Inside the Head of Bruno Schulz

by Maxim Biller, Anthea Bell (Translator)

Bruno Schulz has foreseen catastrophe and is almost paralysed by fear. His last chance of survival is to leave the home town to which, despite being in his late forties, he clings as if to a comforting blanket. So he retreats into his cellar (and sometimes hides under his desk) to write a letter to Thomas Mann: appealing to the literary giant to help him find a foreign publisher, in order that the reasons to leave Drohobych will finally outweigh the reasons to stay. 
Evoking Bulgakov and Singer, Biller takes us on an astounding, burlesque journey into Schulz's world, which vacillates between shining dreams and unbearable nightmares - a world which, like Schulz's own stories, prophesies the apocalyptic events to come.

Includes two stories by Bruno Schulz: 'Birds' and 'The Cinnamon Shops', from The Street of Crocodiles.

Genres: Fiction, Short Stories, Germany, German Literature, Literature, Novella, Poland

96 pages, Paperback

First published November 7, 2013

Reviews

[Nate D · Rating 3 out of 5]

When I go to the library for blind browsing, a big part of my search image is to look for the thinnest books on the shelves. Not because I favor short works, but it seems like all the Best-seller list types have stake in taking up as much shelf space as possible. Most of the best new fiction I stumble doesn't even have a hardcover edition. And on the other hand, if I am going to read extremely short books, all the better to get them out of the library rather than pay for something I'll read in one sitting.

And so the thinnest book on the shelves this week converged with another key search image -- the similarly textured paper that adorns the covers of Archipelago and Pushkin Press titles. (Having Bruno Schulz's name in the title would also be a search image if there were enough books about him to warrant it).

That's my review of why I decided to read this slim novella. As for the actual content: this starts off enticingly, with Schulz beset by anxiety at home in 1938, writing a letter to Thomas Mann about a man claiming to be Thomas Mann who has just arrived in Schulz's small town in Poland. Biller clearly knows his Schulz and surrounds him in details that seem right, but he also makes of Schulz's writing something far more direct and dread-tinged than anything extent in his writing. Given that he would be shot by a Nazi in the street four years later, it's hard to argue with premonitions of destruction, but in the end this feels a little forced -- words put into his mouth rather than an evocation of his own. But how would Bruno Schulz actually have dealt with the holocaust in his own writing? We may never know.

And then, after Biller's version of Schulz, we get Schulz's version of Schulz, via a couple key stories from The Street of Crocodiles. Biller's story is a compelling short addendum to Schulz's legacy, but placed against real Schulz, there's really no comparison. But really, would anyone else fare well in comparison to the luminous Cinnamon Shops, which must be one of the best evocations of the unfolding of any city by night ever written. In just a handful of pages it outdoes the entirety of Last Nights of Paris, for instance.

[Eylül Görmüş · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bruno Schulz'un Tarçın Dükkanları kitabı senelerdir kütüphanemde bekliyor, kendisiyle tanışamadan imgesiyle tanıştım - Maxim Biller'ın minik novellası "Bruno Schulz'un Zihninin İçinde" ile. Alman yazar Maxim Biller’ın Türkçeye çevrilen ilk kitabı bu, sonra başka eserleri de çevrildi, bu kitaptan kendisiyle ilgili tam bir fikir edinemediğim için onlara da bakacağım.

Yazarı bol bir kitap bu, kahramanı yazar, kahramanın muhatabı yazar. Merkezde Polonyalı yazar Bruno Schulz var. Yaklaşmakta olan İkinci Dünya Savaşı'nı ve Nazi dehşetini sezen Schulz (ki zaten 1942'de gestapo tarafından sokak ortasında vurularak öldürülecekti), kendini evinin bodrum katına kapatarak Thomas Mann’a uzun bir mektup yazmaya başlıyor. "Burada siz olduğunuzu iddia ederek gezen biri var" diye başlıyor yazmaya ve Mann'ın dikkatini çekmek için bolca kurmaca ekliyor mektubuna.

Ünlü yazarın, kitaplarının yurt dışında yayımlanmasına yardımcı olabileceğini ve böylelikle Drohobych’i terk etmek zorunda kalmayacağını uman Schulz’un mektubu, ilerledikçe tuhaflaşıyor; gerçeklik, rüya ve kâbus arasında gidip gelen tuhaf bir iç hesaplaşmaya dönüşüyor.

