Radical Shadows collects misplaced, forgotten, suppressed, infrequent, or unknown works by means of significant literary writers from the overdue 19th century ahead. From formerly unpublished paintings by means of Djuna Barnes and Truman Capote (his earliest identified story), to writing through Chekhov, Dostoevsky, Kawabata, Musil, and different world-class authors, the problem is a party either one of the artwork of translation and of the breadth and intensity of the various revelatory discoveries which could nonetheless be present in the historic literary archive.
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Extra info for Radical Shadows: Previously Untranslated and Unpublished Works by Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Masters (Conjunctions)
We do not know whether the cart on which Ronsin rode to the guillotine was the hearse of freedom or not, but we do know that since that day Chalier’s murderers again walk the earth as if there were no grave for them. Have you forgotten that Lyons is a blot on French soil, which we must cover with the bones of traitors? Have you forgotten that this whore of kings3 can only wash away her leprosy in the waters of the Rhone? Have you forgotten that this revolutionary torrent must make Pitt’s M editerranean fleets run aground upon the corpses of the aristocrats?
The room’s so empty, the windows are open, as if a dead man had been lying here. I can’t stand it up here. ) 4 Open field. Danton. I won’t go on. I don’t like to break this silence with my clattering footsteps and my panting breath. (H e sits. ) I’ve heard of a sickness that makes one lose one’s memory. Death, they say, is like that. Then I hope sometimes that death would be even stronger and make one lose everything. If only that were so! Then I’d run like a Christian to save my enemy— that is, my memory.
Danton. Dreaming? Yes, I was dreaming— but it was different— I’ll tell you right away, my poor head is weak— right away! There— now I’ve got it! Beneath me the globe was panting in its flight, I had seized it like a wild horse, with 54 immense limbs I rooted in its mane and pressed its ribs, with my head bent down, my hair streaming out over the abyss. I was being dragged along. I screamed in fear and awoke. I went to the window— and that’s when I heard it, Julie. What does that word want from me?