| sexta-feira, maio 05, 2006 |
| "Sebald’s ambivalence" |
"LABYRINTHS OF MEMORY | In essays, fiction and montage W G Sebald tells of the fate of being a European at the end of European civilisation. Is it worth the struggle to unravel his secrets?"
por Madeleine Gustafsson.
na Axess
"W.G. SEBALD (Winfried Georg, Max to his friends—like a lot of other things he disliked his first names) came to fiction late, at the age of 46, after a career as a university teacher and essayist. At his death in 2001 he had worked for more than 30 years at the University of East Anglia in Norwich where he held a chair in modern European literature.
But the boundaries in his writing are not fixed, and not merely between academic works and literature. The titles of his scholarly books and collections of essays are such that they could easily fit into his fiction: a doctoral thesis on Der Mythos der Zerstörung im Werk Döblins (1980), the essay collections Die Beschreibung des Unglücks (1985) and Unheimliche Heimat (1991), both about Austrian writing, as with the posthumous and partly essayistic Campo Santo (2003). We should include among the essays his book about the massive Allied bombing of German cities in the final stages of the Second World War, Luftkrieg und Literatur (1999, in English On the Natural History of Destruction 2003), which was based on a series of lectures Sebald gave in Zürich in 1997. But the book also discusses his own experiences, not of the bombing but of growing up in a country where the cities for many years looked like stone quarries."
(Ver tudo) |
| posted by George Cassiel @ 11:18 da manhã |
|
|
|
|
|
GEORGE CASSIEL
Um blog sobre literatura, autores, ideias e criação.
_________________
"Este era un cuco que traballou durante trinta anos nun reloxo. Cando lle
chegou a hora da xubilación, o cuco regresou ao bosque de onde partira.
Farto de cantar as horas, as medias e os cuartos, no bosque unicamente
cantaba unha vez ao ano: a primavera en punto."
Carlos López, Minimaladas (Premio Merlín 2007)
«Dedico estas histórias aos camponeses que não abandonaram a terra, para encher os nossos olhos de flores na primavera»
Tonino Guerra, Livro das Igrejas Abandonadas |
| |
|
|
