Dance by the Canal E-Book

Kerstin Hensel

• Herausgeber: Peirene Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

A tragicomic satire from the heart of East Germany. Gabriela grows up in the East German town of Leibnitz. Her father is a famous surgeon, her mother a respected society hostess. The girl, however, struggles to fulfil their expectations. She shows no talent as a violinist and, worse, she fails to choose the right friends at school. When her father falls out of favour with the communists, Gabriela drops out of school. Eventually she ends up living beneath a canal bridge. Then the Wall falls. Can Gabriela seize a second chance in the new, united, Germany? Why Peirene chose to publish this book: 'When I pass homeless women, I look into their faces and wonder: why her and not me? I sense that maybe our differences are not as great as I would like to believe. Dance by the Canal tells the story of a woman who fails to find her place in society - neither in communist GDR nor in the capitalist West. Her refusal to conform to the patriarchal structures of both societies forces her into ever-increasing isolation. This book will make you think.' Meike Ziervogel, publisher at Peirene Press 'An intense story… grotesque, macabre, poetic.'Neues Deutschland 'An authentic story of East Germany.' Die Ost-West-Wochenzeitung '30 years of East German history narrated with laconic irony.' Die Zeit

Leseprobe

MEIKE ZIERVOGEL PEIRENE PRESS

When I pass homeless women, I look into their faces and wonder: why her and not me? I sense that maybe our differences are not as great as I would like to believe. Dance by the Canal tells the story of a woman who fails to find her place in society – neither in the communist GDR nor in the capitalist West. Her refusal to conform to the patriarchal structures of both societies forces her into ever-increasing isolation. This book will make you think.

Contents

Title PageDance by the CanalAbout the Author and TranslatorCopyright

Dance by the Canal

Now that I’m sitting down here by the left pillar of the bridge with this large, smooth sheet of packing paper at my feet, I feel joy for the first time in years. It’s no coincidence that fate has brought me this paper – I’ve been chosen to write. I’ve been put on this earth for no other purpose than to tell the story of my life, and today I will begin.

Up on the bridge it’s hot, a once-in-a-century July day. Air shimmers over the asphalt. Squinting up, I see silver and grey, car tyres, women’s legs, men’s legs, children, dogs. Up on the bridge life is sweating, the city is baking. Here, where I’m sitting, it’s cool. The canal drifts serenely by. It’s so hot that from time to time the water stops flowing, or changes direction, or becomes a thick mush. But it’s cool under my bridge. I squat against the damp stone wall, my hair sticking to the back of my neck, water from the bridge soaking into my shirt. Dripstones and moss lurk in the dark vaults above me. Drops quiver on the tips of stalactites and don’t fall for a long, long time, and then they splash onto the stony embankment, or onto my knees. Sometimes it can take days for a drop to fall from the deck of the bridge. The bridge is always damp, water is constantly seeping from its old stones. It’s a good thing that I don’t have to sweat like the people up in the city, it’s a good thing that I’m not radiating heat like a car tyre, or having to rush to work, or hurry home thirsty.