Now Shortlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 This novel is fully insane, it gets increasingly out of control and indulges in hysteric nonsense, absuNow Shortlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 This novel is fully insane, it gets increasingly out of control and indulges in hysteric nonsense, absurd plot points and shrill scenes - and I'm here for this celebration of the pure joy of storytelling. Our narrator and protagonist is the only plausible character in the whole story: Wenzel Zahn, an online community moderator for the local public broadcaster. Since childhood, he is best friends with Marco Killmann a.k.a. "Killer", a business dude and ladies' man - until Killer gets struck by lightning at the horse race track and his whole personality changes: He quits his job and moves back to his childhood home, becoming kind of the real-life community moderator of the neighborhood.
One day, Wenzel and Killer use public transport and spot Vica, a star on LosVideos (which seems to be a mixture between YouTube and TikTok), who hides hot financial tipps in ASMR videos and films about a dog and a goat jumping over hurdles in perfect synchronicity. Vica also has a gang of dubious friends and runs a shady business that, among other things, pushes fungi-driven tracking devices. Anyway, so when Wenzel and Killer spot her, she reads a not yet published novel by secretive author Drifter called "Elektrokröte" (electronic toad). Wenzel tries to find out how to get his hands on the book via investigating Vica... So: Will we get the pre-eletrocuted Killer back? What is Vica's deal? Will Wenzel find Drifter? Who is Drifter? What is the content of "Elektrokröte"? Who taught the dog a hip hop dance routine??
Listen, this story about friendship and the magic of storytelling does not intend to be plausible, it intends to be crazy, and it achieves that goal in an entertaining, surprising manner. Sterblich lets Wenzel drift though an increasingly magical and surreal world while discussing communities on- and offline, animal ethics, capitalism, and digital media. She hints in all pop culture directions, including Rocko Schamoni, David Foster Wallace, Rainald Goetz, and the real-life forum „Wir höflichen Paparazzi“, which was important for authors like Tex Rubinowitz and Wolfgang Herrndorf (the funny attempts by some literary critics to categorize the un-categorizable "Drifter" as a kind of Tschick is hilarious, btw, because this comparison is, to put it mildly, highly misleading).
The language is fast, the dialogue is witty, the panache is a 10/10, and I applaud the German Book Prize for shortlisting this work of ruthless, uncompromising madness....more
Now Shortlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 Wow, this is a really challenging, nuanced novel about toxic relationships: Mora confines her readers toNow Shortlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 Wow, this is a really challenging, nuanced novel about toxic relationships: Mora confines her readers to the inside of the mind of unreliable narrator and protagonist Muna, who does become a victim, but also a perpetrator - here, it is impossible to fully take a side, Muna does not fit the victim narrative, which does also make her an easy target for victim blaming when violence occurs. It's this complex psychological dynamic that makes this downward spiral of a story so compelling to read.
Blond, beautiful, big-breasted Muna describes her 18-year-old self as a kind of male fantasy, a projection surface. Growing up in a small town in the GDR as the only daughter of a widowed, alcoholic actress, she wants to become a journalist and, during an internship, falls in love with Magnus, a French teacher and photographer. Muna first creepily stalks him, she finally spends a night with him, and Magnus is very, very clear that he a) doesn't love her and b) doesn't want a relationship, but the guy becomes her life long obsession: Magnus is the only thing she really wants for the next twenty years, she makes him her whole world, her whole self - which is also a kind of psychological abuse.
But first, the wall comes down and he disappears. Muna crosses all lines to seek him out, to stalk him, no matter what he said (and she will do that again and again). She goes to study literature in Berlin, London, and Vienna, she has toxic relationships with a Scottish professor, a mentally ill guest in a bar where she works (the first man to physically assault her), she is followed by a student who keeps professing his love to her and basically does what she did to Magnus. Then, she coincidentally finds Magnus, both of them now stuck working in the precarious academic field, Magnus trying to get a good position, Muna just being adrift and offering Magnus to financially support him so he can write. They enter a toxic relationship, and ultimately, Magnus starts beating her.
The text is propelled forward by the question of what motivates Muna and Magnus: Very early on, it becomes clear that Muna is manipulative, that she disrespects realities or other people's wishes that oppose her own desires. She is also adrift and desperate for love. And because readers only see Magnus through her eyes, and she obviously tries to frame the narrative, it also makes them wonder: What is this guy's deal? Why does he, again and again, state that he does not love Muna and does not want marriage and children, but does not end it? Why does he stay to act out his anger, his disappointment, his apparent lack of self-control against Muna? Why does she allow him to publicly humiliate and privately assault her, why does she just refuse to believe his words? Because it would force her to define herself through herself, not via her pursuit of Magnus?
This is an exciting, nuanced text, and it does obviously achieve its goal, because the web is already full of simplistic takes from people who cannot deal with the narrative of battered girlfriend Muna also being a manipulative stalker who refuses to take no for an answer (which, of course, does not excuse the violence, but elevates the complexity of the toxic dynamic). Fascinating stuff.
Longlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 A novel about a young woman who travels to Syria to marry an IS terrorist- now THAT's what I call topical reLonglisted for the German Book Prize 2023 A novel about a young woman who travels to Syria to marry an IS terrorist- now THAT's what I call topical relevance. Unfortunately, the result is not as captivating as a text with this topic could be. Sherko Fatah was born in East Berlin, the son of an Iraqi Kurd and a German, many of his texts deal with Middle Eastern conflicts. In this novel, protagonist Murad (the name can be roughly translated into "the great wish", so the book's title) is a German with a Kurdish migration background, he has worked as a social worker and a journalist and is separated from his wife, Dorothee. Ten months ago, his 20-year-old daughter Naima disappeared with a young French man who joined the Daesh. Murad has borrowed money and traveled to the Kurdish area the Turkish-Syrian border, where we meet him at the beginning of the text. His goal: To find and bring home his daughter - but does she even want to come back?
Murad's informants present him with audio files that allegedly captured Naima's voice, who is supposed to be in Raqqa. Our protagonist spends a lot, and I mean: A LOT!, of time waiting and pondering how to get there. While he waits, he thinks about possible answers to question how and why Naima was radicalized, he communicates with his landlord, the landlord's wife, his friend Aziz, his estranged wife, and he waits, waits, waits. Other topics that arise are Murad's alienation from Naima since puberty because she grew up with an idea of freedom Murad never knew, the tiredness stemming from othering in Berlin and now, in his father's homeland, 9/11, the Armenian genocide, the effects of the separation from his wife, colonial history, Sykes-Picot and inner-regional conflict, and multi-cultural marriage (is it even multi-cultural, according to Murad?). And then: Description abound, especially of the landscape, sometimes exact, sometimes hallucinatory. They are extremely well done, but, taken together with the static ruminations, it makes for a very slowly read.
And two things bothered me about this book: First, the plotting lacks stringency (why would the wife of an IS fighter record a diary that then makes it out of Raqqa - does she have a death wish? Aziz reads like a plot device, he is not a three-dimensional human; and then, the whole thing relies on the assumption that Murad can just bring Naima home, which he can't, because Naima is a terrorist and, if she makes it out alive, will go to jail). In regarding this whole discourse whether she is a victim - a part that is well done, especially because it refrains from giving clear answers! -, I still have to compare "The Great Wish" with V13: Carrère does a better job discussing the agency of radicalized Westerners, and he points out that the videos from the Daesh are in fact not glossing over the war, but are in fact showing violence and brutalization in HD in order to attract sadists ready to act out their lowest impulses.
