The Tanners
by Robert Walser
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The Tanners, Robert Walser's amazing 1907 novel of twenty chapters, is now presented in English for the very first time, by the award-winning translator Susan Bernofsky. Three brothers and a sister comprise the Tanner family--Simon, Kaspar, Klaus, and Hedwig: their wanderings, meetings, separations, quarrels, romances, employment and lack of employment over the course of a year or two are the threads from which Walser weaves his airy, strange and brightly gorgeous fabric. "Walser's lightness show more islighter than light," as Tom Whalen said in Bookforum: "buoyant up to and beyond belief, terrifyingly light." Robert Walser--admired greatly by Kafka, Musil, and Walter Benjamin--is a radiantly original author. He has been acclaimed "unforgettable, heart-rending" (J.M. Coetzee), "a bewitched genius" (Newsweek), and "a major, truly wonderful, heart-breaking writer" (Susan Sontag). Considering Walser's "perfect and serene oddity," Michael Hofmann inThe London Review of Books remarked on the "Buster Keaton-like indomitably sad cheerfulness [that is] most hilariously disturbing."The Los Angeles Times called him "the dreamy confectionary snowflake of German language fiction. He also might be the single most underrated writer of the 20th century....The gait of his language is quieter than a kitten's." "A clairvoyant of the small" W. G. Sebald calls Robert Walser, one of his favorite writers in the world, in his acutely beautiful, personal, and long introduction, studded with his signature use of photographs. show lessTags
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The book starts out with a job interview, which made me fear that this would be like [b:The Assistant|335333|The Assistant (New Directions Paperbook)|Robert Walser|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1173843242s/335333.jpg|3120198]: Part 2, another book about holding a job. The familiar elements were there: the long-winded flowery speeches, the expressions of extreme emotion, the humorous toying with tone. I loved that book, mind you, but with a different book I wanted a different experience.
Luckily, things moved quickly on and so did Simon, the main character, who can't keep a job or a residence for longer than a few weeks, and wanders aimlessly throughout the book, but in a most delicious manner. The prose, too, wanders aimlessly, never show more settling down on a singular purpose, but searching, revelling, perhaps dilly-dallying, sometimes singing a tune in its little head, or bursting out in a most unwarranted way then shrinking back slightly. I found this to be Walser's most personal and touching novel so far, with earnest passages that pondered a number of different topics: art, women, misfortune, ambition, poverty, city life, etc.
Despite the humor and the lightness of Walser's voice, it is impressive how he can be simultaneously sad also, but his sadness is one that's rarely spoken out loud, and is less a solid emotion than a wistfulness you might catch in the eyes of a stranger departing on a long journey. It's a quietness that moves below the wildlife of his prose. And every once in a while it rises to the surface with surprising candor:
Sebald's introduction to this volume is well worth the read also. I love thinking about Sebald reading Walser, these two complete outsiders in very different ways, connecting over the ellipsis of literature. show less
Luckily, things moved quickly on and so did Simon, the main character, who can't keep a job or a residence for longer than a few weeks, and wanders aimlessly throughout the book, but in a most delicious manner. The prose, too, wanders aimlessly, never show more settling down on a singular purpose, but searching, revelling, perhaps dilly-dallying, sometimes singing a tune in its little head, or bursting out in a most unwarranted way then shrinking back slightly. I found this to be Walser's most personal and touching novel so far, with earnest passages that pondered a number of different topics: art, women, misfortune, ambition, poverty, city life, etc.
