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3.38 AVERAGE
3.38 AVERAGE
But later over tea, language did treason,
the boy went wrong on me,
became a terrible angel.
This is an intriguing diary/travelogue from one of the masters chronicling a six month stay in Calcutta in 1987-88. The account is larded with sketches by Grass. These afford a haunting atmosphere to the prose descriptions of poverty and merciless weather. There are two occasions when the author and his wife meet other westerners, instantly it doesn't matter whether the counterparts are Italian or Russian: the four together are European---united in the midst of this subcontinental chaos. That made me ponder my own travel experiences with my wife. The lens of prejudice could be something you can't leave behind. It is easy to compare this account with the one by Naipaul I read earlier this year. There is much sifting to be considered.
Herr Grass weaves German politics and history into his description. The 19C author Theodor Fontane becomes a companion--as he will again later in Too Far Afield. It is likely the details which will linger. Grass buys some stationary upon which he sketches. A subtle touch indicates that the paper costs a few days wages for many of those he encounters. All the while the author stands gape mouthed at the crowding and the soaring birth rate. This reminded me of Klaus Mann recalling how the literary publication The Dial brought relative prosperity to his family during the years following The Great War. These asides to a grander canvas are appreciated, as is the constant configuring of the Indian goddess Kali into an approach to a geo-political reality. I imagine some could regard that as racist, a new Orientalism, or one with a new press release anyway. Perhaps the scandal of his teen conscription into the SS has undermined the general appreciation for this master. I am curious about the future regard for Gruppe 47.
the boy went wrong on me,
became a terrible angel.
This is an intriguing diary/travelogue from one of the masters chronicling a six month stay in Calcutta in 1987-88. The account is larded with sketches by Grass. These afford a haunting atmosphere to the prose descriptions of poverty and merciless weather. There are two occasions when the author and his wife meet other westerners, instantly it doesn't matter whether the counterparts are Italian or Russian: the four together are European---united in the midst of this subcontinental chaos. That made me ponder my own travel experiences with my wife. The lens of prejudice could be something you can't leave behind. It is easy to compare this account with the one by Naipaul I read earlier this year. There is much sifting to be considered.
Herr Grass weaves German politics and history into his description. The 19C author Theodor Fontane becomes a companion--as he will again later in Too Far Afield. It is likely the details which will linger. Grass buys some stationary upon which he sketches. A subtle touch indicates that the paper costs a few days wages for many of those he encounters. All the while the author stands gape mouthed at the crowding and the soaring birth rate. This reminded me of Klaus Mann recalling how the literary publication The Dial brought relative prosperity to his family during the years following The Great War. These asides to a grander canvas are appreciated, as is the constant configuring of the Indian goddess Kali into an approach to a geo-political reality. I imagine some could regard that as racist, a new Orientalism, or one with a new press release anyway. Perhaps the scandal of his teen conscription into the SS has undermined the general appreciation for this master. I am curious about the future regard for Gruppe 47.
adventurous
challenging
dark
reflective
medium-paced
Gunter Grass, Show Your Tongue (1989, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich)
Much of The Call of the Toad, especially the character of Chatterjee, was planted in Grass' head during an almost-six-month trip to India in the mid-eighties. Show Your Tongue is Grass' travel diary of that time, a hundred pages of text, a hundred pages of drawings, and a long poem. The whole thing is in diary style (of course), impressionist, but with the sense of the diarist who is also a Nobel-winning writer; while most people would lean too heavily towards one side or the other, Grass balances fact and opinion to give as much an objective picture of what he sees around him as he can. His descriptions are, as usual, excellent, and while he rarely allows any overtly sociopolitical speech to enter the milieu of his travel diary, his disgust at what he sees infuses every word. Showing one's tongue, in Hindu culture, is a sign of shame. Grass, coming from the somewhat neat and orderly (at the time) world of West Germany, finds much for India, and in retrospect his own country, to be shamed about. He talks to many about India's "longing for a Hitler figure" (according to many of those he talked to, Ghandi was considered an anomaly, and the country's real hero is WW2 general Subhas Chandra Bose, a Nazi sympathizer who worked closely with the Japanese on a plan to crush Russia between the two countries' armies), the caste system, the awful treatment of the Chinese immigrant population, the mountains of garbage, and other similarly controversial topics. But as he exposes all this and compares it to the Germany both of the 1980s and that of the 1940s, he cannot help but be awed by the beauty of India. This was not Grass' first trip to the country, and during the fifteen years in between trips, he longed to go back. Ultimately, it is this kind of division that informs the book more than anything; attraction and repulsion, outrage and acceptance, Germany and India. ***
Much of The Call of the Toad, especially the character of Chatterjee, was planted in Grass' head during an almost-six-month trip to India in the mid-eighties. Show Your Tongue is Grass' travel diary of that time, a hundred pages of text, a hundred pages of drawings, and a long poem. The whole thing is in diary style (of course), impressionist, but with the sense of the diarist who is also a Nobel-winning writer; while most people would lean too heavily towards one side or the other, Grass balances fact and opinion to give as much an objective picture of what he sees around him as he can. His descriptions are, as usual, excellent, and while he rarely allows any overtly sociopolitical speech to enter the milieu of his travel diary, his disgust at what he sees infuses every word. Showing one's tongue, in Hindu culture, is a sign of shame. Grass, coming from the somewhat neat and orderly (at the time) world of West Germany, finds much for India, and in retrospect his own country, to be shamed about. He talks to many about India's "longing for a Hitler figure" (according to many of those he talked to, Ghandi was considered an anomaly, and the country's real hero is WW2 general Subhas Chandra Bose, a Nazi sympathizer who worked closely with the Japanese on a plan to crush Russia between the two countries' armies), the caste system, the awful treatment of the Chinese immigrant population, the mountains of garbage, and other similarly controversial topics. But as he exposes all this and compares it to the Germany both of the 1980s and that of the 1940s, he cannot help but be awed by the beauty of India. This was not Grass' first trip to the country, and during the fifteen years in between trips, he longed to go back. Ultimately, it is this kind of division that informs the book more than anything; attraction and repulsion, outrage and acceptance, Germany and India. ***