Şöyle diyor arka kapakta: "Maxim Biller bu novellayla, insanlığın evrensel hikâyesini gerçeküstü öğelerle görkemli mitlere dönüştüren Bruno Schulz’un dünyasına eşsiz bir hayal gücüyle yeniden hayat veriyor." Schulz'u tanımadığım için bu bağlantıyı ben kuramadım ancak şehre doğru yaklaşmakta olan kolektif deliliği iliklerimde hissettim okurken. Çocuklar, güvercinler, öğretmenler - herkese sinmiş bir delilik, bir tekinsizlik hali var, sanki başlarına geleceklerin provasını yaparmış gibi bir halleri var tüm karakterlerin. Öyküye eşlik eden çizimler de bu duyguyu güçlendiriyor.

Schulz'a dair bazı gerçek bilgileri alıp tuhaf gerçeküstü unsurlarla birleştiren, epey yaratıcı ve özgün bir metin sonuçta bu - hem Biller'ı, hem Schulz'u okumak için bir istek ve merak uyandırdı içimde. Arz ederim.

[James · Rating 3 out of 5]

A homage to Bruno Schulz, thePolish author killed by the gestapo in 1942 and cited as an inspiration by all sorts of literary greats. The novella blends a surreal mix of literary fiction woven around some of the facts known about this author. Well written and interesting.

[Geticus Polus · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is an embarrassment for the name of Bruno Schulz. I don't know who this Maxim Biller is
(an author and a columnist for the Frankfurter Allgemeine Sonntagszeitung, it seems, oh my) but this gorgeous looking book by Puskhin Press should be obliterared from the recorded human history. A plebeian, unimaginative, crude story, lacking in every aspect. This is Bruno Schulz for corporate gals reading Men's Health magazine. I don't think I am risking too much if I bet ten thousand dollars that this story here has been written after Maxim Biller home printed the Bruno Schulz Wikipedia entry. For genuine, heartfelt Schulzian works I will stick with D.P. Watt and Tom Ligotti (and certain works by Quentin S. Crisp, Michael Cisco and Mark Valentine). And you should do so too.

[Tuna · Rating 3 out of 5]

Yirminci yüzyılın buhranlı ve karanlık ilk yarısında yaşamış polonyalı yahudi yazar ve resim öğretmeni Bruno Schulz’un hayatından bir kesitin anlatıldığı bu novella, daha ilk bölümde anti kahraman bir roman karakteriyle okuru tanıştırıyor. Thomas Mann’a göndermek üzere hazırladığı mektup, onun ruh durumu ve gelecek tasavvuru hakkında önemli ipuçları veriyor.

Yakın çevresindeki kısıtlı sayıda insanla kurduğu iletişim biçimi ve eskiz çizimleri onun farklı dünyasına pencereler açıyor. Görünen bu gerçekdışı manzara normal bir insan zihninin sınırlarını zorluyor. İkinci Dünya Savaşı öncesi karanlığının koyu gölgesinde bulanıklaşan hava giderek ağırlaşıyor. Polonya’nın, Almanya ve Rusya arasındaki sıkışmışlık psikozu Schulz’un da bilinçaltından atamadığı bir kabusa dönüşüyor.

[Annie · Rating 3 out of 5]

What would the inside of a writer’s mind look like? I’ve had this thought before, usually about mystery writers. But I’ve seen anyone write the answer to that question until I read Maxim Biller’s brief novella, Inside the Head of Bruno Schulz. Schulz was an actual writer. He was killed by a Nazi outside of the Drohobycz ghetto in 1942. Only a few of his works were published before his death. (One of his stories, “Cinnamon Shops,” is reproduced in this volume.) Schulz’ work shows a strong streak of surrealism and, in the two stories included in this edition of Inside the Head of Bruno Schulz by Puskhin Press, feature characters are obsessed with something to the point of dissociation from what’s happening in the world around them...

Read the rest of my review at A Bookish Type. I received a free copy of this ebook from NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.

