Stig Dagerman (1923–1954)
Autor von Gebranntes Kind Roman
Über den Autor
Stig Dagerman (1923-1954) was the literary wunderkind of his generation in Sweden. Surpassed in Swedish literature perhaps only by August Strindberg in terms of his work's compressed intensity, Dagerman's remarkable literary output came to an abrupt end when he committed suicide at the age of mehr anzeigen thirty-one. Gri Somnen(Sleep Walking) By Karin Mamma Anderson, 1986. The Artist is Represented by Galleri Magnus Karlsson, Stockholm and the David Zwirner Gallery, New York Photo by Buknowskis Auctions Author Photograph Courtesy of Norstedts Agency. weniger anzeigen
Hinweis zur Begriffsklärung:
(nor) Ref. Bjørn Ranelid har skrevet en "biografi"
Werke von Stig Dagerman
Kes kõrvetada saanud ... 6 Exemplare
Den yttersta dagen 5 Exemplare
Föräldrabesvär 4 Exemplare
Tusen år hos Gud 3 Exemplare
Vr̄t behov av trs̲t : prosa och poesi 1 Exemplar
Tusen r̄ hos Gud : en bert̃telse 1 Exemplar
Svenska radiopjäser 1955 1 Exemplar
Bröllopsbesvär 1 Exemplar
تارمایی مارت {KURDISH SORANI} 1 Exemplar
Judasdramer 1 Exemplar
Spiele der Nacht. Erzählungen 1 Exemplar
Notre besoin de consolation est impossible ?rassasier by Stig Dagerman (1993-08-10) (1734) 1 Exemplar
Dramer om dömda 1 Exemplar
Tysk höst : reportage 1 Exemplar
Svenska radiopjäser. 1955 1 Exemplar
Een partijtje zakschaak. 1 Exemplar
Hammars Bestiarium: 1 - De Röda Vagnarna 1 Exemplar
Nuestra necesidad de consuelo es insaciable 1 Exemplar
Nevoja jonë për ngushëllim nuk ka të ngopur 1 Exemplar
Zugehörige Werke
Getagged
Wissenswertes
- Rechtmäßiger Name
- Jansson, Stig Halvard
- Andere Namen
- Dagerman, Stig
- Geburtstag
- 1923-10-05
- Todestag
- 1954-11-04
- Begräbnisort
- Älvkarleby kyrkogård, Älvkarleby, Schweden
- Geschlecht
- male
- Nationalität
- Schweden
- Geburtsort
- Älvkarleby, Schweden
- Sterbeort
- Danderyd, Schweden
- Wohnorte
- Älvkarleby, Uppsala, Schweden
Danderyd, Schweden - Berufe
- Journalist
Schriftsteller - Kurzbiographie
- Stig Dagerman was one of the most popular Swedish writers of the 1940s, enjoying phenomenal success with novels, short stories, a book about postwar Germany, plays, poems, satirical verses, essays, and journalism.
- Hinweis zur Identitätsklärung
- Ref. Bjørn Ranelid har skrevet en "biografi"
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“She turned off the light and wakened the boy. How do you say in German “Am I a bad person?” He answered and fell back asleep.
Since then she always uses this. Bin ich ein schlechter Mensch? Saying it this way has its advantages. It sounds as if it concerns someone else, the foreign tongue serving as a buffer between the scream and silence. It turns the whole thing into a conundrum, and she often ends up thinking: Good Lord, I’m really an intellectual, you know. Fortunately she doesn’t know enough German to ever be able to answer her own question.”
“But Westlund doesn’t like seeing Siri’s heart cut out like a piece of cake.
“What have you done to the girl?” he shouts again, and now they all come and crowd together under then pendant lamp.
“We’ve just opened her little heart,” Mary explains, “There’s nothing more wonderful than opening small, small hearts.”
“When did you get this?” Irma asks in a scathing voice, and she points to a deep wound with festering edges.
“As long as I can remember,” Siri whispers, “I’ve always had it.””
“At the end, everyone falls asleep - all except one. Everyone always falls asleep at the end - all except the blessed. But before everyone falls asleep, a chase has taken place. Where to find the friend I seek? Each of them, before they fell asleep, had been searching. In the mornings, we find them sleeping everywhere, many in the strangest positions. In the mornings, the seekers are sleeping. Some sleep in the forest on black stones, stretched out across the stones, their nails torn. Some come floating along the current, their hair flowing in the opposite direction. Many are lying in meadows; in the mornings some meadows look like battlefields, but battlefields without blood. Some lie in hollows. This small, black hollow - could it be my home? But no one asks, all the seekers fall asleep wherever they have found something; and if they haven’t found anything, they fall asleep where they are. In the morning, we find many on glaciers, their arms melting, and some are hanging in the trees, vertically as if they were standing on air.
Yes, in the mornings we find them in all places, those who have been searching for their friend.”… (mehr)