As a teenager, our author thought the novel “Meat is my Vegetables” was great. Today she only finds Heinz Strunk’s books corrosive. A rant on his new short story volume.
The following scenario could have happened: The publisher writes an email to Heinz Strunk: Tell me, Heinz, do you still have a few texts lying around? We should get something from you quickly. And while you’re at it, take a look at an episode of “Lanz” soon, preferably when that Precht is jumping around there again. Write something about it, it might be funny. Said and done. Next, Strunk grabs a pen and paper and goes to Hamburg’s Bahnhofsviertel, a place where the greatest abysses are known to be lurking. He sits down on a bench, shields himself with a newspaper and looks through a peephole.