Collected Stories

by Arno Schmidt, John E Woods (Translator)

They are grouped under three headings: the first two, Tales from Island Street and Sturenburg Stories, are a perfect spot to test Schmidtian waters, to hear the voice of a master storyteller. Twenty-five short tales written for a wide audience, they all share an eerie whimsy. It is as if Schmidt's beloved German Romantics were here with new stories for the modern reader.And then there is Country Matters, longer, more experimental stories written for the adventurous reader. Joyce and Freud are constant inspirations, but Schmidt's unique brand of intellectual ribaldry, shot through with the pain of our common humanity, enlivens all ten stories.Of the thirty-five stories in this volume, only two have previously appeared in English translation. Ranging from Schmidt at his most inviting and whimsical to Schmidt at his most cerebral and complex, the stories are a perfect introduction to his work.

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

328 pages, Paperback

First published December 1, 1996

About the author

Arno Schmidt, in full Arno Otto Schmidt, (born January 18, 1914, Hamburg-Hamm, Germany—died June 3, 1979, Celle), novelist, translator, and critic, whose experimental prose established him as the preeminent Modernist of 20th-century German literature.

With roots in both German Romanticism and Expressionism, he attempted to develop modern prose forms that correspond more closely to the workings of the conscious and subconscious mind and to revitalize a literary language that he considered debased by Nazism and war.

The influence of James Joyce and Sigmund Freud are apparent in both a collection of short stories, Kühe in Halbtrauer (1964; Country Matters), and, most especially, in Zettels Traum (1970; Bottom’s Dream)—a three-columned, more than 1,300-page, photo-offset typescript, centring on the mind and works of Poe. It was then that Schmidt developed his theory of “etyms,” the morphemes of language that betray subconscious desires. Two further works on the same grand scale are the “novella-comedy” Die Schule der Atheisten (1972; School for Atheists) and Abend mit Goldrand (1975; Evening Edged in Gold), a dream-scape that has as its focal point Hiëronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights and that has come to be regarded as his finest and most mature work.

Schmidt was a man of vast autodidactic learning and Rabelaisian humour. Though complex and sometimes daunting, his works are enriched by inventive language and imbued with a profound commitment to humanity’s intellectual achievements.

Reviews

[Nathan "N.R." Gaddis]

I believe that the single best, and shortest, reason for recommending the reading of Arno Schmidt; just taking the simple=quick route here; is that a genius translator by the name of John E. Woods, the one responsible for making Thomas Mann speak English for generations to come, Mann himself being one of those two or three highest peaks of German literature ;; that Woods turned himself into a translator upon encountering the works of Schmidt. That when we read Schmidt in English we are also reading Woods; which is an opportunity not to be denied. Impossibility of translation, of a work as dense and linguistically=oceanic as Schmidt’s? It’s like saying that Beethoven’s late string quartets can’t be translated from page to string ‘{Woods’ analogy; my perversion of said analogy}’.

Never heard of Arno Schmidt? I know. I hadn’t either until recently due to the services of aspirational readers here on goodreads. But consider ;; Angel-isch readers don’t read in translation ; we are mono=munded even when bi=tongued folks are helping us out ;; and, secondly, anyone knowingly writing in the wake of The Wake ---!-!----? that’s just suicide in the market. Doesn’t help that he’s German.

There’s an american writer I’ve been reading but don’t know quite what to do with, name of John Hawkes. I like that--) not knowing what to do with what some artist is doing; something that doesn’t fall easily into my claws. I like to look up from the page and ......----??_uh_?::-----(!?).......getbacktothat. Arno’s full of this stuff. It’s nice too to just sail on a story and we can read Barth without those whitcherjiggets getting caught between page and string.

So to the stories. Our volume. My second book of Schmidt, one which I’ll recommend here today as that place to stick your toe into the water without worry of eels or snapping turtles or other harm=doing=stuff ; of course by the end of this collection you’ll be in the deeper end or at least the water in the pot has meanwhile gotten hotter and you might wonder Why the fuck didn’t I jump out before this stuff started to melt my skin (?) said the frog to himself as he turned into a nice platter of legs with, well, what goes well with frog=legs?

