Herta Muller, as her translator tells us, finds "words for the displacement of the soul among victims of totalitarianism." Recall the year you were seventeen. Imagine your country had lost the war. Visualize the night the victors came through your town and took you with hundreds of others to a ...
Herta Muller escribio un libro desgarrador: el holocausto rumano a manos de los rusos, las condiciones infrahumanas en el campo de concentracion, centrandose en el hambre, sumergiendonos en la deseperacion y deshumanizacion del personaje para constantemente rematar con contundencia devastadora ca...
I loved the history! Unless you're a World War II buff you'll not have heard this narrative before... Transylvanian Germans! Romania! Soviet work camps! Very interesting. :) And the bit about dancing with the dusty raisin was hilarious and sad all at the same time...I didn't really "get" the ...
2.5/5I didn't dislike this book but I couldn't say I really liked it either.Hunger Angel is the story of a in-the-closet teen sent to a labour camp at the tail end of the second world war.The characters all feel like dreams (which actually is a statement to the skill of the author) and it is beau...
«نفس بریده»، انبوهی فصل‌های کوتاه است. هر فصل تابلویی است که ماجرایی خاص را به نقش می‌کشد. هر فصل، شخصیت‌های خود را دارد و مکان خودش را درون اردوگاه – یا حتا خارج از آن – پیدا می‌کند. راوی اصلی است که همه‌ي تصویرها را بهم متصل نگه می‌دارد. پسری جوان که همه‌چیز را از درون چشمان و کله‌ی او تماشا م...
She puts on her coat, but her arms are not really in the coat. Her nightgown though is sticking out from underneath. She hikes it up so it isn’t showing. Key, money, and flashlight are stashed inside her coat pocket. The sun is lying on the kitchen table, under the table is dirt from her shoes, t...
Thursday, at ten sharp. Lately I’m being summoned more and more often: ten sharp on Tuesday, ten sharp on Saturday, on Wednesday, Monday. As if years were a week, I’m amazed that winter comes so close on the heels of late summer. On my way to the tram stop, I again pass the shrubs with the white ...