A young writer sets out to spit in the face of »crippling German idiocy.« He returns with a major work on rekindled feelings for the »Fatherland«, Nazis, who »brake for animals«, and his own upbringing in this strange country. If Heinrich Heine wrote Germany, a Winter’s Tale today, it might sound like Pascal Richmann’s text.
Pascal Richmann dances with hundreds of student fraternity members, visits the Walhalla after midnight, and knocks back schnapps in a bar owned by the far-right NPD party’s ex-boss in Mallorca. Whenever he questions his interviewees about their impressions of Germany, he comes across delusions. This debut is bursting with absurd observations, astonishing encounters and unexpected associations. It tells the story of a nation torn apart, which would difficult to comprehend without a mission like his. In the tradition of greats such as Hunter S. Thompson or Marie-Luise Scherer, Richmann invents his very own genre of literature – a mixture of essay, story and reportage that may well coin the term »Richmannesque«.