We are looking at three collections of short stories in this collection of short stories ; roughly chronological, but with some overlap. Begin at the byginning with Tales from Island Street (1955-1962), short-short little stories ; 16 little literary delights in 65 pages. It doesn’t matter what yer reading remember ; you’re just trying out the waters.

Second, a set of frame tales featuring Stürenburg, surveyor in retirement, telling some stories about that one time he was out..... but his stories related by the same voice as in our previous collection, a bit of story=enframing here, that voice which you will find in all of Arno’s fiction and may tire of ;; meanwhile “because you really never knew with Stürenburg’s stories”. (1955-59).

And thirdly is where all of our Wake and Freud(e) just go hog=tyingly schweine=wild(!) and by the end of Country Matters (1960-64) (saved by someone from the schmidtianism “cunt=try matters”) don’t even ask what was going on there in “Caliban Upon Setebos” (final thing, more “novella”) except that each Greek muse got a section heading. “Cows in Half Mourning” might be the better known of this sub=cool=lektion. And so here in Country Matters is where you’ll want to cum=plete yer introduction to Arno ;; step-wise through the pleasantries of the heath and such=not of the first two collections, that toe into water, that kettle heating that water to cook your toe eventually ;; and then Country Matters and without the threat of one of Arno’s Big Books you’ll get a clue about why I and a few others have been scratching our heads with such pleasure these past few months. I mean, I don’t know what I read there ::::: BUT I like it and all you little solipsistic little bubbles should like it too because there’s more to life than a jolly little story [“stop it already ;; there’s just, well, there’s a lot of story in here--folks don’t admit it but The Wake itself is f@@king jam=packed with storystorystory”]. Of course you might hate it and that will surprise no one...




________
The following just out of random association ;;

Also, listen to Jeff Walker Und Die Fluffers playing Keep On Rocking In The Free World from Welcome to Carcass Cuntry. :: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EeOR4...

Then listen to Heartwerk :: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaXS4...

Have a very guten tag!!!


______________
From the Woods introduction regarding Schmidt’s unconventional punctuation conventions :: ::

A note is also in order about the unusual punctuation of these texts, which is sure to look strange to the American eye. It reproduces that found in the German original. But why such slavish faithfulness in a translation? Perhaps Schmidt’s own “Calculations III” may help explain:

We are not dealing with a mania for originality or love of the grand gesture, but with . . . the necessary refinement of the writer’s tool. I shall begin with punctuation. - It can be used as stenografy ! When I write : {She looked around : ?}, the out=come (with an “=”, I despise Websterian rules for compound words : it’s not an oútcome, but an oút=cóme !) is that the colon becomes the inquiring opened face, the question mark the torsion of the body turned to ask, and the whole of “The Question” retains its validity - no : is far better ! : the reader is intentionally not force-fed a stale salad of words, à la {and she asked : “What is it ?”} . . . Let us retain the lovely=essential freedom to reproduce a hesitation precisely : “well - hm - : Idunno - - : can we do that . . . . . . .” (Instead of the rigidly prescribed : “Well, I don’t know . . .” . . . Perhaps many will wonder why I sometimes place the period before the parenthesis; sometimes after; sometimes use none at all : I have my reasons - in almost every case (and with a little thought, anyone could discover them.”

That “almost every” is a hedge--yes, Schmidt usually had his reasons, but sometimes he was careless. Despite his avowals of meticulously orchestrated punctuation, I must admit I often find no real consistency; usage varies from text to text and can even seem out of sync within a given text. But rather than attempt to correct this or that usage or rigorously substitute American conventions, I thought it best simply to preserve the original visual textuality.

End of quotation of Woods and his quoting of Schmidt. I think I got everything transcribed accurately. But I’ve used “{ }” instead of the carrot quote thing (“< >”) as a work-around to work around this html thing of which I do not have a handle.

[Jonfaith · Rating 5 out of 5]

The hail was getting downright life-threatening ! (I & many horses of those regions had bumps and bruises the next day.) / We beheaded ourselves into the under=fir. Crouched beneath the barby weir(= bony wire-hair) of what had perished below. And simply waited. -.

