G. K. Chesterton, André Brink
Der englische Schriftsteller Gilbert Keith Chesterton wurde am 29. Mai 1874 als Sohn eines Häusermaklers in London geboren. Am King’s College London hörte er Vorlesungen über Literatur. Der aus einer unitarischen Familie stammende Chesterton wurde nach einer schweren inneren Krise praktizierender Anglikaner. Ab 1896 arbeitete er als Journalist für liberale Zeitungen. Von 1899 bis 1901 bekämpfte der Antiimperialist Chesterton Englands Krieg gegen die Buren in Südafrika. 1900 schloß er lebenslange Freundschaft mit Hilaire Belloc, dessen Romane er illustrierte. 1901 heiratete er Frances Blogg. Ab 1909 wohnte das kinderlose Paar in Beaconsfield. 1903-1904 hatte er eine öffentliche Auseinandersetzung mit dem Atheisten Blatchford. Auch gegen andere Freidenker verteidigte er das Christentum. 1922 ließ er sich in die röm.-kath. Kirche aufnehmen. 1925 bis 1936 gab er das Wochenblatt »G.K.\'s Weekly« heraus, für das er regelmäßig lange Leitartikel schrieb, oft auch Karikaturen zeichnete. Mit G.B. Shaw führte er öffentliche Streitgespräche. Von 1900 an veröffentlichte Chesterton mehr als hundert Bücher. Außer seinen Detektivgeschichten (überwiegend mit Father Brown) schrieb er Essays, Bücher zur Verteidigung des Christentums, phantastischen Romane und literaturkritischen Arbeiten sowie Biographien, Gedichte und Bühnenstücke.
Aus: Father Brown. The Essential Tales
“Between the silver ribbon of morning and the green glittering ribbon of sea, the boat touched Harwich and let loose a swarm of folk like flies, among whom the man we must follow was by no means conspicuous—nor wished to be. There was nothing notable about him, except a slight contrast between the holiday gaiety of his clothes and the official gravity of his face. His clothes included a slight, pale grey jacket, a white waistcoat, and a silver straw hat with a grey-blue ribbon. His lean face was dark by contrast, and ended in a curt black beard that looked Spanish and suggested an Elizabethan ruff. He was smoking a cigarette with the seriousness of an idler. There was nothing about him to indicate the fact that the grey jacket covered a loaded revolver, that the white waistcoat covered a police card, or that the straw hat covered one of the most powerful intellects in Europe. For this was Valentin himself, the head of the Paris police and the most famous investigator of the world; and he was coming from Brussels to London to make the greatest arrest of the century.
Flambeau was in England. The police of three countries had tracked the great criminal at last from Ghent to Brussels, from Brussels to the Hook of Holland; and it was conjectured that he would take some advantage of the unfamiliarity and confusion of the Eucharistic Congress, then taking place in London. Probably he would travel as some minor clerk or secretary connected with it; but, of course, Valentin could not be certain; nobody could be certain about Flambeau.
It is many years now since this colossus of crime suddenly ceased, keeping the world in a turmoil; and when he ceased, as they said after the death of Roland, there was a great quiet upon the earth. But in his best days (I mean, of course, his worst) Flambeau was a figure as statuesque and international as the Kaiser. Almost every morning the daily paper announced that he had escaped the consequences of one extraordinary crime by committing another. He was a Gascon of gigantic stature and bodily daring; and the wildest tales were told of his outbursts of athletic humour; how he turned the juge d’instruction upside down and stood him on his head, “to clear his mind”; how he ran down the Rue de Rivoli with a policeman under each arm.“
G. K. Chesterton (29. Mai 1874 – 14. Juli 1936)
Der südafrikanische Schriftsteller André Philippus Brink wurde am 29. Mai 1935 in Vrede, Vrystaat, geboren. Er ist einer der wenigen afrikaanssprachigen Autoren, die international Beachtung finden (siehe auch Breyten Breytenbach). Nachdem sein Roman Kennis van die Aand (1973) als erster afrikaanser Text in Südafrika mit einem Bann belegt (d.h. verboten) wurde, begann Brink bilingual (afrikaans und englisch) zu arbeiten. Heute erscheinen seine Romane gleichzeitig in beiden Sprachen. Brink wurde mehrfach für den Booker Prize nominiert und war mehrfach für den Nobelpreis für Literatur im Gespräch. Er ist Honorarprofessor am Department of English Language and Literature der Universität Kapstadt.
Aus: Surprise Visit
“There is no one at the reception desk to welcome him. This suits him perfectly. One can only assess the standard of care-giving in an old-age home if they aren’t alerted to your coming. Even more important is that he wants to surprise her. He has something to tell her, something he has spent a lifetime looking for and which he must share with her. It is now almost two years since his last visit. One doesn’t feel good about these long intervals, but what else can one do? Princeton is not exactly round the corner from Cape Town. And, anyway, his sister Jolene is living right here in the city, close by, in Claremont, and since her husband’s death she hasn’t had much to occupy her. In any case, it isn’t as if Mum is really aware of what is going on around her. For at least three years now, since the last stroke, she has just been lying here. Waiting. For ‐ well. Still has some lucid moments, says Jolene, but fewer and further between. Hardly ever recognises anybody.
