Get Free Ebook The Emigrants (New Directions Paperbook), by Michael Hulse
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The Emigrants (New Directions Paperbook), by Michael Hulse
Get Free Ebook The Emigrants (New Directions Paperbook), by Michael Hulse
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Review
“Few writers have traveled as quickly from obscurity to the sort of renown that yields an adjective as quickly as German writer W. G. Sebald (1944 - 2001), and now Sebaldian is as evocative as Kafkaesque. Sebald is that rare being: an inimitable stylist who creates extraordinary sentences that, like crystals, simultaneously refract and magnify meaning.†- Booklist“The Emigrants is that terrifyingly rare and wonderful thing: a unique masterpiece...†- Thomas McGonigle, Chicago Tribune“In Sebald's writing, everything is connected, everything webbed together by the unseen threads of history, or chance, or fate, or death... beautiful and unsettling, elevated into an art of the uncanny - an art that was, in the end, Sebald's strange and inscrutable gift.†- Slate“Sublime.†- Cynthia Ozick, The New Republic“Tragic, stunningly beautiful, strange and haunting. The secret of Sebald's appeal is that he saw himself in what now seems almost an old-fashioned way as a voice of conscience, someone who remembers injustice, who speaks for those who can no longer speak.†- The New York Review of Books“Most writers, even good ones, write of what can be written. The very greates write of what cannot be written. I think of Akhmatova and Primo Levi, for example, and of W.G. Sebald.†- The New York Times“A masterpiece.†- Richard Eder, The New York Times“A writer of almost unclassifiable originality, but whose voice we recognize as indispensable and central to our time.†- The New York Times Book Review“A writer whose work belongs on the high shelf alongside that of Kafka, Borges, and Proust.†- The New York Times Book Review“Sebald stands with Primo Levi as the prime speaker of the Holocaust and, with him, the prime contradiction of Adorno's dictum that after it, there can be no art.†- Richard Eder, The New York Times Book Review
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About the Author
W. G. Sebald was born in Germany in 1944 and died in 2001. He is the author of The Emigrants, The Rings of Saturn, Vertigo, Austerlitz, After Nature, On the Natural History of Destruction, Unrecounted and Campo Santo.Michael Hulse is an English translator, critic, and poet. Hulse has translated more than sixty books from the German.
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Product details
Series: New Directions Paperbook (Book 853)
Paperback: 240 pages
Publisher: New Directions; Translation edition (November 8, 2016)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 9780811226141
ISBN-13: 978-0811226141
ASIN: 081122614X
Product Dimensions:
5.4 x 0.8 x 8 inches
Shipping Weight: 9.6 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
Average Customer Review:
3.9 out of 5 stars
114 customer reviews
Amazon Best Sellers Rank:
#69,332 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
"The Emigrants" contains four cameos of Jews who left Germany during the thirties; two commit suicide, one dies under sedation in Ithaca, New York and the last one's demise goes unmentioned. Sebald's modernist story telling is the literary equivalent of the paintings of George Braque with the Germanic accent of Ernest Ludwig Kirchner or Emil Nolde; colorful, elliptical, disguised. Time and truth and place are seemingly irrelevant until they aren't, the narrator as observer, the protagonist as the narrator through in his/her diaries, each cameo is disjointed from the others. Sebald is given to long descriptions of places (Jerusalem, Ithaca, New York, Bad Kissingen, Germany, Manchester, England) and items of possession. It is easy to describe this book about memory but it is far more; this is the secure ordered life of a society blown apart along with the four individuals by jackboots and carefully refracted in their emigration and fragile lives ultimately far removed from their beginnings.
This German author is mesmerizing and sadly I have only one his books now that I haven't read. He weaves identity, location, and memory together with choice details that make the reader feel they are entering a sort of dream. This line gives just a little of that: "It makes me feel like that I am a long way away, though I never quite know from where." Or another line on a dominant mood in the novel: "Uncle Adelwarth had an infallible memory, but... at the same time, he scarcely allowed himself access to it." These lines though do not represent Sebold completely who weaves his spells accumulating descriptions, meaning also we have a masterful translation. Here he writes from the perspective of a Jewish family that experienced the horrors of WWII racism. That being said, with Sebold it is not what you might think. We have brief descriptions of the mistreatment, but long, poetic descriptions of the lives before they were destroyed, as well as consequences to those that survived. It is difficult to add something new because the author receives so much praise, all of it well deserved. It's almost as if critics feel at a loss for words. If you haven't read him, you might want to start with "Rings of Saturn," but be sure not to neglect this work.
Leaving one's area of origin, and the emotional impact of doing so, is at the heart of W. G. Sebald's The Emigrants. I thought it was a novel when I picked it out for my Kindle, but it's not: it's a collection of four short stories on a common theme. The first two stories are fairly short and deal with men displaced in Europe as a result of their Jewish heritage during World War 2, and the second two are longer and deal with transnational migrations, with one story having no apparent connection to Jewishness and the second being the most explicitly tied to the Holocaust of all four of them, as well as being the only story primarily based in a female perspective.All of the stories end in tragedy, and only one is told even in part as a first-person narrative. It gives the book a sense of remove, and the beauty of Sebald's language makes it feel like almost like an elegy in prose form. The power of loss and memory is gorgeously and movingly conveyed...every one of these stories gently rips your heart out. As someone who doesn't particularly enjoy short stories, I found that this was a very well-done collection of them. There aren't too many, and they are all arranged around a similar theme in a way that really works and keeps the stories flowing together and seeming like one piece. Like four movements to a piece of music. I would definitely recommend it, but maybe if you're not in a low mood already, because as lovely as it is, it's a downer.
I've read two other of his books. None of them are exciting, neither are they dull. Sebald's tone is calm even when his experiences stirr him. He is erudite but never pompous; observes keenly. Except for M. Austerlitz he doesn't spend much time with any one person. Never is there any biography or analysis of character. The book is full of rumination; it is a tapestry meshing with the person or circumstance the author finds himself with as he wanders hither and yon. He sees places as living history and like history his thoughts flow. Somewhat in like manner he thoughts connect as the paragraph progresses, stretching often beyond the page. This would ordinarily annoy me; not here. Tapestries can be huge. While he examines objects at length he doesn't probe character or motive. People simply are. Easy reading? Not exactly, yet for me never slack or skippable or difficult. No overt excitement; his excitement is a steady low burning flame. There are no explosions; there is a quietly passionate digging in unlikely places. And strange coincidences happen, as when, after having first met Austerlitz accidentally, and for the next few days repeatedly without planning to meet, there follows a 20 year gap, and suddenly they do meet, continuing their conversation where they had left off. A bit hard to believe but a sense of the mystical pervade the book. Or is it a whiff of magic?.By the way, I love old railway stations. From they have a touch of magic .There is. Antwerp's OLD Centraal; also London's Liverpool Street. But not all old buildings are romantic..In Belgium he explores an architecturally weird fort, now abandoned and more or less in ruins, that served the Nazis' penchant for torture. . The book has many photos most of which are unclear; all lack titles or explanations though one can infer a lot. A shot of the fortress.shows a brutal stubborn wall with hulking round parts, all in the dead grey suggestive of extensive invisible rot. And another shot shows a lone narrow tunnel lit by a feeble lightbulb or two. Some apparently locked doors (or inside windows?) suggest....what?Sebald was German. He traveled extensively, lived in Britain for some time. His English is impeccable. I believe he died in a car accident. He was somewhere between 55 and 65. I hope his books' fate will be better than that of the Belgian fortress
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