[Sini · Rating 4 out of 5]

Over Schulz' verzameld werk en over "De kaneelwinkels & Sanatorium Clepsydra" heb ik zeer jubelende recensies geschreven, want ik ben hevig idolaat van de goede man. Dat geldt voor meer mensen: weliswaar is Schulz wegens zijn wel erg barokke en extreme verbeeldingskracht een schrijver die lang niet iedereen aanspreekt, maar voor diverse collega-schrijvers is hij precies vanwege die zo barokke en extreme verbeeldingskracht juist een lichtend voorbeeld. Philip Roth en Updike bewonderden hem; de ooit wereldberoemde Danilo Kis noemde Schulz zijn god, diverse Poolse schrijvers (Stasiuk, volgens mij ook Tokarczuk) imiteerden zijn stijl, net als onze eigen Erwin Mortier in zijn vroegste werk. Sommige schrijvers hebben zelfs in Schulziaanse stijl boeken geschreven waarin Schulz als personage optrad: Jonathan Safran Foer schreef in 2010 het curieuze "The tree of codes" dat letterlijk "De kaneelwinkels" volgt maar toch een heel ander boek is, Cynthia Ozick schreef het magnifieke "The Messiah of Stockholm" waarin een vergeefse zoektocht naar Schulz' verloren roman "De Messias" tot diverse prachtig beschreven Schulziaanse visioenen leidt, in David Grossmans bijzonder roman "Zie: liefde" staat het adembenemende hoofdstuk "Bruno" waarin Bruno Schulz door metamorfoses aan de Nazi's ontkomt en waarin Schulz enorme fantasie ook wordt ingezet als protest tegen alle onderdrukking inclusief de holocaust. Prachtig vind ik dat, en ontroerend bovendien: hoe de bij zijn leven en ook na zijn dood vaak gemarginaliseerde en naar mijn smaak ook wel miskende maar fantastische schrijver Schulz als personage en als stijlvoorbeeld voortleeft in het werk van meerdere echt goede schrijvers.

In 2013 maakte Maxim Biller een mooie nieuwe Schulz- hommage: de novelle "Im Kopf von Bruno Schulz". Wat dan helaas is vertaald als "De verloren brief aan Thomas Mann", een titel waarin de naam van Schulz ineens is verdwenen (niet om commerciële redenen, naar ik hoop). De "echte" Bruno Schulz zat ooit lang te zwoegen op een brief naar de door hem geadoreerde Thomas Mann, die hij dan naar hem zou versturen samen met de in het Duits geschreven novelle "Die Heimkehr", maar noch de brief noch de novelle zijn ooit weer gevonden. Biller nu reconstrueert in zijn novelle als het ware hoe die brief er uitgezien zou kunnen hebben: hij laat ons meeleven en meelezen met alle aarzelende overwegingen achter en kladversies van de brief, en combineert dat met fraaie beschrijvingen en observaties van hoe Bruno denkt, voelt, handelt en er uitziet. De toon van de (fictieve) brief raakt volgens mij heel treffend de toon van Schulz wel bewaard gebleven brieven: de angst voor afwijzing, de smekende toon zonder dat het verzoek heel concreet wordt omdat Schulz eigenlijk niet durft te vragen wat hij vraagt. Bovendien kiest Schulz in deze fictieve brief de omweg van fantasie en barokke fictie: hij vertelt het verhaal van een (door hem verzonnen) dubbelganger van Thomas Mann die op bezoek is in zijn stadje, en zich ook gedraagt zoals Thomas Mann zich volgens Schulz NOOIT zou hebben gedragen, en via dat verhaal vraagt hij heel indirect om erkenning en steun van de echte Thomas Mann. Zulke omwegen koos Schulz in zijn bewaard gebleven brieven niet, maar de verlegenheid uit die brieven wordt op deze wijze wel mooi benadrukt, en de voor Schulz zo essentiële waarde van fantasie komt op deze wijze ook mooi naar voren. Dat, samen met alle aarzelingen en afwegingen van Schulz bij het schrijven van de brief, maakt van deze novelle een fraaie en ontroerende beschouwing over wat voor Schulz de waarde van het schrijven was. Dat wordt nog versterkt door de passages over Schulz bewondering voor Mann, en nog meer door de soms Schulziaanse beelden die de verteller gebruikt om zijn observaties van Bruno te beschrijven. Op een gegeven moment houdt Bruno "zijn hoofd met beide handen vast - het was een heel groot, bijna driehoekig, mooi hoofd, dat in de verte deed denken aan de papieren drakenvliegers die zijn leerlingen op de eerste winderige septemberdagen oplieten bij de steengroeve van Koszmarsko -, en even later liet hij zijn hoofd met een driftig gebaar weer los, alsof hij op die manier zijn gedachten kon bevrijden". Een hoofd als een vlieger van een kind, dat zou Schulz mooi hebben gevonden. En die drang om zijn gedachten te bevrijden stond altijd centraal in zijn werk. In die zin was hij inderdaad een schrijver die vaak zijn hoofd beetpakte, misschien soms ook vol verbazing over wat daar allemaal in rondkolkte. Fraai is ook de beschrijving van "de kleine gebutste messing oortrompet die papa in zijn laatste maanden steeds maar weer tegen de vloer van hun oude huis op het Marktplein hield om beter te kunnen horen wat de daaronder wonende muizen, spinnen en marters hem te vertellen hadden". Een mooi beeld voor iedereen die de vaderfiguur uit Schulz' proza kent, die clowneske fantast die alternatieve gedachten over De Schepping wil beluisteren uit de meest ongebruikte bronnen.

