1972 : Heinrich Boll

1972 : Heinrich Boll

“for his writing which through its combination of a broad perspective on his time and a sensitive skill in characterization has contributed to a renewal of German literature”

Born

:

December 21, 1917

Place of birth

:

Cologne, German Empire

Died

:

July 16, 1985

Occupation

:

Writer

Nationality

:

German

Notable award(s)

:

Nobel Prize in Literature 1972

Biography:

Boll was born in Cologne (North Rhine-Westphalia), the December 21, 1917, in a working family. Between 1924 and 1928 went to the elementary school in Cologne Raderthal, and from 1928 to 1937 conducted studies of secondary in Cologne. His first contact with the literature has it in 1937, working in a shop of antique books and articles that will leave a year later with a desire to devote himself to writing. During Nazi Germany marched to a labor camp of the regime that was the only thing he could in the future to enter the University [citation needed]. When I was about to enroll for study of German c in the summer of 1939, he was recruited for the Wehrmacht (German army). During World War II, fought in France, Romania, Hungary and the Soviet Union and married for a permit in 1942. He was captured as a prisoner by the U.S. Army in the spring of 1945 and was detained in camps in France and Belgium . During this time his first child dies. In December 1945 returns with his wife to Cologne. Begins to write again while repairing his house destroyed by the bombing of the war. In 1949 he published his first book, Der Zug War punktlich. Is integrated into the Group 47. Workers friendship with Hans Richter and Alfred Andersch. Nimble writer and fine style, was critical of xenophobia and right-wing extremism in Germany. won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1972. He died in Cologne on July 16, 1985.

Works:

Works in German:

  • Der Zug war punktlich : Erzahlung – Opladen : Middelhauve, 1949

  • Wanderer, kommst du nach Spa : Erzahlungen – Opladen : Middelhauve, 1950

  • Die schwarzen Schafe : Erzahlungen – Opladen: Middelhauve, 1951

  • Wo warst du, Adam? : Roman – Opladen : Middelhauve, 1951

  • Nicht nur zur Weihnachtszeit – Frankfurt : Frankfurter Verlagsanstalt, 1952

  • Und sagte kein einziges Wort : Roman – Koln: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1953

  • Haus ohne Huter : Roman – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1954

  • Das Brot der fruhen Jahre : Erzahlung – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1955

  • So ward Abend und Morgen : Erzahlungen – Zurich : Arche, 1955

  • Unberechenbare Gaste : Heitere Erzahlungen – Zurich : Arche, 1956

  • Irisches Tagebuch – Koln : Kiepenlieuer & Witsch, 1957

  • Im Tal der donnernden Hufe : Erzahlung – Wiesbaden : Insel, 1957

  • Abenteuer eines Brotbeutels, und andere Geschichten / edited by Richard Plant – New York : Norton, 1957

  • Die Spurlosen : Horspiel. – Hamburg : Hans Bredow-Institut, 1957

  • Doktor Murkes gesammeltes Schweigen und andere Satiren – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1958

  • Der Wegwerfer : Erzahlung – Alfeld-Gronau : Hannoversche Papierfabriken, 1958

  • Im Ruhrgebiet – Frankfurt am Main : Buchergilde Gutenberg, 1958

  • Die ungezahlte Geliebte – Zollikofen : Privately printed, 1958

  • Die Waage der Baleks und andere Erzahlungen – Koln: Union, 1959

  • Billard um halb zehn : Roman – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1959

  • Der Mann mit den Messern : Erzahlungen – Stuttgart: Reclam, 1959

  • Der Bahnhof von Zimpren : Erzahlungen – Munich: List, 1959

  • Aus unseren Tagen / edited by Gisela Stein – New York : Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1960

  • Menschen am Rhein – Frankfurt am Main: Buchergilde Gutenberg, 1960

  • Brief an einen jungen Katholiken – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1961

  • Bilanz; Klopfzeichen : Zwei Horspiele – Stuttgart : Reclam, 1961

  • Erzahlungen, Horspiele, Aufsatze – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1961

  • Als der Krieg ausbrach; Als der Krieg zu Ende war : Zwei Erzahlungen – Frankfurt am Main : Insel, 1962

  • Ein Schluck Erde : Drama – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1962

  • Assisi – Munchen: Knorr & Hirth, 1962

  • Ansichten eines Clowns : Roman – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1963

  • Hierzulande : Aufsatze – Munchen: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1963

  • 1947 bis 1951 : Erzahlungen – Koln : Middelhauve, 1963

  • Die Essenholer und andere Erzahlungen / edited by Fritz Bachmann – Frankfurt am Main: Hirschgraben-Verlag, 1963

  • Entfernung von der Truppe : Erzahlung – Koln: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1964

  • Der Rat des Weltunweisen : Roman – Gutersloh : Mohn, 1965

  • Frankfurter Vorlesungen – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1966

  • Ende einer Dienstfahrt : Erzahlung – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1966

  • Die Spurlosen : Drei Horspiele – Leipzig : Insel, 1966

  • Aufsatze, Kritiken, Reden – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1967

  • Georg Buchners Gegenwartigkeit : Eine Rede – Berlin: Friedenauer Presse, 1967

  • Hausfriedensbruch : Horspiel; Aussatz: Schauspiel – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1969

  • Leben im Zustand des Frevels : Ansprache zur Verleihung des Kolner Literaturpreises – Berlin: Berliner Handpresse, 1969

  • Geschichten aus zwolf Jahren – Frankfurt am Main : Suhrkamp, 1969

  • Boll fur Zeitgenossen : Ein kulturgeschichtliches Lesebuch / edited by Ralph Ley – New York: Harper & Row, 1970

