Der Jüngling und der Greis am Stabe,
Ein jeder ging beschenkt nach Haus.

Willkommen waren alle Gäste,
Doch nahte sich ein liebend Paar,
Dem reichte sie der Gaben beste,
Der Blumen allerschönste dar.Lena-Hoschek_Dirndl-HELENE_Lupi-Spuma

Friedrich von Schiller (1759-1805)

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Speaking the Murderous and Marvelous – A Brief Tribute to Seamus Heaney

Thom Dawkins's avatarThom Dawkins

ImageThis tribute was originally given at Case Western Reserve University on Friday, August 30th, several hours after learning that Seamus Heaney had passed that morning. 

Poets have a particular way of greeting one another, and it seems to always involve the same question. You’ll hear it at every AWP conference, every poetry reading, and every shady bar where poets have a tendency to gather.

Who do you read?

It’s a variation of the question we’ve been asked to consider today, and that variation makes for a ridiculous question. First of all, the tense of that question is strange – Who DO you read –  and second it ignores the fact that any poet or devoted reader of poetry is at all times reading everything that we can get our hands on.

Or at least we should be.

But no matter who asks the question, I always start with Seamus Heaney…

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Berlin, city of archives

In a Berlin Wunderkammer:-

Helen Finch's avatarHelen Finch

Museum of Industrial Objects

Berlin archives everything

I travelled from the German Literary Archive in Marbach to the archives of the Akademie der Künste in Berlin two weeks ago, making it an August buried in carbon copies, contracts with amendments scrawled on them, occasionally angry letters, random bills and ominous pronouncements from the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit. Archival work is not what I feel trained to do; I started my life in books as a close reader of texts, and that’s still where I feel my skills lie. For Sebald’s Bachelors, I moved beyond text to theory, but for this next project, I am moving beyond text to paratexts and into the dark terrain of biography: trawling through reams of correspondence to try and discover the origins and careers of individual texts.
Every author’s archive is different; Sebald’s is notoriously neatly curated, others are completely exhaustive, others thin and reticent, others random, with…

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A beautiful Poem by Georg Heym

Entblättertem AbendrotGeorg Heym 1887-1912

Meine Seele ist eine Schlange,
Die ist schon lange tot,
Nur manchmal in Herbstesmorgen,
Entblättertem Abendrot
Wachse ich steil aus dem Fenster,
Wo fallende Sterne sind,
Über den Blumen und Kressen
Meine Stirne spiegelt
Im stöhnenden Nächte-Wind.

More at http://ingeb.org/Lieder/

Entblättertem Abendrot2

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The Ramparts of Warsaw

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Russian Stories by Francesc Serés -A Review

imagesRP2This brilliant and varied collection of short stories is the product of a current academic interest in cross-cultural translation. Francisco Guillen Serés is a Catalan professor of Art History from Aragon. A Russophile, he has travelled widely to collect stories from those writing during the past hundred years of Russian history. These have been translated into Catalan and then into English. These unusual and delightful stories, some 21 of them written by 5 writers read fluently and engagingly. They form an informative tapestry of Soviet and post-Soviet life, moving back in time with the older, earlier writers like Bergchenko, who died in the siege of Stalingrad, at the end.  Ranging over mythic and symbolic tales to realistic portrayals of personal relationships; love Trysts in St Petersberg, ferocious bears in the deep heart of the Taiga to the perils of becoming lost in continuous orbit in space. All aspects are impressively recounted.

downloadKP1

In the preface Russian translator, Anastasia Maximova, sets the changing scene in an industrial suburb where she grew up in the 1990s. The esplanade in front of steel blast furnaces is littered with defunct statues of Stalin and Lenin about to be reprocessed. Unforgettable, is her description of the trucked in lines of heads made from incredibly tough alloys. These are so durable that a special technique must be evolved such that the heads must be drilled with holes, and then buried below ground where inserted explosive charges are necessary to blow them apart. Throughout these stories, such descriptions also represent hazardous transitions in Russian society, the effects on individuals are sometimes stultifying, often painful but also meliorated and transformed by generosity, friendship and kindness.

The first two authors, both of whom are women, born in 1967 and 1949 respectively, deal with personal issues against the backdrop of economic failure and authoritarian misrule. In Low Cost Life, Low Cost Love, Ola Yevgueniyeva writes of the sad and drab lives of the ground staff hostesses on the Russian airline, SAS outside St Petersburg. There is a feeling of being unable to attain the attractive standards of the more fortunate western European crews. Even the bus transport to the airfield has hard wooden benches and the roads contain bumps and potholes. This disappointed sadness creeps into relationships with men; low self-esteem leading to lowered expectation of their dates. A sorrowful but somehow poetic realism penetrates this writer’s stories. She writes too of resurgent nobility in St Petersburg’s great houses by the Neva which have survived the revolution, war and famine. In “The Russian Doll’s House” the ardent but impoverished Juri must wait for years distanced from the aristocratic and beautiful Mia. She must marry an oafish industrialist in accordance with her family’s demands. The story is written in a spell bounding, elegant style that brings out the tragedy of restricted, almost unrequited love.51DKTx6AjlL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_SX385_SY500_CR,0,0,385,500_SH20_OU02_

These stories have all been carefully chosen and reminiscent of the language and tradition in which Chekhov and Gorky once wrote. Indeed the book is dedicated to Mikhail Bulgakov. There are tragic-comic stories about the possibility that Elvis might have sung in Red Square, of the last lonely hours of an orbiting spaceman suffering the consequences of yet another system failure. Here then is a parable of a superpower in a state of freefall. The terrible ecological disasters of the Aral Sea and Chernobyl are treated. The latter portraying the return of an old, yet determined, couple to the dangers of an irradiated countryside and how their dutiful daughter is torn between fulfilling their wishes and what she thinks is their imminent demise.

downloadFrancesc SerésAs the tales pass backwards along the brutal path of Soviet history, misplaced idealism and naivety are revealed. “The Russian Road ”  long, hot and dusty finds the exhausted revolutionary Akaki returning the many versts to his home village. When he arrives he finds that among the peasants in the countryside little if anything has changed. His attempts to persuade folk there that in exchange for their potatoes they will receive a transforming new culture are met with astonished disbelief. Curious, thought-provoking and allegorical, Volkov’s “The War against the Voromians” tells of a peculiar area where there is a gravitational field anomaly. The inhabitants are subject to a corresponding increase in weight, have thicker necks and an affection for their homeland. They sadly become subject to state sponsored research and suspicion by the authorities. Population dispersal is forced upon these unfortunate Voromians, victims of external manipulation that seems to prevail in so many of  these accounts.

Kafka once wrote, “A book should become an axe for the frozen sea within us.” This collection, carefully selected, fulfils such a criterion. They have the transformative edge of original writing.

Further details at http://www.lletra.net/en/author/francesc-seres

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Totally Gloomy

Been meaning to get around to reading this interesting book:-

thomaspeebles's avatartomsbooks

  • Anne Applebaum, Iron Curtain:

    The Crushing of Eastern Europe, 1944-1956

               Applebaum.bigger

                Anne Applebaum’s “Iron Curtain: The Crushing of Eastern Europe, 1944-1956,” sheds much light on a dark period, when the brutal Nazi occupation ended in Eastern Europe, only to be replaced by slightly less brutal communist rule.  Although Applebaum  covers the whole of Eastern Europe – the so-called “Eastern block,” those countries outside the Soviet Union that became communist – she concentrates during this 12-year period on Poland, Hungary and East Germany, which she has chosen “not because they were similar but because they were so different” (p.xxxii).  There are also occasional references to Czechoslovakia, Tito’s Yugoslavia, and Bulgaria and Romania.  Despite differences between countries, Applebaum highlights striking similarities among them and thereby provides an incisive overview of the gloomy and oppressive totalitarianism that prevailed across Eastern Europe during the period she covers. 

                Writing for general readers and…

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Concrete, by Thomas Bernhard

Must get around to reading this:-

Lisa Hill's avatarANZ LitLovers LitBlog

ConcreteThomas Bernhard (1931-1989) has no less than six entries in 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die (2006 edition), and now that I’ve read Concrete (1982) I am certainly going to read the others: Correction,  Extinction, Old Masters , Wittgenstein’s Nephew and Yes.   From what I read of his profile at Wikipedia the author is widely considered to be one of the most important German-speaking authors of the postwar era but was Austria’s Bad Boy, continually writing novels and plays that were hyper-critical of Austria and its sacred cows.  But the picture I have of this author from a guest post by Andrej Nicoladis at Winston’s Dad is entirely different:

Bernhard writes about society in collapse: society rotten with dishonesty, corruption and deep-rooted lies. … The narrator of the story is caught up in a fundamental battle with that society … [but eventually realises that] his conflict with society…

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Crying Over Spilt Rilke

If you like books that are written in a very foreign tongue;-

Adam Lauver's avatarThe Narratician

“You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” – Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

I recently came across a used copy of Letters to a Young Poet, which I’ve been meaning to read for a long time now. As I was leafing through it in the book store, I noticed that there was…

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Memories of St Ives

Trip outHere is a photograph from about 1956 or thereabouts. There are only a few local telephones and so Crimson Tours are St Ives 45. This is taken right opposite the slipway just beside what was Hart’s ice-cream parlour and Doble’s Wall. The ladies are clearly waiting to go out on a trip in a charabanc -no longer just a “carriage with wooden benches” but a small motor coach. They are probably a chapel group heading off maybe as far away as Truro. Everyone is clearly looking forward to the prospect including the gentleman side on to the camera. Television is evolving as a flickering bluish device to be seen on small screens in Hollow’s window and too expensive for most people. The coach will actually come down to downalong which is a thriving community about to excercise some folk with the challenge of providing “Bed and Breakfast.

A year or two later day-dreaming on Smeaton’s Pier I was rather suddenly surprised by the arrival from the Bay of troops, probably Marines in DUCKS http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DUKW .Duck Invasion 2

These were approaching the harbour and as the first vessel rounded the end of the pier I managed to get a closer photograph. Just what they were actually doing, I never discovered.

Duck Invasion 1

Commandos, however, were often to be seen in the district-they trained at Commando Ridge on the North Coast near St Just-  where they trained during the War. The next time that service personnel were in evidence was after the Torrey Canyon Disaster. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SS_Torrey_Canyon.

It is only in the last few years I learned more of the various occupations of the town and incursions into the Bay:- The Parliamentry Army,a Slave Ship, The Duke of Monmouth, The Hessians of to the American War of Indepence. Indeed, records from the St Ives Archive Centre furnish an encampment on the Island after a military parade. It was actually a recruiting rally for the DCLI, and they must have gone around the county. It was called Flag Day and took place on Whit Monday, 1899. The photograph is of the 2nd Battalion. Further information available from http://www.stivesarchive.co.uk/

St Ives Camp