De novelle geeft tussen de regels door ook veel biografische informatie, over Schulz treurige leven, zijn angst - zo fysiek aanwezig dat hij bijna tot een aanspreekbaar personage uitgroeit-, zijn twijfels, zijn sadomasochistische aanvechtingen, zijn door vernedering getekende gemoed, en ook - voorvoeld als een bijna apocalyptisch visioen- zijn eigen einde en dat van zijn Joodse vrienden en zijn vele Joodse lotgenoten. Dat doet Biller op respectvolle wijze. Maar deze novelle is vooral een respectvolle hommage door de wijze waarop Biller Schulz' stijl eer aandoet, en door de passages over aard en waarde van zijn schrijverschap. Een mooie novelle kortom, vooral voor verstokte Schulz- fans zoals ik.

[Tom · Rating 2 out of 5]

Maxim Biller's short imaginary biography of Schulz is vastly eclipsed by the inclusion of Schulz's own wonderful writing - it isn't that it's bad, but when set aside such a wondrous imagination and dreamlike hallucinatory prose such as Schulz's - comparison is natural and and Biller's inferior writing is apparent.

[Antonomasia · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a free advance copy received in exchange for an honest review, via Edelweiss and the publisher, Pushkin Press.

Publishing fiction about a more eminent writer often seems like an invitation to hubris. In the long short story (or novelette?) Inside the Head of Bruno Schulz, Biller at least does not attempt first person - albeit close-third. As an introduction to Schulz, it's perhaps not all that inviting for some readers (unless maybe you identify with Schulz in one respect or another): he is a short, socially awkward man plagued by anxiety and living with relatives in middle age; in a sexually repressive era, he appears to harbour kinky fantasies about a colleague whilst his only real-life outlet is visits to a local hooker. Frustratingly for 1938, he is gripped by The Fear about things that don't particularly matter, whilst thinking that it's unlikely Poland will be invaded. (Readers may find themselves wanting to yell at him "get out of the country!") But the ways in which the fantastical (yet not physically impossible) weaves itself into the narrative hints at an imagination which far transcends this constrained existence - besides which, the personality suggests a somewhat more generous-spirited kin to Kafka, another writer whose work is more immediately inviting than his biography. (Wasn't surprised to find, reading Schulz' Wiki page, that he translated Kafka.) Much of the story is about Schulz composing a letter to Thomas Mann [did he actually do this?], including an anecdote about a visitor to the town posing as Mann, and various imaginative digressions that would appear outre in most correspondence, but might just have been acceptable from a writer like him. I quite liked the story as a readable and lively bit of literary fiction with no stylistic irritations.

