Scardanelli

by Friederike Mayröcker, Jonathan Larson (Translation)

In Scardanelli, Friederike Mayröcker, one of the most well-known poets in Austria associated with the experimental German writers and artists of the Wiener Gruppe, continues to sharpen her mystical and hallucinatory poetic voice. Filled with memory and loss, these poems are time-stamped and often dedicated to the friends they address, including Friedrich Hölderlin--"I do often go in your shadow"--who appears in the first poem of the book and stays throughout. Even the title, Scardanelli, refers to the name that Hölderlin signed many of his poems with after having been diagnosed with madness toward the end of 1806. Mayröcker uses her own eclectic reading, daily life, and the scenes and sounds of Vienna around her to find a new language for grief and aging--"I am counted among the aging ones though I would prefer to consort with the young (rose of their cheeks)." Despite the intractable challenges Mayröcker’s layered language and unconventional use of signs and symbols presents to translation, Jonathan Larson manages to convey masterfully the unmistakable singularity of her work.

Genres: Poetry

72 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2009

About the author

Friederike Mayröcker (born 20 December 1924 in Vienna) is an Austrian poet. From 1946 to 1969 Mayröcker was an English teacher at several public schools in Vienna. In 1969 she took a release from working as a teacher and in 1977 she retired early.

She started writing as a 15-year-old. In 1946, she meet Otto Basil who published some of her first works in his avant-garde journal Plan. Mayröcker's poems were published a few years later by renowned literary critic Hans Weigel. She was eventually introduced to the Wiener Gruppe, a group of mostly surrealist and expressionist Austrian authors.

Friederike Mayröcker is recognized as one of the most important contemporary Austrian poets. She also had success with her prose and radio plays. Four of them she wrote together with Ernst Jandl, with whom she lived together from 1954 until his death in 2000.

Her prose is often described as autofictional, since Mayröcker uses quotes of private conversations and excerpts from letters and diaries in her work.

Mayröcker describes her working process as follows: "I live in pictures. I see everything in pictures, my complete past, memories are pictures. I transform pictures into language by climbing into the picture. I walk into it until it becomes language."

A German biographical movie documenting Mayröcker's life and work was released in 2008

Reviews

[Griffin Alexander · Rating 4 out of 5]

then all of 1 sudden everything stops the lark daffodil the
nightingale too which unseeming in the leafy canopy I never saw
never heard, with red open beaks the darting village-swall-
ows : they are 80 now they will live long the roseate
peonies too in the stranger gardens, the siskins root voles common
moles that live in the grave mounds. Then the language is lost on me :
gone missing, the moon from which its long since
wrested its secret, the 1st cherries, the daisies, the poppies, the little
dogs, hawthorns and night-violets, the burden of my conscience the
boxlet with the ash of the last relatives all is lost torn
from my heart deleted no more memories of
earth : glory world
(found the friend's umbrella this morning entirely covered in dust
and bent out of shape in these 8 years since it was forgotten. . )
"love me love my umbrella", James Joyce

cautious to wink with the eyes (at me) and caress and
kiss my last poem : the just written and completed very
last poem and as the tears roll over it that the lines
dissolve namely 1 chirping that no 1 else will hear etc

[Ruben · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mnja, det är ju delvis väldigt bra men ibland tycker jag att det bara blir För abstrakt,

[Olive Queen Majestic · Rating 4 out of 5]

i might have to do further research of friederike mayröcker on my own, but the introduction provided a foundation and understanding to her work and style and how it is informed by hölderlin as well as even gertrude stein and even the conditions/circumstances of her own life, though i think she says it best herself in this revelation she has at fifteen: “i, unsuspecting from a hermetic childhood, without any special portents or distinctions, discover one day, how unmeasurable, how unbelievable: i write my own poetry.”

her words and structures are definitely haunting, welcomingly perplexing yet so understandable and evocative, and stunningly, uniquely syntactic. her streams of consciousness are so akin to some of my own and she put it into the raw words that flowed out of her naturally that i as a poet don’t often dare to do. this is definitely a collection of poetry i would like to keep thinking about and wrestling with, it’s definitely not one that can just be fully understood and grappled with in one sitting, and it’s one to be thought about over time especially when the moments she describes truly unfold around you/happen to you.

here is my favorite in this collection:

thus rests thus cools the flame you who
are dense with ash yet that 1,
and spurs the eyes

lay only 1 flower on my new-made grave no
wreath no fir-branchlet palm-headdress and 1 greeting over into
that foreign country I never wanted to set foot in. Visit me
not at my grave it does me no help I am already
dead. I am so sad now and am afraid of
leaving this world that I have loved so much with its blossoms
bushes trees moons with their wonderful nocturnal
creatures. My life was too short for the dream of my life.

8/21/08

[Kyle · Rating 5 out of 5]

It should be a crime that more of Mayrocker is not translated, and Song Cave should be showered with awards and grants to putting more of her into English. Mayrocker is a wondrous challenge of a reading experience—with her extremely idiosyncratic shorthand and abbreviations and mid-word line breaks, I might make the argument that she is not supposed to be read out loud, but even still the rhythm and the words sound beautiful in the air. Motifs (or maybe leitmotifs, as the case may be) drift in and out of the poems as phrases and images are repeated in a way that makes the poems feel woven together like music. This book, written largely in dedication to the work of Holderlin, and to a variety of Mayrocker's friends (one could make the argument that in here they are characters), is a dizzying class on grief and gratitude—both for being alive, with and without those dear to us. My favorite from the collection, dated 1/16/08:

the forest shadow (that time) yanked
the heart out of my chest I stumbled over
the roots of the path toward us 1 beautiful
wanderer was walking with 1 alpine-hat and 1 flower in his
hand we glanced at each other but without greeting 1 an-
other the green finches in the light-green foliage the light
through the treetops I was happy treading slowly
on to the right the lake moving somewhat

[Greg Bem · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautiful whirlwind of a collection of poetry. Translated from the German, the language is strange and creeping, but also elegant and filled with the tastes of reality. Part pastoral, part soulful inquiry, there is enough to latch onto here that keeps the blood warm and the head hung in respect.

[Charlie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mayrocker seems like a legend, but reading this book felt like sticking my head into a raging river and expecting not to be swept away.

[Janina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Für 4,99 als Mängelexemplar gekauft und sehr schön. Hat mir gut gefallen und ich habe bereits mein zweites Friederike Mayröcker Buch zur Hand und werde es sobald es geht verschlingen.

[Jared Levine · Rating 4 out of 5]

These poems while being short and simple, are so very beautiful and evoke a certain tenderness within me. She creates a fresh language that pushed me to the end of each page with subtle turns along the way.

[Awen Eibner · Rating 2 out of 5]

2,5 Sterne

Mir ist unklar, warum "1" nicht ausgeschrieben wird und statt "ß" "sz", da Mayröcker keine Schweizerin ist, aber ansonsten sind die Gedichte in Ordnung. Recht atmosphärisch, Schwerpunkt auf Pflanzen, Natur und Liebe, und im Gegensatz zu "Jalousien aufgemacht" beziehen sich die einzelnen Worte sogar aufeinander.