eJournals Colloquia Germanica 45/3-4

Colloquia Germanica
cg
0010-1338
Francke Verlag Tübingen
Es handelt sich um einen Open-Access-Artikel, der unter den Bedingungen der Lizenz CC by 4.0 veröffentlicht wurde.http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/121
2012
453-4

Presenting a Moment of the Past: Third Positions in Uwe Timm’s Works

121
2012
Antje Krueger
cg453-40386
Presenting a Moment of the Past: Third Positions in Uwe Timm’s Works AN T J E K RUEGER Goucher College In Atmosphere, Mood, Stimmung: On a Hidden Potential of Literature (2012), Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht voices the concern that literary scholarship is suffering an intellectual and theoretical deadlock that has been brought about by two dominant schools of thought. «Today, after manifold departures, reorganizations, and metamorphoses […], we find ourselves facing marked - indeed, seemingly irreconcilable, mutually exclusive - differences between two basic assumptions concerning the ontology of literature» (2). On the one hand there is Deconstruction, which has, in Gumbrecht’s view, always belonged to the «linguistic turn of philosophy.» «This has meant - and, for its adherents, it continues to mean - that contact between language and reality outside of language cannot occur» (2). On the other hand there is Cultural Studies, which Gumbrecht understands as an approach that has not been sufficiently skeptical about literature’s connection with extralinguistic realities. He emphasizes that researchers in this field often do not challenge the validity of empirical research and treat its results with a «certain carefree attitude toward epistemology» (3). Gumbrecht does not support one or the other position; rather, he advocates for a third position, one that can overcome these contrasts and tensions. He writes that the German concept of Stimmung can give form to this third position. Thus, he suggests that interpreters and historians of literature should read with «Stimmung in mind» (3). Gumbrecht’s reading for Stimmung struck me in a very particular way. When reading the first few pages, I found myself excited and drawn to his arguments. Spontaneously, I wrote down some notes that expressed my feelings. For instance, I wrote that I loved his central thesis. The reader encounters this claim in the introduction. There he states «that concentrating on atmospheres and moods offers literary studies a possibility for reclaiming vitality and aesthetic immediacy that have, for the most part, gone missing» (12). Also, I found myself fascinated by his ideas regarding the effects of a reading for Stimmung. He describes that a reader’s concentration on Stimmung could bring about a «presentification of past atmospheres and moods» that «convey a historical immediacy» (15). Presenting a Moment of the Past 387 His arguments reminded me of my own struggle to find a way to do analytical justice to texts written by Uwe Timm, in particular the use of what Timm calls sprechende Situationen, scenes based on forms of Vergegenwärtigung. Reading Gumbrecht’s introduction left me excited and inspired, since it seemed to offer a refreshing and unorthodox model for approaching literary texts. Gumbrecht calls for a new way of engaging with literary texts and their historical contexts that entails a different way of writing about them. He distances himself from the typical scholarly writing style and discussion by refusing to engage with «ponderous footnotes and apparatuses» (18). In his book, he chooses David Wellberry’s rich analysis of the term Stimmung for the Historisches Wörterbuch ästhetischer Grundbegriffe as his point of departure. He explains that he is not interested in the question of «how literary texts relate to realities outside of works, but rather in the ontology of literature» (Gumbrecht 2). Looking more closely at Gumbrecht’s new way of writing, I found that his essay creates its own Stimmung. He employs a particular writing style that could be positioned between scholarly article and biographical narrative. He repeatedly poses pertinent and exciting questions with regard to Stimmung in specific literary texts. Yet, in contrast to the typical scholarly essay, he appears to prefer to describe these texts over reflecting further on his approach. For instance, in his chapter on Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18, he takes the following question as point of departure: «What is it of the sonnet’s beauty and power that touched me so deeply - when I was sixteen or seventeen - that it stayed with me, like the small scar on my left hand that I got in a bicycle accident? » (39). Even though the question points to a productive link between Stimmung, body, and mind, Gumbrecht chose not to discuss this connection. Rather, he explains that Shakespeare «charges» the text with «energy» by allowing his writing a certain literalness and concreteness (42). Yet, besides mentioning this narrative strategy, Gumbrecht omits to explain why a reader might be engaged or react in the way he did when he was sixteen or seventeen. However, Gumbrecht does not only comment on literary texts, he also adds some biographical reminiscences and personal observations to his essay. For instance, he describes in detail a former English teacher named Emil Reuter. «With Emil Reuter, we read and discussed Oscar Wilde’s Canterville Ghosts word by word - so slowly that today, almost fifty years later, I can still recite lengthy passages from memory» (38). Gumbrecht’s pronounced use of an I that describes, and sometimes expresses feelings, invites the reader’s reaction or empathetic reading. He generally steers clear of the 388 Antje Krueger references and abstract terminology of a scholarly idiom, instead seeking a certain concreteness, his own rhythm and structure. Moreover, Gumbrecht places a strong emphasis on the actual performance of a text that could bring about a «presentification» of past moods and atmospheres. Gumbrecht claims that some texts are able to touch us on the «inside.» With regard to Shakespeare’s sonnet, he describes the phenomenon as follows: Whoever recites Shakespeare’s sonnets - or stages his plays - lends physical presence to the words, phrases, and rhythms of his day, calling forth a vanished world. This is not a matter of «remembering» - as one says all too readily - but of «making-present.» When they are called forth to new life, the words strike the bodies of listeners from without; at the same time, they - and the images and meanings they convey - affect us «like a touch from inside.» (39-40) This strikes me as an excellent description of how any kind of vocal performance can create an intimate connection between the listener and the text. Gumbrecht hints here at the physical and psychological dimension of the listening and reading process that can bring about a certain Stimmung. When engaging with his book, I realized that Gumbrecht’s advocacy for an experiment that entails new ways of thinking and speaking about literary texts triggered my initial, enthusiastic reaction to his proposed ideas. Simply put, he found a way to speak to me, while I, for my part, listened and reacted with body and mind. Thus, Gumbrecht not only gained my scholarly interest with questions pertinent to my own research, he also managed to affect me emotionally. However, although Gumbrecht lays claim to a form of vitality when responding to and writing about literary texts, I did not find his essay productive in the sense that it provided an answer to the question of why some texts are able to affect us «like a touch from the inside.» But I found that Gumbrecht’s use of Stimmung in his essay and literary texts by Uwe Timm produce similar effects that would strike a chord with me. Thus, I asked myself if Timm’s work could offer insights into Gumbrecht’s initial question why certain literary texts create a specific Stimmung and affect us. Timm’s literary work is accompanied by many essays in which he reflects on his writing. In these essays, he also emphasizes tonal qualities of the language. In Die Stimme beim Schreiben, he stresses the ability to hear and listen to his own voice while writing: Ich gehöre zu denjenigen, die sich beim Schreiben selbst hören, höre mich sprechen, deutlich, auch jetzt, wenn ich dieses schreibe, ich höre meine Stimme, die recht unterschiedlich spricht, unterschiedlich im Tempo, in der Modulation, im Presenting a Moment of the Past 389 dialektalen Anklang, oft im Hamburger Tonfall. Es ist ein akustischer Raum, der mich begleitet und der mich stets an das Hamburg meiner Kindheit denken lässt. (401) Furthermore, Timm seeks to musically reanimate his texts: «Es geht darum, in einer aus der Erfahrungswelt kommenden, durch den reflektierenden Schreibprozess ihrer selbst bewusst gewordenen Sprache die Gedankenwelt zum Klingen zu bringen» (404). Even though Stimmung and Stimme are etymologically connected, Gumbrecht is not interested in this relationship. However, Timm’s notion of charging the narrative voice for conveying immediacy in literary texts can be found at the core of his writing. In particular, he embedded so-called sprechende Situationen in his narratives. In my view these scenes could offer potential answers for Gumbrecht’s questions. A closer investigation of Timm’s development of sprechende Situationen leads to events that happened at the beginning of his career as a writer. Timm himself addresses these events in the autobiographical narrative Der Freund und der Fremde (2005). In this story, he reveals that he was a close friend of Benno Ohnesorg in the early 1960s. In addition, he also narrates the circumstances that led to Ohnesorg’s death during a student protest aimed against the visit of the Shah of Iran in West Berlin in 1967. Timm and Ohnesorg met and became friends at the Braunschweig Kolleg, a school that allowed older students to obtain the Abitur outside of the Gymnasium. As described in Der Freund und der Fremde, Timm and Ohnesorg shared a deep passion for reading and writing, and both of them returned to school with the goal of becoming writers. In the course of their studies at the Braunschweig Kolleg, Ohnesorg became Timm’s first reader and vice versa. They also planned to move to Berlin together after having passed their