  • Gruppenbild mit Dame : Roman / Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1971

  • Erzahlungen, 1950-1970 – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1972

  • Gedichte – Berlin : Literarisches Colloquium, 1972

  • Versuch uber die Vernunft der Poesie : Nobelvorlesung – Stockholm : Norstedt & Soner, 1973

  • Die verlorene Ehre der Katharina Blum oder wie Gewalt entstehen und wohin sie fuhren kann : Erzahlung – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1974

  • Drei Tage im Marz : Ein Gesprach / Heinrich Boll, Christian Linder – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1975

  • Berichte zur Gesinnungslage der Nation – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1975

  • Gedichte : Mit Collagen von Klaus Staeck – Koln: Labbe und Muta, 1975

  • Wie kritisch darf engagierte Kunst sein? – Munchen : Presseausschu? Demokratische Initiative, 1976

  • Einmischung erwunscht : Schriften zur Zeit – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1977

  • Werke : Romane und Erzahlungen / edited by B. Balzer – 5 vol – Koln : Middelhauve/Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1977

  • Werke : Essayistische Schriften und Reden, Interviews / edited by B. Balzer – 4 vol – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1978

  • Horspiele, Theaterstucke, Drehbucher, Gedichte / edited by B. Balzer – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1978

  • Mein Lesebuch – Frankfurt am Main : Fischer, 1978

  • Eine deutsche Erinnerung : Interview mit Rene Wintzen – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1979

  • Du fahrst zu oft nach Heidelberg und andere Erzahlungen – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1979

  • Ein Tag wie sonst : Horspiele – Munchen : Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1980

  • Was soll aus dem Jungen blo? werden? Oder: Irgendwas mit Buchern – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1981

  • Warum haben wir aufeinander geschossen? / Heinrich Boll, Lev Kopelev – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1981

  • Der Autor ist immer noch versteckt / Heinrich Boll, Jurgen Wallmann – Hauzenberg : Pongratz, 1981

  • Vermintes Gelande : Essayistische Schriften 1977-1981 – Koln: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1982

  • Verantwortlich fur Polen? – Reinbek : Rowohlt, 1982

  • Das Vermachtnis : Kurzroman – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1982

  • Antikommunismus in Ost und West – Koln : Bund-Verlag, 1982

  • Die Verwundung und andere fruhe Erzahlungen – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1983

  • Der Angriff – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1983

  • Bild, Bonn, Boenisch – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1984

  • Katholisch und rebellisch : Ein Wegweiser durch, die andere Kirche – Reinbek : Rowohlt, 1984

  • Veranderungen in Staech : Erzahlungen 1962-1980 – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1984

  • Weil die Stadt so fremd geworden ist – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1985

  • Die Juden von Drove – Berlin : Rutten & Loening, 1985

  • Frauen vor Flu?landschaft : Roman in Dialogen und Selbstgesprachen – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1985

  • Die Fahigkeit zu trauern – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1986

  • Feindbild und Frieden : Schriften und Reden, 1982-1983 – Munchen : Deutscher Taschenbuch, 1987

  • Rom auf den ersten Blick : Landschaften, Stadte, Reisen – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1987

  • Der Engel schweig : Roman – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1992

  • Der blasse Hund : Erzahlungen – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1995

Works in English:

  • Adam Where Art Thou / translated by Mervyn Savill – New York : Criterion Books, 1955

  • The Train Was on Time / translated by Richard Graves – London: Arco, 1956

  • Traveller, If You Come to Spa … / translated by Mervyn Savill – London : Arco, 1956

  • Acquainted with the Night : a Novel / translated by Richard Graves – New York : Holt, 1954

  • The Unguarded House / translated by Mervyn Savill – London: Arco, 1957 – translation republished as Tomorrow and Yesterday , New York: Criterion Books, 1957

  • The Bread of Our Early Years / translated by Mervyn Savill – London : Arco, 1957

  • Billiards at Half-past Nine / translated by Patrick Bowles – London : Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1961

  • Absent without Leave : Two Novellas / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1965

  • The Clown / Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1965

  • 18 Stories / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1966

  • Absent without Leave and Other Stories / translated by Leila Vennewitz – London : Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1967

  • End of a Mission / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1967

  • Irish Journal / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1967

  • Adam and The Train : Two Novels / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1970

  • Children Are Civilians, Too / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1970

  • Group Portrait with Lady / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1973

  • The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum : How Violence Develops and Where It Can Lead / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1975

  • The Bread of Those Early Years / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1976

  • Missing Persons and Other Essays / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1977

  • And Never Said a Word / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : McGraw-Hill, 1978

  • The Safety Net / translated by Leila Vennewitz – Center, Pa. : Franklin Library, 1981

  • What’s to Become of the Boy? or, Something to Do with Books / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : Knopf, 1984

  • A Soldier’s Legacy / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : Knopf, 1985

  • The Casualty / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1987

  • Heinrich Boll, on His Death : Selected Obituaries and the Last Interview – Bonn : Inter Nationes, 1985

  • Women in a River Landscape : A Novel in Dialogues and Soliloquies / translated by David McLintock – New York : Knopf, 1988

  • The Short Stories of Heinrich Boll / translated by Leila Vennewitz – New York : Knopf, 1986

  • The Silent Angel / translated by Breon Mitchell – New York : St. Martin’s Press, 1994

  • Missing Persons and Other Essays / translated by Leila Vennewitz – Evanston, Ill. : Northwestern University Press, 1994

  • The Mad Dog : Stories / translated by Breon Mitchell – New York : St. Martin’s Press, 1997

Literature (a selection):

  • Martin, Werner, Heinrich Boll : eine Bibliographie seiner Werke – Hildesheim : Olms, 1975

  • Linder, Christian , Heinrich Boll : Leben & Schreiben 1917-1985 – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, cop. 1986

  • Hoffmann, Gabriele, Heinrich Boll – Bornheim-Merten : Lamuv, 1986

  • Conard, Robert C., Understanding Heinrich Boll – Columbia, S.C. : University of South Carolina Press, 1992

  • Heinrich Boll : Bilder eines Lebens / herausgegeben von Hans Scheurer unter Mitarbeit von Maiken Jerusalem, Markus Schafer – Koln : Kiepenheuer & Witsch, cop. 1995

  • Das Werk Heinrich Bolls : Bibliographie mit Studien zum Fruhwerk / Werner Bellmann (Hrsg.) – Opladen : Westdt. Verl., 1995

  • Boll, Viktor, & Schafer, Markus, Fortschreibung : Bibliographie zum Werk Heinrich Bolls – Koln : Kiepenheuer und Witsch, 1997

  • Vormweg, Heinrich, Der andere Deutsche : Heinrich Boll, eine Biographie – Koln : Kiepenheuer und Witsch, 2000

Awards:

1967: Georg Buchner Prize.

1972: Nobel Prize in Literature.

Prose:

Excerpt from The Clown

It was already dark when I arrived in Bonn, I forced myself, not my arrival with the automatic transmission to expire, in five years His Pleasure has emerged: the platform stairs down, the platform stairs up, travel bag, will ticket from the coat pocket to bag record , Ticket competence, the newspaper stand, evening newspapers to buy, go outside and a taxi heranwinken. For five years I Almost every day somewhere worn and arrived somewhere, I am station went up and down stairs and afternoon station up and down stairs, waved taxis approached, looked into my skirt pockets for money, to pay the driver, bought the evening newspaper kiosks and enjoyed in a corner of my consciousness exactly studied nonchalance this automatic. Since then, Marie has left me to Zupfner, these Catholics to marry, is the end yet become mechanical, without nonchalance to lose. For the distance from the station to the hotel, from hotel to the train station there is a degree: the taximeter. Mark two, three marks, four Mark Fifty railway station. Since Marie is gone, I’m sometimes out of the rhythm advised that the hotel and station together confused, nervous at the desk after my ticket or the officials sought to lock in my room number asked anything, the fate likes to say, well let me think Profession and my situation recall. I’m a clown, official job title: comedians, none Church taxable twenty-seven years old, and my numbers is: Arrivals and Departures, an (almost) long pantomime, where the audience until the last arrival and departure confused, because I Number usually on the train again through (it consists of more than six hundred sequences, whose choreography course I must have in your head), it is close that I occasionally succumb to my own imagination: in a hotel falls, after the departure board look, they also discover a stairs or hinunterrenne to my train is not to be missed, but while I just go to my room and myself to the idea needed to prepare. Fortunately I know in most hotels; within five years shows a pattern of variation with fewer opportunities than we commonly assume may be – and also makes my agent who knows my idiosyncrasies, for a certain smoothness. What he called ‘the sensitivity of the soul artists’ names, will be fully respected, and an “aura of well-being” surrounded me when I’m in my room: flowers in a pretty vase, I have hardly dropped the coat, shoes (I hate shoes ) In the corner geknallt, brings me a pretty maid coffee and cognac, makes me run a bath, with fragrant green ingredients and reassuring is made. In the bathtub, I read newspapers, rogue louder, up to six, but at least three, and sing with a loud voice only moderately Liturgical: chorales, hymns, sequences, which I still Reminder in the school are. My parents, devout Protestant, pays homage to the postwar fashion confessional forgiveness and sent me to a Catholic school. I myself am not religious, not even church, and serve me the liturgical texts and melodies for therapeutic reasons: they help me most about the two suffering across, with whom I am burdened by nature: Melancholy and headache. Since Marie overflowed to the Catholics is (even though Mary is Catholic, it seems to me appropriate that designation), increases the ferocity of these two suffering, and even the Tantum Ergo, or the litany Loretan, so far my favorite in the fight against pain, hardly help. There is a temporary effective means: alcohol – that there is a permanent cure: Marie, Marie has forsaken me. A clown who comes to drinking, from rising faster than a drunken roofers crashes.

If I’m drunk, do I run with my performances movements, which only the accuracy are justified, from inaccurate and decay in the peinlichsten errors, with a clown can be undermined: I laugh about my own ideas. A terrible humiliation. As long as I’m sober, increases the fear of the appearance to the point where I enter the stage (most I had on stage gesto?en), and what some critics’ these pensive, critical Laughter “called,” the man behind hears the heart beat, “was nothing more than a desperate cold, with which I did for puppet; bad way, if the thread and I tore myself dropped. Monks probably exist in a state of contemplation similar Marie dragged always much mystical literature with them around, and I remember that the words “empty” and “nothing” is often came.

Presentation Speech:

Presentation Speech by Karl Ragnar Gierow, Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy.

Your Royal Highnesses, Ladies and Gentlemen,

He who attempts to seize in a single grasp the bountiful and very varied authorship of Heinrich Boll finds himself holding an abstraction. Through these writings – begun twenty years ago and culminating in last year’s novel Gruppenbild mit Dame – there runs, however, a twin theme that might serve as such a synoptic abstraction. This could be phrased: The homeless and the aesthetics of the humane. But Boll’s homeless are not ill-fated individuals or human wreckage cast up outside the bulwarks of society. He tells of a society without a roof over its head, a derailed, displaced epoch, standing on every street corner with hand outstretched, begging for the charity of a kindred spirit and human fellowship. This is the situation underlying Boll’s Asthetik des Humanen.

