Scardanelli by Friederike Mayröcker

Scardanelli Reviews

• 
  Griffin Alexander

  then all of 1 sudden everything stops the lark daffodil the
  nightingale too which unseeming in the leafy canopy I never saw
  never heard, with red open beaks the darting village-swall-
  ows : they are 80 now they will live long the roseate
  peonies too in the stranger gardens, the siskins root voles common
  moles that live in the grave mounds. Then the language is lost on me :
  gone missing, the moon from which its long since
  wrested its secret, the 1st cherries, the daisies, the poppies, the little
  dogs, hawthorns and night-violets, the burden of my conscience the
  boxlet with the ash of the last relatives all is lost torn
  from my heart deleted no more memories of
  earth : glory world
  (found the friend's umbrella this morning entirely covered in dust
  and bent out of shape in these 8 years since it was forgotten. . )
  "love me love my umbrella", James Joyce
  
  cautious to wink with the eyes (at me) and caress and
  kiss my last poem : the just written and completed very
  last poem and as the tears roll over it that the lines
  dissolve namely 1 chirping that no 1 else will hear etc
• 
  Kyle

  It should be a crime that more of Mayrocker is not translated, and Song Cave should be showered with awards and grants to putting more of her into English. Mayrocker is a wondrous challenge of a reading experience—with her extremely idiosyncratic shorthand and abbreviations and mid-word line breaks, I might make the argument that she is not supposed to be read out loud, but even still the rhythm and the words sound beautiful in the air. Motifs (or maybe leitmotifs, as the case may be) drift in and out of the poems as phrases and images are repeated in a way that makes the poems feel woven together like music. This book, written largely in dedication to the work of Holderlin, and to a variety of Mayrocker's friends (one could make the argument that in here they are characters), is a dizzying class on grief and gratitude—both for being alive, with and without those dear to us. My favorite from the collection, dated 1/16/08:
  
  the forest shadow (that time) yanked
  the heart out of my chest I stumbled over
  the roots of the path toward us 1 beautiful
  wanderer was walking with 1 alpine-hat and 1 flower in his
  hand we glanced at each other but without greeting 1 an-
  other the green finches in the light-green foliage the light
  through the treetops I was happy treading slowly
  on to the right the lake moving somewhat
• 
  Greg Bem

  A beautiful whirlwind of a collection of poetry. Translated from the German, the language is strange and creeping, but also elegant and filled with the tastes of reality. Part pastoral, part soulful inquiry, there is enough to latch onto here that keeps the blood warm and the head hung in respect.
• 
  Charlie

  Mayrocker seems like a legend, but reading this book felt like sticking my head into a raging river and expecting not to be swept away.
• 
  Jared Levine

  These poems while being short and simple, are so very beautiful and evoke a certain tenderness within me. She creates a fresh language that pushed me to the end of each page with subtle turns along the way.
• 
  Awen Eibner

  2,5 Sterne
  
  Mir ist unklar, warum "1" nicht ausgeschrieben wird und statt "ß" "sz", da Mayröcker keine Schweizerin ist, aber ansonsten sind die Gedichte in Ordnung. Recht atmosphärisch, Schwerpunkt auf Pflanzen, Natur und Liebe, und im Gegensatz zu "Jalousien aufgemacht" beziehen sich die einzelnen Worte sogar aufeinander.