What do you think?
Rate this book
Kairos
Die neunzehnjährige Katharina und Hans, ein verheirateter Mann Mitte fünfzig, begegnen sich Ende der achtziger Jahre in Ostberlin, zufällig, und kommen für die nächsten Jahre nicht voneinander los. Vor dem Hintergrund der untergehenden DDR und des Umbruchs nach 1989 erzählt Jenny Erpenbeck in ihrer unverwechselbaren Sprache von den Abgründen des Glücks � vom Weg zweier Liebender im Grenzgebiet zwischen Wahrheit und Lüge, von Obsession und Gewalt, Hass und Hoffnung. Alles in ihrem Leben verwandelt sich noch in derselben Sekunde, in der es geschieht, in etwas Verlorenes. Die Grenze ist immer nur ein Augenblick.
379 pages, Hardcover
First published January 16, 2021
3,851 people are currently reading
42.3k people want to read
About the author
Jenny Erpenbeck
29books1,027followersJenny Erpenbeck (born 12 March 1967 in East Berlin) is a German director and writer.
Jenny Erpenbeck is the daughter of the physicist, philosopher and writer John Erpenbeck and the Arabic translator Doris Kilias. Her grandparents are the authors Fritz Erpenbeck and Hedda Zinner. In Berlin she attended an Advanced High School, where she graduated in 1985. She then completed a two-year apprenticeship as a bookbinder before working at several theaters as props and wardrobe supervisor.
From 1988 to 1990 Erpenbeck studied theatre at the Humboldt University of Berlin. In 1990 she changed her studies to Music Theater Director (studying with, among others, Ruth Berghaus, Heiner Müller and Peter Konwitschny) at the Hanns Eisler Music Conservatory. After the successful completion of her studies in 1994 (with a production of Béla Bartók's opera Duke Bluebeard's Castle in her parish church and in the Kunsthaus Tacheles, she spent some time at first as an assistant director at the opera house in Graz, where in 1997 she did her own productions of Schoenberg's Erwartung, Bartók's Duke Bluebeard's Castle and a world premiere of her own piece Cats Have Seven Lives. As a freelance director, she directed in 1998 different opera houses in Germany and Austria, including Monteverdi's L'Orfeo in Aachen, Acis and Galatea at the Berlin State Opera and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Zaide in Nuremberg/Erlangen.
In the 1990s Erpenbeck started a writing career in addition to her directing. She is author of narrative prose and plays: in 1999, History of the Old Child, her debut; in 2001, her collection of stories Trinkets; in 2004, the novella Dictionary; and in February 2008, the novel Visitation. In March 2007, Erpenbeck took over a biweekly column by Nicole Krauss in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung.
Erpenbeck lives in Berlin with her son, born 2002.
Jenny Erpenbeck is the daughter of the physicist, philosopher and writer John Erpenbeck and the Arabic translator Doris Kilias. Her grandparents are the authors Fritz Erpenbeck and Hedda Zinner. In Berlin she attended an Advanced High School, where she graduated in 1985. She then completed a two-year apprenticeship as a bookbinder before working at several theaters as props and wardrobe supervisor.
From 1988 to 1990 Erpenbeck studied theatre at the Humboldt University of Berlin. In 1990 she changed her studies to Music Theater Director (studying with, among others, Ruth Berghaus, Heiner Müller and Peter Konwitschny) at the Hanns Eisler Music Conservatory. After the successful completion of her studies in 1994 (with a production of Béla Bartók's opera Duke Bluebeard's Castle in her parish church and in the Kunsthaus Tacheles, she spent some time at first as an assistant director at the opera house in Graz, where in 1997 she did her own productions of Schoenberg's Erwartung, Bartók's Duke Bluebeard's Castle and a world premiere of her own piece Cats Have Seven Lives. As a freelance director, she directed in 1998 different opera houses in Germany and Austria, including Monteverdi's L'Orfeo in Aachen, Acis and Galatea at the Berlin State Opera and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Zaide in Nuremberg/Erlangen.
In the 1990s Erpenbeck started a writing career in addition to her directing. She is author of narrative prose and plays: in 1999, History of the Old Child, her debut; in 2001, her collection of stories Trinkets; in 2004, the novella Dictionary; and in February 2008, the novel Visitation. In March 2007, Erpenbeck took over a biweekly column by Nicole Krauss in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung.
Erpenbeck lives in Berlin with her son, born 2002.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 3,008 reviews
Want to read
March 19, 2024"will you come to my funeral?" is one hell of a first line
October 22, 2022
After reading the first third of this love story from late 80ies- early 90ies, I was stunned. What a great book, I thought. And I really love how Erpenbeck primary writes a love story, with the description of the life in DDR in the background. She gives a great picture of a piece of history, without actually writing the history.
At the same time, the book was a disappointment. It is way too long and the story looses its magic. Over the middle hundred pages, we get several repetitions of the male protagonists jealousy. It is tiresome and it should have been revised with a sharp knife. This part makes my admiration for the author drop. I get it, it is a picture of an immature and egocentric man. Still, it is a way too big part of the novel.
After November 1989 the book, and it’s historical background, takes a turn. The world looks completely different for the female protagonist Katherina. But still, the background is more interesting than the main story. I am tired of the dysfunctional relationship between Katherina and Hans. But the story of the people who went from living in DDR to living in Germany over the night, is lifting the novel back to read worthy.
As I loved Go, went, have gone, this might have given me expectations and made the disappointment worse. The book is absolutely worthy of reading. But it started out so much better than it turned out.
At the same time, the book was a disappointment. It is way too long and the story looses its magic. Over the middle hundred pages, we get several repetitions of the male protagonists jealousy. It is tiresome and it should have been revised with a sharp knife. This part makes my admiration for the author drop. I get it, it is a picture of an immature and egocentric man. Still, it is a way too big part of the novel.
After November 1989 the book, and it’s historical background, takes a turn. The world looks completely different for the female protagonist Katherina. But still, the background is more interesting than the main story. I am tired of the dysfunctional relationship between Katherina and Hans. But the story of the people who went from living in DDR to living in Germany over the night, is lifting the novel back to read worthy.
As I loved Go, went, have gone, this might have given me expectations and made the disappointment worse. The book is absolutely worthy of reading. But it started out so much better than it turned out.
Shelved as 'abandoned'
May 23, 2024This is only to let you know that this won the Booker International Prize 2024
Unfortunately I did not like the writing or the subject enough to finish this book. Lucky me, another Booker winner that I did not like or finished. However. I really do not like to read books about young women having a relationship with much older men. Here at least she is not underaged. I could not get over it even though I am fascinated by Berlin history ( the city has its own folder in my books). So, it probably is a case of it’s me and my triggers, not the book.
Unfortunately I did not like the writing or the subject enough to finish this book. Lucky me, another Booker winner that I did not like or finished. However. I really do not like to read books about young women having a relationship with much older men. Here at least she is not underaged. I could not get over it even though I am fascinated by Berlin history ( the city has its own folder in my books). So, it probably is a case of it’s me and my triggers, not the book.
April 22, 2024
I don't think I've given a 1 star out in nearly 5 years because these days I just stop reading if it feels like I'm going to hate it that much. But because this year I did challenge myself to read the entire International Booker Prize longlist (and I'm nearly finished!) I did force myself to finish this book against my better judgment.
Sorry to say, I truly found nothing enjoyable about this book. I thought this was SO pretentious and exactly what people who hate literary fiction claim it is: full of references that make the reader, unless 'properly educated' feel like an outsider; insufferable characters who stand as a metaphor for some larger discussion, in this case a historical narrative; and dense, convoluted prose that is not enjoyable to read much of the time.
Obviously, this is just MY opinion since many have read and loved this book. Do I wish I saw what they see in it? Of course. But sadly, I didn't. Objectively, it's clearly a very intentional novel with artistic choices that just did not resonate with me.
Shoutout to the translator though because if anything is to be praised about this book it would be his work.
Sorry to say, I truly found nothing enjoyable about this book. I thought this was SO pretentious and exactly what people who hate literary fiction claim it is: full of references that make the reader, unless 'properly educated' feel like an outsider; insufferable characters who stand as a metaphor for some larger discussion, in this case a historical narrative; and dense, convoluted prose that is not enjoyable to read much of the time.
Obviously, this is just MY opinion since many have read and loved this book. Do I wish I saw what they see in it? Of course. But sadly, I didn't. Objectively, it's clearly a very intentional novel with artistic choices that just did not resonate with me.
Shoutout to the translator though because if anything is to be praised about this book it would be his work.
March 30, 2024
I struggled in navigating this novel and still don't have a clear idea of how the personal and political are brought into relationship with each other. Surely it's not as simple as allegory - a toxic, abusive affair as a stand-in for the state? If so, what's the significance of the vast age difference, and the revelation at the end? Is it that oppression is something that crosses all political ideologies, from Hans' Hitler Youth to his uncommitted flirtation with the west? With his age an indicator of the coming collapse of the wall? But that seems overly simplistic and a bit crass, and doesn't do justice to the more complicated elements of Hans and Katharina as characters. It also doesn't seem to make sense of the political situation where East Germans want, essentially, democratic socialism not the capitalist consumerism that follows the collapse of the wall - how is that reflected in the personal relationship? I'm genuinely puzzled.
What's most striking is the stylised prose: switching perspectives, interior and exterior, 1st/2nd/3rd person views, minimal punctuation without speech marks so the words of the protagonists blur into each other and I would catch myself and have to back up, German cultural references not all of which were meaningful to me. However, the technique is impressive and executed with great confidence.
This toxic affair fills the foreground but only in a detached, cool, cerebral way. The real matter, I think, is contained in the politicised setting: East Germany in the decade running up to the bringing down of the Berlin Wall. Hans is an older man who was in the Hitler Youth, is now a writer and by the end we know he was . Thematically, it feels relevant that he sexualises violence (his first memory of arousal is when hearing a girl scream in the dentists chair), is a serial adulterer and tips from possessiveness to abuse, but I was never sure how to achieve some kind of coherency from the book, or if that was even the point.
For all my puzzlement, the book feels written with confidence and intent - it's just that I couldn't work out how to make the two stands cohere meaningfully.
What's most striking is the stylised prose: switching perspectives, interior and exterior, 1st/2nd/3rd person views, minimal punctuation without speech marks so the words of the protagonists blur into each other and I would catch myself and have to back up, German cultural references not all of which were meaningful to me. However, the technique is impressive and executed with great confidence.
This toxic affair fills the foreground but only in a detached, cool, cerebral way. The real matter, I think, is contained in the politicised setting: East Germany in the decade running up to the bringing down of the Berlin Wall. Hans is an older man who was in the Hitler Youth, is now a writer and by the end we know he was . Thematically, it feels relevant that he sexualises violence (his first memory of arousal is when hearing a girl scream in the dentists chair), is a serial adulterer and tips from possessiveness to abuse, but I was never sure how to achieve some kind of coherency from the book, or if that was even the point.
For all my puzzlement, the book feels written with confidence and intent - it's just that I couldn't work out how to make the two stands cohere meaningfully.
October 31, 2024
Deserving Winner of the 2024 International Booker Prize
Shortlisted for the 2024 Warwick Prize for Women In Translation
Longlisted for the 2024 National Translation Award in Prose.
Longlisted for the Oxford-Weidenfeld Prize
While he was living with Katharina in the strange apartment he took a lot of trouble fitting her out, her, Katharina. Provided her with everything that made him feel at home. Bach, Beethoven, Brecht, Busch, Chopin, Eisler, Giotto, Goya, Grunewald, Hacks, Kafka, Lenin, Thomas Mann, Marx, Mozart, Neher, Steinberg, Verdi, Robert Walser. In alphabetical order. Order is the fear of disorder. A kind of fear. His too. Was he just looking for a more attractive mirror for himself in her young flesh? In his solitude, someone who can answer back to him? Or did he really share all that out of love? She was the cause of his banishment. Love, love, love, he says to himself, all at once the word seems quite empty.
That line “provided her with everything that made him feel at home� (my emphasis) is for me key to Kairos, Michael Hoffman’s translation of Jenny Erpenbeck’s 4th novel, an intense and fascinating character study of a psychologically manipulative relationship, infused with the Greek epics and literary and cultural references as per the catalogue of names, and a revealing and balanced insight into life in the DDR either side of German reunification (looking beyond the “Eberswalder frankfurters and Meissen porcelain� which is how the western side saw the country), one where allegories can be drawn but not always directly.
The novel’s framing device has Katharina, now living in the US, learning of the death of her former lover, from many years earlier, Hans, and then receiving his archives of their relationship:
Kairos, the god of fortunate moments, is supposed to have a lock of hair on his forehead, which is the only way of grasping hold of him. Because once the god has slipped past on his winged feet, the back of his head is sleek and hairless, nowhere to grab hold of. Was it a fortunate moment, then, when she, just nineteen, first met Hans?
One day in early November, she sits down on the floor and prepares herself to sift—sheet by sheet, folder by folder—through the contents of the first box, then the second. It's so much detritus. The oldest items date back to '86, the latest are from '92. There are letters and carbons of letters, scribbled notes, shopping lists, desk diaries, photo prints and negatives, postcards, collages, a few news-paper clippings. A sugar cube (from the Kranzler Cafe) disintegrates in her fingers. Pressed flower petals slip out from between pages, passport photographs stay pinned to pieces of paper, there's a twist of hair in a matchbox.
She has a suitcase of her own, full of letters, carbons, and souvenirs, "flat product" for the most part, as the archivists like to say. Her own diaries and journals. The next day she climbs up the library steps and takes it down from the top shelf, it's incredibly dusty in-side and out. A long time ago, the papers in his boxes and those in her suitcase were speaking to each other. Now they're both speak-ing to time. A suitcase like that, cardboard boxes like that, full of middles and endings and beginnings, buried under decades' worth of dust; pages that were written to deceive alongside other pages that were striving for truth; things itemized, other things passed over, all lying together higgledy-piggledy; the contradictions and the denials, silent fury and mute adoration together in one envelope, in one folder; what is forgotten just as creased and yellowed as what, dimly or distinctly, one still remembers. While her hands pick up dust from the old folders, Katharine remembers how her father used to make guest appearances at childhood birthdays as a magician. He would throw a whole pack of playing cards up in the air, and still manage to pick out the one that she or one of of the other children had chosen.
The story, then takes us back to the DDR in July 1986. Katharina is a 19 year old student, with a desire to work on theater, and Hans a married 53 year old writer and novelist. He is 10 years older than her father but that their calendar birth years add up to 100 they see as a sign that their relationship is destined. They meet by chance on a bus, an exchanged glance leads to a passionate and long-lasting affair.
The narration is in the present tense and also switches between the perspectives and thoughts of the two protagonists mid-scene:
From now on, he thinks, the responsibility for their existence is entirely hers. He has to protect himself from himself. Maybe she's a monster?
She thinks, he wants to prepare me for difficult times ahead. He wants to protect me. Protect me from myself, and so he gives me the power of decision over us.
He thinks, as long as she wants us, it won't be wrong.
She thinks, if he leaves everything to me, then he'll see what love means.
He thinks, she won't understand what she's agreed to until much later.
And she, he's putting himself in my hands.
All these things are thought on this evening, and all together they make up a many-faceted truth.