How reprehensible it is when those blessed with commodities insist on ignoring the poor. Better to torment them, force them into indentured servitude, inflict compulsion and blows—this at least produces a connection, fury and a pounding heart, and these too constitute a form of relationship. But to cower in elegant homes behind golden garden gates, fearful lest the breath of warm humankind touch you, unable to indulge in extravagances for fear they might be glimpsed by the embittered oppressed, to oppress and yet lack the courage to show yourself as an oppressor, even to fear the ones you are oppressing, feeling ill at ease in your own wealth and begrudging others their ease, to resort to disagreeable weapons that require neither true audacity nor manly courage, to have money, but only money, without splendor: That’s what things look like in our cities at present (p. 172)Throughout the book Simon returns in mind and/or body repeatedly to his siblings: Klaus, Kaspar, Hedwig, and Emil(? I forget if this is his name, since he is mentioned only once). The particular dynamic of the Tanner family is sketched out through these episodes where you get to know each one personally, and you see how these interrelations affect them, how each plays a strict role despite him/herself, and how Simon loves each one differently. The mix of emotions is captured perfectly.
Despite the humor and the lightness of Walser's voice, it is impressive how he can be simultaneously sad also, but his sadness is one that's rarely spoken out loud, and is less a solid emotion than a wistfulness you might catch in the eyes of a stranger departing on a long journey. It's a quietness that moves below the wildlife of his prose. And every once in a while it rises to the surface with surprising candor:
For her children, our mother had, when she was still healthy, something almost majestic about her that frightened and intimidated us; when she became ill in her mind, we pitied her. It was a crazy leap to make: from fearful, mystical awe to pity. All that lay between—tenderness and trust—remained unknown to us. And so it happened that our pity was strongly intermingled with an unspeakable regret over all we'd never felt, which then caused us to pity her all the more deeply.The novel feels messy, unfinished in parts, but in the best of ways, like a well loved pair of trousers, colorful patches over all its holes. Some sections seem to be left out entirely, and you're left imagining what happened between the last episode and this one, where surely Simon (being slightly bipolar, perhaps) was feeling reticent, perhaps a little down, but you're just happy he's talking again now, and you want him to keep talking.
Sebald's introduction to this volume is well worth the read also. I love thinking about Sebald reading Walser, these two complete outsiders in very different ways, connecting over the ellipsis of literature. show less
The book starts out with a job interview, which made me fear that this would be like [b:The Assistant|335333|The Assistant (New Directions Paperbook)|Robert Walser|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1173843242s/335333.jpg|3120198]: Part 2, another book about holding a job. The familiar elements were there: the long-winded flowery speeches, the expressions of extreme emotion, the humorous toying with tone. I loved that book, mind you, but with a different book I wanted a different experience.
Luckily, things moved quickly on and so did Simon, the main character, who can't keep a job or a residence for longer than a few weeks, and wanders aimlessly throughout the book, but in a most delicious manner. The prose, too, wanders aimlessly, never show more settling down on a singular purpose, but searching, revelling, perhaps dilly-dallying, sometimes singing a tune in its little head, or bursting out in a most unwarranted way then shrinking back slightly. I found this to be Walser's most personal and touching novel so far, with earnest passages that pondered a number of different topics: art, women, misfortune, ambition, poverty, city life, etc.
Despite the humor and the lightness of Walser's voice, it is impressive how he can be simultaneously sad also, but his sadness is one that's rarely spoken out loud, and is less a solid emotion than a wistfulness you might catch in the eyes of a stranger departing on a long journey. It's a quietness that moves below the wildlife of his prose. And every once in a while it rises to the surface with surprising candor:
Sebald's introduction to this volume is well worth the read also. I love thinking about Sebald reading Walser, these two complete outsiders in very different ways, connecting over the ellipsis of literature. show less
Luckily, things moved quickly on and so did Simon, the main character, who can't keep a job or a residence for longer than a few weeks, and wanders aimlessly throughout the book, but in a most delicious manner. The prose, too, wanders aimlessly, never show more settling down on a singular purpose, but searching, revelling, perhaps dilly-dallying, sometimes singing a tune in its little head, or bursting out in a most unwarranted way then shrinking back slightly. I found this to be Walser's most personal and touching novel so far, with earnest passages that pondered a number of different topics: art, women, misfortune, ambition, poverty, city life, etc.