He writes about what every human being seeks in order to lead a human life, in little things as in great, about “das Wohnen, die Nachbarschaft und die Heimat, das Geld und die Liebe, Religion und Mahlzeiten”, to quote his own enumeration. With its whole register from satire and high-spirited parody to deep suffering, this is a form of passionately engaged aesthetics and it also contains his literary program. He who sets out to portray the bare necessities of life keeps both feet on the ground.

Yet Boll has declared “Ich brauche wenig Wirklichkeit”, a word to note, coming from one who is regarded and who perhaps regards himself as a realistic narrator. The reality he needs so little is that of the classic 19th century novel, the reality that after a meticulous study of detail is faithfully reproduced. Boll is highly proficient at the method but employs it ironically; there is no limit to the superfluity of detail.

But the jesting with this conscientious form of registration is itself a demonstration of how little Boll needs such a reality. His mastery includes the ability to bring his setting and its figures to life with scanty, sometimes barely suggested lines.

There is however another reality which Boll’s writing continually requires: the background to his existence, the air his generation breathed, the heritage into which it came. That reality is the recurrent, intrusively observed subject of Heinrich Boll’s writing, from the start up to the magnum opus already mentioned, Gruppenbild mit Dame, which so far crowns his work. Boll’s real breakthrough came in the years 1953, 1954 and 1955 with three novels published one after the other – Und sagte kein einziges Wort; Haus ohne Huter, and Das Brot der fruhen Jahre. Although it was presumably not the author’s intention, these three titles serve to indicate the reality which he so persistently and forcefully depicts. His background was Germany’s years of famine, it was Das Brot der fruhen Jahre, the bread that never sufficed and often was not there, the bread that had to be begged for or stolen if one was to survive, and that diet is an indelible memory. The heritage which he and his contemporaries had to administer was Haus ohne Huter, house without caretaker, an existence in ruins, with time a widow and the future fatherless. The air he and his contemporaries breathed was inhaled with the heavy hand of dictatorship on their throats, Und sagte kein einziges Wort, because the hand smothered every sound.

It is not the smallest German miracle that after such years of destitution a new generation of writers, thinkers and researchers was ready so soon to shoulder their country’s and their own essential task in the spiritual life of our time. The renewal of German literature, to which Heinrich Boll’s achievements witness and of which they are a significant part, is not an experiment with form – a drowning man scorns the butterfly stroke. Instead it is a rebirth out of annihilation, a resurrection, a culture which, ravaged by icy nights and condemned to extinction, sends up new shoots, blossoms and matures to the joy and benefit of us all. Such was the kind of work Alfred Nobel wished his Prize to reward.

Dear Mr. Boll,

As a given consequence of the homelessness that is one of the main themes of your writing, comes the striving that you yourself have indicated with the words: “Die Suche nach einer bewohnbaren Sprache in einem bewohnbaren Land”. This implies an antithesis of homelessness, a writing in which everyone can feel at home. You reject a literature for an initiated circle, you have declared, adding significantly: “Eine Kirche wird eingeweiht, aber durch diesen Akt der Einweihung nicht geschlossen, sondern geoffnet”. It is this openness for the human aspect which gives space and raises the arches higher in your works. And it is works in that spirit which give us a certain right to set our hopes as well on a habitable world. With these words I express the congratulations of the Swedish Academy and ask you now to receive this year’s Nobel Prize for Literature from the hands of His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.

Nobel Lecture:

