Monthly Archives: November 2015

Joseph Roth’s “Letters from Germany”

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This blog post is part of the German Literature Month, hosted by Lizzie (Lizzies Literary Life) and Caroline (Beauty is a Sleeping Cat)

Joseph Roth was not only the author of some of the most remarkable novels of his time, he was also a very prolific journalist who published hundreds of articles in newspapers. In the second half of the 1920s and early 1930s he worked mainly but not exclusively for the Frankfurter Zeitung, the leading liberal newspaper in Germany, one of the few papers that openly supported the Weimar Republic and that was known for its high quality journalism.

Roth was at the time when he worked for the Frankfurter Zeitung the allegedly highest paid journalist in Germany, if not Europe. He owed this not only to his reputation as a novelist but mainly to his brilliant article writing skills. Benno Reifenberg, the editor of the Frankfurter Zeitung made great efforts to keep Roth as a Sonderkorrespondent (special correspondent) in Paris even when that cost the paper who had already a regular correspondent in Paris a lot. Roth, who lived at that period without regular home in the best hotels earned plenty of money, but he spent it also immediately.

Considering the amount of publicist work and also the great qualities of these articles it is worth to read Roth’s journalism. It contains the same outstanding qualities as does his novelistic writing but it is a part of his work that is virtually unknown outside the German-speaking countries. A small collection of well-annotated articles Briefe aus Deutschland (Letters from Germany) is a good example of this part of Roth’s oeuvre. (Almost needless to repeat my mantra that there is no English translation yet.)

Between November 1927 and January 1928 Roth wrote a series of seven articles under the pseudonym Cuneus and published by the Frankfurter Zeitung under the title Letters from Germany. It describes Roth’s impression when he travelled to the Saargebiet, a part of Germany that was after WWI and the Versailles Treaty under a special legal regime. It had an international government formed by representatives of seven countries that was established by the League of Nations, the predecessor of the United Nations and monitored also by troops from many countries, and it was agreed that after a period of 15 years’ international control the citizens of the region should decide if they wanted to become part of Germany, of France, or if they would prolong the Status quo for another 15 years. In the meantime, the real important player in the Saar region was France.

The Saar, a mining and steal producing region was of strategic and economic importance for France and Germany as well and the French used the opportunity that Versailles created to detach this part of Germany that contributed heavily to the production of weapons at least temporarily from Germany and exploit its resources. That was the situation when Roth travelled to the region.

Roth makes a stop in Metz where he meets Hermann Wendel, a socialist German-French publicist and politician and he makes also the acquaintance of one of Wendel’s political adversaries. But his real target is a few kilometres behind the border: the Saar. Roth describes his impression of the city Saarbrücken (by the way my birthplace) after his arrival – the area around the Central Railway Station has changed, but not so much since Roth’s time; it is still an urbanistic mess – , he has a look into shops, talks with the traders, with people in coffee shops, restaurants and beer halls, he goes to the cinema (Murnau’s Faust which he didn’t like a lot), he joins the coal miners for a day and visits the steel factory in Neunkirchen, he attends a worker’s meeting where Alexandra Balabanoff, a Russian socialist and feminist is speaking, he is telling us the story behind the monument for “King” Stumm, the industrialist Carl Ferdinand Freiherr von Stumm-Halberg, who governed his steel factories and his workers very much like an absolutist king and more interesting things.

Roth is filtering the thousands of impressions he has during his trip and is turning them into descriptions that speak vividly of his abilities as a writer. No subject is too small as not to attract his attention, no remark anyone makes is too unimportant as not to put it into an interesting context. Sometimes it is as if we watch a novelist taking notes for his next book, it is all so well written and interesting although it was written for the day – and “the day” in this case was almost 90 years ago. But it is still very fresh thanks to Roth’s great gift as a writer.  

A small example: while sitting in a café mainly frequented by not very wealthy people, Roth is watching some girl or young woman sitting alone at one of the tables. He is writing:

“Manches einsame Mädchen sitzt hier, schon sitzen gelassen oder noch nicht – und zwischen beiden Zuständen ist so wenig Unterschied! … Je länger ich die Frauen und Männer ansehe und vergleiche, desto grösser wird meine Angst, sie könnten sich ineinander verlieben. Wenn sie bald ein paar Männer herangezogen haben, die Mädchen, fang ich an zu weinen. Denn die Liebe könnte noch trauriger ausfallen als das Leben.“

„Some lonely girl is sitting here, already deserted, or not yet – and between both conditions there is so little difference! …The longer I look at the women and the men and compare, the bigger gets my fear that they might fall in love with each other. Soon when the girls have attracted a few men, I will start crying. Because that love could turn out even sadder than life.”

