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Klausen
Book by Maier, Andreas
214 pages, Paperback
First published March 31, 2004
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August 19, 2010
Translated from the German by Kenneth J. Northcott
“everything now becomes a sign of something.”
This would be a great subheading on the “Welcome to Klausen” village signpost. For within this small community, gossip and rumors, fueled by suspicion, make every event somehow significant. The fictional novel Klausen by Andreas Maier is based on many of the facts of this city, located in Northern Italy in the Bolzano-Bozen region, where the last thing the residents want is to be considered Italian. They prefer their South Tyrolean heritage, and their language of Austrian is the proof of their difference from Italy. The region is, in fact, an autonomous province, and one that is constantly at odds with their Italian neighbors. The region is a blip on the Autobahn A22, a place occasionally visited by tourists but usually left to its own devices.
In this novel, Maier focuses on the interactions of the residents, some long-time citizens and others who are new to the region and ready to develop parts of it. The shopkeepers keep tabs on everyone, and little goes on that doesn’t generate talk. The novel begins with one such event. Josef Gasser returns to Klausen from somewhere else. No one is sure where, or why, or what he is up to. His sister Kati is a much discussed topic in the small town, as she escaped and became a television star. But Gasser is less notable, and his behavior immediately strikes the townsfolk as odd. He doesn’t seem to want to engage with anyone, and he has no interest in old friends or even his mother. They label him an ‘industrious no-good’.
“…public opinion began to regard Gasser in a very critical light, because it was striking that he had said nothing about any of the issues that had been talked about and had expressed absolutely no opinion. This was not only seen as arrogant and presumptuous…, but it was also considered worrisome and even dangerous.”
Shortly after his arrival, other visitors begin talking about the noise from the Autobahn bridge nearby, with some opposed to its noise and others oblivious to it. Both sides begin a campaign of speculating and questioning the motives of everyone else. Soon an effort is made to actually verify just how big a problem the noise is, and the townspeople begin a free-for-all of dispute over the project. After some grossly exaggerated violence occurs, the town is now rabid with assumptions. Gasser becomes a prime suspect in an event that no one can even define.
Maier takes what could appear to be a wearisome premise into an amusing, if not hilarious, direction with his excelling talent at writing dialogue. He captures the heart of the people revealed in their seemingly idle chatter. He notices how tones change when people become suspicious. In one case a jacket is ‘misplaced’, with suspicion it becomes ‘abandoned’. A new meaning that alters everything. And it’s not just Gasser that is the victim of the gossip: an architect, Italians (in general), Moroccan squatters residing in an abandoned castle, even an aging poet become suspects.
In one particularly ironic instance, the mob latches on to the idea of three Pakistani workmen who live in the town as being responsible for an altercation. That the men weren’t present makes them all the more suspicious. A crowd gathered in a basement bar discusses them, and begins relating stories about them. At that unfortunate moment, one of the Pakistani men happens into the bar for a drink. Immediately he knows something is up, and as they begin to question him, he sees where they are going with their questions. When he resists answering where he was on the night in question, he is considered guilty. When he provides an alibi, he appears even guiltier for having one. He begins to fear for his safety because the crowd is looking for someone to blame, preferably an outsider. And thus the basis of the Klaussner’s resentment is revealed: they want no part of the outside. An “outside” world that to them is driven right to their doorstep by the Autobahn; a world inhabited by Italians, Albanians, Moroccans, and people different from them.
When I began reading this, I was slightly off track because of the blurb on the back of the book that mentioned a “crime scene”. I started reading in a linear direction, blinders on; intent on getting to what I thought was the point, the alleged crime scene. But about a third of the way I realized the story, crime scene or not, is in the dialogue. The eavesdropping on people so convinced in their own rightness that they abandon logic, and the gossip that spins out of control because no one is invested in finding the truth. At this point I restarted the novel, and it really helped me to grasp the humor that is dryly incorporated into the text. The novel is not for everyone, as for one thing, it’s basically one book length paragraph.
Maier also sprinkles truisms throughout the story that make give you pause: “Politicians look for problems to struggle against solely because they are looking for voters, and the best way to appeal to a voter is through the problem that he has, or thinks he has (or that the politician persuades him he has), and that this was all a disgusting process that never brought anything to people but great duplicity.” The author demonstrates a clear observation of human nature, and how many will grasp at a ridiculous inaccuracy rather than a plain truth.
“everything now becomes a sign of something.”
