Yet, slow as I am in these matters, it would be some years before I began to appreciate the degree to which Handkes hunger to be seen and to display himself, to perform, and to be well-regarded, and to dominate, if from afar once he had withdrawn, was one of the driving forces that helped him to try to realize his twelve year olds dream to become an heirloom writer and to harness his talent as it is most famously exercised on the ground of his chosen field of literature, the page, and the world stage on which his mostly well-calibrated grandiosity has set his plays since the very beginning.
And Handke used to give very good interview, too that is until 2003 when, perhaps coyly, he said he would withdraw his idiocy from the public realm. And perhaps what he said would not have become as notorious, and such a characteristic debut, if the master sergeant type, Hans Werner Richter, who was in charge of this collection of democrats that, with the onset of the Cold War in 1947, had formed in opposition to the clampdown that ensued, also in the west, had not stopped Handke short, because wholesale attacks of this kind, of which the fellow had just delivered himself, with some heat but also a certain, more interesting, tentativeness, contravened the associations democratic rules no matter that Peter Weiss and Guenter Grass subsequently encouraged the upstart for his affront, and not the first by any means once you delved into his brief-lived Austrian past but certainly a fine beginning for someone who became the news medias darling for controversy copy for decades to come and one of whose childhood dreams had been to appear on the cover of Der Spiegel. had attended American creative writing classes and who had familiarized himself with postwar literature in German during the past half dozen years, and so had a sense of what the long-haired fellow was talking about, was not unduly roused by what he said, or rather read, twice as I recall. The more recent plays discussed are: Walk About the Villages, translated and with a postscript by Michael Roloff, Ariadne Press, 1996 The Hour We Knew Nothing of Each Other & the Art of Asking, translated by Gitta Honegger, Yale University Press, 1994 Zuruestungen fuer die Unsterblichkeit, Suhrkamp Verlag, 1992 Die Fahrt im Einbaum: Oder das Stueck zum Film ueber den Krieg, Suhrkamp Verlag, 1999 Pourquoi la Cuisine, Edition Gallimard, 2001 Untertagblues, Suhrkamp Verlag, 2003. Although the uproar at the transgression has lasted to this day, I, who * Among which I include everything from the 1965 Prophecy, Public Insult, Self-Accusation, My Foot My Tutor, Quodlibet, Screams for Help, Kaspar, Ride Across Lake Constance, to that oddity, the equivocating 1973 portmanteau, They Are Dying Out. At that desultory meeting, one of the by then overly successful and somewhat hermetic groups last, I however entirely the eager beaver, Handkes launching a general attack on descriptive impotence, in lieu of the discovery of a great text, became the most memorable event.
The first time I set eyes on Peter Handke, whom few people outside of Austria had heard or heard of ever, though I was working as a scout for his publisher, was in May 1966, at the meeting of the German post World War II writers group, the Gruppe 47, and it happened to be his back.
Has most of my "dem handke auf die schliche" on line + the begleit link below has an interview that lothar stuck conducted with me about handke.Īnd is 'LYNX' PAGE to access the 12 other subsites.Īn index to the entire handke.scriptmania complex can be found at the bottom of the LYNX page of this siteīelow you will find the opening ten pages or so of what will be a 50 page summary piece on Handke's works as a dramatist, on the Subday Blues/Cuisine page you will find Kyle Gillette's piece on his production of Kaspar you will find my attempt to come to difficult terms with Handke's latest play, Subday Blues/ Untertagblues Voyages of Discovery: Around the World with Peter HandkeĪ Ramble through the Theater Work from 1965 to 2003* If the doors of perception are cleansed everything will appear to man as it is, infinite." William Blake =I=I=
0 kommentar(er)