2 May, 1973

An Essay on the Reason of Poetry

It is from those who ought to know it, I said – and from others who also ought to know, deny – that when something as seemingly rational, predictable, designers, illustrators, engineers, workers jointly provided as a bridge a few millimeters to Centimeters unpredictability remain. This view of the treated and shaped mass of tiny unpredictability may be the difficulty justified, a complicated mass of interconnected chemical and technical details and materials in all its possible reactions, plus the involvement of the four classical elements (air, water, fire, earth) scrupulously vorauszuberechnen. It seems so because not only the design, re-calculated, controlled techno-chemical-statistical composition to the problem, but – I call it – whose incarnation, you can also call achievement. This unpredictability remaining, and he also likes just fractions of millimeters, which unpredictable tiny strain differences correspond to – how shall we call it? What is in this gap? Is that what we used to call irony, it is poetry, God, resistance, or, fashionable words, fiction? Someone who’s had to know, a painter who once had been baker told me once that even the bread baking, which is in the early morning, almost night held an extremely risky thing was, that you in the nose and rear grauenden the morning had also must hold to the mixture of ingredients, temperature, cooking time, more or less instinctively find out, because everyone, every single day have his own bread requires this important, sacramental element of the first morning meal for all those who toil in the Day to be run. Shall we also almost unpredictable element of irony, poetry, God, resistance or call fiction? How come we be without it? Silence we love. Nobody will ever know how many novels, poems, analysis, confessions, pains and pleasures on this continent have been heaped love, without having to be proved would have been totally researched. When people ask me how or why this or that I’ve written, but soon I always back into considerable embarrassment. I would like not only to the questioner, including myself give an exhaustive inquiry, it may be but in any case. I can understand the entire context, not restore it and wished I could be, at least the literature, which I myself do, to a less mystical process to make than the bridge construction and bread baking. And because the evidence in their literature Gesamtverkorperung, in the State and formed a liberating effect can have, it would be very useful, the emergence of this incarnation tell on that even more to participate. What is it that I myself, although I have been doing, not nearly explain it? This something that I am the first to the last line of the original paper, several times vary, edit, partially umakzentuiere, and me with increasing lag is strange how something that has passed or is passed and ever further from me removed, while for others it is shaped as a potentially important message is? Theoretically, should the total reconstruction of the operation possible, a kind of parallel protocol, while the work is created which, it would be comprehensive, probably the multiple scale of the work themselves would accept. It should not just the intellectual and spiritual, the sensual and physical dimensions are, nutrition, mood, metabolism, ripping whims explains the function of the environment not only in its incarnation as such, even as a backdrop. I’m watching, for example, sometimes in almost total thoughtlessness sports reports to this thoughtlessness thought to practice, one, I admit, somewhat mystical exercise, and yet have all these features into the protocol to be introduced, unabridged, because it might be That a kick or a jump into any rash thoughtfulness of my thoughts are free, a gesture, perhaps, a smile, a word reporter, an advertisement. It should be every phone conversation, the weather, the Correspondent, with each cigarette to be introduced, a voruberfahrendes car, a pneumatic hammer, the cackle a chicken, which disturbs a relationship. The table where I write this, is 76,5 cm high, 69.5 times its plate 111 cm in size. He has turned legs, one drawer, he likes seventy to eighty years old, he comes from the possession of a large aunt of my wife who, after her husband in a madhouse died and she was in a smaller house moved, her brother, the Grandfather of my wife, sold. So he came, a despised and contemptible piece of furniture rather without any value, after the grandfather of my wife had died in our possession, stood somewhere, nobody knows exactly where, around until he appeared at a parade and proved itself as bombengeschadigt; somewhere, someday, the panel during the Second World War by a bomb splinter pierced – it would not only have sentimental value, would be a start in a politically-sozialgeschichtlich mitteilenswerte dimension to the table as an entry-level vehicles to use, with deadly furniture packer contempt of the almost refused to transport him, would be more important than its current use, random than the tenacity with which we do – and not from sentimental reasons or alarm, but almost of principle before the dump preserved, and it likes me, because I am now a lot at this table wrote a temporary permit devotion, the emphasis is on temporary. We mention of the objects that are on the table, they are irrelevant and interchangeable, even accidentally, except perhaps the Remington typewriter brand, execution “Travel Writer de Luxe”, built in 1957, which I also hang on to it my inputs, Revenue for the long become uninteresting, although it is considerably whose revenue has contributed and still contributes. I have on this instrument that any expert with contempt, or would touch, estimated four novels and several hundred items written, and not only because I hang out again on principle, because it’s still doing and proves how low the investment opportunities and the Investitionsehrgeiz are a writer. I mention table and typewriter for me to be aware that these two did not even necessary for me quite explicable utensils, and I would try to both their origin with the requisite exact justice to determine their exact physical, industrial, social and career their origins, it would be an almost endless compendium of British and West German industrial and social history of it. We silence from the building of the space in which this table is from the earth on which the house is built, we remain silent until fairly by the people there – probably a few centuries have inhabited by the living and dead , We speak of those who bring the coals, wash dishes, letters and newspapers out – and we certainly mention of those close to us, closer, closest. And yet needed everything from pencils on the table, which would focus in its entire