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By Peter Handke
In his most recent novel, acclaimed writer Peter Handke tells the tale of an Austrian author who explores the area and describes his many severed relationships--ranging from a delicate reference to his son to a failed marriage to a doomed love with a former omit Yugoslavia. it is a mysterious, haunting paintings, thought of a little bit autobiographical.
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And he ate . . . they usually stated . . . and while it grew to become night . . . they usually collected jointly . . . and he sat down . . . and whilst the sunlight rose . . . and we washed ourselves . . . and he said,” in huge, transparent print with huge areas, as though winged, and that i might see simul taneously every thing I had learn, within the kind of a relentless succession of “he” and “they” and “we,” set in movement through letters and clean areas, concrete and even as dancelike in a fashion i haven't as soon as en countered outdoors this publication. ninety three PETER HANDKE and prefer my examining, so too my writing. i would like . . . and that i wish . . . and that i want . . . and i've a dream. For this narrative i've got wanted for it slow the entire open questions, the working-out of probabilities, the best attainable comprehensiveness, as though it have been a legislations. Now i am hoping to extricate myself from the dovetailing of items in addition to of phrases and to shake off the heavy hand of com pulsion. greater than ever I want i'll be swept away in unquestion ing narrating, vibrating sympathetically simply as with examining, the type of narrating to which, it sort of feels to me, i haven't as soon as had a leap forward for greater than a paragraph. yet i've got dreamed the dream of it time and again, and that was once the main profound factor in me. And in my mind's eye for a while now, accurately due to my taking such a lot of detours with this current venture, my setting out down such a lot of facet roads, i will be able to consider this dream shaking unfastened, able to bounce aloft and take to the air, for the day, the table, and the deed. I feel that it's now not a dream. the picture has became a tone, a unvoiced one, to be detected simply via my feel of style, with which, intuition tells me, anything will commence and proceed, and persist, ultimately with out extra fuss or reservations or query marks, that may provide whoever reads it the power to listen to with no sound and to determine with out pictures and to pattern with no style. I additionally locate myself puzzling over even if this would now not be my moment metamorphosis, which i've been looking ahead to and dealing towards because the starting of the 12 months. may well this most likely final metamorphosis con sist in my getting down to narrate, in sentences that may be totally ordinary, within the feel of “Let your speech be yea, yea and nay, nay”? and may I hence be in the meanwhile now not the single i used to be on the start ning, nor but the individual i'll be, but additionally no longer the only I seem to be? The extra freely I experience what's coming, the extra constricting my current feels. This turning into acutely aware has consistently been an issue for me. each time it has manifested itself, it has lower me off in the course of existence from dwelling. by surprise I develop into acutely aware, and immediately my breath falters and runs out, in the course of a sentence, in the middle of existence, in the course of an upswing. My expertise has not anything in universal with any kind of cause, yet quite meddles like a daimon, destructively. Like my love, it has additionally destroyed my narrating at any time when. My 12 months within the No-Man's-Hay yet now, having complex as by no means sooner than to a level at the verge of what seems to be to me as my future, I feel that i may rid myself of my daimon, my nemesis, the crocodile in my middle, the antithesis of the legendary beast.