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La tarde de un escritor
Una tarde de diciembre, a la luz cambiante del ocaso, un escritor, sentado a su mesa de trabajo, decide dar un paseo por el mundo, deambular por patios, plazas y callejuelas, perderse por arrabales y volver a su casa amparado ya en la oscuridad.
En el camino quedará una doble huella: la de la mirada hacia lo exterior y la de la duda que contempla lo que está dentro de sí. Pero todo será visto como si fuera la primera vez, como si al cerrar los ojos la realidad apareciera en su verdad más pura.
Con La tarde de un escritor, Peter Handke, uno de los más grandes creadores en lengua alemana, prosigue su personal indagación en las relaciones del hombre consigo mismo y con lo que está a su alrededor
En el camino quedará una doble huella: la de la mirada hacia lo exterior y la de la duda que contempla lo que está dentro de sí. Pero todo será visto como si fuera la primera vez, como si al cerrar los ojos la realidad apareciera en su verdad más pura.
Con La tarde de un escritor, Peter Handke, uno de los más grandes creadores en lengua alemana, prosigue su personal indagación en las relaciones del hombre consigo mismo y con lo que está a su alrededor
120 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1987
About the author
Peter Handke
312 books1,194 followersPeter Handke (* 6. Dezember 1942 in Griffen, Kärnten) ist ein österreichischer Schriftsteller und Übersetzer.
Peter Handke is an Avant-garde Austrian novelist and playwright. His body of work has been awarded numerous literary prizes, including the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2019. He has also collaborated with German director Wim Wenders, writing the script for The Wrong Move and co-writing the screenplay for Wings of Desire.
Peter Handke is an Avant-garde Austrian novelist and playwright. His body of work has been awarded numerous literary prizes, including the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2019. He has also collaborated with German director Wim Wenders, writing the script for The Wrong Move and co-writing the screenplay for Wings of Desire.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 170 reviews
October 11, 2019
Handke’s narrator suffers from a writer’s block and takes a walk around town. This would be an entirely sufficient summary of the short novel, and it contains major plot spoilers.
But as I am suffering from a reader’s block, and need to get rid of it by taking a walk around in Handke’s mind, I will add some reflections, in the same way the writer in the story lets his thoughts flow randomly while he spends his afternoon doing nothing. While writer’s block is a quite well-known phenomenon (which doesn’t prevent writers from spitting out new books almost on a yearly basis), reader’s block is a complicated condition and hugely neglected in research. In my case, it was triggered by a string of emotionally difficult, but highly rewarding reading experiences, such as Christa Wolf’s Kindheitsmuster or Heinrich Böll’s The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum. Finishing those books, I felt drained, and couldn’t find my way back into my regular reading habits. Everything seemed meaningless, flat, boring.
But just like Handke’s writer forced himself to write a couple of sentences to get going again, I forced myself to read some purposely plot-free books, like The Diary of a Nobody. Constituting an exercise quite similar to doing swim motions in the air while still being reluctant to jump into the cold water, I regained my equanimity by reading unimportant, lightweight literature. Handke’s writer describes the road, or the river, or an acquaintance to get back into the habit of writing descriptions.
To finish my reader’s block therapy, I read Handke himself, and found my way back into literary language and subtle reflections. When the narrator reaches the point of recognising the huge gap between his existence as a writer, observing life from the outside, and as a regular person, trying to live it, I feel ready to be a real reader again. For that is the root of my reader’s block as well. When books get too close, impose their presence on my dreams and actions, I can’t let go, and I feel that I suffer from not being able to separate the diametrically opposed ideas of living life versus reading life.
Small details of everyday business, written down or read, help a writer or reader to find a way back to balance. That is what this story is about, and what it did to me.
I guess I am ready for Kafka and Dostoyevsky again!
