Als Leben zu kurz, als Roman zu schön, um wahr zu sein: Das Beste, was bislang über Hoppe geschrieben wurde!
›Hoppe‹ ist keine Autobiographie, sondern Hoppes Traumbiographie, in der Hoppe von einer anderen Hoppe erzählt: von einer kanadischen Kindheit auf dünnem Eis, von einer australischen Jugend kurz vor der Wüste, von Reisen über das Meer und von einer Flucht nach Amerika. Hoppes Lebens- und Reisebericht wird zum tragikomischen Künstlerroman, mit dem sie uns durch die Welt und von dort aus wieder zurück in die deutsche Provinz führt, wo ihre Wunschfamilie immer noch auf sie wartet. Eine Geschichte über vergebliche Wünsche, gescheiterte Hochzeiten und halbierte Karrieren. Und über das unbestreitbare Glück, ein Kind des Rattenfängers aus Hameln zu sein.
Her work often deals with transitory themes, as in "Picknick der Friseure", in a comical, but nevertheless thrilling way, which make her stories seem to be absurd. She also uses the technique of quotation for her novels, as in "Johanna", where she reconstructs the story of Joan of Arc using official case records.[1] As a relatively young, successful and female writer, she belongs to a group of writers which literary criticism calls the "Fräuleinwunder".
For her work as a writer she received the following awards: in 1994 Alfred-Döblin-Stipendium (a scholarship), in 1996 Aspekte-Literaturpreis and the Ernst-Willner-Preis at the Festival of German-Language Literature in Klagenfurt, in 1997 the Rauriser Literaturpreis, in 2004 the Nicolas Born-Preis des Landes Niedersachsen, the Heimito von Doderer-Literaturpreis and the Spycher: Literaturpreis Leuk, in 2005 the Brüder-Grimm-Preis der Stadt Hanau. In 2005 she also held the Poetikdozentur: junge Autoren der Fachhochschule Wiesbaden. In 2007 she received Literaturpreis der Stadt Bremen and the Roswitha-Preis. In 2008 Hoppe held the Bert Brecht Gastprofessur at the University of Augsburg.
In 2012, Felicitas Hoppe was awarded the most prestigious literary prize in German literature, the Georg Büchner Prize.
As a girl, K had a terrible urge for the up. Trees were her preferred medium: the most convenient a large, broad branched sycamore in the woods across the field at the back of her house. On one memorable occasion, a heroic hawthorn ascent in the neighbours' garden, spurred on by the plaintive mewings of the small white kitten halfway up. K returned from that particular escapade marked in more ways than one. Physically: a hawthorn is not named whimsically, but for very good, and painful, reasons. And psychologically too, since the kitten did not choose to show gratitude for its rescue. (This has been cited as a possible reason for a distinct lack of sentimentality in the later K oeuvre KM) Seaside holidays provided K with further opportunities to test her fascination for the vertical, and also with the opportunity to experience at first hand (and foot, and inside of arms and legs) the instability of a scree slope. (Referenced in the story: Stones on a Bald Man's Head (editor's note)) Nothing was ever made of this particular urge, at that time it would hardly have been thinkable for K's rather conventional parents to encourage her to take up a career as a climber, of any kind. However she was rescued from misery at the girls' high school she went to at the age of 10; despite a fairly promising academic ability (mostly confined, it must be said, to imitating accents) she was removed to a place where her remarkable lack of fleshiness was considered to be an advantage rather than grounds for merciless teasing. It was hoped to make her into another Olga Korbut, but there was a distinct, and discouraging lack of flexibility in the backbone, little sense of balance, and she grew too tall. Indeed, K showed little inclination for any of the activities at the sporting academy that involved learning a complex technique, but she could run. (Any fool can put one foot in front of the other, as her coach so accurately pointed out). She trained hard with Verona Bernard-Elder, but just missed selection for Team GB at the Montréal Summer Games. Interviews with her coach reveal that he never took her chances of success seriously. "K was never dedicated enough. Her motto was always 'If at first you don't succeed - give up'. And she suffered terrible nerves before a race. You'd think, with running, that it wouldn't matter too much. It's not like tennis, where nerves would make you lose your natural swing, or choke like Jana Novotna against Steffi Graf in 1993, but nerves made K's legs seize up and ruined her chances of competing at top level." (Editor's note:This interview is not documented, but taken from K's private notes)
This sort of thing is great fun to write. The mix of true and not-true-but-I-wish-it-were is also fairly entertaining to read for about the length of a GR review, perhaps. But not, Ms Hoppe, for 331 pages. I'll read your short fiction, any time. I like your sardonic style. But your 'dream autobiography' got tediously repetitive and, well, pointless.