Yet it was eclipsed by the two following pieces, short stories by Schulz himself from The Street of Crocodiles. I was mostly interested in this ARC as a way to read a substantial sample of Schulz's writing, and my goodness I was not disappointed. The Street of Crocdiles' Polish title translates as The Cinnamon Shops, and if the delights of these two stories are anything to go by, that's far more fitting, and I suspect I might have already at least tried to read the collection if that had been its English name. (Embarrassing to admit when for me, there is most definitely such a thing as 'too twee'. Still, the words 'Crocodiles' and 'Sanatorium', and all the covers I've seen for English editions of Schulz give an impression of something very different - harsher and far less inviting - compared with what I read here.)
The stories are invigorating artistic constructions full of glittering wintry magic, whilst not being too sickly with sugar and spice (they put me in a similar mood to watching Bergman's Fanny & Alexander.) Schulz appears to have drawn on the basic environment of his own life whilst introducing spectacular fictional elements, as metaphor or plotline: a menagerie of birds building up in an ordinary home, or a twilight world of secret shops only open at night, brimming with exotic novelties. These two stories would be quite suitable for older children, but the language is sumptuous in a way rarely, if ever, found in YA. Descriptions have an intensity that goes straight for the senses and makes one see things anew. (I would love to be able to write like this - with a few funny bits as well.) One could see common ground with Schulz's near contemporary Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky, both born in what is now Ukraine, and producing short stories with fantastical / magic realist / slipstream inclinations in ways that don't quite fit Anglo definitions and tropes - yet I could hardly feel more differently about their work. (I found most of an NYRB Krzhizhanovsky collection to be a frustrating slog.)

Translation is an echo, but based on these two stories, I can understand why Schulz was considered one of the greatest stylists of the twentieth century in his original language. Here are two openings of Schulz stories which focus on the same subjects, winter and the narrator's father at home, but there is so much different to say in each, with equal richness of writing (translated by Celina Wieniewska):

Came the yellow days of winter, filled with boredom. The rust-colored earth was covered with a threadbare, meager tablecloth of snow full of holes. There was not enough of it for some of the roofs and so they stood there, black and brown, shingle and thatch, arks containing the sooty expanses of attics — coal black cathedrals, bristling with ribs of rafters, beams, and spars — the dark lungs of winter winds...
The days hardened with cold and boredom like last year’s loaves of bread. One began to cut them with blunt knives without appetite, with a lazy indifference.
Father had stopped going out. He banked up the stoves, studied the ever-elusive essence of fire, experienced the salty, metallic taste and the smoky smell of wintry salamanders that licked the shiny soot in the throat of the chimney.
From 'Birds'

At the time of the shortest, sleepy winter days, edged on both sides with the furry dusk of mornings and evenings, when the city reached out deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of winter nights, and was shaken reluctantly into consciousness by the short dawn, my father was already lost, sold and surrendered to the other sphere. His face and head became overgrown with a wild and recalcitrant shock of gray hair, bristling in irregular tufts and spikes, shooting out from warts, from his eyebrows, from the openings of his nostrils and giving him the appearance of an old ill-tempered fox. His sense of smell and his hearing sharpened extraordinarily and one could see from the expression of his tense silent face that through the intermediary of these two senses he remained in permanent contact with the unseen world of mouse holes, dark corners, chimney vents, and dusty spaces under the floor. He was a vigilant and attentive observer, a prying fellow conspirator, of the rustlings, the nightly creakings, the secret gnawing life of the floor.
From 'Cinnamon Shops'.

[David Karlsson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jag har en lite kluven relation till författaren Bruno Schulz. När jag häromåret läste hans två böcker "Kanelbutikerna" och "Sanatoriet Timglaset" var det långtifrån en njutningsfull läsning; det var böcker som jag ville gilla mer än jag faktiskt gjorde. Med det sagt har de ändå lämnat starka avtryck och framstår såhär i efterhand som bättre än vad jag då tyckte att de var, och som något jag kanske borde återbesöka vid tillfälle.

Istället ramlade jag över den här tunna boken, inte mer än en novell egentligen, som har Schulz som sin huvudperson. Han sitter i en källare i sin hemstad Drohobycz och försöker formulera ett brev till Thomas Mann (en författare som den verkligen Schulz beundrade) om att en dubbelgångare till honom dykt upp i staden.

Biller lånar friskt från både Schulz biografi och fiktion. Berättelsen blir snabbt allt mer bisarr, med talande fåglar och människor som låter sig spännas för vagnar som hästar, men även illavarslande. Det faktum att Schulz kom att mördas av nazisterna finns som en viktig biografisk detalj i sammanhanget.