But as I am suffering from a reader’s block, and need to get rid of it by taking a walk around in Handke’s mind, I will add some reflections, in the same way the writer in the story lets his thoughts flow randomly while he spends his afternoon doing nothing. While writer’s block is a quite well-known phenomenon (which doesn’t prevent writers from spitting out new books almost on a yearly basis), reader’s block is a complicated condition and hugely neglected in research. In my case, it was triggered by a string of emotionally difficult, but highly rewarding reading experiences, such as Christa Wolf’s Kindheitsmuster or Heinrich Böll’s The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum. Finishing those books, I felt drained, and couldn’t find my way back into my regular reading habits. Everything seemed meaningless, flat, boring.
But just like Handke’s writer forced himself to write a couple of sentences to get going again, I forced myself to read some purposely plot-free books, like The Diary of a Nobody. Constituting an exercise quite similar to doing swim motions in the air while still being reluctant to jump into the cold water, I regained my equanimity by reading unimportant, lightweight literature. Handke’s writer describes the road, or the river, or an acquaintance to get back into the habit of writing descriptions.
To finish my reader’s block therapy, I read Handke himself, and found my way back into literary language and subtle reflections. When the narrator reaches the point of recognising the huge gap between his existence as a writer, observing life from the outside, and as a regular person, trying to live it, I feel ready to be a real reader again. For that is the root of my reader’s block as well. When books get too close, impose their presence on my dreams and actions, I can’t let go, and I feel that I suffer from not being able to separate the diametrically opposed ideas of living life versus reading life.
Small details of everyday business, written down or read, help a writer or reader to find a way back to balance. That is what this story is about, and what it did to me.
I guess I am ready for Kafka and Dostoyevsky again!
January 5, 2020
*winner of 2019 Nobel Prize now*
A sort of candy of an existional novella. It is about just what the title says. However here we are talking about real literature writers - probably ones who concern themselves with prose and describing human emotions more than entertaining readers and plot twists. Pessoa once said something to effect that to feel your feeling more fully and more consciously (a requirement, IMO, for great writing) you need to starve yourself of too many emotions (thus you will always be conscious of the few that you do feel) - thus you need to cut away from all social contact and that is what the protagonist seems to be doing. He is definitely morehave strong feelings about nothing that happens in the afternoon and is conscious about it.
A sort of candy of an existional novella. It is about just what the title says. However here we are talking about real literature writers - probably ones who concern themselves with prose and describing human emotions more than entertaining readers and plot twists. Pessoa once said something to effect that to feel your feeling more fully and more consciously (a requirement, IMO, for great writing) you need to starve yourself of too many emotions (thus you will always be conscious of the few that you do feel) - thus you need to cut away from all social contact and that is what the protagonist seems to be doing. He is definitely morehave strong feelings about nothing that happens in the afternoon and is conscious about it.
January 21, 2023
A short, curious meditation on what it is to live one of the many days that a writer may live. Not the usual stuff about struggling with the page, wrestling to put down words on an empty piece of paper. Rather, this is a casual stroll through town. The sights and sounds encountered. The thoughts thought. Underneath it all, the questions that matter: how much of this do I put in my novel? Is any of this real? Does any of this matter?
November 17, 2019
Razigrani omot, poludžepni format, sugestivan naslov, atipična forma za današnje standarde, pripovest, kako bi rekao autor u unutrašnjem podnaslovu, mogli bi da sugerišu prijatno i kratko čitanje tokom subotnje kafe u pauzi šopinga u Segedinu, kao danas, na primer.
No, teški i mračni tonovi, neka omamljujuća praznina unutrašnjeg sveta (pisca koji je u kratkotrajnom zastoju stvaranja istog poteralo u popodnevnu šetnju spoljašnjim svetom kojem se tako retko okreće), arhaičnost, aristokratska samoća, nadmenost gospode sa kišobranima recimo, dugotrajan i detaljan monolog koji otkriva i ne inspiriše, činili su da utisci ostanu tromi i duboki.
Prometej je iz ko zna koje fioke izvukao stari tekst i izbacio ga još prošle godine, potpuno neupadljivo i nečujno, prevodilac je bio ubedljiv u svom primarnom poslu i apsolutno briljantan u pogovornoj analizi dela, i imali su dovoljno sreće da im je u ruke upao i Nobel.
U tom pogledu, omogućili su domaćem auditorijumu koji autora obožava bez da ga je ikada čitao, da ga upozna iz prve ruke, u kratkom pasažu njegove dnevne rutine iz mladjih dana.
No, teški i mračni tonovi, neka omamljujuća praznina unutrašnjeg sveta (pisca koji je u kratkotrajnom zastoju stvaranja istog poteralo u popodnevnu šetnju spoljašnjim svetom kojem se tako retko okreće), arhaičnost, aristokratska samoća, nadmenost gospode sa kišobranima recimo, dugotrajan i detaljan monolog koji otkriva i ne inspiriše, činili su da utisci ostanu tromi i duboki.
Prometej je iz ko zna koje fioke izvukao stari tekst i izbacio ga još prošle godine, potpuno neupadljivo i nečujno, prevodilac je bio ubedljiv u svom primarnom poslu i apsolutno briljantan u pogovornoj analizi dela, i imali su dovoljno sreće da im je u ruke upao i Nobel.
U tom pogledu, omogućili su domaćem auditorijumu koji autora obožava bez da ga je ikada čitao, da ga upozna iz prve ruke, u kratkom pasažu njegove dnevne rutine iz mladjih dana.
October 14, 2019
I’m not a big fan of Peter Handke. Normally, I find his scientific/objective outlook too cold, his careful prose too dour, his virtually-plotless narratives too cryptic. Nor do I find the comparisons to Beckett convincing—sure, he’s good with language (or appears to be, courtesy of his translators), but where’s the humour? And in fact, humour is thin on the ground in this book too, but something rescues it from the brittleness of his other works. As always, he’s intense. A shaft of light seems to flood whatever he describes; the details are lucid, hyper-real, otherworldly. But where so often I find his seemingly-random cacophony of images meaningless, here, thanks to the device of the writer-within-the-work, he achieves something like harmony. Added to this, the extreme focus on the writer and his work creates a mirrors-within-mirrors effect, something I always appreciate if it’s done well. For a work so full of apparent mundanities to achieve this magic is unusual, perhaps unique. And for once, Handke’s habit of paring everything to the bone does not result in something too lean or austere. There’s warmth here! And insight. And inspiration.
September 24, 2023
Ух, очекивала сам неки праскави крај, а добила сам само... не знам? Писац је легао да спава и то је то. Ваљда сам због свог сопственог застоја у писању очекивала неко савршено откровење које ће ми помоћи да се покренем, поново. Али ја нисам званични признати уметник као Хандке, нити ћу икад то бити, а и не стварам толико дуго, па можда нисам ни разумела неке реченице. Свакако ова краћушна књижица која обилује егзистенцијалним мотивима ми се допала, само да стил није био толико штур (али углавном тако иде код егзистенцијалистичких текстова). Не знам само да ли да жалим или да ликујем што сам се пронашла у неким мислима Писца.
May 18, 2025
Haciendo un homenaje al escrito homónimo de Scott Fitzgerald, Handke retoma el relato desde la mirada de un escritor que sale a dar un paseo por la ciudad, mientras deja que aquello que ve le interpele y se relacione sensible y literariamente con su interior. El escritor tiene un bloqueo, ha perdido el habla, ha perdido las palabras. Su paseo, que recuerda a El paseo, de Robert Walser, es un poco para reconocer lo cotidiano y reconocerse en ello. La mirada de los otros, hacia el escritor, en la que por momentos no se reconoce, no sabe si odio (de estudiantes obligados a leer) o admiración. La aparición de otro personaje análogo, otro escritor que señala que durante mucho tiempo todo lo que escribió le fue como dictado, era un estado, una especie de trance en el que él no tenía nada que ver, simplemente le fueron dadas por algo incognoscible esas palabras (Esto recuerda a lo que dice Jon Fosse exactamente en Misterio y fe sobre su proceso de escritura).