He goes through the reception area to the corridor, where he quickly makes sure that nobody is approaching from either end. Then, following Jolene’s instructions, he turns right. The last time he visited her was with his family, just before they left the country. Her room was to the left then, three doors down. But the home likes to shift them around. A change of scenery? Hardly. His own feeling is that the old people ‐ Mum, undoubtedly ‐ find these shifts deeply distressing. Every time it becomes a radical displacement. As bad as those moves in his youth, from one town to the next, as the bank authorities in their wisdom transferred them across the map of the country. Every time a new school, new friends, new teachers, new everything.”
André Brink (Vrede, 29. Mai 1935)
Aus: Father Brown. The Essential Tales
“Between the silver ribbon of morning and the green glittering ribbon of sea, the boat touched Harwich and let loose a swarm of folk like flies, among whom the man we must follow was by no means conspicuous—nor wished to be. There was nothing notable about him, except a slight contrast between the holiday gaiety of his clothes and the official gravity of his face. His clothes included a slight, pale grey jacket, a white waistcoat, and a silver straw hat with a grey-blue ribbon. His lean face was dark by contrast, and ended in a curt black beard that looked Spanish and suggested an Elizabethan ruff. He was smoking a cigarette with the seriousness of an idler. There was nothing about him to indicate the fact that the grey jacket covered a loaded revolver, that the white waistcoat covered a police card, or that the straw hat covered one of the most powerful intellects in Europe. For this was Valentin himself, the head of the Paris police and the most famous investigator of the world; and he was coming from Brussels to London to make the greatest arrest of the century.
Flambeau was in England. The police of three countries had tracked the great criminal at last from Ghent to Brussels, from Brussels to the Hook of Holland; and it was conjectured that he would take some advantage of the unfamiliarity and confusion of the Eucharistic Congress, then taking place in London. Probably he would travel as some minor clerk or secretary connected with it; but, of course, Valentin could not be certain; nobody could be certain about Flambeau.
It is many years now since this colossus of crime suddenly ceased, keeping the world in a turmoil; and when he ceased, as they said after the death of Roland, there was a great quiet upon the earth. But in his best days (I mean, of course, his worst) Flambeau was a figure as statuesque and international as the Kaiser. Almost every morning the daily paper announced that he had escaped the consequences of one extraordinary crime by committing another. He was a Gascon of gigantic stature and bodily daring; and the wildest tales were told of his outbursts of athletic humour; how he turned the juge d’instruction upside down and stood him on his head, “to clear his mind”; how he ran down the Rue de Rivoli with a policeman under each arm.“
G. K. Chesterton (29. Mai 1874 – 14. Juli 1936)
Der südafrikanische Schriftsteller André Philippus Brink wurde am 29. Mai 1935 in Vrede, Vrystaat, geboren. Er ist einer der wenigen afrikaanssprachigen Autoren, die international Beachtung finden (siehe auch Breyten Breytenbach). Nachdem sein Roman Kennis van die Aand (1973) als erster afrikaanser Text in Südafrika mit einem Bann belegt (d.h. verboten) wurde, begann Brink bilingual (afrikaans und englisch) zu arbeiten. Heute erscheinen seine Romane gleichzeitig in beiden Sprachen. Brink wurde mehrfach für den Booker Prize nominiert und war mehrfach für den Nobelpreis für Literatur im Gespräch. Er ist Honorarprofessor am Department of English Language and Literature der Universität Kapstadt.
Aus: Surprise Visit
“There is no one at the reception desk to welcome him. This suits him perfectly. One can only assess the standard of care-giving in an old-age home if they aren’t alerted to your coming. Even more important is that he wants to surprise her. He has something to tell her, something he has spent a lifetime looking for and which he must share with her. It is now almost two years since his last visit. One doesn’t feel good about these long intervals, but what else can one do? Princeton is not exactly round the corner from Cape Town. And, anyway, his sister Jolene is living right here in the city, close by, in Claremont, and since her husband’s death she hasn’t had much to occupy her. In any case, it isn’t as if Mum is really aware of what is going on around her. For at least three years now, since the last stroke, she has just been lying here. Waiting. For ‐ well. Still has some lucid moments, says Jolene, but fewer and further between. Hardly ever recognises anybody.
He goes through the reception area to the corridor, where he quickly makes sure that nobody is approaching from either end. Then, following Jolene’s instructions, he turns right. The last time he visited her was with his family, just before they left the country. Her room was to the left then, three doors down. But the home likes to shift them around. A change of scenery? Hardly. His own feeling is that the old people ‐ Mum, undoubtedly ‐ find these shifts deeply distressing. Every time it becomes a radical displacement. As bad as those moves in his youth, from one town to the next, as the bank authorities in their wisdom transferred them across the map of the country. Every time a new school, new friends, new teachers, new everything.”
André Brink (Vrede, 29. Mai 1935)
froumen - 29. Mai, 18:35
