One of Rilke's best-loved prose works-in its finest English translation to date.
Readers who enjoyed Letters to a Young Poet will cherish this enchanting work of fiction. Stories of God is a series of interconnected short stories in which Rilke offers his own unique understanding of the divine. Full of wonder and playfulness, and written in a simple, folktale style, these thirteen stories suggest, among other things, that God is present in our daily world and is seeking know humans as urgently as we have sought to know God. This new translation is the most lucid and lyrical translation of this work available in English. Rilke's German prose was unique in that he liked to use words in uncommon ways, employed obscure words, and sometimes invented words. Kohn'the translator of Shambhala's popular edition of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha... has created a translation that is highly readable and enjoyable while remaining faithful to the German. Through this new translation, a new generation of readers will be able to appreciate the rare beauty, simplicity, and intriguing spiritual philosophy that have made this one of Rilke's most beloved prose works.
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kdedidit
5.0 out of 5 stars Charming, in the best sense of the word
Reviewed in the United States on 9 November 2013
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I first read this book because it was mentioned by my favorite philosophy professor. He was not stuffy and neither is this book. It is a collection of stories that purport to be narrated to children on the nature of God and how he can be found everywhere. It is beautifully and simply written: whimsical and delightful. I am not a religious person, but this is one of my favorite books. It lifts my spirits and
gives me insight into those who are. I highly recommend this book for anyone who believes in God and for many people who don't. I am giving it to several people on my Christmas list.
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Mr B
5.0 out of 5 stars Stories ofGod. RM Rilke
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 14 August 2015
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This little book is a gem, and if you happen to love Rilke, it is a brilliant gem, and has never been out of print since the 1904 edition was published. ‘Composed during the course of seven consecutive nights when the author was 23, these stories reveal a living God in the world of common things.’ These were written when he was living in Russia, and perhaps reflect both the ambience and the landscape. They are a bit like fairy tales to be told to children, full of light and darkness, of wonder and loneliness, of insight and intuition. In some, the imagery is perhaps shocking, in others, one is left feeling moved at the end, without a desire to try and work out why. Rather than try to summarise the 13 stories here, here is a flavour of Rilkean lyricism from the opening of ‘Of the one who listened to the stones’ :
‘…..What we feel as spring, God sees as a fleeting little smile passing over the earth. Earth seems to be remembering something; in summer she tells everyone about it, until she grows wiser in the great autumnal silence, through which she confides in those who are lonely. All the springs you and I have lived through, put together, still do not suffice to fill a single one of God’s seconds. A spring, for God to notice it, may not remain in trees and on the meadows, it must somehow manifest its strength in man, for then it will proceed, as it were, not within time, but rather in eternity and in God’s presence….’ These are stories, not for analysis, but for reflection, and to ‘be left alone with itself,’ for they speak for themselves. A delight.
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P. M. Scott
5.0 out of 5 stars Provocative
Reviewed in the United States on 8 July 2019
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Loved it. Would love to discuss with an authority on Rilke or one of the translators. Depth to plumb.
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David H. Rosen
5.0 out of 5 stars A POET OF THE HEART.
Reviewed in the United States on 12 July 2018
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A favorite poet.
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Amazon Customer
2.0 out of 5 stars Two Stars
Reviewed in the United States on 22 July 2015
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Don't like the story.
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schneffke
5.0 out of 5 stars Five Stars
Reviewed in the United States on 9 February 2015
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very good
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 122 reviews
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Luís
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April 28, 2023
Here is a text that I fragmented to savor, chapter after chapter. We follow a character who tells stories about a good god. But does it exist? Does he appear in every account?
That's for the reader alone to judge. However, I, who did not follow, turned towards the religious theory; I found them charming and pushed me to think.
I would reread it more times, and many details that escaped me will return to me then.
Good reading :)
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Emma
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May 19, 2020
"'What has made you so kind?'
'Everything,' she said softly and warmly."
(A Story Told to the Dark)
"The gravedigger still smiled. 'It is a way of earning one's bread–and besides, I ask you, aren't most people doing the same? They bury God up there as I bury men here.' He pointed to the sky... 'Yes, that too is a great grave, in summer it is covered with wild forget-me-nots..." (A Tale of Death)
"Healthy people are so changeable...[the sick's] immobility makes him resemble things, with which indeed he fosters many intimacies; makes him, so to speak, a thing far superior to other things, a thing that listens not only with its silence but also with its rare, quiet words and with its gentle, reverent feelings." (How Old Timofei Died Singing)
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Dhanraj Rajan
472 reviews
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August 23, 2019
Admission of Truth:
I feel inadequate to review this book. For the reading experience that it offered was more than what I had expected. In fact, it was just awesome. But that is a word that explains nothing. Rilke comes to rescue me. He writes in one of the stories: "The things we experience are often inexpressible, and any one who insists on telling them nevertheless, necessarily makes mistakes--"
My Expectation and the Surprise:
I began with an expectation that it will reveal something about God. I am a religious person and the spiritual themes always pique my interest. This book offered me that. But it came with a force that I was not expecting. Do not mistake me that it hit me hard. In fact, I used the word 'force' to mean how much I was held captive by the thoughts expressed in the stories. The stories were on the surface level belong to the 'fairy tale type'. The immediate effect of the story was very much similar to the impact any fairy tale would evoke in a kid - pure joy. The story does not stop at that. It stays and the reflection it stimulates later on, are the reasons why they can be classed as spiritual treatises written by a mystic.
The themes are very much in line with Christian mysticism. God is present everywhere. The man is created in the image of God. This image of God is distorted in the process of many historical and technological developments. The artists of every kind and every age try to reveal the original image to both man and God. Man waits for God. It is the piety that keeps man intact in this world. Without piety (search for God) man would lose the equilibrium. To attain God is the eternal satisfaction. If one attains that he will long for nothing.
The harvest was relatively small (only 140 pages) but the riches contained in it were more than expected.
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S.
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May 16, 2009
Rilke reads like mouthfuls of velvet. Here his wisdom is so natural that it's as though you're looking at stars rather than type.
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Aggeliki
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October 11, 2019
Gift for a girlfriend in a time when optimism, hope and belief in something seem like imperative concepts. Something of mine and let's move on.
It is a book par excellence for second and third (perhaps more) readings. Clearly his stories are not purely religious in nature. If you ask me, faith is a purely personal and internal matter anyway. These stories here, however, are so simple that they are universally accepted and understandable and at the same time they ask for a second pass.
Rilke's narrative leaves you with a sweetness at the end. Maybe that means he got the message he wanted across.
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Canned Spirits
276 reviews
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June 20, 2017
The book is called Stories from God, but the content consists of stories about God. There is God in every story in some way. The narrator tells the stories to his neighbor, to his children who ask a lot of questions about God, to the teacher, and to his neighbor who cannot walk. There are stories that get quite boring and difficult to follow at times. While questioning the existence of God, there are sometimes depictions that attribute Him to a body with hands.
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Armin
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April 29, 2017
A genius gets down on his knees or all fours for the sake of money and babbles about God to the little ones. Pious arts and crafts for the shelf, only for simple minds who want to read and understand something by a great poet.
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Lavinia
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August 4, 2015
How did the thimble become God
When you left the window, the evening clouds were still in the sky. They seemed to be waiting. How about telling them a story too? You propose to them. But they didn't hear me. To make them understand me and to shorten the distance between us, I shouted: "I am, like you, an evening cloud." They also stopped and seemed to be looking at me. Then they spread their fine, bright, reddish wings towards me. This is how the evening clouds are usually greeted. They had recognized me.
"We are above the earth," they said, "more precisely above Europe, and you?" I screamed: "I see a country below..." "How is it?" they hurried to ask me. "So, like an insert mixed with things..." "That's all Europe," laughed a young man. "Maybe," you said, "but I've constantly heard that things in Europe are dead." "Of course I do," observed another with disdain. "what nonsense this would be: living things!" "Well", I insist, "mine live. So that's the difference. They can take different forms and a thing that came into the world as a sheet or as a stove has no reason to despair that tomorrow it will become something better. A plaivaz can end up once and for all, if it goes well, a stick, a mast, a fireplace or even a city gate."
"Evening cloud, you seem a bit rude to me", said the nephew who had expressed himself so little respectfully before. A dark cloud is afraid that he has somehow offended me: "I'm kind of strong", he tries to sweeten her, "I was once above a small German principality and even to this day I can't believe that it was part of Europe." They thank him and say: "From what I see, we will hardly be able to understand each other. Allow me to tell you what I saw under me recently; it would be the most appropriate thing." "Please," agreed the wise old cloud as if on behalf of everyone. I began: "There are people in a room. You must know that I see them from above and that's why they appear to me like children; so I will say simply: children. Therefore: there are children in a room. Two, five, six, seven children. It would take too long to ask me their names. And then, the children seemed to be discussing something very heated; on this occasion, each name is given to the face, slowly, slowly. They sit like that for a while, because the most senior among them (I hear his name is Hans) says as if finishing the conversation: A little pause, then Hans also answers: < It is not mentioned anywhere. I, for my part, and because I'm a bit big, I happily leave those rascals with kites to mess with them, but, anyway, they tell us that they're fairies, dwarves, princes and monsters of all kinds the variety. > < I have an aunt >, said a little girl, < who tells me from time to time....> < Ah, what >, cuts Hans short, < aunts don't matter, they tell lies.> This bold and unchallenged statement intimidates the whole assembly. Hans continues: <And before anything else it is about the parents because they somehow have the duty to teach us these things; from the others it is more a kindness. You can't ask them for it. Do you notice what our parents do? They walk around with gloomy and angry faces, nothing goes their way, they shout and sweat and - the climax! - they are so careless that, if their world were to perish, they would not notice. They have something they call ideals. Maybe these are also a kind of small children, whom I cannot leave alone and who give them a lot of work; but then he didn't have to have us. I, children, think like this: it is sad, of course, that parents forget about us. We, however, would endure everything, if it were not a proof that the adults are fooling themselves, I give back if you can say that. We cannot stop their decay; because we, as it's high school, don't have time to have any trouble with them, and when we come back late from school, no one asks us to learn something by heart. And it hurts you when you sit and sit by the light of the lamp and your mother doesn't even understand the Pythagorean theorem. You see, that's right. The big ones are going to fool themselves more and more... damage to mushrooms, what do we have to lose? Education? They take off their hats, one in front of the other, and if a bald patch happens to show, they burst out laughing. They also know this much: to laugh.If we weren't so stubborn as to complain from time to time, there wouldn't be any success in these things either. And on top of that, I'm so conceited: I even believe something like this, that the emperor is an old man. I read in the newspapers that the king of Spain is a child - that's how it is with all kings and emperors - don't let yourself be pulled! But besides all the superfluous things, the great still have something that we cannot remain indifferent to: the Good God. I haven't really seen it on anyone - but that's exactly what I suspect. They lost him somewhere, distracted, busy and in a hurry as they are. But he is something we absolutely need. Without it, many things cannot happen, the sun cannot rise, children cannot come into the world, and bread, too, is perfect. Even if the baker takes it out, still the Good God is the one who plants and turns the big mills. For many reasons the Good God is something we need. But one thing is certain: the adults don't care about it, so we, the children, have to solve it. We are only seven children. Everyone should carry the Good God for a day and thus the whole week will be with us and we will always know for sure where he is. >
A great confusion arises here. How is this going to happen? Can you take the Good God in your hand and put it in your pocket? In relation to this, a little one told: < I was alone in the room. A small lamp was burning next to me and I was sitting in bed saying my evening prayer out loud. Something moves in my joined hands. It was soft and warm, and small like a kitten. I could not detach my hands, because the prayer had not yet ended. But I was very curious and I prayed very fast. Then, at Amin, he did so (the little one stretched out his hands and spread his fingers), but there was nothing in his hands.>
Anyone could imagine that. Even Hans doesn't know how to give any advice. Everyone was looking at him. And suddenly he said: < This is foolishness. Anything can be God. Just tell him. > He turned to the one sitting next to him, a boy with red hair. Slowly, slowly, the others were also penetrated by this truth. < But we need a small object, which you can take with you everywhere, otherwise it makes no sense. Empty your pockets!> And now very strange things appear: pieces of paper, brushes, erasers, quills, strings, pebbles, screws, whistles, chopsticks and many others that cannot be seen well from afar or from whose name escapes me. And all these things sat in the children's hands, frightened as if by the rash thought that they could become the Good God, and whichever of them was able to shine, shone to please Hans. The choice of sovai for a long time. Finally, little Resi had a thimble that she had once taken from her mother. He shone like silver and because of his beauty he became the Good God. Hans took him with him, because he started the row and all the children followed him all day and were proud of him. Only with difficulty they agreed who should wear it and then Hans, in his foresight, decided the program for the whole week, so that no more quarrels would arise.
This arrangement turned out to be unusually well thought out. The one who had the Good God could recognize himself at a glance. Because that one walked more slowly and solemnly, and made a face as if on Sunday. For the first three days, the children did not talk about anything else. At any moment he asked someone to see the Good God and if the thimble, the sound of his high dignity, had not changed in any way, everything that was in the thimble now seemed only a modest garment for the real creature. Everything was going in order. Paul had it on Wednesday, little Anna on Thursday. Saturday arrived. The children were playing catch and were flying around the pile when Hans suddenly shouted: Everyone stopped in place. Each looked at the other. No one remembered seeing the thimble for two days. Hans counted who was in line and left: little Marie. And now, without much ado, little Marie was asked to bring out the Good God. What was there to do? The little girl rummaged through her pockets. Only now did he remember that he had received it in the morning; but now it was gone, maybe he had lost it while playing. And when the children went home, the little girl stayed in the clearing, looking. The grass was tall. Passers-by asked her twice if she had lost something. The child answered: <A thimble>, and searched. People did the same for a while, but soon they hated looking for it and one of them advised her while leaving: "You better go home, you can buy a new one." > But Marie is looking further. The clearing became more and more lonely in the twilight and the grass started to get wet. Then another passer-by arrived. He bent down and asked the child: < What are you looking for? > Now Marie answered, almost bursting into tears, but she was bold and said: < By God. > The stranger smiled, took her by the hand and she let herself go as if now everything was going well. On the way, the stranger said to him: <Look what a beautiful thimble I found today.>"
The evening clouds were still impatient. Now the old cloud, which at this time had grown to its fullest, turned to me: "Excuse me, I could know the name of the country above..." But the other clouds were hurrying laughing towards the depths of the sky and dragging the old man behind them.
2008
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qwerty
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December 30, 2019
What were these stories REALLY? I still haven't been able to realize after a while what it was that I read. It was definitely something new for me. It was a presentation of God in a brilliant way, perhaps one of the most brilliant writers who ever lived. They were thought-provoking stories, in a similar way to Mr. K's Stories. of the great Brecht. There is no way someone will read one without taking at least 2-3 days to think before moving on to the next. They also require full attention, if one does not read them with 100% concentration, one is not going to fully grasp the meaning one should grasp. The only thing certain, as another girl wrote, is that even the second reading is not enough. Maybe the third!
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deli
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March 14, 2018
This was a relaxing, lovely and nice read.
Every chapter is a short story though the main character is always the same and we meet some characters also in other chapters. This main character tells stories about God, though not stories we are used to. In some stories God is not metioned so it's up to the reader to find him. He tells these stories to adults, saying them to retell them to children. Why? Because they are the only ones that can understand these stories, and that can see God in them. Not only children, but also artists and poets, humble, poor or sick people are those who are closer to God. And it's through children, poets and poor people that we can "meet" God.
Really lovely stories that I should reread someday.
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