The Polish Jewish writer Bruno Schulz described Sanatorium Under the Schulz’s first book, The Street of Crocodiles (Cinnamon Shops in the. XXXVI, No. 2, ? The Polish Institute of Arts and Sciences. ANDREAS SCHONLE. CINNAMON SHOPS BY BRUNO SCHULZ: THE APOLOGY. The Street of Crocodiles by Bruno Schulz Lalka by Bolesław Prus Quo Vadis by Cinnamon Shops may suggest: in among the glittering decorations are also, .

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Even in the daytime that room was filled with a cloudlike haze, overflowing sleepily with plaster dreams, empty looks, fading profiles, and musings receding into nothingness. One is how Adela, the maid, is the calm centre of the household who restores balance and order – I was always so glad when she bustled into view – in contrast to the fantastically eccentric parents whose establishment it technically is.

And the house itself, like a labyrinth with unknown number of rooms, where household, especially father is disappearing for whole weeks to emerge unexpectedly another day, cobwebbed and dusted.

The stories are full of symbolism, allusions and surreal dream logic, and I enjoyed the wildest flights of fancy most. Knot by knot, he loosened himself from us; point by point, he gave up the ties joining him to the human community He was breathing heavily, his head bowed. All the stories are connected but disjointed, and Schulz would often spin this reader off into the snow, leaving me spitting slivers of ice from my mouth.

Each day I returned, a storey of our home seem to be re-constructed, by itself, where previously there had only been rubble. Schulz will help you live it.

Drohobych was a particularly brutal place to be in the cauldron of World War II. I didn’t know what to do. Initially, they just nodded in agreement. Its publication in December saw Schulz — a shy, rather awkward schoolteacher — join Stanislaw Witkiewicz and Witold Gombrowicz in the front rank of Polish modernists. At last we came to a standstill.


Not to say anything of four pages of pure pleasure and in the form of a ‘short story’.

One of his eyes would then slightly squint to the outside, as if leaving for another dimension. It was when we listened to everybody’s stories about what they had done that day or in the past. In the middle of the day, when the sun was relatively shining well I was reading a narration of a wintry night from this bruho and at the end of my reading I was fully convinced of the book than the real climate outside of my window!

A machine for converting material into spiritual force. As we manipulate everyday words, we forget that they are fragments of ancient and eternal stories, that we are building our houses with broken pieces of xinnamon and ruined statues of gods.

We quite liked Adela. The task is well nigh impossible. The correct street must lead along the other side of those houses, I thought to myself, where their entrances are. People fled before it in silent panic, but the disease always caught up with them and spre Listen: Retrieved from ” https: Lent wings by my desire to visit the cinnamon shops, I turned into a street that I knew — flying more than walking, anxious not to go the wrong way.

Then I noticed a round, black wound on his belly. By the time he died, infollowing a brief Soviet occupation, the town was part of the Nazis’ Greater Germany.

The Street of Crocodiles

Birds, mannequins and cockroaches gradually are occupying his mind. Paperbackpages. In the silence of the night his ear seemed to grow larger and to reach out beyond the window: His senses of smell and hearing had become inordinately sharpened; and it showed in the agitations of his tense, silent features that he remained, through the mediation of those senses, in continual contact with an invisible world of dark nooks and mouse-holes, musty empty spaces beneath the floor, and chimney ducts.

The air was now easy to breathe, and lit up like a silver gas. There were a couple of stories I could easily have skipped, though I didn’t.


Cinnamon Shops by Bruno Schulz

The young lad, who is our narrator, is of age to be beset by those hormones that make every female seem like the personification of Aphrodite. Jun 24, Inderjit Sanghera rated it it was amazing. When I closed vruno front door behind me, it was already starting to get light. This horse, as a matter of fact, filled me with confidence; he seemed to be smarter than the coachman. But Schulz is not only able to paint a wonderful visual picture again and again; he also has a keen gift for evocation by allusion, as when he describes one of his characters, Charles, meditating: Those truly noble businesses, open shhops into the night, had always been the object of my fervid dreams; their dimly lit, dark and solemn interiors exuded a rich, deep aroma of paints, lacquer, and incense, a fragrance of remot countries and rare materials.

The details of his life are the stuff of legend. The language adopted by Schulz is rich and unique, marked by various eccentric sequences of metaphors.

I didn’t know much else about the subject matter of the book. He usually read the news and politics on Saturday, and the arts pages on Sunday, when he had more time.

All the scratching and noisy nocturnal knocking, all the secrete, creaking life of the floor, found in him an unfailing and vigilant observer, a spy and a sfhulz. Can a person be so simple and at the same time very profound?

The chapters appear as pieces of situations that describe the main characters: It now stood proud above the rubble. The horse, a wise old droshky horse, looked around nonchalantly and continued on his way at a steady, droshky trot.

One Saturday morning, I came cinnampn, went to the bakery, and when I returned, I noticed somebody sitting in the study with a newspaper.