So all in all, this is not a bad book, but it's not focused and sharp enough....more
Longlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 A novel about the almost five year long trial against the National Socialist Underground (a neo-Nazi domesticLonglisted for the German Book Prize 2023 A novel about the almost five year long trial against the National Socialist Underground (a neo-Nazi domestic terror organization with approx. 100-150 people associated with it, which committed at least ten murders, three bombings, and 14 bank robberies until it was uncovered in 2011)? That sounds like relevant, timely literature - and it has already garnered Röggla the Heinrich Böll Prize. But IMHO, the whole thing is aesthetically abysmal: Told from the perspective of an imagined "we" entity, made up from the spectators who follow the trial in Munich - and was Röggla actually there, or did she read some transcripts? unclear! -, the text speaks with a resigned, arrogant voice, employs the clunkiest language I have read in a long, long time, and evokes no atmosphere or feelings at all.
Now you could say that that's an accomplishment, to write about fascist murderers who slaughter innocent people while the police not only stands by, but first suspects immigrants to be the perpetrators, and then readers get really pissed off not because of what happened with the NSU, no, they get extremely upset because the narrative voice is such a pain in the ass, so self-righteous, and refrains from giving the most important information. The novel yells: "Hello, I'm socially conscious literature, accusing your typical German Hans and Annegret of being too complacent." Ironically, it's the text that is too complacent in its simplistic worldview.
For comparison, let's take Carrère's V13 about the trial against the Islamist terrorists who were responsible for the Paris attacks: This author has also followed the proceedings for months, and he empathically tells the stories of the victims and their families, he portrays the defendants and their circumstances, plus finally, he questions what the purpose and function of the judicial system is. Röggla, on the other hand, gives page after page of condescending descriptions of a blogger, a grandma, and a person named Yildiz who follow the trial, she showers us with pseudo-cool remarks regarding the general attitude of the German public and the super-lame state, and the whole self-perception that shines through is outright disgusting: When Carrère ponders how to face evil, how to serve juctice, how to live in such a world, the "we" is just awfully certain about how the world works, and thus: simple-minded, but self-assured, a deadly combination, and certainly not the author's narrative intention. But still, that is the only thing I took from the text: That the narrative voice, not the people it critiques, is imbecile. We mostly don't even hear about the crimes, the victims, the terrorists, the police, no: It's blogger Klaus, and some senior citizens, hahaha. WTF.
Yes, the language is noun-heavy, clunky, non-atmospheric, and it's almost tragic how convinced this novel is that it's, you know, ART, but the worst thing about this book that is supposed to deal with a horrific series of crimes that opens up questions about the functioning of our state, about the way we deal with German history, about the rising fascist threat, is not that this book is simply intellectually lazy, no, it is outright stupid. And it has no business being on this longlist....more
Martin, a philosophy professor, writes about his suicidal thoughts that have followed him since childhood, his ca. ten attempts to take his own life, Martin, a philosophy professor, writes about his suicidal thoughts that have followed him since childhood, his ca. ten attempts to take his own life, how his mental illness relates to his childhood and how it has affected his adult life. In addition to the very personal stories, he quotes some philosophers (from Martin Heidegger to Søren Kierkegaard) and relates the stories of famous characters who died from suicide, like Anthony Bourdain and David Foster Wallace (see The Planet Trillaphon as It Stands in Relation to the Bad Thing, Good Old Neon, Infinite Jest). While this might sound like the run of the mill recipe for crafting a confessional memoir, the text is actually really impactfull, as Martin discusses a taboo in a very raw manner: For instance, he talks about suicide as a theatrical act, and describes the most shameful events related to his alcoholism without giving excuses.
While the book is rather long, especially for the genre, I have to say that I wasn't the least bit bored, no, I was intrigued by the discussions of thanatos, forms of suicide (quite a lot of them attempted by the author), literature relating to death, and the motivations that drive people to ponder killing themselves, mostly because this issue is not seriously investigated in public (it certainly is by healthcare professionals, but in general conversations, it's one of the few things that are truly not addressed). Martin even speaks about the question whether suicide is based on the assumption that death relieves people from life's general suffering, whether it's cowardly, whether it's narcissistic. He elaborates on his difficult childhood with parents suffering from mental illness and alcoholism, his own addiction, and his three marriages and five children.
Don't get me wrong: This book does not take a neutral stance on suicide, it talks broadly about understanding the suicidal mind in order to evade its destructive impulses. The text even offers resources for suicidal people. I feel like a really learnt a lot here, from a philosophy professor who battles suicidal ideation and addiction and, as he states, intends to help others by telling his own story....more
This is great fun: O'Donoghue expertly plays with the tropes of the coming-of-age novel as well as the 90's sitcom, then adds moral complications regaThis is great fun: O'Donoghue expertly plays with the tropes of the coming-of-age novel as well as the 90's sitcom, then adds moral complications regarding the Irish abortion debate, and the result is smart and entertaining. The story is carried by its lively characters: Protagonist Rachel is about to finish her English degree in the middle of the economic crisis in 2009 Cork. She lives with her gay friend James and develops a forbidden crush on college employee Prof. Byrne, who is married to one of his former students. Turns out though: Byrne is bisexual and closeted, and he starts an affair with James... of course, chaos ensues.
O'Donoghue does a fantastic job evoking the atmosphere of both freedom and fear at the brink of entering the job market a.k.a. the adult world: Rachel and James try to support each other in their aspirations, but they slowly start to realize the impact of coincidence and adverse realities while also making their own mistakes (not because they're young, more because they're people). I liked how political and social circumstances affect the characters, as they are organically included: Class issues, colonial questions (Ireland vs. UK), the economic climate and the job market, Trinity vs. all other Irish schools, the situation of queer people, moral bigotry, and particularly the repercussions of one character needing an abortion.
The whole story is told from an older, married, pregnant Rachel, which adds a different angle and more oversight. A compelling, intelligent, fun book with a lot to admire....more
Now Longlisted for the Austrian Book Prize 2023 Longlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 This chamber play ponders what adulting actually means, and itNow Longlisted for the Austrian Book Prize 2023 Longlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 This chamber play ponders what adulting actually means, and it does so by laughing about the desire for distinction as it plays out during a dinner party in Vienna. A group of 40-somethings gathers to drink Crémant and eat Quiche Lorraine at a Danish designer table while a jazz playlist from a streaming service provides background sounds, and they exchange pleasantries as well as the sentences they are expected to utter: About climate change, traveling, feminist porn, cultural theory, design choices, flea markets, you name it. The clue: The party starts again and again, while the description of the personnel (always a host and their partner, a Swiss guy, and a married couple) slightly changes regarding clothes, family situation etc., but they always come from the same class, thus remaining almost indistinguishable from the group the text presented before.
What makes the book witty is that what these people say is not wrong per se, it's just that the portrayal of this milieu, its habitus, presentation and self-perception is so pointed and spot-on that it's not cringe, but CRINGE (especially the #foodporn and #winelovers). Präauer employs a distanced, almost sociological language when describing people and scenes, which heightens the comic effect. This is also the kind of novel that should be discussed with others, as it opens worlds; e.g., I myself, when reading it, thought: How those people curate their living space, friend group, food, and discussions is so lame and annoying; and then I thought: Pff, they're drinking Crémant d'Alsace and believe they're distinguished, these basic bitches....ähem...wait a minute, who's the snob now (*sips on her Crémant de Luxembourg*)! :-)
Präauer mocks her characters without ridiculing them, she challenges readers to question how much of themselves they find in the novel, also by inserting chapters in which the omniscient narrator directly addresses the reader, asking how they experienced growing up relating to food. The problem is though that the idea behind the book becomes clear rather quickly, and then it just plays out - which is why the whole thing is (although less than 200 pages) still too long. This would have been an impactful short story, but as a novel, it adds a layer of the dinner party dragging on for way too long, thus elongating a joke everybody already got: These middle class adults are basically negotiating what good taste (not only in food) means, and where you stand determines whether you're part of the milieu or not. Ultimately, it's all about keeping people in line and self-assurance. The slight complication in the last quarter doesn't make up for the length either.
I've been following Präauer since she presented an excerpt from Oh Schimmi at the Bachmann Competition (and it was rather glorious), and I like how she's a great example for the subversive power and wicked humor of Austrian literature....more
Longlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 All three parts of the series that came before this one were also nominated for the German Book Prize, but KlLonglisted for the German Book Prize 2023 All three parts of the series that came before this one were also nominated for the German Book Prize, but Klüssendorf has never won - and I'd be rather surprised if she broke the spell with this entry. "Risse" ("Cracks") is a re-telling of the story collection Aus allen Himmeln., so it also contains ten stories which are ultimately autofictional re-tellings of the author's childhood in the GDR, but with added interjunctions in cursive that comment on the events depicted. This meta-commentary both considers Klüssendorf's autofictional works that came before (particularly Das Mädchen, "The Girl") plus that the time that has passed changed perspectives and attitudes. These cursive passages declare to be commentary by the author on the work, but as they are part of the art work and not paratext, this must remain an illusion as well.
So the Book Prize sticks to its tendency to celebrate autofiction, and while the commentary aspect shows parallels to Dröscher's Lügen über meine Mutter ("Lies About My Mother") from last year's longlist, Klüssendorf refrains from employing these parts to explain her own intention. Rather, she points out how an author might use reality to produce fiction, and how a person constantly re-evaluates their life, because new experiences continue to shape and alter our judgement.
And the story itself is certainly worthwhile telling: The mother fell for a good-looking temp waiter and had his child (Klüssendorf herself, a.k.a. "the girl") at 17, they got married and hated each other, drinking, fighting, abusing the children, getting a divorce, at some pint Klüssendorf was taken away by child protection. These are dire stories about violence, poverty, and disillusionment, but, classically, the protagonist is saved by literature, and still fighting her demons by writing - as with this book, claims the narrative voice.
I don't want to diminish this fight for control over one's own narrative, the pondering of writing strategies, and the workings of time and consciousness - but is it really that innovative? Louis did something rather similar with Changer: méthode, and the result is spectacular, because he includes himself in the story, he re-examines the sources of his perceptions and standpoints, and it's radical and exciting and also very political. Klüssendorf keeps a distance to her protagonist and the narrative voice, and the detached language, very typical for this writer, does heighten the effect of someone writing a literary reportage and commenting on it.
But to be fair, I never really got the aesthetic appeal of what Klüssendorf does, only on the theoretical level. And this is one more of her books which tells an important story and gives it a clever narrative framework, but alas, it does not really take off: I want literature that packs a few punches, that rages and cries and laughs and escalates and just goes forward. And for me, that's not it....more
Now a Finalist for the Aspekte Debut Prize 2023 Longlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 This already won the Jürgen Ponto Prize - last year's Ponto wiNow a Finalist for the Aspekte Debut Prize 2023 Longlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 This already won the Jürgen Ponto Prize - last year's Ponto winner Kim de l'Horizon then went on to win the German Book Prize 2022. Review on the podcast, Buchpreis Special #1: https://papierstaupodcast.de/allgemei......more
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 Listen, I just can't with this Booker longlist: Sure, this is a decent historical novel based on real events, but Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 Listen, I just can't with this Booker longlist: Sure, this is a decent historical novel based on real events, but it's far, far removed from any aesthetic decision that would indicate that postmodernism ever happened and from any plot points that are of heightened relevance for the social and political climate we live in today. This wouldn't bother me so much if the whole list wasn't such a mess, I guess, but alas, I'm annoyed.
The book revolves around the real W. Somerset Maugham who in the early 1920's travels to the Straits Settlement of Penang (today part of Malaysia) with his lover Gerald Haxton. He made bad decisions at the stock market and finds himself almost broke, plus he contemplates divorcing his wife back home - which means he is in desperate need of money. Enter Lesley Hamlyn, the wife of Maugham's good friend Robert. The chatty woman is the second main character, inspiring the famous author to craft new texts based on her stories, among them the play The Letter about the Ethel Proudlock case (Proudlock shot and killed a man in the colonies, she was sentenced to death and later pardoned), contained in Maugham's collection The Casuarina Tree set in the Federated Malay States.
There is love and intrigue with an exotic (I know, I know) back drop, there is some commentary on queerness as well as colonialism with its bored and useless settlers, plus there is a plotline featuring Sun Yat-sen, a (real) Chinese statesman. Ergo: There are a lot of people and ideas thrown into the mix, plotlines intersect, there are time jumps etc., but somehow the language remains slow and portly like a day in the extreme heat of the places depicted.
This is well done and all, but where is the edge? Where is the surprise? Where is the punch? This fits into the classic canon that British authors have established when writing about the colonies, and in that respect, the novel sometimes comes across as a pastiche. Another entry that remains just too prim and proper for my taste....more
Longlisted for the German Book Prize 2023 An unhinged experimental debut novel published by an indie press and extrapolating from real historic eventsLonglisted for the German Book Prize 2023 An unhinged experimental debut novel published by an indie press and extrapolating from real historic events in Siberia? Yes, Book Prize, yes!! The real Birobidzhan is a town founded by Stalin in the 1930's as an autonomous Jewish region, a settlement / shtetl on Russian soil. Set on the Trans-Siberian Railway, near the China–Russia border, Jewish pioneers were supposed to farm the land, work in socialist jobs to foster the Soviet cause and offer protection against Chinese demands for border areas. Until today, it's the only place in the world where Yiddish was ever declared to be the official language. Thousands of pioneers came in the 1930's from all over the world, and during the heyday of Birobidschan, more than 30.000 Jewish settlers lived there. Today, approx. 2.000 remain: Many didn't stay because of the dire climate and stubborn soils; in the 1940's, the population diminished because of the rise of open anti-semitism, many also left for Israel after the fall of the Soviet Union.
So now you think that Dotan-Dreyfus wrote a historical novel about this fascinating place and its intriguing history? WRONG! In the book, the experiment of the settling Birobidschan doesn't fail, and we hear the story of an alternative, literary Birobidschan, from its founding to the early 2000's, and while history reaches into the text, it constantly morphs - into magical realism, a fairy tale, a love story, several family stories, a mystery, a thriller, all topped with hallucinations and the breakdown between conscious and sub-conscious. It's a wild ode to the joy of storytelling, a meta-text with a narrator that features - as the writer of the book (who is of course not Dotan-Dreyfus, or maybe he is). The characters talk in contemporary, fast, witty sentences, and because the author was born in Israel and his mother tongue is Hebrew (he also speaks Yiddish), the German has a particular unusual sound and rhythm (Dotan-Dreyfus has been living in Berlin for ten years).
As for the story: It's not one, there is a plethora of storylines, a whole cast of inhabitants of different ages living in different timelines, and all intermingles, crosses, gets out of control (which is the whole point). There is no traditional cause and effect, or complication and resolution, life in the shtetl just goes on, and it's entertaining because the characters and the scenes are so eccentric, liveley and humorous - expect the unexpected. The language itself works as a pageturner, the smart, world-wise observations mixed with insane occurrences and anecdotes. Something like a twist happens when two foreigners from Moscow turn up with a mute girl, claim to hunt a bear (which might or might not exist, and might or might not protect the city, and might or might not come from China), then dead bodies are found: The possibility of evil has arrived in the shtetl. Oh, and then there's an entryway to the story right where the Tunguska event took place in 1908 (one or more explosions, probably caused by a meteor, that destroyed ca. 60 millions trees), and a mystical lunar eclipse, and a meteor shower, and ghosts - I mean, you get the idea: This is nuts, and I'm here for it.
This is not easy-to-sell, convenient literature, it's daring. I applaud the book prize for highlighting this overflowing novel that does not care the least bit about narrative conventions, it's just ruthlessly entertaining and smart....more
Dieser Band eignet sich hervorragend als Grundlage für Debatten über Sinn und Unsinn von Literaturpreisen, Förderstipendien, institutioneller FörderunDieser Band eignet sich hervorragend als Grundlage für Debatten über Sinn und Unsinn von Literaturpreisen, Förderstipendien, institutioneller Förderung von Verlagen und Schriftsteller*innen etc. Dabei sind die Beiträge von schwankender Qualität (was hier z.T. aber auch ein Meinungsurteil ist): Gunther Nickel liefert eine hervorragende Analyse der staatlichen Literaturförderung (von Adorno bis Baßler ist argumentativ alles dabei), Sonja Vandenrath schöpft aus ihrer Erfahrung im Bereich der Organisation von Kulturveranstaltungen und Meike Feßmann interviewt Clemens J. Setz, dass es eine wahre Freude ist. Andere Texte, wie etwa der von Michael Braun, sind erschreckend unkritisch und wirken schnell dahin geschrieben. Steffen Mensching, Nina Bußmann und Tristan Marquardt liefern Hot Takes, die aus meiner Sicht eher Cold Takes sind - aber hey, wie gesagt: Eine Textsammlung, die zum kritischen Austausch über ein wichtiges, kontroverses Thema einlädt....more
I like how Elise Hu ponders the thin line between enjoying beauty products, spas, as well as exploring aesthetics, and lookism as sexism, as a means tI like how Elise Hu ponders the thin line between enjoying beauty products, spas, as well as exploring aesthetics, and lookism as sexism, as a means to control and ultimately oppress women, because the thing is: How do you know where your personal desire to express yourself through your appearance ends and where internalized misogyny starts? It's, unfortunately, extremely difficult, because what society has taught us women all our lives is now rooted deeply in the subconscious and messes with our self-perception on multiple levels.
Hu, an American journalist with Chinese and Taiwanese roots, was a correspondent in Seoul, and in the book, she explains how the K-beauty industry has become a worldwide trendsetter, and not without mentioning the innovative potential of the ingredients as well as the brilliant marketing. But she is also knowledgeable about Korean society and the importance it puts on looks, how normalized judgement on physical appearances are - which, with globalized digital culture that increasingly focuses on image(s) and face altering software, she deems to be a trend that will soon haunt the whole world, including the normalization of more and more aggressive treatments.
I listened to the text as an audio book, and it's very well crafted journalism, mixing facts and stats and history with personal stories of Korean citizens and the author, who came into this culture and was soon absorbed by the beauty industry, both because it's innovative and exciting AND because it's dangerous and sexist (which, one could argue, generally goes for beauty standards in all countries, this one is just more extreme a.k.a. potentially our future).
A great book, coming at its topic from various angles and adding all the nuance the industry and the women who consume its products (me being one of them) deserves....more
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 Listen, two stars is maybe a little harsh, but this is the type of tame literature that doesn't hurt no one: It unLonglisted for the Booker Prize 2023 Listen, two stars is maybe a little harsh, but this is the type of tame literature that doesn't hurt no one: It unfolds exactly as to be expected, the characters are well-known clichés, and readers can nod their heads and feel like they are on the right side of things as they bemoan the social ills depicted here without any nuance and without elements that counter-act or disturb basic convictions. It's convenient literature, intellectually lazy, drawn out, aesthetically conservative. God knows why this gets a Booker nod.
The plot follows two families: Wúràolá is a doctor, but thanks to patriarchy, she is also expected to be an obedient wife and mother - she marries an old family friend who abuses her. In the second narrative strand, 16-year-old Eniolá has to beg in the streets in order to pay his school fees after his father loses his job, which in the long run makes him vulnerable to become complicit in the very structures that work to his detriment, because he has to survive. Of course, the ways if these two characters cross.
So we have two people striving for an education, a man and a woman, one wealthy, one poor, and these societal and familial positions are juxtaposed plus the connections are shown, especially in the political realm: Wúràolá's father-in-law runs for governorship, and Eniolá also gets caught up in politics. The novel clearly tells us what to think about the situations presented, which is pretty annoying, as the moral is so obvious in the plot itself. Actually, it would be more fun if this was crafted as outrage literature, but for that, it would have to be more angry, more, well, outrageous, unruly, powerful. All that it is not.
This is a novel that sticks to the well known rules of conventional storytelling while criticizing the unjust rules of Nigerian society. I wish the book would take more risks and go for a harder impact to bring its (very worthwile!) points across....more
Now a Finalist for the Aspekte Debut Prize 2023 I had some issues with this one, but more importantly, I was intrigued by this multigenerational GermanNow a Finalist for the Aspekte Debut Prize 2023 I had some issues with this one, but more importantly, I was intrigued by this multigenerational German-American-Israeli-Jewish family epic. Our protagonist is 15-year-old Margarita who is raised in Berlin by her father Avi, a hazzan from Israel. Her Jewish-American mother left the family when Margarita was still in kindergarten. When Margarita visits her maternal grandparents in Chicago, they and her father decide that she should get to know her mother, so she is sent to Israel, where her mother works at Hebrew University, and she tries to find out why her mother left.
Vowinckel's debut novel, which is based on a text that earned her the Deutschlandfunk Prize at the Bachmann Competition 2021, deals with Jewish identity in three different countries, with intersectional questions, intergenerational trauma, but also coming-of-age (Margarita has a boyfriend in Berlin and falls for Lior in Israel) and friendship (Margarita is constantly texting with her best friend Anna in Berlin, who is helping her cope through humor). Then, we have interesting depictions of Avi's job and what it entails and means to him, plus expertly placed flashbacks into the past of the family as well as a changing focus, mainly from Avi to Margarita and back.
I applaud Vowinckel for starting out with such an ambitious and complex work, although it suffers from some weaknesses. While the parents are very believable, Margarita remains all too implausible: Yes, puberty might explain parts of it, but there is so much screaming and sudden changes of behavior that her motivations partly become washed out. Also, the book starts a little too slow, and tends to be quite wordy in places.
Still, an exciting debut that ponders captivating questions and offers intriguing scenes and plotlines.
When the war arrived in his hometown of Sarajevo in 1992, Tijan Sila was ten years old. His autobiographical novel "Radio Sarajevo" depicts true eventWhen the war arrived in his hometown of Sarajevo in 1992, Tijan Sila was ten years old. His autobiographical novel "Radio Sarajevo" depicts true events that he and his friends experienced in the burning city, including marauding soldiers, rocket fire and an everyday violence that had been smoldering in former Yugoslavia for a long time until it culminated in the war.
The text focuses on the three friends Tijan, Rafik and Sead, who grow up during the war. They roam through ruins, fight looters and swap porn magazines for sweets with soldiers. Despite different ethnic backgrounds and class origins, the boys stick together, although the adult world sets a different example for them
Music already played a saving role in Silas' last novel, Krach. In "Radio Sarajevo", the young Tijan is constantly looking for a radio or batteries to be able to listen to music that helps him survive.
The war, the novel says, is never over for those who were there - and that applies to both those who fled and those who stayed. Tijan Sila and his parents came to Germany in 1994. The book hints at the long-term effects the war had on the family as well. The author plans to tell this story in a second part.
"Radio Sarajevo" is a haunting, moving novel that sensitively and intelligently tells a story of unimaginable violence and its effects from a child's perspective. Tijan Sila should get the attention of literary prize juries with this confident, important text.
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 Okay, so let's celebrate our tolerance for ambiguity: This ambitious sci-fi story is a possible Booker winner, it'Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 Okay, so let's celebrate our tolerance for ambiguity: This ambitious sci-fi story is a possible Booker winner, it's very well crafted - and I didn't enjoy it one bit. I applaud MacInnes for writing an eco novel that shows how human beings are part of a larger, mysterious, and beautiful natural system, it's one of the few Booker entries that at least somehow relate to current political issues. In the world depicted, climate change has accelerated. Enter our protagonist, marine biologist Leigh: Growing up in Rotterdam with a violent father who despaired over his job keeping the rising tides at bay, adult Leigh first joins a mission that researches a vent apparently three times deeper than the Mariana Trench - Leigh specializes in the research of unicellar algae, one of the oldest sources of life. Then, Leigh is recruited to join a secret space mission that aims to find out about mysterious irregularities - the algae are supposed to provide food and be part of the intended research.
So yes, you need to have a propensity for slow-moving, description-heavy, 500 page tomes that dive into the intricacies of marine biology and space travel and extrapolate the status quo to possible future developments in these fields. I really tried, but the fact that I didn't care about any of the characters (especially the space crew hardly gets any proper character development) made it even harder to plough through page after page of elegiac evocations of scenes and atmosphere. It's not that it's badly done, in fact MacInnes achieves exactly what he aims to do, it's just that this kind of writing does nothing for me: Endless mundane occurrences on ships and in space, intricate, lengthy scene-setting, conversations about the how's and why's of detailed scientific endeavors... that's a no from me.
We have recurring motifs like immersion, distance, and connection, we have light and darkness, the unreliable human apparatus for perception and understanding, it's very well thought out. I also liked the constant idea that in nature, time exists horizontally, so the beginning of life is still happening in various senses. The title of the novel alone underlines the author's cleverness: Leigh ascends from diving, she ascends to the sky, there's an idea of religious/spiritual wonder, and the spacecraft is supposed to come down on Ascension Island. In the final part, we hear the perspective of Leigh's sister Helena (IMHO, the most interesting character, so needless to say she hardly features) who questions natural scientist Leigh on many levels.
But I was bored out of my mind: The broad descriptions and the slow pacing, the even temperament of the whole text just drove me nuts. So all in all, I'm not surprised (and not even mad) if this wins the Booker, but I can't get behind this novel, purely for reasons of subjective taste....more
Bacà juxtaposes the beauty and plasticity of the human brain with its capacity to base violence: Our protagonist is Davide, a neurosurgeon, who freezeBacà juxtaposes the beauty and plasticity of the human brain with its capacity to base violence: Our protagonist is Davide, a neurosurgeon, who freezes when he sees his wife and son being molested by a drunk guy - then zen master Diego intervenes. Davide is embarrassed and tries to learn from Diego, while the conflict with his noisy next door neighbor slowly escalates...
The novel ponders cowardice in the face of threat, the flight option when fight is the moral thing to do, and how to deal with the human urge to violence, but not on a societal level, but broken down to the individual - and unfortunately, only in a male context: Barbara, Davide's wife, a vegan who insisted on buying a wooden house, features as a victim who dreads her 40th birthday and laments her intellectual husband's limited sex drive - which is supposed to say what exactly about "being a real man" and "being a woman"?
Especially using problematic zen dude Diego as a catalyst, the novel intends to make a statement about combining the mind and the body, but the result is undercomplex, as violence is not purely physical or psychological, and the way the books ponders its necessity is... weird, or at least logically incoherent: My hot take is that ending is not Davide's triumph, but his ultimate defeat, because the story largely disregards the question of morality, namely WHEN violence might be justified, and to what degree. To have the theoretical ability to fight a threat does not mean that there are only the options to do nothing or go all overkill.
Middle class, heady, domesticized man cannot stand up to conflict - this set up does not automatically guarantee Fight Club quality. The pacing here is uneven, the one female character is very badly written, and the core topic isn't granted enough nuance. What a missed opportunity, the basic idea was great. ...more
Herrndorf famously hated all "Germanistenscheiß", meaning the study of literary texts as taught at universities, but joke's on you, Wolfgang: JournaliHerrndorf famously hated all "Germanistenscheiß", meaning the study of literary texts as taught at universities, but joke's on you, Wolfgang: Journalist Rüther, who, you guessed it, holds a degree in German literature, has written an excellent biography of the late author and painter. Tons of research must have gone into the nevertheless concise and entertaining book that depicts Herrndorf's life, from his childhood in Northern Germany, over his studies at Nürnberg art schoool, to his literary successes and untimely death.
Several aspects particularly intrigued me: For one, the text does an excellent job connecting Herrndorf's approach to painting, his particular aesthetic and how he transposed old techniques by showing contemporary subject matters (often to a humorous effect), with his literary efforts, where he took existing genres and twisted them into something new and original. Then, I was fascinated how Herrndorf's literature evolved from writing on an internet forum ("Wir höflichen Paparazzi"), how he merged living and writing in the digital and the real world. And of course, the book is just great fun for everyone interested in the German literary scene, with cameos from people like Ijoma Mangold, Christian Ankowitsch, Tex Rubinowitz, Goodreads' own Kathrin Passig and many more. Also, I'm now even more certain that Juli Zeh is just insufferable.
While the last sentence of the book is over-the-top and unnecessarily puts Herrndorf on a pedestal (which, judging from what I learnt in the biography, he wouldn't have liked), Rüther is generally not writing from a fanboy perspective, critically tackling and interpreting Herrndorf's books and trying to capture the man in all his deeply human messiness and complexity. I really enjoyed the book, and you can listen to me being excited about it (and about Wolfgang Herrndorf's work) even more in our latest popdcast episode: https://papierstaupodcast.de/podcast/......more
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 This debut novel is composed of interconnected short stories, so it suffers from the typical curse of having some Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 This debut novel is composed of interconnected short stories, so it suffers from the typical curse of having some very strong entries, but also some mediocre ones. Nevertheless, this book finally brings some drive, some real punch into the list: Escoffery is not here to play or to offer some polite entertainment to be consumed in a curduroy jacket with a glass of red wine, no, this slaps (and I see why Marlon James, a bona fide make-it-slap-expert, endorses it) - it's one of these books that make you want to have a beer with the author, because his voice on the page sounds like he's a great guy. The text depicts the experiences of an immigrant family from Jamaica that now resides in Miami, with the members (mainly son Trelawney, the only one who was already born in America) trying to find their identities and place in the States. The perspectives and foci change, but the haunting question remains: What are you?
Not only does Escoffery breezily pull of a second-person narration, he also crafts believable dialogue and expertly dives into the psychologies of the characters, especially when he writes about darker subject matters, like the dubious father of Trelawney's cousin or the white woman who pays to be slapped in the face (Jesus, I'd LOVE to have more disturbing stuff on this damn list). When Trelawney is called "defective" by his own father, he ruins his old man's beloved tree, gets thrown out and has to live out of his car; his storyline is interspersed with other destinies and experiences, that all ponder identity in a melting pot.
The book is strongest when Escoffery balances fast pacing and psychological depth, but sometimes, the episodes go off the rails, missing their own beat, sacrificing the economic narration for more sprawling parts that don't quite come together. Still, a very promising debut from a smart, gifted author....more
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 Finally: Someone trying something daring and different on this longlist! Feeney tells the story of Jamie, a neurodLonglisted for the Booker Prize 2023 Finally: Someone trying something daring and different on this longlist! Feeney tells the story of Jamie, a neurodivergent kid on the brink of puberty, who dreams of getting to know his dead mother by building an intricate machine that allows him to connect with her. Putting aside the downright absurd focus the list puts on dead parents (because who needs political fiction in times like these?), I truly enjoyed how this particular Irish gem weaves a web of poetic references that, while not bringing back the dead, connects the living: Jamie's mother died in childbirth; he befriends fatherless Terry at school; there's fatherless Tadhg, the woodwork teacher from the islands with a dark family secret; and Tess, a motherless teacher who experiences the breakdown of her marriage, the loss of her father to alcohol addiction and the horrors of an IVF treatment. All of these characters, much like Jamie's father, who always stands up for his son, defy the standards of propriety headmaster Father Faulks sets for his school, and at the heart of book lies the question of how much a person should bend to outside standards...
...which is where the wooden boat comes in: Jamie dreams of building a perpetual motion machine, a machine that stops the chaos of destiny, "a machine for before the falling apart" which, by the standards of physics, is of course impossible - but he believes the energy of it might cross time and space to his mom. Woodwork teacher Tadhg has an idea how Jamie could fulfill his ambition in a feasible manner: He, Tess, Terry and some other students and friends want to help Jamie to build a Currach, a traditional Irish boat, which is made of wood, so a living and moving material that is bent to the vessel's shape (but not too much, or it breaks!), and floats on water, a moving element that relates to Jamie's mother who was a talented swimmer. As Tadhg explains, Currachs are always in motion, "vulnerable, but powerful", boats built by ordinary people - and sure, that's a metaphor, and it works. Even the steps in the building process relate to the characters' experiences.
The point of view moves smoothly, mainly between Jamie with his perceptions that seem to convey that he is on the autism spectrum, and Tess as well as Tadhg, who develop a tender relationship. Motifs like the color red, water, boats, family, as well as the options fight vs. flight are modulated in varying situations, and the developing bonds between the different types of outsiders gradually start to remind readers of the magical bonds of friendship as displayed in the children's books of Astrid Lindgren - still, this novel is clearly aimed at adults, also pondering questions of sexual longing, the protection of children and growing up with familial trauma.
This novel drew me in and kept my interest throughout, it made me root for the characters and ponder their backstories and motivations. I particularly enjoyed Tess' story line (which references The Edible Woman) that depicts the mechanisms of her marriage and the expectations she faces - and despises. I also like me a well thought out structure that is build intentionally and stringently, which Feeney delivers.
This might not be a perfect novel, but it's ambitious, inventive, well composed, and captivating - which is quite a lot. It also screams for a movie adaptation....more
Now Nominated for the National Book Award for Fiction 2023 Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 This is not a bad book, but I don't see how a novel toldNow Nominated for the National Book Award for Fiction 2023 Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 This is not a bad book, but I don't see how a novel told that conventionally and offering almost no ambiguity can possibly be the best English-language fiction of 2023. The plot is based on the historically true destiny of the inhabitants of Malaga Island (in the text: Apple Island) in Maine: They lived as an integrated interracial community until 1911, when they were forcibly evicted by the state and had to live in a segregated America. Harding introduces us to a whole cast of (fictional) islanders, many of them descendants of the first settlers, a runaway slave named Benjamin Honey and his Irish wife who came in 1792. Then, the state representatives, proponents of eugenics, enter the picture and the tragedy begins...
The strong suit of the text is Harding's ability to gracefully and empathically depict the destitute people on the island who live in a strong community, but far from any comfort, healthcare and with almost no access to information on the outside world. The most interesting character is a former missionary though who came to educate the children and spread Christian morals on Apple Island, and while he tries to save Ethan Honey, a gifted young painter, he largely stands by when the other Islanders are deported from their homes, prompting the question what he should have done, and in how far he was a messenger of white supremacy. The government officials cite scientific reasons (namely eugenics, like, you know, the Nazis) to displace locals and steal their property, as well as to forcefully sterilize, socially ostracize, and generally humiliate them.
It's true that Harding's language is lyrical: This is a prose that ventures into the bombastic image, the adjective-heavy evocation of atmosphere, the visceral appeal to the senses. Perspectives change, time collapses, and all of this is expertly done, alas, experimental or particularly contemporary this is not. It's the kind of prose that could have been written exactly like that 50 or even 100 years ago. It's very controlled and thought out, there is nothing particularly daring or innovative to see here. And again: That's not necessarily bad, but how many "Oprah's Book Club" vibes do you want on a Booker list?
Another aspect that got me thinking were the thoughts of the wonderful Danez Smith, who remarked that the Black/mixed characters are shown as people to whom things happen, who don't have lots of agency. They come up with the explanation that living in an Eden-like place demands a degree of ignorance, but I would argue that Apple Island was never a pure Eden in the first place: Yes, the people live in a (for the time) progressive interracial community, but they also live in dire poverty, and as outcasts - they have paid an unfair, cruel price from the get-go. The nuances are not explored deeply enough in the novel though, the text does, as Danez suggests, sometimes remain a little simplistic (read Danez' piece for the NYT here).
