The Alien Writer in NYC #deutscheshausatnyu

SIX Rolf Lappert - May 14, 2013

May 14, 2013:

A few days ago, I went to Williamsburg. I walked from bar to bar, having a beer in each one—local beer, of course. I had wanted to see Williamsburg the last time I was in New York but only made it to other parts of Brooklyn, including Coney Island. That’s where my novel Nach Hause schwimmen [Swimming Home] is set, so in order to write about it I had to visit the area. But now I had time for an outing to Williamsburg. Around 2 in the morning I walked back to Manhattan across the Williamsburg Bridge—the view of both Manhattan and Brooklyn was spectacular.

I am currently working on a novel set in Hamburg, in Wilhelmsburg to be more precise. (Note the similarity to Williamsburg!) Before the land’s drainage and  massive development, Wilhelmsburg was an island—which again shows that islands are an important setting in most of my novels. There is a building in Wilhelmsburg in which most of my story takes place. It’s a family story, of course. Many critics say there are too many stories about families, but I think there can’t be enough. My story is set in the winter, in a winter when the Außenalster lake freezes over. That might be comparable to the Hudson freezing over in New York—even though the two bodies of water probably don’t have much in common. I don’t know how often this happens in New York, but when it happens in Hamburg it’s quite an event, a public celebration. As soon as the ice is strong enough and the authorities give their permission, thousands of people start strolling on it.

It is slowly getting warmer and more summery in New York City, even though right now a small cold front is causing the temperature to drop. Sitting at my desk, I have to make an effort to conjure up an ice-cold winter in northern Germany. Only a few floors below my apartment, NYU students are playing tennis outdoors, the sun is shining, and the sky is almost cloudless. But in my novel it’s gloomy: Snow is often falling from a grey sky, and people are bundling up in thick winter clothing.  When I look out of my apartment window, though, I see people in shorts and T-shirts. Luckily, in addition to my strong powers of make-believe, I have a vivid imagination, which currently really serves me quite well in imagining a wintry Hamburg. And when I have written a particularly convincing paragraph, I sometimes even feel slightly chilly… .

(Translation: Juliane Camfield and Marianna Szilbereky)

*****

14. Mai 2013:

Vor ein paar Tagen war ich in Williamsburg, das zu Brooklyn gehört. Ich bin von Bar zu Bar spaziert und habe in jeder ein Bier getrunken, lokales Bier, natürlich. Ich wollte schon bei meinem letzten Besuch in New York Williamsburg  sehen, aber dann habe ich nur einen kleinen Teil von Brooklyn und Coney Island geschafft. Diese beiden Orte sind Schauplätze meines Romans Nach Hause schwimmen, und ich musste sie besuchen, um über sie schreiben zu können. Jetzt war genug Zeit für einen Ausflug nach Williamsburg. Gegen zwei Uhr am Morgen bin ich dann zu Fuß über die Williamsburg Bridge zurück nach Manhattan; der Blick auf beide Ufer war spektakulär.

Zurzeit arbeite ich an einem Roman, der in Hamburg spielt, genauer gesagt, in Wilhelmsburg. (Man bemerke die Ähnlichkeit zu Williamsburg!) Wilhelmsburg war früher, vor der Trockenlegung und massiven Bebauung, eine Insel – was wieder einmal beweist, dass in fast allen meinen Romanen Inseln einen Schauplatz bilden. Ein Haus steht da, in dem der größte Teil der Geschichte spielt. Eine Familiengeschichte, was sonst. Viele Kritiker meinen, es würden zu viele Familiengeschichten erzählt, aber ich finde, es können nicht genug davon erzählt werden. Meine Geschichte spielt im Winter, einem Winter, in dem die Außenalster zufriert. Das muss man sich so vorstellen, als würde in New York der Hudson zufrieren – auch wenn die beiden Gewässer wahrscheinlich nicht viele Gemeinsamkeiten aufweisen. Ich weiß nicht, wie oft das in New York passiert, aber in Hamburg ist das jeweils ein Ereignis, ein Volksfest.  Sobald das Eis trägt und von den Behörden freigegeben wird, tummeln sich Tausende von Menschen darauf. 

