Unrecounted (New Directions Paperbook)
W. G. Sebald

Unrecounted (New Directions Paperbook)

$15.95
Unrecounted combines thirty-three of what W. G. Sebald called his "micropoems"--miniatures as unclassifiable as all of his works--with thirty-three exquisitely exact lithographs by one of his oldest friends, the acclaimed artist Jan Peter Tripp.

The lithographs portray, with stunning precision, pairs of eyes--the eyes of Beckett, Borges, Proust Jasper Johns, Francis Bacon, Tripp, Sebald, Sebald's dog Maurice. Brief as haiku, the poems are epiphanic and anti-narrative. What the author calls "time lost, the pain of remembering, and the figure of death" here find a small home. The art and poems do not explain one another, but rather engage in a kind of dialogue. "The longer I look at the pictures of Jan Peter Tripp," Sebald comments in his essay, "the better I understand that behind the illusions of the surface, a dread-inspiring depth is concealed. It is the metaphysical lining of reality, so to speak."
Full Description
Published by: New Directions
Translated by: Michael Hamburger
Illustrated by: Jan Peter Tripp
Pub date: 10/15/2007
Binding type: Paperback
Pages: 109
ISBN: 9780811217262
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  • Description
    Unrecounted combines thirty-three of what W. G. Sebald called his "micropoems"--miniatures as unclassifiable as all of his works--with thirty-three exquisitely exact lithographs by one of his oldest friends, the acclaimed artist Jan Peter Tripp.

    The lithographs portray, with stunning precision, pairs of eyes--the eyes of Beckett, Borges, Proust Jasper Johns, Francis Bacon, Tripp, Sebald, Sebald's dog Maurice. Brief as haiku, the poems are epiphanic and anti-narrative. What the author calls "time lost, the pain of remembering, and the figure of death" here find a small home. The art and poems do not explain one another, but rather engage in a kind of dialogue. "The longer I look at the pictures of Jan Peter Tripp," Sebald comments in his essay, "the better I understand that behind the illusions of the surface, a dread-inspiring depth is concealed. It is the metaphysical lining of reality, so to speak."