If you ask him how much autobiographical there is in Beating fists on the world, the novel which revealed him as one of the most significant voices of the new German literature and which in Italy is proposed by Keller (pp. 316, euro 18.50, translation by Scilla Forti), replies, bashful, «much and nothing at all same time”. Yet Lukas Rietzschel, born in 1994 near Bautzen and who now lives in Görlitz, two towns in Saxony where the extreme right is at home, is a contemporary of the brothers Philipp and Tobi, of whom in his intense narrative debut he recounts the uncertain sentimental education between the ghosts of the GDR and the sinister fascination exercised by the neo-Nazi subculture. Between 2000 and 2015, the two young protagonists, who grow before our eyes page following page, somehow creating all sorts of existential reference points by themselves, guide us in the discovery of a world, its codes and its many uncertainties. . Also thanks to a direct language that delves into the anxieties of the characters, the novel thus ends up fully rendering the sense of disorientation that seems to dominate this part of Germany. Rietzschel will present the book tomorrow in Milan as part of Book Pride – at 1.30 pm in Sala Ottawa with Fabio Deotto.
Closed factories, badly paid jobs, uncertainty: the scenario in which the characters move evokes the idea of an end, an abandonment, the difficulty of cultivating new dreams. Do you tell a survivor story?
The novel deals with the end of illusions. Many former citizens of the GDR strongly desired access to individual freedom, to a general improvement of their living conditions, to status symbols. But, wanting to briefly summarize how things went (following the fall of the Wall, ndr) have become victims of a neoliberal market logic that they had previously perceived only as a sort of fetishized decalcomania and not in its real revolutionary and incapacitating power.
If this is the general scenario, then there are the young protagonists of the story: what fuels the anger that seems to feed Tobi and Philipp, who will also know different landings?
I grew up feeling like no one was waiting for me. My high school counselor suggested I leave the region. He told me: “There’s nothing here for you.” People are gone, opportunities are reduced to a minimum. I didn’t feel there was a future around here. It is this feeling that I experienced firsthand that I tried to describe in the novel. As for anger, Tobi in particular seems to believe that he can draw attention to himself only through aggression and hatred. In her world, behind the destructive profile it appears as a productive force.
Philipp, the older brother, explains to a friend that the group of racist and violent boys with whom he is related are not “Nazis”. How did the far-right subculture so widespread in regions like Saxony come regarding?
He argues that there is nothing wrong with pride in one’s heritage. Elsewhere too, he says, one is proud of one’s country. However, he completely ignores the fact that behind all this there is contempt for others. At the same time he sees in this “pride” a sort of healing possibility for all the sad and bent figures that surround him. In this regard, right-wing rhetoric follows universal clichés: it says that external forces, bans, elites oppress their own people. And that it therefore appears legitimate to get rid of them by force of arms.
Speaking of the acts of racism in the former DDR, the emphasis is often placed on the existence of a juvenile extremist circuit, but in the novel many of the parents share their children’s aversion to foreigners. How are things?
I believe that talking regarding a mix of these elements is correct. On the one hand, right-wing groups in the early 1990s offered a sense of belonging, a worldview, a community. Above all, Philipp is looking for a group to belong to. Later it becomes clear to him that he does not share the ideological vision, however. Tobi is different. On the other hand, there are the parents. The Cuban, Syrian or Vietnamese contract workers who worked in the GDR factories lived separated from the rest of the population in the suburbs. There were no exchanges with “foreigners”, no culture of hospitality, no integration. This has allowed prejudice to flourish. Many parents watched and applauded when the Hoyerswerda and Rostock refugee centers were burned down (in ’91 and ’92 respectively, ndr). They thought: finally someone does something.
More than 30 years have passed since the “Wende” (the turning point) which marked the end of the GDR and the beginning of German reunification. The novel takes place between 2000 and 2015, would you describe the situation today in the same terms?
The traumas have not yet been processed. Much of the novel has to do with communication between generations, which doesn’t work because the past “gets in the way”. And this still happens. Gangs of juvenile predators, on the other hand, no longer exist in that form. The state has become more aware of the problem and civil society is also taking a clearer position. Right-wing structures have expanded and institutionalized differently. Now there are right-wing “settlers”, right-wing parties, right-wing music festivals, right-wing foundations. They no longer aim at a violent reversal of the situation, but at a slow change. Even if their goal remains the same.