In New York City wird es langsam sommerlich warm, auch wenn gerade eine kleine Kaltfront die Temperaturen fallen lässt. Wenn ich jetzt am Schreibtisch sitze und vor meinem geistigen Auge einen eiskalten Winter in Norddeutschland heraufzubeschwören versuche, muss ich mich ziemlich anstrengen. Nur ein paar Stockwerke unter mir spielen Studentinnen und Studenten der University of New York Tennis, die Sonne scheint und der Himmel ist fast wolkenlos. In meinem Roman ist es düster, aus einem grauen Himmel fällt oft Schnee, die Menschen sind dick in wärmende Kleidung eingepackt. Schaue ich aus dem Fenster meines Apartments, sehe ich Leute in kurzen Hosen und T-Shirts. Zum Glück habe ich neben einer blühenden Phantasie eine gute Vorstellungskraft, das hilft im Moment sehr, mich mental in ein winterliches Hamburg zu versetzen. Und wenn ich eine besonders gut gelungene Passage geschrieben habe, fröstelt mich manchmal sogar ein wenig…  

Christopher Kloeble - Ledig House Blog - May 13, 2013

Ledig House Blog 

FINAL PART 

PERSONAL WORLD MAP

On one day during the residency a cab driver from Hudson told me that he had left this place and his marriage for fourteen years, working in every corner of the US, until he ‘met’ his wife again on facebook, chatted with her, and finally decided to move back in with her.

Those fourteen years cannot have been easy for him. Hudson had been marked on his personal world map. There is no way that he spent all these years far away without constantly remembering that there was an alternative life waiting for him.

Before I came to Ledig House, I hadn’t been aware of the fact that this place even existed. Once I had settled in, I found that particularly strange. And now that it is time for me to leave again, after merely fourteen days, I will take this place with me. Although I know that there are going to be other residents and weathers and meals after I’m gone, I can’t really imagine it. For me, Ledig House will always mean deer watching at sunset, blindfolded jenga, the grave of a little boy, running up and down hills next to my shadow, the smell of sulphur, writing a movie script about lions without any lions in it, Rita ringing the dinner bell. And even more it will also be traveling to India, Sweden, Scotland, Denmark, the Netherlands, Germany, Iran, and California through the stories of my fellow residents.

That is the way Ledig House has been marked on my personal world map. I know this spot now, at a certain time, with certain people. I guess I’m telling myself that I will be back because it’s easier than accepting the possibility that I might never see this lovely place again.

Then again, maybe I don’t want to come back because I won’t find the place that I used to know.

FIVE Rolf Lappert - May 2, 2013

May 2, 2013:

Yesterday, I watched the May Day parade on Broadway. It was really moving and encouraging to see that there are still people who are committed to social and political issues and will take to the streets for their beliefs. The sight of these extremely diverse individuals, who together formed an impressive crowd, was also somewhat touching: Some were holding up small signs whose handwritten messages were barely legible, others were chanting so softly that their demands were drowned out by the joyful noise, others simply were walking along silently, visibly happy to be among kindred spirits. The older marchers strode along with dignity, while the younger participants mostly played music, drummed and danced. An atmosphere of solidarity with the country’s minorities and powerless floated over Broadway, which, for a couple of hours, stopped being a hectic shopping street dominated by cars and restless pedestrians, but turned into a kind of stage for New York’s angry, demanding, admonishing and hopeful, providing them with short but memorable appearances—as it happens escorted by the police, who didn’t seem to mind their “long walk” under the blue sky.

(Translation: Juliane Camfield and Christine Kuerzinger)