history to be introduced, including those close to us, are closer to the next. Stay because not enough leftovers, interstices, resistors, poetry, God, fiction – even more than the bridge and the bread baking? It is true and is easily said, was language material, and it materialized, if you write something. But how could we explain that there – what is sometimes found – something like life arises, persons fates, acts – that is taking place as the embodiment of something so totenblassem such as paper, where the imagination of the author with the reader on a previously unexplained manner, an overall process that is not to reconstruct, where even the wisest, most sensitive interpretation is always only a more or less successful approach remains, and how it would be possible, both the transition from Conscious into the unconscious – when writers and readers — complete with the necessary accuracy to describe to register, and then even in its national, continental, international, religious or ideological diversity, and are constantly changing the mixing ratio of two, for both the writer and the reader and the sudden Inversion, where one becomes the other, and in this sudden change from one another not to differentiate? There will always remain a residual, you may call him Unerklarlichkeit, my secret, it remains and will remain an albeit tiny district, in the sense of our Provenance not penetrate, because they have not clarified the sense of poetry and art pushes the idea , Whose physicality remains as incomprehensible as the body of a woman, a man or even an animal. Writing is – for me at any rate – moving forward, conquering a body that I did not know of anything away to something out that I do not know, I never know how it originates, is not expected to act as a standby in the sense of classic drama – out here in the sense of a complicated and complex experiment, with the opportunity, invented, spiritual, intellectual and sensual at the markets themselves material physicality – and on paper! – Aspires. So it may not even give good literature, it could also not successful music and painting, because none of the body, which he aspires, may have already seen, and so is everything you with a superficial modern word, what to live Art should mention, experiment and discovery – and temporarily, only in its historical relativity estimable and measurable, and it seems to me irrelevant, values of eternity to speak to search it. Where we come from without this gap, this rest, we irony that we poetry, we God, fiction or resistance can call? States also are always only approximate what they purport to be, and it can not state that this gap is not between the Verbalitat its Constitution and its embodiment, a rest room in which poetry and resistance grow – and hopefully thrive. And there is no form of literature, without these spaces altogether. Even the most accurate reportage is not without sentiment, without the imagination of the reader, even if the writers themselves failed, and even the most accurate reportage must omit – such as the exact and detailed description of goods which are the embodiment of life may now include … they must compose elements move, and also their interpretation and their work mitlieferbar protocol is not even because the language is not material to a binding and universally understandable message value can be reduced: Each word is with so much history and fantasy story, National and Social history and historical relativity – which should be included, – burdened, as I hand in my work table to indicate tried. And determining the lengths Communication is not only a problem of translation from one language into another, it is a much more serious problem within the languages, where definitions of world views and beliefs wars can mean – I remind you of the wars after the Reformation, which, if including power and domination politically explainable, even wars over religious definitions were. It is – that incidentally – so trivial to determine that we speak the same language but if you do not have the cargo, which every word and sometimes even regional local-can have, with spreads. Sounds to me at any rate some German, which I read and hear, foreign as Swedish, which I unfortunately understand very little. Politicians, ideologues, theologians and philosophers try again and again, completely solutions, ready decanted problems. That is their obligation – and it is our own, the writer who – we know that we do not rest and unresisting can clarify – intrude into the interstices. There are too many unexplained and remains unexplained, entire provinces of the waste. Bridge builders, bread bakers and Roman writers are usually finished with her, and her remains are not the most problematic. While we are far only riding on pure literature and literature engagee – one of the false alternatives, I will still come – we’re still not aware – or we are unconsciously distracted them – thoughts about l’argent pure and l’argent engagee. If one only listens and looks at how politicians and economists about something as supposedly rational like money talk, then the mystical or even mysterious area within the previously mentioned three professional becoming less interesting and perplexing harmless. Let us only as an example the recent past, highly Bold attack U.S. dollars (which is euphemistically referred to one U.S. dollars crisis has). I Tumbes laity fell on something that nobody mentioned by name: that two states most affected were the strongest and to something as odd – assumed that the word freedom is not really just a fiction – as support forced purchases, which means but to pay, which historically have something in common: they have lost the Second World War, and it tells them something as common to: their efficiency and their industriousness. Can you because that’s the view, with its small change in your pocket or klimpert with his bogus Chen wedelt, with memorable symbols printed, do not make clear why he, although he worked for no less that it less bread, milk, coffee , Taxi km bring? How many spaces offer the mystique of money, and what is their vaults hidden poetry? Idealistic parents and educators have always persuade us want money was dirty. I’ve never been, because I always got money, if I had worked – I take the big prize, which I of the Swedish Academy was awarded – and even the dirtiest work will be for those who have no other choice, than to work inside. It means livelihood for those who are close to him and for him money itself is the embodiment of his work, and it is pure. Between work and what it brings, admittedly remains unexplained always a balance, with the vague formulations of how well or poorly earn far less than nearly filled the gap, the interpretation in a novel or poem can be.

