Niederungen

Geschrieben von Herta Müller

Erzählt von Herta Müller, Marlen Diekhoff und Albert Kitzl

Niederungen war Herta Müllers erstes Buch, und doch sofort ein ''mitreißendes literarisches Meisterstück, das zugleich einen weißgrauen Fleck auf der Landkarte erschließt'' (F.C. Delius). In eindringlichen Szenen beschreibt Herta Müller das Leben der deutschsprachigen Banatschwaben im kommunistischen Rumänien. Sie beschreibt es als eine düstere Anti-Idylle in einer Enklave, die von Angst und Hass geprägt ist, von Intoleranz und Unbeweglichkeit. Die dichte, poetische Sprache entwirft ein Dorfleben, das nichts Heimeliges hat, und eine Heimat, die kein Zuhause ist.

• Sprache: Deutsch
• Herausgeber: Hörbuch Hamburg
• Erscheinungsdatum: 15. März 2010
• ISBN: 9783844903232

Herta Müller

Herta Müller is the winner of the 2009 Nobel Prize in Literature, as well as the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award and the European Literature Prize. She is the author of, among other books, The Hunger Angel and The Land of Green Plums. Born in Romania in 1953, Müller lost her job as a teacher and suffered repeated threats after refusing to cooperate with Ceausescu's secret police. She succeeded in emigrating in 1987 and now lives in Berlin.

Rezensionen für Niederungen

[varwenea · Bewertung: 4 von 5 Sternen]

Nadirs is a collection of semi-autobiographical short stories depicting the youth of Herta Muller’s in a Germany speaking region of the Romanian countryside. Facts mixed with fantasy, the author recollects memories of her childhood in short abrupt sentences, somewhat stream of conscientiousness, possibly close to how a child thinks. The fantasy elements at times add confusion as it’s not meant to be literal. At other times, my mind wandered in art mode – surrealism effect (Dali with melting clocks, time melting, lots of death…) or cubism effect (Picasso with jagged edges, harsh livelihood, rain described as glass) or impressionism effect (Monet with florals, a softness in the countryside). Joy is inevitably mixed with gruesomeness; I failed to take in all the words, painting pictures of scenes sometimes best not visualized.All the stories are very short except the title tale, “Nadirs”, which was the most telling of the various elements in her life. Given the setting is vastly different than my own, I find some aspects to be hmm, curious, such as mildew on walls are salty and the goats like to lick them. Is that real? The internet didn’t give me an answer, Lol. The “Village Chronicle” gave a matter of fact account of her surroundings, which I appreciated, while “Workday” was a humorous take on a bad way to start the work day. “Rotten Pears” has the young author on a road trip with father, aunt, and cousin where she hears “Aunt is moaning. Father is panting.” Upon returning home and lying to her mother that everyone slept separately, she then hears “Mother moans. Father pants.” Yikes… With a perpetually drunk father, corporal punishment, images of death, animals galore, and a less than idyllic life, a book like this reminds me my youth didn’t suck so much after all. It is not a book that I would readily recommend to anyone. If you like international (non-U.S., non-Brit) lit and appreciate some darkness in the words, then go for it. Otherwise, stay away. Some quotes:On death:“The pulp is craved out of the pumpkins. Two eyes, a triangular nose and a mouth are cut into the shell. A candle is place in the pumpkin shell… The children are swaying the cut-off heads through the dark. They run into the houses crying… The doctor is much too late. My father’s puked out his liver. There in the bucket it stinks like rotten soil… In the cavity of my father’s head, the candle has duped itself into death.”On animal slaughtering – it’s rather gruesome:“A village full of strange dogs was in our yard. They were licking the blood from the straw of the manure heap and dragging claws and skin scraps across the barn floor. Uncle pulled them from their mouths. They weren’t allowed in the street with them. Two eyes were lying in the liquid manure. The cat bit into one of them with her canine tooth. There was a crack, and bluish slime splattered in her face. She shook herself and walked off with stiff spread-out legs.”On corporal punishment – I grew up with corporal punishment but boy, this is a level up…“Every day at noon, Mother brought warm milk to the kitchen, warm from the cow. I asked her if she would be sad too if they took me away from her, if they were to slaughter me. I fell against the closet door, I had a blue bump on my forehead, I had a swollen upper lip and a purple bruise on my arm. All that from a slap.” And “…when the priest said that lipsticks are made from blood of fleas and other disgusting animals I asked myself why the Madonna at the side altar was using lipstick. I also asked the priest and then he beat my hands sore with his ruler and sent me home immediately. I couldn’t bend my fingers for several days afterward.”On her grandmother’s cast – apparently country living doesn’t mix well with a sparkling white cast:“Grandmother’s cast had gotten dirty with time. The city doctor who had given her this cast had a bloated and very pale face. When he saw Grandmother’s cast his fact go even bigger.On her cast there were a few splashes of cow manure, some traces of green tomato leaves, many blue plum stains and some grease stains. There was a whole summer on her cast…”