Overhead divinities, be generous and lavish us with stars- these Collected deserve at least TEN. Comprised of three collections, there is a tenderness and mastery which is beyond provocative, it is a heavy hearted triumph of the literary instinct. As the reader swells in appreciation, he finds a lump in his cautious throat: what is this but a Joyce with a Dickens soul.

Hmyes -

There is a trepidation in these dark woods. Shit, that's why I pranced about for years collecting these volumes without an emboldened foot forward . So all you pups and kittens take an moment and browse both Trading Keys and and then convince yourself that this madcap madrasa is indeed the Shining Path to personal enrichment and relative obscurity. I do offer a warning. Mentioning Schmidt will afford you no favors at the Stupor Bowl party your attending this evening with fellow Rotarians and binge-viewers of TLC and The Voice. No, best keep that eschatology to yourself.

[Brian · Rating 5 out of 5]

As a curmudgeonly elder statesman of 68 years and lover of international literature, Frederick the Great lamented the lack of a German author that could rival his love of Racine, Voltaire, Horace, Livy, Plutarch and many more. He thought the German language to be "semi-barbarian" and believed it "physically impossible", even for an author of extreme genius, to write with sublime aesthetics in his native tongue. In his words: "German writers take pleasure in a diffuse style, they pile parenthesis upon parenthesis, and often you don't find until you reach the end of the page the verb on which the meaning of the entire sentence depends." Like Miniver Cheevy, Frederick the Great was just born at the wrong time - he missed the author for which he pined by 200 years, because Arno Schmidt is the genius that grabbed all those barbaric German words and sentence structures and jammed them not only into parenthesis but just about every other punctuation you can imagine to create something the written world had never seen, nor might not again for another 200 years.

These stories are a great place to start with Schmidt; the first group (Tales from Island Street) are the most straight-laced of the stories and give the reader a toe-in-the-water opportunity before moving to his more experimental works found in the other two sections of stories. Always, the reader is reminded that there is nothing slapdash about his craft:

Sparrow shouts made delicate cracks in the circumracket of traffic.

So many sentences like this that make the reader slow it down, stop, re-read and then scuff away to the next sentence with a glance over the shoulder. It's all like this. Sometimes you have to work for it, but it is always worth it.

I now look differently at that equal sign on my keyboard, wondering how=/when to employ it, because reading Arno Schmidt is a viral lit infection, and if you get it in you, you'll never be able to go back. And why would you want to? - : - ? / ... / !

[Jonathan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have a fondness for artists who are un=able to be any:thing other than them=selves : - who are un=able to create with an Iye to audience, or to market, or to tr(ends), or to any:thing else out..-..side of their own furrow. This is why Throwing Muses will always be my favorite band (oh - go listen to this now, by the way - http://youtu.be/WcnDsTpO-CY).

This collection does seem the perfect introduction to this man and his work. The first few pieces are very much in a traditional vein (with their own little twists of course) and are very good indeed. Then the in=sanity begins. Some of his later pieces worked for me, and some did not, you may find your response different to mine, as I suspect personal taste had something to do with it.

Look, it is pretty simple really, this guy is very very smart and an excellent writer. His typographical play and his eccentricity are unique to him, and well worth exploring. Get hold of this, give it a go and see how it takes ya. I may say something more intelligent at some point but right now it is time to put my son to bed, and I get to read him his stories.

[Declan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Four stars for Herr Schmidt who is terrifically playful in his linguistic inventiveness, but veres a little too far into thickets of incomprehensible verbiage in the final, long, short story.

Five stars for John E. Woods, whose translation involves reinventing much of the book because he has to decide on puns, word associations, synonyms, antonyms, double meanings, triple meanings, double entendres, triple...well, you get the idea. He did an amazing job and made this a hugely involving, concentrated, demanding, but very enjoyable read.

[Cymru Roberts · Rating 4 out of 5]

A literary scallywag of the highest order, Arno Schmidtsteiner is an author that gives solipsism a good name. This is because the avenues of his mind are actually fun to hang out in. To be truly great, however, an author must bridge a gap between his own mind and that of the reader, imply some connection, elevate the subject matter by touching upon universal things. And Arno does this, or has the ability to, but not consistently enough to be a true literary champion -- not that canonicity was ever a concern for someone so erudite and audacious.

