Solar eclipse

Title: Solar Eclipse

Author: G. Konrad

Binding: Hardcover

EAN: 9789023412915

Condition: Good

Please note: Below is a general description of how we classify our condition types. If you would like a more precise picture or have specific questions, please send us a message and we will be happy to look into it for you.

Condition descriptions:
- As New: Hardly any signs of use, almost as new.
- Good: May show minor signs of use, such as some discoloration or a name on the endpapers, but generally no underlining or notes in the text.
- Fair: Book in fair condition. May show signs of use, such as discoloration, reading creases in spine, underlinings, notes, light soiling at edges, dog-ears, or a crooked spine.
- New: Book is new.

Description:
In Happiness, Konrád described his memories of the persecution of the Jews and the period immediately after the Second World War. In this second 'autobiographical novel' he picks up the thread in 1945. He writes about his student days, about the decisive year 1956, about the origins of his writing and the dark fifteen years during which he was banned from publishing in Hungary. Konrád masterfully portrays the atmosphere of the four decades of communist regime. The core question that occupies him, and not only when he writes openly about his three marriages, is: where do I feel at home? He is given the opportunity to emigrate to the West twice. Both times he decides to stay. Only a great writer can tell so clearly about the life questions he was confronted with in years of oppression and in those of freedom.
Konrád on Solar Eclipse:
'In this book I tell the story of my life, up to the present day, skating around some stories or just touching on them, comforting myself with the thought that I will still have the opportunity to visit them, that we will still meet - something I also add ominously to the dead in the cemetery.
My life? I was born in 1933; I was six years old when the Second World War broke out and eleven when, through luck and ingenuity, I survived. I was twelve when I turned out to have survived National Socialism. I was fifteen in the year of the forceful introduction of communism, grew older every year after that, together with the regime, and was fifty-six when it finally gave up the ghost. Life was slow. I didn't mind that -- what comes naturally is enough. Everything that is important comes from the decision I made in my adolescence: that I wanted to be a writer. A row of books: a continuous battle against an angel who was placed opposite me by fate. I walk forward into the public eye, mark my tracks, make my stations visible.'