«En rumano es muy frecuente decir: “He vuelto a ser un faisán”, que significa: “He vuelto a fracasar”, “No lo he logrado”. O sea, en rumano, el faisán es un perdedor.» Herta Müller El faisán es un ave que no vuela, vive en el suelo, es una presa fácil que no puede escapar. En esta obra la autora refleja la resignación y desesperanza interior de los años previos a su exilio. Aborda el destino de una familia de origen alemán que espera con ansiedad la autorización para abandonar Rumanía. Los personajes, asfixiados por unas fronteras no solamente geográficas, trazadas por los aparatos represivos de la dictadura, reflejan una gran tensión en sus vidas. «Precisamente ahora, 20 años tras la caída del muro de Berlín, es una señal maravillosa que se honre con el Nobel de Literatura a una escritora que ha vivido esta experiencia en carne propia.» Angela Merkel

Censurada en Rumanía y aclamada por la crítica alemana como una revelación, la primera obra de Herta Müller describe, desde la perspectiva de una niña, la brutalidad de una supuestamente idílica aldea durante la dictadura de Ceaucescu. Con imágenes críticas y escenas surrealistas, se compone de historias de represión permanente y de incomunicación, que empiezan en las relaciones familiares y continúan en las de los individuos con el Estado. La crítica al régimen rumano subyacente en esta obra motivó que le fuera prohibido viajar y publicar y finalmente desembocó en el exilio de la autora en Alemania. «Fantasía y realidad en unos textos que están muy cercanos a lo que en español llamamos Realismo Mágico.» Jesús Munárriz, El Mundo «Honra de algún modo a todos los autores perseguidos y a todos los que han sido forzados a marcharse al exilio.» Bei Ling

From the winner of the IMPAC Award and the Nobel Prize, a fierce novel about a young Romanian woman's discovery of betrayal in the most intimate reaches of her life. "I've been summoned. Thursday, ten sharp." Thus begins one day in the life of a young clothing-factory worker during Ceaucescu's totalitarian regime. She has been questioned before; this time, she believes, will be worse. Her crime? Sewing notes into the linings of men's suits bound for Italy. "Marry me," the notes say, with her name and address. Anything to get out of the country. As she rides the tram to her interrogation, her thoughts stray to her friend Lilli, shot trying to flee to Hungary, to her grandparents, deported after her first husband informed on them, to Major Albu, her interrogator, who begins each session with a wet kiss on her fingers, and to Paul, her lover, her one source of trust, despite his constant drunkenness. In her distraction, she misses her stop to find herself on an unfamiliar street. And what she discovers there makes her fear of the appointment pale by comparison. Herta Müller pitilessly renders the humiliating terrors of a crushing regime. Bone-spare and intense, The Appointment confirms her standing as one of Europe's greatest writers

An early masterpiece from the winner of the Nobel Prize hailed as the laureate of life under totalitarianism. Romania — the last months of the Ceausescu regime. Adina is a young schoolteacher. Paul is a musician. Clara works in a wire factory. Pavel is Clara’s lover. But one of them works for the secret police and is reporting on all of the group. One day Adina returns home to discover that her fox fur rug has had its tail cut off. On another occasion it’s the hindleg. Then a foreleg. The mutilated fur is a sign that she is being tracked by the secret police — the fox was ever the hunter. Images of photographic precision combine into a kaleidoscope of terror as Adina and her friends struggle to keep mind and body intact in a world pervaded by complicity and permeated with fear, where it’s hard to tell victim from perpetrator. In The Fox Was Always a Hunter, Herta Müller once again uses language that displays the "concentration of poetry and the frankness of prose" — as the Swedish Academy noted upon awarding her the Nobel Prize — to create a hauntingly cinematic portrayal of the corruption of the soul under totalitarianism

A masterful new novel from the winner of the 2009 Nobel Prize, hailed for depicting the "landscape of the dispossessed" with “the concentration of poetry and the frankness of prose” (Nobel Prize Committee) It was an icy morning in January 1945 when the patrol came for seventeen-year-old Leo Auberg to deport him to a camp in the Soviet Union. Leo would spend the next five years in a coke processing plant, shoveling coal, lugging bricks, mixing mortar, and battling the relentless calculus of hunger that governed the labor colony: one shovel load of coal is worth one gram of bread. In her new novel, Nobel laureate Herta Müller calls upon her unique combination of poetic intensity and dispassionate precision to conjure the distorted world of the labor camp in all its physical and moral absurdity. She has given Leo the language to express the inexpressible, as hunger sharpens his senses into an acuity that is both hallucinatory and profound. In scene after disorienting scene, the most ordinary objects accrue tender poignancy as they acquire new purpose—a gramophone box serves as a suitcase, a handkerchief becomes a talisman, an enormous piece of casing pipe functions as a lovers’ trysting place. The heart is reduced to a pump, the breath mechanized to the rhythm of a swinging shovel, and coal, sand, and snow have a will of their own. Hunger becomes an insatiable angel who haunts the camp, but also a bare-knuckled sparring partner, delivering blows that keep Leo feeling the rawest connection to life. Müller has distilled Leo’s struggle into words of breathtaking intensity that take us on a journey far beyond the Gulag and into the depths of one man’s soul

From the winner of the 2009 Nobel Prize in Literature! “[The Passport] has the same clipped prose cadences as Nadirs, this time applied to evoke the trapped mentality of a man so desperate for freedom that he views everything through a temporal lens, like a prisoner staring at a calendar in his cell.” “A swift, stinging narrative, fable-like in its stoic concision and painterly detail.” The Passport is a beautiful, haunting novel whose subject is a German village in Romania caught between the stifling hopelessness of Ceausescu’s dictatorship and the glittering temptations of the West. Stories from the past are woven together with the problems Windisch, the village miller, faces after he applies for permission to migrate to West Germany. Herta Müller (Herta Mueller) describes with poetic attention the dreams and superstitions, conflicts and oppression of a forgotten region, the Banat, in the Danube Plain. In sparse, poetic language, Muller captures the forlorn plight of a trapped people