What do you think?
Rate this book
Λυκόφως
English, German (translation)
152 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1979
28 people want to read
About the author
Stephan Hermlin
54 books3 followersStephan Hermlin (1915 – 1997), real name Rudolf Leder, was a German author and translator of French texts. Hermlin was notable for his stories, essays and poetry and was one of the best-known writers in the GDR.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
April 1, 2018
Eine Vielzahl von Episoden, meist aus Hermlins Kindheit und Jugendzeit,
kurz bevor er in die Illegalität abtauchen musste.
Darin wird geschildert, wie er zum Aussenseiter wurde, als sich die meisten
seiner Altersgenossen für den aufkommenden Nationalsozialismus begeisterten,
während er Kommunist wurde.
kurz bevor er in die Illegalität abtauchen musste.
Darin wird geschildert, wie er zum Aussenseiter wurde, als sich die meisten
seiner Altersgenossen für den aufkommenden Nationalsozialismus begeisterten,
während er Kommunist wurde.
October 13, 2013
I bought this book only recently, and purely by chance. In fact, I just needed change to buy a ticket for the tube and did not want to spend money on a second, or even third breakfast. So I ended up in a bookstore and left it with a volume of poems by Eva Strittmatter and Hermlin’s book.
Although I never had read a book by Hermlin before, I had heard his name when I was young. I understood he used to be one of the most remarkable (positively as well as negatively) writers from the German Democratic Republic. And I took notice of his death in 1997. But he was a distant figure for me, and I never heard anything about the row that raged in 1996 over the details of his (invented) biography and was kindled by his book Evening Light.
As such, I was able to read Evening Light without much of the background that caused the irritations back in 1996. I did not know anything about Hermlin’s biography. I did not know that he had used most of the stories told in Evening Light as autobiographical illustrations of his own life.
This led me to a number of different judgments. I did not for an instant interpret this book as an autobiographical collection of short stories. For me, it has been, and to some extent it still is: fiction. Fiction based upon the historical background of history as it played out in the first half of the 20th century. However, looking back, some cornerstone’s of Hermlin’s biography made me think.
For me, the quality of the book does not lie in the political views laid out in its stories. The title, Evening Light, may or may not refer to the Eve of European Democracy, of Civilization previous to World War II and the Death Camps. I tend to handle books from the GDR with great caution when it comes to political analysis. As such, I have to say I was at times very annoyed with Hermlin’s outspoken communist propaganda. But precisely this propaganda and its tone especially seemed rather ambiguous to me. How come that in Hermlin’s prose open praise of Stalin as a saviour who is going to lead the USSR towards a bright future goes together with the praise of Soviet avantgardism, a movement that has been crushed by this very same supreme leader? And in another story dealing with defectors from the German KP to the Nazis in early 1933, Hermlin not only writes that a countless number of friends became guilty of treason towards communist ideals and changed sides, he also names one of these former friends directly: Erich M. Now, Hermlin was at times a close friend of Erich Honecker, but he also devoted himself to the peace movement in the GDR, he protested against the invasion of Prague in 1968 and tried to protect Biermann and other artists. As a consequence, Hermlin ran into severe trouble with the ruling SED (though he continued to be a member) and became heavily supervised by the Ministry for State Security, through the omnipotent Stasi, commanded by comrade Erich Mielke. Did Hermlin hide some allusions here?
Be that as ist may, for me, the all-to-often heroic narrative that coins the political passages of the book spoilt the reading experience for me. But this does not mean I could not recommend the book. It is, after all, a documentary of sorts. Many of the told stories might not have happened to Hermlin, or they might not have happened at all, but they could have happened. They do fit into time and place, and in the end, it is totally irrelevant if those people witnessing the murder of Karl Liebknecht in Berlin’s street had been Hermlin’s parents or another, random family. The fact remains: they were there. And there were many public murders to witness during these times. While Hermlin seems to tell about a single, very concrete fate – allegedly “his” own -, he in fact tells of fragments from a collective past. Many fathers have been send to death camps, did not lose their pride and died when their strength left them – or the gas chamber opened its doors. Many brothers fell as soldiers in the war against Hitler’s army. In the end, it turns out to be irrelevant whether Hermlin was there in person or not.
