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Wissenswertes

Rechtmäßiger Name: Juvacev, Daniil Ivanovic
Andere Namen: Charms, Daniil
Geburtstag: 1905-12-30
Todestag: 1942-02-02
Geschlecht: male
Nationalität: Rusland
Land (für Karte): Russia
Geburtsort: St. Petersburg, Rusland
Sterbeort: Leningrad, Russia, USSR
Todesursache: Forgotten in prison in Leningrad USSR he died of hunger
Wohnorte: St. Petersburg, Rusland
Ausbildung: Leningrad Electrotechnicum (expelled)
St Peter's School, St Petersburg, Russian Empire
Berufe: poet
children's book author
playwright
Organisationen: OBERIU (Association for Real Art)
Kurzbiographie: Married first to Esther Rusakova, then to Marina Malich.

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Rezensionen

Today I Wrote Nothing von Daniil Kharms

I can see why some people would hate Kharms' work but personally I am convinced that he is a genius. It's probably better to read it slowly over a longer period of time though. I wouldn't recommend trying to read it all in one sitting. Some of the stuff in this collection is better than others but overall I thought it was really good and got a lot out of it I think. These "stories" (they're more like poems a lot of the time are like nothing else I've ever read.

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ZetaRiemann | 12 weitere Rezensionen | Apr 19, 2024 |

Today I Wrote Nothing: The Selected Writing of… von Daniil Kharms

Better not to talk about Kharms.

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3Oranges | 12 weitere Rezensionen | Jun 24, 2023 |

Disastri von Daniil I. Charms

Se il mondo reale diventa un’assurda costruzione dominata da un regime totalitario che trasforma le persone in oggetti privandoli della loro individualità e costringendoli a una confomità limitante, cosa rimane se non il rifugiarsi in un mondo fantastico, paradossale e realmente assurdo?

Charms descrive un mondo in cui l’assurdità diventa normalità, un mondo in cui un pipistrello potrebbe davvero essere un uccello con i denti.

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claudio.marchisio | Dec 26, 2022 |

Today I Wrote Nothing: The Selected Writing of… von Daniil Kharms

"To have only intelligence and talent is too little. One must also have energy, real interest, clarity of thought, and a sense of obligation." - Daniil Kharms, Blue Notebook #23

Whatever anyone thinks of Daniil Kharms, it can't be denied that he possessed all the qualities that he claimed in his Blue Notebook to be so important. Everything he wrote was flooded with his energy, and while it may be difficult to figure out exactly what was going on in his head while he was writing, there's no doubt that it was consistent.

If you set aside Kharms' short story "The Old Woman", Today I Wrote Nothing: The Selected Writings contains 152 different pieces over the course of 185 pages. Most of them go something like this:

Petrov gets on his horse and, addressing the crowd, delivers a speech about what would happen if, in place of the public garden, they'd build an American skyscraper. The crowd listens and, it seems, agrees. Petrov writes something down in his notebook. A man of medium height emerges from the crowd and asks Petrov what he wrote down in his notebook. Petrov replies that it concerns himself alone. The man of medium height presses him. Words are exchanged and discord begins. The crowd takes the side of the man of medium height and Petrov, saving his life, drives his horse on and disappears around the bend. The crowd panics and, having no other victim, grabs the man of medium height and tears off his head. The torn-off head rolls down the street and gets stuck in the hatch of a sewer drain. The crowd, having satisfied its passions, disperses.

It's one thing to read one story like that, but reading one after another after another over the course of several hours really makes you question the way you're living your life.

That doesn't mean I didn't like the collection. I enjoyed the majority of the pieces, and I marked down 10-15 of them that I particularly enjoyed. I just wish that the editor had picked the "selected writings" a little more selectively.

The best of the bunch is the 25-page story "The Old Woman". It's funny, scary, and compelling in a way that you wouldn't expect from a writer so focused on deadpan micro-fiction, and it really speaks to his artistic potential, which was snuffed out in a prison in Leningrad in 1942.

Matvei Yankelevich, the editor and translator of the collection, wrote an excellent introduction in which he addresses the tendency of modern critics to tie Kharms' work to an anti-Soviet ideology, an idea that doesn't make sense given Kharms' personal goals in his writing. Kharms believed in art's obligation to work outside of any sort of logical understanding of the world, meaning that our assumptions of political intent actually underestimate how far he is trying to push the reader. Yeah, most of this is silly (I now get how most of Kharms' success in his lifetime came from writing children's stories), but it's silly on Kharms' terms, not ours. That, more than anything, is how he operated at his best: on his own terms.

And that's it, more or less.… (mehr)