The remains unsolved literature are compared with the unexplained gaps of monetary mystique of harmlessness astonishing, and there are still people who have criminal recklessness in the word freedom in the mouth, where a clear submission to a myth and called for its territorial claim is lodged and . Since then appealed to political insight, but exactly where insight and insight into the problems prevented. At the bottom of my checks, I see four different groups of numbers with a total of 32 characters, of which two hieroglyphs same. Five of these thirty-two characters are comprehensible to me: three for my account, two for the branch of the bank – what about the rest twenty-seven under which many zeros are? I’m sure there are all these characters have a rational, sensible – as we so nicely says: plausible explanation. I just in my brain and my consciousness no place for this plausible explanation, and what remains is the mystique of a secret digits science, the less I can comprehend, whose poetry and symbolism will remain foreign to me as Marcel Proust’s “search for the lost time” or “Wessobrunner prayer.” What these 32 items from me, is trusting faith in the fact that everything has its correct, that everything completely clear and if I only have a little trouble there, for me was insightful and it is for me a rest mysticism remain – or even fear, more fear than any form of poetry I could instill. Almost no monetary transaction is for those whose money it is insightful. Thirteen points on my phone bill, some on each of my soundsovielen policies, nor will my tax, my car and phone number – I suppose I did not bother to bring all these points to count, which I head, or at least should have noted, to my place in society at any time to be able to demonstrate exactly. We multiply the 32 numerals and the ciphers on my check comforted with six, or we give discount and we multiply by four, yet we add the birth dates add a few abbreviations for confession, marital status – then finally we have the Occident in the addition and Integration of his wisdom? Is this reason, as we understand it and accept – and we will not only made obvious, but even a lit us – perhaps not only a Western arrogance, which we then via colonialism or mission, or a mixture of both as a tool subjugation exported all over the world, and would be or for those concerned the differences between Christian, socialist, communist, capitalist is not low, they may also sense the poetry of these places obvious, but is not the reason her poetry victorious? What was the biggest crimes of the Indians, as they are compatible with the European exported to the Americas were confronted reason? They knew the value of gold, not the money! And they fought against something against which we today as the ultimate product of our reason to fight against the destruction of their world and the environment, against the total subjugation of their soil under the profit, which was alien to them than us with their gods and spirits. And what would they be Christian as well as the new, the glad tidings should be obvious, in this crazy, hypocritical complacency with which you sundays served God and praised him as Savior, on time and on Monday the banks opened again, where for only held true idea of money, property and profit has been administered? For the poetry of water and wind, and the buffalo grass, in which embodied their lives, there was only scorn – and now we begin to Western civilized in our cities, the end products of our total reason – because it is fair to say that we have not spared us – we start something like this to feel how really the poetry of water and the wind is and what it embodies. Stock or is the tragedy of the churches, perhaps not even in what is the meaning of the Enlightenment as unreasonable to describe them could, but in a desperate and failed attempt desperate way, one reason hinterherzurennen or they take over, never with something so unreasonable as to arrange incarnated God had been and would be? Provisions, paragraphs, the experts agree, a forest of paragraphs numbered rules, and the production of prejudice, which we eingehammert and on the treadmills of history instruction has to the people themselves to make increasingly absent. Even in the extreme west of Europe is our common sense quite another to which we simply call stupidity. The horrific problem of Northern Ireland is that two kinds reason successive centuries and together they are hopeless. How many provinces of the waste and contemptuous of history has left us. Continents are hidden under the sign of our victory of reason. Populations remained alien to each other, they allegedly spoke the same language. Where the marriage of Western provenance as the organizing element providing unterschlug the fact that it was a privilege: inaccessible, unaffordable for the peasants, for example, you servants and Magde said that simply did not have the money, even just a few sheets to buy, and they had the money to save or stolen, had no bed, the sheets to be broad. So let them unmoved in its illegitimacy, children rendered them yes! Upwards and outwards everything seemed completely resolved. Clear answers, clear questions and clear rules. Catechism deception. Only no wonder, and poetry only as a sign of terrestrial, never the Earth. And then you wonder, even yearns back to the old rules, if the despised and hidden provinces show signs of turmoil, and of course must be a party or its counterpart from the physical and political turmoil profit drag. The still unexplored continent, which one called sexual love, you have to assign rules to attempt to those same as they are beginners in philately when creating their first album offers. Until the peinlichste detail were allowed and illicit tenderness defined, and suddenly make Theo and ideologues in common horror found on this continent, one for ausgemessen, cools and ordered held, a few volcanoes are not extinguished – and volcanoes can with the fire brigade tried simply do not delete. And what one has everything to God, these abused and pitiful instance unloaded, they are deported, everything, everything because of problems remained: all signs of hopeless squalor of social, economic, sexual kind of pointed to him, everything waste, was scornful God pushed all the unfinished ‘leftovers’ and yet it has simultaneously as embodied preached, without considering that we humans are not God and God is not the people on them if he embodies must be respected. And who might that be surprised if he survived because, when you ordered wickedness and misery of the World and the own society on an unfulfilled Catechism equally dogmatic nature and to an increasingly and repeatedly postponed pushed the future, as the dreary present proved? And we can turn it only with unbearable arrogance respond by putting us from here presume to this process than to denounce reactionary, and it is arrogance same variety, if also from here the official administrator of God that God, in the Soviet Union seems to have survived, as her complain, without the garbage dumps, under which he is hidden, away, and the appearance of God there to justify a social system here complains. Again and again we want, whether we are as Christians or atheists our conviction boast benefit of one or the other system of thought represented opinionated. This our madness, this arrogance “to be” buried again and again both incarnate God, the man called the man and his body set on the future vision of total humanity. Us, which we so easily humble, something lacking: humility, not to be confused with subordination, obedience or submission. That we have colonized the peoples made their humility, the poetry of this humility in humiliation for them transforms. We always want to conquer and subjugate, no miracle in a civilization, whose first foreign language reading a long time the Bellum Gallicum of Julius Caesar, and their first practice in self-complacency, in quite clear answers and questions of the catechism was any catechism was a brooch of infallibility and the residue, ready resolved problems. I have a bit of bridge building, bread baking and writing novels away, the interstices, ironies, fictitious districts, leftovers, divinity, mystification and resistance from other areas indicated – they appeared to me worse than the slight explanation, unexplained corners where not to us traditional sense, but the sense of poetry itself – such as in a novel – hides. The approximately two hundred items that I, in the most accurate sequence group for group, with a couple of ciphers untermischt, in the head or at least on a slip as proof of my existence would have, without knowing exactly what they mean, does not embody much more, than a few abstract rights and livelihoods evidence within a bureaucracy that can not exist only reasonable, even sensible. I rely on and to mentor their blind trust. Can I do not expect that one reason poetry is not only familiar, but it encourages, not that you leave them in peace, but a little of their rest and accept pride of their humility, the humility always down, never humility upwards can be. Respect hide in her kindness and justice and the desire to recognize and to be recognized. I do not want to new mission entrances and vehicle supply, but I believe in the poetic sense of humility, courtesy and justice to say that I have a lot of similarities that I see potential rapprochement between the Camusschen strangers in the sense of strangeness of the staff and Kafkaschen the God incarnate, of course, has remained a stranger and – apart from a few Temperamentsentgleisungen from – in a remarkable manner polite and literally. Why is the Catholic Church has long – I do not know exactly how long – the direct access to the literalness of sacred texts declared or obstructed him in Latin and Greek kept hidden, accessible only insiders? I think I have to exclude the dangers that they in the poetry of the incarnate word spotted, and the reason their power against the dangerous sense of poetry to protect. And not coincidentally is the most important consequence of the Reformation, the discovery of languages and their Korperlicheit been. And what is ever empire without language ausgekommen imperialism, ie, the dissemination of its own oppression of the language of the ruled? In this, in any other context, I see this is not the imperialist, but apparently anti-imperialist attempts, the poetry, the sensuality of the language and its embodiment of the imagination – because language and imagination are one – and to denounce the wrong information or alternative Poetry as a new manifestation of “divide et impera” to introduce. It is the brand-new, almost an arrogance back international new reason, the poetry of the Indians as gegenherrschaftliche force might allow the classes in their own country, which wants to liberate you, but their own rights. Poetry is not a class privilege, it’s never been one. Again and again have established the remnants of feudalism and Civil literatures regenerated from what she called patronizing vernacular, modern jargon or slang words. One may perform this operation safely linguistic exploitation, but it changes nothing in this exploitation, if the alternative false information or poetry / literature propagated. The nostalgia mixed with waste, in the vernacular expressions, slang, jargon may lie, not entitled to now include the poetry to the waste pile and refer to all forms and types of artistic expression to do so. Therein lies much Pfaffisches: another incarnation and sensuality profiling, by preparing new Katechismen, where only right and wrong expression truly spoken. You can not force the message on the power of expression which this communication takes place, disconnect it traces something to me to the theologically quite boring, as an example Embodiment of denial but important squabbling around the Communion in both figures recalls , Then what the Catholic part of the world was concerned, the pallor of wafers has been reduced, which is not even bread could be mentioned. We mention the millions of hectoliters of wine refused! It was an arrogant disregard not only of the matter is even more of what this matter should embody. You can not liberate class by their first away something, and likes this new school of Manichaeism also a antireligios or give them over so that a kirchenherrschaftliches model, with the burning of Hus and could end with the excommunication of Luther. One might safely on the concept of beauty argue, develop new aesthetics, they are overdue, but they may not begin with denial, and they must not exclude one: the possibility of the transfer, the literature offers: she moved to South or North America , Sweden, India, Africa. You can move, even in a different class, different time, different religion and other race. It is – even in its bourgeois form – never been their goal, to create foreignness, but this should be repealed. And like the class from which they have for the most part has come about due to hold a product in this class, she was in most cases also a hideout of the resistance against them. And it must be the internationalism of resistance maintained that the one – Alexander Solzhenitsyn – a believer or has done – and others – Arrabal – the fierce and bitter opponent of religion and the Church. And this resistance is not as pure reflex mechanism or to understand where the God of faith, because atheism spawns, but as the embodiment geistesgeschichtlicher relationships, between different provinces and garbage heaps of waste. and also as a recognition of togetherness without arrogance and without Unfehlbarkeitsanspruch. There may be a political prisoner or even just some isolated opposition in the Soviet Union terribly wrong, or even appear when you’re in the Western world against the Vietnam war protests – one might understand the psychologically for him because in his cell or his social isolation – and yet He should realize that the guilt of one may not be offset against the other, that if for Vietnam demonstrated, for it is mitdemonstriert! I know that sounds utopian, and it appears to me as the only possibility of a new internationalism, not neutrality. No author may default or Advanced divisions and judgments take over, and it seems to me to be almost suicidal if we still and always the division engaged in literature and the other about discussing. Not only that, just when one believes to be, for the other must occur until the extreme, no, we just accept this alternative a fake civic Teilurigsprinzip that alienates us. It is not only the division of our potential strength, including our potential – and I risk it without blush – embodied beauty, because they may also liberate like the idea notified, as they can liberate themselves or as a provocation that they may represent. The strength of the undivided literature is not the neutralization of directions, but the internationalism of resistance, and this resistance is the poetry, the embodiment, the sensuality, imagination and beauty. The new Manichaean iconoclasm, she wants to take us, we all want to take art, would not only deprive us, even those for which it is doing what she thinks we have to. No curse, no bitterness, not even the information about the desperate condition of a class is possible without poetry, and even to condemn them, they must first bring to realization. You read it once since Rosa Luxemburg and look closely at what Lenin monuments has decreed as the first: the first for Count Tolstoy, from whom he has said before it began to write Graf, did it in Russian literature, where no farmers , The second for the “reactionary” Dostoyevsky. You may want for themselves – an ascetic way of change to choose to renounce art and literature. You can not do for others, before they are ignored or cognition brought to renounce what they should. This waiver must be voluntary, otherwise he will pfaffische provision as a new catechism, and once again would be an entire continent as the continent of love, sentenced to drought. Not from pure playfulness, and not just to shock, art and literature have repeatedly changed their forms, in the new experiment discovered. They have also in some ways embodies these, and it was almost never the confirmation of existing and pre-and if they ausmerzt, launch into another possibility: the List. Still is the art of a good hiding place: not for dynamite, but for intellectual explosives and social late. Why else would the various indices given? And just in their despised and sometimes even disdainful beauty and opacity, it is the best hiding place for the barb to the sudden jerk or the sudden realization brings. Here I must, before I conclude, it is a necessary limitation. The weakness of my suggestions and observations therein lies the inevitable that I tradition of reason in which I – hopefully not with all their success – am educated – with the means anzweifle same reason, and it would be more unjust than this reason in all its Denouncing dimensions. Apparently it is – this reason – nevertheless succeeded in doubt as to their total claim to what I’ve called their arrogance, mitzuliefern and also the experience and remember to get what I sense of poetry have mentioned I do not for a privileged, not for a civic body think. It is communicable, and just because they embody literalness and sometimes disconcerting effect, it can prevent alienation or estrangement or repeal. Has to be baffled even the significance surprised to be surprised or even touched. And what I have the humility – only implicitly, of course – said, I do not owe a religious upbringing or remembrance, which always meant humiliation, humility when they said, but the early and later reading Dostoyevsky. And precisely because the international movement for a classless, or no longer class literature, the discovery of entire provinces of humiliated, for human waste declared for the most important literary twist think, I warn against the destruction of the poetry, before the drought of Manichaeism, before iconoclasm of one, as it seems to me blind Eiferertums, not even water can enter before the child ausschuttet. It seems pointless to me, the boys or the elderly to denounce or to glorify. It seems pointless to me, from old systems to dream, which only in museums to reconstruct are, it seems pointless to alternatives such as conservative / progressive build. The new wave of nostalgia, based on furniture, clothes, expressions and feelings clinging scales, but only proves that our new world is always absent. That the reason for which we have built and trusts that the world has not trusted that the alternative rational / irrational was a wrong. I had a lot here or to go on, because a thought always on the other hand too far and it would lead each of those continents throughout auszumessen. I had to go through the humor, who also is not a class privilege and yet ignored in his poetry and as a hideout of the Resistance.

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