*******************************************

2. Mai 2013:

Ich habe mir gestern den 1.-Mai-Umzug (Marsch oder Parade klingt so militärisch…) am Broadway angesehen. Es war sehr schön und ermutigend zu sehen, dass es noch immer Menschen gibt, die sich gesellschaftlich und politisch engagieren und dafür auf die Straße gehen. Der Anblick dieser bunt durcheinander gewürfelten Individuen, die zusammen eine beeindruckende Masse bildeten, war irgendwie auch berührend. Einige hielten kleine Plakate in den Händen, deren handgeschriebene Botschaften kaum zu lesen waren, andere skandierten so leise, dass ihre Forderungen im fröhlichen Lärm untergingen, andere liefen einfach nur schweigend mit, sichtbar glücklich, unter Gleichgesinnten zu sein. Die Labour Day-Veteranen schritten würdevoll daher, während vor allem die jungen Teilnehmer Musik machten, trommelten und tanzten. Eine Atmosphäre von Solidarität mit den Minderheiten und Machtlosen dieses Landes schwebte über dem Broadway, der für ein paar Stunden nicht die hektische, von Autos und ruhelosen Passanten beherrschte Shopping-Straße war, sondern eine Art Laufsteg, auf dem die Erzürnten, die Fordernden, die Mahnenden, die Hoffnungsvollen New Yorks ihren kurzen, aber eindrücklichen Auftritt hatten - übrigens eskortiert von Polizisten, denen dieser „lange Spaziergang“ unter blauem Himmel nicht gänzlich zu missfallen schien.

Christopher Kloeble - Ledig House Blog - May 6, 2013

Ledig House Blog

PART III

SCALPS

A state rodeo. Gigantic floodlights fight against the black of the night in the middle of nowhere. Miles of cars parked on both sides of the road. I’m part of a group of writers visiting the US. Many of us are not white. The woman from Egypt bought a baseball cap in order to hide her headscarf. We’re following the masses. Cowboy hats and chequered shirts everywhere. And, of course, country music. Our dinner: corn dogs and tacos, served with hand-warmed beer. Native Americans sell handmade belts and bags. They sit on plastic chairs behind counters and look tired.

We’re trying to find our seats on the crowded tribune. We feel alien in this unfamiliar place, but nobody seems to notice us. In the arena, cowboys throw lassos over the heads of calves, catch them and cuff their legs in record time. The stadium speaker cracks jokes about women. It smells of cow shit and fried potatoes and the thick air of summer nights. Then, three buffaloes are shoved into the arena. They walk a few steps and then shyly stop in a corner. Half a dozen Native Americans with feathered headdresses ride into the arena on spotted horses, making sounds reminiscent of a Wild West movie. They circle the buffaloes and shoot arrows that stick to the skin of the animals. The buffaloes don’t budge an inch. The stadium speaker explains: “Evil Indians are trying to kiiiiill the buffaloes!”

The audience boos.

Then, cowboys storm the arena on saddled horses and shoot around with fake colts. The stadium speaker goes on: “Buuut the cavalry is coming! Eager to save our buffaloes!”

One “evil Indian” after another falls off his horse. The audience cheers. “One more down!” the speaker announces.

The members of our group are exchanging looks along the lines of: does anyone remember that version of US history?

Behind us is a blond woman in a pink sweat suit. I imagine she was probably a cheerleader in high school. A tiny girl in a just as pink a sweat suit sits on her lap.

After the last Native American falls, the cowboys lift their hats and bow to the audience. Standing ovations. The mother in pink behind us screams: “Take their scalps! Take their scalps!”

We leave. As fast as possible.

Christopher Kloeble - Ledig House Blog - May 3, 2013

Ledig House Blog

PART II

FRANK’S THEORY

Frank pointed at the wide sunny fields of Iowa and said: ‘Flyover country.’
The Midwest. Corn, red-and-white farms, cows, silos, windmills, more corn. We were driving west on the interstate 80 at sixty-five miles an hour — top speed. Frank had been sent to pick me up for a reading at Grinnell College.
That was in 2010. Staying at Ledig House now, in the rolling landscape of upstate New York, occasionally coming across farms on my walks, I am reminded of that drive through Iowa.
Frank was a tall guy in his early sixties. Rough hands, light hair, earnest laughter. Kind of how you imagine a loving grandpa. At the beginning of our journey we exchanged polite questions: ‘Where are you from? How long have you been here? Do you like the food?’
There was some talk about the upcoming Congressional elections on the radio. Frank cursed at Obama. He had voted for him but not for this.
“What do you mean?” I wanted to know.
He told me what he meant: “Socialism.” He was aware that things were different in Europe, he said, especially in Germany. But America was America. “I’m a believer,” Frank said.
It sounded apologetic.
He considered evolutionary theory nonsense. His explanation: Extremely complicated machines were made from tiny scraps of metal in the earth by higher beings: us humans. Therefore, in his opinion it couldn’t be true that monkeys had turned into humans by pure coincidence. Most certainly another higher being had been involved: God.
The fact that he had been a biology teacher Frank only told me later on our drive. In class he had of course mentioned Darwin. But he had let the children decide what was the real truth. “This is a free country!” he joked.
We passed by an Amish town. Frank shook his head. “Crazy people!”
I asked him what kind of believer he was.
He had decided to be a Catholic, he said, as if talking about acquiring a car. But he wasn’t really happy with his decision. Frank didn’t think much of talking to god through a priest. He wanted to interact directly with his maker, without a mediator. And celibacy, he added, should also be abolished.
After a few seconds of silence I dared to ask why.
Frank pushed his elbow into my ribs. “Wanna hear my theory?”
I glanced at him and wasn’t so sure whether I did.
“Well,” he said in a low voice: “A man who doesn’t have a woman by his side, who doesn’t share a bed with her, who never feels her love, eventually turns gay.” He added that this was obvious if you looked at prisons. “But, hey,” he continued. “That’s only the tip of the iceberg! After all, their homosexuality is what makes them rape little boys.”
The rest of the drive passed in silence.