There are many paragraphs I would like to quote, but I will refrain myself with a second and final quote in which Roth is describing his surprise about the interest of people in literature and good books. After meeting a lawyer and later an owner of a department store both with a genuine interest in literature and art, he writes:

“Nirgends sah ich Bürger, deren Beruf es ist, Geld zu verdienen, so leidenschaftlich interessiert für Bücher, Wissenschaft, Kunst, Politik, mit so viel Begabung für Form und Manier und mit so viel Überlegenheit über jenen Matz, in dessen Zeitung sie inserieren müssen. … im Saargebiet treffen Sie noch Menschen, die sich um jede „Neuerscheinung“ kümmern und literarische Zeitschriften lesen, obwohl sie keine Literaten sind. Was mich betrifft, so habe ich zum ersten Male von Angesicht zu Angesicht Leser getroffen, denen ich in keinem Künstlerklub begegnet wäre. Es gibt noch Leser in Deutschland, die nicht schreiben.“

„Nowhere I saw citizens whose profession it is to earn money with such a passionate interest in books, science, art, politics, with so much talent for form and manner and with so much superiority compared to that fellow Matz (a local journalist who used this pseudonym to publish two articles that were denigrating Roth’s writing – T.H.), in whose newspaper they have to advertise…in the Saar you still meet people, who take care of each newly published book and who read literary journals although they are no literati. As for myself, I met for the first time face to face with readers that I could have never met in any artist’s club. There are still readers in Germany, that are not writing. (i.e. outside writers’ circles – T.H.)”

I am glad I read this book about my home region that is very carefully edited. It contains also photos, facsimiles of Roth’s articles and the two articles by “Matz” to which I was referring above, a letter of Roth to Benno Reifenberg and some excerpts from Roth’s diary of that period. An instructive essay by the Germanist Ralph Schock and additional annotations make this small book a real gem.

If you love Joseph Roth and read German, don’t miss his journalistic work; and why not to start with this well-edited small book?!

Joseph Roth

Joseph Roth: Briefe aus Deutschland, Gollenstein, Blieskastel 2008

The quotes by Joseph Roth are translated by Thomas Hübner

© Gollenstein Verlag, 2008
© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Anecdotes about writers: an example

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This blog post is part of the German Literature Month, hosted by Lizzie (Lizzies Literary Life) and Caroline (Beauty is a Sleeping Cat)

One of the by-products of my reading experiences is that I am collecting also anecdotes about writers. Good anecdotes can shed a light on certain aspects of the author’s life or work in a very concise, sometimes even funny way. As an example may the following anecdote serve.

1826, one year after the German author Jean Paul had died, the Morning Chronicle, an English newspaper, published an article The Mirror of Fashion from which I take the following quote:

“The works of JOHN PAUL RICHTER are almost uninteresting to any but Germans, and even to some of them. A worthy German, just before RICHTER’S death, edited a complete edition of his works, in which one particular passage puzzled him. Determined to have it explained at the source, he went to JOHN PAUL himself, and asked him what was the meaning of the mysterious passage. JOHN PAUL’S reply was very German and characteristic. “My good friend,” said he, “when I wrote that passage, God and I knew what it meant. It is possible that God knows it still; but as for me, I have totally forgotten.””

The last two sentences can be considered authentic. They definitely sound very much Jean Paul. (But of course I strongly disagree with the first sentence of the quote as you can easily guess when you read my previous short Jean Paul review.)

© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

An early “Dying Earth” scenario

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This blog post is part of the German Literature Month, hosted by Lizzie (Lizzies Literary Life) and Caroline (Beauty is a Sleeping Cat)

The narrator of this story, a man with a rich imagination, and prone to both bouts of migraine and frequent visions is walking up and down his study for hours. It is New Year’s Eve of 1799, the last day of the 18th century. The writer waits for the return of his wife who is out for a visit to a sick friend, promising that she will be back “still in this century.”

The last day of a year, and even more so the last day of a century is reason for contemplation, but our narrator has again a terrible migraine attack – and suddenly it happens:

after closing his eyes for a while and upon reopening them again he realizes that there is a group of five people, among them a little child in his room and he has no idea who they are or how they entered. The group’s appearance is rather odd, not so much frightening and a dialogue between the narrator and the group is developing that covers most of the story. This dialogue deals mainly with the prospectives for the future. The tone, partly serious, partly humorous keeps a kind of balance that makes us readers wonder what the author is up to. One of the narrator’s guests gets more and more excited and develops a truly apocalyptic scenario for the future that is the climax of this story:

“Es gibt einmal einen letzten Menschen – er wird auf einem Berg unter dem Äquator stehen und herabschauen auf die Wasser, welche die weite Erde überziehen – festes Eis glänzet an den Polen herauf der Mond und die Sonne hängen ausgebreitet und tief und nur blutig über der kleinen Erde, wie zwei trübe feindliche Augen oder Kometen – das aufgetürmte Gewölke strömet eilig durch den Himmel und stürzet sich ins Meer und fährt wieder empor, und nur der Blitz schwebt mit glühenden Flügeln zwischen Himmel und Meer und scheidet sie – Schau auf zum Himmel, letzter Mensch! Auf deiner Erde ist schon alles vergangen – deine großen Ströme ruhen aufgelöset im Meere.”

“There will one day be a last man – he will stand on a mountain under the Equator, and look down upon the waters which welter over the wide earth – firmly from the poles gleams upward the unchangeable ice – the moon and the sun hang broad and bloody over the little earth, like two eyes full of hate. For the earth’s spiral orbit has brought it nearer and nearer to the sun, and the moon’s spiral has enlarged the face with which it looks ever steadfastly toward our planet, and their strong attraction caused the oceans to roll together round the Equator – and then the whole atmosphere with its vapors rushes up from the poles after the water, and still as the attraction increases, a frightful flood of electric fluid pours and swells over all. The clouds, piled up in mountain-towers stream quickly across the sky, and plunge into the sea, and then rush upward again, while the lightning  on burning wings flashes from Heaven to the Ocean and cleaves them asunder. Look up to the Heaven, thou last man! All on thy earth has disappeared – all its rivers have been swallowed up in its sea.” (translation by J.F.C., The Western Messenger, November 1838) 

Believing that midnight is approaching, the uninvited guests are leaving – but it turns out that when the authors wife comes home from her visit it is one hour before midnight. Remarking her husband’s mood, the wife sings and plays on the piano one of his favourite tunes and the usual order of things is re-established. The vision was most probably something only imagined by her husband. 

This short story by Jean Paul Friedrich Richter – known in Germany as Jean Paul only – Die wunderbare Gesellschaft in der Neujahrsnacht (The strange company at New Year’s Eve) is rather typical for this remarkable and not well-known author who wrote in the traditions of Swift and Laurence Sterne and who had a tremendous influence on authors like Hoffmann, de Quincey (who wrote an essay about him) or Arno Schmidt and among the contemporary German authors I could mention Walter Kappacher and Ludwig Harig (who was by coincidence my teacher when I was a first grader) as examples of novelists that are writing in Jean Paul’s tradition.

The story from which I quoted is witty, well-written and despite the bleak quote very entertaining. And it is according to some SF experts most probably the first literary Dying Earth scenario ever published – and thus a kind of predecessor of a certain category of the Science Fiction genre.

Jean Paul lived most of his life in pre-Wagner Bayreuth, but he paid also longer visits to Weimar (Goethe and Schiller were rather distanced, partly because of literary reasons, partly because of the fact that Jean Paul, then a bachelor had several relationships with women which were considered a scandal; Wieland and Herder on the contrary liked him very much), and to Berlin – here he made friends with the Schlegel brothers, Schleiermacher, Fichte, and other important intellectuals.

Jean Paul is a great master of the German language; and he is also a master of the digression – his novels are usually very long because he is a true follower of Laurence Sterne here.

Who wants to discover this literary giant who was standing between Classicism and Romanticism can start with this rather short work that inspired also many famous illustrators (I have a beautiful edition with sketches by Alfred Kubin.). Unfortunately it seems that there is no collection of stories on the market that contains this story in English translation. Why, dear publishers?

A book I can heartily recommend for those with an interest in Jean Paul is Günter de Bruyn’s biography Das Leben des Jean Paul Friedrich Richter (The Life of Jean Paul Frederick Richter), a beautiful dedication by the novelist de Bruyn to his literary ancestor Jean Paul.  I fell a bit under the spell of Jean Paul after I had read this well-researched and brilliantly written book.

A translation of this book and a recent good edition of Jean Paul’s shorter works in English is missing – but who knows, maybe a publisher is already working on it. That would be a great pleasure!

Kubin

Jean Paul: Die wunderbare Gesellschaft in der Neujahrsnacht, dtv, München 1979, ill. by Alfred Kubin

de Bruyn

Günter de Bruyn: Das Leben des Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, S. Fischer, Frankfurt am Main

© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Balkans – full of miracles!

The Balkans – a region full of miracles!
 
For example: because on Saturday Albania celebrates Independence Day, we in Kosovo have a day off – on Friday!

 

Logical, isn’t it?

 

albania
© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Mitsou

“Trouver une chose, c’est toujours amusant; un moment avant elle n’y était pas encore. Mais trouver un chat, c’est inouï! Car ce chat, convenez-en, n’entre pas tout à fait dans votre vie, comme ferait, par exemple, un jouet quelconque tout en vous appartenant maintenant, il reste un peu en dehors, et cela fait toujours: la vie + un chat, ce qui donne, je vous assure, une somme énorme. Perdre une chose, c’est bien triste. Il est à supposer qu’elle se trouve mal, qu’elle se casse quelque part, qu’elle finit dans la déchéance. Mais perdre un chat: non! Ce n’est pas permis.”

