Karl-Markus Gauß casts his net wide. He writes of the Iraq War and the illusions of his relatives who emigrated from the Wojwodina to America; he reports on the profitability of sperm banks and ruminates on age-old human issues; he follows the tracks of his father, the »great figurehead of failure in my life«; his reflections on the books of famous, forgotten or little-known authors invariably turn into existential self-examination.
Gauß has received much praise for his virtuoso and frequently surprising intertwining of world history and private affairs, literature and life, the seemingly remote and the ostensibly proximate, as demonstrated in his previous journals Mit mir, ohne mich and Von nah, von fern. He discovers hidden connections and, time and again, sings the praises of everyday living and fragile happiness in a world whose hidden injustices he is the first to uncover. Many literary genres are at the disposal of this writer who has created an independent genre that abolishes literary boundaries.
"Gentle or polemic, precise or digressive, poetic or discursive: Gauß is, to our great delight, all these things at once." (Ulrich Weinzierl, Die Welt)