Prose
Günter Grass – Prosa
Prose
Utdrag ur Blecktrumman Swedish Illustration by Günter Grass © Günter Grass & DTV Nu var det emellertid måndagseftermiddag och min mormor satt vid potatiselden. Söndagskjolen hade kommit henne ett steg närmare in på livet medan det plagg som på söndagen hade njutit hennes kroppsvärme nu hängde helt söckent ytterst över hennes höfter. Hon visslade lite,…
moreElias Canetti – Prose
Prose
German Auftritt des Hexenmeisters Wie sehr ich mich verändert hatte, erkannte ich an den Besuchen des Großvaters. Er kam erst nach Zürich, als er mich allein wußte. Die Spannung zwischen ihm und der Mutter war wohl gewachsen, einige Jahre ging er ihr aus dem Weg, aber sie schrieben sich regelmäßig. Während des Krieges bekam er…
moreElias Canetti – Prose
Prose
English The Appearance of the Sorcerer I could tell how much I had changed by my grandfather’s visits. He came to Zurich only when he knew I was alone. The tension between him and Mother must have grown; for several years he avoided her, but they corresponded regularly. During the war, he received postcards telling…
moreV. S. Naipaul – Prose
Prose
English Excerpt from The Enigma of Arrival (Chapter: Jack’s Garden, page: 52-53) To see the possibility, the certainty, of ruin, even at the moment of creation: it was my temperament. Those nerves had been given me as a child in Trinidad partly by our family circumstances: the half-ruined or broken-down houses we lived in, our…
moreV. S. Naipaul – Prose
Prose
Swedish Utdrag ur Ankomstens gåta (sid. 55-57) Till och med i skapandets ögonblick stod insikten om sönderfallet klar för mig; sådan var min läggning. Denna nervösa känslighet präglade mig redan som barn på Trinidad, och den berodde delvis på familjeomständigheter – de halvt förfallna eller nergångna hus vi bodde i, de många flyttningarna, vår allmänna…
moreOrhan Pamuk – Prose
Prose
English Excerpt from Istanbul: Memories of a City (Istanbul: Hatıralar Ve Şehir). Here we come to the heart of the matter: I’ve never left Istanbul – never left the houses, streets and neighbourhoods of my childhood. Although I’ve lived in other districts from time to time, fifty years on I find myself…
moreOrhan Pamuk – Prose
Prose
Turkish Alıntı: Istanbul: Hatıralar Ve Şehir Asıl konuya geldik: Doğduğum günden itibaren, yaşadığım evleri, sokakları, mahalleleri hiç terketmedim. Elli yıl sonra (arada İstanbul’un başka yerlerinde yaşamama rağmen) gene Pamuk Apartmanı’nda, annemin beni kucağına alıp dünyayı ilk gösterdiği ve ilk fotoğraflarımın çekildiği yerde yaşıyor olmamın, İstanbul’un bir başka yerindeki öteki Orhan fikriyle, bu teselliyle bir ilişkisi…
moreHerta Müller – Prose
Prose
German Auszug von Der Mensch ist ein großer Fasan auf der Welt DIE TIEFE STELLE Um das Kriegerdenkmal stehn Rosen. Sie sind ein Gestrüpp. So verwachsen, daß sie das Gras ersticken. Sie blühn weiß, klein zusammengerollt wie Papier. Sie rascheln. Es dämmert. Bald ist es Tag. Windisch zählt jeden Morgen, wenn er ganz…
moreHerta Müller – Prose
Prose
Read the excerpts from The Passport (Der Mensch ist ein großer Fasan auf der Welt) English Excerpts from The Passport THE POT HOLE Around the war memorial are roses. They form a thicket. So overgrown that they suffocate the grass. Their blooms are white, rolled tight like paper. They rustle. Dawn is breaking.…
moreDoris Lessing – Prose
Prose
English Excerpt from The Grass is Singing MURDER MYSTERY By Special Correspondent Mary Turner, wife of Richard Turner, a farmer at Ngesi, was found murdered on the front veranda of their homestead yesterday morning. The houseboy, who has been arrested, has confessed to the crime. No motive has been discovered. It is thought he was…
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