So all in all, this is solid storytelling, but it did not surprise me on the aesthetic level, and it did not challenge me content-wise. It's a conventional historical novel and well done as such, but riveting this is not....more
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 It's always a dangerous game when the Booker dismisses all strong contenders and instead presents a list composed Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 It's always a dangerous game when the Booker dismisses all strong contenders and instead presents a list composed of left-field entries, especially when they add young, promising authors who are not quite at the Booker level yet, but will then inadvertently be judged by Booker standards - to their own detriment. "Western Lane" is a decent book, but Booker material this is not (unlike The New Life, Chain-Gang All-Stars, Biography of X and all the other literary hits that went without a nod). Maroo tells the story of 11-year-old Gopi, whose mother has recently died. Now her father is alone, trying to take care of his three daugthers and pondering whether Gopi, the youngest, should go live with his childless brother and his wife instead.
Apart from the topic of grief, which is subtly rendered in Gopi's precise and often seemingly mundane observations, we learn about the bond between father and daughter through sport, in this case squash, which he wants the kids to take up in order to keep them occupied: While her sisters are not particularly dedicated or interested, Gopi and her dad do not only communicate through squash, spending time together on the court, their movement and alertness during the game is also connected to present physicality as opposed to the ephemeral process of grieving.
As Gopi develops a crush on Ged, the talented 13-year-old son of an employee at the title-giving sports establishment Western Lane just outside London, the element of race enters the narrative, because Gopi is British-Indian and her relationship to the white boy is seemingly deemed problematic by some, just like the the friendship her father strikes with Ged's mother. The migration background also plays a role when Gopi ponders the language barrier between her late mother and the siblings, as English was not her first language, but Gujarati. Silence is a major theme throughout the book, as are cultural differences and how Gopi's generation can deal with them.
So all in all, this quiet, shortish text offers many good ideas and is an interesting investigation into the nature of grief, but it is oh-so-slow and the set-up is very transparent and thus not particularly elegant, and sometimes even formulaic. I'm afraid this story is overall a little forgettable, but I feel like Maroo is very talented and could soon come up with a banger - this ain't it though, and the judges didn't do her any favors by nominating her now.
Longlisted for the Booker Prize 2023 While I'm starting to get a hunch that this is an overall tragically a-political longlist with a weird focus on gLonglisted for the Booker Prize 2023 While I'm starting to get a hunch that this is an overall tragically a-political longlist with a weird focus on grief, dead mothers and child protagonists, I also have to say that highlighting this gem by nominating it is well justified: In the novel, narrator Marianne tells her life story, from losing her mother at only 8 years old to becoming a mother herself. The book is a variation on the medieval poem "Pearl", in which the lyrical I grieves the loss of his precious white pearl, apparently symbolizing his daughter (or wife?), and dreams of a river, deeming the far side of the bank to be paradise: He sees a girl there wearing a dress full of white pearls and, believing her to be his pearl, aims to cross the river - then wakes up.
Here, we have a grieving child whose mother left the family home after giving birth to her younger brother and disappeared, her footprints lastly being found at the river bank nearby. The story slowly reveals what pearl the mother might have been looking for, and what prompted her behavior. Hughes does an excellent job rendering the nature of grief not only in adjectives, but in strong imagery and whole plot points employed to illustrate Marianne's emotions as a child (extra credit for the great haunted house scenes, loved it). While to work with medieval poetry can easily aquire a pretentious vibe, the metaphors are affecting and effective, even the really over-used river to the afterlife gets a pass from me. Jesus, all the chapters start with folk rhymes, which I would 100% hate when done by a lesser talent than Hughes.
The strong sense of place is inspired by the author's own surroundings in Cheshire, and the stories of both the mother and Marianne as well as the experiences they share are rooted in the experiences of the author and her own mother - the result feels precise and authentic, but still refrains from the confessional feel that a lot of recent literature displays. While grown up Marianne studies art and remixes "Pearl" in her work, the author did her PhD in Creative Writing while trying to transpose the medieval poem (you can learn more about the writing process from Siân Hughes herself here, but watch out: major spoilers).
Good choice, Booker judges (I still feel like the composition of the list as a whole is bonkers)....more
When was the last time you read a book with a protagonist who was a craftsman in the German suburbs? Exactly. Hieronymi writes pop literature about clWhen was the last time you read a book with a protagonist who was a craftsman in the German suburbs? Exactly. Hieronymi writes pop literature about classism, but as opposed to his (and my) hero Christian Kracht, he takes the working class perspective - enter Fansi, a young man who quits his jobs installing bathrooms to go back to his old profession: Joining his best friend Bashkim, they work as welders, but not in any workshop, no: They build and assemble the works of Jeff Koons (which are really built near Frankfurt: https://www.arnold.de/de/art#referenzen), in this case the controversial 66 t flower bouquet in honor of the victims of the terror attacks in Paris (also a real work of art: https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cul...).
Academics vs. craftsmen, capital vs. art vs. crafts, dignity vs. exploitation: The book oscillates between satire and social criticism and always remains entertaining. The way Hieronymi plays his topics sometimes reminded me of The Map and the Territory, one of my favorite books ever, in which protagonist Jed Martin gets accepted into art school with picture of iron tools (mechanics / craft / art: Where is the line?) and later creates a series of paintings about "easy jobs", one of them called "Jeff Koons and Damien Hirst divide the art market among themselves", with author Houellebecq also referring to the way these guys produce and sell art as über-expensive commodities and tools for distinction to be consumed by the wealthy.
Hieronymi's protagonist Fansi changes jobs from the workshop named "Hieronymus Bosch" (yup, there's also a reference of Bosch's painting "Ship of Fools") because his old master (ha!) is a defeated alcoholic, and goes to the Koons factory, pondering his role in the art circus. The friendship between him and Bashkim is beautifully rendered, as is his dysfunctional relationship with Kira, a medicine student.
And while you could certainly complain that the whole thing tends to dwell on the placative (like, you know, Jeff Koons), I still applaud Hieronymi for tackling this topic that is so relevant in the real world, yet so underrepresented in literature - I was intrigued, and I hope the book will get him some attention....more
Carrère's new book is based on his reporting on the V13 trial, meaning the court proceedings around the terrorists attacks that happened in Paris on FCarrère's new book is based on his reporting on the V13 trial, meaning the court proceedings around the terrorists attacks that happened in Paris on Friday, the 13th (so vendredi 13, V13) of November 2015: The Bataclan massacre during the Eagles of Death Metal concert, the shooting in front of the Stade de France during a televised, sold out soccer match between France and Germany, and the attacks on restaurants and bars in the lively 10th and 11th arrondissement. 130 people died, more than 350 were physically injured, many of them severely. Hired as a reporter by L'Obs, Carrère attended the trial against 14 men who participated and helped the Islamist operation (six of the main perpetrators killed themselves with suicide vests), a trial that went from September 2021 until June 2022, with around 1800 coplaintiffs and 300 lawyers. The judiciary chronicle (that's the French subtitle of the book) are his news reports, sometimes lenghtened with material that did not fit into the space assigned to the reporting in the magazine.
In the first part, Carrère lets the victims speak, and he does not hold back: We hear about the "meat confetti" reigning down on the Bataclan, about the huge holes shot into bodies, how corpses are re-assembled when it's hard to find all parts, how blood soaks through piles of bodies (some dead, some alive), how people watched others scream, beg, and be executed. The worst part is the apparent glee with which the terrorists slaughtered the concert goers, and Carrère parallels this with the beheadings of Daesch (the Islamic State): This is less about spreading religion, and more about indulging in sadism. There are many stories from those who lost their loved ones, a particularly moving testimony comes from a Muslim mother and teacher of Arabic who was at home listening to religious music while her daughter was killed by Islamists.
Then, there are the terrorists, and Carrère openly struggles to understand (which is not at all the same as sympathize with!) why they did what they did. He is intrigued by a statement made by one of them, who says that to comprehend Daesch and terror, you need to read the book from the beginning, and not start in the now. Carrère tries and ponders the caliphate, the surroundings in Molenbeek (a terrorist breeding ground in Brussels), and the individual stories of the defendants. It's hard to read, and I was particularly intrigued by the youg lawyers who took on the task of defending the terrorists, in order to uphold the French justice system (also a way to fight barbarism).
Carrère puts himself in the book as a moral and psychological investigator (mind you: Shortly before that, he had a severe breakdown and depressive episode, as described in Yoga), and he is strong because his role is not about subsuming the events under the law, it's about empathy. He talks to victims, people who lost loved ones, defendants, lawyers, reporters - and often to himself, trying to detect how he would judge the case, and why. This is a fantastic document of the trial, a reflection of contemporary history, an investigation into terror, written in sparse, held-back prose that underlines the monstrosity of the attacks. Great, great reporting....more
The basic idea is great: It's 2001, and Dawn, a book conservator, struggles with her genderqueer identity (the book uses female pronouns for Dawn). NoThe basic idea is great: It's 2001, and Dawn, a book conservator, struggles with her genderqueer identity (the book uses female pronouns for Dawn). Not only do her parents and her surroundings have a hard time grappling with the concept, her genderqueer partner's desires and her own also start to diverge. At work at the Met, Dawn discovers a secret message in the endpapers of a vintage lesbian pulp novel - and she starts searching for the author, Gertrude, who turns out to be a woman who fled Nazi Germany with her family and, in 1950's America, dreamed of a city where everyone could be free no matter their gender. But Gertrude is haunted by a dark secret...
The pacing of the book is painfully slow, which is a shame, because the questions it revolves around are all very interesting: What trauma haunts Gertrude? What's up with her ideas from the 1950's? Will Dawn find her identity and become the artist she aspires to be? There is too much filler material though, too many drawn out scenes, and the pacing is off. I liked how the text tackled the trope of the tragic lesbian / genderqueer person and shows how the characters try to fight the idea that their existence cannot be joyful, while also being to submitted to discrimination, which is of course the true root of their misery, not their queer identity as such.
It's also great that this novel takes an intensely personal perspective, illuminating the very close space around the characters instead of taking on a wide political agenda - of course, these spheres are interconnected, but to portray the effects of an abstract discussion on very concrete people is important and effective.
I just wish this text had some more panache, speed, and power - it's a little too tame....more
This memoir does a fantastic job describing how a young, smart woman gets entangled in a system build on sex and the abuse of power until, much too laThis memoir does a fantastic job describing how a young, smart woman gets entangled in a system build on sex and the abuse of power until, much too late, she realizes what she got herself into - so while Flannery's coming-of-age happened in the aughts, the content is highly relevant (here in Germany, the Rammstein scandal has been ruling the news for weeks, with quite some people arguing that as long as the 20-ish women did not object to the sexual wants of a 60+ international rock star, there was no abuse of power). Young Kate has just graduated college and gets hired at the hip, growing company American Apparel, a fashion brand that prides itself not only with ethical production, but also frames its semi-pornographic marketing as part of a sex-positive revolution, which would be a simple question of taste did the founder Dov Charney not routinely have sex with his employees, hire due to looks, jerk off in stores or in front of journalists, encourage employees to have sex with each other etc. pp. you get the idea.
Kate, trained in feminist theory, is insecure: Isn't Dove's sexual libertinage a crusade against puritanism, and the people objecting are prudes? Kate becomes a hiring manager, traveling the States and selling young attractive people the cultish company pseudo-agitprop to hire them as employees for new stores. Looking back, the author does a fantastic job describing how her younger self tried to find her own identity, enthused by the allure of L.A., excited to be part of a company that (allegedly) fights for good and dabbles in the sexually verboten, desperate for acknowledgement from Dov, competing with other "American Apparel girls", trying out modeling and even being a music video girl.
And Kate is highly relatable, even for people like me who never had the slightest interest in entering the fashion industry or living in L.A. and meeting Lindsay Lohan: This young woman wonders what turbo-capitalist feminism is actually trying to convince her of, while she also longs for excitement, joy, and belonging, and due to her age and the high skill of Dive's ploy, she is vulnerable and makes bad decisions in good faith - until she makes bad decisions in bad faith, driven by fear and guilt, realizing that what Dov calls sex-positivity is actually exploitation. After several lawsuits in which Charney was accused of sexual harassment, he was fired from the company.
Flannery expertly evokes the atmosphere of the early 2000's, with its music, fashion, tv, and general vibe. This is a great memoir that discusses cycles of harassment by showing how they function instead of theoretically dissecting them. It's also highly absorbing and a real pageturner....more
This debut is so unusual, compassionate, and wickedly hilarious: Our protagonist is 18-year-old Raizl, a young Hasidic woman who loves her family and This debut is so unusual, compassionate, and wickedly hilarious: Our protagonist is 18-year-old Raizl, a young Hasidic woman who loves her family and her community, but struggles because she feels like she can't fit in - particularly due to her addiction to internet porn. Yes, Raizl fought her way into college and is even allowed to have a computer (both highly contested topics in her family), but now she is terrified that she won't find a husband and will fail her studies because she spends her nights secretly and compulsively watching "shmutz" (dirt). Her mother, who is unaware of the porn, but wants her daughter to get married ASAP, sends her to see a therapist in hopes to make her function, the matchmaker is working in overdrive, and Raizl is torn between her wish to learn and explore, her love for her roots, and her addiction.
What renders this novel interesting is the nuanced way in which Berliner illuminates Raizl's feelings: Here, the religious community is not simply an oppressive force to be fled; rather, it's also a haven of culture and a home for spiritual Raizl, member of a tightly-knit family, who in fact wants to get married and be a Hasidic wife - at the same time, the text clearly shows the patriarchal structures attached to her community and how Raizl suffers under them. Secretly, she eats bacon, befriends a group of Goths and finds parallels between their existences as outsiders, and uses the internet to find out about various aspects of the world she is not supposed to explore. And while the porn stands for her lust, a deeply human feeling stigmatized in probably most if not all religions, the addiction contradicts the idea that the porn, also often misogynistic, is a form of liberation. In this book, there are no simple answers.
Felicia Berliner grew up in the Hasidic community, so she knows a thing or two about Raizl's tribulations, and she manages to make Raizl's feelings relatable to people like me who are largely unaware of Hasidic culture. And while I feel like comparing her debut to Philip Roth, another Jewish writer who specialized in questions of sexual desire, is excessive - Roth should really have gotten the Nobel -, Berliner's work is fresh and exciting. The plot is rather sparse, the real action is going on inside Raizl's head, plus the text offers a variety of intriguing scenes and flashbacks, showing Raizl's living circumstances, her role in the family, at college and at work, and Hasidic traditions.
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