Eine erfundene Biografie über sich selber zu schreiben, das stell ich mir sehr unterhaltsam vor. Felicitas Hoppe hat dies mit ihrem Roman "Hoppe" gemacht, wobei sich immer wieder die Frage stellt, was denn nun wirklich alles unwahr ist. Fakten und Fantasien vermischen sich geschickt zu neuen Möglichkeiten, Zweifel werden explizit eingebaut.
Durch eine unsichere Faktenlage und vielen Klammerbemerkungen ist "Hoppe" allerdings oft auch ermüdend und konnte mich zu wenig fesseln. Es waren vor allem der Grundgedanke und einige Eigenheiten des Buches, die mich überzeugten. Während der Lektüre verlor ich zu oft die Konzentration.
Eine Autobiografie nicht über das eigentliche Leben, sondern das, welches hätte sein können. Am Anfang sehe amüsant, aber auf die Dauer eher irritierend und einfach langweilig.
14.10.2014 Seit einem Gespräch mit der Autorin auf Ö1 habe ich mir die Leküre dieses Buches vorgenommen. Ich bin einfach neugierig. Immerhin ist Hoppe die Büchner-Preis-Trägerin 2012 und Humor dürfe sie auch haben. Das kann ja nur gut werden. 19.10.2014 Da lag ich mit meiner Erwartungshaltung goldrichtig. Großartiger Text. Ein Buch wie ein Sieb - das bloße Textüberflieger von Lesern trennt. 25.10.2014 Ein wohliges Phantasieschaumbad. Im Zickzack geht es durch die Zeiten und von Kontinent zu Kontinent. Wie im Träumeland ist Vieles möglich, Nichts schließt sich aus. In diesem Buch findet sich Stoff für zehn Bücher. In großer sprachlicher Brillanz und Präzision verfasst (Alleine schon darum lesenswert) voller Humor (nicht lustig)und auch sehr melancholisch. Ein eigenwilliges, besonderes Buch.
Ich komme einfach nicht klar mit Büchern, die essayistisch sind. Essays mag ich sehr, aber auf Buchlänge gestreckt sind sie mir zu viel. Lookalikes habe ich deshalb nach 80 Seiten abgebrochen. Durch Hoppe habe ich ich mich mehr oder weniger gekämpft. Viele der Ideen haben mir gefallen. Wahrscheinlich hätte eine klarere Struktur (mehr wie eine Biographie) zu einem angenehmeren Lesen beigetragen. Hier gibt es zwar einen groben chronologischen Ablauf, aber das Struktur zu nennen wäre zu viel gesagt. Felicitas Hoppe ist und bleibt mir sympathisch, aber Hoppe werde ich bald wieder vergessen haben.
A hilarious take on the autobiography; she doesn't write about the life she's actually had, but the life she might have had... if she'd been kidnapped by her dad at a young age and adopted by Wayne Gretzky's family. She writes it like a dry (and very German) critical study in third person of how these life experiences may have shaped her writing, throwing in (fake?) quotes from (fake?) critics about (fake?) books lambasting her for pointless exercises in nonsense literature, gets her story mixed up with The Pied Piper of Hamelin, Pippi Longstocking, Captain Grant's Children, Tom Sawyer etc, runs it all through a blender, and has Glenn Gould play it. Bizarre, not necessarily accessible, but lots of fun.
This book has an intriguing concept: What would your life look like if you could wish for it? And you have to applause the author for setting up such a marvelous path for herself. Ultimately though, it fell a bit flat for me in regards of purpose. „Why should you read this?“ came to mind some times while reading this. There is little polt so to speak and the common threads to focus on are far in between. This makes for a mixed experience. What is definitely a strong point of this book is the language. Sometimes lyrical, always melodic. I would very much like to see a more common novel written in this style