Danny Hane > Recent Status Updates

Mein erster Eindruck: Der Erzähler hat eine ziemlich herablassende Grundhaltung gegenüber den Schülern. Technisch sehr schlecht gemacht. Es werden gleich 30 Charaktere eingeführt, die man kaum auseinanderhalten kann. Dazu kommt diese typische spitzzüngige, bewertende Erzählweise, die gleich vermittelt: Ach, die Schule ist ja so ein lachhafter Zirkus. Alles sehr vorhersehbar.

Es gibt wenige Themen, bei denen ich innerlich so zerrissen bin wie bei Migration, und zwar tagtäglich. 2013 habe ich Geflüchteten Deutsch beigebracht. 10 Jahre später habe ich Kinder in meiner Klasse, die bereits in der zweiten oder dritten Generation hier leben und trotzdem kaum Deutsch lesen oder schreiben können. Empathie und Frustration liegen bei mir da sehr nah beieinander.

Es gibt wenige Themen, bei denen ich innerlich so sehr zerissen bin wie bei Migration, aber auf einer tagtäglichen Basis. 2013 habe ich Flüchtlingen Deutsch gebracht. 10 Jahre später habe ich Kindern in meiner Klasse, die bereits in der 2-3. Generation hier sind und kaum Deutsch lesen oder schreiben können. Empathie und Frustration sind da wirklich sehr nah bei mir beieinander.

Für mich war die Essenz hiervon immer die Spannung zwischen dem Für-andere-da-Sein und dem völligen Vernachlässigen der eigenen Bedürfnisse und Emotionen. Der Kollege Stevens ist weitschweifig und unterbricht sich ständig selbst; trotzdem ist er einer der wenigen literarischen Charaktere, die ich irgendwie echt ins Herz geschlossen habe.

Das erste Mal seit drei Jahren, dass ich ein echtes, keimverseuchtes Buch in der Hand halte. Ich habe es aus Versehen zugeschlagen und jetzt weiß ich nicht mehr, auf welcher Seite ich war. Schriftgröße kann man scheinbar auch nicht einstellen und Hintergrundbeleuchtung hat es auch nicht. Komische Erfindung...

Feverish.

When I first read 'American Psycho' in 2018, the thing I found most uncomfortable wasn't the violence or the page-long lists of brands. It was his compulsive lying. 8 years later, it's the word "hardbodies" ...the term he uses, mostly for women who fit the ideal of beauty. Because of the constant repetition, it has such a derogatory, misanthropic quality to it. I hate it, but it's great.

I remember dating a woman in and telling her that I love 'American Psycho' and that I found it hilarious. She started reading it, and I never heard from her again. That's what you call a red flag... not finding 'American Psycho' funny.

'Arbeit und Struktur' und 'Ist das ein Mensch' haben mich ziemlich stark getroffen. Ich habe danach ein eigenes Buch angefangen und extrem viel geschrieben (ca. 70-80 Seiten). Jeden Tag sich bewusst werden: Der Tod ist nichts Abstraktes. Dass man wirklich nur noch 3 Monate zu leben haben könnte. Bücher haben mich seitdem null interessiert. Immer wieder etwas angefangen und zur Seite gelegt.

My colleagues: I'm island-hopping in Thailand. Just lying on the beach and drinking cocktails.What are you doing on summer vacation?

Me: Oh, nothing much. Just reading some books...enjoying life

Three weeks later: a couple of books deep into an existential abyss.

It’s the wrong book for my new neighbor to ring my doorbell repeatedly and wake me up at almost midnight to tell me aggressively to stop making “those noises.” I was almost naked and had to explain to him that I don’t think he’s imagining “those noises,” but it wasn’t me either and that I was alteady sleeping. And still he wouldn’t leave my door. Maybe… I’m the trawler and I don’t know it yet.

I’ve always wanted to reread “The Shards,” mainly because I was very heartbroken when I read it the first time and the sex scenes progressively disgusted me.
Now I have to say that I find it quite funny, especially when I imagine BEE as an old geezer writing about his permanent horny teenage self. He also has a lot to say about culture. And the comparison with “Less Than Zero” is also interessting.

