#Fleur Jaeggy

[lunamarish]

Non so più distinguere tra la collera che mi possiede e la pace che mi sono imposta.

Fleur Jaeggy

[rosebriding]

fleur jaeggy, sweet days of discipline

[yourdearestenemyluke]

I Am the Brother of XX by Fleur Jaeggy // the sorrow festival by erin slaughter// Monster Movie by Nicola Maye Goldberg // Unicorn by Angela Carter // History of my brief body, Billy-Ray Belcourt // Lucerys Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen, House of the dragon

[watermotif]

[...] But if you don't think in terms of masculine and feminine, perhaps there's no difference for you?

Not really, no. How difficult interviews are! In life, I'm rather mute. I respond very little. I'm mostly nothing, you see? I write, I continue to write. I have a beautiful typewriter.

[...] In general, does it take you a long time to write?

I don't know. I hardly write at all anymore. I have to think back to the time when I wrote. When it happens, it's like a little story of consumption. I sit there, for hours, before the typewriter. I look outside. I look inside me. And nothing comes out. For months, sometimes even for years. The more time passes, the more I think I have no existence.

— The New Yorker, Fleur Jaeggy Thinks Nothing of Herself

[obsessioncollector]

... We saw life pass by beneath our windows, observed it in books and on our walks, watched the seasons change. It was always a reflection, a reflection that seemed to freeze on our windowsills. 

Fleur Jaeggy, Sweet Days of Discipline, trans. Tim Parks

[virgin-martyr]

After that we became inseparable. Like an illness. 

Fleur Jaeggy, excerpt from "Agnes" of I Am the Brother of XX

[frammento]

Sapevo che Frédérique non avrebbe scritto. Mi perseveravo nel piacere dell’andare in fondo alla tristezza, come a un dispetto. Il piacere del disappunto. Non mi era nuovo. Lo apprezzavo da quando avevo otto anni, interna nel primo collegio, religioso. E forse furono gli anni più belli, pensavo. Gli anni del castigo. Vi è come un’esaltazione, leggera ma costante, negli anni del castigo, nei beati anni del castigo.

Fleur Jaeggy, I beati anni del castigo

[tenderflint]

has anyone in this bar read sweet days of discipline

[theunbearablelightnessofbein]

Adieu, un suono breve e morigerato. Gli addii hanno lontane progeniture e i paesaggi li coprono di sterpaglia e polvere.

[aschenblumen]

¿Quién era? Para mí no era nadie, y sin embargo tengo presentes su fisonomía y su cuerpo. Tal vez aquellos a los que no prestamos atención resurgen por un extraño juego maligno. Sus facciones se nos quedan más grabadas que las de aquellos que hemos tenido en cuenta. Nuestra mente es una serie de nichos. Nuestros nadies acuden a la llamada, criaturas voraces se yerguen a veces como buitres en las fisonomías de los que hemos amado. Una multitud de rostros habita en los nichos, rico alimento. La muchacha alemana, mientras escribo, dibuja, como en una comisaría de policía, sus rasgos. ¿Cuál es su nombre? Su nombre ha desaparecido. Pero no basta con olvidar un nombre para olvidar al ser. Todo está allí, en el nicho.

—Fleur Jaeggy, Los hermosos años del castigo. Traducción de Juana Bignozzi.

[lunamarish]

Ciò che è ingigantito mi offusca la memoria, ciò che è piccolo può assorbire tutte le dimensioni. Quasi un gioco di pulci. E in questo gioco osserviamo l'andamento dei nostri giorni.

Fleur Jaeggy, L'angelo custode

[mosscollector]

But I persevered in the pleasure of taking my sadness to the limit, the way one does with some practical joke. The pleasure of disappointment.

Fleur Jaeggy, Sweet Days of Discipline

[elena-ferrante]

[ninjavolador]

Fleur Jaeggy

[obsessioncollector]

... I still thought that to get something you had to go straight for your goal, whereas it is only distractions, uncertainty, distance that bring us closer to our targets, and then it is the target which strikes us. 

Fleur Jaeggy, Sweet Days of Discipline, trans. Tim Parks

[virgin-martyr]

I had a passion for sleep. For those twelve hours of absolute immobility. For those twelve hours of absolute distance from the world. Twelve hours of gentle, o so sweet burial. My body does not dream. It is not there.

Fleur Jaeggy, excerpt from "I Am the Brother of XX" of I Am the Brother of XX