Spontaneous Acts
Autor Yoko Tawada Traducere de Susan Bernofskyen Limba Engleză Paperback – 30 dec 2030
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Specificații
Recenzii
Tawada is an artist out on the tip of the spear. She isn't courting a readership, curating her image, coaxing popularity like some; she is pushing her art forward, and we as readers are welcome along for the ride if we can keep up. It's startling, breathtaking prose, literature at its purest. What to compare it to? Nothing. It is simply Tawadaesque...
This slim novel is a beautiful reflection on nationality, friendship and the value of art.
A poignant ode to artistic inspiration... Inventive and deeply human.
Yoko Tawada conjures a world between languages. . . . She is a master of subtraction, whose characters often find themselves stripped of language in foreign worlds.
Tawada disrupts our perception and reveals the terror and beauty of our world as we get lost in it, and regain our footing through reading her novels.
Tawada is a master of defamiliarization and ultimately of the unity that can arise from the discord of human consciousness. I read Spontaneous Acts in a state of fascination and wonder.
A love letter to language and to connection . . . Tawada effortlessly unfurls flesh and blood into a world of intricacies and untethered thoughts.
A keen observer of cultural and linguistic dislocation, Tawada has absorbed a kind of anti-language from Celan, a deeply affecting, sui generis diction unmoored from nationality or obvious tradition.
The varied characters in Tawada's work―from different countries, of different sexes and species―are united by the quality that Walter Benjamin describes as "crepuscular": "None has a firm place in the world, or firm, inalienable outlines."
Reads almost like a cautionary tale . . . this is what happens if you devote your life to poetry. Celan's poems are Patrik's only confidants . . . This is Tawada's pandemic novel, which is never addressed directly―but it explains why so many buildings are closed, and why Patrik's desire for connection has a hysterical, unresolved urgency.
Tawada is interested in language at its most elusive or incomprehensible.
Praise for Yoko Tawada
'Something about the way Tawada writes... allows the reader to take the most surreal and fantastical elements of the work completely seriously' Lucy Scholes
'Tawada writes beautifully about unbearable things' Sara Baume
Praise for The Last Children of Tokyo
'Hums with beautiful strangeness' New York Times
'Achieves a technically impossible balance of open-hearted fable and cold-blooded satire' Financial Times
'A joyful exploration of language, a constantly surprising and exciting romp' Daisy Johnson
'Carries us beyond the limits of what it is to be human, in order to remind us what we must hold dearest in our conflicted world, our humanity' Sjón
This slim novel is a beautiful reflection on nationality, friendship and the value of art.
A poignant ode to artistic inspiration... Inventive and deeply human.
Yoko Tawada conjures a world between languages. . . . She is a master of subtraction, whose characters often find themselves stripped of language in foreign worlds.
Tawada disrupts our perception and reveals the terror and beauty of our world as we get lost in it, and regain our footing through reading her novels.
Tawada is a master of defamiliarization and ultimately of the unity that can arise from the discord of human consciousness. I read Spontaneous Acts in a state of fascination and wonder.
A love letter to language and to connection . . . Tawada effortlessly unfurls flesh and blood into a world of intricacies and untethered thoughts.
A keen observer of cultural and linguistic dislocation, Tawada has absorbed a kind of anti-language from Celan, a deeply affecting, sui generis diction unmoored from nationality or obvious tradition.
The varied characters in Tawada's work―from different countries, of different sexes and species―are united by the quality that Walter Benjamin describes as "crepuscular": "None has a firm place in the world, or firm, inalienable outlines."
Reads almost like a cautionary tale . . . this is what happens if you devote your life to poetry. Celan's poems are Patrik's only confidants . . . This is Tawada's pandemic novel, which is never addressed directly―but it explains why so many buildings are closed, and why Patrik's desire for connection has a hysterical, unresolved urgency.
Tawada is interested in language at its most elusive or incomprehensible.
Praise for Yoko Tawada
'Something about the way Tawada writes... allows the reader to take the most surreal and fantastical elements of the work completely seriously' Lucy Scholes
'Tawada writes beautifully about unbearable things' Sara Baume
Praise for The Last Children of Tokyo
'Hums with beautiful strangeness' New York Times
'Achieves a technically impossible balance of open-hearted fable and cold-blooded satire' Financial Times
'A joyful exploration of language, a constantly surprising and exciting romp' Daisy Johnson
'Carries us beyond the limits of what it is to be human, in order to remind us what we must hold dearest in our conflicted world, our humanity' Sjón