Bin leider etwas zu dumm für das Buch. Interessiert mich aber dennoch sehr!

Lyrische Ergüsse: "Er entsperrte sein iPhone. Es war 12.12 Uhr. Arnold dachte: 12.12 Uhr. Er dachte: Mir kommt es vor, als sei alles um mich herum gemacht. Arnold schaute aus dem Fenster. Arnold blickte auf sein iPhone. Es war 12.14 Uhr. Er ging in die Küche. Er nahm ein Glas. Er füllte das Glas mit Leitungswasser. Er trank das Wasser. Er füllte das Glas auf und trank es wieder aus."

In this moment I’m watching over a small girl named Stella(her real name). She is born with a rare condition and without eyeballs. She can’t speak and I don’t know if she knows she or the world exists. Stroking her head, lines like that hit different:
„Part of the puzzle of how we get from the mind to the world. A hundred billion synaptic events clicking away in the dark like blind ladies at their knitting“

This happens rarely, but when I started reading this 3 months ago, I really had to put it aside, because I could sense that it would mentally destabilize me too much. So I started from the beginning again, and I’m now back at the same passage where I left off, where he gets into those psychotic, manic thought loops, and I could feel the muscles in my face contort in consternation and aversion. Ugly, brutal stuff.

'Transit’ has already earned my award for ‘Most Times Fallen Asleep While Reading’ — which sounds negative, but it actually speaks to the absorbing, dreamlike quality of Rachel Cusk’s prose. It’s not a book I can read casually, because I read it dangerously slowly, but whenever I do, I’m left in awe of her mysterious way of thinking.

Back to business. Finally I have a good book going … I was already sinking into reading-slump-territory. I should write more reviews, but fuck my life, these past few months were stressful.

Completely flew over my head like psssh. Time travel, pandemic, hoverspaces. What is going on? Who is even speaking? Already past the halfway point and I didn’t care about anything. Maybe I’m the problem… I don‘t know… maybe I was always the problem, but I have honestly no idea why I should care about this thing.

Back from a very exhausting week-long class trip, and what I missed most wasn't food, the internet, silence, sex, or a cozy bed. It was the contemplation that arises especially through reading.

Yay, Sunday! What could be better than diving into a headache-inducing book?

🚨🚨🚨 Breaking: Elias Hirschl really made me laugh.

Everything in "Schleifen" happens on an idea level, similar to "Content", but much more playful and complex. It's mental (in the literal sense, but also in the British slang sense.).

Back at it, like a crack addict… and I thought I have overcome my Murakami addiction.

A second narrative voice was added, which was a good idea and felt refreshing at first, but it didn’t add much to the story… sooo I was able to eat again.

Even on the first couple of pages I could sense that this book has that magic “Oh wow, this is great and I have no idea why.” The narrative progresses in such a smooth, organic and psychologically convincing way. I’m getting into that territory where I forget to eat because I want to keep reading.

Stella Maris is slowly advancing to become a personal favorite. My mind is getting into a really special metaphysical state. All the big questions I have are discussed in here: reality, the self, sanity, the subconscious, life, death. On rereading I could focus on so many more subtle nuances — e.g. the names Alice and Bob are the placeholders used in cryptography and physics to refer to sender and receiver.

As my reading turned increasingly negative, I tried to approach the story purely for entertainment reasons, just to remain open.

I don’t even dislike the characters… I just don’t care about them, mainly because they feel like clichés. The whole book has a pseudo-deep smugness to it. A real audience pleaser.

Spoiler alert: This won’t be my favorite book.

It’s very apparent that Donna Tartt wanted to create a Harry Potter-type protagonist that you feel pity for. That didn’t worked out for me…I need a reason first to care about a character. I’m immersed in the book and it has a great, melodic language; however, I’m still not convinced that this is a story that needs to be told. In fact, it feels like a story I’ve heard many times before.

Finished the first chapter about Dutch art and an explosion and I’m already surprised how underwhelmed I am with the storytelling. Branch after branch with filigreed descriptions. Only 700 pages to go, yay!