Christopher Kloeble - Ledig House Blog - May 2, 2013

Christopher Kloeble was our Writer-in-Residence here at Deutsches Haus last fall, from September to November 2012. He is now back in New York State for the Writers Omi International Residency at Ledig House and has kindly agreed to provide us with dispatches from Ghent.

Ledig House Blog

PART I

OVERDOSE OF TIME

The dog is pitch black and the size of a young calf, his growling bark echoes across the yard — and he is running in my direction. But, just as he reaches the limits of his owner’s yard and is about to take a bite out of my throat, the hound of the Baskervilles stops between two trees. He keeps barking frantically yet won’t put a paw on the street I’m walking on.

I love invisible fences.

Where I grew up, in a small town in the most Bavarian part of Bavaria you can imagine, they only have high or electric (and way too often no) fences. Here, in the surroundings of Ledig House, in the countryside of upstate New York where I’m staying on a two-week residency for writers, watchdogs are not part of my concern.

But there is something about this place that worries me.

Compared to Ledig House, my hometown is a bustling city. Three houses on a hill that remind me of a painting by Hopper — that’s the center of this upstate universe. Usually, I work until noon, then go running, have lunch after that and relax a bit before I work some more. On a typical Ledig House day, after having done all this, my watch tells me: it’s not even noon yet. Because part of the residency program is a very generous grant of time.

What to do with it? There’s not a lot of places you can walk to - unless you are willing to walk very far. And since most writers lock themselves in their rooms and actually focus on their work during the day (a miracle that I have rarely ever witnessed before) you’re likely to find yourself discussing the plot of your novel with the piglets of the farm next door or the dead racoon on the road. There is so much time here, I wish I could bottle it up and sell it. Or keep it for those busy weeks when editors, agents and producers all at once hound me for the new version of a project that I’m working on.

An overdose of time, that’s what Ledig House is.

I hope I can manage it. It will let me greet the scary dog at least once a day, and also observe how long it takes the sun to rise and sink (you wouldn’t believe it!), and, above all, it will allow me to write this blog.

FOUR Rolf Lappert - April 20, 2013

April 20, 2013:

As a writer you travel a lot, either on your own while doing research for your next novel (at least that’s what I do) or when you’re invited to give readings and talks. Ideally, your publisher will try to organize several readings in a country or region to avoid a long trip for just one event. During these reading tours, you often don’t see much more of the cities you visit than the train station or airport, the hotel, and the university, Literaturhaus, library, or bookstore where you’ll read. During my brief reading tour in California and British Columbia, however, things have been quite different. So far, there has been enough time in every place to see the area a bit, and everywhere there have been great and helpful people to show me around their campus or city. On the day of my arrival in Victoria, British Columbia, three students showed me the city, and it was wonderfully relaxed, entertaining, and instructive. (Especially “instructive” for me: In Canada there are hundreds of microbreweries—and they all produce great beer!) Thank you so much, Elise, Craig, and David!

