three years before the disaster in Copenhagen, the convention appeared "Wrong Heaven" by Liane Dirks. Life in the climate crisis. The thermometer 40 ° beyond the border, ozone levels at dizzying heights, bungee jumpers plunge into the depths of absurd, absurd, yes, because the reader does not know why they do that also are exposed to ozone rigorously. They fall from dizzying heights at the window 18th Floor by where behind the window glass writes her diary, her writing life to somehow get a grip on, something to hold on life so that it gets even make any sense. For months, this heat, before hurricanes, Europe in the mud, because lakes were turned into seas. Now there is hardly anything Essse, the woman does not have cucumbers in stock, her daughter wanders around in empty streets. The woman is visited by several friends, also from Donati, who once had a puppet theater, an actor was, but now not caring even for his child that he can be as bad for too long under the deadly sunlight. With the woman he sleeps with a temperature of 37 °, ozone: 394 This will probably soon be her last tango before the excruciating heat and ozone, the fucking her life perhaps one could make farewell.
"Still. The world tends her skeleton to the east."
I liked not at the novel, not because I'm such a 'laconic sentences as they weave through the novel, does not like but because they create sentences no internal stress, is to say, I do not guessed it possible to heat , even from the threat posed by the climate crisis, not a breath can be felt. The language of this novel is verskelettitiert, I do not feel any lower dimensions between the lines. Only weak, clear images graze my imagination. The characters completely colorless, no characters. And that's really true. I wonder how one can write only as a novel, particularly since no substantive rigor is also to be found. It is a disaster. The characters seem so bleak and lifeless, as though scorched by the heat even the flesh of her bones.
course you can always come up with defenses, the author has deliberately written so mean, because it describes a sparse brittle world. Since I'm not sure, since Cormac McCarthy could represent a post-apocalyptic world unkarg, and it was still pretty menacing. Literature has also somehow always be beautiful, even if it is sparse, which will be described.
I'm assuming that this novel was a slip of the author. Her first novel "The love fear" (applies to Kiepenheuer & Dry) "as a standard reference on the subject of sexual abuse."
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