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Rake, drunkard, aesthete, gossip, raconteur extraordinaire: the narrator of Bohumil Hrabal's rambling, rambunctious masterpiece Dancing Lessons for the Advanced in Age is all these and more. Speaking to a group of sunbathing women who remind him of lovers past, this elderly roué tells the story of his life--or at least unburdens himself of a lifetime's worth of stories. Thus we learn of amatory conquests (and humiliations), of scandals both private and public, of military adventures and domestic feuds, of what things were like "in the days of the monarchy" and how they've changed since. As the book tumbles restlessly forward, and the comic tone takes on darker shadings, we realize we are listening to a man talking as much out of desperation as from exuberance. Hrabal, one of the great Czech writers of the twentieth century, as well as an inveterate haunter of Prague's pubs and football stadiums, developed a unique method which he termed "palavering," whereby characters gab and soliloquize with abandon. Part drunken boast, part soul-rending confession, part metaphysical poem on the nature of love and time, this astonishing novel (which unfolds in a single monumental sentence) shows why he has earned the admiration of such writers as Milan Kundera, John Banville, and Louise Erdrich.
A perceptive literary critic, a world-famous writer of witty and playful verses for children, a leading authority on children's linguistic creativity, and a highly skilled translator, Kornei Chukovsky was a complete man of letters. As benefactor to many writers including Alexander Solzhenitsyn and Joseph Brodsky, he stood for several decades at the center of the Russian literary milieu. It is no exaggeration to claim that Chukovsky knew everyone involved in shaping the course of twentieth-century Russian literature. His voluminous diary, here translated into English for the first time, begins in prerevolutionary Russia and spans nearly the entire Soviet era. It is the candid commentary of a brilliant observer who documents fifty years of Soviet literary activity and the personal predicament of the writer under a totalitarian regime. From descriptions of friendship with such major literary figures as Anna Akhmatova and Isaac Babel to accounts of the struggle with obtuse and hostile censorship, from the heartbreaking story of the death of the daughter who had inspired so many stories to candid political statements, the extraordinary diary of Kornei Chukovsky is a unique account of the twentieth-century Russian experience.
The first definitive, complete edition of the author's classic first novel presents a tale of love, politics, revenge, and the fate of individuals in contemporary society. By the author of The Unbearable Lightness of Being.
When Michael Henry Heim--one of the most respected translators of his generation--passed away in the fall of 2012, he left behind an astounding legacy. Over his career, he translated two-dozen works from eight different languages, including books by Milan Kundera, Dubravka Ugresic, Hugo Claus, and Anton Chekov.But Mike, as he was known to his legion of friends, was much more than that. His classes at UCLA on translation inspired a new generation of translators, and his work altering the way translation is viewed in the university will impact the livelihood of translators for decades to come.If that weren't enough, upon his death it was revealed that Heim was the anonymous donor responsible for the PEN Translation Fund--the largest fund in America supporting up-and-coming translators.Hundreds of people in the literary community were impacted by Heim's life and actions, and this book is a small way of honoring this quiet, humble man who, among many other things, is responsible for the title The Unbearable Lightness of Being (and all its variants) entering the English idiom.Comprising a number of different sections--a short autobiography, pieces from authors he worked with, worksheets detailing his teaching and translation techniques--The Man Between opens a window onto the life and teachings of Michael Henry Heim, and, similar to David Bellos's Is That a Fish in Your Ear?, will be of great interest to anyone interested in language, international culture, and the art of translation.
In this extraordinary memoir, Nobel Prize-winning author Günter Grass remembers his early life, from his boyhood in a cramped two-room apartment in Danzig through the late 1950s, when "The Tin Drum "was published.
From Powells.com: This slim little volume is packed with symbolic elements. Hantá, a small man and quintessential dreck-hero, spends his life in a dank cellar where all manner of wastepaper (bloody butcher paper, paint-splattered wallpaper, gorgeous leather-bound tomes) rains down on him from a hole in the street above. While a bitter war between brown and white rats rages in the sewer below, Hantá pushes the red and green buttons of his hydraulic press. Though each bale is a work of art lovingly created, Hantá wonders at the karmic implications of his having crushed so many mice in the course of doing his work. Bohumil Hrabal's use of repeating phrasing and vivid imagery create such a lyrical and moving experience that you'll find yourself rereading many passages again and again.
A young woman in love with a man torn between his love for her and his incorrigible womanizing; one of his mistresses and her lover - these are the 2 couples whose story is told.