They tell the waiter: It looks like our friend has let us down. He pays, pockets his spectacle case and his cigarettes, make of Duet, her jacket is hanging up in the cloakroom next to his summer coat, the two sets of material are rubbing shoulders, getting acquainted. Holy Binity, he says, and points to the arrangement, before the cloakroom attendant hands them the items over the counter, and he holds the jacket up for the girl to slip into. This is the second item from their common vocabulary.
Hans, as per the opening quote, from day 1 of their relationship tried to mould Katharina in his own cultural image. The novel however hinges around one incident in the middle of their story, when she has a brief fling with a fellow theatre worker of her own age, and Hans turns up his gaslighting to the maximum, including sending her cassette tapes denouncing her betrayal and asking her to condemn herself in response to his accusations.
Hans is manipulative, hypocritical, jealous, sadistic (an element he introduces to their sex life without asking for consent), intellectually arrogant and fanatical.
A former Hitler Youth, his father a professor at the Nazified Pozen university (by constraint Katharina’s grandfather, of a similar generation, fought for the anti- fascists in Spain), Hans moved from the West to the DDR in part as redemption for his past, and now seems equally a believer in the ideology of the state even as it literally crumbles around him: “what’s at issue here aren’t reforms that will abolish socialism, but reforms that will make it possible again�, reads a petition he signs (echoes of Christa’s Wolf’s opposition to reunification). Although the extrapriation of the real-life Wolf Biermann () in the mid 1970s leaves him disillusioned with the political leadership.
The third quarter of the novel can drag a little, and stretch the reader’s credibility as to how much Katharina can put up with from Hans, but the same might be said of the dying days of the Soviet Union and its puppet states.
And the novel becomes more socio-political and less personal as its timeline crosses 1989, showing how the East German regime and way of life simply vanished overnight, absorbed into the West. Fascinatingly one could view Hans’s treatment of Katharina as both an analogy for the East’s treatment of its own people, but also of the post-reunification treatment by the West of society in the East.
The poster for the play Lohndrücker (the Scab) by Heiner Müller, which features in the novel, itself based on Duelo a garrotazos ( ) by Goya.
Impressive and a strong International Booker contender.
Shortlisted for the 2024 Warwick Prize for Women In Translation
Longlisted for the 2024 National Translation Award in Prose.
Longlisted for the Oxford-Weidenfeld Prize
While he was living with Katharina in the strange apartment he took a lot of trouble fitting her out, her, Katharina. Provided her with everything that made him feel at home. Bach, Beethoven, Brecht, Busch, Chopin, Eisler, Giotto, Goya, Grunewald, Hacks, Kafka, Lenin, Thomas Mann, Marx, Mozart, Neher, Steinberg, Verdi, Robert Walser. In alphabetical order. Order is the fear of disorder. A kind of fear. His too. Was he just looking for a more attractive mirror for himself in her young flesh? In his solitude, someone who can answer back to him? Or did he really share all that out of love? She was the cause of his banishment. Love, love, love, he says to himself, all at once the word seems quite empty.
That line “provided her with everything that made him feel at home� (my emphasis) is for me key to Kairos, Michael Hoffman’s translation of Jenny Erpenbeck’s 4th novel, an intense and fascinating character study of a psychologically manipulative relationship, infused with the Greek epics and literary and cultural references as per the catalogue of names, and a revealing and balanced insight into life in the DDR either side of German reunification (looking beyond the “Eberswalder frankfurters and Meissen porcelain� which is how the western side saw the country), one where allegories can be drawn but not always directly.
The novel’s framing device has Katharina, now living in the US, learning of the death of her former lover, from many years earlier, Hans, and then receiving his archives of their relationship:
Kairos, the god of fortunate moments, is supposed to have a lock of hair on his forehead, which is the only way of grasping hold of him. Because once the god has slipped past on his winged feet, the back of his head is sleek and hairless, nowhere to grab hold of. Was it a fortunate moment, then, when she, just nineteen, first met Hans?
One day in early November, she sits down on the floor and prepares herself to sift—sheet by sheet, folder by folder—through the contents of the first box, then the second. It's so much detritus. The oldest items date back to '86, the latest are from '92. There are letters and carbons of letters, scribbled notes, shopping lists, desk diaries, photo prints and negatives, postcards, collages, a few news-paper clippings. A sugar cube (from the Kranzler Cafe) disintegrates in her fingers. Pressed flower petals slip out from between pages, passport photographs stay pinned to pieces of paper, there's a twist of hair in a matchbox.
She has a suitcase of her own, full of letters, carbons, and souvenirs, "flat product" for the most part, as the archivists like to say. Her own diaries and journals. The next day she climbs up the library steps and takes it down from the top shelf, it's incredibly dusty in-side and out. A long time ago, the papers in his boxes and those in her suitcase were speaking to each other. Now they're both speak-ing to time. A suitcase like that, cardboard boxes like that, full of middles and endings and beginnings, buried under decades' worth of dust; pages that were written to deceive alongside other pages that were striving for truth; things itemized, other things passed over, all lying together higgledy-piggledy; the contradictions and the denials, silent fury and mute adoration together in one envelope, in one folder; what is forgotten just as creased and yellowed as what, dimly or distinctly, one still remembers. While her hands pick up dust from the old folders, Katharine remembers how her father used to make guest appearances at childhood birthdays as a magician. He would throw a whole pack of playing cards up in the air, and still manage to pick out the one that she or one of of the other children had chosen.
The story, then takes us back to the DDR in July 1986. Katharina is a 19 year old student, with a desire to work on theater, and Hans a married 53 year old writer and novelist. He is 10 years older than her father but that their calendar birth years add up to 100 they see as a sign that their relationship is destined. They meet by chance on a bus, an exchanged glance leads to a passionate and long-lasting affair.
The narration is in the present tense and also switches between the perspectives and thoughts of the two protagonists mid-scene:
From now on, he thinks, the responsibility for their existence is entirely hers. He has to protect himself from himself. Maybe she's a monster?
She thinks, he wants to prepare me for difficult times ahead. He wants to protect me. Protect me from myself, and so he gives me the power of decision over us.
He thinks, as long as she wants us, it won't be wrong.
She thinks, if he leaves everything to me, then he'll see what love means.
He thinks, she won't understand what she's agreed to until much later.
And she, he's putting himself in my hands.
All these things are thought on this evening, and all together they make up a many-faceted truth.
They tell the waiter: It looks like our friend has let us down. He pays, pockets his spectacle case and his cigarettes, make of Duet, her jacket is hanging up in the cloakroom next to his summer coat, the two sets of material are rubbing shoulders, getting acquainted. Holy Binity, he says, and points to the arrangement, before the cloakroom attendant hands them the items over the counter, and he holds the jacket up for the girl to slip into. This is the second item from their common vocabulary.
Hans, as per the opening quote, from day 1 of their relationship tried to mould Katharina in his own cultural image. The novel however hinges around one incident in the middle of their story, when she has a brief fling with a fellow theatre worker of her own age, and Hans turns up his gaslighting to the maximum, including sending her cassette tapes denouncing her betrayal and asking her to condemn herself in response to his accusations.
Hans is manipulative, hypocritical, jealous, sadistic (an element he introduces to their sex life without asking for consent), intellectually arrogant and fanatical.
A former Hitler Youth, his father a professor at the Nazified Pozen university (by constraint Katharina’s grandfather, of a similar generation, fought for the anti- fascists in Spain), Hans moved from the West to the DDR in part as redemption for his past, and now seems equally a believer in the ideology of the state even as it literally crumbles around him: “what’s at issue here aren’t reforms that will abolish socialism, but reforms that will make it possible again�, reads a petition he signs (echoes of Christa’s Wolf’s opposition to reunification). Although the extrapriation of the real-life Wolf Biermann () in the mid 1970s leaves him disillusioned with the political leadership.
The third quarter of the novel can drag a little, and stretch the reader’s credibility as to how much Katharina can put up with from Hans, but the same might be said of the dying days of the Soviet Union and its puppet states.
And the novel becomes more socio-political and less personal as its timeline crosses 1989, showing how the East German regime and way of life simply vanished overnight, absorbed into the West. Fascinatingly one could view Hans’s treatment of Katharina as both an analogy for the East’s treatment of its own people, but also of the post-reunification treatment by the West of society in the East.
The poster for the play Lohndrücker (the Scab) by Heiner Müller, which features in the novel, itself based on Duelo a garrotazos ( ) by Goya.
Impressive and a strong International Booker contender.
Read
May 22, 2024Winner of the International Booker Prize 2024
Erpenbeck's importance has been overrated for quite some time in the English-speaking world, and that THIS is perceived as cutting-edge German-language fiction in the year 2024 is kind of...hilarious? In Germany, this novel won nothing, because it got nominated for nothing. Go figure.
Literature for non-Germans who hallucinate what German literature could be like.
EDIT: It did win the Uwe-Johnson-Prize, which is apparently a thing. Doesn't help the situation, though.
Erpenbeck's importance has been overrated for quite some time in the English-speaking world, and that THIS is perceived as cutting-edge German-language fiction in the year 2024 is kind of...hilarious? In Germany, this novel won nothing, because it got nominated for nothing. Go figure.
Literature for non-Germans who hallucinate what German literature could be like.
EDIT: It did win the Uwe-Johnson-Prize, which is apparently a thing. Doesn't help the situation, though.
January 29, 2025
Blip. Tsiek. Tick. Geen idee hoe een boek een lezer ineens aanspreekt met het verzoek: ‘Lees mij!�. In het geval van ‘Kairos.� van Jenny Erpenbeck weet ik dat ik in het afgelopen halfjaar via social media wel eens een cover of een paar sterren van iemand heb meegekregen. Blip. Tsiek. Maar waarom heb ik het boek uiteindelijk aangekocht? Tick. Vraag het me niet. De vraag is ondertussen overschaduwd door mijn enthousiasme. Het is lang geleden dat een auteur me tijdens het lezen nieuwe adem heeft gegeven. Dit (zal ik het zo noemen?) liefdesverhaal wordt door Erpenbeck op een manier verteld die ik niet eerder heb gelezen. Je krijgt de stem en de inzichten van de twintiger Katharina mee. Zij is de minnares van de decennia oudere schrijver Hans. Het decor is de Berliner Mauer en de ademnood van het eind van de jaren tachtig. Erpenbeck bepaalt op een magistrale manier het ritme en de melodie van dit boek. Vanaf de eerste regel heeft ze me meegenomen, en blip tsiek tick, dat gebeurt niet vaak.
‘Kairos.� is uit het Duits vertaald door Elly Schippers.
‘Kairos.� is uit het Duits vertaald door Elly Schippers.
August 8, 2024
I dragged myself to the finish line with this one. And now I don’t have the energy to get into why I found the journey to be so insufferable. I need a drink. And I say that as someone who rarely drinks anymore.
August 9, 2023
“Erpenbeck is a writer for ruminants�, I wrote after reading two previous of her works, 'Aller Tage Abend' () and 'Heimsuchung' (). Well, that ruminating business is less needed here. This novel is the more or less straightforward story of a love affair between a 19-year-old student Katharina and a 53-year-old married writer Hans, situated in Eastern Berlin between 1986 and 1996. Initially the passionate mutual attraction is charming, but it gradually becomes clear that this is a very unhealthy relationship: jealousy and sadomasochism become an intrinsic part of it, and yet the two remain riveted to each other. I must concede it made me feel very uncomfortable. To give just one example: they had their first sexual intercourse to the tones of Mozart's Requiem; I guess this says enough about the dark side of this passionate relationship.
A constant in Erpenbeck's work, and here again a fascinating element, is the link she makes with German history. The story begins in East Berlin in 1986 and ends after the fall of the Berlin Wall; flashbacks show both the Nazi war years and the early years of the Federal Republic and the German Democratic Republic; and in the end it are the painful aspects of the Wende of 1989-91 that are highlighted. The political story thus reinforces the uneasy evolution of the relationship between Katharina and Hans, and vice versa. It is as if the Erpenbeck wanted to indicate that there is no happy ending in both areas, the personal and the public.
That makes this book a rather gloomy novel. And the style reinforces that: it is written in a very detached tone, Katharina and Hans move almost mechanically, as without emotion. At one point the story even reminded me of the dark, stilled images in Wim Wenders' film 'Himmel über Berlin'. It is as if Erpenbeck wanted to emphasize the unease of both the relationship and the political Wende. I can't help it, but to me this didn't really resonated; despite the manifestly fascinating elements in the cocktail, this is a less successful Erpenbeck for me. But without hesitation she remains one of the most captivating German writers of the moment. (rating 2.5 stars)
A constant in Erpenbeck's work, and here again a fascinating element, is the link she makes with German history. The story begins in East Berlin in 1986 and ends after the fall of the Berlin Wall; flashbacks show both the Nazi war years and the early years of the Federal Republic and the German Democratic Republic; and in the end it are the painful aspects of the Wende of 1989-91 that are highlighted. The political story thus reinforces the uneasy evolution of the relationship between Katharina and Hans, and vice versa. It is as if the Erpenbeck wanted to indicate that there is no happy ending in both areas, the personal and the public.
That makes this book a rather gloomy novel. And the style reinforces that: it is written in a very detached tone, Katharina and Hans move almost mechanically, as without emotion. At one point the story even reminded me of the dark, stilled images in Wim Wenders' film 'Himmel über Berlin'. It is as if Erpenbeck wanted to emphasize the unease of both the relationship and the political Wende. I can't help it, but to me this didn't really resonated; despite the manifestly fascinating elements in the cocktail, this is a less successful Erpenbeck for me. But without hesitation she remains one of the most captivating German writers of the moment. (rating 2.5 stars)
January 7, 2025
Bir okurun en önemli “okur hakları”ndan birisi olan “kitabı bitirmeme� hakkımı kullanıyorum. Ancak şunu sormadan da geçmeyeceğim. “Gidiyor, Gitti, Gitmiş� yazarı Jenny Erpenbeck ile “Kairos� yazarı J. E. aynı kişi olabilir mi ?
İki Almanya’nın birleşmesinin zorluklarını, heyecanını ergen aşkına benzer absürd bir ilişki (aşk demiyorum) üzerine kurgulayıp üzerine biraz da “toplama kampları� dramı ekleyerek berbat bir anlatı ile sunmak okura saygısızlıktır. Cinsellik ile ilgili kullandığı kelimeler bile rahatsız edici, argo mu, porno mu belli değil.
Ödül almış bu kitap. Normaldir, çünkü ödüllerin nasıl verildiğini iyi biliyoruz. Neyse bitirmesem de okuduğum yarıdan fazlası için notum 1,5’dan 2.
İki Almanya’nın birleşmesinin zorluklarını, heyecanını ergen aşkına benzer absürd bir ilişki (aşk demiyorum) üzerine kurgulayıp üzerine biraz da “toplama kampları� dramı ekleyerek berbat bir anlatı ile sunmak okura saygısızlıktır. Cinsellik ile ilgili kullandığı kelimeler bile rahatsız edici, argo mu, porno mu belli değil.
Ödül almış bu kitap. Normaldir, çünkü ödüllerin nasıl verildiğini iyi biliyoruz. Neyse bitirmesem de okuduğum yarıdan fazlası için notum 1,5’dan 2.