“Finding a thing, that‘s always fun; a moment before it was not there yet. But finding a cat, that’s incredible! For this cat, admit it, does not come entirely into your life, as would for example any toy while belonging to you now. It remains a little off, and it always will be: a life + a cat, that adds up to a huge sum, I assure you. Losing a thing is very sad. It has to be assumed that it is in bad condition, that it breaks somewhere, that it ends in decay. But losing a cat: no! That is not allowed.”

A boy finds a stray cat, adopts it and gets more and more attached to it. The two spend a lot of time together and we see them in many everyday situations and small adventures. Then, Mitsou, the cat, disappears again; cats are doing this sometimes, so we don’t need to suspect the worst. But the boy is inconsolable, searches for Mitsou everywhere, but to no avail.

A sad but everyday story of a heartbreaking loss. What makes it extraordinary is the fact that this real-life experience was made into a series of beautiful drawings by the 11-year old boy to whom it happened. Balthasar Klossowski, today known as Balthus, told this story 1919 in 40 drawings that show an already fully accomplished artist. Cats and girls proved to be his lifelong artistic interests. (His brother Pierre was a also a talented painter and a writer.) Stylistically, the drawings resemble woodcuts and a certain influence of the Flemish artist and book illustrator Frans Masereel, who at around the same time published several “novels without words”, can be detected.

Rainer Maria Rilke, who was at that time the lover of Balthus’ mother Baladine, added a foreword in French when Mitsou was first published in 1921 and from which the above quote is taken. Therefore the review is not included in German Literature Month. (Rilke wrote also occasionally poems in French.) 

Mitsou is a very charming and beautiful book. When you love cats or when you just want to enjoy a book with beautiful illustrations, you will like this precious work very much.

Art historian Sabine Rewald, author of the book Balthus: Cats and Girls describes here how she tracked down the surviving complete set of original drawings that were shown for the first time in an exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York not long ago. You can see also some samples of these wonderful drawings when you click on the hyperlink.

The English edition of the book is out of print, but you can find this gem with a bit of luck in antiquarian bookstores or online shops. The French and German editions are still available.

Balthus

Mitsou. Forty Images by Balthus. Preface by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Richard Miller, The Metropolitan Museum of Art/Harry N. Abrams, New York 1984

Sabine Rewald: Balthus: Cats and Girls, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 2013

The Rilke quote in this blog post is translated from French by Thomas Hübner.

© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

News from Retardistan (2)

Facebook: Your algorithm that suggests me to sign up for certain groups is a bit confused – fine. Sometimes I just have a laugh about your inadequate suggestions, and if your paying customers knew that you haven’t got a clue about me and my (and probably millions of other users) preferences in almost all areas of life, your shareholder value would drop by a few billion USD.
 
But that you allow people to form a group that calls for the execution of people with opposing political views, is a scandal. And I am not talking about the Daesh scum bags, I am talking about those Bulgarian citizens that form the group РАЗСТРЕЛ ЗА ВСИЧКИ ПРЕДАТЕЛСКИ КОПЕЛЕТА НА БЪЛГАРИЯ !! (Execution of all treacherous bastards in Bulgaria), a group that is filled with postings of racist, fascist, and xenophobic content – and the name of the group makes it clear what has according to the members to happen with those who are on the hate list of these morons.
 
This is not only hate speech, it is incitement to murder, and that is a crime according to the Bulgarian Criminal Code; a long term prison sentence is prescribed for that. How about that, Prosecutor’s Office – instead of harassing the Marginalia team that calls a racist, fascist and anti-Semite what he is, you should rather go after the proven law offenders that are a member of this group which advocates political murder. There are (at this moment) 1707 of them, all easily to identify. So do your job and bring them to justice! A few years in jail will serve them well.
And Facebook: what about deleting this group and the profiles of people who consider political murder a righteous thing?
© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Broken Glass

A lot of broken glass at work today. The whole car park, entrance doors and windows of the Ministry of Trade and Industry vandalized by “protesters”.

A sad day, but what to expect when even in Parliament elected representatives show their “respect” for democracy and the rule of law by throwing tear gas grenades…

© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Magister Tinius – Priest, Book Collector, Killer

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This blog post is part of the German Literature Month, hosted by Lizzie (Lizzies Literary Life) and Caroline (Beauty is a Sleeping Cat)

The Books Murderer (Der Büchermörder) by Detlef Opitz is a novel that is remarkable for various reasons. It is an extremely well-researched historical novel; it is a novel that tries to resolve the mystery of a series of crimes – including murder – that are all linked to the insane passion of a priest for books; and it is a novel that uses in a most virtuous way probably all existing writing styles in German language from the 18th to the 21th century.