Det är på många sätt vanskligt att skriva om och som en tidigare författare, risken är att det bara blir en blek kopia. Och Schulz-fanatikern skulle säkert vara snabb med att säga att det här inte är annat än en "Schulz for dummies". Själv njuter jag från första till sista sidan, mer än jag gjorde när jag läste Schulz själv men säkerligen mycket just för att jag gjort det. Och jag blir dessutom ännu mer sugen än tidigare på att läsa om Schulz, kanske med resultatet att jag efter det själv sållar mig till Billers belackare. Men till dess är det här något av det härligaste jag läst på länge.

[Claire Marleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Meiner Meinung nach Billers bestes Buch, ab jetzt geht’s glaub ich erstmal bergab

[Oni · Rating 4 out of 5]

Take the sinister images that emerged about the Holocaust and life in Poland after the Nazi invasion. Imagine the all-consuming, terrible fear that those with foresight must have felt at the ominous signs scattered everywhere before WWII’s outbreak. Blend them in a feverish, surrealist dream and stir it methodically in an old washing machine, abandoned to birds nesting in its tumbling body. Add historical and literary subtext, bibliographical details from the life of Bruno Schulz, and an abundance of allusions to his work and you get a first intimation of what Inside the Head of Bruno Schulz amounts to.

Maxim Biller’s novella is not only a tribute to a magnificent writer who inspired other giants, from J.M Coetzee and Philip Roth to Salman Rushdie and Danilo Kiš, it’s also a work of art in itself and an exploration of what shapes an artist’s vision - that mysterious point between conscious and subconscious from which ideas emerge, inextricably bound to the writer’s personal and historical context.

When describing this novella, many tend to insist on the portrait of the artist as a man suffering from psychotic delusions. I for one think that such a literal interpretation is an over-simplification, for despite its brevity, Inside the Head of Bruno Schulz is richly layered, brimming with symbols and allegory. I found it both a vivid metaphor for the madness that enveloped the world during WWII and a sharp depiction of palpable anxiety. Omnipresent fear weighing one down, like a boulder. An uninterrupted stream of dark treacle enveloping everything, accentuating monstrous figures behind most shapes. I couldn’t think of the narrator in terms of sanity or insanity. But I did question our usual views of those notions and thought about the mass insanity ruling the day at so many points in history.

Biller’s work is apparently seen as rather provocative. This was my first encounter with his work, so I’ve no idea about the rest, but this novella is worthwhile and loaded with meaning. And to make this slim volume even greater, Pushkin Press also included two short stories by Bruno Schulz himself, both heavily alluded to by Biller.

[Ola · Rating 3 out of 5]

3,5⭐️

[Myriam · Rating 5 out of 5]

Waarom de originele titel 'Im Kopf von Bruno Schulz' zo'n merkwaardige vertaling kreeg is niet helemaal duidelijk, tenzij de naam 'Thomas Mann' verondersteld werd meer verkooppotentieel te hebben?
Maar hoewel Schulz inderdaad een brief aan Mann zou geschreven hebben is daar geen spoor van opgedoken in de archieven. Biller 'fantaseert' dus de brief en kruipt daarvoor in het hoofd van Bruno Schulz die 'zolang hij zich kon herinneren (…) iedere ochtend angstig wakker [werd]. Samen met de angst ging hij ontbijten in het theehuis van Lisowksi, de angst begeleidde hem naar het Gymnasium en keek over zijn schouder mee (…). De angst was er als hij in de pauzes met andere leraren praatte (…).' De angst zit in zijn maag 'als een grote, warme, grauwe klomp die zich onafgebroken ratelend omdraaide'.
Hij vlucht naar de kelder en schrijft aan Thomas Mann over de 'vermeende Thomas Mann' waarvan hij niet kan geloven dat het de echte is, want deze Thomas Mann is een farce die geen enkele geloofwaardigheid heeft voor hem. Bovendien heeft deze vermeende Thomas Mann aangekondigd naar het buitenland te vertrekken, in deze onzekere tijden nog wel. ''Helaas reis ik morgen alweer terug naar Zürich om mijn vrouw en kinderen op te halen. Dan nemen we de trein naar Marseille, daarvandaan reizen we per schip naar New York. We hebben een prachtige villa in Princeton op het oog. Ik denk dat ik die contant kan betalen met de voorschotten voor het laatste deel van de Joseph-tetralogie. Het spijt me zeer dat ik u hier zo moet achterlaten. Ik weet het, de tijden worden er niet beter op. De garanties van de geallieerden zijn, zoals we konden zien bij de arme Tsjechen en Slowaken, niets waard. Maar de goede heer Katanauskas heeft zijn belofte gehouden, eindelijk mogen we naar Amerika. Hoe dom zou het zijn om niet te gaan, nietwaar?' Iedereen zette - als één man - een grote stap in zijn richting, toen nog een, en nog een. Zachtjes mompelden ze 'O wee' en 'Alstublieft niet'.'
Bruno Schulz is ervan overtuigd dat de vermeende Thomas Mann een agent van de geheime staatspolitie is, hij wil de echte Thomas Mann waarschuwen maar hem ook vragen zijn manuscript te lezen dat hij bij de brief insluit… 'ik geloof niet dat het zin heeft te wachten tot nog meer Duitsers uw dubbelganger naar hier zullen volgen. Hopelijk komen ze helemaal niet, en als ze komen, zullen het vast geen literatuurliefhebbers zijn.'
'De verloren brief aan Thomas Mann' is een kleine maar uiterst veellagige novelle over een schrijver die zijn lot duur moest bekopen (na als 'huisjood' te hebben moeten werken voor een Gestapo-officier werd hij in 1942 op straat neergeschoten door een andere Gestapo-officier) aan een schrijver die op het toppunt van zijn roem zonder al te veel scrupules zijn vaderland verlaat en voor veiligheid en ballingschap kiest.

