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Iris
Iris ist Schriftstellerin, sie ist viel auf Reisen, in Europa und darüber hinaus. Es sind Momente des Einverständnisses, die sie in den Begegnungen findet, die sie dabei macht. Momente der Bekräftigung in einem Leben, das sich oft am Rand der Erschöpfung bewegt. Wieder zu Hause berichtet sie von diesen Reisen, und Anton hört ihr zu und zeigt Iris seinerseits die Fotos, die er als Künstler mit schadhaften Kameras macht. Ihre Beziehung zu Anton (wie zu anderen Männern) gründet auf Abmachungen. Sie teilen vieles, auch die Lust am sexuellen Spiel mit Gewalt und Unterwerfung. Während sich Iris' Fantasie an der Geschichte der Hexenprozesse zu entzünden beginnt, drängen Erinnerungen aus ihrer Kindheit immer stärker an die Oberfläche. Bis schließlich ihr Arrangement mit Anton eine tiefe Erschütterung erfährt.
- GenresFiction
153 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 18, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
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April 18, 2026I started this book and almost immediately decided not to finish it – it touched on themes, including sexual violence, I’ve been overexposed to in the past few books I’ve read (quite by accident, I must insist), and I was in no mood for it. In addition, it is in German, which is not my native language, and the writing style was challenging – no hard stops, each chapter a single sentence (more on this in a moment). I set it aside. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of dissatisfaction, not that I was wrong to think I wouldn’t enjoy the book, but that I was wrong not to finish it anyway. In short, I felt compelled to finish reading it, and so I took it up again, and read it to the end.
And compulsion is the one word that captures this book for me. I felt compelled to finish the book, just as I felt compelled to finish a chapter before putting it down – for chapter endings are the only full stops the book has on offer. Otherwise every phrase is set off with a comma. Even when there are questions, a comma follows the question mark, pointlessly, except to remind a reader that we may pause but we may not stop. We may not stop until the chapter ends, we are compelled to continue. The eponymous protagonist (Iris), also seeks compulsion in her sexual relations, the sexual violence here is complex because she both demands it and resists it, she wants and does not want it, and it becomes impossible at times to know who is demanding what of whom.
This book was only published a few weeks ago and I bought it impulsively at a bookseller’s recommendation; in retrospect I suspect she hadn’t read it herself. I’m not sure what to think about the format, which made me – I have to assume deliberately – uncomfortable (which is an unfortunate theme of books I’ve read in April, although thank goodness for the lovely, comforting, soothing Ein ganzes Leben, an oasis of calm in this cruelest month).
Here’s an excerpt, which, as a reminder, starts in the middle of a sentence (a sentence several pages long by this time):
… sie hält ihm die Zigarette hin, er zieht daran, weil ich ein Sünder bin, weil ich den Lockungen des Weibes nicht zu widerstehen vermag, also schlecht ist das Weib von Natur, meine Freundin, hüte deine Zunge, meine Zunge ist schlüpfrig wie die aller Weiber, Gianbattista legt seine Hände um Iris’ Mitte, kannst du nicht bald wiederkommen?, schwierig, ich bin viel unterwegs in nächster Zeit, kommst du überhaupt zum Schreiben?, schwierig, Iris drückt die Zigarette aus, … (26)
What if that appeared like this?
sie hält ihm die Zigarette hin,
er zieht daran,
weil ich ein Sünder bin,
weil ich den Lockungen des Weibes nicht zu widerstehen vermag,
also schlecht ist das Weib von Natur,
meine Freundin,
hüte deine Zunge,
meine Zunge ist schlüpfrig wie die aller Weiber,
Gianbattista legt seine Hände um Iris’ Mitte,
kannst du nicht bald wiederkommen?,
schwierig,
ich bin viel unterwegs in nächster Zeit,
kommst du überhaupt zum Schreiben?,
schwierig,
Iris drückt die Zigarette aus,
Or like this:
Sie hält ihm die Zigarette hin. Er zieht daran. “Weil ich ein Sünder bin, weil ich den Lockungen des Weibes nicht zu widerstehen vermag.”
“Also schlecht ist das Weib von Natur.”
“Meine Freundin, hüte deine Zunge!”
“Meine Zunge ist schlüpfrig wie die aller Weiber.”
Gianbattista legt seine Hände um Iris’ Mitte. “Kannst du nicht bald wiederkommen?”
“Schwierig, ich bin viel unterwegs in nächster Zeit.”
“Kommst du überhaupt zum Schreiben?”
“Schwierig.” Iris drückt die Zigarette aus.
Although it’s fairly easy to keep track of who is saying what in that passage, there are others where I honestly didn’t know, and it felt important to know. Especially in situations where themes of bondage and consent and its absence come into play, as they do repeatedly in this novel.
Iris is a traveler. She has friends everywhere and possibly lovers as well. Her locations are sometimes obvious and sometimes less so – she travels to ORD, LHR, Paris, Colmar, Tirana, Venice, Vienna, and Bangalore, Baden, New York, Naples. The story is set in the very recent past – there are passing references to COVID-era concerns – but Iris refuses to use a smartphone. In the only exchange that made me even think about smiling, someone tells her she’s lucky not to have one and Iris either says or thinks that it’s still an option available to everyone. Iris is a writer and goes to literary festivals and readings and talks all over – and everywhere she goes, it seems, she knows someone, there is someone waiting to see her, to talk with her, to spend time with her. I don’t think Iris is ever alone except when she chooses to be. There’s no hint of how she stays in touch with these people or arranges to see them. They are just there, where she needs them to be. And yet Iris seems to be very lonely. I was never sure why. I don’t understand her, I never understood her.