November 21, 2024
A tale of obsession coupled to the end of a country. This sounds interesting enough, however this International Booker Prize winner often annoyed me and targets more the head than the heart
The marriage that threatens and attenuates their affair is also the ground that nourishes it.
is very much a read that takes time and almost seems to resist the reader through its dense language and alternating perspectives of Hans (53) and Katharina (19), both being rendered in a detached manner. In the structure of the novel Katharina is going through files of Hans, recently deceased, looking back at their lives. From coincidental beginnings and strong infatuation, to obsession and then control and breakdown, their relationships forms a mirror to the fate of the GDR in relationship to the people. I found this book hard to get through (maybe due to deliberately claustrophobia conjured by ?) and ended up untouched.
The title, Kairos, comes from Greek and relating to a right, critical and specific moment. This relates both to how the relationship started, by coincidence, involving a bus, as relating to the specific terminal moment in the history of East Germany.
The initial infatuation is well described, but nothing we haven't seen many, many times before. Hans is often mistaken for the father of Katharina, but overall he seems very comfortable in communism, traveling, engaging with the cultural field and eating in fine restaurants.
Katharina doesn't think about escaping to the West, as more and more of her friends do, but she does have family in the West which allows her a view of the outside world:
The sight of beggars outside the cathedral is less surprising to Kathrina today. Does one so quickly get used to being more fortunate than others?
There is some S&M and bride role-play, but only near the middle there is some movement and more drama, with Katharina going to Frankfurt in the East and interning in a theatre forming a flashpoint.
Both going to theaters in different cities, both keeping diaries, power play, obsession and struggle against being possessed. The way Hans tries to punish her, and her willingness to please and accept this, forms the heart of the second part of the book. This felt uncomfortable and more than a bit icky. Only the fact that the political situation comes back more into the narrative made this section slightly more interesting than the first part of the novel. There is a lot of hypocrisy, apparently not perceived by Hans, in his indignation and in general their relationship turns toxic. Even a trip to Moscow does not offer a shot at enduring happiness.
In general I found the ending of this book, situated just after the Wall fell, quite grim and uneven. I wonder if this is intentional? I don’t understand how nothing positive is described, except for the foreign travels. It must have been an exciting period for a 20 something like Katharina. Surely there is more to say than a rent increase from 130 to 900 marks about this period? Who is Ronald? Are we not getting any interiority in respect to the relationship with Rosa? Is there really a sudden abortion, if so why does do that so much better? Does she have a job as sex worker or am I misinterpreting?
Why do we have 250+ pages of nearly nothing happening and then this mad rush at the end?
A book I struggled with quite a bit, and of which I expected more beforehand. 2.5 stars rounded down.
Quotes
All these things are thought on this evening, and all together they make up a multi-faceted truth.
Is it only possible to really be yourself when no one knows who you are?
How to endure the way that the present trickles down moment by moment and becomes the past?
They give us just a piece of their lives, while for us they’re all there is.
Because everything is avoided that might make one of them sad, sadness suddenly comes to occupy a lot of space between them.
Without his marriage, there wouldn’t be the danger, the secrecy, the circumstances that give rise to yearning. Not the content of their love, but factors that energize and quicken it.
She sees him every day, they can talk. Yes, he says, but what really matters can’t be said.
Everything about his life at this time is provisional
Order is the fear of disorder.
What is not written down has not taken place
If he thinks of the word “love� it makes him want to vomit for the rest of his life.
Which of her feelings is genuine, and which does she perform for him - or for herself?
But being truthful without the possibility to say no was impossible
Is it right time become so warped like that?
Shouldn’t she know who she truly is?
The competition, she says to the bartender, is the whole world.
In the West he would have been a management consultant
The marriage that threatens and attenuates their affair is also the ground that nourishes it.
is very much a read that takes time and almost seems to resist the reader through its dense language and alternating perspectives of Hans (53) and Katharina (19), both being rendered in a detached manner. In the structure of the novel Katharina is going through files of Hans, recently deceased, looking back at their lives. From coincidental beginnings and strong infatuation, to obsession and then control and breakdown, their relationships forms a mirror to the fate of the GDR in relationship to the people. I found this book hard to get through (maybe due to deliberately claustrophobia conjured by ?) and ended up untouched.
The title, Kairos, comes from Greek and relating to a right, critical and specific moment. This relates both to how the relationship started, by coincidence, involving a bus, as relating to the specific terminal moment in the history of East Germany.
The initial infatuation is well described, but nothing we haven't seen many, many times before. Hans is often mistaken for the father of Katharina, but overall he seems very comfortable in communism, traveling, engaging with the cultural field and eating in fine restaurants.
Katharina doesn't think about escaping to the West, as more and more of her friends do, but she does have family in the West which allows her a view of the outside world:
The sight of beggars outside the cathedral is less surprising to Kathrina today. Does one so quickly get used to being more fortunate than others?
There is some S&M and bride role-play, but only near the middle there is some movement and more drama, with Katharina going to Frankfurt in the East and interning in a theatre forming a flashpoint.
Both going to theaters in different cities, both keeping diaries, power play, obsession and struggle against being possessed. The way Hans tries to punish her, and her willingness to please and accept this, forms the heart of the second part of the book. This felt uncomfortable and more than a bit icky. Only the fact that the political situation comes back more into the narrative made this section slightly more interesting than the first part of the novel. There is a lot of hypocrisy, apparently not perceived by Hans, in his indignation and in general their relationship turns toxic. Even a trip to Moscow does not offer a shot at enduring happiness.
In general I found the ending of this book, situated just after the Wall fell, quite grim and uneven. I wonder if this is intentional? I don’t understand how nothing positive is described, except for the foreign travels. It must have been an exciting period for a 20 something like Katharina. Surely there is more to say than a rent increase from 130 to 900 marks about this period? Who is Ronald? Are we not getting any interiority in respect to the relationship with Rosa? Is there really a sudden abortion, if so why does do that so much better? Does she have a job as sex worker or am I misinterpreting?
Why do we have 250+ pages of nearly nothing happening and then this mad rush at the end?
A book I struggled with quite a bit, and of which I expected more beforehand. 2.5 stars rounded down.
Quotes
All these things are thought on this evening, and all together they make up a multi-faceted truth.
Is it only possible to really be yourself when no one knows who you are?
How to endure the way that the present trickles down moment by moment and becomes the past?
They give us just a piece of their lives, while for us they’re all there is.
Because everything is avoided that might make one of them sad, sadness suddenly comes to occupy a lot of space between them.
Without his marriage, there wouldn’t be the danger, the secrecy, the circumstances that give rise to yearning. Not the content of their love, but factors that energize and quicken it.
She sees him every day, they can talk. Yes, he says, but what really matters can’t be said.
Everything about his life at this time is provisional
Order is the fear of disorder.
What is not written down has not taken place
If he thinks of the word “love� it makes him want to vomit for the rest of his life.
Which of her feelings is genuine, and which does she perform for him - or for herself?
But being truthful without the possibility to say no was impossible
Is it right time become so warped like that?
Shouldn’t she know who she truly is?
The competition, she says to the bartender, is the whole world.
In the West he would have been a management consultant
May 31, 2024
"Kairos" von Jenny Erpenbeck war für mich eine große Enttäuschung. "Gehen, ging, gegangen" habe ich gerne gelesen. Das war zwar nicht herausragend, aber solide und unterhaltsam. Die Kritiken zu "Kairos" haben mich 2021 davon abgehalten, den Roman zu lesen. Nach der Auszeichnung mit dem "International Booker Prize" habe ich mich jetzt doch noch für die Lektüre entschieden.
Bekommen habe ich eine ziemlich langweilige Liebesgeschichte. Die zufällige Affäre zwischen der neunzehnjährigen Katharina und dem Schriftsteller Hans, der Mitte fünfzig ist und beim Rundfunk arbeitet, wird erzählt. Die beiden treffen sich das erste Mal am 11. Juli 1986 in Ostberlin. Nach knapp der Hälfte des Romans ist ein ziemlich dröges Jahr vorbei. In der zweiten Hälfte ändern sich zwar Lebensumstände und auch die Beziehung, doch die Ereignisse wirkten weiterhin eigentümlich belanglos, als wenn die Autorin selbst sich nicht für ihre Charaktere interessiert. Nach gut fünf Jahren ist die Geschichte endlich vorbei.
Ich hatte auch den Eindruck, dass kulturelle Bildung (z.B. Bach, Beethoven, Brecht, Eisler, Kafka, Thomas Mann, Lenin oder Marx) hier vor allem Status-Symbol ist und der Geschichte kaum dient. So hört man gemeinsam die "Matthäus-Passion" und zählt an einer dramatischen Stelle die Noten. "Auf fünfzehn Noten verteilt Bach das Bereuen des Petrus." Wenn es ans Lagerfeuer geht, dann wird Velvet Underground gespielt. Warum? Vielleicht weil die Autorin mit den realistischeren Optionen wie Beatles oder Dylan nicht genug angeben kann?
Ich könnte über diese Arroganz, dieses leider sehr häufig auftretende bildungsbürgerliche Geschwätz hinwegsehen, wenn es denn irgend etwas Interessantes an der Liebesgeschichte gäbe. Wenn man die Angeberei abzieht, bleibt aber vor allem Trivialität. Im letzten Viertel des Buches kommen noch peinlich kitschige Stellen hinzu, die den Eindruck der Trivialität verstärken. Das ist bedauerlich zumal Erpenbeck über eine präzise Sprache und einen guten Blick für Details verfügt. Die 80er Jahre in der DDR sind hier durchaus plastisch dargestellt. Doch was bringt eine gut beschriebene Welt, wenn die Geschichte, die sich dort abspielt, nichts taugt.
Dieser Roman ist wie ein Film mit tollen Kulissen, einer guten Ausstattung und passenden Kostümen. Leider ist aber das Drehbuch sehr schlecht. Die Regisseurin ruft ihren Hauptdarstellern in einem überheblichen Ton zu: "Denkt dran, die Noten in der Matthäus-Passion zu zählen!" Die Schauspieler nicken und denken: "Was für ein Quatsch!"
Bekommen habe ich eine ziemlich langweilige Liebesgeschichte. Die zufällige Affäre zwischen der neunzehnjährigen Katharina und dem Schriftsteller Hans, der Mitte fünfzig ist und beim Rundfunk arbeitet, wird erzählt. Die beiden treffen sich das erste Mal am 11. Juli 1986 in Ostberlin. Nach knapp der Hälfte des Romans ist ein ziemlich dröges Jahr vorbei. In der zweiten Hälfte ändern sich zwar Lebensumstände und auch die Beziehung, doch die Ereignisse wirkten weiterhin eigentümlich belanglos, als wenn die Autorin selbst sich nicht für ihre Charaktere interessiert. Nach gut fünf Jahren ist die Geschichte endlich vorbei.
Ich hatte auch den Eindruck, dass kulturelle Bildung (z.B. Bach, Beethoven, Brecht, Eisler, Kafka, Thomas Mann, Lenin oder Marx) hier vor allem Status-Symbol ist und der Geschichte kaum dient. So hört man gemeinsam die "Matthäus-Passion" und zählt an einer dramatischen Stelle die Noten. "Auf fünfzehn Noten verteilt Bach das Bereuen des Petrus." Wenn es ans Lagerfeuer geht, dann wird Velvet Underground gespielt. Warum? Vielleicht weil die Autorin mit den realistischeren Optionen wie Beatles oder Dylan nicht genug angeben kann?
Ich könnte über diese Arroganz, dieses leider sehr häufig auftretende bildungsbürgerliche Geschwätz hinwegsehen, wenn es denn irgend etwas Interessantes an der Liebesgeschichte gäbe. Wenn man die Angeberei abzieht, bleibt aber vor allem Trivialität. Im letzten Viertel des Buches kommen noch peinlich kitschige Stellen hinzu, die den Eindruck der Trivialität verstärken. Das ist bedauerlich zumal Erpenbeck über eine präzise Sprache und einen guten Blick für Details verfügt. Die 80er Jahre in der DDR sind hier durchaus plastisch dargestellt. Doch was bringt eine gut beschriebene Welt, wenn die Geschichte, die sich dort abspielt, nichts taugt.
Dieser Roman ist wie ein Film mit tollen Kulissen, einer guten Ausstattung und passenden Kostümen. Leider ist aber das Drehbuch sehr schlecht. Die Regisseurin ruft ihren Hauptdarstellern in einem überheblichen Ton zu: "Denkt dran, die Noten in der Matthäus-Passion zu zählen!" Die Schauspieler nicken und denken: "Was für ein Quatsch!"
February 11, 2024
Ay resmen nefes alamıyorum, epeydir bu kadar klostrofobik bir metin okumamıştım. 15 yıl evvel Varolmanın Dayanılmaz Hafifliği’ni okurken hissettiğim “biri şu an boğazımı sıkıyor� duygusunu yaşadım resmen yeniden. Ancak o zaman edebi bir haz almıştım, bu defa aldım mı emin değilim.
Jenny Erpenbeck’i çok seviyorum ve yaşayan Alman yazarlar arasında en heyecan verici olanların başında geldiğini düşünüyorum. Bu fikrim bâki ama bu kitabı sahiden pek acayip ve bugüne dek okuduğum hiçbir eserine benzemiyor. Benzeyen yanları var elbette; her eserinde olduğu gibi bunda da arkaya devasa bir toplumsal panorama yerleştirmiş olması mesela. 1986’da başlıyor öykü ve Berlin duvarının yakılması ve iki Almanya’nın birleşmesine giden süreci takip ediyoruz arkada.
Peki önde ne oluyor? İşte acayip olan o. 19 yaşındaki Katharina’nın 53 yaşındaki Hans ile yaşadığı ilişkiyi izliyoruz. Adam evli, kadın genç ve meraklı. Üzerinde gençliğin getirdiği o müdanasızlık ve cesaret var, ne kadar canının acıyabileceğini kestirmeden dalıyor ilişkiye ve yıllar süren, olağanüstü toksik ve manipülatif bir işin içinde buluyor kendini. Hans kötü biri mi, bence değil, zayıflığını gizlemek için korkunç güç gösterileri yapmaya hazır sıradan biri. Canı acıdıkça acımasızlaşan, aşkı bir tür tahakküm biçimi gibi gören o adamlardan biri ve bence bu adamlardan sandığımızdan çok daha fazla var etrafımızda.
Katharina’nın Hans’a duyduğu tekinsiz, gözü kapalı bağlılığı yazarın öyküyü koyduğu fonla beraber okumalı şüphesiz. İnsanların devletlerine, liderlerine duyduğu o körlemesine aşka dair bir alegori gibi aslında bu ilişki. Şiddeti meşrulaştırma, denetimi güvenlik sanma, prangayı aidiyetle karıştırma - hem ”büyük aşk”larda, hem idealize edilmiş vatanseverlik iddialarında karşımıza çıkan tuzaklar bunlar.Zaten yazarın ikilinin ilişkisini sürekli Alman tarihi ve kültüründen motiflerle anlatması da tesadüf değil şüphesiz.
Neyse, ezcümle, pek tuhaf, pek rahatsız edici bir roman Kairos. Erpenbeck’in dili de bir farklı bu metinde, kesik kesik yazışı insanı iyice huzursuz ediyor. Yakın zamanda Talât Sait Halman Çeviri Ödülü’nü kazanan Regaip Minareci çevirisi ise sahiden kusursuz.
Beni mahvetti ama bence okuyun!
Jenny Erpenbeck’i çok seviyorum ve yaşayan Alman yazarlar arasında en heyecan verici olanların başında geldiğini düşünüyorum. Bu fikrim bâki ama bu kitabı sahiden pek acayip ve bugüne dek okuduğum hiçbir eserine benzemiyor. Benzeyen yanları var elbette; her eserinde olduğu gibi bunda da arkaya devasa bir toplumsal panorama yerleştirmiş olması mesela. 1986’da başlıyor öykü ve Berlin duvarının yakılması ve iki Almanya’nın birleşmesine giden süreci takip ediyoruz arkada.
Peki önde ne oluyor? İşte acayip olan o. 19 yaşındaki Katharina’nın 53 yaşındaki Hans ile yaşadığı ilişkiyi izliyoruz. Adam evli, kadın genç ve meraklı. Üzerinde gençliğin getirdiği o müdanasızlık ve cesaret var, ne kadar canının acıyabileceğini kestirmeden dalıyor ilişkiye ve yıllar süren, olağanüstü toksik ve manipülatif bir işin içinde buluyor kendini. Hans kötü biri mi, bence değil, zayıflığını gizlemek için korkunç güç gösterileri yapmaya hazır sıradan biri. Canı acıdıkça acımasızlaşan, aşkı bir tür tahakküm biçimi gibi gören o adamlardan biri ve bence bu adamlardan sandığımızdan çok daha fazla var etrafımızda.
Katharina’nın Hans’a duyduğu tekinsiz, gözü kapalı bağlılığı yazarın öyküyü koyduğu fonla beraber okumalı şüphesiz. İnsanların devletlerine, liderlerine duyduğu o körlemesine aşka dair bir alegori gibi aslında bu ilişki. Şiddeti meşrulaştırma, denetimi güvenlik sanma, prangayı aidiyetle karıştırma - hem ”büyük aşk”larda, hem idealize edilmiş vatanseverlik iddialarında karşımıza çıkan tuzaklar bunlar.Zaten yazarın ikilinin ilişkisini sürekli Alman tarihi ve kültüründen motiflerle anlatması da tesadüf değil şüphesiz.
Neyse, ezcümle, pek tuhaf, pek rahatsız edici bir roman Kairos. Erpenbeck’in dili de bir farklı bu metinde, kesik kesik yazışı insanı iyice huzursuz ediyor. Yakın zamanda Talât Sait Halman Çeviri Ödülü’nü kazanan Regaip Minareci çevirisi ise sahiden kusursuz.
Beni mahvetti ama bence okuyun!
July 6, 2024
This was a massive reading experience, almost like being held hostage in the past!
Imagine a private drama unfolding on the Titanic, and you are the voyeuristic beholder from the future. You know the ship is sinking, and yet you identify with all the people and things gathered on that floating collapse-in-the-making. This is the Titanic of Berlin in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
While the state crumbles, a young girl tries to grow up, confusedly attaching herself to the old patterns of thought and simultaneously breaking free, a movement of waves on the stormy, yet quiet ocean. Fearing the storm but missing the iceberg in plain sight. Surviving comes at a cost. Life as it used to be sinks into the deep ocean of surreal history.
The toxic love story between a treacherous, manipulative old man and a young, still unformed woman fits the setting perfectly, individual corruption mirroring the breakdown of a state. And what is rising like Phoenix from the ashes? A new, old, strange, familiar dilemma under a different banner.
Freedom comes at a cost too. Being safe on the sinking ship may be a doomed illusion, but swimming in the ocean is a harsh new reality to wake up to as well. And lifejackets have to be paid for in hard currency. There are not enough lifeboats for every swimmer. Another Brave Old World is waiting on the shores, and it has such people innit! The Tempest is forever present!
What an extraordinary book!
Imagine a private drama unfolding on the Titanic, and you are the voyeuristic beholder from the future. You know the ship is sinking, and yet you identify with all the people and things gathered on that floating collapse-in-the-making. This is the Titanic of Berlin in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
While the state crumbles, a young girl tries to grow up, confusedly attaching herself to the old patterns of thought and simultaneously breaking free, a movement of waves on the stormy, yet quiet ocean. Fearing the storm but missing the iceberg in plain sight. Surviving comes at a cost. Life as it used to be sinks into the deep ocean of surreal history.
The toxic love story between a treacherous, manipulative old man and a young, still unformed woman fits the setting perfectly, individual corruption mirroring the breakdown of a state. And what is rising like Phoenix from the ashes? A new, old, strange, familiar dilemma under a different banner.
Freedom comes at a cost too. Being safe on the sinking ship may be a doomed illusion, but swimming in the ocean is a harsh new reality to wake up to as well. And lifejackets have to be paid for in hard currency. There are not enough lifeboats for every swimmer. Another Brave Old World is waiting on the shores, and it has such people innit! The Tempest is forever present!
What an extraordinary book!
April 7, 2024
Well well well. I really hated this. It is one of most densely and difficultly written books I’ve read and probably the one I’ve enjoyed the least this year.
It’s about a student named Katherine who starts an affair with a man who randomly follows her off a bus who turns out to also have a wife and kid. Girly deludes herself into thinking he’s the love of her life to the point where she literally crashes his family holiday just to see him. And then instead of being like wtf he has sex with her and starts tying her to the bedpost and literally leaves her there so he can sit in the other room and smoke????
Anyway that’s all in the first 70 pages. It just gets worse. They are both so insufferable. Like he is literally just a man. And the prose was so unreadable that I don’t think half of the story even made it into my head.
If this gets shortlisted for the IB I will lose faith in humanity, to be honest I’m already on the edge with the fact that this was longlisted.
It’s about a student named Katherine who starts an affair with a man who randomly follows her off a bus who turns out to also have a wife and kid. Girly deludes herself into thinking he’s the love of her life to the point where she literally crashes his family holiday just to see him. And then instead of being like wtf he has sex with her and starts tying her to the bedpost and literally leaves her there so he can sit in the other room and smoke????
Anyway that’s all in the first 70 pages. It just gets worse. They are both so insufferable. Like he is literally just a man. And the prose was so unreadable that I don’t think half of the story even made it into my head.
If this gets shortlisted for the IB I will lose faith in humanity, to be honest I’m already on the edge with the fact that this was longlisted.
June 17, 2023
I like books that have a prologue and an epilogue, if they're reasonably short and interestingly written. This novel had both, and they did intrigue. I mean, what a way to start: Will you come to my funeral? We know almost immediately then that the asker and the askee had a relationship and, seemingly, this question is asked as the relationship is ending. And what, I needed to know, was the woman to whom the question was asked doing in Pittsburgh???
The story itself is about a toxic relationship. Katharina is just 19. Hans is ten years older than her father. They meet on a bus; love at first sight. That was hard for this reader to figure, partly because the author never describes any character physically. We know what they wear, but not whether anyone is tall or short, thin or heavy, blonde or dark. We do know Hans is a chain-smoker with a yellowed finger, but surely that isn't why Katharina slept with him that first night.
We also know that Hans is married, a father, and a serial adulterer. He will be prone to the usual jealousies. His treatment of Katharina will turn physically and mentally abusive. He's beyond creepy; a monster, really. What boggles, though, is that Katharina endures it. And I'm not sure if the author was telling us she was a masochist, or just teasing us enough to make us wonder.
Anyhow, the setting for this "love" story is East Berlin and the time immediately before and after the Fall of the Wall. It is this setting which I suppose was meant to give the story its gravitas, and push it beyond the occasional spankings.
The epilogue does not, as most epilogues do, tidy things up for us. What it does is connect the story with its setting. And it makes us wonder what we really know about anyone else, even someone we love.
And I can't end this review without sharing this: And the tag on one of the toes. Isn't that what toes are for?
The story itself is about a toxic relationship. Katharina is just 19. Hans is ten years older than her father. They meet on a bus; love at first sight. That was hard for this reader to figure, partly because the author never describes any character physically. We know what they wear, but not whether anyone is tall or short, thin or heavy, blonde or dark. We do know Hans is a chain-smoker with a yellowed finger, but surely that isn't why Katharina slept with him that first night.
We also know that Hans is married, a father, and a serial adulterer. He will be prone to the usual jealousies. His treatment of Katharina will turn physically and mentally abusive. He's beyond creepy; a monster, really. What boggles, though, is that Katharina endures it. And I'm not sure if the author was telling us she was a masochist, or just teasing us enough to make us wonder.
Anyhow, the setting for this "love" story is East Berlin and the time immediately before and after the Fall of the Wall. It is this setting which I suppose was meant to give the story its gravitas, and push it beyond the occasional spankings.
The epilogue does not, as most epilogues do, tidy things up for us. What it does is connect the story with its setting. And it makes us wonder what we really know about anyone else, even someone we love.
And I can't end this review without sharing this: And the tag on one of the toes. Isn't that what toes are for?
September 21, 2023
I had been looking forward to this book, assuming it would be a serious historical novel about life under the oppressive East German regime under Honnecker, and it's subsequent fall.
What in fact I got was an overly romanticised pro Russian depiction of life in the communist East, criticism of the West materialism and decay, and an unrealistic and absurd love story between two rather despicable characters with very questionable behaviours.
Throughout the book you are left feeling that the whole story is completely unrealistic; a young attractive balanced 19 year old student and a married man in his fifties 'fall in love at first sight' on a #57 bus going home. They then in broad daylight go back to his place in view of neighbours, make love in the marital bed, and then subsequently frequent high profile and very public restaurants and cafe's...even though they agree to be discreet!! This at a time when informants were rife and the Stasi would be very interested in any behaviour that might be able to compromise an individual. Furthermore the girls parents, rather than being shocked by the affair, actually condone the unsuitable match.
The affair then progresses in its intensity, with the girl 'stalking' the man and his family whilst on holiday...enabling them to make love amongst the dunes a few yards away from the wife and son!
It then takes a dramatic turn as Katharina writes a note about her 'fling' with a student in Frankfurt and leaves the incriminating piece on her desk for Hans to find. What follows is cruel systematic psychological and physical abuse, portrayed in great detail which K just limply accepts due to her obvious and overwhelming sense of misplaced guilt.
I could go on and on, but basically the book now becomes a tale of control, manipulation, guilt throwing and receiving, and physical and mental abuse towards K, amongst constant references to obscure poets, writers and artists.
The book culminates with the fall of the Berlin Wall which supposedly only brings negative consequences and is largely undesirable.
Overall the book may be allegorical....The East German people living in a sado-masochistic relationship with their oppressive regime, unable to escape, but apparently loving them all the same....in the same way that K accepts the abuse from H and never even imagines leaving him, or seeking help from friends or family. Of course there are hints that this is all caused by the dysfunctional relationship and experiences of Hans as a child with his Nazi father and the fall of Hitler, and possibly the need for a father figure for Katharina, after her father left for Leipzig, but really?
This is an incredibly disappointing and inaccurate rewriting of history with little attention to the realities of life under the GDR and the Stasi at the time, the failure of Communism and the Soviet experiment, or the thousands who were killed, tortured or imprisoned under the regime. It is true that many Ozzies now appear to romanticise sentimentally the 'so called good times' in the East, rationalising and forgetting the realities of oppression, lack of freedom of speech, intrusion, food and material shortages etc and indeed a life of fear and injustice which thousands tried to vainly escape.
If you want a book about a weird unrealistic sado-masochistic relationship set in a world that really did not exist, then this is for you. I am sure that Erpenbeck has found many 'left behind' in the East as well as intellectual left wingers to appreciate what was for me "Terrible Book". I didn't help that once again some modern writers feel it is fashionable to leave out punctuation, but i could forgive that if the content had been 'serious', meaningful and historically accurate. Frankly it is an insult to the West, to the billions invested in East Germany, and above all the millions whose lives were severely affected by more than 40 years living within the Soviet Empire.
What in fact I got was an overly romanticised pro Russian depiction of life in the communist East, criticism of the West materialism and decay, and an unrealistic and absurd love story between two rather despicable characters with very questionable behaviours.
Throughout the book you are left feeling that the whole story is completely unrealistic; a young attractive balanced 19 year old student and a married man in his fifties 'fall in love at first sight' on a #57 bus going home. They then in broad daylight go back to his place in view of neighbours, make love in the marital bed, and then subsequently frequent high profile and very public restaurants and cafe's...even though they agree to be discreet!! This at a time when informants were rife and the Stasi would be very interested in any behaviour that might be able to compromise an individual. Furthermore the girls parents, rather than being shocked by the affair, actually condone the unsuitable match.
The affair then progresses in its intensity, with the girl 'stalking' the man and his family whilst on holiday...enabling them to make love amongst the dunes a few yards away from the wife and son!
It then takes a dramatic turn as Katharina writes a note about her 'fling' with a student in Frankfurt and leaves the incriminating piece on her desk for Hans to find. What follows is cruel systematic psychological and physical abuse, portrayed in great detail which K just limply accepts due to her obvious and overwhelming sense of misplaced guilt.
I could go on and on, but basically the book now becomes a tale of control, manipulation, guilt throwing and receiving, and physical and mental abuse towards K, amongst constant references to obscure poets, writers and artists.
The book culminates with the fall of the Berlin Wall which supposedly only brings negative consequences and is largely undesirable.
Overall the book may be allegorical....The East German people living in a sado-masochistic relationship with their oppressive regime, unable to escape, but apparently loving them all the same....in the same way that K accepts the abuse from H and never even imagines leaving him, or seeking help from friends or family. Of course there are hints that this is all caused by the dysfunctional relationship and experiences of Hans as a child with his Nazi father and the fall of Hitler, and possibly the need for a father figure for Katharina, after her father left for Leipzig, but really?
This is an incredibly disappointing and inaccurate rewriting of history with little attention to the realities of life under the GDR and the Stasi at the time, the failure of Communism and the Soviet experiment, or the thousands who were killed, tortured or imprisoned under the regime. It is true that many Ozzies now appear to romanticise sentimentally the 'so called good times' in the East, rationalising and forgetting the realities of oppression, lack of freedom of speech, intrusion, food and material shortages etc and indeed a life of fear and injustice which thousands tried to vainly escape.
If you want a book about a weird unrealistic sado-masochistic relationship set in a world that really did not exist, then this is for you. I am sure that Erpenbeck has found many 'left behind' in the East as well as intellectual left wingers to appreciate what was for me "Terrible Book". I didn't help that once again some modern writers feel it is fashionable to leave out punctuation, but i could forgive that if the content had been 'serious', meaningful and historically accurate. Frankly it is an insult to the West, to the billions invested in East Germany, and above all the millions whose lives were severely affected by more than 40 years living within the Soviet Empire.
May 29, 2024
KAIROS begins in the late 1980s Berlin, a few years before the Wall came down. The more you know about Soviet/German/Cold War history, the more you’ll glean the allusive and metaphorical parallels and references between the torrid love affair at the center of the plot and the years leading up to the end of the split between East and West Germany. My understanding comes mostly from novels and a visit (and a few tours) of Berlin several years ago. I am no scholar, but I enjoyed a 4 star’s worth. So don’t consider my review any more than the cyber-paper it is written on!
Nineteen-year-old high-spirited Katharina meets fifty-something Hans at a tram stop; they both fall deeply and madly for each other. Katharina is still in the midst of her artistic studies and Hans, a novelist, is married with a son, and a serial philanderer. His possession of Katharina is so complete that there were times that I could barely breathe. They cross the line into toxic. Both have their own feelings of guilt, including their complicated sense of allegiance to their country.
The prose is lyrical, often poetic, and moving.