[Ben G · Rating 3 out of 5]

Korte novelle over de angstige, voorspellende koorts visioenen die de pools-joodse schrijver Bruno Schulz kort voor de tweede wereldoorlog had.

[Mandy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bruno Schulz was a Polish Jewish writer, who, in spite of only publishing 2 collections of short fiction, has been much praised by writers from J M Coetzee to Philip Roth and many others on the way. Another writer who admires his work is Berlin-based author Maxim Biller. In this short novella he tries to get inside the head of Bruno Schulz as he writes a letter to Thomas Mann telling him that an imposter has arrived in town, who Schulz thinks is a Nazi spy. What happens after the imposter’s arrival is all rather bizarre and surreal and I found it quite difficult to fathom what was going on. In fact, if I hadn't read up about Bruno Schulz shortly after starting the novella I would have been even more bemused. Schulz experiences hallucinations, has trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy and is obviously a very troubled soul. Set in Poland in 1938 some of the images clearly presage the Holocaust and are quite disturbing. I wasn’t really persuaded by Biller’s mixing of fact and fiction, however, although I’m pleased to have been introduced to the writing of Schulz himself – Pushkin Press have helpfully included two of Schulz’s stories in this volume. So for me this was a literary curiosity rather than a satisfying read, but nevertheless an intriguing introduction to an intriguing and little known author.

[Helen Marquis · Rating 3 out of 5]

It has to be said that the two short stories by Bruno Schulz are by far the best elements contained within this tome.
The Maxim Biller short is a far stranger, portraying Schulz as a paranoid maniac, who retreats to his cellar to write a letter to Thomas Mann. He imagines his students as birds tapping on the window and tweeting at him. When his mania kicks in, he explores the bestial sides of his nature, stripping naked, growling, howling, and generally regressing down the evolutionary path. It's not without its merits, but it does struggle to hold its own when compared to the sublime stylings from Schulz that follow.

[Lisajean · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 for the titular novella, 5 for the stories by Schulz, of course. The comparison wasn’t good for Biller.

[Lily · Rating 5 out of 5]

This slim little novella (which by the way had the most pleasingly textured paperback cover and stood diminutively at about 5 inches tall, making me feel a little like I was reading a book for dolls) was quite a feat. I loved the Bruno Schulz stories I read years ago, and was so excited to read this. Maxim Biller does a pretty good imitation of Bruno Schulz's dreamlike, totally-detached-from-reality writing style. Bruno Schulz stars in this book as the anxious, slightly manic professor writing a letter to Thomas Mann, letting him know there is an imposter pretending to be Thomas Mann who has descended upon his provincial town of Drohobycz, Poland. Peppered with little details from Street of Crocodiles and Sanitorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass (the servant Adela, lots of bird references, the town itself), Bruno frets over the implications of a fake Thomas Mann, and worries that other, more nefarious Germans will follow (it's 1938 in Poland.) Fear is a character, appearing and disappearing without warning. Bruno's semi-love interest Helena is described as an attractive blonde woman with an unkempt appearance, rat's nest hair and a terrible smell. My favorite element was that Bruno's students were half-human half-dove creatures who shed their feathers wantonly and peck their little beaks in their teachers' hair to suck up for better marks. In the end, the fake Thomas Mann proves himself to be threatening and anti-Semitic, and Bruno, surprised at finding himself unable to walk limps off to join some kind of vaguely defined apocalypse.

