Berg Literature Festival Committee) Alexandra Eberhard Project Coordinator/Point Person Prof
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HEIDELBERG UNESCO CITY OF LITERATURE English HEIDEL BERG CITY OF LITERATURE “… and as Carola brought him to the car she surprised him with a passionate kiss before hugging him, then leaning on him and saying: ‘You know how really, really fond I am of you, and I know that you are a great guy, but you do have one little fault: you travel too often to Heidelberg.’” Heinrich Böll Du fährst zu oft nach Heidelberg in Werke. Kölner Ausgabe, vol. 20, 1977–1979, ed. Ralf Schell and Jochen Schubert et. al., Kiepenheuer & Witsch Verlag, Cologne, 2009 “One thinks Heidelberg by day—with its surroundings—is the last possibility of the beautiful; but when he sees Heidelberg by night, a fallen Milky Way, with that glittering railway constellation pinned to the border, he requires time to consider upon the verdict.” Mark Twain A Tramp Abroad Following the Equator, Other Travels, Literary Classics of the United States, Inc., New York, 2010 “The banks of the Neckar with its chiseled elevations became for us the brightest stretch of land there is, and for quite some time we couldn’t imagine anything else.” Zsuzsa Bánk Die hellen Tage S. Fischer Verlag, Frankfurt am Main, 2011 HEIDEL BERG CITY OF LITERATURE FIG. 01 (pp. 1, 3) Heidelberg City of Literature FIG. 02 Books from Heidelberg pp. 4–15 HEIDELBERG CITY OF LITERATURE A A HEIDELBERG CITY OF LITERATURE The City of Magical Thinking An essay by Jagoda Marinic´ 5 I think I came to Heidelberg in order to become a writer. I can only assume so, in retro spect, because when I arrived I hadn’t a clue that this was what I wanted to be. Not even today can I really say whether I went to Heidelberg for that reason. Whether I discovered my wish or had it fulfilled here. What I do know is that I will never shake off the feeling that someone had already earmarked the spot for me before I even realised it. Someone who knew that I had to come to this town if I was to write. 6 HEIDELBERG CITY OF LITERATURE A FIG. 03 Slavoj Žižek That’s how it is with Heidelberg: whatever happens to you in this city, you have the feeling there’s a reason for it. What you’ve just experienced, what you saw, the person you just met—it cannot simply have happened like that. It’s as if thoughts gave rise to moments. And moments to other moments. And yet other thoughts. As if there was a hidden meaning waiting to be discovered. Nothing simply happens. An idea at the back of everything. And how else could it be, in the city of the “living spirit”? The living spirit invoked above the portal of the new university building, which some times even comes and takes a place inside, as for instance when Slavoj Žižek guests there and makes us forget what it was he actually intended to talk about. His latest book? Forget it! The world is large. And the lecture hall full of youngsters who scarcely can follow the swirling stream of thoughts spouting in glorious Slavenglish from this sixtysomething philosopher. Heidelberg, where the tickets for such events are sold out almost before they can be organised, where the city’s largest halls must be enlisted and even then the doors are closed in the youngsters’ faces because of fire regulations … We know all about that. It is Heidelberg, where at one of those lectures I’ll meet one of my former students who is about to leave Heidelberg in a day or two, who is saying farewell to me yet nevertheless says: “But you never leave Heidelberg.” And he’s right. Žižek goes. And Žižek stays. In the rooms. In the people. In the spirit of Heidelberg. Anyone who lives and works here is in danger of themselves becoming so lively and spirited that everything becomes imaginable and everything imaginable feasible. Hilde Domin, the now departed grande dame of poetry in Heidelberg, wrote: “I set my foot upon the air and it carried me”. Naturally I wanted to get to know this airborne lady after my first book was published. My editor once was her editor. Ulla Berkéwicz, wife of the publisher Siegfried Unseld, connected us up. I saw Hilde Domin five times. Three times at her home in HEIDELBERG CITY OF LITERATURE 7 The City of Magical Thinking FIG. 04 Hilde Domin in her study Graimbergweg. At our first meeting she wept. And forgot me after wards. At our second meeting her beaming face competed with the spray of margarites on the balcony, the sun alighted on her wonderfully timeaged face and bathed the age marks on her skin. This sun of a face is the one I see when I think of her. She forgot me. The third time we went together to the theatre, Frank Wedekind’s Spring Awakening, school theatre. My goodness how she had dressed herself up, and what a good mood. “Entranced” by the play. Until she got up from her chair—and fell. She forgot me again. With me, her fall, the evening. Every time I fetched her she asked: “And where do we know each other from?” At which I would relate the story of our last meeting. She simply nodded. Sometimes she smiled. Once she even said: “I can imagine that, that I liked you”. I did not call her any more after her fall. I would have had to tell her how she fell. And was unhappy when she arrived home. So at the door I added: “It was lovely, wasn’t it?” She took my hand and said: “Yes. But I had a fall”. She looked at me so sadly as she said it; yes, I thought, helplessly, a thing like that shouldn’t happen to someone who is borne by the air. I hoped she would forget it, like all of our previous meetings. After that evening I no longer dared to take this lady—who still had her hair done regularly—to the theatre or to readings on my own. Then one day the phone rang. The woman who had arranged my meetings with Hilde Domin wanted to know whether she had suffered a fall at our last meeting. She was in pain and didn’t know what from. “Yes”, I said. I should have told her right away, I thought to myself. Perhaps I had hoped her forgetfulness would also eliminate the pain. “After the play”, I said. “There were some steps 8 HEIDELBERG CITY OF LITERATURE between the chairs. She set foot on the air …”—“… and it didn’t carry her”, the woman finished. We laughed. It will heal, she assured me. A bruise that would go away. I never A ventured to visit her again. She has gone. And stayed. The air, that carries you. Yes, Heidelberg is the city of magical thinking, and like everything magical it is slightly removed from reality. When you enter Heidelberg you step through an invisible gateway. It is said that it was not by chance that Joanne K. Rowling introduced the Heidelberg Harriers team in her “Harry Potter” books. Some actually say it all began with a reading by the author at the beginning of the new millennium. Even before she rose to world fame at the end of 2000, she came to Heidelberg in the spring of that year to receive the “Heidelberger Leander”—the prize for children’s books. It was presented to her at a specially organised Harry Potter party. Naturally the Heidelberg Harrier do not stick to the rules of German declination, but they come close. And all that speaks more for the magical existence of this city than against it. We exist. We have a real railway station—it may not be King’s Cross, but it’s still a station. The number of tracks is ten. So 9 ¾ certainly fits in. We are currently looking for our track 9 ¾ so as to arrive in the future as a city of literature. Alison Bowden, adviser at the UNESCO Cities of Literature, said on her visit to the Literaturtage in Heidelberg: the fact that there is a Harry Potter team with our name shows we are almost there. Who else can claim as much? We hope we shall find track 9 ¾. Perhaps as many readers will follow us as him, Harry. We should be so lucky. I succumbed to the magic of this town the very first time I walked along its streets. For one whole summer I travelled round half of BadenWürttemberg, one stopoff after an other, in search of the first town of my own. I was nineteen and thought I’d look for the place where I wanted to study. Today I realise: I was looking for the town in which I can write. But because I was still thinking back then that I was looking for the town where I wanted to study, quite other things were important: this professor is interesting, or this subject can be combined with that. A tram that went up the high street could have tipped the balance, because it gave me the feel ing of being in a small big city. On that first day on which I visited it Heidelberg was almost ridiculously beautiful. Not because of the students who were rollerblading over the cobblestones as if it was nothing, who ate in the student’s union in Marstall and whose open expressions awakened a yearning for the life that was waiting for me.