“Does the East, which so far has been her element, cease to exist the moment she can no longer see it?... Or is this gray station endowed with the power to hold two different sorts of time, two competing presents, two everyday realities, one serving as the other’s netherworld? But then where is she, when she stands on the borderline? It is called no-man’s-land because someone wandering in it no longer has any idea who he is?�
I actually started reading this book just hours before it was announced as the International Booker Prize winner!!! Kudos to translator Michael Hofmann for a seamless translation.
Nineteen-year-old high-spirited Katharina meets fifty-something Hans at a tram stop; they both fall deeply and madly for each other. Katharina is still in the midst of her artistic studies and Hans, a novelist, is married with a son, and a serial philanderer. His possession of Katharina is so complete that there were times that I could barely breathe. They cross the line into toxic. Both have their own feelings of guilt, including their complicated sense of allegiance to their country.
The prose is lyrical, often poetic, and moving.
“Does the East, which so far has been her element, cease to exist the moment she can no longer see it?... Or is this gray station endowed with the power to hold two different sorts of time, two competing presents, two everyday realities, one serving as the other’s netherworld? But then where is she, when she stands on the borderline? It is called no-man’s-land because someone wandering in it no longer has any idea who he is?�
I actually started reading this book just hours before it was announced as the International Booker Prize winner!!! Kudos to translator Michael Hofmann for a seamless translation.
June 18, 2024
Zo.
Daarmee hebben we het meest hatelijke literaire personage van de afgelopen jaren ook gehad.
Wat een eikel, die Hans.
Wat een irritante zelfingenomen blaas.
Het is de Mùùr, Hans, niet de Evenaar die door Oost-Berlijn loopt.
Door je reet en door je miezerige bestaan.
Dit gezegd zijnde: ‘Kairos� zou over de liefde gaan.
Dan toch die van de (zelf)destructieve soort.
De volkomen onevenwichtige relatie tussen Katharina en de meer dan dertig jaar oudere Hans begint met een behoorlijk onwaarschijnlijke ontmoeting, laait even hoog op, maar brandt al vlug richting meedogenloze vernietiging van de arme negentienjarige.
Aan de hand van twee archiefdozen vol ‘platte producten� kijkt ze vele jaren later - en na de dood van haar predator - terug op de ontluisterende periode van hun verbintenis.
Voor en na de val.
Van de Muur. Van haar zelfbeeld. Van haar eigenwaarde.
En van de hoge verwachtingen die ik had van dit boek.
Daarmee hebben we het meest hatelijke literaire personage van de afgelopen jaren ook gehad.
Wat een eikel, die Hans.
Wat een irritante zelfingenomen blaas.
Het is de Mùùr, Hans, niet de Evenaar die door Oost-Berlijn loopt.
Door je reet en door je miezerige bestaan.
Dit gezegd zijnde: ‘Kairos� zou over de liefde gaan.
Dan toch die van de (zelf)destructieve soort.
De volkomen onevenwichtige relatie tussen Katharina en de meer dan dertig jaar oudere Hans begint met een behoorlijk onwaarschijnlijke ontmoeting, laait even hoog op, maar brandt al vlug richting meedogenloze vernietiging van de arme negentienjarige.
Aan de hand van twee archiefdozen vol ‘platte producten� kijkt ze vele jaren later - en na de dood van haar predator - terug op de ontluisterende periode van hun verbintenis.
Voor en na de val.
Van de Muur. Van haar zelfbeeld. Van haar eigenwaarde.
En van de hoge verwachtingen die ik had van dit boek.
September 10, 2023
I read KAIROS in German. For me as a German who had a strong connection to Berlin most of my life, I found the novel very powerful and valuable in exploring the diverse and often contradictory perspectives of the City divided and the aftermath. A rather unique portrait of Berlin and people living with its complexities.
Want to read
May 22, 2024
October 13, 2021
Da ist sie also noch einmal, die große, die analoge Liebesgeschichte, die Liebesgeschichte, die nicht auf der Ökonomisierung der Gefühle und die Effektivität der Algorithmen setzt, auf Berechenbarkeit und Effizienz, sondern jene Liebesgeschichte, die davon erzählt, was das eigentlich bedeutet, das Sich-Einlassen, der Fall ins Freie, ohne Netz und doppelten Boden. Und der immer � immer? � auch schon die Möglichkeit des Scheiterns innewohnt. Und da dies eine Liebesgeschichte aus den letzten Jahren der DDR ist, und da sie in die neue Zeit nach der sogenannten Wende hineinreicht, ist es auch die Geschichte einer Korruption, der Korruption der eigenen Gefühle und des äußeren Antriebs durch eine Veränderung, die so niemand hatte voraussehen können in den Jahren 1986, 87 oder 88. Es ist die Liebe eines jungen Mädchens, einer jungen Frau, besser so, und eines viel älteren Mannes. Eines verheirateten Mannes, eines privilegierten Mannes, gerade in einem Staat, der seine Bewohner einsperrt, gängelt, manipuliert und im Zweifelsfall tötet.
Und wer nun hat sie geschrieben, diese Liebesgeschichte? Jenny Erpenbeck. Jenny Erpenbeck hat uns allen, allen deutschen und deutschsprachigen Lesern, noch einmal eine solch wunderbare und grausame Liebesgeschichte geschenkt. KAIROS (2021) heißt ihr Roman. Und es ist ein Roman, der aufs Ganze geht, der die Schönheit des geglückten Moments ebenso zu erfassen versteht, wie er die Abgründe, die Ecken und die Schatten ausleuchtet, in denen das Mißtrauen wächst, der Verrat und die Verachtung. Welch ein Wurf!
Es sind die 19jährige Katharina und der längst die 50 überschritten habende Hans, ein in der DDR gefeierter Schriftsteller, die sich im Bus begegnen, einander anblicken und ineinander etwas sehen, was beide, ein jeder für sich, so noch nie in einem Menschen gesehen haben. Und so beginnt es und es ist gut. Auch wenn Hans verheiratet ist, einen jugendlichen Sohn hat, etliche Affären hinter sich und vielleicht nicht mehr so viel Zeit vor sich � Gedanken, die einem mit Mitte 50 dann doch gelegentlich kommen und die eine noch nicht 20jährige vielleicht nicht verstehen kann. Und vielleicht ist es ja gerade dies, die Jugend, das Nicht-verstehen-Können, das Gefühl der Jüngeren, die Zeit, die Welt, das ganze Leben und alles darüber hinaus vor sich zu haben, das für Hans unter anderem so verführerisch ist. Und doch, daran bleibt kein Zweifel auf diesen 370 Seiten, ist diese Liebe echt. Ist echt in all ihren Fehlbarkeiten, der Unfairness, die immer mit einem solchen Altersgefälle einhergeht.
In einer manchmal fast spröden Sprache, zurückhaltend, vorsichtig, skrupulös sich den Gefühlen, Ansichten, Meinungen diesen beiden Menschen nähernden Sprache, erzählt Jenny Erpenbeck von der Zeit, die sie miteinander verbringen, davon, wie das Außen, ein Land, das nahezu im Stillstand, in der Reglosigkeit, angekommen scheint, starr, nahezu komplett in den Hintergrund tritt. Und lässt dabei doch auch ein spürbares, lebendiges Bild dieser letzten Jahre eines grauen Landes entstehen, ein Bild das wiedererkennt, der die DDR ein wenig kannte, vor allem die späte DDR. Sie erzählt aber auch davon, wie sich die Wirklichkeit, die politische, gesellschaftliche Realität eben doch immer wieder in den privatesten Bereich vorschiebt, nicht zu ignorieren ist.
Sie erzählt von Hans Träumen, die er mit vielen Intellektuellen seiner Generation geteilt hat � von den Hoffnungen, nach den Schrecken des 3. Reichs und nach der Erkenntnis der Schuld, der fürchterlichen, nicht abtragbaren Schuld, die dieses Volk auf sich geladen hat, etwas Besseres aufzubauen. Sie erzählt von Hans´ Helden � Eisler, Brecht, jenen, die unter Lebensgefahr gegen das Unrechtsregime gekämpft haben und schließlich ein anderes Unrechtsregime, wenn auch nicht vergleichbar dem ersten, errichteten. Hans führt Katharina in die Welt der klassischen Musik ein und findet sie dort, die von Haus aus längst um all das weiß. Bildung, auch davon wird hier berichtet, kann der berühmte Festungsgürtel gegen die Masse in sich selbst sein, wie Canetti es einmal genannt hat. Bildung ist in einer Beziehung wie der zwischen Katharina und Hans und unter den Bedingungen, die ein Staat wie die DDR bietet, zumutet, eine solch wesentliche Möglichkeit der Selbstvergewisserung, aber auch der Individualität. Ob die griechische Mythologie oder Mozarts Requiem � es ist auch ein Festhalten an Tugenden der Bürgerlichkeit und auch ein Privileg Privilegierter, die beide sind, generationenübergreifend.
Und Erpenbeck erzählt von den manchmal so kühnen Träumen die Liebende miteinander verbinden und die sie teilen: Ein eigenes Heim, ein Kind, ein Leben, eine Zukunft. All das auch dann, wenn es den Widrigkeiten der Wirklichkeit diametral entgegensteht. Der manchmal verzweifelte Versuch, den Kairos, den glücklichen Moment, der doch immer nur Augenblick sein kann, ins Unendliche zu strecken. Sie erzählt davon, wie das Gefälle vom Älteren zur Jüngeren in diesen Träumen immer auch eine Hürde, ein Hindernis, darstellt, das zu überwinden Kraft kostet, zu viel davon, möglicherweise.
Und während Hans sich ausbedingt, daß Katharina auf die Bedingungen seines Lebens Rücksicht nimmt, kann er ihr einen einzigen Fehltritt � sie geht für ein Jahr nach Rostock, um ein Praktikum am dortigen Theater zu absolvieren und verbringt eine Nacht mit einem Kollegen � nicht verzeihen. Und wie er daraufhin beginnt, die Beziehung, aber auch den Charakter seiner jungen Geliebten zu dekonstruieren. Und mehr und mehr entpuppt sich da nicht nur ein eitler, ein selbstgerechter und auch zunehmend hässlicher Geist, der seine intellektuelle Überlegenheit nutzt, um die emotionalen Defizite zu übertünchen, die auch er in sich spüren wird. Und seine junge Geliebte, die mit aller Macht an dem festhalten will, was sie definitiv für die Liebe ihres Lebens hält, droht unter seinen Anwürfen, darunter, daß alles, woran sie geglaubt hat in den Jahren dieser Affäre, in Frage gestellt wird, zu zerbrechen. Und dann beginnt Katharina Stück für Stück, sich zu befreien, sich aus der Umklammerung zu befreien, der emotionalen, der seelischen Umklammerung, sie beginnt, das in Frage zu stellen, was Hans ihr auftischt � aufgesprochen auf Kassetten, 60 Minuten, Seite A und Seite B. Reiner Vorwurf, reine Verletzung, kaum Selbsthinterfragung des Älteren, der sich zerstört sieht durch ihren Verrat. Und Verrat, ja, Verrat ist es gewesen. Und er wird sich wiederholen.
Der Herbst 89 wird zum endgültigen Sprengmeister der Beziehung. Denn obwohl sie der Wiedervereinigung höchst skeptisch gegenübersteht, beginnt auch Katharina die Freiheit zu erspüren, während Hans, im Grunde ein Relikt des alten Ostdeutschlands, zurückbleibt und sich genau jenen Unbilden ausgesetzt sieht, die für viele Bürgerrechtler und Intellektuelle so tiefgreifend verletzend waren: Ihre Visionen eines wirklichen sozialistischen Neuanfangs wurden zwischen „Wir sind EIN Volk!� und der Währungsunion, zwischen 100-DM-Begrüßungsgeld und Malle zerrieben und in den Orkus der Geschichte geschickt.
Man muß das aushalten. Man muß diese Lektüre aushalten, muß aushalten, wie sich die Kräfte verschieben, das Gefälle, das Ungleichgewicht, muß den Drang der einen und die Verletzung des andern aushalten, muß aushalten, wie aus Leuchtendem und Wundervollem etwas Düsteres und Bedrückendes wird. Erpenbeck lässt den Leser nicht leicht davonkommen. Denn gleich ob im Stillstand oder in historisch bewegten Zeiten: Die Liebe und ihre Vergehen, der Schmerz, der mit der Wonne immer schon einhergeht, diese Zwillingspaare tiefster menschlicher Gefühle, sie sind sich gleich. Sind sich immer gleich. Und sind immer neu und immer einzigartig. Immer wieder. Und werden hier mit äußerster Präzision � gedanklich wie sprachlich � seziert.
Es hat schon seine Art und zeugt von der großen Könnerschaft dieser Autorin, wie es ihr gelingt, nahezu bruchlos das individuelle Schicksal dieser beiden Liebenden einzubetten in die große Geschichte und diese, die große Geschichte, dabei weder zu diskreditieren, noch zu einem Popanz aufzublähen. Sie, die Geschichte, ist da, sie geschieht und nimmt ihren Lauf und ihren Einfluß und wird hier einmal durch ein vollkommen anderes Prisma reflektiert � nämlich durch das zweier Menschen, die im Moment eigentlich andere Sorgen und Ängste haben, als die Mauer und deren Öffnung. Das ist erfrischend und es ist wirklich anders, als die bisherigen Reflexionen auf den Herbst 89 und die folgenden Monate. Und vielleicht liegt genau darin, in dieser Engführung, das Geheimnis der wirklich großen Literatur.
Und wer nun hat sie geschrieben, diese Liebesgeschichte? Jenny Erpenbeck. Jenny Erpenbeck hat uns allen, allen deutschen und deutschsprachigen Lesern, noch einmal eine solch wunderbare und grausame Liebesgeschichte geschenkt. KAIROS (2021) heißt ihr Roman. Und es ist ein Roman, der aufs Ganze geht, der die Schönheit des geglückten Moments ebenso zu erfassen versteht, wie er die Abgründe, die Ecken und die Schatten ausleuchtet, in denen das Mißtrauen wächst, der Verrat und die Verachtung. Welch ein Wurf!
Es sind die 19jährige Katharina und der längst die 50 überschritten habende Hans, ein in der DDR gefeierter Schriftsteller, die sich im Bus begegnen, einander anblicken und ineinander etwas sehen, was beide, ein jeder für sich, so noch nie in einem Menschen gesehen haben. Und so beginnt es und es ist gut. Auch wenn Hans verheiratet ist, einen jugendlichen Sohn hat, etliche Affären hinter sich und vielleicht nicht mehr so viel Zeit vor sich � Gedanken, die einem mit Mitte 50 dann doch gelegentlich kommen und die eine noch nicht 20jährige vielleicht nicht verstehen kann. Und vielleicht ist es ja gerade dies, die Jugend, das Nicht-verstehen-Können, das Gefühl der Jüngeren, die Zeit, die Welt, das ganze Leben und alles darüber hinaus vor sich zu haben, das für Hans unter anderem so verführerisch ist. Und doch, daran bleibt kein Zweifel auf diesen 370 Seiten, ist diese Liebe echt. Ist echt in all ihren Fehlbarkeiten, der Unfairness, die immer mit einem solchen Altersgefälle einhergeht.
In einer manchmal fast spröden Sprache, zurückhaltend, vorsichtig, skrupulös sich den Gefühlen, Ansichten, Meinungen diesen beiden Menschen nähernden Sprache, erzählt Jenny Erpenbeck von der Zeit, die sie miteinander verbringen, davon, wie das Außen, ein Land, das nahezu im Stillstand, in der Reglosigkeit, angekommen scheint, starr, nahezu komplett in den Hintergrund tritt. Und lässt dabei doch auch ein spürbares, lebendiges Bild dieser letzten Jahre eines grauen Landes entstehen, ein Bild das wiedererkennt, der die DDR ein wenig kannte, vor allem die späte DDR. Sie erzählt aber auch davon, wie sich die Wirklichkeit, die politische, gesellschaftliche Realität eben doch immer wieder in den privatesten Bereich vorschiebt, nicht zu ignorieren ist.
Sie erzählt von Hans Träumen, die er mit vielen Intellektuellen seiner Generation geteilt hat � von den Hoffnungen, nach den Schrecken des 3. Reichs und nach der Erkenntnis der Schuld, der fürchterlichen, nicht abtragbaren Schuld, die dieses Volk auf sich geladen hat, etwas Besseres aufzubauen. Sie erzählt von Hans´ Helden � Eisler, Brecht, jenen, die unter Lebensgefahr gegen das Unrechtsregime gekämpft haben und schließlich ein anderes Unrechtsregime, wenn auch nicht vergleichbar dem ersten, errichteten. Hans führt Katharina in die Welt der klassischen Musik ein und findet sie dort, die von Haus aus längst um all das weiß. Bildung, auch davon wird hier berichtet, kann der berühmte Festungsgürtel gegen die Masse in sich selbst sein, wie Canetti es einmal genannt hat. Bildung ist in einer Beziehung wie der zwischen Katharina und Hans und unter den Bedingungen, die ein Staat wie die DDR bietet, zumutet, eine solch wesentliche Möglichkeit der Selbstvergewisserung, aber auch der Individualität. Ob die griechische Mythologie oder Mozarts Requiem � es ist auch ein Festhalten an Tugenden der Bürgerlichkeit und auch ein Privileg Privilegierter, die beide sind, generationenübergreifend.
Und Erpenbeck erzählt von den manchmal so kühnen Träumen die Liebende miteinander verbinden und die sie teilen: Ein eigenes Heim, ein Kind, ein Leben, eine Zukunft. All das auch dann, wenn es den Widrigkeiten der Wirklichkeit diametral entgegensteht. Der manchmal verzweifelte Versuch, den Kairos, den glücklichen Moment, der doch immer nur Augenblick sein kann, ins Unendliche zu strecken. Sie erzählt davon, wie das Gefälle vom Älteren zur Jüngeren in diesen Träumen immer auch eine Hürde, ein Hindernis, darstellt, das zu überwinden Kraft kostet, zu viel davon, möglicherweise.
Und während Hans sich ausbedingt, daß Katharina auf die Bedingungen seines Lebens Rücksicht nimmt, kann er ihr einen einzigen Fehltritt � sie geht für ein Jahr nach Rostock, um ein Praktikum am dortigen Theater zu absolvieren und verbringt eine Nacht mit einem Kollegen � nicht verzeihen. Und wie er daraufhin beginnt, die Beziehung, aber auch den Charakter seiner jungen Geliebten zu dekonstruieren. Und mehr und mehr entpuppt sich da nicht nur ein eitler, ein selbstgerechter und auch zunehmend hässlicher Geist, der seine intellektuelle Überlegenheit nutzt, um die emotionalen Defizite zu übertünchen, die auch er in sich spüren wird. Und seine junge Geliebte, die mit aller Macht an dem festhalten will, was sie definitiv für die Liebe ihres Lebens hält, droht unter seinen Anwürfen, darunter, daß alles, woran sie geglaubt hat in den Jahren dieser Affäre, in Frage gestellt wird, zu zerbrechen. Und dann beginnt Katharina Stück für Stück, sich zu befreien, sich aus der Umklammerung zu befreien, der emotionalen, der seelischen Umklammerung, sie beginnt, das in Frage zu stellen, was Hans ihr auftischt � aufgesprochen auf Kassetten, 60 Minuten, Seite A und Seite B. Reiner Vorwurf, reine Verletzung, kaum Selbsthinterfragung des Älteren, der sich zerstört sieht durch ihren Verrat. Und Verrat, ja, Verrat ist es gewesen. Und er wird sich wiederholen.
Der Herbst 89 wird zum endgültigen Sprengmeister der Beziehung. Denn obwohl sie der Wiedervereinigung höchst skeptisch gegenübersteht, beginnt auch Katharina die Freiheit zu erspüren, während Hans, im Grunde ein Relikt des alten Ostdeutschlands, zurückbleibt und sich genau jenen Unbilden ausgesetzt sieht, die für viele Bürgerrechtler und Intellektuelle so tiefgreifend verletzend waren: Ihre Visionen eines wirklichen sozialistischen Neuanfangs wurden zwischen „Wir sind EIN Volk!� und der Währungsunion, zwischen 100-DM-Begrüßungsgeld und Malle zerrieben und in den Orkus der Geschichte geschickt.
Man muß das aushalten. Man muß diese Lektüre aushalten, muß aushalten, wie sich die Kräfte verschieben, das Gefälle, das Ungleichgewicht, muß den Drang der einen und die Verletzung des andern aushalten, muß aushalten, wie aus Leuchtendem und Wundervollem etwas Düsteres und Bedrückendes wird. Erpenbeck lässt den Leser nicht leicht davonkommen. Denn gleich ob im Stillstand oder in historisch bewegten Zeiten: Die Liebe und ihre Vergehen, der Schmerz, der mit der Wonne immer schon einhergeht, diese Zwillingspaare tiefster menschlicher Gefühle, sie sind sich gleich. Sind sich immer gleich. Und sind immer neu und immer einzigartig. Immer wieder. Und werden hier mit äußerster Präzision � gedanklich wie sprachlich � seziert.
Es hat schon seine Art und zeugt von der großen Könnerschaft dieser Autorin, wie es ihr gelingt, nahezu bruchlos das individuelle Schicksal dieser beiden Liebenden einzubetten in die große Geschichte und diese, die große Geschichte, dabei weder zu diskreditieren, noch zu einem Popanz aufzublähen. Sie, die Geschichte, ist da, sie geschieht und nimmt ihren Lauf und ihren Einfluß und wird hier einmal durch ein vollkommen anderes Prisma reflektiert � nämlich durch das zweier Menschen, die im Moment eigentlich andere Sorgen und Ängste haben, als die Mauer und deren Öffnung. Das ist erfrischend und es ist wirklich anders, als die bisherigen Reflexionen auf den Herbst 89 und die folgenden Monate. Und vielleicht liegt genau darin, in dieser Engführung, das Geheimnis der wirklich großen Literatur.
May 24, 2024
bu kitabın ilk yarısını bir ankara-istanbul treninde okudum. acayip yorgundum, uykusuzdum, sabahın körüydü; ama hiç gözümü kırpmadan okudum. kalan yarısını okumam üç hafta sürdü. ben bitirene kadar arada booker international aldı hatta. böyle bir metin. suçu başta kendimde aradım ama bu sefer benim şahsi reading slump'ım değil konu, kitap insanı itiyor adeta. ama garip bir şekilde bu doğru bir şey gibi geldi bana. nasıl anlatacağımı tam bilemiyorum ama böyle bir hikaye sadece bu şekilde anlatılırdı.
kitabın en bayıldığım yönü doğu-batı berlin'inden mitolojisine kadar beslendiği her şeyden çok güzel, çok doğru beslenmesiydi. evet okuması bir yerden sonra müthiş keyifli olmayabilir ama müthiş zengin bir roman. ele geliyor adeta. ödül almasına şaşırmadım dolayısıyla.
kendisi ödüllü, çevirisi ödüllü, adeta "full paket" bir kitap. okurken zevkten dört köşe olmamış olmamız kitabı kötü yapar mı? normalde ben kitabı belli objektif kriterlere göre değil, sevip sevmememe göre değerlendiririm. bu sefer bir noktadan sonra keyif almak zordu ama yine de beğendim. kendisine bayıldığım ama yanında konuşacak şey bulmakta zorlandığım, sessizlik olunca gerildiğim biriyle bir odada bulunmak gibiydi. beğendim di mi? evet beğendim.
kitabın en bayıldığım yönü doğu-batı berlin'inden mitolojisine kadar beslendiği her şeyden çok güzel, çok doğru beslenmesiydi. evet okuması bir yerden sonra müthiş keyifli olmayabilir ama müthiş zengin bir roman. ele geliyor adeta. ödül almasına şaşırmadım dolayısıyla.
kendisi ödüllü, çevirisi ödüllü, adeta "full paket" bir kitap. okurken zevkten dört köşe olmamış olmamız kitabı kötü yapar mı? normalde ben kitabı belli objektif kriterlere göre değil, sevip sevmememe göre değerlendiririm. bu sefer bir noktadan sonra keyif almak zordu ama yine de beğendim. kendisine bayıldığım ama yanında konuşacak şey bulmakta zorlandığım, sessizlik olunca gerildiğim biriyle bir odada bulunmak gibiydi. beğendim di mi? evet beğendim.
June 16, 2024
3.75
set in east germany in the 80s, kairos tells the story of 19 year old katharina’s relationship with hans, a man 34 years her senior. their passionate and then increasingly toxic and tumultuous love affair serves as an allegory for the dissolution of east germany, and the ambivalence of reunification of the country after the berlin wall fell. it’s a novel which exemplifies the blending of the personal and the political, illustrating the differing generational views on post-ww2 germany and the GDR.
i did think it became quite repetitive around the middle section, but you’ll probably enjoy it if you like literary fiction with a historical and political focus. i’m looking forward to reading more of erpenbeck’s work after this.
set in east germany in the 80s, kairos tells the story of 19 year old katharina’s relationship with hans, a man 34 years her senior. their passionate and then increasingly toxic and tumultuous love affair serves as an allegory for the dissolution of east germany, and the ambivalence of reunification of the country after the berlin wall fell. it’s a novel which exemplifies the blending of the personal and the political, illustrating the differing generational views on post-ww2 germany and the GDR.
i did think it became quite repetitive around the middle section, but you’ll probably enjoy it if you like literary fiction with a historical and political focus. i’m looking forward to reading more of erpenbeck’s work after this.
July 26, 2024
Hans ist ein „Fester Freier� Mitarbeiter der Rundfunks der DDR, als er 53jährig und verheiratet im Berlin des Jahres 1986 eine Amour Fou mit der 19jährigen Katharina beginnt. Katharina schmeichelt das Interesse des gebildeten und in der Kunstszene gut vernetzten Mannes, der zudem dank seiner Frau über genug Geld verfügt um einen für DDR-Verhältnisse exklusiven Lebensstil zu pflegen (teure Zigaretten, Besuche der besten Lokale und Bars der Stadt, Übernachtungen im Hotel Stadt Berlin). Zudem ist er Reisekader und verfügt über ein Arbeitszimmer abseits der Familienwohnung.
Katharina ist ein Kind der DDR - Krippe, Schule, Lehre als Grafikerin im Staatsverlag, erste Liebe, erster Sex. Der Großvater Spanienkampfer, die Eltern getrennt, lebt sie anfangs bei Mutter und deren Lebensgefährten. Auf junge Menschen wie sie will sich der Staat stützen, doch sie entzieht sich dem vorgezeichneten Lebensweg durch die Beziehung zu Hans und dem Traum am Theater tätig zu werden.
Trotz aller Gegensätze und Hansens Tanz auf zwei Hochzeiten entsteht eine tiefe Liebe zwischen den beiden, die auch verkraftet, dass Hans seine BDSM Vorlieben in ihren Sex einführt. Als aber Katharina während eines Praktikums eine Liebesnacht mit anderen, jüngeren Mann verbringt, schlägt die Beziehung zu Hans um und wird zunehmend toxisch. Hans zeigt seine egozentrische, besitzergreifende Seite. Geradezu inquisitorisch zwingt er Katharina Selbstkritik zu üben und sich ihm gegenüber auch seelisch zu entblößen. Zugleich wird deutlich, wie sehr Hans selbst von Katharinas ungeteilter Zuneigung und Aufmerksamkeit abhängig ist.
Das ganze ist kunstvoll in den Hintergrund der Endphase der DDR integriert, in der sich mehr und mehr - vor allem junge - Bürger dem staatlichen Zugriff entziehen, was die offiziellen Organe mit Restriktionen beantworten, während eine greise Führungsschicht die Zeichen derzeit ignoriert, die Vergangenheit verherrlicht und die Unruhe der Bevölkerung mit Konsum auf Pump stillt. Dabei sind die Parallelen Hans = alte DDR, Katharina = junge DDR, Hansens Frau = kreditgebende BRD, keinesfalls zufällig. Ein weiteres Glanzlicht des Buches ist Frau Erpenbecks Virtuosität bei der Unterstützung der Szenen durch eine Vielzahl sprachlicher Mittel von biblischer Erzählweise bis zum inneren Monolog.
Ich bin begeistert von diesem Buch. Das liegt unter anderem daran, dass ich diese historische Etappe eng, aber aus der Sicht eines engagierten BRD-Bürgers miterlebt habe. Auch die im Roman erwähnten Orte kenne ich aus eigenem Erleben. Andererseits verstehe ich, dass manchem jüngerem oder ausländischem Leser der Zugang schwer fällt.
Katharina ist ein Kind der DDR - Krippe, Schule, Lehre als Grafikerin im Staatsverlag, erste Liebe, erster Sex. Der Großvater Spanienkampfer, die Eltern getrennt, lebt sie anfangs bei Mutter und deren Lebensgefährten. Auf junge Menschen wie sie will sich der Staat stützen, doch sie entzieht sich dem vorgezeichneten Lebensweg durch die Beziehung zu Hans und dem Traum am Theater tätig zu werden.
Trotz aller Gegensätze und Hansens Tanz auf zwei Hochzeiten entsteht eine tiefe Liebe zwischen den beiden, die auch verkraftet, dass Hans seine BDSM Vorlieben in ihren Sex einführt. Als aber Katharina während eines Praktikums eine Liebesnacht mit anderen, jüngeren Mann verbringt, schlägt die Beziehung zu Hans um und wird zunehmend toxisch. Hans zeigt seine egozentrische, besitzergreifende Seite. Geradezu inquisitorisch zwingt er Katharina Selbstkritik zu üben und sich ihm gegenüber auch seelisch zu entblößen. Zugleich wird deutlich, wie sehr Hans selbst von Katharinas ungeteilter Zuneigung und Aufmerksamkeit abhängig ist.
Das ganze ist kunstvoll in den Hintergrund der Endphase der DDR integriert, in der sich mehr und mehr - vor allem junge - Bürger dem staatlichen Zugriff entziehen, was die offiziellen Organe mit Restriktionen beantworten, während eine greise Führungsschicht die Zeichen derzeit ignoriert, die Vergangenheit verherrlicht und die Unruhe der Bevölkerung mit Konsum auf Pump stillt. Dabei sind die Parallelen Hans = alte DDR, Katharina = junge DDR, Hansens Frau = kreditgebende BRD, keinesfalls zufällig. Ein weiteres Glanzlicht des Buches ist Frau Erpenbecks Virtuosität bei der Unterstützung der Szenen durch eine Vielzahl sprachlicher Mittel von biblischer Erzählweise bis zum inneren Monolog.
Ich bin begeistert von diesem Buch. Das liegt unter anderem daran, dass ich diese historische Etappe eng, aber aus der Sicht eines engagierten BRD-Bürgers miterlebt habe. Auch die im Roman erwähnten Orte kenne ich aus eigenem Erleben. Andererseits verstehe ich, dass manchem jüngerem oder ausländischem Leser der Zugang schwer fällt.
May 22, 2024
Trabantenstädte der Tristesse: Freie, sprachgewandte Literatur auf der Höhe der Zeit.
Ausführlicher, vielleicht begründeter auf
Jenny Erpenbecks Roman „Kairos� reiht sich thematisch zunächst nahtlos in die typische Gegenwartsliteratur ein. Es handelt vom geteilten Deutschland, vom Leben in der DDR, von den Versuchen einer Vergangenheitsaufarbeitung, von Politik, Liebe und Sadomasochismus, von alter Mann trifft und liebt junge Frau, Braunhemden, Ostalgie und Walter-Ulbricht-Traumata. Überraschenderweise wendet sich das Blatt nach hundert Seiten jedoch. Waren die ersten Kapitel mühsam, karg, langweilig, geradezu nebensächlich, adjektivlos, flach, so beginnt nach etwa hundert Seiten eine Tour de Force der spracherfrischenden Fremd- und Selbsterforschung.
Etwas beginnt, etwas geht zu Ende � oder erfüllt sich. Aber dazwischen windet die Zeit sich ins Leben hinein, verflicht sich, verwächst sich, ist nur eines nie: gleichgültig, sondern immer gespannt, eingespannt zwischen einem Anfang, den man nicht wahrnimmt, weil man mit dem Leben beschäftigt ist, und einem Endpunkt, der in der Zukunft, also im Dunkel, liegt.
Thema des Buches ist die seltsame, zerrüttete, schizophrene Liebe zwischen einem alteingesessenen DDR-Schriftsteller Hans und einer jungen Bühnenbildstudentin namens Katharina. Sie lernen sich in den späten 80er-Jahren Ost-Berlins kennen und erleben gemeinsam, getrennt, das Ende der DDR. Unglaubwürdig bleibt das Verlieben, das Annähern. Der Roman scheitert beinahe, bevor er anfängt. Die Liebe zwischen Hans und Katharina wirkt gewollt, konstruiert. Alles bleibt fern und beliebig in karger Protokollsprache verfasst. Offensichtlich fehlte der poetische Schwung, einen vierunddreißig Jahre großen Altersunterschied romantisch zu überbrücken.
Und nun steht sie in seiner Küche und erfährt also, in welchem Fach die großen Teller sind, wo die kleinen, welches das schärfere Messer ist und wo die Streichhölzer liegen, mit denen die Gasflamme angezündet wird. Er sieht ihr dabei zu, wie sie die Eier am Rand einer Schüssel aufschlägt, und denkt, dass die Hausarbeit bei ihr wie ein Spiel aussieht.
Wer jedoch weiterliest, wird belohnt. Die Banalität des Tristen nimmt eine ungeahnte Fahrt auf, sobald Katharina ihren eigenen Weg geht und auf ihre Rolle der masochistischen Gespielin eines frustrierten alten Mannes reduziert wird. Die DDR evoziert zwischen den Zeilen. Die Langsamkeit, die Leere, das Einsame und Karge, aber auch sehr Ruhige und Stille, vor allem das Ausweglose, Stillstehende. Je länger der Roman voranschreitet, desto mehr ziehen sich klaustrophobisch die Sätze ums Gemüt. Man kann kaum atmen. Man kann es kaum aushalten, die Trauer, die Hoffnung, die Perspektivlosigkeit. Es fehlt an allem. Es fehlt ein Außen, und es fehlt vor allem an Dynamik, Entwicklung, Fröhlichkeit des eigenen Erlebens. Die Beziehung zwischen Hans und Katharina steht symptomatisch für die politischen Hoffnung und Ideologien und gemischten Gefühle, und in kaum zu überbietender Brillanz vermag es Erpenbeck die Tristesse von Hüben und Drüben bloßzulegen, bis nichts mehr als die Trauer übrigbleibt, dass die Menschen entgegen Ingeborg Bachmanns Diktum die Wahrheit doch nicht ertragen. Allesamt nicht.
Was er ihr vor einem Jahr geschrieben hat, fällt ihm ein: wie ein leeres, ausgeplündertes Haus fühle er sich, die elektrischen Leitungen aus der Wand gerissen, die Fenster vernagelt, die Vorhänge zugezogen, der Kleinkram, der hier und da noch herumliegt. So wird es auch hier bald aussehen, an einem Ort, der, solange er zurückdenken kann, belebt war. Das einstige Nobelrestaurant nur noch ein ramponierter Laden, genauso ramponiert wie das, was von ihrer Liebe übriggeblieben ist. Was für Hoffnungen sie damals hatten.
„Kairos� ist ein Abgesang auf Versöhnung. Franz Kafka sagte in einem Brief, es gebe unendlich viel Hoffnung, nur nicht für uns. Erpenbeck hat aus diesem Zitat ein Roman werden lassen, der hinsichtlich Rhythmus, Komposition, hinsichtlich des Sprachgefühls, des Spiels mit Andeutung, Paraphrasierung und Inszenierung von Sprachvergangenheiten und Narrationswelten in der Gegenwartsliteratur seines Gleichen sucht. Unbedingt empfehlenswert für alle Literaturbegeisterten. Eine Perle, wer das erste Drittel übersteht, sich von den abgeschmackten Plattitüden des Anfanges nicht in die Irre treiben lässt. Wer Christa Wolf vermisst, findet in Jenny Erpenbeck Trost und Kontinuität, selbstkritische, freie, sprachgewandte Literarizität auf der Höhe der Zeit. Danach beispielsweise „� von Christa Wolf lesen und „� von Elfriede Jelinek.
Ausführlicher, vielleicht begründeter auf
Jenny Erpenbecks Roman „Kairos� reiht sich thematisch zunächst nahtlos in die typische Gegenwartsliteratur ein. Es handelt vom geteilten Deutschland, vom Leben in der DDR, von den Versuchen einer Vergangenheitsaufarbeitung, von Politik, Liebe und Sadomasochismus, von alter Mann trifft und liebt junge Frau, Braunhemden, Ostalgie und Walter-Ulbricht-Traumata. Überraschenderweise wendet sich das Blatt nach hundert Seiten jedoch. Waren die ersten Kapitel mühsam, karg, langweilig, geradezu nebensächlich, adjektivlos, flach, so beginnt nach etwa hundert Seiten eine Tour de Force der spracherfrischenden Fremd- und Selbsterforschung.
Etwas beginnt, etwas geht zu Ende � oder erfüllt sich. Aber dazwischen windet die Zeit sich ins Leben hinein, verflicht sich, verwächst sich, ist nur eines nie: gleichgültig, sondern immer gespannt, eingespannt zwischen einem Anfang, den man nicht wahrnimmt, weil man mit dem Leben beschäftigt ist, und einem Endpunkt, der in der Zukunft, also im Dunkel, liegt.
Thema des Buches ist die seltsame, zerrüttete, schizophrene Liebe zwischen einem alteingesessenen DDR-Schriftsteller Hans und einer jungen Bühnenbildstudentin namens Katharina. Sie lernen sich in den späten 80er-Jahren Ost-Berlins kennen und erleben gemeinsam, getrennt, das Ende der DDR. Unglaubwürdig bleibt das Verlieben, das Annähern. Der Roman scheitert beinahe, bevor er anfängt. Die Liebe zwischen Hans und Katharina wirkt gewollt, konstruiert. Alles bleibt fern und beliebig in karger Protokollsprache verfasst. Offensichtlich fehlte der poetische Schwung, einen vierunddreißig Jahre großen Altersunterschied romantisch zu überbrücken.
Und nun steht sie in seiner Küche und erfährt also, in welchem Fach die großen Teller sind, wo die kleinen, welches das schärfere Messer ist und wo die Streichhölzer liegen, mit denen die Gasflamme angezündet wird. Er sieht ihr dabei zu, wie sie die Eier am Rand einer Schüssel aufschlägt, und denkt, dass die Hausarbeit bei ihr wie ein Spiel aussieht.
Wer jedoch weiterliest, wird belohnt. Die Banalität des Tristen nimmt eine ungeahnte Fahrt auf, sobald Katharina ihren eigenen Weg geht und auf ihre Rolle der masochistischen Gespielin eines frustrierten alten Mannes reduziert wird. Die DDR evoziert zwischen den Zeilen. Die Langsamkeit, die Leere, das Einsame und Karge, aber auch sehr Ruhige und Stille, vor allem das Ausweglose, Stillstehende. Je länger der Roman voranschreitet, desto mehr ziehen sich klaustrophobisch die Sätze ums Gemüt. Man kann kaum atmen. Man kann es kaum aushalten, die Trauer, die Hoffnung, die Perspektivlosigkeit. Es fehlt an allem. Es fehlt ein Außen, und es fehlt vor allem an Dynamik, Entwicklung, Fröhlichkeit des eigenen Erlebens. Die Beziehung zwischen Hans und Katharina steht symptomatisch für die politischen Hoffnung und Ideologien und gemischten Gefühle, und in kaum zu überbietender Brillanz vermag es Erpenbeck die Tristesse von Hüben und Drüben bloßzulegen, bis nichts mehr als die Trauer übrigbleibt, dass die Menschen entgegen Ingeborg Bachmanns Diktum die Wahrheit doch nicht ertragen. Allesamt nicht.
Was er ihr vor einem Jahr geschrieben hat, fällt ihm ein: wie ein leeres, ausgeplündertes Haus fühle er sich, die elektrischen Leitungen aus der Wand gerissen, die Fenster vernagelt, die Vorhänge zugezogen, der Kleinkram, der hier und da noch herumliegt. So wird es auch hier bald aussehen, an einem Ort, der, solange er zurückdenken kann, belebt war. Das einstige Nobelrestaurant nur noch ein ramponierter Laden, genauso ramponiert wie das, was von ihrer Liebe übriggeblieben ist. Was für Hoffnungen sie damals hatten.
„Kairos� ist ein Abgesang auf Versöhnung. Franz Kafka sagte in einem Brief, es gebe unendlich viel Hoffnung, nur nicht für uns. Erpenbeck hat aus diesem Zitat ein Roman werden lassen, der hinsichtlich Rhythmus, Komposition, hinsichtlich des Sprachgefühls, des Spiels mit Andeutung, Paraphrasierung und Inszenierung von Sprachvergangenheiten und Narrationswelten in der Gegenwartsliteratur seines Gleichen sucht. Unbedingt empfehlenswert für alle Literaturbegeisterten. Eine Perle, wer das erste Drittel übersteht, sich von den abgeschmackten Plattitüden des Anfanges nicht in die Irre treiben lässt. Wer Christa Wolf vermisst, findet in Jenny Erpenbeck Trost und Kontinuität, selbstkritische, freie, sprachgewandte Literarizität auf der Höhe der Zeit. Danach beispielsweise „� von Christa Wolf lesen und „� von Elfriede Jelinek.
February 14, 2024
olmadı jenny erpenbeck. bu kez anlaşamadık. nedense ne diliyle ne anlatımıyla ne de anlattığıyla beni hiç kendisine inandıramadı bu roman.
öylesine toksik bir ilişki, öylesine korkunç manipülatif bir erkek anlatıyor ki romanın asıl derdi doğu - batı almanya’nın günbegün değişen kaderlerine de odaklanamıyor insan. bu kadar zehirli bir ilişki olmasa, üstümüze hans’ın yaptıkları yağmasa, aslında aralarında 34 yaş fark olan gencecik bir kızla orta yaşlı erkeğin zihninde almanya ne demek, daha iyi anlayacağız. ki aralardaki librettolar, şiirler sürekli bu minvalde. o kutsal ülke artık kim için kutsal�
jenny hanım niçin bu derece gerçek olamayacak bir ilişki anlatmayı seçmiş bilmiyorum. ana babası tarafından sevilen, yetenekli, zeki katharina’nın hadi bir yıl çok aşıkken tamam ama sonrasında üç yıl eziyetle geçen bu ilişkiyi bitirememesine ben ikna olmadım. ilişkiye de ikna olmadım. ilk 100 sayfada evet evli ve olgun bir erkekle 19 yaşında bir kızın heyecanlı gizli ilişkisi tam olacak gibiyken, katharina’nın başka şehirde yaşadığı küçücük şey üzerine hans’ın ona yıllarca yaptığı eziyeti çekmesi, bu arada kadın-erkek yine başka kaçamaklar yaptığı halde hans’ın kendisini kemerle dövmesine, eziyet etmesine, aşağılamasına, mütemadiyen hakaret etmesine izin vermesine cidden ikna olamadım. iki karakteri de ne tanıyoruz ne de derinleştirebiliyoruz kafamızda. hans’ın ağzına ne romantik cümleler yakışıyor ne de dirty talk. hepsi aşırı zorlama.
bu arada hans’� da babasının kemerle dövmesi, babasının nazi olması, kendisinin de ilk gençliğinde hitler taraftarı olması gibi ayrıntılar var ve bunlar da aşırı basit bence. sonra pat diye oluyor her şey. katharina seksten vazgeçip bekaret yemini etmiş gibi oluyor, sonra o dönem de bitiyor, psikolog var arada kaynıyor, arkadaşlar geliyor geçiyor, biri bile katharina’yı sarsıp kendine getirmiyor, ana baba desen hımmm hımmm diyor. hans’ın neredeyse açık ilişki yaşarken birden kıskançlık krizlerine giren karısı var bir de. yani neresinden tutsam olmadı.
jenny erpenbeck’in normalde çok iyi yaptığı nesne- özne ilişkisi üzerinden almanya hikayesi de tatmin etmiyor bu sebeple. sadece romanın sonunda yıkılan duvarla altında kalan doğu berlinlilerin anlatıldığı yerler, idealist alman gençliğinin yerini kim olduğunu bilmeyen katharina gibilere bıraktığı kuşak farkının işlendiği bölümler ilgili çekti açıkçası. onun dışında roman sündü de sündü.
bu arada bir okurun çeviri uyarısı üzerine biraz dikkat ettim. regaip hanımın ödül aldığı bu çeviride dipnotlar büyük iş, bravo ama kelime kelime aksayan çok yer var gerçekten. “salıncaklı oyuncak at� nedir mesela, kaç yerde geçiyor. “kendine� zamirinin sürekli yanlış kullanıldığı cümleler� anlatımın yavanlığı, kesik, kuru ve duygusuz cümleler sanırım yazarın seçimi. ama daha dikkatli editoryal aşama gerekiyormuş.