[diefledermaus · Bewertung: 4 von 5 Sternen]

Nadirs is a collection of semi-autobiographical short stories depicting life in a German-speaking Romanian community. Müller’s flat, succinct style is enhanced by her vivid, at times graphic, descriptions of people and places and occasional bouts of surrealism. The title story is very powerful but pretty much every story is extremely bleak and depressing. “Nadirs” takes that to new highs (lows?) as every glimmer of hope or pleasure or beauty is paired with violent or unpleasant imagery. For example, the narrator recalls the fun she has playing with a toy mouse, but it comes just after a section describing in graphic detail how their cats would dismember and eat mice. Pumpkin carving brings to mind her father’s death. Any descriptions of nature are juxtaposed with images of rot, decay and death. The story ostensibly describes the narrator’s childhood in a Banat Romanian village but there are some subtle criticisms of the Communist regime – describing how common death is in the cities and the overall mood of hopelessness.Most of the other stories are short and also describe village life. Besides “Nadirs”, the best ones are those with flights of surrealism – “The Funeral Sermon” which describes the narrator’s father’s funeral heightened by its unreality, “About German Mustaches and Hair Parts” – about a friend who returns to the village and finds it unrecognizable, and “Workday” which seems to be a flat, straightforward depiction of a day but everything is completely off. I found Müller’s short and flat style, at times a listing of events or descriptions, to be rather hypnotic but could easily see how many would find it off-putting. Also, the extreme grimness and bleak mood makes it hard to recommend – it might be one more admirable than likeable.

[roblong_1 · Bewertung: 4 von 5 Sternen]

Very good. The stories are fairly plotless, documents of village life rather than 'tales' of any sort. They are brilliantly written, constructed of sparse and oppressively brutal prose. A sense of oppression runs through every line; the regime is hardly ever mentioned but its echoing effect on daily life is total and suffocates everything. This was Muller's first book and later works of hers are more developed in style and subject matter, but I'm glad I read this. And even gladder I didn't live in this time and place, which seems as utterly hopeless as anywhere I've ever read about.

[cecilturtle · Bewertung: 3 von 5 Sternen]

This series of short stories is very poetic and impressionistic. Whereas there are some very powerful images, I found them extremely difficult to read. One must concentrate on the feelings, images and flow of the sentences rather than on the words to build the story - then is it possible to get carried away in this harsh and unique description of the narrator's world. Reminiscent of stream of conscientiousness, the stories are never quite graspable. Although I can appreciate the effect and intent, I personally do not like that style of writing which I find too esoteric.

[hillerm_1 · Bewertung: 5 von 5 Sternen]

"Lord God, heavenly host, deliver us from this exile""The flowers in the vases are such big bouquets that they are thickets, beautiful and in disarray, as if they were lives."I purchased this book, Nadirs (Niederungen), by Herta Müller because our book club was reading her The Land of Green Plums, and a copy was not available. I bought this volume of short stories, hoping that it would get me into her style as preparation for reading the novel. As it was the novel arrived the next day, and I read it in one sitting (Wednesday) and this the next day (Thursday). I was thoroughly taken with both of these volumes. The quotes above are from two stories in Nadirs. The first is a quote from the short story, "Oppressive Tango" which provides a obsessively detailed description of a funeral (although that is not an unusual topic for Müller). The second quote is from another short story in the same volume, "Black Park." Each of them gives you some kind of idea as to the atmosphere of these stories. The are almost "Lamentations" in their effect, and the quote about the bouquets gives a measure of their texture.In these stories, Müller recounts her childhood as an ethnic German (Swabian) living in the Banat region of Romania during the period of Ceaușescu. The perspective is always that of a child, probing, detailed, literal, and dream-like. Likewise all is seen in the microcosm of the village, the xenophobic village in which outsiders literally do not exist. Characters are identified more by their foibles than by their given names, and all is seen through a scrim of spit, grease, fat, mud, piss and shit. In one interesting section, children are asked to take on roles in a game, being either Russian or German. They object, wanting only to be German - and when being given permission to do so divide along Saxon-Swabian lines.There is a heavy dose of fate in these pages. The mothers, fathers, aunts, and children seem not to be able to wrest any kind of freedom around their actions, and function as players assigned a role. Although she does not expressly comment on the Romanian dictator in this volume (there is only one mention that I could find) the influence is certainly there. Then again, this is the village, removed from the city. This is the land of fields, orchards, house gardens, and geese. This is a child's world.This book was of especial interest to me since my cousin's wife, who lives in the Schwartzwald in Baden-Wurttemberg Germany, came from a German colony in Romania. I am anxious to talk with her about this volume and author. I read these stories in one sitting. This is something that I do not recommend that you do. The horror and darkness is blunted by a quick read. These need to be savored.

[kidzdoc_1 · Bewertung: 2 von 5 Sternen]

Nadirs is a collection of short stories and one novella (the title selection) narrated by a child, which is supposedly based on Müller's experiences in the Romanian countryside. The stories are incredibly bleak, and every day is filled with cruelty, pain, hunger and hopelessness. This is a typical excerpt from the novella:A cough shakes Mother's head and sprays spit from her mouth. Her neck gets all wrinkled in the process. It is short and heavy. At one time, I assume, it must have been beautiful, at one time before I existed.Ever since I was born my mother's breasts have been sagging, ever since I was born Mother has had bad legs, ever since I was born Mother has had a drooping belly, ever since I was born Mother has had hemorrhoids and moans in agony in the bathroom.Ever since I was born Mother has talked about my gratitude as a child and started crying and scratching the fingernails of one hand with the fingernails of the other hand. Her fingers are cracked and hard.Only when she counts money are they smooth and limber like spiders spinning a thread.Even though it is a short collection at 119 pages, I couldn't handle 40 pages of this unremitting despair.

[sagustocox · Bewertung: 4 von 5 Sternen]