On April 16, I gave a reading at the Open Space Gallery in Victoria, which, according to the presenter and based on the audience’s interest, was a great success. The event was organized by Charlotte Schallié, a very dedicated and active German professor at the University of Victoria, and sponsored by Pro Helvetia, the Department of Germanic and Slavic Studies at the University of Victoria, the Consulate General of Switzerland, Vancouver, and the Open Space Gallery. Charlotte Schallié welcomed everyone, and Danielle Janess read the English excerpts from Islands of the Dying Light and moderated the conversation that followed. A great number of students from the German Department showed up, and some Swiss women and men who live in this area came as well to get to know me and my books.

On April 18, my reading at St. John’s College at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, took place. Charlotte Schallié, who was accompanying me during this trip, also presented this evening event and moderated a discussion between me and the audience. I want to again thank Pro Helvetia and the Swiss Consulate for supporting this event, and to thank St. John’s College and the University of British Columbia as well.

Today, on Saturday, a spontaneous reading at a school here in Vancouver was arranged, initiated by a teacher who had attended my event at UBC. I’m using the time until I get picked up from my hotel to write this blog post. In the afternoon, there’ll still be enough time for a walk through Stanley Park and maybe a visit to the Vancouver Aquarium.

On April 21, I’ll fly back to New York, where more events, some long discovery tours of the city, and a lot of work are waiting for me. As you can see, writers lead quite a hectic and stressful life … ;- )

(Translation: Juliane Camfield)

*******************************************


20. April 2013:

Als Schriftsteller ist man viel unterwegs; entweder privat, um für den nächsten Roman zu recherchieren (das trifft zumindest auf mich zu…), oder man ist zu Lesungen und Vorträgen eingeladen. Im Idealfall versucht der Verlag, mehrere Lesungen in einem Land oder in einer Gegend zu organisieren, um lange Anfahrten für eine einzige Veranstaltung zu vermeiden. Oft ist es während diesen Lesereisen so, dass man von den Städten, die man besucht, nicht viel mehr sieht als den Bahnhof oder Flughafen, das Hotel und die Universität, das Literaturhaus, die Bibliothek oder die Buchhandlung, wo man liest. Auf meiner kleinen Lesetour durch Kalifornien und Kanada ist das anders; bisher war an jedem Ort genug Zeit, um etwas von der Gegend zu sehen, und überall waren tolle, hilfsbereite Menschen zur Stelle, um mich auf ihrem Campus oder in ihrer Stadt herumzuführen. Am Tag meiner Ankunft in Kanada wurde ich in Victoria, British Columbia, von drei Studenten in der Stadt herumgeführt, und es war herrlich entspannt, unterhaltsam und lehrreich. (Für mich besonders „lehrreich“: in Kanada gibt es hunderte kleiner Brauereien – und alle produzieren großartiges Bier!) Elise, Craig und David: thank you so much!

Am 16. April hatte ich eine Lesung in der „Open Space Gallery“ in Victoria, die laut Veranstalter und gemessen am Publikumsinteresse ein voller Erfolg war. Organisiert wurde der Anlass von Charlotte Schallié, einer engagierten und umtriebigen Deutschprofessorin an der University of Victoria, gesponsert wurde alles von Pro Helvetia, dem Department of Germanic and Slawic Studies (University of Victoria), dem Consulate General of Switzerland, Vancouver, und der Open Space Gallery, Victoria. Die Begrüßung übernahm Charlotte Schallié, die englischen Passagen aus Islands of the Dying Light las Danielle Janess, die auch das anschließende Gespräch mit mir führte. Erfreulich viele Studentinnen und Studenten des German Departments tauchten auf, und auch einige in der Region lebende Schweizerinnen und Schweizer nahmen die Gelegenheit wahr, mich und meine Bücher kennenzulernen.

Am 18. April fand die Lesung am St. John´s College an der University of British Columbia, Vancouver, statt. Charlotte Schallié, die mich auf dieser Reise begleitete, führte am Abend auch durch die Veranstaltung moderierte eine Diskussion mit mir und dem Publikum. Hier gilt mein Dank ebenfalls der Pro Helvetia und dem Schweizer Konsulat, natürlich aber auch dem St. John´s College und der University of British Columbia.

Heute, Samstag, hat sich hier in Vancouver eine spontane Lesung an einer Schule ergeben, angeregt durch eine Lehrerin, die bei meiner Veranstaltung an der UBC war. Die Zeit, bis ich im Hotel abgeholt werde, nutze ich für diesen Blog. Am Nachmittag bleibt dann noch genug Zeit für einen Spaziergang durch den Stanley Park und vielleicht einen Besuch im Vancouver Aquarium.

