I was asked whether I'm going to post a "top books of the year" list, and the answer is no. Because literature is not a competitive sport, don't you know.
Instead, I proudly present the top five loveliest German authors I have had dealings with this year, in no particular order:
Selim Özdogan - for all his support and for reminding me I'm not fifteen any more. I'm looking forward to Zwischen zwei Träumen early next year.
Antje Rávic Strubel - for the wine I didn't drink and a very entertaining evening.
Ingo Schulze - for asking an expert and understanding how one might be intimidated by sitting behind Volker Braun - and for the just plain enjoyable summer story Adam und Evelyn.
Ron Winkler - for providing the wonderful poem for our translation idols to get their teeth into, and for being the perfect guest.
And last but not least, because I'm a hypocrite at heart, Clemens Meyer, for my book of the year, Die Nacht, die Lichter.
1 comment:
"Because literature is not a competitive sport"
Ha! Tell that to the authors. Just finished "Words in the Air", the correspondence between Robert Lowell and Elizabeth Bishop. They were obsessed with ranking their fellow poets (and each other).
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