Dead just five years, and now the fame is coming: The godfather of pop literature, Wolfgang Welt, goes down in the canon. Two new and wonderful volumes with collected texts deal with the luck and misfortune of writing.
Of
Willi Winkler
He could have become someone like Brinkmann, the early one, of course, the one with the book as a weapon. To the late “Rom, Blick” he lacked the hatred for everyone and everything, because Wolfgang Welt was the most gentle person. The misfortune that befell him so generously seemed to have little effect on him. “My mother is getting on well with the remaining kidney,” he once reported on a card, “while this time it didn’t hit me that bad in terms of schizo.”