This would be a great subheading on the “Welcome to Klausen” village signpost. For within this small community, gossip and rumors, fueled by suspicion, make every event somehow significant. The fictional novel Klausen by Andreas Maier is based on many of the facts of this city, located in Northern Italy in the Bolzano-Bozen region, where the last thing the residents want is to be considered Italian. They prefer their South Tyrolean heritage, and their language of Austrian is the proof of their difference from Italy. The region is, in fact, an autonomous province, and one that is constantly at odds with their Italian neighbors. The region is a blip on the Autobahn A22, a place occasionally visited by tourists but usually left to its own devices.
In this novel, Maier focuses on the interactions of the residents, some long-time citizens and others who are new to the region and ready to develop parts of it. The shopkeepers keep tabs on everyone, and little goes on that doesn’t generate talk. The novel begins with one such event. Josef Gasser returns to Klausen from somewhere else. No one is sure where, or why, or what he is up to. His sister Kati is a much discussed topic in the small town, as she escaped and became a television star. But Gasser is less notable, and his behavior immediately strikes the townsfolk as odd. He doesn’t seem to want to engage with anyone, and he has no interest in old friends or even his mother. They label him an ‘industrious no-good’.
“…public opinion began to regard Gasser in a very critical light, because it was striking that he had said nothing about any of the issues that had been talked about and had expressed absolutely no opinion. This was not only seen as arrogant and presumptuous…, but it was also considered worrisome and even dangerous.”
Shortly after his arrival, other visitors begin talking about the noise from the Autobahn bridge nearby, with some opposed to its noise and others oblivious to it. Both sides begin a campaign of speculating and questioning the motives of everyone else. Soon an effort is made to actually verify just how big a problem the noise is, and the townspeople begin a free-for-all of dispute over the project. After some grossly exaggerated violence occurs, the town is now rabid with assumptions. Gasser becomes a prime suspect in an event that no one can even define.
Maier takes what could appear to be a wearisome premise into an amusing, if not hilarious, direction with his excelling talent at writing dialogue. He captures the heart of the people revealed in their seemingly idle chatter. He notices how tones change when people become suspicious. In one case a jacket is ‘misplaced’, with suspicion it becomes ‘abandoned’. A new meaning that alters everything. And it’s not just Gasser that is the victim of the gossip: an architect, Italians (in general), Moroccan squatters residing in an abandoned castle, even an aging poet become suspects.
In one particularly ironic instance, the mob latches on to the idea of three Pakistani workmen who live in the town as being responsible for an altercation. That the men weren’t present makes them all the more suspicious. A crowd gathered in a basement bar discusses them, and begins relating stories about them. At that unfortunate moment, one of the Pakistani men happens into the bar for a drink. Immediately he knows something is up, and as they begin to question him, he sees where they are going with their questions. When he resists answering where he was on the night in question, he is considered guilty. When he provides an alibi, he appears even guiltier for having one. He begins to fear for his safety because the crowd is looking for someone to blame, preferably an outsider. And thus the basis of the Klaussner’s resentment is revealed: they want no part of the outside. An “outside” world that to them is driven right to their doorstep by the Autobahn; a world inhabited by Italians, Albanians, Moroccans, and people different from them.
When I began reading this, I was slightly off track because of the blurb on the back of the book that mentioned a “crime scene”. I started reading in a linear direction, blinders on; intent on getting to what I thought was the point, the alleged crime scene. But about a third of the way I realized the story, crime scene or not, is in the dialogue. The eavesdropping on people so convinced in their own rightness that they abandon logic, and the gossip that spins out of control because no one is invested in finding the truth. At this point I restarted the novel, and it really helped me to grasp the humor that is dryly incorporated into the text. The novel is not for everyone, as for one thing, it’s basically one book length paragraph.
Maier also sprinkles truisms throughout the story that make give you pause: “Politicians look for problems to struggle against solely because they are looking for voters, and the best way to appeal to a voter is through the problem that he has, or thinks he has (or that the politician persuades him he has), and that this was all a disgusting process that never brought anything to people but great duplicity.” The author demonstrates a clear observation of human nature, and how many will grasp at a ridiculous inaccuracy rather than a plain truth.
March 21, 2017
Mein Verhältnis zu Andreas Maier ist ein eher gespaltenes. Nicht nur, dass er so eine schlechte Dissertation über Thomas Bernhard geschrieben hat, dass es schon an eine Beleidigung grenzt, er selbst ist auch ein ziemlich von sich selbst eingenommener, blasierter Pinsel. Letzteres hat natürlich mit der Qualität seiner Bücher nur wenig zu tun und ist ein persönlicher Eindruck von mir, doch mir fällt es nicht unbedingt leicht davon abzusehen (was natürlich eine Charakterschwäche meinerseits ist), sodass ich es hier dennoch erwähnen möchte. Doch bei allem muss ich zugeben, dass mir "Klausen" sehr gut gefallen hat. Hier schafft Maier eine sehr schöne Groteske, die zwar zahlreiche "Bernhardeske" Elemente enthält, aber dennoch (im Gegensatz zu Maiers erstem Roman "Wäldchestag") einen ganz eigenen Charakter hat. Maier kann ja doch schreiben. Wer hätte das gedacht. Warum verwendet er nicht öfter seine "eigene" Sprache, das täte ihm sicherlich gut...
July 20, 2015
DISCLAIMER: I am the publisher of the book and thus spent approximately two years reading and editing and working on it. So take my review with a grain of salt, or the understanding that I am deeply invested in this text and know it quite well. Also, I would really appreciate it if you would purchase this book, since it would benefit Open Letter directly.
March 19, 2017
Ich kann's nicht glauben, dass ich das Buch durchgelesen habe.
April 2, 2023
“In short: no one knew what had actually happened on the day in question…”
At the risk of being as delusional as the average Klausener: this novel is a commentary on humanity and our tendencies for politicization, self-indulgence and selfishness, exasperation, gossip, group-think, fear, and really just our tendency to focus on all the wrong things. It’s a rightfully excruciating read, with the ratio of citizen speculation to actual incident at what feels like a whopping 15:1.
The novel is devoid of any reckoning, any reaching of conclusions, any re-hashing of old debates when new information that clearly invalidates old positions comes to light. Maier brilliantly side-steps any opportunities to give us closure. The theme seems to be the idea of “motion without progress”; any new fact uncovered is still heavily nuanced as subjective, reminding us that it could obviously be completely wrong. Stylistically, this idea is heightened by the choice of the mono-paragraph, pages after pages of text, with unceremonious transitions from one set of wild speculations by the people of Klausen to another set, the line between news report and citizen opinion heavily blurred.
Really unlike anything I’ve read before.
To me, the most interesting part of the writing was the choice of perspective. Initially, it seems like we’re taking the point of view of an unbiased onlooker who can go in and out of the heads of dozens of characters of Klausen, exposing their views and recounting their dialogues, all while acknowledging their gaps in knowledge and frequent delusions of self-importance. However, it becomings increasingly clear that there are a few central characters we just can’t get in the heads of to actually expose what is happening, characters who have more incongruous habits than the majority - Kat, the newly revered actress; her politically active and land mogul fiancé; the mysterious Auer, and so on. It rounds up another idea — that perhaps we, the readers, are just another citizen of Klausen, listening into debates in the local bar and gossiping in living rooms, providing our own color to our neighbors’ psyche, obsessed with piecing together what is happening, all without knowing much at all.
At the risk of being as delusional as the average Klausener: this novel is a commentary on humanity and our tendencies for politicization, self-indulgence and selfishness, exasperation, gossip, group-think, fear, and really just our tendency to focus on all the wrong things. It’s a rightfully excruciating read, with the ratio of citizen speculation to actual incident at what feels like a whopping 15:1.
The novel is devoid of any reckoning, any reaching of conclusions, any re-hashing of old debates when new information that clearly invalidates old positions comes to light. Maier brilliantly side-steps any opportunities to give us closure. The theme seems to be the idea of “motion without progress”; any new fact uncovered is still heavily nuanced as subjective, reminding us that it could obviously be completely wrong. Stylistically, this idea is heightened by the choice of the mono-paragraph, pages after pages of text, with unceremonious transitions from one set of wild speculations by the people of Klausen to another set, the line between news report and citizen opinion heavily blurred.
Really unlike anything I’ve read before.
To me, the most interesting part of the writing was the choice of perspective. Initially, it seems like we’re taking the point of view of an unbiased onlooker who can go in and out of the heads of dozens of characters of Klausen, exposing their views and recounting their dialogues, all while acknowledging their gaps in knowledge and frequent delusions of self-importance. However, it becomings increasingly clear that there are a few central characters we just can’t get in the heads of to actually expose what is happening, characters who have more incongruous habits than the majority - Kat, the newly revered actress; her politically active and land mogul fiancé; the mysterious Auer, and so on. It rounds up another idea — that perhaps we, the readers, are just another citizen of Klausen, listening into debates in the local bar and gossiping in living rooms, providing our own color to our neighbors’ psyche, obsessed with piecing together what is happening, all without knowing much at all.
November 10, 2025
Readers usually have a sense of setting, character and/or plot from the first pages of a novel — but by page 11, readers of Klausen still have no clue. The novel goes on to relate stories about Gasser having a letter that belongs to Auer, and a parcel that might or might not contain a rifle. He sits under trees that cause quarrels about what kind of trees they were, and he argues with his mother about his jealousy of his sister Kati’s fame as an actress and her choice of future husband. There’s a long Bernhardian tirade about the way she sits in his chair that she sits in just to annoy him, and there’s a rant about a former classmate called Paolucci, a Milanese journalist who’s investigating possible corruption by Herr Laner who was instrumental in getting the autobahn built for his own benefit. There’s a very long section about the kerfuffle over noise pollution from this autobahn, and the wife of the visiting professor shares a long rant about how unreasonable he is about noise.
There’s also historical revisionism about the Nazi period.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2025/11/11/k...
There’s also historical revisionism about the Nazi period.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2025/11/11/k...
September 21, 2025
This is the second book I’ve read this year that reminded me of Thomas Bernhard’s Correction! Hot Bernhard Summer! Anyway, this novel opens in one of the best possible ways, which is that you know a bomb is going to go off by the end. Like, a literal bomb. Then the rambling story follows everyone in the small town of Klausen—located in northern Italy but with strong German heritage—in the days before the explosion so you can learn how and why it happens. The ending is anticlimactic, but satisfying. By that point, you expect it to be anticlimactic anyway.
This review was originally published on my blog.
This review was originally published on my blog.
January 7, 2018
Quite boring.
dnf
September 24, 2017Klausen is a German-speaking comune (municipality) located near the Austrian border in Italy's Bolzano-Bozen province. One day, in the midst of a raging controversy over noise pollution, a bomb went off on the autobahn, or in a shack near the autobahn, or someone was shooting in Klausen's direction from a bridge - actually, we're not sure what happened exactly, only that a catastrophic event took place that has the whole town talking and pointing fingers. Anxieties over immigration and ongoing ethnic tensions fuel the rumor mill until fact blends with fiction and no one can separate the two. But there is one notion on which all of Klausen is in complete agreement: that the guilty party is likely Josef Gasser, a mysterious figure who spent years away in Berlin and whose sister is a famous actress with a politically dubious fiancé. But beyond that, it's impossible to keep anything straight.
Maier's unusual style - the narrative repetition, the single nonstop paragraph, and embedded, indirect dialogue - has earned him comparisons to Thomas Bernhard and José Saragamo. Unfortunately, such a risky format in this case falls short. The people of Klausen are groping for answers in a fog where each story seems as credible as the next. To convey this confusion, Maier sets Klausen up as a recitation of conflicting theories, unreliable memories, and real action in which all three are given equal weight. But unfortunately, that's all it is: a dry recitation that just goes on and on for 168 pages. Andreas Maier's prose is also thoroughly uncompelling and the result is a book that's impossible to get into.
And so, I quit on page 66, which makes Klausen one of my few DNF books. Apologies to Open Letter Press, as I usually enjoy their offerings.
Original Review
Maier's unusual style - the narrative repetition, the single nonstop paragraph, and embedded, indirect dialogue - has earned him comparisons to Thomas Bernhard and José Saragamo. Unfortunately, such a risky format in this case falls short. The people of Klausen are groping for answers in a fog where each story seems as credible as the next. To convey this confusion, Maier sets Klausen up as a recitation of conflicting theories, unreliable memories, and real action in which all three are given equal weight. But unfortunately, that's all it is: a dry recitation that just goes on and on for 168 pages. Andreas Maier's prose is also thoroughly uncompelling and the result is a book that's impossible to get into.
And so, I quit on page 66, which makes Klausen one of my few DNF books. Apologies to Open Letter Press, as I usually enjoy their offerings.
