I was 14 years old when my dad was imprisoned by the communist police of ex-Yugoslavia. My dad spent his childhood working as a shepherd in a small Macedonian village with 11 inhabitants. Later, he became a poet, and he belonged to the last group of political prisoners in the former Yugoslavia. When my dad was sent to prison, my family and I dealt with great trauma.
How do we master trauma? Some books say that I should repeat what I already did, and other books say that I should choose something new. But this small book explains that both decisions are bad.
This book has taught me that neither repetition nor choosing the new heals. I should choose the recollection over the repetition. I already have all the knowledge I need to overcome it, which is already within me.
'The love of repetition is in truth the only happy love'
So says Constantine Constantius on the first page of Kierkegaard's Repetition. Life itself, according to Kierkegaard's pseudonymous narrator, is a repetition, and in the course of this witty, playful work Constantius explores the nature of love and happiness, the passing of time and the importance of moving forward (and backward). The ironically entitled Philosophical Crumbs pursues the investigation of faith and love and their tense relationship with reason.
Written only a year apart, these two works complement each other and give the reader a unique insight into the breadth…
Why should I read a book written by two neurologists from the end of the 19th century? It is very simple. I love this book because it is the first description and extended explanation of female traumas.
The book answers very important questions. What is trauma? What is an ego? Does normality exist? What is pain? What is shame? What is desire? What is childhood? And the most important question of all, which this book answers, is: Can words heal?
The cornerstone of psychoanalysis,and legacy of the landmark Freud/Breuer collaboration,featuring the classic case of Anna O. and the evolution of the cathartic method, in the definitive Strachey translation. Re-packaged for the contemporary audience with what promises to be an unconventional foreword by Irvin Yalom, the novelist and psychiatrist who imagined Breuer in When Nietzsche Wept .
In an underground coal mine in Northern Germany, over forty scribes who are fluent in different languages have been spared the camps to answer letters to the dead—letters that people were forced to answer before being gassed, assuring relatives that conditions in the camps were good.
Yes, I know. Anyone like me who has taken on to teach Kafka in the university classroom knows that Kafka is not an easy read. However, here is my approach. I accept Kafka as a meditative humorist who can heal trauma.
The listeners laughed unbridled when Kafka read excerpts of his novel at Max Brod’s book club in Prague. If I search for cheap sentimentalism and resentment, I can go elsewhere. I always come back to this book for the heroic quality of humor, which is the best weapon against trauma.
"Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K., he knew he had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested." From its gripping first sentence onward, this novel exemplifies the term ""Kafkaesque." Its darkly humorous narrative recounts a bank clerk's entrapment — based on an undisclosed charge — in a maze of nonsensical rules and bureaucratic roadblocks. Written in 1914 and published posthumously in 1925, Kafka's engrossing parable about the human condition plunges an isolated individual into an impersonal, illogical system. Josef K.'s ordeals raise provocative, ever-relevant issues related to the role of government and the nature of…
I consider this one of the most important books about the 20th century. A document of the suffering of millions of people, with a clear message that people are capable of the most horrible evils, was conducted with the most precise bureaucratic consistency.
In the sense in which Hannah Arendt described evil as already a banal evil. However, this book has a clear catharsis regarding the trauma. The duty of humans is to preserve, nurture, and value the existence of every human, animal, plant, stone, and mineral, with the Earth as our home and the skies as our potential.
Volume 1 of the gripping epic masterpiece, Solzhenitsyn's chilling report of his arrest and interrogation, which exposed to the world the vast bureaucracy of secret police that haunted Soviet society. Features a new foreword by Anne Applebaum.
“The greatest and most powerful single indictment of a political regime ever leveled in modern times.” —George F. Kennan
“It is impossible to name a book that had a greater effect on the political and moral consciousness of the late twentieth century.” —David Remnick, The New Yorker
“Solzhenitsyn’s masterpiece. . . . The Gulag Archipelago…
In an underground coal mine in Northern Germany, over forty scribes who are fluent in different languages have been spared the camps to answer letters to the dead—letters that people were forced to answer before being gassed, assuring relatives that conditions in the camps were good.
During the short walk that entered literary history, Sigmund Freud met Rainer Maria Rilke, a poet who experienced the terror of mortality and felt eerily that everything human is ultimately worthless. Not really, Freud answered.
The mortality of nature and humans–the end of the beloved human face–gives them their ultimate meaning. It is because we know that everything that exists will be gone one day, which is why we cherish them. I read about it for the first time in this book. It is written with a very mild and careful hand, describing all things worthy of living.
Novelist, cultural commentator, memoirist, and historian Eva Hoffman examines our ever-changing perception of time in this inspired addition to the BIG IDEAS/small books series
Time has always been the great given, the element that establishes the governing facts of human fate that cannot be circumvented, deconstructed, or wished away. But these days we are tampering with time in ways that affect how we live, the textures of our experience, and our very sense of what it is to be human. What is the nature of time in our time? Why is it that even as we live longer than ever…
My book starts with a powerful personal story about the author’s father, a prominent Macedonian poet, Jovan Koteski. He was harassed by the Yugoslav communist regime for over 40 years, and he served two years in prison. He was released by the intervention of the American beat poet Allen Ginsberg.
It seems ironic at this point, but there have been very few analyses of the nature of the police state in Eastern Europe during the communist era, and none of Yugoslavia. The book offers an inquiry into communism and what people had to endure in a system of control.
