Bøker av Agota Kristof

Agota Kristof's celebrated trilogy of novels exploring the after-effects of trauma and the nature of story-telling in the context of Nazi occupation and Soviet 'liberation' at the end of World War Two.

Above, below, blue heads, thistles. Somebody singing something. I don't care: it's not even pretty. The song is sad, and old, so old.Written immediately before her acclaimed Notebook trilogy and selected by Ágota Kristóf herself, I Don't Care presents the Hungarian master at the height of her game. Harrowing yet delightfully whimsical, these short fictions oscillate between parables, surrealist anecdotes, and stories animated by a realism stripped to the bone. In Kristóf's world, cruelty abounds, but in a way that shifts the reader's gaze to aspects of our shared reality, past and present, that one would not want to be without. The themes of exile and existential alienation are undeniable - as is the force of every sentence, making for extraordinary and essential reading that surprises at every turn.

Here, in English at last, is a collection of Ágota Kristóf's short-sometimes very short-stories, which she selected herself, translated by the peerless Chris Andrews. Written immediately before her masterful trilogy (The Notebook, The Proof, The Third Lie), Kristof's short fictions oscillate between parable, surrealist anecdotes, and stories animated by a realism stripped to the bone, often returning to the theme of exile: the twin impossibilities of returning home and of reconstructing home elsewhere.The world of the book has very hard edges: cruelty is almost omnipresent, peace and consolation are scarce. Austere and minimalist, but with a poetic force that shifts the walls in the reader's mind, Kristof's penetrating short fictions make for extraordinary and essential reading.

Narrated in a series of stark, brief vignettes, The Illiterate is Ágota Kristóf's memoir of her childhood, her escape from Hungary in 1956 with her husband and small child, her early years working in factories in Switzerland, and the writing of her first novel, The Notebook. Few writers can convey so much in so little space. Fierce yet almost pointedly flat and documentarian in tone, Kristóf portrays with a disturbing level of detail and directness an implacable message of loss: first, she is forced to learn Russian as a child (with the Soviet takeover of Hungary, Russian became obligatory at school); next, at age twenty-one, she finds herself required to learn French to survive: I have spoken French for more than thirty years, I have written in French for twenty years, but I still don't know it. I don't speak it without mistakes, and I can only write it with the help of dictionaries, which I frequently consult. It is for this reason that I also call the French language an enemy language. There is a further reason, the most serious of all: this language is killing my mother tongue.

Narrated in a series of brief vignettes, The Illiterate is Kristof 's memoir of her childhood, her escape from Hungary in 1956 with her husband and small child, her early years working in factories in Switzerland, and the writing of her first novel, The Notebook.

The first time her plays have been available in English, the complete collection of Agota Kristof's works for the stage.