{"product_id":"not-art-paperback","title":"Not Art - Paperback","description":"\u003cdiv\u003e\u003cp style=\"text-align: right;\"\u003e\u003ca href=\"https:\/\/reportcopyrightinfringement.com\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"\u003e\u003cb\u003eReport copyright infringement\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/a\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003c\/div\u003e\u003cp\u003eby \u003cb\u003ePeter Esterhazy\u003c\/b\u003e (Author)\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"One of the most interesting and original writers of our time.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e--Mario Vargas Llosa\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e \u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWinner of 2004 Peace Prize--Germany's most prestigious literary honor--Peter Esterhazy, author of the acclaimed \u003cem\u003eCelestial Harmonies, \u003c\/em\u003eoffers us \u003cem\u003eNot Art, \u003c\/em\u003ea uniquely brilliant novelized exploration of his mother's life. Following through on his promise at the conclusion of his famed work, \u003cem\u003eHelping Verbs of the Heart, \u003c\/em\u003eEsterhazy touches on all aspects of life and philosophy relevant to readers today, in an extraordinary novel that centers on a mother's relationship to her son and the game of football. Powerful and original, \u003cem\u003eNot Art \u003c\/em\u003eis a major contribution from one of Europe's most significant writers and perennial contender for the Nobel Prize.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003ch3\u003eFront Jacket\u003c\/h3\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e′I WILL WRITE ABOUT ALL THAT IN MORE DETAIL LATER.′\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e The final sentence of Helping Verbs of the Heart - was it a promise, a threat, a quote? In 1985, when Péter Esterházy′s book came out on unnumbered, black-edged pages, this much-cited sentence seemed most likely to be the manifestation of authorial posturing. After the publication of his books on his father Celestial Harmonies and Revised Edition, this sentence and the preceding book on his mother′s death, broken up into auxiliary verbs, now gain new meaning twenty-three years later in Not Art.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e Not Art is the book of the reawakened mother, a mother who knows the offside rule, and whose language, which determines her relationship to the world, is the language of football. The son only exists in relation to it, just as everything and everyone else only exists in relation to this mother′s football language. Football, in the author′s last book a stage and a medium for private historiography, now acts as a worldview, its roots in his relationship to his mother and his mother tongue: a mother′s language complex. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e Readers seeking ′family stories′ will find them - in subtly written, rounded stories. Those looking for emotions will find them too: platonic love, marital love filled with tenderness, and of course love for his mother and father. And those interested in the esterházyesque auto-reflexive textual world (where does the author begin and end) will not be disappointed either. Irony, beauty, history, the Magnificent Magyars, father, grandmother, aunt, uncle, mother, life and death, especially death, but beautifully written. And life too, of course, which comes before death.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e ′My mother talked her way through the entire sixties and seventies in French. Boy, even comrade sounds bearable in French. She slipped into the French language as if into a bunker. No, a bunker would be more German, concrete protection; language is a lighter form of asylum, if danger were ahead it would provide no protection, a hiding place, a hideout, a wing under which one cannot shelter. Whenever she left French she immediately moved into football. One might say my mother was on the run her whole life long. And one might also say that she was happy her whole life long.′\u003c\/p\u003e--Booklist\u003ch3\u003eBack Jacket\u003c\/h3\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e′I WILL WRITE ABOUT ALL THAT IN MORE DETAIL LATER.′\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e The final sentence of Helping Verbs of the Heart - was it a promise, a threat, a quote? In 1985, when Péter Esterházy′s book came out on unnumbered, black-edged pages, this much-cited sentence seemed most likely to be the manifestation of authorial posturing. After the publication of his books on his father Celestial Harmonies and Revised Edition, this sentence and the preceding book on his mother′s death, broken up into auxiliary verbs, now gain new meaning twenty-three years later in Not Art.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e Not Art is the book of the reawakened mother, a mother who knows the offside rule, and whose language, which determines her relationship to the world, is the language of football. The son only exists in relation to it, just as everything and everyone else only exists in relation to this mother′s football language. Football, in the author′s last book a stage and a medium for private historiography, now acts as a worldview, its roots in his relationship to his mother and his mother tongue: a mother′s language complex. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e Readers seeking ′family stories′ will find them - in subtly written, rounded stories. Those looking for emotions will find them too: platonic love, marital love filled with tenderness, and of course love for his mother and father. And those interested in the esterházyesque auto-reflexive textual world (where does the author begin and end) will not be disappointed either. Irony, beauty, history, the Magnificent Magyars, father, grandmother, aunt, uncle, mother, life and death, especially death, but beautifully written. And life too, of course, which comes before death.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e ′My mother talked her way through the entire sixties and seventies in French. Boy, even comrade sounds bearable in French. She slipped into the French language as if into a bunker. No, a bunker would be more German, concrete protection; language is a lighter form of asylum, if danger were ahead it would provide no protection, a hiding place, a hideout, a wing under which one cannot shelter. Whenever she left French she immediately moved into football. One might say my mother was on the run her whole life long. And one might also say that she was happy her whole life long.′\u003c\/p\u003e\n            \u003cdiv\u003e\n\u003cstrong\u003eNumber of Pages:\u003c\/strong\u003e 240\u003c\/div\u003e\n            \u003cdiv\u003e\n\u003cstrong\u003eDimensions:\u003c\/strong\u003e 0.59 x 7.98 x 5.28 IN\u003c\/div\u003e\n            \u003cdiv\u003e\n\u003cstrong\u003ePublication Date:\u003c\/strong\u003e February 16, 2010\u003c\/div\u003e\n            ","brand":"BooksCloud","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47226979451129,"sku":"9780061792960","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0789\/2782\/3097\/files\/SmVXRlQyQkhSV0pJaVQwZDR4Wmgxdz09.webp?v=1768273814","url":"https:\/\/bookscloud.io\/products\/not-art-paperback","provider":"BooksCloud Book Dropshipping","version":"1.0","type":"link"}