"Tales from Island Street" were the best part of the collection for me. "The Field Trip" in particular showcases not only Schmeezy's sublime powers of world-building, but the tenderness of his emotional and social concern. The later sections weren't as successful, but I do think the "Stürenberg Stories" would have come off better if read as serials. By the time we get to "Co/untry Matters" Schmisch has completely disregarded both literary convention altogether as well as -- unfortunately -- all concern with any real meaningful plot : wherein the chance of universal connection is possible. Instead we have hasty freestyles of typographical flair to describe, when it really comes down to it, literar/ly porn. Which isn't bad, and Arnold has skill in this department, but a preponderance of odd exclamation points and half-colon(ics) don't ideal porn make for I. Gabageesh?

I think the real story here is Arno Schmidt, human being. The myth around him is that he was a Wehrmacht soldier (which isn't quite the same as Nazi -- Arno's politics are firmly in the anti- camp. Still, imagine what it would be like to be drafted by the Third Reich?) stationed in Norway after seeing atrocities in France. When it was clear that Germany had lost WWII, he finagled a transfer TO BERLIN, in order to get his wife and move west of a future Wall. Berlin just happens to be the most dangerous place on earth at the time. From there he travels from city to city, like a real-life Archimboldo, writing weird stories in ultraweird forms mainly for himself, sometimes for money, despising the literary establishment as much as the church and governments that officially condemn him. THAT's the story I wanna read.

[Amey · Rating 5 out of 5]

deep diving into Schmidtian text..what next?

[Marc · Rating 4 out of 5]

Finaly finishing this after a lot of breaks sailing the Chesapeake Bay with John Barth. I loved the humor and invention of Tales From Island Street, found the nostalgic tone of the Stürenburg Stories absolutely gorgeous and had a rather hard and not very entertaining time with the stuff in Country Matters. I do not in any way doubt the genius of it all, but things turned too impenetrable for me here. Schmidt is never less than fascinating though, so I'll be back for more (and will probably dive into Bottom's Dream together with the rest of you Schmidt=heads when it finaly arrives this autumn...)

[Dionysius the Areopagite · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Armorica we are asked crazy questions when wee lads and laidies. One of the funner7y quest is which cameth first, chicken ore Egg? We use too laugh angd then forget or cry-cry/ pull out his apologise. The only requirement to be a U.S.A. genius anymore is too knowned the antsir for the questchin: Well there no egg wout chicken. No chiken wout egg. O shit. So they came simultflamingusly out and, and than then lonce moore (I would say ‘Again’ but it rhymes and I hate poetry)_ - so at wuncderkindanderlust, chicken egg once. Lightning striketh. Break eggybody. Cucumbers look like crocodile boiling in gassburnt boilybubble.
Stout of the hue, old man proff said - Looky here boy and I’ll tell you something priffund.
- Ahrg?
- Have you no coarse knot herded Arnblo Shlbmidft?
- Nahe I harnt whom Lizzy?
- German pickwicktion righter.
- They German has pickftictionwicky righters? I sought that Gontpler HrrGrass was the only drumtinner their? Arhg then theres Toe-Miss-Man ash well.
- The {= in statemint is not fond of war whore junger reeders fir that doormataballoange.
- Hareag?
- He liked Deaddallas arigte later buyt gahhg an clairvoyance cuhtout if ‘re ont?
- Maya templeshelf stockstacked seven yeearrows in mayking. Can I telegram you in eighty years reeding if?
- Schmidt nawerver mayasdwaer it to AMerickah.
- So did statue ham?
- Crown of yarns.

Riding up the truck, trail, thump and thump, to library, legless dwarf with AIDS waving Hallo, Neu! & on muted strings, we go to big library in midtown and leave truck in middle of road let it get stolen cameras everyware anyway on way to booklooking carrying a book with me and notes on an udder, dog wagging gasoline wimper, I say Hi to the police officer with machine ghun in liberry. I am tazed, beaten to death, arrested, detained for hours. I arisen fromm the dead.
I was surprised to see how much Schmidt was available. I hanged low my humminghead and left his texts for someone surpriseingbody. Blue my nose, blue yellow lites filterless honk honk honk sings traffic. I pose for a picktamiature with five French teenagers at Empire State Bwiwdung and pretend I speak France and squeal we wheeling like mice puffing way, away, I jog to one out a troundthandsands vermillion bisexual one get bisexual nodder free and with jestesque head full of hoopie I forehead to The Stand, Wal-Mart of Used Bookstorms.
There sarsvirus cheep Shmistdt too chosen fromm. Two homeless people w/ dogs and fourhead tatthlues and rust ring lip pull a nymph on me n deman munney. Undercover cops take them anwaywaway.
The srotories start out funny smart & heartfelt boringly. Then thyme {go[e]} (s_) On, and we areinaw jam. Itsa g/ould jam s(h)ess{iann]\inn.
}, }]]]] ] ] ; smd wreckendeded too aspiring English majors. Maybe they’ll sea a neu lite. Better to reed this Schmidst ‘n to drop ones knickers at NYU beer pong partys. Er reed Thomas Hardee. Why not ordeourver a cheep copy and ckeep in amrounawerd? Im glad I weaghageve my copy ```` e’en `` it` ```t f`` ]] ` ]]] weaks.

I#ts {u<<^ t,o,o.

Shaw was a pricque
said thea markeron the {Marquee} de Delancey

There be no chickenegg without lighenting.

[Gabriel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Would give the book 5 stars, but for the inclusion of the "Sturenburg Stories," which is not bad, but does bring the collection down a bit.

Not quite experimental fiction, more like experimental punctuation. Does make you aware of language and its uses, though. In fact, the "Country Matters" sequence is a tremendous edifice of words-- you can see the bricks and straw much more clearly than the resulting building.

Schmidt apparently settled into being a dirty old man relatively young. But his subject matter, as he remarks at one point, is wrapped up in the language itself. What else is language <> for? Peacock's feathers, at best.

[may · Rating 3 out of 5]

Schmidt the storyteller channels part=Scheherazade part=Romantic fairy=taler, with everyday? events as building blocks.

I would recommend the first two sections of this to anyone: Tales From Island Street & Stürenburg Stories.
The third for the late=Schmidt fans: Country Matters goes in deep.

[John Sweetman · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Sturenberg stories were certainly the best. I read this collection hoping to find new approaches for my own writing. What I learned was don't go too overboard. Of the three collections within this book, the last are the most experimental, the first the least, the middle in the middle - the middle were the best; they were Mama Bear's porridge. The last ones were purely style over substance; the style being completely welcomed if it was eased into, the text at first simple, before coming at you like a sledgehammer or panther, but no, the final act, or second half, is merely a deluge of punctuations that rarely makes you want to jump to the next word - the last set of stories lack soul and better represent a transitional period rather than a complete product, converse to the middle set which are perfectly charming and a little bit whimsical, the Schmidtian flare being more like fairydust, icing dusted on a Victoria sponge, rather than a mouth full of cobwebs and an eyeball full of dust to be found in the last set. The first set of stories are perfectly good; but a narrative that ties them all together such as with Sturenberg is something I more prefer - I am partial to stories within stories.

This is a book I can see myself returning to.

[Alex · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have no idea what I just read but I liked it

[Paul H. · Rating 3 out of 5]

Checked this out in preparation for the big one, which I finally found for a reasonable price.

It's a pleasant surprise to find an author so strongly influenced by Joyce, which is rarer than one might expect (beyond Wyndham Lewis and I guess sort of Beckett, what other authors really tried to achieve something like Ulysses/FW?), but the actual content of Schmidt's stories, as is so often the case with Dalkey's back catalogue, is sorely lacking.

[Katrinka · Rating 3 out of 5]

Really clever and enjoyable at first, but then all the "experiments" got old, especially towards the end, where Schmidt just seemed like a still-comprehensible forerunner of the more unintelligible work (i.e., anything but House of Leaves) of Mark Z. Danielewski.

[Ippolit · Rating 3 out of 5]

too much