A writer is looking for a subject. Not so easy with the second novel: “The second book should be better than the first. Show development, gained maturity. Surprise and yet carry a tone that was her very own.” Now that the first publication has been completed, the writer has set her sights higher: “Now it was the work. A work that was ready for analysis.”
With these sentences from her novel “Iglhaut” (Rowohlt), foisted on an unnamed “writer”, Katharina Adler certainly also describes her own situation. Four years ago, the 42-year-old Munich author received a lot of praise and awards such as the Bavarian Art Promotion Prize for her debut novel “Ida” about her own great-grandmother. How to tie in? Or take a whole new direction with the second book?
Adler makes this quest part of her novel. “Why not a story about a virus that afflicted mankind?” ponders her writer. “But the thought bored her the moment she only half thought it.” Or write about your own household, as a friend advises? The writer in the novel, actually tired of her city, initially brusquely rejects the idea and then warms up to it: “Isn’t there a deeper meaning? That she first had to deal with her surroundings in order to free herself from them forever? “
In any case, Katharina Adler has freed herself – and one, possibly her own Munich household set a monument. Because the “writer” as a character is more of a side kick, playfully refers to a meta-level on which the often precarious working conditions of authors are also negotiated. But the eponymous figure is more present on the almost 300 pages of the novel: the Iglhaut.
Of rattling and gossip
This Iglhaut is a woman in her mid-40s who lives alone but lives in diverse company and is as prickly as her somewhat pretentious artificial name is supposed to indicate. Her carpenter’s workshop in the garage in the courtyard is the focal point of the urban apartment building. A wide variety of residents pass by here, from the supermarket cashier to the joint-smoking nurse, chatting and gossip or even sharing the crossword puzzle win of an all-inclusive trip to Egypt. And they help each other – even if it’s just with tips on where the cheapest way to remedy the penetrating dental problems would be.
“Iglhaut” tells a detailed story of everyday life, of solidarity among people who, at first glance, seem to have nothing more in common than the same address. It is an affectionate book in which, looking closely at the neighbors, one thinks one can tell that the past two years have been spent in narrow circles. As it is said once: Especially the everyday tasks give structure. “A clean wiped surface, washed glasses in the drainer: a sense of achievement. Moments of clarity in uncertain times.” So nothing spectacular happens in this novel. But sympathetically bulky characters like the carpenter Iglhaut stick in the memory.
“Everyone, everyone, they had to stay together, here in the yard, all night and until the next morning, no, forever“, this Iglhaut thinks once, when towards the end of the novel there is actually a celebration in the courtyard. “She wanted to hug. Praise the beauty of your existence.” Katharina Adler has redeemed this with this book. The “writer” of her novel, on the other hand, rejects her project – and moves to Berlin.
Katharina Adler: Iglhaut. Reading on Monday, May 2, 8 p.m., Literaturhaus, hall and stream tickets at literaturhaus-muenchen.de