Timur Vermes' record-breaking bestseller, Look Who's Back, is a satirical novel Look Who's Back by Timur Vermes Free PDF d0wnl0ad, audio books, books to. caite.info: Look Who's Back (): Timur Vermes, Jamie Bulloch: Books. Look Who's Back stunned and then thrilled million German readers with its fearless approach to the most taboo of subjects. Naive yet insightful, repellent yet .
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Look Who's Back, First Chapter - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online for free. Look Who's Back is a cutting satire on modern. HE'S BACK AND HE'S FUHRIOUS! "Desperately funny An ingenious comedy of errors." --Janet Maslin, The New York Times "Satire at its. A million-copy bestseller in Germany, Timur Vermes's fantasia Look Who's Back scoots blithely around a fathomless abyss of bad taste. Look Who's Back: caite.info: Timur Vermes, Jamie Bulloch: Fremdsprachige Bücher. Look Who's Back by Timur Vermes, Jamie Bulloch,
Sawatski as the beta male weakling protagonist of the film weakened its point. I suggest you take a lie down, pal. Regardless, for this present moment, it's a work I recommend for everyone. But now it seemed as if during my absence someone Dnitz, I imagine had convinced the Turk to lend us his support. Er ist wieder da [Alemania] [Blu-ray]. And then burned to cinders. I also didn't like the ending.
Thanks to years of iron discipline, I can say with a clear conscience that in a crisis I become more composed, more level-headed, my senses are sharpened. I work calmly, with precision, like a machine. Methodically, I synthesise the information at my disposal. I am lying on the ground. I look around. Litter is strewn beside me; I can see weeds and grass, the odd bush, a daisy, and a dandelion. I can hear voices shouting they cannot be far away the noise of a ball bouncing repeatedly on the ground.
I look in the direction of these sounds, they are coming from a group of lads playing 5. Not little boys anymore, but probably too young for the Volkssturm.
I expect they are in the Hitler Youth, although evidently not on duty. For the time being the enemy appears to have ceased its onslaught. A bird is hopping about in the boughs of a tree; it tweets, it sings. Most people will simply interpret such behaviour as a sign of happiness. But in this uncertain situation the expert on the natural world and the day-to-day battle for survival exploits every scrap of information, however small, and infers that no predators are present.
Right beside my head is a puddle which appears to be shrinking; it must have rained, but some time ago now. At the edge of the puddle is my peaked cap.
This is how my trained mind works; this is how it worked even then, in a moment of confusion. I sat up without difficulty. I moved my legs, hands and fingers. I did not appear to be injured, my physical state was encouraging; but for the sore head I was in rude health. Even the shaking which usually afflicted my hand seemed to have subsided. Glancing down I saw myself dressed in full military uniform. My jacket had been soiled, but not excessively so, which ruled out the possibility of my having been buried alive.
I could identify mud stains and what looked like bread or cake crumbs, or similar. The fabric reeked of fuel, petrol perhaps; Eva may have used too much solvent to clean my uniform. It smelled as if she had emptied a whole jerrycan of the stuff over me. Eva was not to be seen, nor did any of my staff appear to be in the immediate vicinity. As I was brushing the most conspicuous specks of dirt from the front of my coat and sleeves, I heard a voice: Hey guys, check this out!
Whooooa, major casualty! I seemed to have given the impression that I needed help, and this was admirably recognised by the three Hitler Youths.
Even though they were off the mark with my rank. They stopped their game and approached me respectfully. Understandably so to find oneself all of a sudden face to face with the Fhrer of the German Reich amongst daisies and dandelions on a patch of wasteland generally used for sport and physical training is an unusual turn of events in the daily routine of a young man yet to reach full maturity.
Nonetheless the small troop hurried over like greyhounds, eager to help. The youth is the future! The boys gathered around me, but kept a certain distance.
After affording me a cursory inspection, the tallest of the youths, clearly the troop leader, said: You alright, boss? Despite my apprehension, I could not help noticing that the Nazi salute was missing altogether. I acknowledge that his casual form of address, mixing up boss and Fhrer, may have been a consequence of the surprise factor. In a less confusing situation it might have been unintentionally comic after all, had not the most farcical events occurred in the unremitting storm of steel of the trenches?
Even in unusual situations, however, the soldier must have certain automatic responses; this is the point of drill. If soldiers lack these automatic responses, then the army is worthless.
I stood up, which was not easy as I must have been lying there for a while. But I straightened out my jacket and attempted a makeshift dusting 7. Then I cleared my throat and asked the troop leader, Wheres Bormann?
Dont know who youre on about. Never heard of him. Whats he look like? Like a Reichsleiter, for pitys sake! Something was very amiss. I was obviously still in Berlin, but I appeared to have been deprived of the entire apparatus of government. I had to get back to the Fhrerbunker urgently and it was as clear as daylight that the youths around me were not going to be a great deal of help here.
The first thing I needed to do was orient myself. The featureless piece of land where I now stood could have been anywhere in the city. I had to get to a street; in this protracted ceasefire surely there would be enough passers-by, workers and motor-cab drivers to point me in the right direction. I expect my needs did not appear sufficiently pressing to the Hitler Youths, who looked as if they wanted to resume their game of association football.
The tallest of the lads now turned to his friends, allowing me to read his name, which his mother had sewn onto a brightly coloured jersey. Hitler Youth Ronaldo! Which way to the street? The reaction was feeble; I am afraid to say that the youths practically ignored me, although as he shuffled past one of the two younger ones pointed limply to a corner of the wasteland.
Peering more closely I could see that there was indeed a thor8. I made a mental note to have Rust dismissed.
The man had been Reich Minister for Education since , and there is no place for such abysmal sloppiness in education. How is a young soldier supposed to find the victorious path to Moscow, to the very heart of Bolshevism, if he cannot even recognise his own supreme commander?
I bent down, picked up my cap and, putting it on, walked steadily and purposefully in the direction the boy had indicated.
I went around a corner and made my way between high walls down a narrow alleyway towards the brightness of the street. A timid and bedraggled cat with a coat of many hues sloped past me along the wall. I took four or five more steps and then emerged into the street. The violent onslaught of light and colour took my breath away. The last time I had seen it I remembered the city being terribly dusty and a kind of field-grey, with heaps of rubble and widespread damage.
What lay before me now was quite different. The rubble had vanished, or at least had been removed, the streets cleared. Instead there were numerous, nay innumerable brightly coloured vehicles on either side of the street.
They may well have been automobiles, but were smaller, and yet they looked so technically advanced as to make one suspect that the Messerschmitt plant must have had a leading hand in their design. The houses were freshly painted, in a variety of colours, reminding me of the confectionery of my youth.
I admit, I began to feel faintly dizzy. My eyes sought something familiar, and on the far side of the carriageway I spied a shabby park bench on a strip of grass. I ventured a few steps, and I am not 9.
I heard the ring of a bell, the screeching of rubber on asphalt, and then somebody screamed at me: Whats your game? Are you blind or what? Im terribly sorry, I heard myself say, both shaken and relieved. Beside me was a bicyclist, this at least was an image I was comparatively familiar with. Added to that, the man was wearing a protective helmet, which appeared to have sustained some serious damage given the number of holes in it.
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A surpassing work of brilliance that easily outshines its film adaptation. The movie weakened this story, essentially by trying to make it a drama. Sawatski as the beta male weakling protagonist of the film weakened its point. It had to bend over backwards in the end to do the " Adolf Hitler was a very naughty man" routine and give it a tragic ending.
The book itself has a passage that was omitted from the film because it would have revealed the film's weaknesses. Essentially Hitler complains about a placard at a concentration camp that mixes in emotional statementsnand moral judgements in with a recitation of facts, you don't have to tell someone mass murder is inhuman, it is self evident.
The Hitler of the novel is the unapologetic architect of genocide but the important point it makes that he was not a monster who slaughtered millions in secret.
The very real discontent of ailing Germany, the enthusiastic support of the people and the international love affair with eugenics made such a figure likely if not inevitable. The novel smartly uses its assorted events as an attempt to recreate the person of Adolf Hitler, and the result is fascinating. Kindle Edition Verified Purchase.
I saw the movie first, and then had to read the book.
The book itself is very readable and, like the central character, stays in character. One reason I watched the movie is because of my interest in the history of the NSDAP, and why Hitler was able to convert a civilized nation into an aggressive, racist, bloodthirsty tyranny.
Is this book satire, or a cautionary tale, or both? Regardless, it pushes the buttons of horror, disbelief, humor, irony, and suspense. It's hard to say this book is destined to become a classic, simply because divorced from its historical context, much of the impact of the book would be lost. Regardless, for this present moment, it's a work I recommend for everyone. Paperback Verified Purchase. A really unique, enjoyable book, for the most part.
Well-written, impeccably researched, intelligent, and subtly satirical. It probably helped that I have a very good knowledge of Hitler and how Nazism took hold in Germany, and generally of history and political-economics. Some parts dragged, when Hitler was musing endlessly about politics or obscure historical fact, or when the book was satirizing something peculiar to German pop-culture that a non-native German like me wouldn't know about But those parts were seldom, and overall the book was very entertaining and slyly satirical.
Especially enjoyable were the parts where Hitler was "performing" on camera, on his show, or in the street, and having what he was saying in all seriousness be interpreted by audiences or observers as him making a satirical point about modern-day culture, politics or society. I think some people who gave negative or mediocre reviews either just didn't get it again, maybe they don't "get" what Hitler was all about, his style, how he rose to power, his quirks, his personality, etc , or they prefer more overt, clumsy humor instead of something so subtle.
Some spoilers below. The premise of this book reads similar to another book, Taft In that story, Taft lies down on the White House lawn for a nap and wakes years later, then runs for President again. I doubt many people remember Taft as history's greatest monster, though. No idea how he got there, it's never really explored, but he's in a Germany full of Starbucks and iPhones. He hasn't changed, but the world has, and people view his ideals and rants as antiquated humor rather than take it seriously.
Not unlike the progression of "Being There," he ends up on TV and becomes a viral sensation. This is a satire, although at times I wondered about the actual target. Hitler returns to the world thinking he can start over and motivate Germany toward his ideals, while the people around him take his every word as method acting.