I loved this so much. If you asked me what the significance was of these weird threads, I'm not sure I'd be able to tell you. World War II allegory? No, because it was a too literal for an allegory. I'm a little at a loss as to what I just read, but I loved every minute of it. Parts of it reminded me of Master and the Margarita. Other parts reminded me of Kafka. I actually read it twice! I just had to savor each weird little detail. Now I'm very curious to read other stuff Maxim Biller wrote. I love this kind of writing. Totally nebulous and murky and magical realist in the strangest, best way.

[Burkhard Schirdewahn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Maxim Biller begibt sich in seinem neuen Buch Im Kopf von Bruno Schulz in die Innenperspektive des polnisch-jüdischen Dichters und Grafikers Bruno Schulz (1892 – 1942), der im Jahr 1938, die bedrohliche Expansion des Nationalsozialismus in Europa vor Augen & die unmittelbar bevorstehende Vernichtung des osteuropäischen Judentums bereits ahnend, in seiner galizischen Heimatstadt Drohobycz einen Brief an Thomas Mann verfaßt. Darin schildert er zum einen das rätselhafte Auftauchen eines scheinbaren Doppelgängers von Thomas Mann in der verschlafenen Provinzstadt, zum anderen bittet er den berühmten Dichter, er möge sich doch für sein eigenes, in Westeuropa nahezu unbekanntes, schriftstellerisches Werk einsetzen.
In düsteren Farben und mittels der literarischen Phantastik entlehnten Bildern & Allegorien zeichnet Biller in dieser Novelle ein Bildnis des Künstlers als unglücklicher Mensch & eine Momentaufnahme einer am Rande des Zusammenbruchs stehenden Welt.

[Michael Burgess · Rating 2 out of 5]

I just don’t think it was for me, I had to get this book for an English class u took in college and never actually read it so I wanted to give it a shot. It was just overly descriptive with things thsts didn’t seem to matter but maybe I was missing the point. I kind enjoyed the first story he wrote at the end of the book but even then it all just seems so confusing and overall hard to follow what’s even happening

[Tony Jemmett · Rating 4 out of 5]

The story by Maxim Biller was insular and disturbing partly because you felt the oncoming of the world at that time and place, and partially in the way the edge of madness can be magical and unnerving at the same time. I lived in the imagery. The two short stories by Bruno Schulz were evocative with a beautiful use of descriptive language. really enjoy this little treat.

[Esther · Rating 3 out of 5]

Inside my head I wonder how I had gotten into the head of Bruno Schulz whilst reading words sentences paragraphs pages chapters for clues. Then somewhere something emerges, Street of Crocodiles, the root of JSF’s Tree of Codes, there it was, clarity! The AHA moment, mystery solved.

[Ben Jammin' · Rating 3 out of 5]

If only the main course was as well written as the two short desserts it was trying complement.

I definitely want to read more Bruno Schulz now: his voice is perfect, the stories succinct and deep.

Feeling wary that Maxim Biller's other work might be as exclusive as this.

[Tamar Nagel · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was disappointing, I'd get way more out of reading Schulz himself. I found this book unnecessary.

[Maria Bache · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hvordan ser der ud inden i en psykisk syg hjerne? Her er der gættet på afstand af lang tid, og om der er gættet rigtigt, er umuligt at vide. Det er et interessant og sammenhængende gæt.

[Mykyta Kuzmenko · Rating 2 out of 5]

Значит книга самого Биллера это точно не для меня, а вот рассказы Шульца которые есть вконце очень даже приятные.

[Josy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Maxim Biller ist in Romanform sehr viel erträglicher als in der ZEIT.

[blake]

jakis dziwaczny fanfik

[Freida · Rating 3 out of 5]

Gibt mir magischer Realismus vibes