Little Snow Landscape

(Author) (Translator)
Backorder (temporarily out of stock)

Product Details

Price
$15.95  $14.83
Publisher
New York Review of Books
Publish Date
Pages
208
Dimensions
5.0 X 7.9 X 0.6 inches | 0.5 pounds
Language
English
Type
Paperback
EAN/UPC
9781681375229

Earn by promoting books

Earn money by sharing your favorite books through our Affiliate program.

Become an affiliate

About the Author

Robert Walser (1878-1956) was born into a German-speaking family in Biel, Switzerland. He left school at fourteen and led a wandering, precarious existence while writing poems, novels, and vast numbers of the "prose pieces" that became his hallmark. In 1933 he abandoned writing and entered a sanatorium--where he remained for the rest of his life.

Tom Whalen is a novelist, short-story writer, poet, critic, and the co-editor of the Robert Walser issue of the Review of Contemporary Fiction.

Reviews

"Everyone who reads Walser falls in love with him." --Nicholas Lezard, The Guardian

"Walser shows a delightful disregard for the established boundaries between reader and writer. Sometimes he hardly seems to be writing at all, but rather carrying on a conversation with himself, or simply spilling his thoughts onto paper. . . . His eyes are forever fresh, his mind never weary." --A. M. Kaempf, Los Angeles Review of Books

"[Robert Walser writes] with much softness, dreaminess, freedom, and the moral richness of one of those seemingly unprofitable, lazy days." --Robert Musil

"Walser was a favorite of Kafka, Musil, Mann and Sebald, beloved in part for what Hermann Hesse, another admirer, called the 'pure, sweet and ethereal' music of his prose. His miniatures account for some of the most sublimely joyful writing of the past century." --Sam Sacks, The Wall Street Journal

"[Little Snow Landscape] admirably demonstrates imaginative and artistic continuity in Walser's oeuvre. . . Throughout this collection we find the casually met, the obscure or humdrum endowed with beauty, mystery, timelessness. . . . Walser made of his own multiform solitudes a gift to the outside world, offering readers an existential sympathy of a kind for which only he could find the appropriate literary expression." --Paul Binding, The Times Literary Supplement