Laura Freudenthaler is a young Austrian author who has won an awful lot of prizes for her previous books. This one didn’t quite land with me - but it’s important to acknowledge that German isn’t my first language and perhaps it will resonate more with native speakers.
And compulsion is the one word that captures this book for me. I felt compelled to finish the book, just as I felt compelled to finish a chapter before putting it down – for chapter endings are the only full stops the book has on offer. Otherwise every phrase is set off with a comma. Even when there are questions, a comma follows the question mark, pointlessly, except to remind a reader that we may pause but we may not stop. We may not stop until the chapter ends, we are compelled to continue. The eponymous protagonist (Iris), also seeks compulsion in her sexual relations, the sexual violence here is complex because she both demands it and resists it, she wants and does not want it, and it becomes impossible at times to know who is demanding what of whom.
This book was only published a few weeks ago and I bought it impulsively at a bookseller’s recommendation; in retrospect I suspect she hadn’t read it herself. I’m not sure what to think about the format, which made me – I have to assume deliberately – uncomfortable (which is an unfortunate theme of books I’ve read in April, although thank goodness for the lovely, comforting, soothing Ein ganzes Leben, an oasis of calm in this cruelest month).
Here’s an excerpt, which, as a reminder, starts in the middle of a sentence (a sentence several pages long by this time):
… sie hält ihm die Zigarette hin, er zieht daran, weil ich ein Sünder bin, weil ich den Lockungen des Weibes nicht zu widerstehen vermag, also schlecht ist das Weib von Natur, meine Freundin, hüte deine Zunge, meine Zunge ist schlüpfrig wie die aller Weiber, Gianbattista legt seine Hände um Iris’ Mitte, kannst du nicht bald wiederkommen?, schwierig, ich bin viel unterwegs in nächster Zeit, kommst du überhaupt zum Schreiben?, schwierig, Iris drückt die Zigarette aus, … (26)
What if that appeared like this?
sie hält ihm die Zigarette hin,
er zieht daran,
weil ich ein Sünder bin,
weil ich den Lockungen des Weibes nicht zu widerstehen vermag,
also schlecht ist das Weib von Natur,
meine Freundin,
hüte deine Zunge,
meine Zunge ist schlüpfrig wie die aller Weiber,
Gianbattista legt seine Hände um Iris’ Mitte,
kannst du nicht bald wiederkommen?,
schwierig,
ich bin viel unterwegs in nächster Zeit,
kommst du überhaupt zum Schreiben?,
schwierig,
Iris drückt die Zigarette aus,
Or like this:
Sie hält ihm die Zigarette hin. Er zieht daran. “Weil ich ein Sünder bin, weil ich den Lockungen des Weibes nicht zu widerstehen vermag.”
“Also schlecht ist das Weib von Natur.”
“Meine Freundin, hüte deine Zunge!”
“Meine Zunge ist schlüpfrig wie die aller Weiber.”
Gianbattista legt seine Hände um Iris’ Mitte. “Kannst du nicht bald wiederkommen?”
“Schwierig, ich bin viel unterwegs in nächster Zeit.”
“Kommst du überhaupt zum Schreiben?”
“Schwierig.” Iris drückt die Zigarette aus.
Although it’s fairly easy to keep track of who is saying what in that passage, there are others where I honestly didn’t know, and it felt important to know. Especially in situations where themes of bondage and consent and its absence come into play, as they do repeatedly in this novel.
Iris is a traveler. She has friends everywhere and possibly lovers as well. Her locations are sometimes obvious and sometimes less so – she travels to ORD, LHR, Paris, Colmar, Tirana, Venice, Vienna, and Bangalore, Baden, New York, Naples. The story is set in the very recent past – there are passing references to COVID-era concerns – but Iris refuses to use a smartphone. In the only exchange that made me even think about smiling, someone tells her she’s lucky not to have one and Iris either says or thinks that it’s still an option available to everyone. Iris is a writer and goes to literary festivals and readings and talks all over – and everywhere she goes, it seems, she knows someone, there is someone waiting to see her, to talk with her, to spend time with her. I don’t think Iris is ever alone except when she chooses to be. There’s no hint of how she stays in touch with these people or arranges to see them. They are just there, where she needs them to be. And yet Iris seems to be very lonely. I was never sure why. I don’t understand her, I never understood her.
Laura Freudenthaler is a young Austrian author who has won an awful lot of prizes for her previous books. This one didn’t quite land with me - but it’s important to acknowledge that German isn’t my first language and perhaps it will resonate more with native speakers.
March 17, 2026
Die Schreibweise war leider gar nichts meins. Zwischendurch gabs gute und catchy Momente, aber denke nicht, dass das Buch irgendeinen großen Eindruck bei mir hinterlassen wird. Der Klappentext verspricht für mich zu viel.
March 30, 2026
Mein erstes Buch von Freudenthaler war “Die Königin schweigt” und es hat mir sehr gut gefallen. “Arson” war dann schon eigentlich gar nicht meines, und mit “Iris” setzt sich das jetzt leider fort.
Der Schreibstil ist zwar interessant aber war für mich unglaublich anstrengend zu lesen. Die Geschichte mäandert dahin, ich war nie wirklich gefesselt (ha! Spoiler?) und insgesamt weiß ich nicht was die Autorin uns sagen will.
Schade
Der Schreibstil ist zwar interessant aber war für mich unglaublich anstrengend zu lesen. Die Geschichte mäandert dahin, ich war nie wirklich gefesselt (ha! Spoiler?) und insgesamt weiß ich nicht was die Autorin uns sagen will.
Schade
March 27, 2026
DNF at around p. 30
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews