Four books are splashed all over the German reviews sections right now, none of which I will be reviewing because I am a grumpy old woman. Here's what they are and why I don't like them:
Norbert Gstrein: Die ganze Wahrheit
A thinly veiled massive bitching session about Germany's most prominent publishing widow, Ulla Berkéwicz-Unseld. Surely no one expects anyone outside the German publishing world to give a shit?
Daniel Kehlmann: Lob
While the critics are having fun pouring scorn over young whippersnapper Kehlmann, I'm wondering why he hardly writes about any writers but dead ones in his essays in praise of literature.
Thomas Hettche: Die Liebe der Väter
The press is having a field day. Hettche's written a short novel about an unmarried father and his difficult relationship to his estranged daughter - just when the German courts have ruled on custody rights for unmarried fathers. I suspect it's excellent - I just don't want to go there.
Franka Potente: Zehn
The actress has written a book of short stories set in Japan. It would be bad for my karma to explain why the reviews are mostly outside of the literature section.