And, as I indicated: the parts on politics are not at all the books strongest. Hermlin shines as a writer not when he describes his way within communist ranks and his belief in Stalin, but when he writes about atmospheres and about inter-personal relations. Here, Hermlin can be poetic, here he is able to catch the essence of love and despair (as in the wonderful piece on his father’s younger brother). These are the passages that fully justify the rather allegoric title of Evening Light and make the book a read to remember.
Although I never had read a book by Hermlin before, I had heard his name when I was young. I understood he used to be one of the most remarkable (positively as well as negatively) writers from the German Democratic Republic. And I took notice of his death in 1997. But he was a distant figure for me, and I never heard anything about the row that raged in 1996 over the details of his (invented) biography and was kindled by his book Evening Light.
As such, I was able to read Evening Light without much of the background that caused the irritations back in 1996. I did not know anything about Hermlin’s biography. I did not know that he had used most of the stories told in Evening Light as autobiographical illustrations of his own life.
This led me to a number of different judgments. I did not for an instant interpret this book as an autobiographical collection of short stories. For me, it has been, and to some extent it still is: fiction. Fiction based upon the historical background of history as it played out in the first half of the 20th century. However, looking back, some cornerstone’s of Hermlin’s biography made me think.
For me, the quality of the book does not lie in the political views laid out in its stories. The title, Evening Light, may or may not refer to the Eve of European Democracy, of Civilization previous to World War II and the Death Camps. I tend to handle books from the GDR with great caution when it comes to political analysis. As such, I have to say I was at times very annoyed with Hermlin’s outspoken communist propaganda. But precisely this propaganda and its tone especially seemed rather ambiguous to me. How come that in Hermlin’s prose open praise of Stalin as a saviour who is going to lead the USSR towards a bright future goes together with the praise of Soviet avantgardism, a movement that has been crushed by this very same supreme leader? And in another story dealing with defectors from the German KP to the Nazis in early 1933, Hermlin not only writes that a countless number of friends became guilty of treason towards communist ideals and changed sides, he also names one of these former friends directly: Erich M. Now, Hermlin was at times a close friend of Erich Honecker, but he also devoted himself to the peace movement in the GDR, he protested against the invasion of Prague in 1968 and tried to protect Biermann and other artists. As a consequence, Hermlin ran into severe trouble with the ruling SED (though he continued to be a member) and became heavily supervised by the Ministry for State Security, through the omnipotent Stasi, commanded by comrade Erich Mielke. Did Hermlin hide some allusions here?
Be that as ist may, for me, the all-to-often heroic narrative that coins the political passages of the book spoilt the reading experience for me. But this does not mean I could not recommend the book. It is, after all, a documentary of sorts. Many of the told stories might not have happened to Hermlin, or they might not have happened at all, but they could have happened. They do fit into time and place, and in the end, it is totally irrelevant if those people witnessing the murder of Karl Liebknecht in Berlin’s street had been Hermlin’s parents or another, random family. The fact remains: they were there. And there were many public murders to witness during these times. While Hermlin seems to tell about a single, very concrete fate – allegedly “his” own -, he in fact tells of fragments from a collective past. Many fathers have been send to death camps, did not lose their pride and died when their strength left them – or the gas chamber opened its doors. Many brothers fell as soldiers in the war against Hitler’s army. In the end, it turns out to be irrelevant whether Hermlin was there in person or not.
And, as I indicated: the parts on politics are not at all the books strongest. Hermlin shines as a writer not when he describes his way within communist ranks and his belief in Stalin, but when he writes about atmospheres and about inter-personal relations. Here, Hermlin can be poetic, here he is able to catch the essence of love and despair (as in the wonderful piece on his father’s younger brother). These are the passages that fully justify the rather allegoric title of Evening Light and make the book a read to remember.
October 20, 2024
I bought this book only recently, and purely by chance. In fact, I just needed change to buy a ticket for the tube and did not want to spend money on a second, or even third breakfast. So I ended up in a bookstore and left it with a volume of poems by Eva Strittmatter and Hermlin’s book.
Although I never had read a book by Hermlin before, I had heard his name when I was young. I understood he used to be one of the most remarkable (positively as well as negatively) writers from the German Democratic Republic. And I took notice of his death in 1997. But he was a distant figure for me, and I never heard anything about the row that raged in 1996 over the details of his (invented) biography and was kindled by his book Evening Light.