As an additional interesting element there is a “we”-narrator that takes certain liberties in filling in the gaps that the documents that he uses leave in order to tell us the story of his “hero” – and who this “we” is, a single person or indeed a small group of persons the reader will never know for sure. And even if the “hero” really committed those terrible crimes is not absolutely sure…

I am a quite compulsive book buyer and collector myself, and maybe that’s why I am particularly drawn to novels or stories about obsessive book lovers. That was what made The Name of the Rose so appealing to me, that was why I immediately grabbed The House of Paper by Carlos Maria Dominguez when I saw it in a book store some time ago. Peter Kien and Don Quijote belong of course also in this category of book addicts. I even collect news stories from the media about obsessive book lovers, such as the story of the civil servant from Darmstadt (a city where I worked for a few years) who stole about 25,000 books from libraries – not for pecuniary reasons but because of his wish to own a big library himself.

No wonder I stumbled sooner or later over a quote by Arno Schmidt from his The Stony Heart (Das steinerne Herz):

“Ich dachte lange an den Magister Tinius, den Bücherverfallenen, der mit seinem Hammer durch die öden Heiden des Fläming schlich: wenn andere das Geld haben, und er braucht doch die Bücher?!”

“I thought for a long time about Magister Tinius, the book addict, who creeps with his hammer through the barren heaths of the Fläming: if others have the money, but he needs the books?!”

Arno Schmidt, a great expert when it comes to obscure German writers of the 18th and 19th century must have been referring to a real, not an invented person, so I thought. And indeed, the “Neue Pitaval” (“New Pitaval”), a very popular collection of real crime stories that was used as source material by many German authors contains a chilling story about a man who had turned from a small protestant Parish priest to a biblio-maniac, and finally to a criminal and murderer as a result of his insane book love.

Johann Georg Tinius (1764-1846) was a priest in a small town in Saxony who had aspirations to be a writer and scholar and who loved books. So far, so good. But somehow things got out of hand and over the years he bought more and more books and had even to rent a barn for his library. People were getting suspicious: how was it possible that a priest with an income that was a mere pittance could acquire such a vast and expensive book collection? The good priest may have been the beneficiary of a small inheritance and his wife who died comparatively early (some suspected foul play) came from a family with a small wealth; too bad that at that time financial irregularities regarding the budget of the parish church were also becoming obvious and an investigation started. But somehow the priest was able to pledge for “not guilty” and because the final evidence that he was the reason for the sudden disappearance of a certain sum of money from the coffers of the church was missing, he got away – this time.

After his wife had passed away, Tinius hurried to remarry a wealthy wife. And, you guessed correctly, he started immediately to put his wife’s money (much to her dismay) to a good use, i.e. by buying much more books. After his book collection had reached a number of 50,000 to 60,000, he ran again out of money. And almost at the same time, robberies, and even a murder and an attempted murder happened in which everything hinted at the man in black with the book hobby.

Tinius got arrested and the court proceedings lasted almost ten years. His defence strategy was very simple: “I am innocent”. Nevertheless, the evidence was overwhelming and he got a long prison sentence. He lost everything: his wife divorced him, and – much worse for him – his book collection was auctioned off. Even Goethe bought books from the auction!

Tinius used the time in jail to try to prove his innocence; he wrote a short autobiography which is for sure one of the strangest texts of the 19th century, so utterly inadequate is what Tinius has to say about his book addiction and the crimes he had obviously committed.

After twelve years in prison, Tinius was released because of his old age and poor health. He lived another eleven years in obscurity, some distant relatives had taken care of the man in his last years.

As I said already, Opitz’ novel is not only well researched, it is also extremely well written – but the virtuosity of the language may be a reason why it is untranslated so far. Still, I hope this masterpiece will be available one day also to readers who don’t read German.

The author, and that’s a nice irony, had collected a huge library himself in his younger years – but he lost it all in a game of poker. (And if it’s not true, it’s at least well invented.)

Opitz

Detlef Opitz: Der Büchermörder, Eichborn Verlag 2005

 

Johann Georg Tinius: Merkwürdiges und lehrreiches Leben des M. Johann Georg Tinius, Pfarrers zu Poserna in der Inspektion Weißenfels. Von ihm selbst entworfen. Mit einem Essay von Herbert Heckmann, Friedenauer Presse, Berlin 1986 (written 1813)

Julius Eduard Hitzig / Georg Wilhelm Heinrich Häring (eds.): Der Neue Pitaval, Brockhaus, Leipzig 1843

Arno Schmidt: Two Novels: The Stony Heart and B/Moondocks, translated by John E. Woods, Dalkey Archive 1999

Translation of the Arno Schmidt quote by Thomas Hübner

© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Under the Linden Tree

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This blog post is part of the German Literature Month, hosted by Lizzie (Lizzies Literary Life) and Caroline (Beauty is a Sleeping Cat)

Very little is known about the life of Walther von der Vogelweide, the most remarkable German poet before Goethe; neither the birthplace of this troubadour (Minnesinger) – probably in Austria, but maybe also in Northern Italy –  nor his exact years of birth (ca. 1170) and death (ca. 1230) are known. He was obviously the loyal servant of a bishop and was rewarded with an amount of money sufficient for an expensive fur coat once – the only official mentioning of his name in the records and proof of his comparatively elevated social status.