Abitur. Yet, after their graduation from the Braunschweig Kolleg, they lost touch, since Timm decided to study in Munich while Ohnesorg went to Berlin. In his memoir, Timm mentions that he was deeply shocked and troubled when he found out about Ohnesorg’s death. He was in Paris at the time, working on his dissertation. He remarks that he was not sure if he understood the name of the victim correctly when he first heard the news on the radio. He describes how he felt after calling friends in Germany to find out more about what happened: Nach einem Anruf in Deutschland gab es keinen Zweifel mehr, er war es, der Freund. Ich war wie durch einen Schnitt getrennt von all meinen Formulierungen, Überlegungen, starrte auf die beschriebenen Seiten, auf meine Handschrift, und sie erschien mir plötzlich merkwürdig fremd. Ich ging hinunter, lief durch den 390 Antje Krueger Park […], im Kopf ein Gemenge von Bildern, Situationen, Sätzen - Erinnerungsfetzen, in denen er auftauchte […]. Nachdem ich einige Zeit durch die Straßen gelaufen war, ging ich zurück in mein Zimmer, setzte mich an den Schreibtisch, stapelte die handgeschriebenen Seiten des Kapitels, an dem ich arbeitete, aufeinander, schob sie zusammen und legte sie in das Regal. Ich wusste, in den nächsten Tagen würde ich daran nicht mehr weiterschreiben können. (10) Timm uses the autobiographical narrative to work through his friend’s biography and their friendship more than thirty-five years after his death. His approach to recounting parts of his friend’s life and the structure of the narrative resemble strategies that he had also used in Am Beispiel meines Bruders (2003). Der Freund und der Fremde deploys a wide array of different texts: scenes from their shared time in Braunschweig, recollections about their interest in literature and writing, conversations with friends and family about his life in Berlin, quotes from Ohnesorg’s own writings, reflections on Timm’s time as a student in Munich and Paris, and excerpts from documents from the official investigation of Ohnesorg’s death. Furthermore, Timm dedicates parts of his memoir to describing how Ohnesorg’s death disturbed and alienated him. Along with many other students, he turned his anger and frustration about the flawed police investigation of Ohnesorg’s death, which covered up more than it disclosed, and the biased media coverage into political activism. The students understood the shooting as a willful act, which contributed to the radicalization of the German student movement. The image of the dying Ohnesorg, taken shortly after his assassination, quickly turned into an iconographic expression of the students’ view of a biased judicial system. Upon his return to Germany in the fall of 1967, Timm suspended work on his dissertation and became involved with the Sozialistischer Deutscher Studentenbund. This involvement consisted not only in the creation and distribution of political flyers, or in leading teach-ins, but also in working out a different tone and language in writing as well as finding different subjects. Up to this point, Timm, who had published his first texts as a student in Munich in the mid-1960s, had mainly written experimental poetry, and he was strongly influenced by French existentialism, in particular the concept of indifférence. In the course of the student movement, he became much more interested in expressing his subjective feelings and started writing about contemporary events such as the student movement. He worked with fictional characters, imagined scenes, and emphasized sensual perceptions and emotions in his texts. Timm stated in Der Freund und der Fremde that he had promised to himself to write about Benno Ohnesorg. Yet, he struggled to find an adequate Presenting a Moment of the Past 391 language and failed, at the time, to find a way to express the shock and the trauma of his friend’s death and, concurrently, to represent the complexity of his personality and life. He found that his highly politicized view of Ohnesorg’s death interfered with writing about him as a friend: Wäre er infolge einer Krankheit oder eines Unfalls gestorben, wäre Trauer um ihn möglich gewesen, so aber war sein Tod ein Skandal, der in Kommentaren, Erklärungen und Gegenerklärungen abgehandelt wurde, und ich selbst musste bei jedem Bericht […], immer wieder dazu Stellung nehmen. […] Ich fand keine Sprache für ihn, jeder Satz bekam einen aggressiven, abstrakt politischen Ton - einen Ton, der nie der seine gewesen war. (12) Timm stated in Der Freund und der Fremde that he gave up writing about Benno Ohnesorg in the early stages of his career. But I would argue that parts of Timm’s work have been shaped by questions that concerned him while trying to write about Ohnesorg and the specific circumstances of his death. All of his writings address the question of how to get closer to another’s personality and how to bring that person to life in a text. His novels recount biographies of historical figures, or of people Timm was related to or acquainted with (e.g., Heißer Sommer, 1974; Morenga, 1978; Kerbels Flucht, 1980; Der Mann auf dem Hochrad, 1984; Kopfjäger, 1991; Die Entdeckung der Currywurst, 1993; Johannisnacht, 1996; Am Beispiel meines Bruders, 2003; Halbschatten, 2008). His stories and novels show an author searching for a way to write about past lives that allows for closeness with his protagonists’ personalities. Yet, they also demonstrate that Timm does not simply pretend to imagine scenes from his figures’ lives. The fact that historical events are always seen from a certain distance and re-narrated with a subjective bias is an explicit part of Timm’s narrative stance. In an interview with Christof Hamann, he outlines this position as follows: «Ich halte es für fürchterlich naiv, ein vergangenes Ereignis so zu erzählen, als hätte man unter dem Tisch oder unter dem Bett gelegen und mitstenographiert. Wer sich einem historischen Gegenstand annähert, muss eben immer auch diese Annäherung thematisieren und damit die Distanz zum Geschehen festhalten» (Hamann 452). In this passage, Timm refers to his early novel Morenga. Looking more closely at this text, one finds that he creates distance to the narrated events by exploring the historical background that shaped his protagonists’ lives. He re-narrates scenes from his protagonists’ lives, but he also adds passages in which a narrator comments on historical events, asks questions, and analyses their impact. Timm’s early novels like Morenga and Der Mann auf dem Hochrad already show that he had developed a particular literary mode to address these different aspects. This mode is particular in the sense that it contrib- 392 Antje Krueger utes to «making past lives present» without ignoring the irreconcilable fact of historical distance. Thus, Timm’s narratives appear as two-fold as they allow for closeness and distance at the same time. Timm combines two different narrative modes to create these effects. On the one hand, he uses a writing style that is shaped by elements one would find in oral storytelling: it utilizes vivid depictions, references to dialogues, and an emphasis on emotions and other sensual perceptions. This narrative mode allows Timm to narrate scenes from a person’s life. At the core of these scenes, one finds Timm’s sprechende Situationen. These are scenes that carry condensed, allegoric meaning. On the other hand, he adds scholarly passages in which he quotes from documents and comments on events. Timm’s novels include many examples of sprechende Situationen. For instance, in Schlangenbaum (1986) we read about an engineer who is commissioned to build a factory in a country in Latin America governed by a military junta. In the end, the whole factory disappears into a swamp. This imagery suggests the chaotic, despotic conditions of life the engineer faces during the time he works on the project. In Der Mann auf dem Hochrad, the main character, Franz Schröter, dedicates himself to the introduction of the high-wheeler in his hometown Coburg around 1885. Because he is initially opposed to female participation in the sport, his wife Anna teaches herself in secret the art of keeping balance on the high-wheeler, and one day he finds her bicycling in the streets of Coburg: [A]uf dem Hochrad saß eine Frau, seine Frau, die Anna, von ihm auch zärtlich Wöddel genannt. Sie fuhr eine große Linkskurve und danach eine Rechtskurve, und sie fuhr keineswegs verkrampft, im Gegenteil, sie fuhr gelöst, und sie lächelte […]. Sie sah sehr adrett und ordentlich aus, hatte das dichte braune Haar hochgesteckt […], trug die eng geschnittene Kostümjacke, die er an ihr mochte, und darunter einen braunen langen Rock, oder waren das zwei Röcke, oder eine Hose, eine Hose mit extrem weit geschnittenen Hosenbeinen, eine Mischung von beidem, ein Hosenrock. (92) The scene not only beautifully describes Anna Schröter’s first public ride on the high-wheeler, it can also be read as an allegory of women’s emancipation at the end of the nineteenth century. The scene shows how Anna literally distances herself from traditional gender roles by getting on the bicycle and dispensing with typical women’s clothing. Moreover, the narrator emphasizes the fact that something unheard of had just happened: masses of people are watching the lady cyclist, and some are even trying to keep up with her pace by running next to the high-wheeler: «Die Menge tobte aus Empörung und vor Begeisterung über diese so ganz und gar ungehörige Frau, meine Tante, sie, die erstmals das Hochrad bestieg, Presenting a Moment of the Past 393 nicht als Mann verkleidet, und so in aller Öffentlichkeit zeigte, dass auch eine Frau diese Maschine fahren kann und, mehr noch, dass es auch Spass macht» (93). We also find an early example for a sprechende Situation with regard to Benno Ohnesorg’s death. Timm included a description of the photographs that showed the dying Ohnesorg on 3 June 1967 in his first novel Heißer Sommer. He describes how his protagonist, Ullrich, sees the pictures while reading a newspaper: Ullrich sah die Fotos in der Zeitung. Der Student am Boden liegend. Über ihn gebeugt eine junge Frau in einem weiten schwarzen Abendkleid. Sie hält seinen Kopf. Am Hinterkopf und auf dem Boden: Blut. Daneben ein anderes Foto, drei Polizisten schlagen und treten auf einen am Boden liegenden Demonstranten ein, der sein Gesicht mit den Händen zu schützen versucht. (53) Timm’s use of the photographs takes on a central role, as Ullrich - similar to many other students during that time - becomes much more politically active after he learns about the shooting of Benno Ohnesorg. This description could be understood as an early, somewhat limited example of a sprechende Situation. Timm uses visual cues to comment on and illustrate the context of Ohnesorg’s death. He describes what Ullrich notices, but Timm’s depictions transcend the actual content. He describes how the first image shows the last minutes of Ohnesorg’s life while an unknown woman holds his head. The description resembles the image of a pietà. Thus, it conveys grief, and it also speaks to the fact that Ohnesorg was later turned into an icon for the student movement. Moreover, the description of the second photograph captures violent actions committed by the police during the demonstration. Similarly, it refers to the fact that the police abused their status and power during the protest. Thus, Timm’s depiction of the two photographs comments on different aspects of Ohnesorg’s death. Yet, it is not a fully developed example of a sprechende Situation. This passage is the only description of Ohnesorg in Heißer Sommer, and Timm does not explore any other aspect of his life in the novel. In Erzählen und kein Ende (1993), an essay collection in which Timm reflects about his own writing, he defines sprechende Situationen further. He understands them as unusual incidents that are based on very detailed descriptions. However, they are not just empirically oriented depictions of events, but are composed in a way that transcends the actual content. Timm describes them as follows: «Die Situationen sind aufgebaut aus Detailbeschreibungen, aber ebenso, dass diese Situationen über sich hinausweisen, also das sind, was ich sprechende Situationen nenne, um sie nicht mit dem gewichtigen Wort Symbol zu belasten» (68). 394 Antje Krueger In a way, Timm’s sprechende Situationen are reminiscent of the nineteenth-century notion of the unerhörte Begebenheit, though there are differences. For example, nineteenth-century authors described the unerhörte Begebenheit as an event marked by its original, unique or simply new quality. Timm, in contrast, is interested in events that are «unheard of» in a more literal sense. All of his stories are based on actual historical events that are neither new nor invented, but rather forgotten. Timm functions as collector of these stories and re-narrates them in a unique, unheard-of way. Timm does, however, use another feature of the nineteenth-century novella that goes along with the unerhörte Begebenheit. Similarly to the novella, his stories employ a fictitious narrator who rediscovers and presents the main story. These narrators are themselves frequently authors or professional orators (e.g., in Der Mann auf dem Hochrad, Kopfjäger, Die Entdeckung der Currywurst, Johannisnacht, Rot). Timm uses these storytellers to bring events to life. In particular, he presents their accounts by using a blend of indirect and free indirect speech. This particular mode of narration recreates and plays with typical elements of authentic, spontaneous oral storytelling. In Erzählen und kein Ende, Timm includes an example of such a sprechende Situation: Als Lehrling habe ich einmal den Persianermantel von der Frau des ehemaligen Reichsaußenministers von Ribbentrop ausgebessert, den Mantel wiederum hatte, Mitte der dreißiger Jahre, der Meister angefertigt, der mich ausbildete, ein Sozialist […]. Der erzählte mir also, dass er, als er an dem Persianermantel arbeitete, eine Stelle, eine Lockenbildung in Form eines Sowjetsterns, auf dem Rücken gelassen habe […]. Das war kein großer Widerstandsakt, aber doch ein kurioses Detail […], vielleicht hatte die Locke ja tatsächlich einmal so sternhaft geglänzt, dass sie einem scharfen Beobachter aufgefallen sein musste. Vielleicht konnte man sich gegenseitig darauf aufmerksam machen. Vielleicht - oder wahrscheinlich - reichte es aber auch schon aus, dass man in der Werkstatt glaubte, das sei möglich. Was zu dieser Geschichte gehört, ist, dass jemand noch davon erzählen konnte, sie noch kannte, und so dem Detail erst seine Bedeutung geben konnte. Ein ganz winziges Detail, aber gerade solche Details interessieren in der Alltagsästhetik. (93-94) In this example, Timm recounts a story that has been handed down as an anecdote in a furrier’s workshop, an oral narrative not based on any type of written documentation. The central detail - the hardly noticeable Soviet star - functions as a symbol of resistance to the Nazi regime in the realm of everyday life. Timm, who appears to be the first-person narrator of the text, gives an account of this short anecdote. In addition, he retells not only the story, but also reproduces its mode of narration by using the blend of indirect and free indirect speech described above. Presenting a Moment of the Past 395 Timm’s recreation of his own rhythm of speech - characterized by a sequence of short, sometimes fragmented sentences - along with his particular choice of words, suggest the voice of an oral storyteller. Markus Lorenz calls Timm’s playful use of these elements Als-ob-Mündlichkeit (Lorenz 70-71), which creates for the reader the effect as if he or she were listening to a recited text. These effects call forth the figures’ past lives and contribute to «making them present.» As mentioned above, Gumbrecht describes such effects in terms of a «presentification» in the imagination of the reader. However, considering that Timm emphasizes tonal qualities of the language such as rhythm, sound, and tone, perhaps the closest analogy to what Timm is doing is in the medium of music. For instance, the music critic Paul Ellie describes similar effects when listening to recordings by Bach pieces. He writes that «in the age of recordings, the past isn’t wholly past and the present isn’t wholly present, and our suspension in time, our intimacy with the most sublime expressions of people distant and dead, is a central fact of our experiences. This is at once a benefit and a quandary» (7). Furthermore, he understands the experience as «direct, real,» defying «the argument that experience mediated by technology is a diminished thing» (10). While Elie’s observations are informed by ideas of Deconstruction, he argues - to speak with Gumbrecht - for a third position. He points to the fact that the music is distant in the sense that it has been performed for a recording in the past; yet the act of listening to the recording still allows for intimacy with the past performance. Timm’s sprechende Situationen create a similar experience. They are written as text, yet - in the Als-ob-Mündlichkeit of the narrator’s voice - they «speak» to their readers/ listeners when being recited or read. Moreover, Timm’s stories offer the reader the opportunity to engage emotionally with the figures and their experiences. Very often, narrators retreat into the background of the stories, and just recount the figures’ speeches, emotions, and sensual perceptions. These scenes, by comparison, allow for an empathic reading that seems to bring the narrated events to life. For instance, a scene from Der Mann auf dem Hochrad illustrates how a seemingly static imagery evokes liveliness and motion. As mentioned above, the narrator of Der Mann auf dem Hochrad recounts the biography of the Coburg bicycle pioneer Franz Schröter. While passionately riding the highwheeler in his free time, he also works full-time as a taxidermist, a field in which he is a real innovator. Here is the description of his masterpiece: Er betrachtete den Gorilla, der jetzt fertig im Licht der Petroleumlampe stand. Er steht auf dem linken Bein neben dem Baum, dessen Ast die erhobene rechte Hand hält, der rechte Fuß, ebenfalls leicht erhoben, umgreift mit seinem Klammerzeh 396 Antje Krueger die entrindete thüringische Esche, der linke Arm schwingt aus, als wolle er gerade nachgreifen - oder hat er den Stamm losgelassen, steigt das Tier hoch oder runter, greift es an oder flieht es? So steht es, still und bewegt. Das Tier war schon jetzt, in diesem glatten Ton, bedrohlich lebendig. Das Glockenzeichen erklang, ein melodisches Ding-Dong, da glaubte Schröder [sic] plötzlich, der Gorilla habe sich bewegt. Entsetzt starrte er das Tier an, hörte auf zu treten. Es war still, bis auf das Surren des auslaufenden Rades. Schröder sagte sich, dass er einer Sinnestäuschung erlegen war, die Folge der schlaflosen Nächte, Resultat seiner Müdigkeit […]. Doch dann sah er, wie sich langsam der ausgestreckte Arm vom Stamm löste, wie sich Hand und Arm auf den großen furchtbaren Kopf legten, der sich unter dieser Last nach vorn neigte, langsam, nachdenklich, als suche er etwas auf dem Boden, und dann, von einem unheimlichen Schrei begleitet, zu Boden fiel. (183) 1 Timm recounts here a scene that «speaks» to readers by appealing to their imagination, sensual perceptions, and empathy. We - as the readers - know that the anecdote is rather implausible. However, in the end, we have to decide for ourselves whether we would like to believe that Schröder heard an uncanny sound or doubt that story. Timm uses another narrative strategy that creates closeness to the historical figures and events. He includes many references and quotes from secondary sources that connect his story to the world outside of the text. Often, Timm’s narrators cite such sources or comment on them. Furthermore, the author himself seems to vouch for the authenticity of the stories, such as when he uses elements of his own biography for his narrators. The main characters in Der Mann auf dem Hochrad, for example, are far from being purely fictional. In several essays, Timm mentions his uncle and aunt, Franz and Anna Schröder, who lived in Coburg until the 1950s. He also noted in one of his essays that his father apprenticed with his uncle and worked for some time as a taxidermist. Furthermore, the narrator in Der Mann auf dem Hochrad quotes from Fahrrad und Radfahrer, an early history of bicycles and bicycling in Germany. The author mentions a Franz Schröder as the inventor of the «sich selbstthätig auslösende Lenkstange» (Wolf 182). The purpose of his invention was to protect the rider from accidents. Fahrrad und Radfahrer includes an illustration of Schröder’s invention along with a description. Here, the narrator/ Timm acts and speaks like a historian who presents sources and unknown facts about the characters. Nevertheless, while Timm calls forth the past lives of his figures, he also creates distance and undercuts the effects of making them present. For instance, in the above-mentioned example about the Soviet star on the fur coat, he points out that the listeners - or the readers - do not need to believe in the story, since there is some doubt about its basis in fact. Timm might have Presenting a Moment of the Past 397 heard the story himself, or he might have imagined it. Similarly, we cannot be sure if all facts and events in Der Mann auf dem Hochrad are really true. At the beginning of the novel, the narrator summarizes the sources he used in researching and presenting the story. The summary makes it clear that they vary highly in their degree of reliability: «Meine Recherchen gehören zu dieser Geschichte und die Erinnerung an eigene Kindheitsvorstellungen und neuerdings auch ein Traum» (10). In Erzählen und kein Ende, Timm coined the expression wunderbarer Konjunktiv for this narrative strategy. He understands this mode of narration as follows: «Eine Geschichte, die nicht versucht, uns weiszumachen: So ist es gewesen, sondern: So könnte es gewesen sein. Das ist der wunderbare Konjunktiv. Wunderbar, weil er uns die Freiheit gibt, eine andere Wirklichkeit zu schaffen, und weil er das Diktat der Chronologie durchbricht» (122). Timm’s wunderbarer Konjunktiv resembles in its wording Aristotle’s definition of a poet’s writings. Aristotle outlines his characteristics in chapter nine of his Poetics. There, he explains that the poet should not mimic the historical events, but instead should tell what might have happened. Conversely, the historian should document and refer only to the facts of given incidents (29). However, Timm’s twofold narrative creates a third position that blurs Aristotle’s clear distinction between a poet and a historian. His stories speak to both sides of the term Geschichte, producing effects that create the intimacy of a literary narrative, but also the distance that goes with a historical account. By the same token, they frequently call into question clear distinctions between fact and fiction. His narratives remind the reader of multistabile Kippfiguren. These are reversible figures embodying seemingly incompatible perspectives. Thus, they seem to be true and invented at the same time. All of Timm’s stories are shaped by a similar approach. They demonstrate that the categories fact and fiction do not exclude each other in the sense of opposites, but that they rather work together interdependently. In his collection of texts and essays Vogel, friss die Feige nicht: Römische Aufzeichnungen (1989), Timm describes an Italian sculpture that exemplifies this interdependence: Der eine, ein bärtiger, muskulöser Mann, hat seinen Gegner, einen jüngeren Mann, gepackt und in einer Drehung hochgehoben, um ihn mit einem einzigen kraftvollen Schwung, kopfüber, zu Boden zu schleudern, wenn der nicht seinen Hodensack ergriffen hätte und umklammert hielte. So kann der eine wie der andere nicht loslassen, und sie stehen buchstäblich versteinert da. Nahm mir vor, diese Statue zu kaufen […] als allegorische Darstellung des Realismus. Man kann sich aussuchen, welcher Ringer die Wirklichkeit und welcher die Literatur darstellt. (13) 398 Antje Krueger Timm’s portrayals of historical events and biographies are clearly shaped by this conflicted relation. They bring about something third - something that Paul Elie would call «direct» or «real» - that the reader encounters while immersed in the stories. Timm employs this narrative mode in all of his texts whether or not he understood them as novels, autobiographical narratives, or simply essays. In Der Mann auf dem Hochrad, Timm used a narrator who also acts as a biographer. The narrator tells Franz and Anna Schröder’s stories, but also includes parts of Timm’s own biography. Thus, the narrative mode he developed for that novel allowed him to talk about people who were close to him such as family members and friends. He would make use of the same approach in every novel that followed, most notably in Kopfjäger, Die Entdeckung der Currywurst, Johannisnacht, and Rot. We find similar writing strategies in the texts that can be understood as autobiographical writings, such as Vogel, friss die Feige nicht; Am Beispiel meines Bruders; and Der Freund und der Fremde. In these texts, Timm talks about his own biography, but also about people who were close to him. For instance, Vogel, friss die Feige nicht includes a short biographical narrative about his close friend Heinar Kipphardt, in Am Beispiel meines Bruders he recounts scenes from his older brother’s life, and in Der Freund und der Fremde he finally writes about Benno Ohnesorg. In these texts, he does not simply remember his friends and brother; he finds a narrative strategy that makes their past come to life, while also working through problematic aspects of their lives. He acts as biographer who gives voice to deceased friends and relatives, but also comments on their lives. In hindsight, he describes his approach as follows: Der Beerdigungsredner ist einem literarischen Erzähler vergleichbar. Er erzählt von der Vergangenheit, die er im Erzählen wieder in die Gegenwart holt. Auf eine eigentümliche Weise deutet er die Einzelschicksale aus, versucht im Leben der Verstorbenen einen Sinn zu finden, ohne einen göttlichen Sinn zu bemühen. Es gibt keine Transzendenz, nur dieses gelebte Leben. In Rot hat Thomas Linde alle Freiheit der Deutung über das gelebte Leben, er kann sogar retuschieren, schönen oder lügen - was er sich vorgenommen hat, nicht zu tun. Es ist eine Form der Hermeneutik, die da stattfindet. (Williams 13) When, in 2003, Timm published Am Beispiel meines Bruders, he adopted the persona of the funeral orator. The narrator’s approach consists of quotes from his brother’s diary, descriptions of family pictures, excerpts from historical documents, personalized comments and reflections, and imagined scenes from the brother’s life. In addition, he realizes how his brother’s life and early death impacted his parents, his older sister and himself. Thus, he Presenting a Moment of the Past 399 provides biographies of each family member, turning the text into a family history. The role of funeral narrator also enabled him to write about Benno Ohnesorg. His use of sprechende Situationen allowed him to revitalize his own private memories of Benno Ohnesorg, but he also recounts and comments on a wider array of scenes from his friend’s life. For instance, we see Ohnesorg as follows: Unsere Freundschaft begann als Gespräch über Literatur. […] Neben ihm stehend und über die Oker blickend, dehnte sich das Schweigen und gab dem Gefühl, ihn gestört zu haben, immer mehr Raum, und so fragte ich ihn, um überhaupt etwas zu sagen, was er denn da mache. Nach einem kurzen Zögern zeigte er mir das kleine Notizbuch. Ich schreibe. Und was? Für mich. (8-9) In Der Freund und der Fremde, we encounter Ohnesorg not as icon - in the sense of the dying student we remember from the photograph - but rather as somebody being passionate about reading and writing. We even hear his voice, since Timm inserted some of his friend’s letters and one of his poems in Der Freund und der Fremde. Similarly to his earlier novels, Timm creates in Der Freund und der Fremde closeness and distance at the same time. As a poet, he brings backs moments from Ohnesorg’s life in the sense of «presentification,» yet he also shares unknown stories and information about Ohnesorg. He recounts conversations with friends and family about his life in Berlin, and he quotes from official documents. Thus, while Timm’s biographical narrative is certainly constructed through the historical lens, it is a story that engages the reader and brings us closer to Benno Ohnesorg as a person. Timm’s narratives, and in particular Der Freund und der Fremde demonstrate how a story can create a certain Stimmung that speaks to their readers. Timm’s sprechende Situationen bring about the effects Gumbrecht describes in Atmosphere, Mood, Stimmung. They show the potential of literature to evoke the past, but also to shape and impact experiences in the present. Notes 1 Timm uses the original spelling Schröder in the first edition of Der Mann auf dem Hochrad, yet he changed the spelling to Schröter in later editions. 400 Antje Krueger Works Cited Aristoteles. Poetik: Griechisch/ Deutsch. Ed. Manfred Fuhrmann. Stuttgart: Reclam, 1982. Elie, Paul. Reinventing Bach. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2012. Gumbrecht, Hans U. Atmosphere, Mood, Stimmung: On a Hidden Potential of Literature. Trans. Erik Butler. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2012. Hamann, Christof. «Einfühlungsästhetik wäre ein kolonialer Akt. Ein Gespräch mit Uwe Timm.» Sprache im technischen Zeitalter 168 (2003): 450-62. Lorenz, Markus. Subversiver Meistersang: Eine Studie zum Werk Uwe Timms. Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2012. Timm, Uwe. Erzählen und kein Ende. Versuche zu einer Ästhetik des Alltags. Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1993. -. «Die Stimme beim Schreiben.» Uwe Timm Lesebuch: Die Stimme beim Schreiben. Ed. Martin Hielscher. Munich: dtv, 2005. 399-405. -. Der Freund und der Fremde: Eine Erzählung. Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 2005. -. Der Mann auf dem Hochrad: Legende. Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1984. -. Heisser Sommer: Roman. Munich/ Gütersloh: Autorenedition, 1974. -. Vogel, friss die Feige nicht. Römische Aufzeichnungen. Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1989. Wellberry, David. «Stimmung.» Historisches Wörterbuch ästhetischer Grundbegriffe. Ed. Karlheinz Barck et al. Vol. 5. Stuttgart/ Weimar: Metzler, 2003. 703-33. Williams, Rhys W. «Selbstdeutung und Selbstfindung. Gespräch mit Uwe Timm.» Uwe Timm II. Ed. David Basker and Rhys Williams. Cardiff: Wales UP, 2007. 12-26. Wolf, Wilhelm. Fahrrad und Radfahrer. Leipzig: Otto Spamer, 1890.