Bücher

Dieses Buch ist ein echtes Ärgernis. Maximilian Probst plädiert für mehr Verbindlichkeit, aus der, so seine Hoffnung, ein mehr an echter Freiheit für die oder den Einzelne*n erwachsen soll.

Vielleicht bin ich ja nicht genügend vorgebildet, um Probsts wilden Ritt durch die Philopsophie- und Literaturgeschichte zu verstehen, aber: Mir ist nicht ganz klar, was er im Einzelnen will, wie er das alles begründet und wie überhaupt alles mit allem anderen zusammenhängen soll. Als Zeit-Autor ist Probst sicher nicht prädestiniert für kurze. knappe Texte, die ohne Umschweif zur Sache kommen, und in der Tat: sein Text ist zwar kurz und knapp, aber es will einfach nicht zur Sache kommen. Oder: Es will zu so vielen verschiedenen Sachen kommen, dass Überblick und etwaige Zusammenhänge rasch verloren gehen. Probst möchte mehr Verbindlichkeit, daher der Titel. Aber im privaten darf es vielleicht auch etwas freier zugehen. Der Sozialstaat soll gerettet werden, das ist löblich. Und die ständige Erreichbarkeit der Smartphone-Ära missfällt ihm. Außerdem gibt es noch das eine oder andere Anekdötchen aus seiner Ehe nachzulesen. Das könnte allerdings auch ausgedacht sein, wie der Autor klarstellt.

Tja, wo ist der rote Faden? Und wer interessiert sich für ausgedachte Episoden aus Probsts Eheleben?

Schon die Form des Textes ist nicht gerade geeignet, das Thema Verbindlichkeit anzugehen: Probst schreibt eine Art Tagebuch, in der die Einträge chronologisch geordnet sind, und mal hier-, mal dorthin mäandern, verbunden durch ein großes, gedachtes »Übrigens«.. Verbindlichkeit in der Litaratur würde meines Erachtens eine deutlich stringentere Gliederung und Zielsetzung voraussetzen.

Naja. Vielleicht ist das alles tatsächlich zu hoch für mich – anderer Leute Texte als schlecht zu kritisieren ist immer riskant, wenn man selber es sicher nicht besser machen könnte. Immerhin kann ich zur Verfasstheit des modernen Menschen bessere Texte empfehlen. Z.B. von Herrn Anders, dessen Texte älter, gleichwohl moderner und vor allem verständlicher sind.

Scientists claim that if you physically punish or otherwise abuse your child, that child will have a higher probability of becoming physically aggressive, cruel, or even criminial as a grown up. But other people contest that it is the inherently bad child that, on the one hand, is more likely to become (or rather: stay) miscreant as grown up and, on the other hand, more likely to be physically punished by its desparate parents.

The question if parental conduct influences a child's character or if it is the other way round lies at the heart of Shrivers novel about Kevin who grows up to kill 11 people in a highschool-shooting. The relation to his mother Eva is rocky right from the beginning and only gets worse. Kevin does not drink his mother's milk, he will not be pacified by her and certainly does not play with her. He ruins everything she holds dear while showing no attachment either to persons or objects. In the course of his childhood and youth there are multiple incidents in which Kevin hurts other children, which culminate in his killing eight co-students, one teacher, his father and his little sister.

Is all this the mother's fault? That is what Shriver’s novel-mother Eva asks herself and which the ending may imply. But although in her afterword the author claims otherwise, I have the impression that from the beginning almost to the end of the novel Kevin is described in a way that puts all the blame on him. He is presented as such an evil child that it is easy to understand how Eva denies him any love at all. The relationship to his father Franklin seems better, but only on first sight: Eva is rightly convinced that Kevin only plays happy family with him and indeed, towards the end of the novel, Kevin himself describes his father as a dupe.

So, according to the novel, the responsibilty clearly lies with Kevin who simply is an evil character.

But: this is a novel, it is fiction. The author herself does not have children because she does not want to. Of course she, too, has every right to write about what forms children’s characters - but how should she know? The Kevin in the novel is definitely a flat character and not really convincing. He is not modelled along the lines of real persons, he is not modelled according to scientific findings. What the novel really tells us is how the relation between children's characters and parental ways are in Shrivener's  mind. Therefore, the novel will not give us any relevant insights. It might, however, raise relevant questions or just be entertaining. But beware: reading about Kevin really hurts.

Paul Auster writes what at first sight seem to be classic detective novels set in the 1940s. All the usual clichees are there - the lone wolf detective, the shabby suroundings, the myterious clients and their enigmatic communications. Still, all the cases develop in an unexpected way: They drag on and on, peetering out and dissolving into nothing. But not before they absorb the detective's life completely, raising questions about identity, truth, and meaning, which are generally left open and unresolved.

This is a strange mix between a dictionary, an encyclopedia, and a linguistic history book. Taggart gives explanations on the origins of modern English words. The book is organised by topics, e.g. Fun and Games, Sex 'n' Drugs 'n' Rock 'n' Roll or Hi- and Lo-Tech.

There's a lot of responsibility coming with parenthood. Different people have different concepts of how exactly to cope with this responsibility, but about everyone would agree that Guy Delisle's approach is the bsolute worst. Therefore, the title »Guide to Terrible Parenting« is more than appropriate.

Delisle's has a minimalastic style in drawing but a vivid and rich imagination in texting. The father he depicts in this collection of cartoons is absolutely inept but immensely recognisable and sympethetic.

Apart from telling us how not to be parent, he also has tips on how to teach: