Reiner Kunze: “Die wunderbaren Jahre” – A Reading by the Author in 1980

Reiner Kunze: Die wunderbaren Jahre.  Prosa.  (Frankfurt a. M.: Fischer Taschenbuch 2074, 1979), 125 pp.

Reiner Kunze (1944-2020) was forced to leave the GDR on April 13, 1977.  On April 9, 1980, he appeared in Manhattan where he gave a reading, mostly from Die wunderbaren Jahre.  At the time I was finishing up my dissertation at Cornell while working at Mary S. Rosenberg’s Foreign Language Bookstore.  I took a copy of Kunze’s Die wunderbaren Jahre and Zimmerlautstärke to the reading and followed along, making marginal notations and adding more later that evening.  What follows (starting with “Before the reading began…”) is based on those notes, with slight modifications to improve readability.

By the time I posted this in  June 2018, I could no longer recall where the event was held – probably at Columbia University.  It had rained hard all that day, which probably played a role in keeping the crowd small, and made up mostly of students.  Kunze was introduced by Prof. Volkmar Sander (1929-2011), who was at the time head of Columbia’s Deutsches Haus.

Before the reading began (which included a memorable rendition of his poem on Beethoven’s 5th), Kunze corrected Sander’s introduction.  He said he was not a “DDR-Bürger” in the West, rather he felt himself as belonging to the West.  In other words, he had no desire to go back to the East as soon as he could; instead, he was trying to put down roots here as soon as possible.  Before that he said, “Jeder weiβ, daβ der Riβ (oder die Grenze) zwischen Ost und West durch mich geht.“

He then read the following selections: „Sechsjähriger,” „Neunjährige,” „Zwölfjähriger,” „Clown, Maurer oder Dichter,” „Fünfzehn,“ „Menschenbild (I),“ „Revolte,“ and „Orgelkonzert.“  The audience seemed rather cold at the start and slow to warm up.  Even when they did laugh, as during „Fünfzehn,“ the atmosphere seemed wrong.  Before reading the last selection, „Orgelkonzert,“ he took care to mention the quotations from Altnikol, Schumann, Herder and Abraham noted in the Anmerkungen (pg. 122).  When he came to “Menschenbild (I)” he read it simply as “Menschenbild” without “eins.”  Unlike “Fensterputzer 2,” where he provided background of his winning respect from small-town neighbors in Thüringen by washing windows – otherwise he ‘lebt von seiner Frau’ – as Kunze said quoting his mailman.  ‘And it’s true,’ he said, now speaking for himself, back then he lived ‘von dem, was meine Frau gedient hat’ – a nice difference.

Since there were no questions asked after the reading, I jumped up and had him sign my copy before anyone else did.  He wrote:

Für

Hamilton Beck

mit Dank für

den Weg durch Streik

und Wetter,

Reiner Kunze

New York, d. 9.4.80

Then upstairs, the reception.  Reaction of this small turnout on a miserable night during the transit strike: Why didn’t he read anything new, only printed works?  Can he write only children’s literature in the West?  He doesn’t really have a standpoint from which to make criticisms of the West, and so lets himself be exploited by the media, et cetera.  Unless of course he is not so much exploited by them as in agreement with FJS [Franz Josef Strauss].

I waited until I thought he seemed sufficiently bored by the NYU Schickeria before asking him some questions, first about works in progress.  He said that the work (apparently poetry) that is now accumulating and that will be ready (or completed) in a few years would surprise and disappoint many who supported him for the wrong reasons.  He never regarded himself as an “opponent’ or “dissident”.  Instead, he wrote about what moved him personally, what he felt made an impression on him and which he attempted to draw out to the last consequences – exhausting the text.  Remarkable the way he, as it were, exploits each situation for all its value, yet the text remains relatively short – though I asked myself tonight if “Clown” etc. would not have been a better text if shorter.

At the time he said this, it seemed to be directed against leftist supporters who agreed with his critique of the DDR.  But when I remember his deliberately ambivalent way of expressing himself, it could just as well be meant that the conservatives in the BRD will be surprised, too.  This would seem to be more in tune with his sense of independence – he seems to me not the type to agree to any party platform.

When would his film be shown here? – Not anytime soon, he replied.  Even though it was produced by United Artists he did not think it would do well in the US.

In response to further questions he said he thought it was not a good film – or at least, not as good as it could have been, not the film he would have wanted to make, but, having never made a film before, he had had to rely on the judgment of people who knew the business, people who had worked in it for 25 years, and who had told him, “this won’t come across, this subtlety will get lost” – but he was quick to add that he could not blame the film’s artistic shortcomings (his term – I haven’t seen it) – on his advisors, they were only trying to do their best.  But if he had it to do over again, he would do it differently.  Not that he disagrees with “was gezeigt wurde, aber wie…”

And why would he not do it again?  He rubbed his fingers together to suggest lack of money, then said, “3 million marks.”  I raised my eyebrows – he said, “and that’s nothing nowadays.”

What did he think of Biermann’s critique?  Would he respond to it? – “No,” he did not think it necessary.  He accepted much of the critique.  Biermann seemed to have a reaction similar to that of everyone from the DDR or who knew the DDR – that it was just right, hit the nail on the head (he clenched his fist to characterize their reaction – this repeatedly), but maybe (he suggested) these people – not Biermann but the others – were moved by Kitsch-movies as well…

What a refreshing lack of self-importance!  What a willingness to listen and learn!  Especially in his attitude towards the Biermann article, which seemed to impress him most when B. said he had to cry after seeing it.  Not in the sense that Kunze triumphed, “Aha, I made him cry.” – No, much more in the sense, “Yes, I would have – and did – cry too about this movie.”

Kunze is not one who impresses so much through his great knowledge as through great sensitivity.

(See also the discussion of Zimmerlautstärke elsewhere at this site.)