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Show Your Tongue
A record of the author's stay in Calcutta from August 1987 to January 1988. A stunning document in Grass's own words and drawings. Translated by John E. Woods. A Helen and Kurt Wolff Book
240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1988
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About the author
Günter Grass
313 books1,848 followersNovels, notably
The Tin Drum
(1959) and
Dog Years
(1963), of German writer Günter Wilhelm Grass, who won the Nobel Prize of 1999 for literature, concern the political and social climate of Germany during and after World War II.
This novelist, poet, playwright, illustrator, graphic artist, and sculptor since 1945 lived in West Germany but in his fiction frequently returned to the Danzig of his childhood. He always identified as a Kashubian.
He is best known for his first novel, The Tin Drum (1959), a key text in European magic realism. He named this style “broadened reality.” “Cat and Mouse” (1961) and Dog Years (1963) also succeeded in the period. These three novels make up his “Danzig trilogy.”
Helene Grass (née Knoff, 1898 - 1954), a Roman Catholic of Kashubian-Polish origin, bore Günter Grass to Willy Grass (1899 - 1979), a Protestant ethnic German. Parents reared Grass as a Catholic. The family lived in an apartment, attached to its grocery store in Danzig-Langfuhr (now Gdańsk-Wrzeszcz). He has one sister, born in 1930.
Grass attended the Danzig gymnasium Conradinum. He volunteered for submarine service with the Kriegsmarine "to get out of the confinement he felt as a teenager in his parents' house" which he considered - in a very negative way - civic Catholic lower middle class. In 1943 he became a Luftwaffenhelfer, then he was drafted into the Reichsarbeitsdienst, and in November 1944, shortly after his seventeenth birthday, into the Waffen-Schutzstaffel. The seventeen-year-old Grass saw combat with the 10th Schutzstaffel panzer division Frundsberg from February 1945 until he was wounded on 20 April 1945 and sent to an American prisoner of war camp.
In 1946 and 1947, he worked in a mine and received an education of a stonemason. For many years, he studied sculpture and graphics, first at the Kunstakademie Düsseldorf and then at the Universität der Künste Berlin. He also worked as an author and traveled frequently. He married in 1954 and from 1960 lived in Berlin as well as part-time in Schleswig-Holstein. Divorced in 1978, he remarried in 1979. From 1983 to 1986 he held the presidency of the Berlin Akademie der Künste (Berlin Academy of Arts).
During the German unification process in 1989 he argued for separation of the two states, because he thought a unified Germany would resume its past aggression. He moved to the northern German city of Lübeck in 1995. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1999. In 2006, Grass caused controversy with his disclosure of his Waffen-Schutzstaffel service during the final months of World War II, which he had kept a secret until publishing his memoir that year. He died of complications of lung infection on 13th of April, 2015 at a Lübeck hospital. He was 87.
This novelist, poet, playwright, illustrator, graphic artist, and sculptor since 1945 lived in West Germany but in his fiction frequently returned to the Danzig of his childhood. He always identified as a Kashubian.
He is best known for his first novel, The Tin Drum (1959), a key text in European magic realism. He named this style “broadened reality.” “Cat and Mouse” (1961) and Dog Years (1963) also succeeded in the period. These three novels make up his “Danzig trilogy.”
Helene Grass (née Knoff, 1898 - 1954), a Roman Catholic of Kashubian-Polish origin, bore Günter Grass to Willy Grass (1899 - 1979), a Protestant ethnic German. Parents reared Grass as a Catholic. The family lived in an apartment, attached to its grocery store in Danzig-Langfuhr (now Gdańsk-Wrzeszcz). He has one sister, born in 1930.
Grass attended the Danzig gymnasium Conradinum. He volunteered for submarine service with the Kriegsmarine "to get out of the confinement he felt as a teenager in his parents' house" which he considered - in a very negative way - civic Catholic lower middle class. In 1943 he became a Luftwaffenhelfer, then he was drafted into the Reichsarbeitsdienst, and in November 1944, shortly after his seventeenth birthday, into the Waffen-Schutzstaffel. The seventeen-year-old Grass saw combat with the 10th Schutzstaffel panzer division Frundsberg from February 1945 until he was wounded on 20 April 1945 and sent to an American prisoner of war camp.
