Every Man for Himself and God Against All: A Memoir

by Werner Herzog

I have experienced comparable transformations in the realm of communications, beginning with ancient times. I remember the man working for the mayor’s office in Wüstenrot in Swabia, a few hours from Munich and Sachrang, where my brother and I later lived for a year with our father. He was the town crier. There’s an archaic German word for it. I heard him make his way through the village up to the Raitelberg, ringing his bell to get people’s attention. Every three or four houses, he would stop and call out his “Hear ye, hear ye!” and announce official decrees and deadlines. From my early childhood, I knew what radio and newspapers were even though we didn’t always have electricity, but I never saw a film. I had no notion of cinema. I didn’t know such a thing existed until one day a man with a mobile projector came to us in our one-room village school in Sachrang and showed us