How reprehensible it is when those blessed with commodities insist on ignoring the poor. Better to torment them, force them into indentured servitude, inflict compulsion and blows—this at least produces a connection, fury and a pounding heart, and these too constitute a form of relationship. But to cower in elegant homes behind golden garden gates, fearful lest the breath of warm humankind touch you, unable to indulge in extravagances for fear they might be glimpsed by the embittered oppressed, to oppress and yet lack the courage to show yourself as an oppressor, even to fear the ones you are oppressing, feeling ill at ease in your own wealth and begrudging others their ease, to resort to disagreeable weapons that require neither true audacity nor manly courage, to have money, but only money, without splendor: That’s what things look like in our cities at present (p. 172)Throughout the book Simon returns in mind and/or body repeatedly to his siblings: Klaus, Kaspar, Hedwig, and Emil(? I forget if this is his name, since he is mentioned only once). The particular dynamic of the Tanner family is sketched out through these episodes where you get to know each one personally, and you see how these interrelations affect them, how each plays a strict role despite him/herself, and how Simon loves each one differently. The mix of emotions is captured perfectly.
Despite the humor and the lightness of Walser's voice, it is impressive how he can be simultaneously sad also, but his sadness is one that's rarely spoken out loud, and is less a solid emotion than a wistfulness you might catch in the eyes of a stranger departing on a long journey. It's a quietness that moves below the wildlife of his prose. And every once in a while it rises to the surface with surprising candor:
For her children, our mother had, when she was still healthy, something almost majestic about her that frightened and intimidated us; when she became ill in her mind, we pitied her. It was a crazy leap to make: from fearful, mystical awe to pity. All that lay between—tenderness and trust—remained unknown to us. And so it happened that our pity was strongly intermingled with an unspeakable regret over all we'd never felt, which then caused us to pity her all the more deeply.The novel feels messy, unfinished in parts, but in the best of ways, like a well loved pair of trousers, colorful patches over all its holes. Some sections seem to be left out entirely, and you're left imagining what happened between the last episode and this one, where surely Simon (being slightly bipolar, perhaps) was feeling reticent, perhaps a little down, but you're just happy he's talking again now, and you want him to keep talking.
Sebald's introduction to this volume is well worth the read also. I love thinking about Sebald reading Walser, these two complete outsiders in very different ways, connecting over the ellipsis of literature. show less
I don't want to go running down some career path—supposedly such a grand enterprise. What's so grand about it: people acquiring crooked backs at an early age from stooping at undersized desks, wrinkled hands, pale faces, mutilated workday trousers, trembling legs, fat bellies, sour stomachs, bald spots upon their skulls, bitter, snappish, leathery, faded, insipid eyes, ravaged brows and the consciousness of having been conscientious fools. No thank you!Robert Walser was an odd fish and I like him a lot. Even though he once said, as W. G. Sebald reports in the introduction to this book, that he was essentially always writing the same novel, one which he said could be described as "a much-chopped up or dismembered Book of Myself," I show more will continue reading his same-as-before novels because they captivate me. I like to think of him up in his stuffy attic room, frantically writing on borrowed paper with stolen pens, gripped in the passion of that writing, of hurling his herky-jerky version of the world down onto the page.
