In the Country of Lost Things
Sunday, 20. April 2008, 10:43:07
A few days ago I finnished reading "The Country of Last Things" written by Paul Auster.
I spent more then the usual amount of time reading this book (about 190 pages) because it was surprisingly difficult to read...
But lets get to the details:
A City where nothing remains - nothing. You can take nothing for granted, every aspect of the city changing so fast you can never be sure what is awaiting you when you turn around the next corner - except death. So much for the city itself - a living breathing structure crumbling into oblivion,like everything in the city itself.
But somehow I really was fascinated by this city- I don't know if you've ever seen "I am legend". The story itself did not impress me but the scenery was brilliant. A vast city, a monument of our civiliziation, deserted.
But the city in Paul Austers novel is not deserted. In this city everything, everyone is struggling against the curse of oblivion.
And the pictures he has drawn by writing about this city are quite impressive. I've found myself wandering through this city and beeing fascinated by the vivid image I could create of it.
That one goes to Paul Auster, he really got me
Well actually there is more behind it, I forgot to tell you about the story of Anna Blume but I don't want to give it all to you...
So maybe one or another was caught by my "review" and is going to read the novel or already has read it.
If so please be sure to leave behind your comment, I'd appreciate it.
I spent more then the usual amount of time reading this book (about 190 pages) because it was surprisingly difficult to read...
But lets get to the details:
A City where nothing remains - nothing. You can take nothing for granted, every aspect of the city changing so fast you can never be sure what is awaiting you when you turn around the next corner - except death. So much for the city itself - a living breathing structure crumbling into oblivion,like everything in the city itself.
But somehow I really was fascinated by this city- I don't know if you've ever seen "I am legend". The story itself did not impress me but the scenery was brilliant. A vast city, a monument of our civiliziation, deserted.
But the city in Paul Austers novel is not deserted. In this city everything, everyone is struggling against the curse of oblivion.
And the pictures he has drawn by writing about this city are quite impressive. I've found myself wandering through this city and beeing fascinated by the vivid image I could create of it.
That one goes to Paul Auster, he really got me
Well actually there is more behind it, I forgot to tell you about the story of Anna Blume but I don't want to give it all to you...
So maybe one or another was caught by my "review" and is going to read the novel or already has read it.
If so please be sure to leave behind your comment, I'd appreciate it.
btw, if you like that style, try Auster's The New York Trilogy.
By vivalamuerte, # 21. April 2008, 16:26:56
Ein Gedicht von Kurt Schwitters (von 1919):
An Anna Blume
Oh Du, Geliebte meiner 27 Sinne, ich liebe Dir!
Du, Deiner, Dich Dir, ich Dir, Du mir, ---- wir?
Das gehört beiläufig nicht hierher!
Wer bist Du, ungezähltes Frauenzimmer, Du bist, bist Du?
Die Leute sagen, Du wärest.
Laß sie sagen, sie wissen nicht, wie der Kirchturm steht.
Du trägst den Hut auf Deinen Füßen und wanderst auf die Hände,
Auf den Händen wanderst Du.
Halloh, Deine roten Kleider, in weiße Falten zersägt,
Rot liebe ich Anna Blume, rot liebe ich Dir.
Du, Deiner, Dich Dir, ich Dir, Du mir, ----- wir?
Das gehört beiläufig in die kalte Glut!
Anna Blume, rote Anna Blume, wie sagen die Leute?
Preisfrage:
1. Anna Blume hat ein Vogel,
2. Anna Blume ist rot.
3. Welche Farbe hat der Vogel?
Blau ist die Farbe Deines gelben Haares,
Rot ist die Farbe Deines grünen Vogels.
Du schlichtes Mädchen im Alltagskleid,
Du liebes grünes Tier, ich liebe Dir!
Du Deiner Dich Dir, ich Dir, Du mir, ---- wir!
Das gehört beiläufig in die ---- Glutenkiste.
Anna Blume, Anna, A----N----N----A!
Ich träufle Deinen Namen.
Dein Name tropft wie weiches Rindertalg.
Weißt Du es Anna, weißt Du es schon,
Man kann Dich auch von hinten lesen.
Und Du, Du Herrlichste von allen,
Du bist von hinten, wie von vorne:
A------N------N------A.
Rindertalg träufelt STREICHELN über meinen Rücken.
Anna Blume,
Du tropfes Tier,
Ich-------liebe-------Dir!
By anonymous user, # 21. April 2008, 18:52:20
By snowburn, # 21. April 2008, 21:04:21