Am 21. fliege ich zurück nach New York City, wo weitere Termine, lange Entdeckungstouren durch die Stadt und viel Arbeit auf mich warten. Wie Ihr sehen könnt, führen Schriftsteller ein äußerst hektisches und stressiges Leben…  ;- )

THREE Rolf Lappert - April 14, 2013

April 14, 2013:

My talks and readings at UC Berkeley are over now. On Monday morning, I’ll fly from San Francisco to Victoria, British Columbia, where I have additional events lined up–in Vancouver, among other places. Here in Berkeley, I met many nice and interesting people and also discovered a lot during my strolls across campus, through the city, and even in the suburbs. These experiences have automatically been stored in my ”mental archive of images and impressions,” which is getting more crowded the older I get. Of course, I also took some real photos or had some taken: One shows me with Jeroen Dewulf, who organized my events at the university, in the other you can see me with Mark Twain, one of my favorite people and authors. Just chillin’ on a bench with my ol’ pal Mark. I’d have given anything if he’d come back to life for just five minutes!!

(Translation: Juliane Camfield and Franziska Wedler)

April 14, 2013:

Nun sind meine Vorträge und Lesungen an der University of California, Berkeley auch schon Geschichte; morgen Montag fliege ich von San Francisco nach Victoria, British Columbia, Kanada, wo weitere Veranstaltungen geplant sind, u. a. auch in Vancouver. Hier in Berkeley habe ich viele nette und interessante Menschen kennengelernt und auf meinen Spaziergängen über den Campus, durch die Stadt und bis in die Suburbs eine Menge entdeckt, das automatisch in meinem (mit zunehmendem Alter immer volleren) »Gehirnarchiv der Bilder und Impressionen« abgelegt wurde. Natürlich habe ich auch richtige Photos gemacht bzw. machen lassen: das eine der beiden zeigt mich mit Jeroen Dewulf, der an der Uni meine Veranstaltungen organisiert hat, auf dem anderen sieht man mich mit Mark Twain, einem meiner Lieblingsmenschen und –autoren. Just chillin´ on a bench with my ol´ pal Mark. Was hätte ich dafür gegeben, wenn er auch nur für fünf Minuten lebendig geworden wäre!!

TWO Rolf Lappert - April 11, 2013

April 11, 2013:

I’ve been in San Francisco since last night. Actually in Berkeley, close to San Francisco.  I’ll do a reading at the university here tonight, another one tomorrow. I’m staying at the Hotel Durant in Berkeley, right near the UC Berkeley campus. On the wall of my hotel room, there’s a poster for the film The Graduate, starring Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft—one of my all-time favorite movies!!! Some of the film’s scenes were shot here in Berkeley, a few of them even here on Durant Avenue, where my hotel is located. I am walking on historical ground! So I’ll start walking right now to look around; perhaps I’ll recognize a location I’ve seen in the film. And in June, when I’m back home again, I’ll get my DVD and watch it! (You can watch this film every couple of years—if only because of the great soundtrack by Simon & Garfunkel!)

(Translation: Juliane Camfield)

11. April, 2013:

Ich bin seit gestern Abend in San Francisco. Also eigentlich in Berkeley in der Nähe von San Francisco. Heute Abend werde ich eine Lesung an der hiesigen Uni haben, morgen eine weitere. Untergebracht bin ich im Hotel Durant, Downtown Berkeley, gleich neben dem Uni-Gelände. An der Wand meines Zimmers hängt das Plakat des Films The Graduate mit Dustin Hoffman und Anne Bancroft – einer meiner all-time Lieblingsstreifen!!!  Einige Szenen des Films wurden hier in Berkeley gedreht, u. a. sogar in der Durant Avenue, wo sich mein Hotel befindet. I am walking on historical ground! Ich werde gleich losmarschieren und mich umsehen; vielleicht erkenne ich einen Ort wieder, den ich im Film gesehen habe. Und im Juni, wenn ich wieder zu Haus e bin, werde ich mir gleich die DVD raussuchen und ansehen! (Den Film kann man sich alle paar Jahre ansehen – und wenn es nur wegen der großartigen Musik von Simon & Garfunkel ist!)