The Tanners is the disjointed story of the Tanner siblings: Simon, Klaus, Kaspar, and Hedwig (oh, and the mysterious Emil, who later randomly shows up in another character's anecdote). Primarily, the "plot" (such as it is) follows the adventures of Simon as he bounces around from job to job while basically pursuing the sublime. From the start, Simon reminded me of Jakob from Walser's anti-Bildungsroman Jakob von Gunten, with his similar tendency toward mockery traced with veins of sincerity. Or maybe it was just straight mockery, maybe I imagined the traces of sincerity—it's really so hard for me to say for sure. When Simon refers to his own cheekiness, I couldn't stop thinking about that Saturday Night Live sketch where Mike Myers plays Simon, the kid in the bath making drawings who calls people "cheeky monkeys." It's always unsettling for me when pop culture and literature suddenly collide in my head. And yet, the two Simons do share similarities, if only superficial ones. But I digress. Simon is a self-described ne'er-do-well prone to walking all night through the mountains to visit his artist brother Kaspar, his closest sibling. Simon's gleeful flippancy is infectious and makes him a likely candidate for the reader's sympathy. Hedwig is the only sister in the bunch, a small town schoolteacher who Simon also stays with for an extended visit. They bond, but she suspects him of being a freeloader, which he sort of is. Hedwig is an interesting character, and Walser allots her some good speeches. Finally, Klaus is the older brother, a stodgy straight-arrow type who thinks he knows what's best for all of his siblings. He is annoyingly overbearing, though probably well-meaning.
In the introduction, Sebald draws some parallels between Gogol and Walser that I found to be relevant, having just finished a book of Gogol's short fiction. Like Gogol, Walser has a tendency to introduce characters who at the time seem like they may come to play important roles in his narrative, only to either suddenly kill them off or fade them into the background. Sometimes they also reappear later, just out of the blue, and fill us in on what they've been up to for the past year or however long they've been gone from the narrative. The aimless plot wanders down side streets, dead-ends, turns around, leaves the city, climbs a mountain, walks off a cliff, gets a concussion, and turns up back in the city again a few chapters later with a new lease on life. Or something like that. I was anthropomorphizing the plot just then. I would imagine that the general unreliability of Walser's prose could easily become maddening for some readers. The key is to float along with Walser wherever he chooses to take you. One must surrender completely in order to enjoy reading; there is no fighting it because Walser will always win. Always. We are on an adventure with him, as he discovers his own truths in his writing. In this way he is also very much like Gogol, who eschewed the narrative traditions of the time and instead went off happily exploring in his prose.
Throughout the book, Walser spins a gauzy web of natural beauty around his characters who, when not walking around outside enjoying the weather or laying stretched out in the forest, very much tend to spout off lengthy monologues in the general direction of each other, not seeming to expect responses and, in fact, rarely getting them. Walser's prose is so sensual, his descriptions of both urban and rural settings sparkle with crisp detail clearly borne of a sharply observant mind. Half the novel one falls into a reverie, while the other half one stares at the closest wall, noting the intricate cracks in the plaster with genuine interest.
Despite the lack of plot, there are certain themes to pick out. With Simon and Hedwig, we find themes of youth discovering themselves, the search for meaning and happiness in one's life, and the ever-painful plight of the daydreamers among us. With Kaspar, there are the ideals of art and the difficulties inherent in one's pursuit of those ideals. In Klaus, we see a rather sharp critique of mainstream society and the trappings of materialism and the pursuit of wealth. Readers who have siblings, particularly multiple siblings, will also likely enjoy the novel on another level less accessible to those who don't, for Walser does an admirable job of portraying the complicated and contradictory dynamics that often characterize sibling relationships.
As Simon opines late in the book, "How tedious it was always to be doing exactly the same thing." Some books always do exactly the same thing, what we expect them to do, over and over. Not with Walser. Even if he did claim to be writing the same novel over and over, it's still worth reading over and over, because it's granular, it's made up of life's strikingly mundane and spectacular moments, as pointed out by the likes of Simon, who, after all, claims to be "an outlandish figure in my own homeland." I may never travel again. show less
The Tanners has a wonderful lightness of tone that is vivid and delivers rich insights. The novel moves quickly along delighting the reader. The theme seems to be about the inability of conformity to make us happy; it is also a meditation on work and idleness, self-exile and esthetic joy—especially of the natural world but also of artistic expression. Protagonist Simon Tanner is one of the great free spirits of literature. His speeches are a delight and at times quite funny. He speaks to authority with all the headstrong yet polite resolve we usually fail to muster in life. The central concern of the characters seems to be one of ecstatic engagement with the world, which they achieve with a giddy ebullience. I am reminded of Lacan's show more "scopophilia" in the very conscious way Simon casts his gaze about—and exults in—his surroundings. The novel's key device seems to be longish first-person monologues. Be advised, however, there's not much of a plot, which will be an obstacle for some readers.