öylesine toksik bir ilişki, öylesine korkunç manipülatif bir erkek anlatıyor ki romanın asıl derdi doğu - batı almanya’nın günbegün değişen kaderlerine de odaklanamıyor insan. bu kadar zehirli bir ilişki olmasa, üstümüze hans’ın yaptıkları yağmasa, aslında aralarında 34 yaş fark olan gencecik bir kızla orta yaşlı erkeğin zihninde almanya ne demek, daha iyi anlayacağız. ki aralardaki librettolar, şiirler sürekli bu minvalde. o kutsal ülke artık kim için kutsal�
jenny hanım niçin bu derece gerçek olamayacak bir ilişki anlatmayı seçmiş bilmiyorum. ana babası tarafından sevilen, yetenekli, zeki katharina’nın hadi bir yıl çok aşıkken tamam ama sonrasında üç yıl eziyetle geçen bu ilişkiyi bitirememesine ben ikna olmadım. ilişkiye de ikna olmadım. ilk 100 sayfada evet evli ve olgun bir erkekle 19 yaşında bir kızın heyecanlı gizli ilişkisi tam olacak gibiyken, katharina’nın başka şehirde yaşadığı küçücük şey üzerine hans’ın ona yıllarca yaptığı eziyeti çekmesi, bu arada kadın-erkek yine başka kaçamaklar yaptığı halde hans’ın kendisini kemerle dövmesine, eziyet etmesine, aşağılamasına, mütemadiyen hakaret etmesine izin vermesine cidden ikna olamadım. iki karakteri de ne tanıyoruz ne de derinleştirebiliyoruz kafamızda. hans’ın ağzına ne romantik cümleler yakışıyor ne de dirty talk. hepsi aşırı zorlama.
bu arada hans’� da babasının kemerle dövmesi, babasının nazi olması, kendisinin de ilk gençliğinde hitler taraftarı olması gibi ayrıntılar var ve bunlar da aşırı basit bence. sonra pat diye oluyor her şey. katharina seksten vazgeçip bekaret yemini etmiş gibi oluyor, sonra o dönem de bitiyor, psikolog var arada kaynıyor, arkadaşlar geliyor geçiyor, biri bile katharina’yı sarsıp kendine getirmiyor, ana baba desen hımmm hımmm diyor. hans’ın neredeyse açık ilişki yaşarken birden kıskançlık krizlerine giren karısı var bir de. yani neresinden tutsam olmadı.
jenny erpenbeck’in normalde çok iyi yaptığı nesne- özne ilişkisi üzerinden almanya hikayesi de tatmin etmiyor bu sebeple. sadece romanın sonunda yıkılan duvarla altında kalan doğu berlinlilerin anlatıldığı yerler, idealist alman gençliğinin yerini kim olduğunu bilmeyen katharina gibilere bıraktığı kuşak farkının işlendiği bölümler ilgili çekti açıkçası. onun dışında roman sündü de sündü.
bu arada bir okurun çeviri uyarısı üzerine biraz dikkat ettim. regaip hanımın ödül aldığı bu çeviride dipnotlar büyük iş, bravo ama kelime kelime aksayan çok yer var gerçekten. “salıncaklı oyuncak at� nedir mesela, kaç yerde geçiyor. “kendine� zamirinin sürekli yanlış kullanıldığı cümleler� anlatımın yavanlığı, kesik, kuru ve duygusuz cümleler sanırım yazarın seçimi. ama daha dikkatli editoryal aşama gerekiyormuş.
July 19, 2024
Ein Buch, das mich zwiespältig zurück lässt. Ich fand es erst gar nicht in den Schreibstil hinein, der auf den ersten Seiten sehr abwechslungsreich war. Von kurzen, abgehakten Sätzen über einzelne Worte bis hin zu fließenden Gedanken war die Bandbreite groß. Erstaunlicherweise legt sich das im Verlauf des Buchs, und ich nahm eher wahr, dass die Sprache in den Hintergrund rückte und dafür Stil und Geschichte mehr Bedeutung gewannen.
Stilistisch fand ich es fesselnd, was aber stark zu Lasten der Liebesgeschichte ging. Zumindest nach meinem Geschmack. Was zunächst als eine außergewöhnliche Romanze aufgrund einer zufälligen Begegnung einer 19jährigen mit einem Schriftsteller über 50 Jahre begann, wurde im Verlauf aufgrund des dominanten und psychisch wie physisch brutalen Verhalten des Mannes immer skurriler. Bedingt durch das Lesen von Rezensionen im Vorfeld, war mein Augenmerk da schon auf die Parallelen des Beziehungsverlaufs zwischen Katharina und Hans auf der einen Seite und stellvertretend für die beiden Generationen in der DDR der 80er Jahre auf der anderen Seite gelegt. Diese sich durch fast das ganze Buch ziehende Allegorie ist wirklich originell. Der Lesereiz entwickelte sich bei mir dann dadurch, immer wieder wie so ein Metapherntrüffelschwein nach solchen Bildern Ausschau zu halten. Von dem Drang, des permanenten Feiern von Monats- und Jahrestagen in der Paarbeziehung bis zu den Überwachungsmaßnahmen des Alten und dem Misstrauen gegenüber dem Verhalten der Jungen gab es zahlreiche Beispiele, an denen sich Gesellschaft und Paar glichen, ihre Höhen erlebten und später dann scheiterten.
Aber die Allegorie erstickte für mich auch die Geschichte. Teilweise hatte ich das Gefühl, dass eine Schilderung einer realistischen Liebesbeziehung für den Stil und den Vergleich geopfert wurde. Ich empfand die Liebesgeschichte oft als reine Berichterstattung, der die Emotionen fehlte. Das Buch war daher für mich stellenweise kunstvoll, aber zu verkopft. Gerade als der Psychoterror und die Erniedrigungen durch Hans zunahmen, verlor mich das Buch wieder. Und am Ende ärgerte es mich sogar, denn als der Staat und die Beziehung zusammenbrechen, die Mauer fällt und die Autorin das Leben in den Folgejahren relativ zügig im Vergleich zum vorherigen Stil erzählt, ist von Allegorie nichts mehr zu finden. Stattdessen beklagt Katharina den Verlust ihres Staates, ihrer Heimat, an der sie doch aber gar nicht so sehr hing, als es ihn noch gab. Generell wird sich während es die DDR noch gibt, wenig mit dem Staat auseinandergesetzt in dem Buch. Der Fokus liegt sehr stark auf der Paarbeziehung. Am Ende wird sich dann sehr kritisch und vor allem teilweise dumm mit dem Kapitalismus auseinandergesetzt (im Westen kann man viel besser klauen in Geschäften, da es ja die Ladenangestellten nicht interessiert. Wessis sind konsumgeil, Wessis sehen Menschen nur als Kundschaft, Wessis sind wohlparfümiert, Wessis und ihre Sexshops). Wäre doch nur mit dem Fall der Mauer das Ende des Buchs erreicht gewesen, dann hätte ich das Buch nicht quer durch den Raum werfen müssen nach dem Lesen.
Aufgrund der zwiespältigen Eindrücke mache ich es mal wie ein GR-Freund bei der Bewertung und beurteile einzelne Kriterien:
Sprache 4/5
Stil 5/5
Geschichte 2/5
Unterhaltung 2/5
Aussage 1/5
--> macht 2,8 Sterne.
Ich kann nun verstehen, warum Frau Erpenbeck mehr Beachtung im Ausland als im Inland bekommt. Sie kann wirklich gut schreiben. "Gehen, ging, gegangen" gefiel mir ziemlich gut. Ihr DDR-Buch zeigt aber, wie unterschiedlich Wessis und Ossis sich auch nach 35 Jahren wahrnehmen. Es ist kein Buch, welches Gräben schließt, sondern bestehenden Differenzen aufzeigt. Wahrscheinlich hat man es da als ostdeutsche Autorin im westdeutsch geprägten Literaturbetrieb schwer, Gehör und Verständnis zu finden. Wenn ich aber lese, dass sich ihre Hauptfigur beklagt, warum man die Einsicht in die Überwachungsakten nur im Osten der Gesellschaft aufdrückt, es aber damals nach der Nazi-Herrschaft nicht tat, muss ich den Kopf schütteln. Wahrscheinlich hat man aus der Geschichte gelernt. Im Nachhinein würde man vieles anders machen, wenn man das Ende einer geschichtlichen Periode kennt, ob es den gelebten Sozialismus, die Wiedervereinigung oder die Pandemie betrifft. Vielleicht sollten wir unsere Gedanken mehr dahin lenken, wo es uns Erich Honecker schon gelehrt hat: "Vorwärts immer, rückwärts nimmer". Lösung suchen, wie wir zusammenfinden. Und der Bundestrainer hat ja auch gesagt, dass wir mit dem Gejammer aufhören sollen...
Stilistisch fand ich es fesselnd, was aber stark zu Lasten der Liebesgeschichte ging. Zumindest nach meinem Geschmack. Was zunächst als eine außergewöhnliche Romanze aufgrund einer zufälligen Begegnung einer 19jährigen mit einem Schriftsteller über 50 Jahre begann, wurde im Verlauf aufgrund des dominanten und psychisch wie physisch brutalen Verhalten des Mannes immer skurriler. Bedingt durch das Lesen von Rezensionen im Vorfeld, war mein Augenmerk da schon auf die Parallelen des Beziehungsverlaufs zwischen Katharina und Hans auf der einen Seite und stellvertretend für die beiden Generationen in der DDR der 80er Jahre auf der anderen Seite gelegt. Diese sich durch fast das ganze Buch ziehende Allegorie ist wirklich originell. Der Lesereiz entwickelte sich bei mir dann dadurch, immer wieder wie so ein Metapherntrüffelschwein nach solchen Bildern Ausschau zu halten. Von dem Drang, des permanenten Feiern von Monats- und Jahrestagen in der Paarbeziehung bis zu den Überwachungsmaßnahmen des Alten und dem Misstrauen gegenüber dem Verhalten der Jungen gab es zahlreiche Beispiele, an denen sich Gesellschaft und Paar glichen, ihre Höhen erlebten und später dann scheiterten.
Aber die Allegorie erstickte für mich auch die Geschichte. Teilweise hatte ich das Gefühl, dass eine Schilderung einer realistischen Liebesbeziehung für den Stil und den Vergleich geopfert wurde. Ich empfand die Liebesgeschichte oft als reine Berichterstattung, der die Emotionen fehlte. Das Buch war daher für mich stellenweise kunstvoll, aber zu verkopft. Gerade als der Psychoterror und die Erniedrigungen durch Hans zunahmen, verlor mich das Buch wieder. Und am Ende ärgerte es mich sogar, denn als der Staat und die Beziehung zusammenbrechen, die Mauer fällt und die Autorin das Leben in den Folgejahren relativ zügig im Vergleich zum vorherigen Stil erzählt, ist von Allegorie nichts mehr zu finden. Stattdessen beklagt Katharina den Verlust ihres Staates, ihrer Heimat, an der sie doch aber gar nicht so sehr hing, als es ihn noch gab. Generell wird sich während es die DDR noch gibt, wenig mit dem Staat auseinandergesetzt in dem Buch. Der Fokus liegt sehr stark auf der Paarbeziehung. Am Ende wird sich dann sehr kritisch und vor allem teilweise dumm mit dem Kapitalismus auseinandergesetzt (im Westen kann man viel besser klauen in Geschäften, da es ja die Ladenangestellten nicht interessiert. Wessis sind konsumgeil, Wessis sehen Menschen nur als Kundschaft, Wessis sind wohlparfümiert, Wessis und ihre Sexshops). Wäre doch nur mit dem Fall der Mauer das Ende des Buchs erreicht gewesen, dann hätte ich das Buch nicht quer durch den Raum werfen müssen nach dem Lesen.
Aufgrund der zwiespältigen Eindrücke mache ich es mal wie ein GR-Freund bei der Bewertung und beurteile einzelne Kriterien:
Sprache 4/5
Stil 5/5
Geschichte 2/5
Unterhaltung 2/5
Aussage 1/5
--> macht 2,8 Sterne.
Ich kann nun verstehen, warum Frau Erpenbeck mehr Beachtung im Ausland als im Inland bekommt. Sie kann wirklich gut schreiben. "Gehen, ging, gegangen" gefiel mir ziemlich gut. Ihr DDR-Buch zeigt aber, wie unterschiedlich Wessis und Ossis sich auch nach 35 Jahren wahrnehmen. Es ist kein Buch, welches Gräben schließt, sondern bestehenden Differenzen aufzeigt. Wahrscheinlich hat man es da als ostdeutsche Autorin im westdeutsch geprägten Literaturbetrieb schwer, Gehör und Verständnis zu finden. Wenn ich aber lese, dass sich ihre Hauptfigur beklagt, warum man die Einsicht in die Überwachungsakten nur im Osten der Gesellschaft aufdrückt, es aber damals nach der Nazi-Herrschaft nicht tat, muss ich den Kopf schütteln. Wahrscheinlich hat man aus der Geschichte gelernt. Im Nachhinein würde man vieles anders machen, wenn man das Ende einer geschichtlichen Periode kennt, ob es den gelebten Sozialismus, die Wiedervereinigung oder die Pandemie betrifft. Vielleicht sollten wir unsere Gedanken mehr dahin lenken, wo es uns Erich Honecker schon gelehrt hat: "Vorwärts immer, rückwärts nimmer". Lösung suchen, wie wir zusammenfinden. Und der Bundestrainer hat ja auch gesagt, dass wir mit dem Gejammer aufhören sollen...
July 29, 2024
At its core, Kairos its not much different from other novels of the same theme. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, Dubin's Lives by Bernard Malamud, and The Other Woman by Therese Bohman all follow the same storyline: a torrid relationship between a young woman and an old man; and they are all better novels than Kairos.
Kairos gets bogged down in its attempt to be more of a work of art than a literary story. Erpenbeck includes lengthy stream-of-conscious passages and poetic wording throughout the novel. She creates an atmosphere around the depressed existence of her main characters, Katharina and Hans, who live in East Germany during the late 1980s.
The entire novel is a tedious effort due to its elaborate use of language. Adding to the boredom is an obsession with an event that happens halfway through the novel. Erpenbeck dwells on this event to the point of yawning unbelievability through most of the novel’s second half.
The main characters, Katharina and Hans, become secondary to the art that Erpenbeck tries to create. We never get to know them because they are almost exclusively represented by their nut-job relationship. In contrast, by the end of Lolita we all knew that Humbert Humbert was a nut-job, but we also felt some empathy for him because Nabokov let us inside Humbert’s heart and mind. With Kairos, all we get is the psycho-behavior at face value.
I can see why Kairos won the Booker Prize. The judges were likely hooked by a story that aspired to be more art than story. The reader, however, is left to suffer through its mountains of gloomy material that dwells on and on about things that are not very interesting, at least in the way that they are presented.
Kairos gets bogged down in its attempt to be more of a work of art than a literary story. Erpenbeck includes lengthy stream-of-conscious passages and poetic wording throughout the novel. She creates an atmosphere around the depressed existence of her main characters, Katharina and Hans, who live in East Germany during the late 1980s.
The entire novel is a tedious effort due to its elaborate use of language. Adding to the boredom is an obsession with an event that happens halfway through the novel. Erpenbeck dwells on this event to the point of yawning unbelievability through most of the novel’s second half.
The main characters, Katharina and Hans, become secondary to the art that Erpenbeck tries to create. We never get to know them because they are almost exclusively represented by their nut-job relationship. In contrast, by the end of Lolita we all knew that Humbert Humbert was a nut-job, but we also felt some empathy for him because Nabokov let us inside Humbert’s heart and mind. With Kairos, all we get is the psycho-behavior at face value.
I can see why Kairos won the Booker Prize. The judges were likely hooked by a story that aspired to be more art than story. The reader, however, is left to suffer through its mountains of gloomy material that dwells on and on about things that are not very interesting, at least in the way that they are presented.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 3,008 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.