Of All That Ends
The final work of Nobel Prize–winning writer Günter Grass—a witty and elegiac series of meditations on writing, growing old, and living in the world
1123108968
Of All That Ends
The final work of Nobel Prize–winning writer Günter Grass—a witty and elegiac series of meditations on writing, growing old, and living in the world
27.99 In Stock
Of All That Ends

Of All That Ends

by Günter Grass
Of All That Ends

Of All That Ends

by Günter Grass

eBook

$27.99 

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Overview

The final work of Nobel Prize–winning writer Günter Grass—a witty and elegiac series of meditations on writing, growing old, and living in the world

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780544787636
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Publication date: 06/01/2018
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 192
File size: 37 MB
Note: This product may take a few minutes to download.

About the Author


GÜNTER GRASS (1927–2015), Germany's most celebrated contemporary writer, attained worldwide renown with the publication of his novel The Tin Drum in 1959. A man of remarkable versatility, Grass was a poet, playwright, social critic, graphic artist, and novelist. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in literature in 1999.
 

Read an Excerpt

FREE AS A BIRD
 
When the pipe smoker’s heart, lung, and kidneys sent him to the workshop for yet another stay, hooked him up to an intravenous drip, a wretched fellow, and forced him to swallow a growing pile of pills ​— ​round, oblong, brightly colored ​— ​all whispering warnings on their side effects; when grumpy old age kept asking peevishly “How much longer?” and “What’s the point?” and neither lines of ink nor strings of words flowed from his hand; when the world with its wars and collateral damage slipped away, and he sought only sleep, a sleep torn to rags, and estranged from himself he began to lick his wounds in self-pity; when the last fountain had run dry, I was revived, as if mouth-to-mouth resuscitation were still in use, by the moist kiss of a part-time muse on call, and images and words came crowding in; paper, pencil, brush lay close at hand, autumnal Nature made its frail offering, watercolors began to flow; I delighted in scribbling and, fearing a relapse, began eagerly to live again.
    To feel myself. Light as a feather free as a bird, though long since fit to be shot down. Unleash the dog with no sense of shame. Become this or that. Awaken the dead. Wear my pal Baldanders’ rags for a change. Lose my way on a single-minded quest. Seek refuge among ink-lined shadows. Say: Now!
     It seemed as if I could change skins, grasp the thread, cut the knot, as if this rediscovered happiness had a name I could say again.
 
 
ON EACH NEW LEAF
 
With red chalk, lead, graphite,
with goose-quill and ink pen,
with sharp pencils, full brush,
and charcoal from Siberia’s woods,
with watercolors damp on damp,
then back to black and white ​— ​
to scales of layered grays,
bring forth the shadows’ silver gleam;
and since from death-like death
the muse’s kiss first startled me,
forcing me stark-bare naked
into brightness,
I’ve looked on each new leaf in turn,
obsessed by yellow,
mustard-dazed,
enflamed by red,
faded by fall,
hoping the green would wake again,
seeking the way out, wafting gently,
like a feather falling from the blue.
 
SEPIA AU NATUREL
 
Again and again the dream where I milk a midsize squid. It’s easy underwater, like making love to a daring mermaid strayed from her flock.
    You swim up from behind, quite innocently, stay patient, and when the moment is right, attach the pump to the muscular opening of the gland and activate it by pressing a small button. Soon, half forced, half willingly, the squid expels what’s normally released as a dark cloud to befog a nearby enemy.
    That happened a lot at first, when I was in too great a hurry to harvest the inky brew. Time would go by and still nothing. I would run out of breath. Surface, then try again. Milking squids, like pleasuring mermaids, takes practice.
    Since then black milk stands stored in canning jars, a borrowed metaphor. A soupy extract used for pen and brittle brush drawings alike. Washed they reveal streaks of a slimy substance.
    The drawings retain the smell long after, at first fresh, then increasingly pungent; especially on days of high humidity, the squid-ink ink recalls its origin.

Table of Contents

Title Page,
Contents,
Copyright,
Frontispiece,
Dedication,
Free as a Bird,
On Each New Leaf,
Sepia au Naturel,
In an Endless Line,
Swoon,
Evening Prayer,
Abundance,
Snail Mail,
My Own Sounds,
Soliloquy,
With Staying Power,
I Lack the Strength,
On the Inner Life,
Which Came First,
Farewell to What Teeth Remain,
Over the Abyss,
The Last One,
Self-Portrait,
Standing Singly and in Fairy Rings,
Complaints of a Traveler Grown Sedentary,
Innards,
Once,
On Payments,
In Frankfurt am Main,
Everyday Events,
Property,
What Bird Was Brooding Here?,
Letters,
Libu?e My Love,
Where His Humor Fled,
In the Rollwenzelei Inn,
A Late-Night Visit,
After Endless Torment,
And Then Came Xaver,
According to the Weather Report,
Still Life,
A Lingering Aftertaste,
Roasted Almonds,
When My Sense of Taste and Smell Deserted Me,
Farewell to the Flesh,
Stacked Lumber,
Xenophobia,
How and Where We Will Be Laid to Rest,
To Pass the Time,
That's by Me?,
Farewell to Franz Witte,
Light at the End of the Tunnel,
Mutti,
Homesickness,
When, as Required by Law,
These Are Facts,
Before It's Too Late,
Covered Losses,
A Winter Too Mild,
The Owl's Stare,
About Clouds,
Rising to Heavenly Heights,
On Writing,
Grandpa's Beloved,
Yours and Mine,
When the Monster's Eyes Turn Green,
Fear of Loss,
Gone Gone Gone,
In the Greenhouse,
March Again,
Unteachable,
The End,
My Boulder,
What the Beachcomber Finds,
Last Hope,
Now,
So They Can Converse,
Nail and Rope,
Suggestion for a Souvenir,
Twisting a Rope,
Painting Portraits,
Stared Right Through Me,
On the First Sunday,
On the Back Pew,
Superstition,
He Called Three Times,
Dear Schnurre,
Stolen Goods,
Found Objects,
In What's Left of the Altstadt,
Dances of Death,
Stared Right Through,
Tracing Tracks,
Hunting Season,
Open Season,
Summing Things Up,
Balancing the Books,
August,
In This Summer Filled with Hate,
Herr Kurbjuhn's Question,
Of All That Ends,
Sample Chapter from THE TIN DRUM,
Buy the Book,
About the Author and Translator,
Connect with HMH,

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