nicarhm's review against another edition
3.5
A collection of pleasant little stories—some much better than others—toying imaginatively with ideas of God and other things, like children do. Some excerpts I particularly enjoyed:
"'Where did you get the story you told me last time?' he begged me then. 'Out of a book?' 'Yes,' I answered sadly, 'the historians have kept it buried there, since it died; that is not so very long ago. Only a hundred years since, it lived—quite carelessly, for sure—on many lips.'" (How Old Timofei Died Singing)
"'I imagine one can never tell whether God is in a story before one has finished it completely. For if only two words of the telling are still missing—indeed, if nothing but the pause after the last word is still outstanding, he may yet come.'" (The Song of Justice)
"'What we feel as spring, God feels as a fleeting little smile passing over the earth. Earth seems to be remembering something; in summer she tells every one about it, until she grows wiser in the great autumnal silence, through which she confides in those who are lonely. All the springs you and I have lived through, put together, still do not suffice to fill a single one of God's seconds. A spring, for God to notice it, may not remain in trees and on the meadows; it must somehow manifest its strength in man, for then it will proceed, as it were, not within time, but rather in eternity and in God's presence.'" (Of One Who Listened to the Stones)
"'The things we experience often cannot be expressed, and any one who insists on telling them nevertheless, is bound to make mistakes.'" (A Story Told to the Dark)
"'Where did you get the story you told me last time?' he begged me then. 'Out of a book?' 'Yes,' I answered sadly, 'the historians have kept it buried there, since it died; that is not so very long ago. Only a hundred years since, it lived—quite carelessly, for sure—on many lips.'" (How Old Timofei Died Singing)
"'I imagine one can never tell whether God is in a story before one has finished it completely. For if only two words of the telling are still missing—indeed, if nothing but the pause after the last word is still outstanding, he may yet come.'" (The Song of Justice)
"'What we feel as spring, God feels as a fleeting little smile passing over the earth. Earth seems to be remembering something; in summer she tells every one about it, until she grows wiser in the great autumnal silence, through which she confides in those who are lonely. All the springs you and I have lived through, put together, still do not suffice to fill a single one of God's seconds. A spring, for God to notice it, may not remain in trees and on the meadows; it must somehow manifest its strength in man, for then it will proceed, as it were, not within time, but rather in eternity and in God's presence.'" (Of One Who Listened to the Stones)
"'The things we experience often cannot be expressed, and any one who insists on telling them nevertheless, is bound to make mistakes.'" (A Story Told to the Dark)
susana82's review against another edition
reflective
slow-paced
3.0
I couldn't engage with this book. Despite being made of short stories, some of them had me so uninterested that I don't even know what happened in them. Others were ok. The writing is simple and nice.
bananaboooo's review against another edition
4.0
Zitat(e):
"Aber gebt nun mal acht: was tun unsere Eltern? Sie gehen mit bösen gekränkten Gesichtern umher, nichts ist ihnen recht, sie schreien und schelten, aber dabei sind sie doch so gleichgültig, und wenn die Welt unterginge, sie würden es kaum bemerken. Sie haben etwas, was sie «Ideale» nennen. Vielleicht ist das auch so eine Art kleine Kinder, die nicht alleine bleiben dürfen und sehr viel Mühe machen; aber dann hätten sie eben uns nicht haben dürfen. Nun, ich denke so, Kinder: daß Eltern uns vernachlässigen, ist traurig, gewiß. Aber wir dürfen es dennoch ertragen, wenn es nicht ein Beweis wäre dafür, daß die Großen überhaupt dumm werden, zurückgehen, wenn man so sagen darf. Wir können ihren Verfall nicht aufhalten; denn wir können den ganzen Tag keinen Einfluß auf sie ausüben, und kommen wir spät aus der Schule nach Haus, wird kein Mensch verlangen, daß wir uns hinsetzen und versuchen, sie für etwas Vernünftiges zu interessieren. Es tut einem auch recht weh, wenn man so unter der Lampe sitzt und die Mutter begreift nicht einmal den pythagoräischen Lehrsatz. (...) So werden die Großen immer dümmer werden (...) Sie ziehen den Hut voreinander, und wenn eine Glatze dabei zum Vorschein kommt, so lachen sie." (69)
"Aber gebt nun mal acht: was tun unsere Eltern? Sie gehen mit bösen gekränkten Gesichtern umher, nichts ist ihnen recht, sie schreien und schelten, aber dabei sind sie doch so gleichgültig, und wenn die Welt unterginge, sie würden es kaum bemerken. Sie haben etwas, was sie «Ideale» nennen. Vielleicht ist das auch so eine Art kleine Kinder, die nicht alleine bleiben dürfen und sehr viel Mühe machen; aber dann hätten sie eben uns nicht haben dürfen. Nun, ich denke so, Kinder: daß Eltern uns vernachlässigen, ist traurig, gewiß. Aber wir dürfen es dennoch ertragen, wenn es nicht ein Beweis wäre dafür, daß die Großen überhaupt dumm werden, zurückgehen, wenn man so sagen darf. Wir können ihren Verfall nicht aufhalten; denn wir können den ganzen Tag keinen Einfluß auf sie ausüben, und kommen wir spät aus der Schule nach Haus, wird kein Mensch verlangen, daß wir uns hinsetzen und versuchen, sie für etwas Vernünftiges zu interessieren. Es tut einem auch recht weh, wenn man so unter der Lampe sitzt und die Mutter begreift nicht einmal den pythagoräischen Lehrsatz. (...) So werden die Großen immer dümmer werden (...) Sie ziehen den Hut voreinander, und wenn eine Glatze dabei zum Vorschein kommt, so lachen sie." (69)
impreader's review against another edition
4.0
Peculiarly mind-cracking and soul-bending, tweaking mystery.
jasminawithab's review against another edition
3.0
how the thimble became god fucked me up for some reason??? im not religious but i find religion fascinating and that story really just hit.
update: ive read more of rilkes work now (stories of god was only my second work at the time) and this is the one that has truly stuck with me. every now and then i think about how the thimble became god and the tale of hands of god.
its one of those books that very quietly seeps into you and i find myself constantly going back to it
gabs_diliegro's review against another edition
4.0
“Strange,” Said the doctor.
“What, Georg?”
“How well you understand life. How you’ve grown up, how young you’ve become.”
“What, Georg?”
“How well you understand life. How you’ve grown up, how young you’ve become.”
blueyorkie's review against another edition
4.0
Here is a text that I fragmented to savour, chapter after chapter. We follow a character who tells stories about the good god. But does it exist? Does he appear in every account?
That's for the reader alone to judge. However, I who do not follow turned towards the religious theory; I found them charming and pushed me to think.
I would reread more times, and that many details that had escaped me will come back to me then.
Good reading :)
That's for the reader alone to judge. However, I who do not follow turned towards the religious theory; I found them charming and pushed me to think.
I would reread more times, and that many details that had escaped me will come back to me then.
Good reading :)