I fit into the foreign languagefrom my clavicle to my anklesinhaling otherness with the oxygenthe prickliness of fields of spiky poeticsmy heart is intentionally pumping fasterwarming up my clumsy attemptto turn into someone elseonly the soles of my feet feelthe otherness of the blades of grass as t
On the publication day of her latest book, penelopes sch( )iff, Ulrike Draesner is radiant. The German poet and novelist greets the camera from her Berlin study, surrounded by piles of research on ancient Greece and women’s voices across centuries. What she terms her “post-epic” reimagines The
Limerence and the Actress I am, for some at least, an object, a thing, and, grammatically-speaking, I can live with that. Philosophically, maybe not so much. From a psychological perspective, however, I can see why I might become an object of infatuation— you have to love some thing, you have to w
Recently published in English by Moth Books, in a luminous translation by Ruth Martin, Iris Wolff’s Blurred tells the story of four generations in the life of a German-speaking family from Romania. Over the century the family is scattered by economics, choice and exigency: the book opens in the Ba
