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192 pages, Paperback
First published April 25, 2017
I hear the church bell ring at the nearby cemetery. It’s odd enough that it has a clock at all, because isn’t that where time stops? But maybe it’s so the dead will know how long they have to wait till resurrection.
Schaschek toasted the portrait, thinking this old-fashioned gesture would be timeless enough to seem familiar to the Duchess. Then he began to improvise on his violin. There was still some sheet music open on the music stand, but ever since his life had changed he didn’t follow the music anymore. He let the violin play on its own terms. Eleonor listened attentively to this miracle, indeed it almost seemed that her otherwise open eyes were now half closed.
Alas, his ship was in a bottle. He no longer knew how he’d gotten it inside. And to get it out, he’d have to break the bottle.
At other times she would suddenly stop in front of a fern, study the leaves for a while then say, “Rain!” And although the sky had been clear and bright, it would soon get dark and rain would fall.
The conflict persisted. No woman spread out her laundry behind the house to bleach it in the sun or baked bread in the brick oven behind the barn without shouting something hurtful or accusatory at a neighbor across the stream.
Once upon a time I read a book about the Czech Republic where someone (the author? the editor?) translated some of the Czech words but none of the German ones, which annoyed me because I took Russian in university, not German, and could often suss out the Slavic-based Czech on my own, whereas the German remained incomprehensible to me. Similarly (sort-of, maybe -- okay it's a bit of stretch), I keep putting the 'z' in Urzidil in odd places where I think it should be because I guess even the more Slavic parts of Czech culture ended up being just as incomprehensible to me as the German words in another book that is in no way related to this one, The Last Bell, that I'm supposed to be reviewing.
So the whole thing feels like a dream. I read the stories in bed, before sleeping, so maybe that's why. Maybe it's because there's a story about a talking painting and another about a girl who can touch nature. There's also a story about villagers on either side of a pond fighting about cheesecakes and venison. There are bank clerks and forest wardens and countries (Czechoslovakia) that no longer exist and none of it seems real because it isn't real anymore, after Nazis and Soviets and globalization destroyed it all. What was that Zweig book I read awhile ago: Messages from a Lost World? They gave the title to the wrong book, s'all I'm saying.
Maybe I should go to Prague, other parts of Bohemia. Maybe then this will all seem real. Well, not the talking stolen portrait part I hope.
The Last Bell by Johannes Urzidil went on sale April 25, 2017.
I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.