This is the somewhat austere gravestone of W.G. Sebald, who died in this day in 2001. It stands in the churchyard of St Andrew's, Framlingham Earl, a round-towered Norfolk church. Sebald lived nearby, in the old rectory of Poringland, described as 'a long, unattractive village' a few miles south of Norwich. As well as being shocking and premature, his death also seemed wildly incongruous: Sebald, so much the quintessential pedestrian – The Rings of Saturn is, among much else, the chronicle of a great walk – died at the wheel of his car, having suffered a heart attack and swerved into the path of an oncoming vehicle. Mercifully, his daughter, who was in the car with him, survived.
I discovered Sebald late, nearly a decade after his death, but, once I had found him, I read everything of his I could get my hands on. I would place him among the handful of recent authors whose works – at least Austerlitz, The Emigrants and The Rings of Saturn – I would save from the ruins.
The Rings of Saturn seems to me something I could pick up and start reading almost any time.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, Sebald was a collector of the old Everyman's Library if I'm not mistaken: anyway there's a photo from inside his house showing a shelf of them.
I agree about the Rings of Saturn – in fact it may be time for a reread. And glad to know Sebald liked the old Everymans – such beautifully produced volumes...
ReplyDelete