Nadirs by Herta Muller, who recently won the the Nobel Prize for Literature, is a collection of mostly autobiographical short stories about surviving a communist regime and personal drama. This 120-page work is translated from her native German language, and is one of only a few of her works that have been translated into English. Muller straddles the surreal and reality in her stories, and in some cases this balance is executed better than in others. However, her concise and detailed language paints vivid pictures for readers of harsh conditions and deep sadness and other emotions."In all the pictures, Father was frozen in the middle of a gesture. In all the pictures, Father looked as though he didn't know what to do. But Father always knew what to do. That's why all these pictures were wrong. All those false pictures, all those false faces chilled the room. I wanted to get up from my chair, but my dress was frozen to the wood." (from "The Funeral Sermon," Page 2)In many ways these short stories are more like long, narrative poems filled with imagery, metaphor, and illusion, but there are occasions when Muller clearly outlines what is happening in these families and how it impacts each narrator, who in many cases is a young girl. In "Rotten Pears," the young narrator travels with her father and her aunt to a village to sell their vegetables and fruit, but staying overnight in a strange village reveals dark family secrets and alludes to other possibilities."I walk through the cemetery gate and the bell is in front of my face. The stroke of the bell is under my hair. The stroke is in my pulse next to my eyes and in my weary wrists under the tangled fern. The knot that dangles from the rope of the bell is in my throat." (From "Oppressive Tango," Page 86)With stories ranging from just a few pages to 60 pages or more, Nadirs has something for the quick trip on the subway or the long leisurely moments on the couch, though many of these stories deal with deep sadness and betrayal. Muller also is clearly a poet, economizing her words to create images that will burn into readers minds and remain there for many hours, days, weeks, and months. She uses repetition and juxtapositions of black and white, noise and silence, and other techniques to peak readers' curiosity."Their velvety bulging bellies popped and sprinkled white milk on the floor. Then loathing crawled up on me from my shoes and put its tentacles around my throat, and its hands were gaunt and cold like the hands of the old people I saw in those beds with lids in front of which people would sit in silence and prayer." (From "Nadirs," Page 18)Overall an excellent collection to get a sense of Muller's style, and many of these stories resemble nightmares from a child's point of view. Unfortunately, the short story from which the collection's name is taken was the least engaging and overly surreal. With "Nadirs" being the longest story in the collection, it was tough to get through and ultimately some readers (including me) may give up and skip to other stories in the collection.

[a_musing · Bewertung: 2 von 5 Sternen]

True to its name, this book is filled with low points; indeed, over and over again, when you think there is no place darker to go, Muller finds some tiny bit of light she has left hidden or off to the side and snuffs it out. She is fond of imagery, and the images are piled thickly and laid out in often poetic though somber language. However, all of the images are deeply dark, and she offers little in the way of hope or resolution. It is a mass grave of images. While she writes well, and is most self-consciously literary, this black monotone is difficult reading, and the lack of movement or resolution in the stories, which are more sorts of dreary tableaus than stories, leaves one wondering what the whole point is. It is suffocating among these bodies.Every now and then, she shows a bit of humor, or finds a little bit of levity in a situation. Perhaps even some irony. Oh, leaden, serious irony! What hope in that wry turn of the lips! Perhaps, maybe, we'll see a gleam in the eye next?No, the gleam would require light, and any bit of humor or levity is quickly stamped out, usually through a morose twist into despair, and usually within a sentence or two. The bit of light is not allowed to linger. The bodies are rotting. Pressing down upon us and rotting.I might take some of this as Muller's attempt to indict the communist system she grew up in, which is apparently how most of her reviewers are interpreting her work and certainly is the meme reinfoced by the Nobel committee. More accurately, I might focus on this darkness as a cry against the way the German-language minority was treated in Romania; there's a deep strain of German nationalism in this book. However, Muller herself dispels such thoughts in her first story, which focuses on the relationship of a young German girl (autobiographical?) and the town she lives in with the girl's father, who during the war was a successfully murderous Nazi soldier and after the war was a bully and drunk. No, the dark images are not related only to some abstract communist system or some cry from a suppressed nationalist, they are deeply personal and related to a girl who despises her own rural upbringing and unwitting inheritance. And perhaps even her own existence.I found this to be an unpleasant and uninteresting work. Even as a fan of a book called Nausea, Nadirs was too much. Too dark, too devoid of light. This was her first work, and I am hoping I will find growth and development in the later work, and perhaps see some of whatever it was that won her that Nobel. There is clearly some talent here, but it is buried beneath several yards of obsessively morose soil. And the soil is not rich; it is poor, infertile, rocky.