Bookmarker is a personal project by @dellsystem to help with retaining reading material. Source on GitHub.

Activity

You added a note
1 year, 5 months ago

can't we be like brother and sister?

[...] Katharina goes to Hoyerswerda to prepare for a touring engagement, but when they talk on the telephone that night Hans has already forgotten the name of that “dump” as he calls it. At the Writers’ Congress in November, Christoph Hein called for the abolition of censorship, and it didn’t get h…

—p.153 Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck
You added a note
1 year, 5 months ago

whatever is near starts to slither

[...] Conference in the painting studio, she writes on a different day, and she remembers the conference in question, but also how Vadim lifted up her blouse afterwards in the empty studio and kissed her breasts, because she has still not permitted him to kiss her on the mouth. On that evening Hans…

—p.152 by Jenny Erpenbeck
You added a note
1 year, 5 months ago

what is not written down has not taken place

Katharina writes to Hans: I am only happy when we are together.

And that’s the truth.

She writes in her diary: Worked on the model set with Vadim.

And that also is the truth.

She does not write that in the morning, when she gets in, she always looks out for Vadim’s bicycle. Nor does she…

—p.144 by Jenny Erpenbeck
You added a note
1 year, 5 months ago

the dust that rises from the black boards

In her whole life to date she has never seen anything so beautiful as the dust that rises from the black boards in the limelight when Thoas says goodbye to Iphigenia and her brother Orestes. Now, Katharina stands in the wings and watches a transformation, watching at the same time how the transform…

—p.142 by Jenny Erpenbeck
You added a note
1 year, 5 months ago

is that all that’s left of a thirty-year marriage? for/pq-done topic/heartbreak

Her life. Even when she’s not to pick up the telephone when she’s alone in the apartment, in case it’s Ingrid on the other end. Last Monday, for instance, when Hans was at the ophthalmologist’s, it kept ringing and ringing. And she sat there, pretending not to exist. And for all that: her life. Is …

—p.119 by Jenny Erpenbeck