Walther’s poetry is written in Middle High German (Mittelhochdeutsch) which is surprisingly intelligible to modern-day native speakers – especially when you are from Southern Germany or Austria. It covers a number of topics and genres but his love poetry features most prominently. While a big part of it worships an aristocratic, married and therefore inaccessible frouwe from a distance, Walther’s poetry also covers other, to us modern readers more familiar grounds that make his charming poems still very fresh and appealing until this day. I am therefore recommending his works to anyone with a genuine interest in German literature.

In the following Taglied the poet lends his voice to a girl after her spending a night with her lover (most probably a man of higher social status).

Under der linden

Under der linden
an der heide,
dâ unser zweier bette was,
dâ muget ir vinden
schône beide
gebrochen bluomen unde gras.
Vor dem walde in einem tal,
tandaradei,
schône sanc diu nahtegal.

Ich kam gegangen
zuo der ouwe:
dô was mîn friedel komen ê.
Dâ wart ich empfangen
(hêre frouwe!)
daz ich bin sælic iemer mê.
Kust er mich?
Wol tûsentstunt:
tandaradei,
seht wie rôt mir ist der munt.

Dô hete er gemachet
alsô rîche
von bluomen eine bettestat.
Des wirt noch gelachet
inneclîche,
kumt iemen an daz selbe pfat:
bî den rôsen er wol mac,
tandaradei,
merken wâ mir’z houbet lac.

Daz er bî mir læge,
wesse’z iemen
(nu enwelle got!), so schamte ich mich.
Wes er mit mir pflæge,
niemer niemen
bevinde daz, wan er und ich,
und ein kleinez vogellîn:
tandaradei,
daz mac wol getriuwe sîn.

Under the linden tree

Under the linden tree
on the heather,
where we shared a bed
there you may find
lovely together
broken flowers and grass.
Near a forest in a vale,
tandaradei,
beautifully sang the nightingale.

I came to meet him
at the green:
there was my beloved come before.
Such was I received
(Queen of Heaven!)
that I am blessed for evermore.
Did he kiss me?
Perhaps a thousand times and some:
tandaradei,
see how red my mouth has become.

There he had been making
for luxury
a bed from every kind of flower.
It sets to laughing
delightedly
whoever comes upon that bower;
by the roses well one may,
tandaradei,
mark the spot my head once lay.

If someone knew
he lay with me
(may God forbid!), for shame I’d die.
What did he do?
may none but he
ever be sure of that — and I,
and one tiny bird,
tandaradei,
that may well not say a word.

(Translation by Thomas Hübner, after Graeme Dunphy)

Walther von der Vogelweide

For those who read German, I can recommend the edition of Walther’s poetry in the legendary Reclam Universal Edition (bi-lingual, High German/Middle High German), Stuttgart 2013 (“Gedichte – Auswahl”); there is an English edition “Selected Poems of Walther von der Vogelweide: The Minnesinger”, translated by Walter Alison Phillips in 1896 and republished by Cornell University Library in 2009; another more modern translation of the poem in English can be found in Raymond Oliver’s “To Be Plain: Translations from Greek, Latin, French, and German”, Robert L. Barth, 1981

© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Public Intellectual

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This blog post is part of the German Literature Month, hosted by Lizzie (Lizzies Literary Life) and Caroline (Beauty is a Sleeping Cat)

He is probably the most important living German poet, an essayist whose publications are usually a reason for major public discussions, an author of novels, stories, plays, children’s books, a book about mathematics, several poetological books and a scholarly work on Clemens Brentano, the co-author of a poetry automaton, the editor of the famous book series Andere Bibliothek, the founder of the Kursbuch, for a long time Germany’s most important journal for political debates, and of Transit, another important journal, a film regisseur, a librettist, a congenial translator from French (Moliere, Denis Diderot, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Jean de la Varende), Italian (Franco Fortini), Spanish (Cesar Vallejo, Federico Garcia Lorca), English (William Carlos Williams, Charles Simic, Stanley Moss), Hungarian (Gyorgy Dalos), and Swedish (Lars Gustafsson), amongst others, and and and…It is impossible to write about him in a few lines.

Hans Magnus Enzensberger (born 1929) is the public intellectual par excellence, a very urban and unique figure in German literature. 

Fortunately quite a number of his books are available in translations, and a new poetry collection (New Selected Poems) has just been published – so maybe this is a good opportunity to discover at least the poet Enzensberger for now. Here are three exemplary poems in German and English translation:

ins lesebuch für die oberstufe

lies keine oden, mein sohn, lies die fahrpläne:
sie sind genauer. roll die seekarten auf,
eh es zu spät ist. sei wachsam, sing nicht.
der tag kommt, wo sie wieder listen ans tor
schlagen und malen den neinsagern auf die brust
zinken. lern unerkannt gehn, lern mehr als ich:
das viertel wechseln, den paß, das gesicht.
versteh dich auf den kleinen verrat,
die tägliche schmutzige rettung. nützlich
sind die enzykliken zum feueranzünden,
die manifeste: butter einzuwickeln und salz
für die wehrlosen. wut und geduld sind nötig,
in die lungen der macht zu blasen
den feinen tödlichen staub, gemahlen
von denen, die viel gelernt haben,
die genau sind, von dir.

