Born in Berlin at the end of the nineteenth century, Walter Mehring inherited both his father’s respect for the civilizing power of literature and his formidable library of thousands of books. Like his father, believed that books and reading were essential to progress, mutual understanding, and contentment. After having served in World War I, Mehring spent the years betwe
Born in Berlin at the end of the nineteenth century, Walter Mehring inherited both his father’s respect for the civilizing power of literature and his formidable library of thousands of books. Like his father, believed that books and reading were essential to progress, mutual understanding, and contentment. After having served in World War I, Mehring spent the years between the world wars as part of the exhilarating avant-garde coffeehouse culture of Europe’s capitals; he himself was a poet, cabaret lyricist, and founder of the Dadaist movement in Berlin. But with the rise of fascism, Europe became a dangerous place for free-thinking artists. Mehring never envisioned that the culture of books celebrated in his father’s library would be rejected by the sudden rise to prominence of the Nationalist Socialist Party. Soon, even his own books were burned by the Brownshirts and Mehring was forced to roam Europe as a literary fugitive. From a precarious exile in Vienna, he arranged for his father’s books to be smuggled out of Germany, but their fate would be worse than his—while Mehring managed to slip out of Austria and avoid capture, his library was confiscated and destroyed by the Nazis in 1938. In The Lost Library: The Autobiography of a Culture, translated by Richard and Clara Winston and presented in paperback for the first time, Mehring takes the reader with him as he unpacks the crates of books in his mind, and in the process recalls what each book meant to him and his father. Writing with wit and insight, Mehring successfully compares the humanism of his father’s era with the chaos of Europe at war, using his father’s library as a metaphor for how the optimism of nineteenth-century progress gave way to the disorder and book-burning of the twentieth.Times Literary Supplement
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Hardcover
,
290 pages
Published
1951
by The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc, Indianapolis
“A man can become addicted to reading as to any other intoxicant.” After Walter Mehring’s father dies in his arms he inherits a library containing thousands of volumes and his father’s love of literature.
Merhing tells the tale of burning his own books, his interment by the Nazi’s and his eventual exile to Vienna. I have always been interested in this time period and to read a first account which was not focused just on the Holocaust was a treat. Mehring goes through many “jaunts” and describes s
“A man can become addicted to reading as to any other intoxicant.” After Walter Mehring’s father dies in his arms he inherits a library containing thousands of volumes and his father’s love of literature.
Merhing tells the tale of burning his own books, his interment by the Nazi’s and his eventual exile to Vienna. I have always been interested in this time period and to read a first account which was not focused just on the Holocaust was a treat. Mehring goes through many “jaunts” and describes second hand book stores with such alliterations I feel like I am there.
After reading this book I feel I have found a comrade in arms as Mehring and I have the same philosophy. I am addicted to reading.
Walter Mehring kontrastiert die verlorene Bibliothek des Vaters, die dem Idela der Aufklärung verpflichtet war mit seinen eigenen avantgardistischen Bestrebungen. Beides, Aufklärung und Avantgarde, konnten den Nazis nichts entgegensetzen. Es belibt die Beschreibung einer Kultur und einer Bibliothek, die nach der Barbarei des Nationalsozialismus nicht mehr existieren.
“Man kann Lesen so gesundheitsschädlich verfallen wie jedem anderen Rauschmittel, besonders als Europäer, der ja durch lange erbliche Belastung im gleichen Prozentsatz alkohol- wie büchersüchtig ist.
Man greift zum Buche wie zum Glas, um sich über die deprimierende Nüchternheit der Zeitungssensationen hinwegzutrinken, um den widerlichen Nachgeschmack der Medizinen, die man uns in den Spitälern der Zwangs-Heilversuche eingibt, herunter zu spülen. Und nichts hilft so wie ein süffiges Getränk, - wie Genuß von abgelagerten Pathos, vorzüglich in Versen konzentriert, um sich gleich edler und erhabener zu fühlen. Doch hält man sich nicht lange an die guten, erlesenen Jahrgänge. Und beim Lesen wie beim Trinken steigert man allzu rasch den Spiritusgehalt; man sucht nach Selbstbekräftigung und zugleich nach genereller Absolution. Abnorme Gelüste, wie einer krankhaften Veranlagung geschämt hatte, findet man bei erhabensten Genies im Schaffensrausche ausplaudert.”
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“Ja, es erweist sich, dass gerade die Reformatoren, die Weltumstürzler, die geborenen Führernaturen, gerade jene, die erst mal alle zeitgenössischen Druckerzeugnisse zensieren, verbieten, verbrennen lassen, von Lektüre durch und durch vergiftet sind, dass sie sich am vulgärsten Fusel eines Drako, Jean Bodin, Hobbes usw. ihren Fanatismus angelesen haben und im Katzenjammer ihre mörderischen Beglückungen verüben.”
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