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„sehr, sehr langweilig“ beschrieb der Literaturkritiker Marcel Reich-Ranicki noch vor seinem Tod das Werk Stifters. »Die Zeit«
                hingegen zählte den »Nachsommer« vor einigen Jahren zu den „großartigsten Romanen, die je geschrieben wurden“. Thomas
                Bernhard wiederum glaubte, „auf einer xbeliebigen Seite Stifter so viel Kitsch“ zu finden, „dass mehrere Generationen von poe-
                siedurstigen  Nonnen  und  Krankenschwestern  damit  befriedigt  werden  könnten“,  während  für  Friedrich  Nietzsche  der
                »Nachsommer« zu den wenigen Werken der deutschen Literatur gehörte, die es verdienten, „wieder und wieder gelesen zu wer-
                den“. Er nannte den Roman: „Im Grunde das einzige Buch nach Goethe, das für mich Zauber hat.“ – Bitterböse Verrisse und über-
                schwänglicher Applaus: Bis heute spaltet der Roman seine Leserschaft. Nur die Architekten waren sich in den vergangenen ein-
                hundert Jahren immer einig: Egal, ob Theodor Fischer zu Beginn des letzten Jahrhunderts oder Hans Kollhoff heute, Stifters
                »Nachsommer« war und ist ihr „Lieblingsbuch“.



                L   et’s go back to Paris in 1857, the much-invoked “capital of the 19th century”, literary modernism forges ahead in the form of
                    two works accompanied by scandals and lawsuits. For one thing, the police investigated writer Gustav Flaubert and his novel
                “Madame Bovary”. For another thing, poet Charles Baudelaire was on trial for his collection of poems “The Flowers of Evil”. In
                both cases the charge was “threat to public morals”. At the same time in the tranquil Town of Linz on the Danube - only about
                1,000 kilometres away and yet as if on a different planet – Adalbert Stifter, once a much acclaimed writer of short novels and mean-
                while superintendent of schools of Upper Austria, is working on the final corrections of his opus magnum. “Indian Summer – A  Stifters Rosenhaus
                Tale” will – just like Flaubert’s vicious “Madame Bovary” and Baudelaire’s diabolic “The Flowers of Evil” – become a book of world  Von Uwe Bresan. Erschienen 2016 in der Verlagsanstalt
                literature: it will be the “most boring book of world literature”. Stifter’s novel is an epic without fights, a drama without conflicts,  Alexander Koch, Leinfelden-Echter dingen. Deutsch. 248
                a narrative without highlights. So the story only impresses with the absence of any eventfulness: with unprecedented lengthiness  Seiten. Softcover. Format: 21,0 x 14,8 cm. Preis 16,50 EUR.
                the poet describes the life’s journey of a young man, Heinrich Drendorf, who one day gets caught in an approaching thunderstorm  ISBN 978-3-87181-906-3
                and looks for shelter: “There was a house on a hill, which seemed to be neither farmhouse nor any kind of outbuilding but rather
                resembled the country home of a townsman. [...] But as I approached it, it beheld a wondrous sight. The house was completely
                covered with roses.” This initial description introduces the so-called “Rosenhaus” to the history of literature and our young hiker,
                after having asked for asylum, spends several days in the company of the landlord and his family. As he departs, Heinrich is invited
                to regularly visit the house and its residents in the future. The external plot happening on the following almost 1,000 densely print-
                ed pages is hardly worth retelling. We can leave it by making the simple assessment that Heinrich will eventually marry the daugh-
                ter of his host and this will secure him a life in “simplicity, stability and meaning” ever after. In Austria, the poet is nowadays ven-
                erated as a “patron saint”, but about 150 years ago “Indian Summer” signified the end of a career with a hopeful start. Critics had
                no mercy. “Three thick volumes!” wrote Friedrich Hebbel when the novel was published: “We are sure not to risk anything if we
                promise the Crown of Poland to the person that can prove to have read them all without being obliged to do so as an art critic.”













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