Kubin, Alfred. Munchen und Leipzig: Georg Muller, Octavo, pp. First edition.
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Enlarge cover. Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Details if other :. Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. The Other Side by Alfred Kubin ,. Mike Mitchell Translator.
The Other Side tells of a dream kingdom which becomes a nightmare, of a journey to Perle, a mysterious city created deep in Asia, which is also a journey to the depths of the subconscious. Or as Kubin himself called it, 'a sort of Baedeker for those lands which are half known to us'.
Alfred Kubin was one of the major graphic artists of the 20th century who was w The Other Side tells of a dream kingdom which becomes a nightmare, of a journey to Perle, a mysterious city created deep in Asia, which is also a journey to the depths of the subconscious. Alfred Kubin was one of the major graphic artists of the 20th century who was widely known for his illustrations of writers of the fantastic such as Balzac, E.
In his combination of the darkly decadent, the fantastic and the grotesque, in his evocations of dream and nightmare, his creation of an atmosphere of mystery and fear he resembles Mervyn Peake. Get A Copy. Paperback , pages. Published July 27th by Dedalus first published More Details Original Title.
Other Editions Friend Reviews. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about The Other Side , please sign up. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Average rating 3. Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Start your review of The Other Side. May 14, Mariel rated it liked it Recommends it for: brown grass both sides.
Recommended to Mariel by: spinning in the shadows of immoral magnets. I don't know if I really liked this or not. It pretty much bored me to the backs of my eyeballs and then showed me what those dangly nerves looked like in my pasty white hand. I started reading The Other Side weeks ago. Forcing myself to finish reading it today pretty much made me want to cry in a violent revolt. Mariel people rise up against their oppressors! We mental people come from all corners of this wide mental land in peace.
Please, it shouldn't be this hard. That's what the spokesperson I don't know if I really liked this or not. That's what the spokesperson said but they killed the messenger. You know how "They" always is in these suffocating scenarios. Pardon me, I haven't been sleeping much at all and I am coming from invisible germs on sweaty palms and stomach numbing nerves. The Other Side didn't fucking help one little bit.
The doctor didn't say to read this so it's not really his fault. The nurse was a fucking bitch, though, and I'm sure she would have made some mouth noise I could have construed as an invader from the evil mental lands across the gray mass seas.
There's a letter delivered across bureaucratic lines of remember when we were lads in framed portraits destined to sit on some doily covered dresser to remind the housekeeper that someone once swaddled us in doily-like baby clothes? Remember when the administration head counted our just on time mustachioed and arpeggios? Come on, it's me! So I've got this "Dream land" that is pretty much my own country and shit. You can come live here.
Mariel went into a lawyer coma over this reading of the will style part and didn't wake up until after the waaaaay more boring than the extensive train travel part of Christopher Priest's The Prestige that was kind of interesting in the way of a guy who could make a home out of not being home, and falling love with moving tracks off the rails of those obstructed by Ben Franklin's kite sky writing.
If I don't remember what the hell happened at any time in my life between this part of the book and today it isn't my fault. I lost it with the missing luggage. If I was one of the kids who fucked up on the first hour of my visit to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory I might feel like this. The Dream Land is a paper cut kind of festering.
Shit, if they want shitty neighbors I can give them shitty neighbors. So the old lady who would cross the street to avoid the pointing finger lady from The Princess Bride y'know, the one who calls Princess Buttercup on her unfaithfulness complains about noises at uncomfortable hours of the day.
I used to live on a floor above the "hospice apartment". They are dying of cancer and you still don't have a whirring noise at three a. It still sucks when they try to come inside. Where's the community, other than some grumbling about coughs not other worldly people stuff?
Patera hovers over with the promise of his invitation. Come on, I invited you, man! Money won't protect you. You know that other land place where missing socks go? That's where Clay Davis' empty pockets turn up. My money too. The artist with his burned out bulb of worldly and dreamy wonder is returned to sender. Did you forget to put on the address? The Dream Land was like that, to me.
Like not going anywhere. The bitchy nurse says some shit now about how that was the point, Europe after WWI, blah blah blah. Haven't you done enough for today? Crush my soul with your regulation shoe later. Patera's head floats higher and higher. It is emptier than a kite from the dullest kid at the candy factory and the skies are black of currents. I don't understand making him the great and powerful Oz. Wife, gone. People, never there. Artist, abandoned. I don't even know if I'm asleep.
I didn't care about Patera at all. Moving there at his behest made no kind of gut sense to me. The stethoscope has got nothing.
I took a look at what other reviews said. Blah blah blah Jung and the collective subconscious. I don't want to think too hard to come up with this means this or this means that. You'll make me cry, I swear. I didn't care. That's what happened. Blah blah blah Kubin was a pessimist and tortured small animals in his youth I thought that was a serial killer sign but what do I know?
Blah blah blah he was an artist and The Other Side was his only novel. The German may be perfect for all I know.
The Other Side
Bild: Verlag. Man bezweifelt nicht, dass es ernst um den jungen Kubin stand. Als er am Kubin, ein eruptiv arbeitender Mensch, will diesen Roman, als das Zeichnen einmal nicht klappte, in nur acht Wochen abgeworfen haben, die Bilder dazu in weiteren vier. Aber wo kein Fortschritt, da kein Ziel. Kleider verschimmeln, Ameisen pulverisieren die Mauern. Hoffmann oder Edgar Allan Poe hat er unter vielem anderen illustriert; Schopenhauer und Nietzsche quasi inhaliert.
L. W. Currey, Inc.
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