“Beatrix uses words like she uses paint. . .with brush strokes so vivid and rich I feel as if I’m there watching as her story unfolds. I love this book!” –Sissy Spacek Beatrix Ost’s memoir of her artistic awakening and early marriage opens on the heels of Germany’s recovery from the self-imposed disasters of World War II. She is part of the new generation that dances disobediently in the bombed-out villas and underground jazz caverns of Munich. Beatrix rides the dynamic decade up through the world of art, fashion, and cinema into the revolution of politics and consciousness. Marriage to the self-made prodigy and archaeologist, Ferdinand, impresario of the Hot Club, draws her into the mystical realm of the ancient Mexican gods. Soon, two sons are born. They make an odyssey through Mexico where, under the wing of the artistic elite, their homes full of Riveras and Kahlos, the initial impression is intoxicating. But the further they press inland, the more Ferdinand loses himself in his obsession and addictions. Ost draws us into the vortex of human craving to portray the complexities of her early marriage to a man scarred by the war, climbing the magical mountain of his own desires. Accompanied by the author’s artwork and photographs from her private collection, Ost “…shakes free of an impossibly dark life as the wife of an alcoholic…brushes off the stardust of romance and, stepping back in the light, comes into her own.” (Barbara Epler, President, New Directions Publishing)
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Beatrix Ost. More Than Everything
Before We Begin
Part One
The Sphere
A Farewell
The Bird of Paradise Dress
My Sister Becomes a Beast
Hammer or Anvil
Part Two
The Letter-Writer
Black and White
Coffeehouse Culture
The Villa
The Raft
Love
The Mother
Proper Lies
The Song of Irresponsibility
Chaos Takes Over Order
Elixir of Personal Freedom
Bob
Sympathy for the Object of Contempt
Smoky Language of the Wind
Part Three
The Journey
Ciudad de México
Yo creo que es él
The Black Bull
The Castillo
What I Still Wanted to Say
A Thank-You Note
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For my grandchildren: Ronnie, Viva, Luna, Christoph, Stella, Julian, Ava, and Liam
Memory’s locations are often mirages. Snapshots, visions of people I know, peer through the tangle of memory that I hold firmly once again, until they willfully or inadvertently hop from my hand.
.....
No answer.
Now we heard shoving, creaking, rumbling at the door. Then it was silent. We went quietly down the stairs. As we arrived at the last step, the shadow of a figure stretched across the floor. Next to it lay the stone sphere. We took one more step. There, in the doorway, against the white hot day outside, loomed the black silhouette of a man.