Richard Weiner (Czech writer)

He is considered one of the most notable 20th century Czech authors, and influenced the literary work of many of his peers, as well as younger writers.

His parents ran a distillery and confectionery and Richard, the oldest of five children, was destined to take over the family's business.

In 1908 he served in the military and in 1909 he began working as a chemist in the Bohemian city of Pardubice, and in Freising and Allach (near Munich, Germany).

[11] Weiner's journalistic work focused on French and particularly Parisian politics and culture, but covered everyday life and sensational crimes as well.

[3][14] Between 1927 and 1933 Weiner published three more volumes of poetry, the prose work Lazebník (The Barber; 1929) and the novel Hra doopravdy (A Game for Real; 1933).

Alfred Thomas argues: "Weiner's subtle fiction exposes – not the defunct status of language per se – but the fragmentation of a unified discourse subtended by a monistic, morally unambiguous truth.

Taking Hra doopravdy for an example, Walter Schamschula has pointed out that this novel consists of two distinct parts which are seemingly not connected to each other.

According to Schamschula critics have argued that a rational understanding of this novel is not possible, but he claims that it can nonetheless be accessed by recognizing its elaborate stage of abstraction.

[15] With the exception of a small volume by Jindřich Chalupecký,[19] founder of the Group 42, he became recognized as an important author only in the wake of the Prague Spring and particularly after 1989.

[21] In 2015, an English translation (by Benjamin Paloff) of Hra doopravdy (as The Game For Real) appeared on Two Lines Press.

The true rhyme claims: a strangely aware vexation in me stays, Here starts the abrupt journey To heights of insanity.)

Smoke belligerent soars and spirals From pregnant, fertile soil, warmhearted angels whirl around like tempests transfigured.

Of fateful tragedies that hold The crushed ones unrelieved, that live on darkness doggedly, Where they cast the beastly claw.

By opening of a heavy gate (whose rusty doorposts screeched) White water rushes fast into the judgement-storing granaries.

There in the coral country, The crazy land, the bluish dome, Where on the serene waters Float uprooted weeds of hope.