By Roberta Newnham

Aimed to coincide with the centenary of Malraux's beginning, André Malraux: An Age of Oppression is the 1st translation/annotated version of Le Temps de mépris in a entire layout. the tale (with the emphasis upon the mental trauma suffered through a German political prisoner of the Nazis within the early Thirties) marks an important second in Malraux's literary oeuvre, and a prophetic perception into the ancient implications of the location triumphing in pre-World struggle II Nazi Germany.

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Additional resources for Andre Malraux: An Age of Oppression

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Had he, too, heard the guard? Probably: because he, like Kassner, must have been concentrating so hard on listening for the other’s knocking, any different noise would surely have caught his attention straightway. Some of the patrols seemed to come round quite regularly. In the now seemingly interminable silence, but with the lingering threat of another signal from the cell next door hanging over him, one after the other the footsteps came nearer. Closely monitoring each step, Kassner lay in wait, shoulders hunched, bracing himself as if to deflect any new signal, coiled like a spring with his frantic efforts at transforming his willpower into some kind of powerful, hypnotic force.

An Age of Oppression barebacked, looking as naked as nude human bodies compared with the others’ ornate harnesses they, too, bolted in turn. The clattering racket the cantering clusters of horses’ hooves were making synchronised into a single sound as, with total abandon, they galloped off recklessly into the gathering twilight, fanning out gradually as they raced towards the woods, already shrouded in semi-darkness. Despite the grief and war that lurked in hiding somewhere beyond the mountains, they were living symbols of the world’s thrilling vibrancy and joyful outburst of exuberance as it exulted in the invigorating icy air.

He waited, scarcely able to breathe, his entire body convulsed by his feverish efforts. He tried rapping again, at random now, making no attempt at coding whatsoever. Nothing. He hadn’t gone deaf: he could hear himself knocking and walking round, and he could still hear the confused rumble of all the goings-on in the prison above the persistent drone of the religious chanting going on in his head. The guards had opened a nearby door. Had they just caught the man who had been knocking on the wall or had they simply happened to order him outside his cell?

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