The novel was written by Walser when he was in his twenties yet there can be no question of its maturity. Walser was greatly admired by Franz Kafka and his work at times seems a crisper, less cluttered version of the more famous writer's; though it should be stressed that Walser's is a unique voice in fiction. The best thing one can say about a writer is that there's is no one quite like him or her, and this very much applies to Walser. In the late 1920s Walser began to hear voices and in 1929 was consigned to Waldau, an asylum near Bern. He was discharged in 1933 but never again took up the pen with alacrity. The many years of eight-to-ten hour writing days were over. The book includes a major essay by W.G. Sebald that I have not come across elsewhere. It's mostly about Walser's The Robber but it addresses his work in general terms as well. Recommended with great brio. show less
The novel was written by Walser when he was in his twenties yet there can be no question of its maturity. Walser was greatly admired by Franz Kafka and his work at times seems a crisper, less cluttered version of the more famous writer's; though it should be stressed that Walser's is a unique voice in fiction. The best thing one can say about a writer is that there's is no one quite like him or her, and this very much applies to Walser. In the late 1920s Walser began to hear voices and in 1929 was consigned to Waldau, an asylum near Bern. He was discharged in 1933 but never again took up the pen with alacrity. The many years of eight-to-ten hour writing days were over. The book includes a major essay by W.G. Sebald that I have not come across elsewhere. It's mostly about Walser's The Robber but it addresses his work in general terms as well. Recommended with great brio. show less
Robert Walser, The Tanners
The Tanners is the last novel Robert Walser published before entering the madhouse -- and we waited a century for this translation. This is the last of Walser's novels to be translated, which leads one to think it must be the bottom of the barrel somehow, like the last of Hemingway. But no, not at all! It's as lovely as anything Walser wrote. I can't believe my good fortune, finding this now, after re-reading the NYRB Walser Selected Stories so many times it may qualify as a personal tic.
The Tanners is the story of five siblings and focuses on Simon, who explains, "I am the youngest and the one who occasions the fewest hopes." Like every Walser protagonist, he wanders around dreaming, walking, losing jobs, show more renting rooms, and praising women without actually getting involved with them. He moves from misfortune to misfortune, and praises them all.
The translation, by Susan Bernofsky, reads so beautifully. Can she be enticed to do more? How about a fresh selection of stories? Can we take up a collection?
This book is full of all the strange things only Walser can do -- the peculiar storm light of mania, the special cheerfulness of extremely depressed people, the vast detached love of which they are capable. Magic is spun from the most pedestrian adjectives. So much that is dreamy, disappointing, unfathomable -- it's so nearly weightless and at the same time succeeds in catching so many extraordinary moments and feelings.
There's something so exhilarating about Walser's protagonist, an eternal zero, who never succeeds at anything -- but also never seems to fail in any way that matters. (I love the way people fail in this novel. Money is lost, wives are abandoned, people freeze to death in the forest -- but no one ever seems to mind.) It's exhilarating to read about someone who isn't interested in success, power, importance, travel or sexual conquest -- I feel myself in the presence of a man who has stumbled upon real life. show less
The Tanners is the last novel Robert Walser published before entering the madhouse -- and we waited a century for this translation. This is the last of Walser's novels to be translated, which leads one to think it must be the bottom of the barrel somehow, like the last of Hemingway. But no, not at all! It's as lovely as anything Walser wrote. I can't believe my good fortune, finding this now, after re-reading the NYRB Walser Selected Stories so many times it may qualify as a personal tic.
The Tanners is the story of five siblings and focuses on Simon, who explains, "I am the youngest and the one who occasions the fewest hopes." Like every Walser protagonist, he wanders around dreaming, walking, losing jobs, show more renting rooms, and praising women without actually getting involved with them. He moves from misfortune to misfortune, and praises them all.
The translation, by Susan Bernofsky, reads so beautifully. Can she be enticed to do more? How about a fresh selection of stories? Can we take up a collection?
This book is full of all the strange things only Walser can do -- the peculiar storm light of mania, the special cheerfulness of extremely depressed people, the vast detached love of which they are capable. Magic is spun from the most pedestrian adjectives. So much that is dreamy, disappointing, unfathomable -- it's so nearly weightless and at the same time succeeds in catching so many extraordinary moments and feelings.
There's something so exhilarating about Walser's protagonist, an eternal zero, who never succeeds at anything -- but also never seems to fail in any way that matters. (I love the way people fail in this novel. Money is lost, wives are abandoned, people freeze to death in the forest -- but no one ever seems to mind.) It's exhilarating to read about someone who isn't interested in success, power, importance, travel or sexual conquest -- I feel myself in the presence of a man who has stumbled upon real life. show less
«Non sono niente altro se non uno che ascolta e attende, come tale però perfetto, perché ho imparato a sognare mentre attendo».
p. 275
«Non ho nessuna paura di prendere anche io una forma, ma formarmi definitivamente è una cosa che desidero fare il più tardi possibile».
p. 276
Questo è il mio secondo Walser. Ci ho messo un po' a tornare a questo autore perché cinque anni fa La passeggiata proprio non mi era piaciuto. Mi ero sentito obbligato a leggere Walser per l'ampio coro di lodi che continuavo a trovare in riferimenti culturali per me importanti, ma il mio giudizio finale sul libro era stato negativo, espresso dall'aggettivo "adolescenziale". Ora torno a questo autore con un'opera più ampia e "solida" (benché precedente) e show more apprezzo - credo - quanto cinque anni fa non riuscivo ad amare. La piacevole sensazione è quella di aver limato alcune mie asprezze e rigidità che avevo accumulato ed essere tornato a un senso dello stupore che posso definire, di nuovo, "adolescenziale". E stavolta uso il termine in chiave positiva. L'aspetto che più ho apprezzato di questo libro (pur appesantito, devo dirlo, da dialoghi e soliloqui troppo lunghi e ridondanti) è la capacità di descrivere l'inatteso dell'incontro, vero meccanismo narrativo che sorregge l'intrecciarsi delle vicende dei cinque fratelli Tanner. In questo senso, questo libro è un oggetto piacevolmente misterioso, pieno di svolte narrative in cui è il caso a determinare quanto seguirà. Non do un voto pieno a questa mia lettura per il motivo citato sopra (trovo il libro troppo lungo), ma aver trovato e apprezzato questa diversa chiave di lettura dello stupore in Walser è prezioso e mi guiderà senz'altro a leggere qualcos'altro di suo. show less
p. 275
«Non ho nessuna paura di prendere anche io una forma, ma formarmi definitivamente è una cosa che desidero fare il più tardi possibile».
p. 276
Questo è il mio secondo Walser. Ci ho messo un po' a tornare a questo autore perché cinque anni fa La passeggiata proprio non mi era piaciuto. Mi ero sentito obbligato a leggere Walser per l'ampio coro di lodi che continuavo a trovare in riferimenti culturali per me importanti, ma il mio giudizio finale sul libro era stato negativo, espresso dall'aggettivo "adolescenziale". Ora torno a questo autore con un'opera più ampia e "solida" (benché precedente) e show more apprezzo - credo - quanto cinque anni fa non riuscivo ad amare. La piacevole sensazione è quella di aver limato alcune mie asprezze e rigidità che avevo accumulato ed essere tornato a un senso dello stupore che posso definire, di nuovo, "adolescenziale". E stavolta uso il termine in chiave positiva. L'aspetto che più ho apprezzato di questo libro (pur appesantito, devo dirlo, da dialoghi e soliloqui troppo lunghi e ridondanti) è la capacità di descrivere l'inatteso dell'incontro, vero meccanismo narrativo che sorregge l'intrecciarsi delle vicende dei cinque fratelli Tanner. In questo senso, questo libro è un oggetto piacevolmente misterioso, pieno di svolte narrative in cui è il caso a determinare quanto seguirà. Non do un voto pieno a questa mia lettura per il motivo citato sopra (trovo il libro troppo lungo), ma aver trovato e apprezzato questa diversa chiave di lettura dello stupore in Walser è prezioso e mi guiderà senz'altro a leggere qualcos'altro di suo. show less
I found Simon, the main character and youngest brother of the Tanner siblings, to be an intriguing character. He is the antithesis a man with the kind of ambition we are taught to admire. In this so-called modern world we try to inhabit these days, a life of wandering, subsistence jobs, ragged clothing, fleeting acquaintances, and few ties to people or things is what we associate with the homeless. They are to be shunned or pitied. Walser as Simon offered gems of a life philosophy throughtout the book which seems to be quite autobiographical. Walser lived over half his life in a mental institution yet still wrote with much difficulty on tiny scraps of paper.
There is no real plot which is also a mirror of a life lived without ambition show more to be something. This sounds depressing and horrible to the modern ear, but there is no pretense in either the book or Simon. We all meet people or have family members who don't quite fit with what is expected of them, but what they and Simon bring to life is an alternative to the well trod path of respectability and repression. It struck me that Simon could have been very much at home in San Francisco in the 1960s. The book ends when Simon is only 21 leaving much to the reader's imagination as to what happens to him. This is a book I would like to read again. It is a coming of age story of a man who will never really come of age or perhaps a story of nothing at all. show less
There is no real plot which is also a mirror of a life lived without ambition show more to be something. This sounds depressing and horrible to the modern ear, but there is no pretense in either the book or Simon. We all meet people or have family members who don't quite fit with what is expected of them, but what they and Simon bring to life is an alternative to the well trod path of respectability and repression. It struck me that Simon could have been very much at home in San Francisco in the 1960s. The book ends when Simon is only 21 leaving much to the reader's imagination as to what happens to him. This is a book I would like to read again. It is a coming of age story of a man who will never really come of age or perhaps a story of nothing at all. show less
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Common Knowledge
- Canonical title*
- Geschwister Tanner
- Original title
- Geschwister Tanner
- Original publication date
- 1907
- People/Characters*
- Simon Tanner; Kaspar Tanner; Hedwig Tanner; Klaus Tanner; Emil Tanner; Klara Agappaia
- First words
- Eines Morgens trat ein junger, knabenhafter Mann bei einem Buchhändler ein und bat, daß man ihn dem Prinzipal vorstellen möge.
Una mañana, un joven de aspecto adolescente entró en una librería y pidió ser presentado al dueño. - Quotations
- No puedo vivir y despreciar mi vida. Tengo que buscarme otra vida, una nueva, aunque mi vida entera deba consistir en la simple búsqueda de esa vida.
- Last words
- (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)Venga, vamos ...
- Original language
- German
- Disambiguation notice
- 3518376098 1986 softcover German suhrkamp taschenbuch 1109
3518392247 1997 softcover Geman suhrkamp taschenbuch 2724, Romane des Jahrhunderts
3518399829 2003 softcover German suhrkamp taschenbuch 3482
*Some information comes from Common Knowledge in other languages. Click "Edit" for more information.
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- 833.912 — Literature & rhetoric German & related literatures German fiction 1900- 1900-1990 1900-1945
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- PT2647 .A64 .G513 — Language and Literature German, Dutch and Scandinavian literatures German literature Individual authors or works 1860/70-1960
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- Paper, Ebook
- ISBNs
- 41
- ASINs
- 7