In a College Textbook

don’t read odes, my son, read timetables:
they are more exact, unroll the sea-charts
before it is too late, be on guard, don’t sing.
the day will come again when they paste blacklists upon the door
and place their mark on the no-sayers,
learn to pass unidentified, learn more than I:
how to change your living quarters, passport, face.
understand the small betrayal,
the sordid daily escape, useful
are the wide-spread fire starters,
the manifestoes: wrapped-up butter and salt
for the defenseless. anger and endurance are necessary
to blow a fine deadly dust 
into the lungs of power, ground up
by those such as you who have learned much
and are fastidious in their ways.

Translated by Jim Doss, Loch Raven Review, Summer 2008

Privilegierte Tatbestände

Es ist verboten, Personen in Brand zu stecken.

Es ist verboten, Personen in Brand zu stecken,
die im Besitz einer gültigen Aufenthaltsgenehmigung sind.

Es ist verboten, Personen in Brand zu stecken,
die sich an die gesetzlichen Bestimmungen halten und im Besitz einer gültigen Aufenthaltsgenehmigung sind.

Es ist verboten, Personen in Brand zu stecken,
von denen nicht zu erwarten ist, daß sie den Bestand und die Sicherheit der Bundesrepublik Deutschland gefährden.

Es ist verboten, Personen in Brand zu stecken,
soweit sie nicht durch ihr Verhalten dazu Anlaß geben.

Es ist insbesondere auch Jugendlichen,
die angesichts mangelnder Freizeitangebote und in Unkenntnis der einschlägigen Bestimmungen sowie aufgrund von Orientierungsschwierigkeiten psychisch gefährdet sind, nicht gestattet, Personen – ohne das Ansehen der Person – in Brand zu stecken.

Es ist mit Rücksicht auf das Ansehen der Bundesrepublik Deutschland im Ausland davon abzuraten.

Es gehört sich nicht.

Es ist nicht üblich.

Es sollte nicht zur Regel werden.

Es muß nicht sein.

Niemand ist dazu verpflichtet.

Es darf niemandem zum Vorwurf gemacht werden,
wenn er es unterläßt, Personen in Brand zu stecken.

Jedermann genießt ein Grundrecht auf Verweigerung.

Entsprechende Anträge sind an das zuständige Ordnungsamt zu richten.

Nota bene. Wer diesen Text in eine andere Sprache überträgt, wird gebeten, an Stelle der Bundesrepublik Deutschland versuchsweise die offizielle Bezeichnung seines eigenen Landes einzusetzen. Diese Fußnote sollte auch in der Übersetzung stehen bleiben.

Privileged Facts of the Case

It is forbidden to set people on fire.

It is forbidden to set people on fire in possession
of a valid green card.

It is forbidden to set people on fire who uphold
the laws and are in possession of a valid green card.

It is forbidden to set people on fire who
are not thought to endanger the continuance
and security of the United States of America.

It is forbidden to set people on fire who do not
arouse suspicion with their behavior.

This particularly applies to youngsters who, in view
of the lack of leisure opportunities and their ignorance
of the relevant regulations or because
of difficulties in orientation are psychologically endangered,
are forbidden to set people on fire they do not respect.

In consideration of the reputation of the United States of America
abroad it is urgently advised against.

It isn’t proper.

It isn’t normal.

It shouldn’t become the rule.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

No one is obligated.

No one will be reproached if they decline
to set a person on fire.

Each enjoys a fundamental right to refuse.

Suitable applications are to be submitted
to the Municipal Office of Public Order.

Translated by Jim Doss, Loch Raven Review, Summer 2008

John von Neumann

1903 – 1957

Doppelkinn, Mondgesicht, leichtes Watscheln –
das muß ein Komiker sein
oder ein Generalvertreter in Teppichböden,
ein Bonvivant aus dem Rotary Club.

Aber wehe, wenn Jánsci aus Budapest
anfängt zu denken!
Unerbittlich tickt unter der Schädeldecke
sein weicher Prozessor,
ein Flimmern geht durch den Datenspeicher
und blitzartig wirft er ballistische Gleichungen aus.

Eichmann und Stalin hat er mattgesetzt
in drei Zügen: Göttingen-Cherbourg,
Cherbourg-New York, New York-Princeton.
Erster Klasse verließ er die Todeszone.

Mehr brauchte er nicht als vier Stunden Schlaf,
reichlich Schlagobers auf den Mohnstrudel
und ein paar Bankkonten in der Schweiz.

Auch wer nie von ihm gehört hat
(und das sind die meisten),
der setzt mit der Maus in der Hand
seine Schaltalgebra in Gang.
Und was die Künstliche Intelligenz betrifft –
ohne die seinige wäre sie vielleicht heute noch
ein Wechselbalg ohne Adresse.

Ganz egal, ob es um eine Knobelpartie
oder um einen Hurrikan geht,
um fruchtbare Automaten oder um Schußtabellen,
die Kreide in seiner Hand hinkt hinterher –
so schnell ist sein neuronales Netz.

Manisch kritzelt er Hilbert-Räume,
Ringe und Ideale hin. Unbeschränkt
operiert er mit unbeschränkten Operatoren.
Hauptsache: elegante Lösungen,
um den Planeten zum Tanzen zu bringen.

Ein altes Wunderkind mit Schnittstelle zum Geheimdienst.
Wummernd landen die Helikopter auf seinem Rasen.
»Fat Man« auf Nagasaki: reine Mathematik.
Der Krieg als Droge. Eine zu große Waffe
kann es nicht geben. Immer gut gelaunt

beim Lunch mit den Admirälen.

Eigentlich ist er schüchtern, und es gibt Rätsel,
vor denen seine Black Box versagt.
Die Liebe zum Beispiel,
die Dummheit, die Langeweile.

Pessimismus = Sünde gegen die Wissenschaft.
Energie aus der Dose, Klimakontrolle, ewiges Wachstum!
Island in ein tropisches Paradies zu verwandeln –
kein Problem. Der Rest ist nebbich.

Dann der Betriebsausflug auf eine andere Insel,
im Zweireiher, mit geschwärzter Brille: Bikini.
»Operation Wendepunkt.« Der Test war gelungen.
Zehn Jahre brauchte der Strahlenkrebs,
um seine Synapsen abzuschalten.

John von Neumann (1903–1957)

Moon face, double chin, waddling gait:
a stand-up comedian, most likely,
or a salesman for fitted carpets,
bon vivant from the Rotary Club.

But as soon as he starts to think
watch out for Jáncsi from Budapest!
The soft processor under his skull-cap
will relentlessly tick away,
and with a mere flicker of his memory chip
he will produce a rush of ballistic equations.

In three moves he checkmated Eichmann and Stalin:
Göttingen-Cherbourg, Cherbourg-New York,
New York-Princeton. First Class
he escaped from the Final Solution.

All he needs is four hours’ sleep,
plenty of whipped cream on his Viennese strudel
and a couple of Zürich bank accounts.

Even those who have never heard of him
(and most of us haven’t)
switch with a click of the mouse
into his algebraic circuitry.
Without his own brand of it,
Artificial Intelligence
might never have got off the ground.

Whether it’s a question of playing dice
or detailing a hurricane — you name it..
self-fertilising automata or firing-tables
the piece of chalk in his hand
will lag behind the speed of his mind.

A maniac scribbling down Hilbert spaces,
rings and ideals, operating beyond all limits
with unlimited operators. A few new ideas,
he says, and we could jiggle the planet.

An elderly wunderkind with an interface
to the CIA. Helicopters roaring down on his lawn.
‘Fat Man’ on Nagasaki: pure mathematics.
War is his cocaine. There is no such thing
as too big a weapon. Always in high spirits,
lunching with admirals.

A shy fellow at heart. Mysteries
his black box cannot cope with.
Love, for example,
stupidity, boredom.

Pessimism = a sin against science.
Energy out of the can, climate control,
eternal growth! To turn Iceland
into a tropical paradise — no problem!
The rest is nebbich.

Finally: staff outing to another island,
in business suit and blackened glasses,
Bikini. ‘Operation Turning-point’.
The test was successful. The cancer from the radiation
took ten years to turn off his synapses.

Translated by Hans Magnus Enzensberger

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Several collections (most of them bi-lingual) of Enzensberger’s poems are available in English:

Hans Magnus Enzensberger: Selected Poems, bi-lingual edition, translated by Hans Magnus Enzensberger, Michael Hamburger, Fred Viebahn and Rita Dove, Sheep Meadow Press, Rhineback 1999; Kiosk, bi-lingual edition, translated by Hans Magnus Enzensberger and Michael Hamburger, Sheep Meadow Press, Rhineback 1999; Lighter Than Air, bi-lingual edition, translated by Reinhold Grimm, Sheep Meadow Press, Rhineback 2000; New Selected Poems, bi-lingual edition, translated by Hans Magnus Enzensberger, Michael Hamburger and David Constantine, Bloodaxe Books, Hexham 2015

© Hans Magnus Enzensberger and Suhrkamp Verlag, 1957ff.
© Jim Doss and Loch Raven Review, 2008
© Hans Magnus Enzensberger and Bloodaxe Books, 2015
© Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com, 2014-5. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Thomas Hübner and mytwostotinki.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.