In 1946 and 1947, he worked in a mine and received an education of a stonemason. For many years, he studied sculpture and graphics, first at the Kunstakademie Düsseldorf and then at the Universität der Künste Berlin. He also worked as an author and traveled frequently. He married in 1954 and from 1960 lived in Berlin as well as part-time in Schleswig-Holstein. Divorced in 1978, he remarried in 1979. From 1983 to 1986 he held the presidency of the Berlin Akademie der Künste (Berlin Academy of Arts).
During the German unification process in 1989 he argued for separation of the two states, because he thought a unified Germany would resume its past aggression. He moved to the northern German city of Lübeck in 1995. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1999. In 2006, Grass caused controversy with his disclosure of his Waffen-Schutzstaffel service during the final months of World War II, which he had kept a secret until publishing his memoir that year. He died of complications of lung infection on 13th of April, 2015 at a Lübeck hospital. He was 87.
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
December 2, 2018
But later over tea, language did treason,
the boy went wrong on me,
became a terrible angel.
This is an intriguing diary/travelogue from one of the masters chronicling a six month stay in Calcutta in 1987-88. The account is larded with sketches by Grass. These afford a haunting atmosphere to the prose descriptions of poverty and merciless weather. There are two occasions when the author and his wife meet other westerners, instantly it doesn't matter whether the counterparts are Italian or Russian: the four together are European---united in the midst of this subcontinental chaos. That made me ponder my own travel experiences with my wife. The lens of prejudice could be something you can't leave behind. It is easy to compare this account with the one by Naipaul I read earlier this year. There is much sifting to be considered.
Herr Grass weaves German politics and history into his description. The 19C author Theodor Fontane becomes a companion--as he will again later in Too Far Afield. It is likely the details which will linger. Grass buys some stationary upon which he sketches. A subtle touch indicates that the paper costs a few days wages for many of those he encounters. All the while the author stands gape mouthed at the crowding and the soaring birth rate. This reminded me of Klaus Mann recalling how the literary publication The Dial brought relative prosperity to his family during the years following The Great War. These asides to a grander canvas are appreciated, as is the constant configuring of the Indian goddess Kali into an approach to a geo-political reality. I imagine some could regard that as racist, a new Orientalism, or one with a new press release anyway. Perhaps the scandal of his teen conscription into the SS has undermined the general appreciation for this master. I am curious about the future regard for Gruppe 47.
the boy went wrong on me,
became a terrible angel.
This is an intriguing diary/travelogue from one of the masters chronicling a six month stay in Calcutta in 1987-88. The account is larded with sketches by Grass. These afford a haunting atmosphere to the prose descriptions of poverty and merciless weather. There are two occasions when the author and his wife meet other westerners, instantly it doesn't matter whether the counterparts are Italian or Russian: the four together are European---united in the midst of this subcontinental chaos. That made me ponder my own travel experiences with my wife. The lens of prejudice could be something you can't leave behind. It is easy to compare this account with the one by Naipaul I read earlier this year. There is much sifting to be considered.
Herr Grass weaves German politics and history into his description. The 19C author Theodor Fontane becomes a companion--as he will again later in Too Far Afield. It is likely the details which will linger. Grass buys some stationary upon which he sketches. A subtle touch indicates that the paper costs a few days wages for many of those he encounters. All the while the author stands gape mouthed at the crowding and the soaring birth rate. This reminded me of Klaus Mann recalling how the literary publication The Dial brought relative prosperity to his family during the years following The Great War. These asides to a grander canvas are appreciated, as is the constant configuring of the Indian goddess Kali into an approach to a geo-political reality. I imagine some could regard that as racist, a new Orientalism, or one with a new press release anyway. Perhaps the scandal of his teen conscription into the SS has undermined the general appreciation for this master. I am curious about the future regard for Gruppe 47.
September 5, 2021
Typical and ignorant - a very infuriating read.
I tried to be as unbiased as possible while reading it but the book insults Bengali culture in more ways than one without actually understanding it.
I tried to be as unbiased as possible while reading it but the book insults Bengali culture in more ways than one without actually understanding it.
January 25, 2011
One good thing to come out of all the furore surrounding the new edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was that I came across this Mark Twain quotation:
"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter - it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning."
One author who never settles for the almost right word is Gunter Grass, whose Show Your Tongue I have just finished reading. I have already told you how I came by this book, so I was really looking forward to reading it. It certainly wasn't a disappointment. It is a marvellous book.
Read the rest of my review at http://readinandritin.blogspot.com/20...
"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter - it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning."
One author who never settles for the almost right word is Gunter Grass, whose Show Your Tongue I have just finished reading. I have already told you how I came by this book, so I was really looking forward to reading it. It certainly wasn't a disappointment. It is a marvellous book.
Read the rest of my review at http://readinandritin.blogspot.com/20...
July 17, 2020
Libro que principalmente es el diario de viaje del autor de una visita que realizó a la India. Combina el diario junto con un soneto llamado "Sacar la lengua" y una serie de dibujos a carboncillo que complementan la obra. Pare ser sincero creo que los dibujos es la parte más notable de la obra, o de manera personal es lo que más disfruté del libro.
La parte del diario y del soneto es una descripción del viaje del autor, las imágenes y visiones que describe son duras, de una realidad llena de pobreza y marginación, en donde diferentes grupos sociales discriminan a otros y en la suciedad y miseria se regodean todos. La región de la India en la que se encuentra centrada el viaje del autor es la región de Bengala que comparte frontera con Bangladesh y el viaje se realizó a medidos de la década de los 80. Sin embargo, siento que de alguna manera la visión del autor se encuentra distanciada de la realidad que está viviendo, y no es que necesariamente el autor se tenga que sumergir en la miseria para dar una narración nítida, pero existen puntos en el que el autor hace énfasis que creo que empantanan las descripciones, como el énfasis en la lectura de Fontaine o la relación entre Subhas Chandra Bose y Hitler y Stalin.
Los dibujos a mi me gustan mucho, están todos muy encimados y ligeramente deformes todo muy negro y medio grotesco, creo que es lo que más me gustó del libro. Este libro es un poco caro y difícil de encontrar y la parte del soneto no me pareció muy bueno por lo que no lo considero como lectura fundamental del autor por lo que si lo encuentras por ahí esta bien y la edición que tengo es perfecto para una mesa de café.
La parte del diario y del soneto es una descripción del viaje del autor, las imágenes y visiones que describe son duras, de una realidad llena de pobreza y marginación, en donde diferentes grupos sociales discriminan a otros y en la suciedad y miseria se regodean todos. La región de la India en la que se encuentra centrada el viaje del autor es la región de Bengala que comparte frontera con Bangladesh y el viaje se realizó a medidos de la década de los 80. Sin embargo, siento que de alguna manera la visión del autor se encuentra distanciada de la realidad que está viviendo, y no es que necesariamente el autor se tenga que sumergir en la miseria para dar una narración nítida, pero existen puntos en el que el autor hace énfasis que creo que empantanan las descripciones, como el énfasis en la lectura de Fontaine o la relación entre Subhas Chandra Bose y Hitler y Stalin.
Los dibujos a mi me gustan mucho, están todos muy encimados y ligeramente deformes todo muy negro y medio grotesco, creo que es lo que más me gustó del libro. Este libro es un poco caro y difícil de encontrar y la parte del soneto no me pareció muy bueno por lo que no lo considero como lectura fundamental del autor por lo que si lo encuentras por ahí esta bien y la edición que tengo es perfecto para una mesa de café.
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December 9, 2022Auf eine Wertung verzichte ich, da ich hier nur dir Lyrik gelesen habe, als Teil des DTV-Bandes "Sämtliche Gedichte".
Grass zerfließt hier und scheint mir keine Form zu finden. Während ich anderen Gedichten voller Eindrücke von ihm durchaus eine Richtung abgewinnen kann, fehlt mir dieses Gefühl hier vollständig.
Es gibt keinen Punkt, an dem mir ein Zugang gelingt und generell scheinen mir die 80er bereits den mittleren, krisengeschüttelten Grass gebracht zu haben.
Grass zerfließt hier und scheint mir keine Form zu finden. Während ich anderen Gedichten voller Eindrücke von ihm durchaus eine Richtung abgewinnen kann, fehlt mir dieses Gefühl hier vollständig.
Es gibt keinen Punkt, an dem mir ein Zugang gelingt und generell scheinen mir die 80er bereits den mittleren, krisengeschüttelten Grass gebracht zu haben.
September 14, 2025
Baldige Reise nach Kolkata hat motiviert, das Buch zu lesen. Es war spannend, aber auch enttäuschend. Grass schreibt wirr, aber mir gefällt das nicht immer sehr bei ihm. Anfang und Ende waren dafür groß! Die Fontane Begleitung verstehe ich nicht, die Motivation für Verständnis ist aber auch aus.
June 6, 2018
Waste of time . But you get to know how a european fails to critisize colonialism, as he himself is a sublte colonialist . Dissappointing .
May 26, 2007
this is a strange book in the gunter grass canon. it's basically a structured and edited diary of the six months he and his wife lived in calcutta in '87-'88. the great thing about it is that it's a multidisciplinary reaction to his experience; the book is split into three parts, these being a prose journal, pen+ink drawings, and a long-form poem. pretty amazing.
his writing about the state of affairs in india is very compelling. it's difficult to even describe what he has been able to accomplish. he writes about the conditions, the abject poverty in such a frank but careful manner that the pathos evoked is almost subliminal...that is, he does not write with pathos, nor with shock, but in a very even tone that, instead of imparting the sensation of drama or using any typical "you should be feeling this" language, the import of what he tells you comes from simply reacting as a human being. the details he includes, though, and the way he tells them, really maximize one's reactions and understanding. it's quite something.
i have to include this particularly stunning passage from the prose journal segment:
"As everywhere else in the city, the women and children here too follow in the wake of the cows, collect the dung, dump it into tubs, mix it with chopped rice straw and coal dust, make a paste, and from the paste make cakes that are pressed to dry on the walls. Each cake imprinted by fingers, the fingers of women and children. In every quarter of the city, even near Park Street, on the walls of the old English cemetary, on culverts tall as men, next to the subway construction sites, a gigantic ruin that feeds its contractors -- everywhere, but especially on fire walls or walls around villas, which are embedded with broken glass to prevent access and ward off the evil eye, those cakes are drying, and all of them, as though works of art, are signed with three fingerprints.
"And so once more, beauty intrudes in some purely utilitarian, ad hoc item. All framed and pedestaled works of art should be forced to compete with such scenes from reality."
his writing about the state of affairs in india is very compelling. it's difficult to even describe what he has been able to accomplish. he writes about the conditions, the abject poverty in such a frank but careful manner that the pathos evoked is almost subliminal...that is, he does not write with pathos, nor with shock, but in a very even tone that, instead of imparting the sensation of drama or using any typical "you should be feeling this" language, the import of what he tells you comes from simply reacting as a human being. the details he includes, though, and the way he tells them, really maximize one's reactions and understanding. it's quite something.
i have to include this particularly stunning passage from the prose journal segment:
"As everywhere else in the city, the women and children here too follow in the wake of the cows, collect the dung, dump it into tubs, mix it with chopped rice straw and coal dust, make a paste, and from the paste make cakes that are pressed to dry on the walls. Each cake imprinted by fingers, the fingers of women and children. In every quarter of the city, even near Park Street, on the walls of the old English cemetary, on culverts tall as men, next to the subway construction sites, a gigantic ruin that feeds its contractors -- everywhere, but especially on fire walls or walls around villas, which are embedded with broken glass to prevent access and ward off the evil eye, those cakes are drying, and all of them, as though works of art, are signed with three fingerprints.
"And so once more, beauty intrudes in some purely utilitarian, ad hoc item. All framed and pedestaled works of art should be forced to compete with such scenes from reality."
February 11, 2008
Gunter Grass, Show Your Tongue (1989, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich)
Much of The Call of the Toad, especially the character of Chatterjee, was planted in Grass' head during an almost-six-month trip to India in the mid-eighties. Show Your Tongue is Grass' travel diary of that time, a hundred pages of text, a hundred pages of drawings, and a long poem. The whole thing is in diary style (of course), impressionist, but with the sense of the diarist who is also a Nobel-winning writer; while most people would lean too heavily towards one side or the other, Grass balances fact and opinion to give as much an objective picture of what he sees around him as he can. His descriptions are, as usual, excellent, and while he rarely allows any overtly sociopolitical speech to enter the milieu of his travel diary, his disgust at what he sees infuses every word. Showing one's tongue, in Hindu culture, is a sign of shame. Grass, coming from the somewhat neat and orderly (at the time) world of West Germany, finds much for India, and in retrospect his own country, to be shamed about. He talks to many about India's "longing for a Hitler figure" (according to many of those he talked to, Ghandi was considered an anomaly, and the country's real hero is WW2 general Subhas Chandra Bose, a Nazi sympathizer who worked closely with the Japanese on a plan to crush Russia between the two countries' armies), the caste system, the awful treatment of the Chinese immigrant population, the mountains of garbage, and other similarly controversial topics. But as he exposes all this and compares it to the Germany both of the 1980s and that of the 1940s, he cannot help but be awed by the beauty of India. This was not Grass' first trip to the country, and during the fifteen years in between trips, he longed to go back. Ultimately, it is this kind of division that informs the book more than anything; attraction and repulsion, outrage and acceptance, Germany and India. ***
Much of The Call of the Toad, especially the character of Chatterjee, was planted in Grass' head during an almost-six-month trip to India in the mid-eighties. Show Your Tongue is Grass' travel diary of that time, a hundred pages of text, a hundred pages of drawings, and a long poem. The whole thing is in diary style (of course), impressionist, but with the sense of the diarist who is also a Nobel-winning writer; while most people would lean too heavily towards one side or the other, Grass balances fact and opinion to give as much an objective picture of what he sees around him as he can. His descriptions are, as usual, excellent, and while he rarely allows any overtly sociopolitical speech to enter the milieu of his travel diary, his disgust at what he sees infuses every word. Showing one's tongue, in Hindu culture, is a sign of shame. Grass, coming from the somewhat neat and orderly (at the time) world of West Germany, finds much for India, and in retrospect his own country, to be shamed about. He talks to many about India's "longing for a Hitler figure" (according to many of those he talked to, Ghandi was considered an anomaly, and the country's real hero is WW2 general Subhas Chandra Bose, a Nazi sympathizer who worked closely with the Japanese on a plan to crush Russia between the two countries' armies), the caste system, the awful treatment of the Chinese immigrant population, the mountains of garbage, and other similarly controversial topics. But as he exposes all this and compares it to the Germany both of the 1980s and that of the 1940s, he cannot help but be awed by the beauty of India. This was not Grass' first trip to the country, and during the fifteen years in between trips, he longed to go back. Ultimately, it is this kind of division that informs the book more than anything; attraction and repulsion, outrage and acceptance, Germany and India. ***
March 12, 2013
A curious book that's physically large, yet contains a 100 page account of the author's time in India with his wife in the late 1990's, plus many of his pen-and-ink drawings from that time (which I confess I did not appreciate), and a long poem on the subject as well (also unappreciated). The travel narrative was fine, although he made references to an earlier trip to India on his own, about which I'd have liked to read more.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews