Xaver Bayer: Today could be a happy day (2001)
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Author (Publisher Info, continued fighting)
Xaver Bayer, born in 1977 in Vienna, where he lives. Studies in philosophy and Germanic. 2002 Hermann Lenz scholarship. 2003 saw the release of the novel The Alaskastraße .
content (Publisher Info, Suhrkamp)
He is in his early twenties. Nobody should say that the best time in life. The days run into tougher uniformity. But why he is a nothing more than to go to places that are currently in demand, to drift through the city and wait for the invitation to the next opening? Only the music opens up rooms, sometimes at least. Otherwise, the Days of ritual sequences characterized. The motto could be:>> Vienna, Vienna, you know me up, know me down \u0026lt;\u0026lt;(Falco).
Today is a happy day could be as the last hope for someone who a generation belongs, easier to bear for the>> war as a Monday morning \u0026lt;\u0026lt;.
opinion
The narrator describes the aimless then splashing of student life, In a grim-the-day living, indeed almost a vegetating away. sleep until the afternoon, skipping lectures, home parties, drugs, alcohol, superficial acquaintances. In short, straightforward sentences of the first-person narrator tells of his daily routine, almost apathetic. As will be described as he stands in the supermarket at the checkout and beer purchases, as he sits at home in the flat and bored, like a spider crawling on his arm as he goes to the movies, at parties, in sex shop, premises and whenever the risk is that finally something is happening, there is a section, we wake the next afternoon with the protagonist, and it starts all over again. As the saying goes? Same shit, different day.
Although the narrator is aware that he wasted his life so, in some bright moments of his superficiality The talks, and his stoned friends forever contrary, he would like to break out of this rut, but in the end, everything remains the same. Who does not?
year after year I plan to lie fallow this time the summer not to let him exploit best efforts, and every year I find myself again on the road, surprised by the visible breath that leaves my breath in the air, and the summer seems to have passed again without leaving a trace. Always there are only memories that that was what, to replace. (P. 23)
At least at the end of the book would be expect a change, an awakening, but it you wait in vain. In a way the book is a novel development without development, which, although it is intended, no doubt, acts a bit paralyzing.
So honestly? A must have read it. But somehow it's quite nice, and it comes in front of a pleasantly familiar, if not the thoughts of the narrator, then at least the stations on all through Vienna: Flex, Café Westend and Co. And if you let yourself go with the narrator almost 200 pages long, you stumble over even the odd sentence that value is to be read several times.
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