Original Review
July 3, 2016
J Gasser es un habitante de Klausen, un pueblo Alemán, su padre un hombre que pedalea su bicicleta a su trabajo todos los días, una madre abnegada a su vida de ama de casa y una hermana famosa. Katy Gasser acapara la atención. Gasser tiene un comportamiento extraño, no es como todos los del pueblo y se la pasa observando, haciendo anotaciones, dibujos. Todo mundo especula sobre Gasser sin tener nada a ciencia cierta; incluso su madre. Una conversacion en un comedor que origina una discusión sobre la cotidianidad del pueblo y la transformación de éste por una autopista. Gasser desaparece a la vista de todos, una serie de hechos extraños que son atribuidos a Gasser; simplemente por no ser como todos los demás. Narrado de un sólo golpe, sin parrafos, Andreas Maier nos da su visión de un hombre que regresa a su pueblo y que es sospechoso por el sólo hecho de no comportarse como todos. Una escritura aglutinante, sin respiro, una
serie de hechos, de sospechas, de intirgas, de discusiones filósoficas sobre Nietszche, nacionalismo, arte. Al final, Gasser está ahí, de pie; como si nada pasara. Y es que en realidad nada ha pasado. Gasser es como una piedra que se arroja al agua tránquila. La piedra solamente ha dado en caer porque así es su destino. Y el agua, el pueblo de Klausen, se agita a la menor provocación. Klausen se lee en un respiro, en lo que se cuenta una historia verosímil pero no real. J Gasser queda ahí, tan desconocido como siempre.
GRACIAS NOR POR ESTA RESEÑA, PERO YO ESPERO LEERLO PRONTO: RUTH
serie de hechos, de sospechas, de intirgas, de discusiones filósoficas sobre Nietszche, nacionalismo, arte. Al final, Gasser está ahí, de pie; como si nada pasara. Y es que en realidad nada ha pasado. Gasser es como una piedra que se arroja al agua tránquila. La piedra solamente ha dado en caer porque así es su destino. Y el agua, el pueblo de Klausen, se agita a la menor provocación. Klausen se lee en un respiro, en lo que se cuenta una historia verosímil pero no real. J Gasser queda ahí, tan desconocido como siempre.
GRACIAS NOR POR ESTA RESEÑA, PERO YO ESPERO LEERLO PRONTO: RUTH
December 18, 2015
Klausen is an actual town in the Northern Italian autonomous province of South Tyrol. However, this book is a novel and presumably the usual 'work of fiction' disclaimer applies to people, places, etc. That said, the German Maier skewers Klausen's provincialism with such viciousness that one has to wonder at his motivation for choosing this particular real-world setting in which his vague mystery would unfold. This is Maier's first work to be translated into English, and while I was able to find a lukewarm Publisher's Weekly review online, the two review quotes on the cover refer to the German original. Cursory online searches do not reveal much of a reception for the English translation. It's an odd book and I almost gave up on it several times. But the central character was intriguing enough to keep reading, despite the fact that he kept disappearing from the text and was more often talked about than actually present in the action. Maier borrows a few stylistic tricks from Thomas Bernhard's bag, including a lack of paragraph breaks, which in Bernhard's case is much more palatable due to the musicality of his prose, but here is just a nuisance during pauses in reading. Perhaps best read in one sitting if one can handle it. It took me several days to get through it, partly because I lacked the enthusiasm. (2.5)
March 11, 2018
An interesting, but somewhat confusing mystery of German social consciousness. The small town turbulence of Klausen which borders Italy is rawly represented through here-say that surrounds a man who has recently returned from University. While the town citizens feel that he has dangerously radicalized and abandoned their small town values, a mysterious explosion right off the autoban draws their attention to him and his family. Even though I really liked the intimate complexity of this novel, I felt as if I was an outsider listening to local gossip. All in all this was an engaging read, but not a keeper for me. I have particular praise for this novels translator for his deep understanding of the social structure of this very specific location in Germany.
Read
July 4, 2021Didn't finish. This is one of the weirdest books I ever tried to read. Intentionally weird. Stream-of-consciousness of someone who is having a bad acid trip. Everything contradicts everything. Everything leads nowhere. It's not that the book was hard to read. It just seemed pointless to go on.
September 27, 2011
A grueling look into the way that gossip can transform and morph a community of people into a blog of people that go nowhere and decide nothing and never agree. was hard to get into at first but then once i got the ball rolling and read more than five pages at a time, i really enjoyed it.
December 22, 2015
En Südtirol el turismo y el progreso están cambiando el estil de vida. La muestra más aparente es la autopista que, con su ruído, está trastornando la paz del lugar. Lástima que el autor haya escogido la vía de hacer la vida imposible al lector obviando los puntos y aparte.
December 25, 2012
Very funny take on gossip and rumor--best read in big stretches to maximize the effect of the style.
December 5, 2014
Slightly weird story, probably the weakest Andreas Maier book I've read so far. Hard to pinpoint what the issues are I have with this book, it just didn't feel well though through, I guess.
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews