Castle Gripsholm
By Kurt Tucholsky
Introduction by Michael Hofmann
Translated by Michael Hofmann
By Kurt Tucholsky
Introduction by Michael Hofmann
Translated by Michael Hofmann
By Kurt Tucholsky
Introduction by Michael Hofmann
Translated by Michael Hofmann
By Kurt Tucholsky
Introduction by Michael Hofmann
Translated by Michael Hofmann
Category: Historical Fiction | Literary Fiction
Category: Historical Fiction | Literary Fiction
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$14.95
May 07, 2019 | ISBN 9781681373348
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May 07, 2019 | ISBN 9781681373355
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Praise
“Some books, like most summer holidays, feel entirely undeserved and all too brief. Such is the case with the delightful Castle Gripsholm.“ —Jan Wilm, Music and Literature
“[A] monument to the loss of faith in language and the depredations upon creativity brought about by large-scale political evil . . . the formal disjointedness which terror and despair evidently incited now reads as more truthful—it’s certainly far more moving—than ever a more finished fiction, a more polished satire would have been.” —The Observer
“The first writers that come to mind when reading Tucholsky are Nabokov and Ford . . . [Tucholsky is] a master of the studied nonchalance of the tidily perverse.” —The Times (London)
“One of the most brilliant writers of republican Germany . . . Tucholsky was known and feared for his sharp wit by all his enemies in Germany. More than anyone else, he foresaw what was coming there. What his readers enjoyed as capricious fantasies of a clever satirist [were] enacted in bitter reality.” —The New York Times
“The author, a polemical journalist during the last days of the Weimar Republic, chose in this, his only novel, to write about the pleasures of wine and women and the gratifications of friendship, and to do so in prose so luminous and exuberant that the bitterness of real life seems . . . an intrusion.” —Publishers Weekly
“Kurt Tucholsky wrote songs for Berlin revues, ridiculed the Nazis . . . and found refuge in Sweden only to take his own life. . . . There is scarcely any figure in English literature with quite the same degree of acid corrosiveness. One has the sense that all our little disappointments—in love, in business, in politics—are but manifestations of the collective disappointment that is life itself.”
—Michael J. Lewis, Commentary
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