As such, I was able to read Evening Light without much of the background that caused the irritations back in 1996. I did not know anything about Hermlin’s biography. I did not know that he had used most of the stories told in Evening Light as autobiographical illustrations of his own life.
This led me to a number of different judgments. I did not for an instant interpret this book as an autobiographical collection of short stories. For me, it has been, and to some extent it still is: fiction. Fiction based upon the historical background of history as it played out in the first half of the 20th century. However, looking back, some cornerstone’s of Hermlin’s biography made me think.
For me, the quality of the book does not lie in the political views laid out in its stories. The title, Evening Light, may or may not refer to the Eve of European Democracy, of Civilization previous to World War II and the Death Camps. I tend to handle books from the GDR with great caution when it comes to political analysis. As such, I have to say I was at times very annoyed with Hermlin’s outspoken communist propaganda. But precisely this propaganda and its tone especially seemed rather ambiguous to me. How come that in Hermlin’s prose open praise of Stalin as a saviour who is going to lead the USSR towards a bright future goes together with the praise of Soviet avantgardism, a movement that has been crushed by this very same supreme leader? And in another story dealing with defectors from the German KP to the Nazis in early 1933, Hermlin not only writes that a countless number of friends became guilty of treason towards communist ideals and changed sides, he also names one of these former friends directly: Erich M. Now, Hermlin was at times a close friend of Erich Honecker, but he also devoted himself to the peace movement in the GDR, he protested against the invasion of Prague in 1968 and tried to protect Biermann and other artists. As a consequence, Hermlin ran into severe trouble with the ruling SED (though he continued to be a member) and became heavily supervised by the Ministry for State Security, through the omnipotent Stasi, commanded by comrade Erich Mielke. Did Hermlin hide some allusions here?
Be that as ist may, for me, the all-to-often heroic narrative that coins the political passages of the book spoilt the reading experience for me. But this does not mean I could not recommend the book. It is, after all, a documentary of sorts. Many of the told stories might not have happened to Hermlin, or they might not have happened at all, but they could have happened. They do fit into time and place, and in the end, it is totally irrelevant if those people witnessing the murder of Karl Liebknecht in Berlin’s street had been Hermlin’s parents or another, random family. The fact remains: they were there. And there were many public murders to witness during these times. While Hermlin seems to tell about a single, very concrete fate – allegedly “his” own -, he in fact tells of fragments from a collective past. Many fathers have been send to death camps, did not lose their pride and died when their strength left them – or the gas chamber opened its doors. Many brothers fell as soldiers in the war against Hitler’s army. In the end, it turns out to be irrelevant whether Hermlin was there in person or not.
And, as I indicated: the parts on politics are not at all the books strongest. Hermlin shines as a writer not when he describes his way within communist ranks and his belief in Stalin, but when he writes about atmospheres and about inter-personal relations. Here, Hermlin can be poetic, here he is able to catch the essence of love and despair (as in the wonderful piece on his father’s younger brother). These are the passages that fully justify the rather allegoric title of Evening Light and make the book a read to remember.
Although I never had read a book by Hermlin before, I had heard his name when I was young. I understood he used to be one of the most remarkable (positively as well as negatively) writers from the German Democratic Republic. And I took notice of his death in 1997. But he was a distant figure for me, and I never heard anything about the row that raged in 1996 over the details of his (invented) biography and was kindled by his book Evening Light.
As such, I was able to read Evening Light without much of the background that caused the irritations back in 1996. I did not know anything about Hermlin’s biography. I did not know that he had used most of the stories told in Evening Light as autobiographical illustrations of his own life.
This led me to a number of different judgments. I did not for an instant interpret this book as an autobiographical collection of short stories. For me, it has been, and to some extent it still is: fiction. Fiction based upon the historical background of history as it played out in the first half of the 20th century. However, looking back, some cornerstone’s of Hermlin’s biography made me think.
