Pico Iyer Bücher

Über den LUXUS der Entschleunigung In einer Welt voller Angebote und Möglichkeiten stellt sich der bekannte Essayist und Autor Pico Iyer dem letzten großen Abenteuer: der Kunst des Innehaltens, der Entschleunigung. Nachdem er selbst ein Leben lang unterwegs war, von den Osterinseln über Katmandu bis Kuba, zeigt er uns, wie wir in einer Welt der ständigen Beschleunigung durch das Innehalten, die Konzentration auf uns selbst, mehr Inspiration, Kreativität und Ausgeglichenheit erreichen können. Denn in einer Welt voller Ablenkung ist der größte Luxus, völlig bei sich zu sein. Mit stimmungsvollen Farbfotografien

Der Flughafen von L. A. als Mikrokosmos, als eine Stadt in der Stadt, Ausgangsort und Ziel von Urlaubern, Emigranten, Geschäftsreisenden aus aller Herren Länder. Pico Iyer hat dort mehrere Wochen gelebt, ebenso in einem „Käfighotel“ in Hongkong, in einer japanischen Kleinstadt und fast überall auf der Welt. In sieben Episoden berichtet er von seinen Reiseerlebnissen und seiner Suche nach dem, was eigentlich Heimat in einer zunehmend vernetzten, immer mobileren Welt bedeutet. Denn die Frage „Wo kommst Du her?“ bedeutet dort nicht mehr das Gleiche wie „Wer bist Du?“. Wenn Pico Iyer sogenannte Businessnomaden in Hongkong besucht, deren Visitenkarten kaum ausreichend Platz für all ihre Adressen bieten, oder ob er sich mit einem fließend Dänisch sprechenden Iraner bei einem Café au lait in der Chinatown in San Francisco unterhält, kommt er mit seinen detailgenauen Beobachtungen zu erstaunlichen Einsichten über das Zusammenleben der verschiedenen Kulturen in einer scheinbar grenzenlosen Welt. Aufgewachsen in den USA und Großbritannien, als Sohn indischer Eltern, mit einem italienischen Vornamen in Japan lebend, personifiziert Pico Iyer selbst diese neue Generation, für die die viel beschworene „Globalisierung“ kein abgenutztes Schlagwort darstellt, sondern bereits Realität geworden ist.

»Seit über dreißig Jahren lebe ich im Westen Japans, und zu meinem großen Entzücken weiß ich heute deutlich weniger als bei meiner Ankunft.« Folgerichtig zählt sich auch Pico Iyer, einer der großen Reiseschriftsteller unserer Zeit, vergnügt zu den Japan-Anfängern. Denn das Land warte tagtäglich mit zu vielen Rätseln auf, als dass selbst langjährige Bewohner echte Kennerschaft für sich in Anspruch nehmen könnten. Hier nun schöpft Iyer aus seinen vielen Erfahrungen, aus Reisen, Gedanken, Lektüren, Gesprächen mit japanischen Freundinnen und Freunden und er öffnet uns überraschende, pointierte Einblicke in die japanische Kultur: von Gärten und Tempeln über Liebeshotels und Kinobesuche bis zu Make-up und Zen. Mit Liebe für Details und Freude an Widersprüchen erhellt Iyer Japan-Neulingen ein faszinierendes Land, erfahrene Reisende werden es noch einmal mit anderen Augen sehen.

Mohawk hair-cuts in Bali, yuppies in Hong Kong and Rambo rip-offs in the movie houses of Bombay are just a few of the jarring images that Iyer brings back from the Far East.

From one of our most astute observers of human nature, a far-reaching exploration of Japanese history and culture and a moving meditation on impermanence, mortality, and grief. For years, Pico Iyer has split his time between California and Nara, Japan, where he and his Japanese wife Hiroko have a small home. But when his father-in-law dies suddenly, calling him back to Japan earlier than expected, Iyer begins to grapple with the question we all have to live with: how to hold onto the things we love, even though we know that we and they are dying. In a country whose calendar is marked with occasions honoring the dead, this question is more urgent than anywhere else. Iyer leads us through the year following his father-in-law's death, introducing us to the people who populate his days: his ailing mother-in-law, who often forgets that her husband has died; his absent brother-in-law, who severed ties with his family years ago but to whom Hiroko still writes letters; and the men and women in his ping pong club, who, many years his senior, traverse their autumn years in different ways. And as the maple leaves begin to redden and the heat begins to soften, Iyer offers us a singular view of Japan, in the season that reminds us to take nothing for granted

We all carry other people inside our heads - actors, leaders, writers, people from history or fiction, met or unmet, who sometimes seem closer to us than people we know. In The Man Within My Head, Pico Iyer sets out to unravel the mysterious closeness he has always felt with the writer Graham Greene: he examines Greene's obsessions, his life on the road, his penchant for mystery. Iyer follows Greene's trail from his first novel, The Man Within, to such later classics as The Quiet American and begins to unpack all they have in common: a typical old-school education, a lifelong restlessness and refusal to make a home anywhere, a fascination with the complications of faith. The deeper Iyer plunges into their haunted kinship, however, the more he begins to wonder whether the man within his head is not Greene but his own father, or perhaps some more shadowy aspect of himself. Drawing upon experiences across the globe, from Cuba to Bhutan, and moving, as Greene would, from Sri Lanka at war to intimate moments of introspection; trying to make sense of his own past, commuting between the cloisters of a fifteenth-century boarding school and California in the 1960s, one of our most resourceful cultural explorers gives us his most personal and revelatory book yet, and one of the best new portraits of Greene himself.

From one of our most astute observers, a haunting and unexpected investigation of the many voices he carries inside himself

From one of our most astute observers of human nature, a far-reaching exploration of Japanese history and culture and a moving meditation on impermanence, mortality, and grief. For years, Pico Iyer has split his time between California and Nara, Japan, where he and his Japanese wife Hiroko have a small home. But when his father-in-law dies suddenly, calling him back to Japan earlier than expected, Iyer begins to grapple with the question we all have to live with: how to hold onto the things we love, even though we know that we and they are dying. In a country whose calendar is marked with occasions honoring the dead, this question is more urgent than anywhere else. Iyer leads us through the year following his father-in-law's death, introducing us to the people who populate his days: his ailing mother-in-law, who often forgets that her husband has died; his absent brother-in-law, who severed ties with his family years ago but to whom Hiroko still writes letters; and the men and women in his ping pong club, who, many years his senior, traverse their autumn years in different ways. And as the maple leaves begin to redden and the heat begins to soften, Iyer offers us a singular view of Japan, in the season that reminds us to take nothing for granted

Acclaimed travel writer draws upon his numerous stays at the iconic Raffles Hotel for a discovery of not just yesterday, but tomorrow. As the hotel's first Writer-in-Residence, he explores the restored grounds and reveals a rich literacy legacy with cameos by Maugham, Kipling, Didion and many other writers. This compact volume is a personal, thoughtful and surprising look at a Singapore we too often take for granted