tonight i went to a reading with the german author monica maron, who read out of her newest novel "Ach, Glück". it was part of a reading-series called LiteraturNord, the third part to be exact, and of all three readings up to now it was the most solid one, but also the most proper and, i have to admit, the most boring.
the book itself was easy and nice to read (if you don't know what to give your mom for a christmas-present and she likes to read - take this one!) , had some depths in it and just the right amount of comic moments, and it gave me something to think about. questions i consider important popped up in my mind while i read, about what it is that i want to do with my life, how i want to spend the time i have here and if i'm really living my own life - or somebody elses? what is it that makes my life worth living, and what to need to do to spice it up more? where am i stuck in old, quaving traditions and conventions and how did i end up there?
unfortunately, the author wasn't at all interested in answering questions afterwards, but didn't just say so. she showed that she was bored by the questions, but still tried to answer them, as part of the necessary process of the LiteraturNord, which is not only a series of readings but also a tournament where a jury and the audience give a price to the "best" of six authors. the atmosphere changed all the time between really stiff and kind of humorous (mostly when the author once again blocked a question by "well, i really can't answer this, it's just part of the writing process" or "of course she returns to the dog, i wrote that"), which felt kind of funny. i guess i mostly felt sorry for herr kramer who did his best trying to moderate the non-existing discussion..
the book itself was easy and nice to read (if you don't know what to give your mom for a christmas-present and she likes to read - take this one!) , had some depths in it and just the right amount of comic moments, and it gave me something to think about. questions i consider important popped up in my mind while i read, about what it is that i want to do with my life, how i want to spend the time i have here and if i'm really living my own life - or somebody elses? what is it that makes my life worth living, and what to need to do to spice it up more? where am i stuck in old, quaving traditions and conventions and how did i end up there?
unfortunately, the author wasn't at all interested in answering questions afterwards, but didn't just say so. she showed that she was bored by the questions, but still tried to answer them, as part of the necessary process of the LiteraturNord, which is not only a series of readings but also a tournament where a jury and the audience give a price to the "best" of six authors. the atmosphere changed all the time between really stiff and kind of humorous (mostly when the author once again blocked a question by "well, i really can't answer this, it's just part of the writing process" or "of course she returns to the dog, i wrote that"), which felt kind of funny. i guess i mostly felt sorry for herr kramer who did his best trying to moderate the non-existing discussion..
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