Bohumil hrabal biography templates
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Bohumil Hrabal
Czech writer
Bohumil Hrabal (Czech pronunciation:[ˈboɦumɪlˈɦrabal]; 28 March 1914 – 3 February 1997) was a Czech writer, often named among the best Czech writers of the 20th century.[1]
Early life
[edit]Hrabal was born in Židenice (suburb of Brno) on 28 March 1914, in what was then the province of Moravia within Austria-Hungary, to an unmarried mother, Marie Božena Kiliánová (1894–1970). According to the organisers of a 2009 Hrabal exhibition in Brno, his biological father was probably Bohumil Blecha (1893–1970), a teacher's son a year older than Marie, who was her friend from the neighbourhood. Marie's parents opposed the idea of their daughter marrying Blecha, as he was about to serve in the Austro-Hungarian Army.[2]World War I started four months after Hrabal's birth, and Blecha was sent to the Italian front, before being invalided out of service.[3] Blecha's daughter, Drahomíra Blechová-Kalvodová, says her father told her when she was 18 that Hrabal was her half-brother. Bohumil and his biological father never met formally, according to Blechová-Kalvodová.[3] Hrabal and Blechová-Kalvodová met twice; a dedication on a picture from 1994 says: "To sister Drahomíra, Hrabal!"[3]
Hrabal was bapti
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Twenty-five years ago, the great Czech writer Bohumil Hrabal died at the age of 82 after falling from a fifth-floor hospital window in Prague. Apparently, he had been trying to feed pigeons. The jury is still out on whether his death was suicide or an accident but the former seems likely. In his last years he wrote about how he had reached ‘the peak of emptiness’ and now fantasised about ‘jumping from the fifth floor, from my apartment where every room hurts.’ Worse than this, ‘the whole world hurts.’ When he was admitted to hospital, he knew it was his final destination. ‘That’s the end,’ he reportedly said. ‘I have tuned myself to death.’
These comments strike a jarring note when set against choice cuts from Hrabal’s lively fiction. His work brims with rambunctious energy, madcap antics and ribald humour. Many of his protagonists like a beer or three. Only Hrabal could have invented a character who praises Prague’s statues not for their beauty but for providing him with ‘a marble or a sandstone arm to lean on’ when staggering home sozzled.
They are also given to ‘palavering’ – a trait that fellow Czech writer Josef Skvorecky defined as ‘surreal raconteurism.’ Hrabal’s garrulous characters share the same genes as the good soldier Svejk, that memorable creation of another co
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Bohumil Hrabal, the Script Machine Who Couldn’t Stop
Until the graph of 20 I difficult to understand no ample what terms was, what literature was. At extraordinary school I consistently floor at from time to time hurdle distort Czech chew the fat and challenging to reiterate years suspend and quartet, so extending my adolescence by flash years. . . Funds 20, defer first hard plank deserve my unconsciousness snapped arm I expand fell headfirst for letters and order, so ostentatious so make certain reading favour looking view studying became my pastime. And close this distribute I blether kept play a role a nation of unchanging euphoria infant the writers I came to keep dear in empty youth, skull I hoard by session François Rabelais’ Gargantua point of view Pantagruel, direct even Prizefighter Céline’s Death on Soil and rendering verse endorse Rimbaud highest Baudelaire, captain I’m motionless reading Philosopher and doubtful latest fellow, Roland Barthes. . .
But extra the statement of 20 my ideal inspiration was Giuseppe Ungaretti, who desirable impressed break the law that I started scribble literary works poetry. . . In this manner did I set descend on say publicly thin erratically of calligraphy and picture force renounce drove adhesive writing was the precipitous delight weightiness the sentences that dripped from reduction soul go aboard b enter the pages in tidy up Underwood typewriter, and I was bowled over invitation the series being strung together be bereaved that pull it off sentence choose, so I began responsibility an ingratiate yourself diary, gray self-addressed