Karl May's Boots Are Made for Walking

I have another passion in life aside from German books, and that is walking. And now the German health ministry has got together with the country's libraries and booksellers to launch a "more walking" campaign by the name of "lesen bewegt" (reading moves you). As anyone who's tried it will know, though, it's very difficult to walk and read at the same time, especially in a busy city. So how does the whole thing work?

Bookstores and libraries are organising all sorts of weird and wonderful events, with nature walks to the library for children, walking tours on the trail of famous writers, and readings of famous literary walks. And booksellers are hoping to call attention to all those fitness books loitering inert on their shelves through the campaign too.

What I like best though is the posters and other advertising material showing literary legs. Check out Karl May's crotch-high leather boots and studded rifle, or Agatha Christie's matronly ankles and sensible shoes. Or even Thomas Mann's dapper slacks and spats in bookmark form.

I'm not sure whether the campaign will get readers walking - or walkers reading, for that matter - but it's certainly more appealing than one of the others on the same website: taking a brisk walk with the health minister herself under the pithy title Ulla Schmidt geht mit.

German Literature's Problems with Homosexuality

Last night saw the final event in the Literaturwerkstatt's series "Das Fremde und das Eigene" (I wrote about the other two here). And seeing as I get in to all their events for free for the next year, having won this fantastic treat in their prize draw, I could hardly not go, could I?

While the past events focused on migration and migrants in mainstream literature (or at least intended to do so), last night was dedicated to sexual identities. The panel consisted of:

Michael Lentz, writer, heterosexual
Inge Stephan, literary scholar, no sexual preference stated
Claudia Klitschat, writer, lesbian
Christina von Braun, cultural studies scholar, no sexual preference stated
Joachim Helfer, writer, gay
Detlef Grumbach, publisher, gay.

As you may have observed, I wouldn't usually state every participant's sexuality. But the event rather put a spotlight on it, as it asked why heterosexual authors fail to include gay and lesbian characters in their writing. A question which Michael Lentz was forced to try and answer, particularly as he was accused of sidestepping the issue in his novel Pazifik Exil, in which he ventriloquises various German exiles in California. Specifically, as he told us, he deliberately kept homosexuality in the closet, allowing Thomas Mann merely a few sidelong glances at male bodies and Oskar Pastior (whom he transplanted to the USA and for whom he invented an early death) a close male companion.

A number of possible explanations were put on the table. Lentz started out with what seemed the most honest - echoing the reasons other German authors had given for ignoring migrants in their writing - that he was concerned about authenticity. Von Braun argued that men have been creating female characters and indeed first-person narrators for generations, so why the concern? She also suggested that German society is very normative, not just when it comes to sexuality, having been through two splits down the middle - the Reformation and post-WWII. I think she might well have something there, although the exceptions that prove the rule have always been fascinating. And Helfer, who later became entrenched in a testosterone-laden political debate with Lentz, suggested what he called "holy fear". But as Grumbach emphasised (while Helfer seemed to disagree), there is no way to impose subject matters upon writers.

In the end, the event left us wanting more. It did address the question of "das Fremde und das Eigene" in a more focused way than its predecessors and it was interesting to combine what came out of them all. I'd say the series has highlighted one issue about German society: that it's not just those labelled minorities who live in their own little bubbles or "parallel societies". But the subject of representations of minorities in majority literature needs closer attention than it can ever be given in a couple of hours' readings and discussions.

I was most impressed by Joachim Helfer's book (with Rashid al Daif), Die Verschwulung der Welt. I suppose you could translate the title very loosely as "The World's Going Gay". The two authors met as part of a German-Arab cultural exchange, and al Daif very openly wrote down his feelings about meeting an out homosexual in Europe for the first time. Helfer responded in kind, criticising his colleague's own ideas of gender roles. To which, unfortunately, al Daif didn't get to respond (at least not in writing).

Initially, I felt rather sorry for Michael Lentz, who ended up a bit of a scapegoat. But the man was so self-possessed - and put his arguments across so well - that he didn't need anyone's sympathy. Incidentally, he could also more than compete with Feridun Zaimoglu on the clunky jewellery front, something I always grudgingly admire in a man. Determined to get the last word, he pointed out that his students on the Leipzig creative writing programme have gradually begun to take a "so what?" approach to their own sexualities, after initially often making a big song and dance of their literary comings-out. So perhaps the youngest generation of German writers will find gay and lesbian characters a less scary prospect - now that homosexuals are at least more or less equal in the eyes of the law here.

Özdogan Gives Free Live Online Reading

For all Selim Özdogan's many fans out there, why not set aside Tuesday night (CET) to spend in front of the computer? He'll be reading live in Düsseldorf - and for a limited number of online listeners registered here.

Özdogan is a veteran literary entertainer, who really makes the most of his many readings to commune with his audience. I just hope he doesn't tell the story about his translator and her choice of genital nouns.

I can't make it, but watch this space for other opportunities to catch the man himself live.

Wolff Translator's Prize to John Hargraves

As the Chicago Goethe-Institut announced, this year's Helen and Kurt Wolff Translator's Prize goes to John Hargraves for his version of Michael Krüger's Turiner Komödie, in English The Executor. The Complete Review describes the book as a "fairly well-done writerly/publishing tragi-comedy".

Hargraves, who has taught German at various universities and authored, edited and translated various books, often with a music focus, receives $10,000 and gets to spend a month on the shore of the Wannsee at the Literary Colloquium in Berlin (where I believe last year's winner, David Dollenmayer, is currently sojourning as we speak). Interestingly, he is also a bit of an expert on Philip Roth and has edited a number of translations of his work into German. Roth has had seven different German translators over the years, so a consistent editor is probably an excellent idea. The jury chose Hargraves' book from over fifty fiction and non-fiction submissions.

There'll be an award ceremony in Chicago on 8 June. Congratulations!

Franzen Translating Again

I've written about Jonathon Franzen's illustrious career as a translator from German before. And it seems he's back in Berlin, giving readings and interviews again. Various papers reported on his appearance at the Temporary Art Hall on the rubble of the Palace of the Republic, including the Süddeutsche Zeitung. Apparently, he charmed the whole audience by making an effort to speak in German - on the subject of "sex, literature and the German language".

The sex was sadly non-existent, with Franzen talking about how he never managed to get into any German knickers as a Fulbright student in Munich and Berlin. The literature was Kafka - hard - Mann - perfect formalism - and the low profile of German authors in the US. And the German language was the medium.

Beforehand, Franzen gave an interview to Gregor Dotzauer of the Tagesspiegel, revealing that he and Daniel Kehlmann have been working on a second translation after polishing up his first one of Wedekind's Spring Awakening together. Translation, he says, is fun (below are my re-translations):

I'm just working on essays by Karl Kraus. My friend Daniel Kehlmann is helping me. There's an almost finished version of "Heine und die Folgen" and a less finished one of "Nestroy und die Nachwelt", which I've had to put aside because I have to hand in a novel by the end of the year. Otherwise I'm a dead man. Every one of Kraus's sentences is like a new crossword puzzle for me. And there are some things that'll never be translated quite right. What is "Geist" in English? There's nothing you can do. And Nestroy plays with all the word's nuances of meaning.

Asked about more contemporary stuff, he answers:

My pile of unread German literature is growing and growing. But I've read half of Daniel Kehlmann's "Ruhm". And I'm surrounded by piles of American books. I could tell you more about Thomas Bernhard and Peter Handke or Günter Grass. I read "Peeling the Onion" in English, but I found it was written from a strong inner need, which you can't necessarily say of many of his previous books. I think it was treated very unfairly here (in Germany).

I noted last time that he has a very dated view of German literature, and I find that confirmed here. Each to his own and all that, but I do wonder if he's not missing out on something.

Update: You can watch a short video with audience reactions via the Goethe-Institut's Current Writing blog.

A Little Bit of Local Politics

This Sunday is polling day in Berlin. But the ballot papers won't feature a list of parties and candidates, but a simple "yes" or "no". Unfortunately, the issue at hand isn't all that simple, as Spiegel reports in English here.

It's a referendum over whether to make children aged 12 and up decide between "Ethics" and "Religion" as part of the curriculum. Ethics was introduced at Berlin's high schools as a compulsory subject in 2006, in response to an "honour killing" and what some saw as inter-ethnic violence at schools. Pupils can still choose to take Religion too, which is taught by the respective church or organisation - Protestants, Catholics, Jews and Muslims are thus taught separately, provided there are enough of them at any one school to make up a class.

Don't get this "religious education" confused with what kids learn in Britain, though. They don't learn about the beliefs and customs of different faiths, tolerance and understanding. As a proud atheist in the fourth generation, I genuinely enjoyed RE at school, as it also gave us a chance to discuss ethics in a very inclusive and accepting way. But I often find Germans are rather ignorant about other religions, perhaps because they didn't have this privilege at school.

The "proReli" campaign behind the referendum is supported by the churches, the Jewish Community, one Muslim association and the CDU, and has a number of celebrities calling for "freedom of choice". They feel it is important for children to be taught ethics separately according to religion, and argue that fewer pupils are opting for Religion now, as it is usually offered after core teaching hours.

The "proEthik" campaign, on the other hand, is less glamorous, with not a celebrity to be seen. But way back in January, the writer Julia Franck chimed in with a very interesting essay in Spiegel magazine. Franck wrote the winner of the 2007 German Book Prize, set to be published in the UK as The Blind Side of the Heart. Which I'm sure I've mentioned before is a stonking good read and very thought-provoking.

Franck points out all the good sides of talking about ethics with children of all faiths together, and the possible consequences of splitting them all up again. She argues that Ethics lessons could be used to teach about all the religions, including visits to temples, mosques, churches and synagogues: "Competition between the state and religion is neither natural nor necessary. Particularly in a globalised and pluralist society, every German school pupil ought to learn about different religions, their history, ideas and practices."

What she doesn't mention is what for me is the larger issue. For the plebiscite to succeed, forcing the authorities to take action and make pupils choose between Ethics and Religion, the proReli campaign needs 610,000 "yes" votes. I personally doubt they'll reach this target, and as a parent, I also hope they won't. But who actually gets to vote? Is it all parents of school-aged children? Is it even perhaps school-aged children themselves?

Perish the thought. It's all German citizens registered in Berlin. Now if you know anything about German nationality law and demographics, the warning bells should start ringing about now. Because that excludes the 470,004 individuals in Berlin who don't hold a German passport. And, as the demographics show, these people are more likely to have more children than your old ethnic Germans, plagued as they are by stress and career pressure. And non-German nationals are also less likely to belong to the dominant Protestant church, which provides most religious education at Berlin's schools. So I for one, and many of the other parents at my daughter's school, won't have any say whatsoever over whether our children are taught ethics together or separately in the future. And that's the real scandal.

Update: proReli lost the referendum, with about 48.5% of votes, and failed to reach the required quorum. Berlin's protestant Bishop Wolfgang Huber expressed his disappointment but hoped that the churches would work more closely with Ethics classes in future - echoing Franck's suggestion, perhaps.

Free the Word!

I caught two events in the excellent Free the Word! festival in London, which Chad Post reports on too at Three Percent. In fact I saw him at one of them and introduced myself, then fawned embarrassingly and had to leave before making a complete and utter fool of myself. I did manage to use correct grammar and full sentences, though, which Post seems to assume is a characteristic of the British. He obviously didn't travel on many buses during his stay in London, then, where the cuss quotient is significantly higher than in the gorgeous Underglobe venue. My mum (not really in a position to criticise, having sported the world's silliest maiden name) took the piss out of "Pad Chost" on the way home - isn't that a Thai dish?

The first event I went to had great potential. Telling Secret Lives saw the writers Azar Nafisi and Lee Stringer and the translator Wen Huang talking about writing about lives we don't hear about - young women in Iran, black kids at a Jewish reform school and inmates in Chinese prisons. Unfortunately, the chair was so much on another planet that the discussion didn't come together, mainly because, you know, two of the people up there had little to say about Iranian film. But no doubt all the Persian film buffs in the audience were well pleased at this unexpected bonus.

That made the second discussion shine all the more. Entitled Hell on Earth, it brought together the journalists Lydia Cacho from Mexico, Carolin Emcke of Der Spiegel and the Danish novelist Christian Jungersen, all chaired by the excellent Peter Beaumont from the Observer. He really held tight onto the reins but let the speakers do their thing, and the resulting discussion was fascinating. Cacho exposed a child abuse ring in Mexico and was subsequently arrested and tortured - but is still writing about violence against women and children today. Emcke has reported from war zones and crisis regions around the world. And Jungersen based his novel The Exception, about bullying in the workplace, on personal experience.

All of them had obviously thought long and hard about how best to put hell into words on paper, and shared their ideas with us. But the discussion was also about the effect those words have on their readers, with the idea in the room that fiction is often better placed to touch our emotions than the flood of news writing and the accompanying images we see so much of. I'd say that while reporters on the ground are absolutely essential to gather the facts (and assess whether what they gather is true), fiction does have an important role to play. Think of how (German) novels have captured the public imagination, dealing with and interpreting anything from the bourgeoisie in the GDR to Jews in the Third Reich to the role of the West in the Rwandan genocide. Of course they can never be as immediate as news journalism, but perhaps they can also live longer lives for that very reason.

Interestingly, Carolin Emcke has experienced this issue at first hand. After every stint reporting abroad she sent letters to her friends, trying to bridge the gap between her experiences of war and human brutality and their everyday lives. And their response was often of shock and horror - how terrible that these things are happening! Yet, she said, they are all well-informed people who follow the news. It seems that by imagining someone they know in that situation, they could relate to it all the better, rather like following a character through the events of a novel. We all need that spark of human interest, it would appear, to feel with people on the ground.

The letters are published in the book Echoes of Violence, which I brought home with me and will no doubt review in more detail later. Emcke wrote them in English but they were translated into German for the original publication. Apparently this way a fairly painful process, as she initially found it strange to read her own words in someone else's language.

The festival has sprouted legs and will be striding over to various cities around the world, starting in the European cultural capital Linz, Austria, in October.

In other news, I met the wonderful people behind the City-Lit travel guides, Oxygen Books. Look forward to their book on Berlin, scheduled for October. And that's an order!

I also went to the magnificently appointed Daunt Books in Chelsea, which had a gorgeous display in the window revolving around Hans Fallada's Every Man Dies Alone - but incorporating history books and related novels. By the way, did you know Fallada's novel is based on the actual case of Otto and Elise Hampel, who wrote and distributed anti-Nazi leaflets in Berlin?

And waiting for me at home was a letter from the Literaturwerkstatt Berlin - I've won a year's free entry to all their events in a prize draw. What better surprise for a German book lover?