Mit Aussicht

For some years now I changed my reading habits bit by bit in the direction of a feminist point of view. While reading the many classic novels of great men is still a visceral pleasure, it is even more interesting, when you have something to compare it to – from the 'other side' of the gender perspective. My first introduction to female writing, or more precisely to female thoughts about the writing process, was Virginia Woolfs much acclaimed Orlando. I remember being utterly fascinated by her writing abilities, switching the gender of the main figure in the middle of the text and still sounding 'real'. Woolfs novel made me realize that there is a huge difference in the writing of men and women when it comes to topics and style, but at the same time there is one important fact you should never forget: Even though Freud postulated (again) that women are the inferior gender, the emotional one, they are in no way less capable to produce art. They just do it differently.

The literature history of female writing is a relatively new field of literature science, but it led to many female writers being rediscovered. We learned a lot about the social factors, under which female writing was possible (or impossible) and why they often were not as successful as their male counterparts. Adding to this complex subject the themes of general globalization and questions of identity in a world, where everything seems to get smaller and less important, women writers again started their quest to find their place. This leads me to my discovery of West Indian Literature, especially the literature of Black Women of the West Indies and most recently the novels of Jamaica Kincaid.

This writer seems extraordinarily alien to me. I am a young white woman from Central Europe, I grew up in a society that does not tell me to stay at home with children if I don't want to, I am mostly independent and it was clear, that I could become anything I want. And then there is this Caribbean writer, growing up on an island in the warm sun, within a colonial society and knowing, that her brothers were expected to become doctors or lawyer, while she herself wasn't supposed to harbour such aspirations. I first read her essay A small island and was blown away by her anger and resentment within this controlled, cool language. Annie John and Lucy followed soon after and just a few weeks ago I picked up an anthology of Caribbean Women Writers in the 20^th century. My fascination does not cease in the face of the diversity of language, style and themes.

Silently I already decided to go back to my beginnings after that, reading the other works of Virginia Woolf and then trying to find the voices of Women in contemporary German Literature.

In this post I will tell you of some of my problems with translating a novel from Latvian into German (yeah, I'll be whining...) and of my language learning processes.

Have you ever encountered something so alien that your mind refused to acknowledge its' right of existence at first? Something that leaves you bewildered and astonished at how someone could possibly come up with it? Now, I had that feeling - and maybe you'll have it, too. Meet the Russian Futurists!

Today is Saturday and I've been planning things for a long time. Therefore you'll not read a literature-related post today, because I am simply too busy elsewhere to write much. Instead I am going to show you some lame pictures of my side project away from the writing desk.

via wikipedia.

In this post we will have a look at the East-German literature between 1950 and 1989. The gap between the nations is still felt today and I will present some authors, who published novels about life in the GDR in the recent years.

When I was a kid, I used to read unter my blanket on sunday mornings, when my parents refused to get up to entertain me. I had a lot of books to choose from - children's books, picture books, comics, some books my siblings used to read. The heros of my books then were ordinary people.
My favorite was Lütt Matten, son of a fisherman on the baltic sea, who never catches a fish. His friends laugh at him and call him the "Reusenadmiral". Naturally he catches the best fish in the end and saves the day. I bought this book again last year, because my mother couldn't find it anywhere. We moved a lot, when I was young and sometimes things got lost.

When I read the books of my childhood again today, I sometimes wonder about their cruelty, which I cannot remember from my childhood. Let's have a look at two examples.