WARUM STERBEN SO VIELE KATZEN IN DIESEM BUCH????????

Hmm... I had a very strange relationship with this text: every day I genuinely looked forward to returning to the book... almost longed for the forest... but once I was back, I felt somehow lost, and I rarely found myself craving chapters or any anchor points as much as I did here. There is something special about this text, but I'm not sure whether "special" means "good." I suspect that it has to do with how the text communicates with the reader. So [b: The Wall |29367958|The Wall of Winnipeg and Me|Mariana Zapata|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1456774327l/29367958._SY75_.jpg|48358625] is a novel about a woman forced to live in isolation behind an invisible wall, published in... <i>*double-checking my notes*</i> ...1963?! The language is genuinely impressive in its timelessness and clarity. Then the wall is introduced, and I'm still undecided about whether it isn't simply a stylistic gimmick. Because the wall has no real impact on the protagonist: she barely questions it, nor does she feel any genuine urge to escape it. For her, the wall doesn't actually make much of a difference. Remove the handful of sentences about the wall, and what remains is essentially the daily log of a farmwoman living far from civilization, perpetually exhausted. But then the question arises whether there is something voluntary about the protagonist being behind the wall: <blockquote> "Perhaps the wall was just the last desperate attempt of a tormented person who had to break out, break out, or go mad. Among other things, the wall also killed boredom." </blockquote> I can't say the wall killed my boredom. The initially great prose simply fails to sustain itself over time. The sentences are clear, yes, but they are not stimulating: they just stand side by side and generate nothing between them. The daily routine is, admittedly, repetitive by design, but it is also simply not engaging. This is compounded by the fact that Haushofer immediately kills every tension: the symbiotic relationship with the animals was the element I found most compelling, and it had real narrative potential... but then she foreshadows everything. Why? I had just started to form a relationship. There is also barely any existential weight to it, because we know she survived and wrote the text. What bothered me most, I think, is that the text communicates very little with me. As a reader, I want to be involved... to be part of the book, to genuinely feel alongside the protagonist. Instead, I observe her as if through an invisible wall. But as a reader, I barely exist, cause other people don't exist for her. I'm still really torn by this book.

Ich habe gemischte Gefühle zu diesem Buch. Die ersten Seiten habe ich regelrecht verschlungen, doch je länger die Erzählerin ihren Alltag beschreibt, desto mehr musste ich mich durchringen weiterzulesen. Es gibt keine Kapitel, die Handlung ist reduziert, fast protokollartig und dieses „Wenig“ an Ereignissen hat mich zeitweise unruhig gemacht und sogar etwas gelangweilt. Gleichzeitig liegt genau darin eine besondere Qualität: Die Ruhe, die Wiederholungen und die scheinbare Ereignislosigkeit wirken beinahe philosophisch. Das Buch zwingt einen zur Entschleunigung und konfrontiert einen mit der Frage, warum uns Stille und Stillstand so schwer auszuhalten fallen. Wir sind es ja kaum noch gewohnt, dass nichts Spektakuläres passiert. Trotz oder vielleicht gerade wegen dieser Ambivalenz hat mir „Die Wand“ insgesamt gut gefallen.

Für Menschen die gerne einen Arbeitsbericht lesen perfekt. Not me.

So unaufgeregt und doch so gut!! Es passiert nicht viel und gleichzeitig werden existenzielle themen verarbeitet, hab ich schon 2x gelesen und jedes mal geliebt.