El minimalismo no tanto descriptivo sino narrativo, sobre todo presente en ese "todo está ahí y yo no soy nada" (Goethe) como encrucijada profunda entre el arte de observar y el de escribir, y la poesía en su mirada generosa hacia afuera y con dudas hacia adentro, construyen este camino que lleva hacia la palabra: "He empezado a escribir bajo el signo del relato. Hay que seguir. Dejar que las cosas existan. Hacerlas plausibles. Exponerlas. Legarlas. Seguir elaborando la más fugaz de las materias, tu aliento; ser su artesano". Por fin, la mirada maravillada de sí mismo y el paroxismo de la escritura tan anhelado.
El minimalismo no tanto descriptivo sino narrativo, sobre todo presente en ese "todo está ahí y yo no soy nada" (Goethe) como encrucijada profunda entre el arte de observar y el de escribir, y la poesía en su mirada generosa hacia afuera y con dudas hacia adentro, construyen este camino que lleva hacia la palabra: "He empezado a escribir bajo el signo del relato. Hay que seguir. Dejar que las cosas existan. Hacerlas plausibles. Exponerlas. Legarlas. Seguir elaborando la más fugaz de las materias, tu aliento; ser su artesano". Por fin, la mirada maravillada de sí mismo y el paroxismo de la escritura tan anhelado.
May 14, 2021
Một cuốn sách rất mỏng, chỉ có 86 trang, và gần như không có cốt truyện, chỉ kể về một người viết sau khi cả ngày chìm đắm trong những sáng tạo của mình, quyết định đi xuống ngôi làng gần nhà, và trong chuyến đi đó ông có nhìn thấy vài người, nhưng không thật sự giao tiếp với họ và sau đó ông lại trở về ngôi nhà thân thuộc của mình.
Nghe thì cỏ vẻ thật đáng chán nhưng trái lại, cuốn sách chứa đựng một tài năng khủng khiếp của một nhà văn có thể biến những điều vô nghĩa thành có ý nghĩa dù ông vẫn khẳng định chúng chẳng có nghĩa lý gì. Và ẩn trong câu chuyện có vẻ đơn gian ấy là sự cách ly của một cá nhân khỏi thế giới xung quanh, đến độ khi bước ra khỏi thế giới của mình, ông đã không khỏi cảm giác bỡ ngỡ. Cảm giác của nhân vật trong cuốn sách ít nhiều mang lại cho tôi sự đồng cảm, sau một ngày đắm chìm trong công việc và thế giới riêng, khi bước ra khỏi nhà, tôi bỗng thấy thế giới thật lạ lẫm và đầy rẫy những điều mình chưa thể nào thấu hiểu. Với lối viết đầy chất thơ mà khi đọc ta có cảm giác những ngôn từ tuyệt đẹp đang cuồn cuộn chảy, Peter Handke có cách rất riêng trong việc thể hiện những quan điểm của mình về nghiệp viết và phê bình văn chương để từ đó chỉ trong vỏn vẹn vài chục trang sách, ông khiến ta bâng khuâng về những xung đột giữa cá nhân và thế giới, về những điều đã chia rẽ chúng ta với những người xung quanh (hoặc điều đã gắn kết chúng ta với họ), về việc mất kết nối với thế giới bên ngoài để kết nối sâu hơn nữa vào thế giới bên trong.
Một cuốn sách thật thông thái và đầy tinh tế.
Nghe thì cỏ vẻ thật đáng chán nhưng trái lại, cuốn sách chứa đựng một tài năng khủng khiếp của một nhà văn có thể biến những điều vô nghĩa thành có ý nghĩa dù ông vẫn khẳng định chúng chẳng có nghĩa lý gì. Và ẩn trong câu chuyện có vẻ đơn gian ấy là sự cách ly của một cá nhân khỏi thế giới xung quanh, đến độ khi bước ra khỏi thế giới của mình, ông đã không khỏi cảm giác bỡ ngỡ. Cảm giác của nhân vật trong cuốn sách ít nhiều mang lại cho tôi sự đồng cảm, sau một ngày đắm chìm trong công việc và thế giới riêng, khi bước ra khỏi nhà, tôi bỗng thấy thế giới thật lạ lẫm và đầy rẫy những điều mình chưa thể nào thấu hiểu. Với lối viết đầy chất thơ mà khi đọc ta có cảm giác những ngôn từ tuyệt đẹp đang cuồn cuộn chảy, Peter Handke có cách rất riêng trong việc thể hiện những quan điểm của mình về nghiệp viết và phê bình văn chương để từ đó chỉ trong vỏn vẹn vài chục trang sách, ông khiến ta bâng khuâng về những xung đột giữa cá nhân và thế giới, về những điều đã chia rẽ chúng ta với những người xung quanh (hoặc điều đã gắn kết chúng ta với họ), về việc mất kết nối với thế giới bên ngoài để kết nối sâu hơn nữa vào thế giới bên trong.