For me, the quality of the book does not lie in the political views laid out in its stories. The title, Evening Light, may or may not refer to the Eve of European Democracy, of Civilization previous to World War II and the Death Camps. I tend to handle books from the GDR with great caution when it comes to political analysis. As such, I have to say I was at times very annoyed with Hermlin’s outspoken communist propaganda. But precisely this propaganda and its tone especially seemed rather ambiguous to me. How come that in Hermlin’s prose open praise of Stalin as a saviour who is going to lead the USSR towards a bright future goes together with the praise of Soviet avantgardism, a movement that has been crushed by this very same supreme leader? And in another story dealing with defectors from the German KP to the Nazis in early 1933, Hermlin not only writes that a countless number of friends became guilty of treason towards communist ideals and changed sides, he also names one of these former friends directly: Erich M. Now, Hermlin was at times a close friend of Erich Honecker, but he also devoted himself to the peace movement in the GDR, he protested against the invasion of Prague in 1968 and tried to protect Biermann and other artists. As a consequence, Hermlin ran into severe trouble with the ruling SED (though he continued to be a member) and became heavily supervised by the Ministry for State Security, through the omnipotent Stasi, commanded by comrade Erich Mielke. Did Hermlin hide some allusions here?
Be that as ist may, for me, the all-to-often heroic narrative that coins the political passages of the book spoilt the reading experience for me. But this does not mean I could not recommend the book. It is, after all, a documentary of sorts. Many of the told stories might not have happened to Hermlin, or they might not have happened at all, but they could have happened. They do fit into time and place, and in the end, it is totally irrelevant if those people witnessing the murder of Karl Liebknecht in Berlin’s street had been Hermlin’s parents or another, random family. The fact remains: they were there. And there were many public murders to witness during these times. While Hermlin seems to tell about a single, very concrete fate – allegedly “his” own -, he in fact tells of fragments from a collective past. Many fathers have been send to death camps, did not lose their pride and died when their strength left them – or the gas chamber opened its doors. Many brothers fell as soldiers in the war against Hitler’s army. In the end, it turns out to be irrelevant whether Hermlin was there in person or not.
And, as I indicated: the parts on politics are not at all the books strongest. Hermlin shines as a writer not when he describes his way within communist ranks and his belief in Stalin, but when he writes about atmospheres and about inter-personal relations. Here, Hermlin can be poetic, here he is able to catch the essence of love and despair (as in the wonderful piece on his father’s younger brother). These are the passages that fully justify the rather allegoric title of Evening Light and make the book a read to remember.
May 19, 2025
Ein tief bewegendes Buch, mehr Lyrik als Prosa. Auf nahezu jeder Seite findet sich eine Beobachtung, eine Anekdote oder eine Beschreibung von einzigartiger menschlicher und literarischer Schönheit. Ein wunderbares Zeitzeugnis, das als Versuch einer Antwort auf die darin wiederholt geäußerte Frage nach der Möglichkeit, der Form und dem Nutzen einer Dichtung, die Marxismus und künstlerischen Ausdruck vereint, gesehen werden kann. Hermlin entscheidet sich klar gegen den sozialistischen Realismus, ohne diesen jedoch abzulehnen. Er beschreibt die Gefühlswelt und die Empfindungen des Sozialisten in seiner Zeit mit den Mitteln der Poesie, er beschreibt die Schönheit und die Schrecklichkeit des menschlichen Miteinanders in der Mittlung durch die Gesellschaft, wie dad ein Proust oder Thomas Mann ebenso tut, allein, die Haltung des Erzählers zum Dargestellten ist eben eine andere als die des bürgerlichen Individuums, das sich seine Welt herbeischreibt.
Insbesondere macht er seine Entfremdung von der Umwelt nicht als heroisches Einzelgängertum, das als aus der individuellen Größe des bürgerlichen Individuums resultierende traurige Notwendigkeit, sich in einer durch (als solcher verstandenem) edlen Wettkampf geprägten Welt durchzusetzen, begriffen wird, erfahrbar, sondern als eine Verelendung, das auf sich selbst Zurückgeworfensein in einer solchen Gesellschaft. Bezeichnenderweise endet dieses Buch, wohl nachdem diese Gesellschaft mit ihrer Selbstzerfleischung im Nazi-Faschismus ein Ende gefunden hat, damit, dass der Erzähler, umgeben von anderen Menschen auf einer Lichtung im titelgebenden Abendlicht, in Einklang mit dieser seiner Umwelt, nach seinen inneren Kämpfen in die gemeinsame Ruhe eintritt: "die Stille trat in mich ein, ich war ein Teil von ihr geworden." Der Schmerz, die Zeichnung dieser Zeit dauert fort - es ist eben die Ruhe, nicht das Jauchzen, in der er Gemeinschaft findet. Aber ihre bloße Möglichkeit kündet vom Anbruch einer Zeit, in der auch im Jauchzen die Menschen vereint sein mögen.
