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Go, Went, Gone is the masterful new novel by the acclaimed German writer Jenny Erpenbeck, one of the most significant German-language novelists of her generation. The novel tells the tale of Richard, a retired classics professor who lives in Berlin. His wife has died, and he lives a routine existence until one day he spies some African refugees staging a hunger strike in Alexanderplatz. Curiosity turns to compassion and an inner transformation, as he visits their shelter, interviews them, and becomes embroiled in their harrowing fates. Go, Went, Gone is a scathing indictment of Western policy toward the European refugee crisis, but also a touching portrait of a man who finds he has more in common with the Africans than he realizes. Exquisitely translated by Susan Bernofsky, Go, Went, Gone addresses one of the most pivotal issues of our time, facing it head-on in a voice that is both nostalgic and frightening.… (més)
La immigració/refugiats vista en primera persona amb històries properes que ajuden a entendre i empatitzar amb els drames que hi ha al darrera. M’agrada el to no moralitzant. El tempo del llibre s’ajusta als impassos de les històries. ( )
La situació d'uns immigrants sense papers des dels ulls d'un berlinès que va canviar de país sense canviar de casa. D'aquells llibres que et donen molt més del que sembla a primera vista. ( )
La vida d'un jubilat alemany que va viure la guerra i tot el relatiu al mur. Es troba amb els emigrants manifestant-se i decideix analitzar cada un d'aquets per saber-ne la seva història, abans, durant i en el moment actual a Alemanya.Amb una gran càrrega de sentiments i tots els problemes administratius que se'n deriven ( )
A Richard, profesor universitario alemán con una exitosa carrera profesional a sus espaldas, le ha llegado el momento de la jubilación. Desde el escritorio de su casa, mientras contempla el lago tras la ventana, se pregunta cómo llenar todo el tiempo libre del que dispondrá. Se entera entonces de la existencia de un campamento de refugiados en Berlín y decide echar una mano.
Allí escuchará historias desgarradoras y esperanzadas de jóvenes llegados desde países lejanos, que vienen huyendo de la guerra y la miseria. Pero la comunicación no siempre es fácil, y en más de una ocasión se producen malentendidos o directamente choques culturales, mientras las autoridades se limitan a aplicar la ley con fría determinación.
Esta es una novela que aborda sin maniqueísmos, sensiblería o tópicos fáciles una tragedia candente de la Europa actual. Pero no es solo eso: es también el potente retrato de un grupo de seres humanos, cada uno con sus cuitas, en cuyo centro se sitúa el recién jubilado Richard. Y a través de su peripecia personal emergen en el libro otros temas de calado: cómo afrontar la vejez, la soledad y las heridas abiertas del pasado –la desaparición de la mujer con la que compartió su vida, fallecida hace años–, pero también cómo convivir con el deseo que pervive, y que le despierta una etíope mucho más joven que enseña a los refugiados alemán y los rudimentos de las formas verbales: Yo voy, tú vas, él va...
Informació del coneixement compartit en anglès.Modifica-la per localitzar-la a la teva llengua.
God made the bulk; surfaces were invented by the devil.
—WOLFGANG PAULI
Even if it's driving me crazy, I have to really force myself to kill an insect. I don't know if it's out of pity. I don't think so. Maybe it's just a matter of getting used to certain states of affairs and then attempting to find one's place among these existing states, an acquiescence.
—HEINER MÜLLER
In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends. -- Martin Luther King, Jr.
Gott schuf das Volumen, der Teufel die Oberfläche. (Wolfgang Pauli)
Auch wenn es mich sehr stört, muss ich eine große Hemmung überwinden, um ein Insekt zu töten. Ich weiß nicht, ob es Mitleid ist. Ich glaube nicht, nein. Vielleicht einfach ein Sichgewöhnen an Zusammenhänge. Und ein Versuch, sich einzufügen in Zusammenhänge, die existieren, Einverständnis. (Heiner Müller)
Dedicatòria
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For Wolfgang
For Franz
For my friends
Für Wolfgang Für Franz Für meine Freunde
Primeres paraules
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Perhaps many more years still lie before him, or perhaps only a few.
Vielleicht liegen noch viele Jahre vor ihm, vielleicht nur noch ein paar.
Citacions
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In truth, what the refugees want from the Senate isn't a four-person room, a shower with individual stalls, or a bus stop just a short walk from the facility where they're housed. What they want is to be allowed to look for work, to organize their lives like any other person of sound body and mind.
And an instant later, just as forcefully, Richard is seized by the hope that this young man's innocence might transport him once more to the Germany of before, to the land already lost forever by the time he was born. Deutschland is beautiful. How beautiful it would be if it were true. Beautiful is hardly the word for it.
In the pause that now ensues, Richard considers what to say as a resident of a country that has seventy thousand vacant apprentice positions with no one to fill them, a country that suffers from a shortage of trained workers but is nonetheless unwilling to accept these dark-skinned refugees; these people can't just fly over Italy, Greece, or Turkey like birds in springtime without setting foot on the wrong soil—they can't be accepted as applicants for asylum, much less taken in, educated, and given work.
None of the men here ever drinks alcohol. None of them has his own apartment or even his own bed; all their clothing comes from donations. There's no car, no stereo, no gym membership, no outings, no travel, no wife, no children, or even the prospect of having a wife or children. Indeed the only thing that each one of the refugees owns is a phone, some have a phone with a broken display, some a recent model, some with internet access, some without. Broke the memory, Tristan said, when he told Richard how soldiers rendered the captives' cell phones inoperable back in Libya.
On every visit Richard notes that the men feel more at home in these wireless networks than in any of the countries in which they await their future. This system of numbers and passwords extending clear across continents is all the compensation they have for everything they've lost forever. What belongs to them is invisible and made of air.
Must living in peace- so fervently wished for throughout human history and yet enjoyed in only a few parts of the world- inevitably result in refusing to share it with those seeking refuge, defending it instead so aggressively that it almost looks like war?
Veel van wat Richard deze novemberdag een paar weken na zijn emeritaat leest, wist hij al bijna zijn hele leven, maar pas nu, door het beetje kennis dat hij toevallig heeft opgedaan, wordt alles weer anders en verandert het van samenstelling. Hoe vaak moet iemand dat wat hij weet nog een keer leren, telkens opnieuw ontdekken, hoeveel omhulsels moet hij weg trekken voor hij de dingen echt door en door begrijpt?
Darreres paraules
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Actually, yes, exactly like the surface of the sea.
Go, Went, Gone is the masterful new novel by the acclaimed German writer Jenny Erpenbeck, one of the most significant German-language novelists of her generation. The novel tells the tale of Richard, a retired classics professor who lives in Berlin. His wife has died, and he lives a routine existence until one day he spies some African refugees staging a hunger strike in Alexanderplatz. Curiosity turns to compassion and an inner transformation, as he visits their shelter, interviews them, and becomes embroiled in their harrowing fates. Go, Went, Gone is a scathing indictment of Western policy toward the European refugee crisis, but also a touching portrait of a man who finds he has more in common with the Africans than he realizes. Exquisitely translated by Susan Bernofsky, Go, Went, Gone addresses one of the most pivotal issues of our time, facing it head-on in a voice that is both nostalgic and frightening.
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