Một cuốn sách thật thông thái và đầy tinh tế.
June 8, 2022
It could be convincingly argued that much of what Peter Handke has written is actually about the process of writing, of finding words to describe what is, in many cases, indescribable. Most of his characters are searching for something that they are unable or can't be bothered to define. The search takes them from one place to another, on a random or circular journey that mirrors or mimics a process of discovery. The Afternoon of a Writer is another of these works, with the significant difference that the protagonist is a writer, and what's more, a character we are invited to take to be Handke himself. His journey begins with the recollection of a time when he thought he had "lost contact with language," when he had been unable to work and thus had lost his purpose in being alive. From his suburban house, where he is living contentedly with his cat, he roams into the (unnamed European) city, spends time at a cafe, where he encounters a drunk, who lectures him in an incomprehensible vernacular, and finally to a meeting with his translator, whose cheery disposition derives from no longer being a writer. This is Handke at his challenging and enigmatic best. The Afternoon of a Writer is the product of a restless and fertile mind that refuses to let anything go unquestioned.
November 18, 2019
Lepe, lepe rečenice.
December 22, 2020
Aunque por ratos parece una lectura cansina y tediosa, una mayor concentración logra dar cuenta de la habilidad de Handke para crear una atmósfera de sosiego precisa para dar cuenta de brillantes apuntes y reflexiones sobre el arte de escribir, las turbaciones de un escritor y su compleja relación con la realidad y el otro. Mucha atención con el personaje del traductor.
July 27, 2025
Video review https://youtu.be/oxOfaPrYC64
May 29, 2017
"Ein Werk, so dachte er, war etwas, bei dem das Material fast nichts war, das Gefüge fast alles; etwas, das im Stillstand, ohne besonderes Schwungrad, in Bewegung war; bei dem alle Elemente einander in Schwebe hielten; das offen war, jedermann zugänglich, durch Gebrauch nicht abnutzbar."
Schreibend leben ist Handke die einzig mögliche Seinsform, zugleich aber ein Tabubruch, der zur Trennung von der Welt führt.
Schreibend leben ist Handke die einzig mögliche Seinsform, zugleich aber ein Tabubruch, der zur Trennung von der Welt führt.
January 14, 2020
Možda je samo do mene, ali se knjiga čini potpuno praznom i bespoentnom. Ometena nizom opisa (i još opisa koji im sleduju), deluje da sam možda propustila dublju ideju koju je Handke namenio ovom delu. Ipak, "Popodne pisca" nije ostavilo nikakav utisak na mene i čitajući ga, iako je veoma kratko, izgubila sam strpljenje relativno brzo.
June 26, 2016
Even better than Absence. Very short and similarly cinematic. I think now I will probably read everything Handke has ever written.
May 30, 2022
Уколико сте писац и тежите стварању уметничких дела знате, оно што је мени непојмљиво, да је тренутак када речи не долазе у мисли заправо трагедија, крај устаљеног начина живота. Писац је главни јунак ове невелике књиге, он је завршио свој рад, физички, порођајни, мајеутички, за данас, и све своје мисли је ставио на видело папиру, као продукт рада, посматрања претходних дана. Али шта даље? Да ли зидар или столар престају то да буду оног тренутка када посао доведу до краја? Да ли се облаче у цивилна одела и посвећују се свему ономе што породични живот представља? Да ли и писац на сличан начин довршава свој дан? Обиље слика из шетње писца након довршеног посла, обиље нових детаља и нових слика који се претварају у речи након што се током шетње и комуникације са суграђанима сам писац сусреће. У складу са својим реномеом Хандке читавој прии даје свој лични печат, свој начин живота и мисли савременог човека које се крећу од теме до теме и не морају нужно да се крећу праволинијски и у складу са током радње. У периоду периода професионалног цртања, циљ је био један квалитетан цртеж дневно, а да ли сличан циљ имају писци, осам страница на дан, четири реченице, поглавље, неки дијалог, један примећен доживљај дневно, инспиративна шетња до кафане или првог шумарка? Какав је уопште живот или поподне једног писца, како је то бити писац? Интересантна књига која се одликује током радње у складу са током мисли, која покреће бројне теме које се јављају током медитације зване шетња током слободног времена.
March 6, 2020
So, again, another book like the one I read a week(ish) ago. Here's how I imagine the conversation went:
Handke's editor: Pete, you done with the new book?
Handke: Not yet, been busy with interviews, the Nobel, you know.
E: Damn, Peter. We need to sell!
H: I know!
E: Do you have anything else we can publish now?
H: Not really... well...
E: Well what?
H: I've these few pages of self-indulgent stuff I wrote about a writer (surely not me) who goes out for a walk and instrospects about...
E: Love it, go on...
H: ... introspects about his life, how sensitive and different he is to everyone, how he likes to be alone to observe, ...
E: Awesome! It's been written since the renaissance but every romantic seems to love that, what else?
H: Well, nothing else really, he wanders around all hurt, and lonely excited to go back to his writer's desk to write... showing how special writers are, how sensitive, how much in pain they have to be to write for those poor souls that don't know how to... you know, the usual bullshit.
E: OMG, Pete. That's awesome! Send it to me. What do you want to call it?
H: I dunno... it's about a writer walking in the afternoon... "The Afternoon of a Writer"?
E: Brilliant!
Ugh.
Handke's editor: Pete, you done with the new book?
Handke: Not yet, been busy with interviews, the Nobel, you know.
E: Damn, Peter. We need to sell!
H: I know!
E: Do you have anything else we can publish now?
H: Not really... well...
E: Well what?
H: I've these few pages of self-indulgent stuff I wrote about a writer (surely not me) who goes out for a walk and instrospects about...
E: Love it, go on...
H: ... introspects about his life, how sensitive and different he is to everyone, how he likes to be alone to observe, ...
E: Awesome! It's been written since the renaissance but every romantic seems to love that, what else?
H: Well, nothing else really, he wanders around all hurt, and lonely excited to go back to his writer's desk to write... showing how special writers are, how sensitive, how much in pain they have to be to write for those poor souls that don't know how to... you know, the usual bullshit.
E: OMG, Pete. That's awesome! Send it to me. What do you want to call it?
H: I dunno... it's about a writer walking in the afternoon... "The Afternoon of a Writer"?
E: Brilliant!
Ugh.
August 31, 2020
Libro muy corto, no es un cuento, tampoco una novela, más bien como un ensayo. Y podría ser aún más corto porque sólo vale la pena leer el primer capítulo y el último.
Esperaba más de este libro y del autor; entiendo que sea un Nobel, pero definitivamente no fue esta la obra que le dio el premio: es aburrida y sin interés aunque se deja ver algo de buena narrativa en algunos apartes. De hecho antes de decidirme a leerlo investigué acerca de Handke y encontré bastantes alusiones a su caracter irreverente y políticamente incorrecto que parecían asegurar una buena lectura pero nada de esto aparece en este libro.
No lo recomiendo. Leído en Kindle.
“De la alfombra que había en el suelo se desprendía un brillo tenue que él interpretó como una señal de que en el trabajo había encontrado su propia medida del tiempo.” P.H.
Esperaba más de este libro y del autor; entiendo que sea un Nobel, pero definitivamente no fue esta la obra que le dio el premio: es aburrida y sin interés aunque se deja ver algo de buena narrativa en algunos apartes. De hecho antes de decidirme a leerlo investigué acerca de Handke y encontré bastantes alusiones a su caracter irreverente y políticamente incorrecto que parecían asegurar una buena lectura pero nada de esto aparece en este libro.
No lo recomiendo. Leído en Kindle.
“De la alfombra que había en el suelo se desprendía un brillo tenue que él interpretó como una señal de que en el trabajo había encontrado su propia medida del tiempo.” P.H.
May 12, 2017
Why was it only when alone that he was able to participate fully?
My sleep has been eroded for months now, first a deprivation of carbohydrates and now the new work responsibilities have left me precarious. I am thus aggressively self-aware during the wee hours. Peter Handke has successfully distilled such levels of examination and rendered it as literature. The protagonist is an author who finishes up his day's work, cleans around his flat and then goes for a constitutional, stops at a pub, goes to meet a translator and finally returns home. Full stop. I recommend this for all who find the day starting at 3 am.
My sleep has been eroded for months now, first a deprivation of carbohydrates and now the new work responsibilities have left me precarious. I am thus aggressively self-aware during the wee hours. Peter Handke has successfully distilled such levels of examination and rendered it as literature. The protagonist is an author who finishes up his day's work, cleans around his flat and then goes for a constitutional, stops at a pub, goes to meet a translator and finally returns home. Full stop. I recommend this for all who find the day starting at 3 am.
January 2, 2021
“By isolating myself... in order to write, I acknowledged my defeat as a social being; I excluded myself from society once and for all. Even if I sit here among the people to the end, welcomed, embraced, initiated into their secrets, I shall never be one of them.” (p. 68-69)
Wow.
Lyrical and philosophical.
I look forward to reading this novella again. 🖤
Wow.
Lyrical and philosophical.
I look forward to reading this novella again. 🖤
October 21, 2021
Svaki put nakon čitanja Handkea uspeva da dodatno i iznova osvesti nove načine prisustva u okolini i pokaže te asocijativne skokove iz nekih od najsitnijih detalja u toj okolini ka mislima, strepnjama i opservacijama čija je povezanost sa izvorom tek minimalna. Nekada bude i potpuni udav, ali vidim sebe kako se vraćam ovoj knjižici i u nekom narednom periodu definitivno, jer ne postavlja samo pitanja o prirodi dela i stvaranja, već te vodi kroz to kako bivati u prostoru i kako ga ne gledati površno, prelazeći preko njegovih oboda.
September 21, 2022
"Cada palabra no pronunciada pero hecha escritura traía las demás, y él respiraba sintiéndose de nuevo unido al mundo; únicamente con uno de esos apuntes logrados, empezaba el día para él, y entonces se encontraba a salvo, o así lo creía, hasta la mañana siguente."
July 18, 2023
In realtà 3,5.
January 20, 2016
The best thing about this book is it’s length. It is barely longer than one of my toddler’s books. Here’s a plot summery:
A writer finishes working for the day and decides to take a walk around an unnamed European city. He drinks some wine, some people watch him, an old man yells something about the “city of ruins,” he helps an old lady who has fallen over, he gets a lecture from a drunk at a bar, has a few philosophical musings about his career and live, has one appointment, goes home, the end.
One of the most boring books I’ve ever read. Nothing happens (really, nothing). This book would be like if I decided to go for a walk and then spend an hour describing all the minutia of the walk (every leaf, the glance of a passerby, etc) to one of my friends. While the walk may be beautiful for me as I experience it, the hour long description would likely leave me without any friends.
On the plus side, some sentences are beautiful and the descriptions are vivid. But descriptions without plot is like watching paint dry.
A writer finishes working for the day and decides to take a walk around an unnamed European city. He drinks some wine, some people watch him, an old man yells something about the “city of ruins,” he helps an old lady who has fallen over, he gets a lecture from a drunk at a bar, has a few philosophical musings about his career and live, has one appointment, goes home, the end.
One of the most boring books I’ve ever read. Nothing happens (really, nothing). This book would be like if I decided to go for a walk and then spend an hour describing all the minutia of the walk (every leaf, the glance of a passerby, etc) to one of my friends. While the walk may be beautiful for me as I experience it, the hour long description would likely leave me without any friends.
On the plus side, some sentences are beautiful and the descriptions are vivid. But descriptions without plot is like watching paint dry.
June 11, 2016
Does being a writer connect you to or disconnect you from the world?
January 20, 2019
A mere wisp of a novel, exactly as advertised, narrating the hours in the life of a writer between finishing his work for the day and laying down to sleep and rise to return to work the next day. In-between the act of writing that makes a writer who they are, this novel presents as meditative meanderings spent reflecting on the act of writing as well as preserving the possibility and necessity of continuing to write on the next day. Sparse, often brilliant, and so diaphanous as to feel banal occasionally as well (a good thing, I think, for life is mostly just that), The Afternoon of a Writer entranced me enough to read it twice--this time because I'm working on a novel myself in much the same tone, if a tad more overtly postmodern/ Blanchotian. I really admire the delicate, vulnerable yet stark tones of Handke's writing, always have. This one is so short I must read another right away.
October 17, 2025
Neste pequeno livro, encontrei passagens bonitas, em que o autor capta de forma quase dolorosa o que é viver dentro da própria cabeça, aquele “medo da paralisia” que parece atravessar não só o acto de escrever, mas tudo o resto. Mas, no geral, achei o livro demasiado contemplativo, por vezes até estagnado, como se o próprio texto sofresse do mesmo bloqueio que atormenta o protagonista.
Peter Handke escreve com grande sensibilidade, mas também com uma lentidão que pede paciência. É um livro que se move devagar, quase em câmara lenta. Não é um livro sobre escrita, mas sobre aprender a lidar com o vazio e sobre a inevitável solidão de quem observa demais.
Há uma beleza melancólica na forma como o tédio, o medo e o quotidiano são descritos e existe uma serenidade que lembra o cair lento da neve que cobre as pegadas de um homem que caminha só.
No geral, achei uma leitura interessante, mas algo árida. Um exercício de introspecção que, por vezes, se confunde com imobilidade e cansa.
Peter Handke escreve com grande sensibilidade, mas também com uma lentidão que pede paciência. É um livro que se move devagar, quase em câmara lenta. Não é um livro sobre escrita, mas sobre aprender a lidar com o vazio e sobre a inevitável solidão de quem observa demais.
Há uma beleza melancólica na forma como o tédio, o medo e o quotidiano são descritos e existe uma serenidade que lembra o cair lento da neve que cobre as pegadas de um homem que caminha só.
No geral, achei uma leitura interessante, mas algo árida. Um exercício de introspecção que, por vezes, se confunde com imobilidade e cansa.
September 25, 2022
Mul on tunne, et see raamat peaks mulle hullupööra meeldima, sest noh, ma olen ise kirjanik ja Handke on Nobeli preemia laureaat ja puha. Tegelikult on aga nii, et kui ma ei oleks pidanud seda ülikooli jaoks lugema, siis tõenäoliselt oleks raamat pärast mõnda lehekülge juba nurka lennanud (mitte päriselt, päriselt ikka lauanurga peale asetatud). Ja sellest oleks ka kahju olnud, sest kui võtta rohkem aega ja mõelda selle raamatu peale, siis leidsin isegi paar kohta, mis tegelikult meeldisid (kirjanik ja tõlkija!). Võimalik, et kui lugeda veel 4-5 korda läbi, siis hakkaks juba pisut rohkem meeldima. Aga ma vist eelistan siiski raamatuid, mis juba esmakordsel lugemisel mind endasse haaravad.
December 20, 2018
Knjiga „Popodne pisca” deo je donacije Novosadskoj razmeni knjiga, izdavačke kuće Prometej. Donacije autora i izdavača prihvatamo u svako doba, i iz svake od njih biramo po jednu knjigu koja će biti obrađena/ prikazana na blogu Prerazmišljavanje. Prikaz ove knjige možete očekivati do kraja godine; dodaću link u komentaru.
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