Dass der Jude und Holocaust-Überlebende Hermlin, der, wie aus Interviews mit seinen Nachkommen hervorgeht, bis an sein Lebensende sich intensiv mit dem Schrecken befasste, über den er nie wirklich sprechen konnte, noch zu Lebzeiten im Rahmen der hämischen Abrechnung mit der DDR-Literatur in den Jahren nach der Wende in einer "Aufdeckungsaktion" öffentlich dafür diffamiert wurde, dass er in diesem zwar autobiographisch geprägten, aber eindeutig (und auch von dem Verlag entsprechend beworbenen) fiktionalisierten und poetisch ausgestalteten Buch das Schicksal seiner ermordeten Zeitgenossen verarbeitete, indem er den Vater des Ich-Erzählers, anders als seinen eigenen, im KZ (auch hier nur angedeutet; es bleibt unaussprechlich) sterben ließ, ist eine schändliche, menschenverachtende Geschmacklosigkeit von so abscheulicher Arglist und Boshaftigkeit, dass es einem den Atem verschlägt, daran zu denken.
Insbesondere macht er seine Entfremdung von der Umwelt nicht als heroisches Einzelgängertum, das als aus der individuellen Größe des bürgerlichen Individuums resultierende traurige Notwendigkeit, sich in einer durch (als solcher verstandenem) edlen Wettkampf geprägten Welt durchzusetzen, begriffen wird, erfahrbar, sondern als eine Verelendung, das auf sich selbst Zurückgeworfensein in einer solchen Gesellschaft. Bezeichnenderweise endet dieses Buch, wohl nachdem diese Gesellschaft mit ihrer Selbstzerfleischung im Nazi-Faschismus ein Ende gefunden hat, damit, dass der Erzähler, umgeben von anderen Menschen auf einer Lichtung im titelgebenden Abendlicht, in Einklang mit dieser seiner Umwelt, nach seinen inneren Kämpfen in die gemeinsame Ruhe eintritt: "die Stille trat in mich ein, ich war ein Teil von ihr geworden." Der Schmerz, die Zeichnung dieser Zeit dauert fort - es ist eben die Ruhe, nicht das Jauchzen, in der er Gemeinschaft findet. Aber ihre bloße Möglichkeit kündet vom Anbruch einer Zeit, in der auch im Jauchzen die Menschen vereint sein mögen.
Dass der Jude und Holocaust-Überlebende Hermlin, der, wie aus Interviews mit seinen Nachkommen hervorgeht, bis an sein Lebensende sich intensiv mit dem Schrecken befasste, über den er nie wirklich sprechen konnte, noch zu Lebzeiten im Rahmen der hämischen Abrechnung mit der DDR-Literatur in den Jahren nach der Wende in einer "Aufdeckungsaktion" öffentlich dafür diffamiert wurde, dass er in diesem zwar autobiographisch geprägten, aber eindeutig (und auch von dem Verlag entsprechend beworbenen) fiktionalisierten und poetisch ausgestalteten Buch das Schicksal seiner ermordeten Zeitgenossen verarbeitete, indem er den Vater des Ich-Erzählers, anders als seinen eigenen, im KZ (auch hier nur angedeutet; es bleibt unaussprechlich) sterben ließ, ist eine schändliche, menschenverachtende Geschmacklosigkeit von so abscheulicher Arglist und Boshaftigkeit, dass es einem den Atem verschlägt, daran zu denken.
November 3, 2023
Hermlin kann einfach schreiben. Das Buch gibt Bruchstücke vom Leben vor und während der Nazibarbarei in poetischer Sprache wider. Das ist oft berührend. Zumal nicht immer, wenn man es erwartet. So fand ich etwa die Beschreibung des Onkel Herbert überraschend ergreifend. Das ist schon ein größerer Wurf.
Übrigens schon sehr widerlich, wie die deutsche Unkulturzunft Empörung vorheischt ob der Frage der Identität eines literarischen Textes mit Hermlins Leben. Das selbe Geschmeiß frohlockt bei allen noch so naiven postmodernen Kinderspielereien, feiert Stilblütensammler wie Tellkamp, wenn sie nur antikommunistisch genug sind, fällt aber in vorsintflutliche Einfalt, in dem Moment, wo ein Kommunist - dazu noch ein böser "DDR-Funktionär"! - die Literatur nicht als bloßes Medium seiner rein individuellen Vita nutzt. Die Gattung der deutschen Liberalen war schon immer von besonderer Unfähigkeit zur Kritik am Bestehenden, von Herrschaftstreue und Niedertracht geprägt, daran hat sich nie etwas geändert.