Q&A with Rolf Lappert

We have already introduced to you our current writer in residence Rolf Lappert. In the following interview you can find out more about his writing, the places that inspire him, and what makes him happy.

You started writing in your early twenties. What advice would you now give to your younger self?

Read! I only started writing after I had read hundreds of books and said to myself: “That’s what I want to do as well!”

What would you say is the most difficult aspect of being a writer?

Apart from creative dry spells that have to be overcome from time to time, financial problems can also make life difficult. As a full-time writer you never know whether your book will sell well and whether your material situation will remain stable for a while.

Which books and authors have influenced you the most?

That depended on my age. At the age of 18 or 19, I really admired authors like Ernest Hemingway and Charles Bukowski. Their style was straightforward and their stories full of life. Later, my expectations concerning style and composition grew and full of awe and admiration, I read novels by Philip Roth, Vladimir Nabokov, John Updike, Kurt Vonnegut, and other big names. 

Your latest novel, Pampa Blues, was published in February 2012 and deals with very diverse characters. To what extend can the reader find biographical aspects of your life in this novel or in your writing in general?

In my books you will never find any episodes or people based on my own biography; everything is fictional. That becomes especially obvious considering that I had a very protected and happy childhood – the very opposite of the character Wilbur in my novel Nach Hause schwimmen, or Megan and Tobey in Auf der letzten Insel des Lichts, or Ben in Pampa Blues. All those characters’ family structures have been destroyed or at least massively damaged, which makes it impossible for children to grow up carefree and happily.

As you will be speaking about the search for happiness at the PEN festival on May 3(here at Deutsches Haus), we were curious to know: What makes you happy?

Family, friendships, pristine nature, observing animals, great books and films, hikes, genuinely humane acts, a glass of Rioja in distinguished company, the song “Life is Sweet” by Natalie Merchant – I could go on forever, if I were to add the small, often very short moments of happiness that almost make life bearable and sometimes even make it seem meaningful.  

You have travelled quite a lot in your life, to places like Asia, the Caribbean, and the United States. What are some of the most the most fascinating places you have visited and why?

One of those places with a real wow factor was the desert of Arizona, which I first visited in 1992. I had seen this landscape in Hollywood movies countless times before – and suddenly there I was: right in the middle of it. Back then, I instantly knew: “I have to write a book that’s set here!” That turned out to be my 1994 novel Der Himmel der perfekten Poeten, which takes place in the middle of the desert in a former motel that has been converted into a writers’ residence by an old Italian industrialist. Of course, the writers there spend their time doing all kinds of things except writing. What fascinated me most about the desert was that any kind of story was possible there. I could come up with the most absurd ideas for my novel without anyone being able to complain: “But that’s unrealistic!” I had the same feeling when I was visiting some remote Philippine islands. So one of these islands is featured in Der Himmel der perfekten Poeten and another one, completely fictionalized, is the setting of my novel Auf den Inseln des letzten Lichts (2010).

What do you miss most when you are travelling?

Basically nothing. Sometimes a clean bathroom, a functioning shower, good vegetarian food, punctual trains, a night without noise.

Is there anything you definitely want to do or see while staying in New York?

I already saw all the tourist attractions during my last visit. Now I want to walk more and take the subway to the outer boroughs and explore those. Perhaps I will follow Max Frisch’s tracks and travel to Montauk.

What do you find most inspiring about New York?

The size, the vitality, the diversity – and as a writer, that (almost) any story is possible here.

What books are you reading right now?

I was already expecting that there would be some books in the apartment – which indeed turned out to be the case. So yesterday, after I arrived in New York, I started reading Schmidt’s Einsicht (Schmidt Steps Back) by Louis Begley. 

Do you already have plans for your next project?

I always have at least three projects “on hold.” More than a year ago, I started writing a novel that takes place in Hamburg, but I had to stop writing it because after having lived in Ireland for 11 years I returned to Switzerland and built a house there. I moved in a month ago and am still busy organizing everything. Hopefully, I will be able to finish this novel within the next 12 months. Another project is a young adult novel and the third volume of my Amerikanische Trilogie, which sits in my drawer half-finished.

(Translation: Juliane Camfield and Joanna Giese)