Zusatztext Cryptic! haunting! and brief. . . . Frequently the narrator begins in delight and wonder . . . and ends in terror! doubt! and confusion. The New Yorker Mahfouz [gives us] a sense of immersion in a mind at the edge of life! a mind returning to its elemental instincts. . . . Mahfouz maintains an unruffled! even humorous voice in the face of these volatile dreamscapes. . . . A fine! surreal filter through which to divine all the elements at play in contemporary Egyptian society. The Seattle Times Informationen zum Autor Naguib Mahfouz was born in Cairo in 1911 and began writing when he was seventeen. His nearly forty novels and hundreds of short stories range from re-imaginings of ancient myths to subtle commentaries on contemporary Egyptian politics and culture. Of his many works, most famous is The Cairo Trilogy, consisting of Palace Walk (1956), Palace of Desire (1957), and Sugar Street (1957), which focuses on a Cairo family through three generations, from 1917 until 1952. In 1988, he was the first writer in Arabic to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. He died in August 2006. . Klappentext In his final years! Egyptian Nobel Laureate Naguib Mahfouz distilled his storyteller's art to its most essential level. Written with the compression and power of dreams! these poetic vignettes! originally collected in two books! The Dreams and Dreams of Departure ! here combined in one volume for the first time. These stories telescope epic tales into tersely haunting miniatures. A man finds his neighborhood has turned into a circus! but his joy turns to anger when he cannot escape it. An obscure writer finally achieves fame-through the epitaph on his grave. A group of friends telling jokes in an alley face the murderous revenge of an ancient Egyptian queen. Figures from Mahfouz's past-women he loved! men who inspired him! even fictional characters from his own novels-float through tales dreamed by a mind too fertile ever to rest! even in sleep. Translated by Raymond Stock Dream 1 I was riding my bicycle from one place to another, driven by hunger, in search of a restaurant fit for my limited means. At each one I found its doors locked, and when my eyes fell on the clock in the square I saw my friend at its foot. He called me over with a wave of his hand, so I headed my bike in his direction. In view of my condition, he suggested that, in order to make my quest easier, I leave my bicycle with him. I followed his suggestion--and my hunger and my search grew even more intense, until I happened upon a family eatery. Propelled by the need for food and by despair, I approached it, though I knew how expensive it was. I saw the owner standing at the entrance before a hanging curtain. What could I do but to throw it open--only to find the place changed into a ruin filled with refuse in place of its grand hall readied with culinary delights. Dismayed, I asked the man, "What's going on?" "Hurry over to the kabab-seller of youth," he answered. "Maybe you can catch him before he shuts down." Not wasting any time, I ran back to the clock in the square--but found neither the bicycle there, nor my friend. Dream 2 We entered the apartment, the girl in the lead and I right behind her, while the doorman carried our bags. The girl and I had a firm relationship--though it was somehow undefined. We had begun to arrange our things when I sauntered onto the balcony overlooking the sea, and became lost in its vague horizons, intoxicated by its broken roar and its humid breeze. Suddenly a scream issued from inside the flat. I scurried toward it to find the girl convulsed in terror as flames licked through the top of the doorway. Before I could recover from the shock, a man with features so hard they seemed cut from stone came in and--with a wave of his hand--pu...

8220;Cryptic, haunting, and brief. . . . Frequently the narrator begins in delight and wonder . . . and ends in terror, doubt, and confusion.” —The New Yorker“Mahfouz [gives us] a sense of immersion in a mind at the edge of life, a mind returning to its elemental instincts. . . . Mahfouz maintains an unruffled, even humorous voice in the face of these volatile dreamscapes. . . . A fine, surreal filter through which to divine all the elements at play in contemporary Egyptian society.” —The Seattle Times

Autorentext

Naguib Mahfouz was born in Cairo in 1911 and began writing when he was seventeen. His nearly forty novels and hundreds of short stories range from re-imaginings of ancient myths to subtle commentaries on contemporary Egyptian politics and culture. Of his many works, most famous is The Cairo Trilogy, consisting of Palace Walk (1956), Palace of Desire (1957), and Sugar Street (1957), which focuses on a Cairo family through three generations, from 1917 until 1952. In 1988, he was the first writer in Arabic to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. He died in August 2006.
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Klappentext

In his final years, Egyptian Nobel Laureate Naguib Mahfouz distilled his storyteller's art to its most essential level. Written with the compression and power of dreams, these poetic vignettes, originally collected in two books, The Dreams and Dreams of Departure, here combined in one volume for the first time.

These stories telescope epic tales into tersely haunting miniatures. A man finds his neighborhood has turned into a circus, but his joy turns to anger when he cannot escape it. An obscure writer finally achieves fame-through the epitaph on his grave. A group of friends telling jokes in an alley face the murderous revenge of an ancient Egyptian queen. Figures from Mahfouz's past-women he loved, men who inspired him, even fictional characters from his own novels-float through tales dreamed by a mind too fertile ever to rest, even in sleep.

Translated by Raymond Stock

Leseprobe

Dream 1

 I was riding my bicycle from one place to another, driven by hunger, in search of a restaurant fit for my limited means. At each one I found its doors locked, and when my eyes fell on the clock in the square I saw my friend at its foot.

 He called me over with a wave of his hand, so I headed my bike in his direction. In view of my condition, he suggested that, in order to make my quest easier, I leave my bicycle with him. I followed his suggestion--and my hunger and my search grew even more intense, until I happened upon a family eatery.

 Propelled by the need for food and by despair, I approached it, though I knew how expensive it was. I saw the owner standing at the entrance before a hanging curtain. What could I do but to throw it open--only to find the place changed into a ruin filled with refuse in place of its grand hall readied with culinary delights. Dismayed, I asked the man, "What's going on?"

 "Hurry over to the kabab-seller of youth," he answered. "Maybe you can catch him before he shuts down."

 Not wasting any time, I ran back to the clock in the square--but found neither the bicycle there, nor my friend.

 Dream 2

 We entered the apartment, the girl in the lead and I right behind her, while the doorman carried our bags. The girl and I had a firm relationship--though it was somehow undefined. We had begun to arrange our things when I sauntered onto the balcony overlooking the sea, and became lost in its vague horizons, intoxicated by its broken roar and its humid breeze.

 Suddenly a scream issued from inside the flat. I scurried toward it to find the girl convulsed in terror as flames licked through the top of the doorway. Before I could recover from the shock, a man with features so hard they seemed cut from stone came in and--with a wave of his hand--put out the fire.

 "Maybe the water service here will be cut off for a while," he said, turning toward us--then went away.

 My mind now at rest, I left my room for the supermarket to bu…