Übrigens schon sehr widerlich, wie die deutsche Unkulturzunft Empörung vorheischt ob der Frage der Identität eines literarischen Textes mit Hermlins Leben. Das selbe Geschmeiß frohlockt bei allen noch so naiven postmodernen Kinderspielereien, feiert Stilblütensammler wie Tellkamp, wenn sie nur antikommunistisch genug sind, fällt aber in vorsintflutliche Einfalt, in dem Moment, wo ein Kommunist - dazu noch ein böser "DDR-Funktionär"! - die Literatur nicht als bloßes Medium seiner rein individuellen Vita nutzt. Die Gattung der deutschen Liberalen war schon immer von besonderer Unfähigkeit zur Kritik am Bestehenden, von Herrschaftstreue und Niedertracht geprägt, daran hat sich nie etwas geändert.
October 6, 2019
„Mein Blick suchte, wie schon immer, die Wolken, die dahinwanderten wie ich selber, einander gleichend wie vor, wie nach Jahrtausenden, und doch schmerzhaft unbeständig und mir bedeutend, daß kein künftiger Augenblick mehr sein würde wie dieser.“ (Zitat Seite 9, Ausgabe Reclam 1980)
Inhalt
Ein Ich-Erzähler blickt zurück auf Ereignisse in seinem Leben, seine Kindheit und Jugend, an Veränderungen der politischen Landschaft und auch seiner eigenen Überzeugung. Aufgewachsen in einer gut situierten Familie in der Zeit der Weimarer Republik, wird der Erzähler früh zum bekennenden Kommunisten und erkannte die Gefahren des aufstrebenden Nationalsozialismus. Ergänzt werden diese Erinnerungen durch Träume, Naturbetrachtungen und die intensive Auseinandersetzung mit der Kunst.
Thema und Sprache
Themen sind Politik, Kunst und Kultur und die Erinnerungen an ein gelebtes Leben, auch Nachdenklichkeit und die Abschiedsstimmung des Alters schwingen mit. Auch wenn eigene Erfahrungen und Gedanken eine wichtige Rolle spielen, handelt es sich bei diesem Prosawerk um keine Autobiografie. Gerade die politischen Strömungen und die geschilderte Alltagssituation der Menschen in schwierigen Zeiten sind zeitlos und daher auch heute noch wichtig und lesenswert. Vor allem jedoch ist es die Schönheit der Sprache Hermlins, die unvergänglich ist.
Fazit:
Sprachlich großartig, lesenswert und zeitlos in der Vielfalt der Gedanken und eines in bruchstückhaften Erinnerungen erzählten Lebens.
Inhalt
Ein Ich-Erzähler blickt zurück auf Ereignisse in seinem Leben, seine Kindheit und Jugend, an Veränderungen der politischen Landschaft und auch seiner eigenen Überzeugung. Aufgewachsen in einer gut situierten Familie in der Zeit der Weimarer Republik, wird der Erzähler früh zum bekennenden Kommunisten und erkannte die Gefahren des aufstrebenden Nationalsozialismus. Ergänzt werden diese Erinnerungen durch Träume, Naturbetrachtungen und die intensive Auseinandersetzung mit der Kunst.
Thema und Sprache
Themen sind Politik, Kunst und Kultur und die Erinnerungen an ein gelebtes Leben, auch Nachdenklichkeit und die Abschiedsstimmung des Alters schwingen mit. Auch wenn eigene Erfahrungen und Gedanken eine wichtige Rolle spielen, handelt es sich bei diesem Prosawerk um keine Autobiografie. Gerade die politischen Strömungen und die geschilderte Alltagssituation der Menschen in schwierigen Zeiten sind zeitlos und daher auch heute noch wichtig und lesenswert. Vor allem jedoch ist es die Schönheit der Sprache Hermlins, die unvergänglich ist.
Fazit:
Sprachlich großartig, lesenswert und zeitlos in der Vielfalt der Gedanken und eines in bruchstückhaften Erinnerungen erzählten Lebens.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews