Meine armen Lieblinge

This book contains many difficult feelings and fears. There are also many complicated sentences and rough words that I simply do not understand. Sometimes I feel comforted or gently touched, but more often I feel tired, perplexed, and angry, as if I were ordered but not picked up. Then I stand wet and cold in the rain; is that good? Men talk about their wives, women talk about their husbands, and Birgit Kempker writes about the rituals that accompany this talking. The wounds that are shown are as large as those inflicted, and the honesty of the speech balances with tactical intelligence. But of course, Birgit Kempker does not write clever prose of concern; psychological findings are just one of several game elements in her highly reflective, alert, and open writing. She not only switches jargons at breathtaking speed but also perspectives of men and women ("I am more complex than my reputation," says the man in one story), and the setting of the writing process is always: sexuality. Whether it’s love madness or jealousy, humiliation or triumph – in all the stories, the text hallucinates its way towards those addressed, who are either called "my husband," "my wife," "my girlfriend," or "my mother." With an incredibly sophisticated mix of confidence and nonchalance, Birgit Kempker hits the heart of the reality of our sexual relationships. Whether she speaks decently or indecently, whether she associates or constructs, whether she starts with the self or in the dense web of relationships – what drives us towards each other and then away again is both pleasurable and painful. There is no fun alone. And the same applies to talking about it: literature alone does not exist (with Birgit Kempker) either.