An interview with German writer Lisa-Marie Reuter regarding the publication of her prize-winning short story "The Death of a Goddess." ["Tod einer Göttin" is the title in German.
The author, 30, was born in 1987 in Germany and still lives there where she works at a book publishing company. This interview was conducted in early December by email. For readers who cannot read the original story in German, below you will find a Google Machine translation, informal and unofficial, just to give you a feeling for the story arc in English.
DAN BLOOM: Did you write this story before the Fischer-Tor ''cli-fi'' short story contest was announced earlier this year or was it already in your files? Or did you write it directly for the TOR contest?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: The story was written about one year prior to the contest but remained unpublished at first. It came back to my mind when I saw an ad for the cli-fi-contest online and I submitted it right away.
DANBLOOM: When did you visit India, this year or last year or in 2014 or when? And did you visit India as a tourist just to visit or were you doing research for a possible short story or novel at the same time?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: I've visited India seven times so far since 2009 and travelled there quite a lot. I majored in Indian Studies at university, so I’m also familiar with India’s academic sphere and did some research there for academic purposes. Over the years I became friends with Indians in and out of universities and wish I could see them more often.
DAN BLOOM: When does your story take place? In the near future? Such as 2080? Or in the distant future, such as 2300 A.D.? Or do you prefer not to tell readers in the story when it is taking place and let the readers guess the time frame? In your own mind, when you wrote the story, what was the general time frame you were thinking of?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: There’s a small hint within the story regarding the time frame, and I’d rather leave it to the readers to discover it and draw their own conclusions.
DANBLOOM: Climate fiction stories and novels and movies are gaining in popularity now worldwide, and in Germany, too. Are there many literary critics using the term "climate fiction" or its short nickname of "cli-fi" in newspaper or magazine articles or reviews of cli-fi novels? And does the German media use the English terms for climate fiction and cli-fi or do they use a German term such as ''klimawandelfiktion'' (please teach me how to say "climate fiction" in German).
LISA-MARIE REUTER: Personally, I had not heard the term before I came across the Tor-Online contest, but I guess that people who are more involved in the sci-fi scene than I am might be familiar with it. I think the genre is referred to as “climate fiction” in Germany too, since it corresponds to the term “science fiction”, which is widely used here. It’s actually hard to think of a German term which would be as catchy as “cli-fi”.
DAN BLOOM: Do you think cli-fi novels and stories and movies will become more popular in Germany in the next 10 to 20 years? Or is the German public not interested in cli-fi stories?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: I think there definitely is a general interest for climate related topics in Germany, since environmental awareness has been quite large here for some decades and sustainable power supply is a big issue in politics these days. Cli-fi is still a very small segment within the literary world but I could well imagine that it might grow over the next few years.
DAN BLOOM: In your story, who is Yusuf? An Indian? Or if not Indian, from what nation does he come from?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: He is a native of Varanasi, so, definitely Indian.
DAN BLOOM: Why did you set your story in India ? is there something special about India and the Ganges River and climate change worries that inspired you to set the story there?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: I chose India as a setting mainly because even nowadays it is much more affected by climate change than my own home region in central Europe. During the past several years droughts and floods have affected millions of people there. Also, I’ve simply fallen in love with India’s majestic rivers, be it Ganga, Yamuna, or most recently the breathtakingly broad Brahmaputra in Assam.
DAN BLOOM: Will your story be translated in the future into French, Italian, Spanish, Hindi, or English, perhaps?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: There are no such plans at the moment, at least as far as I am aware. Let’s see what the future brings.
DAN BLOOM: You are 30 years old. Regarding global warming and the future of humankind, are you an optimist or a pessimist or a realist or a prophet? Can you explain?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: I have to admit that I am a pessimist by nature. I try to be as realistic as possible, though, and secretly always hope for the best. I am actually less worried about humankind than about all the other magnificent but less adaptable species we share this planet with.
DANBLOOM: Will you turn your short story into a novel one day in the future?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: Most likely not this story, but I might come up with some other ideas for a proper cli-fi-novel one of these days.
DANBLOOM: You work for a publishing company in Germany. What is your job there? Editor? Marketing? PR? Sales?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: I work there as a trainee, so I basically do a little bit of everything, except editing.
DAN BLOOM: When did you first hear or see or the term "cli-fi" in print in English? What year? In a German newspaper or website or in an overseas website?
LISA-MARIE REUTER: About 4 months ago, in an online advertisement for Tor-Online’s cli-fi-contest. Me winning the contest therefore feels kind of ironic.
===================================================
READERS AROUND THE WORLD! Welcome to some global news about cli-fi fiction, which mainly deals with the effects of climate change. The Fischer publishing house recently sponsored a cli-fi short story contest, with the judges looking for the best story (in the German language) around the issue of climate change and its impact.
The author who won is Lisa Marie Reuter, whose published short story can be read here.
https://www.tor-online.de/fiction/2017/11/tod-einer-goettin-lisa-marie-reuter/
Her personal website is here.
http://lisamariereuter.de/
From the FISCHER-TOR website in German:
Ein Aspekt in der Fantasy ist dabei die sogenannte Climate Fiction, die sich vor allem mit den Auswirkungen des Klimawandels befasst. Erst kürzlich rief der FISCHER Tor Verlag zu einem Kurzgeschichtenwettbewerb auf, bei dem die beste Geschichte rund um das Thema Klimawandel und dessen Auswirkungen gekürt wurde. Gewonnen hat die Autorin Lisa-Marie Reuter, deren tolle Kurzgeschichte hier nachgelesen werden kann. Ich selbst wollte bei diesem interessanten Thema natürlich auch mitmischen und wenngleich es meine Geschichte nicht auf Platz 1 geschafft hat, so findet sie sich dennoch gemeinsam mit anderen ambitionierten Autorinnen und Autoren in der Anthologie „Der Schnee von morgen“, herausgegeben von Peggy Weber-Gehrke, wieder. Das eBook wird im Januar veröffentlicht und ich freue mich sehr, das erste Mal bei einem solch tollen Projekt dabei sein zu dürfen. Wer sich für dieses Thema und fantastische Literatur im Allgemeinen interessiert, der sollte sich den 28. Januar 2018 schon einmal vormerken und in das eBook reinschnuppern! Veröffentlicht wird das Buch vom Verlag für Moderne Phantastik Gehrke.
I myself wanted to get involved in this interesting topic, of course, and although it is my story has managed not to slot 1, so she finds herself still together with other ambitious authors and authors in the anthology "The snow of tomorrow", edited by Peggy Weber Gehrke, again. The eBook is published in January and I am very happy that, for the first time with such a fantastic project. For those who are interested in this topic and fantastic literature in general, should be 28. January 2018 add and already in the eBook to try it! The book is published by the publishing house for modern fantasy gehrke.
Dass Fantasy oftmals ein bewährtes Mittel ist, auf gesellschaftliche Probleme, aktuelle politische Themen oder gängige soziokulturelle Muster hinzuweisen, dürfte weithin bekannt sein. So versteckt die Anspielungen auch oft sind, in den meisten Fällen ist eine fantastische Geschichte nur auf den ersten Blick ein profaner Plot mit Elfen, Feen und Zauberern. Zwischen den Zeilen verbergen sich Themen, die uns auch in unserer eigenen Realität beschäftigen.
Ein Aspekt in der Fantasy ist dabei die sogenannte Climate Fiction, die sich vor allem mit den Auswirkungen des Klimawandels befasst. Erst kürzlich rief der FISCHER Tor Verlag zu einem Kurzgeschichtenwettbewerb auf, bei dem die beste Geschichte rund um das Thema Klimawandel und dessen Auswirkungen gekürt wurde. Gewonnen hat die Autorin Lisa-Marie Reuter, deren tolle Kurzgeschichte hier nachgelesen werden kann. Ich selbst wollte bei diesem interessanten Thema natürlich auch mitmischen und wenngleich es meine Geschichte nicht auf Platz 1 geschafft hat, so findet sie sich dennoch gemeinsam mit anderen ambitionierten Autorinnen und Autoren in der Anthologie „Der Schnee von morgen“, herausgegeben von Peggy Weber-Gehrke, wieder. Das eBook wird im Januar veröffentlicht und ich freue mich sehr, das erste Mal bei einem solch tollen Projekt dabei sein zu dürfen. Wer sich für dieses Thema und fantastische Literatur im Allgemeinen interessiert, der sollte sich den 28. Januar 2018 schon einmal vormerken und in das eBook reinschnuppern! Veröffentlicht wird das Buch vom Verlag für Moderne Phantastik Gehrke.
Tod einer Göttin -- Death of a Goddess (by Lisa-Marie Reuter)
Varanasi, die heiligste Stadt Indiens. Vom Ganges ist nur noch ein trübes Rinnsal übrig. Seine Namensvetterin und Erzählerin dieser Geschichte, Ganga, hat gerade ihren neuen Job bei der Mordkommission angetreten, als plötzlich im größten Hindu-Tempel ein Gläubiger Amok läuft. Und Ganga wird in die politischen Ränke der Jahrtausende alten Stadt verstrickt …
»Tod einer Göttin« ist die Sieger-Story des ersten TOR ONLINE-Kurzgeschichtenwettbewerbs, für den unter dem Titel »Der Schnee von morgen« ein innovativer Beitrag zur Climate Fiction gesucht war. INFORMAL GOOGLE MACHINE TRANSLATION -- Varanasi, the holiest city in India. From the Ganges is still just a murky trickle left. His name Svet trumpeter and narrator of this story, Ganga has just completed her new job in the homicide squad, when all of a sudden in the largest Hindu Temple a believer is running amok. And Ganga in the political intrigues of the thousand-year-old city mats …
"death of a goddess" is the winner of the first Online Short Story Competition, for the under the title "The snow of tomorrow," an innovative contribution to climate fiction was searched.
***
BRIEF INFORMAL EXCERPT IN ENGLISH VIA GOOGLE MACHINE::
VIA
COPYRIGHT (2017) Lisa-Marie Reuter
»Tod einer Göttin« ist die Sieger-Story des ersten TOR ONLINE-Kurzgeschichtenwettbewerbs, für den unter dem Titel »Der Schnee von morgen« ein innovativer Beitrag zur Climate Fiction gesucht war. INFORMAL GOOGLE MACHINE TRANSLATION -- Varanasi, the holiest city in India. From the Ganges is still just a murky trickle left. His name Svet trumpeter and narrator of this story, Ganga has just completed her new job in the homicide squad, when all of a sudden in the largest Hindu Temple a believer is running amok. And Ganga in the political intrigues of the thousand-year-old city mats …
"death of a goddess" is the winner of the first Online Short Story Competition, for the under the title "The snow of tomorrow," an innovative contribution to climate fiction was searched.
***
BRIEF INFORMAL EXCERPT IN ENGLISH VIA GOOGLE MACHINE::
VIA
COPYRIGHT (2017) Lisa-Marie Reuter
FIRST SENTENCE: »Die Hunde sind nervös heute«, [''THE DOGS ARE NERVOUS TODAY''] sagte Yusuf, als er sich neben mich auf die Steinstufen setzte.
"The dogs are nervous today," said Yusuf, as he sat down next to me on the stone steps.
I unleashed my view from the gentle curve of the ghats, which is in the direction of the north-east. The brick bathing places were for centuries as a symbol of Varanasi. Three kilometers of abandoned palaces and temples, ancient stairs and smoking combustion. Sluggish bell ringing and the scent of sandalwood. In the background, the glittering skyline of New-Kashi. The Sunrise was reflected on the glass fronts of the banks and office towers, shopping malls and luxury high-rise buildings, as he once had mirrored on the waters of the Ganges at our feet. Now the river was only a trickle of a few tens of meters in diameter. Who from the steps down to the water had a stone's throw of dirty sand.
I squinted his eyes and shielded my face with his hand against the sun. A crowd on the shores balgte durrer stray dog. A bitch with hanging sucked back her boys, other dogs stood with the front-runs in the river and drank wine the oily water.
Yusuf looked at the animals, then to the sky. "Perhaps the monsoon still on time. You feel something like that."
I stifled a yawn and tapped on my i-live around. Since Apple had swallowed the Tata Group, the "i" for "India".
"No Chance, Uncle Yusuf. The predictions are clear. Definitely no rain in the next two weeks."
"Well, if your miracle box that says girl," sighed the old man and began to node the bags that he had brought with him. The rustle of thin plastic, the dogs on the ears. A few of them came closer.
"Were not here for a long time, Ganga," he continued, as he tugged and dry chapatis in pieces in a bowl of cold lentil soup single density. "Thought you wanted your big sister no longer see again, before it comes to an end with her."
Again I picked up the view to the river, whose name I wore. In fact, it was a shock, the once so powerful Ganga - a goddess on earth, if you wanted to the Hindus believe - in its current state. The unspoken hung between Yusuf and i know that this is perhaps your last summer in the holy city. In Patna, almost 300 kilometers down the river, dried up completely during the hot months you have been around for years. India, this greedy giant, had his thousand-year-old lifeline sucked almost empty.
I had guessed that it was flowing around my sister so bad, I would have perhaps previously returned to Varanasi, the city where I was born and grew up; had not waited until me Delhi, this brutal, glowing steadily proliferating juggernaut, finally joined by itself. Eight years I had tried to brute force to the outbreaks, the ostentation of obscene cruelty to get used to it, in the capital city of the day-to-day business. I had my job there, in the conviction that the living conditions in the largest city in the world for the better. A few weeks ago, I had admitted my mistake and was head over heels fled.
The dogs had detected Yusuf and intentions expressed themselves around our feet winselnd. I looked at her protruding ribs, your raudiges coat, the bleeding points behind the ears. The animals had only eyes for Yusuf, their Messiah.
"I wasn't sure whether I would meet you here," I admitted to. "You risk getting a lot since the disease..."
SECOND EXCERPT:
On a world level sought feverishly about the origin of the epidemic. The seeds were examined and classified according to their mode of the gene isolated, the lethal mutation. Would you be prepared next year. You created a list of pollutants, the growth of the single-celled organisms called, and pursuing the toxic substances back to their origins. Factory owners, always with bribes can steal from the responsibility, would be hard to account.
The GHATS were in this weeks as extinct. The inhabitants of their goddess Vara asis remained remote. For centuries, the river water, garbage and poison swallowed his patient in the service of dams and nuclear power plants, and the sins washed away by the faithful. Now it seemed the people, as if it had been destroyed him, the venerable and wanted to remember their wickedness, shortly before his death.
On the Bureau would have been the case quickly to the file. The homicide was not responsible, temple gate had proved as wrong track.
The day after the funeral of Yusuf, i went to the river. I used my identity card, in order to get behind the barriers, and stomped over the glowing sand to the shore. There Ganga-Jal pureTM i pulled the bottle out of his pocket and let the synthetic content seep into the ground. I bent down and filled the bottle with water and screwed the lid back to real gear.
I complaint against Mahesh Trivedi and was not surprised that my superiors returned the thing under the carpet. I accepted the silence, the man offered me money, and pulled out the accusations.
Arnav went out of my way. After all, I was there, in the canteen at his table.
"I have canceled."
"It is … what a pity, Ganga. As it is now for you?"
"I don't know yet. Once out of the city. If you come back from the holiday, I'm already gone."
an escape. You will be good at it, girl.
Arnav swallowed. "When I asked you, whether … So, you can still come."
I laughed mirthlessly. "Seriously, arnav?"
"I like you, Ganga. As a friend. Even if you think…"
"Thou hast made me run into the knife. You knew what Trivedi was doing."
"I also knew that he would do you no harm. He wanted to intimidate you, just as he did with all power. Show you who is in charge. After he had let it be good grope."
"I see."
"No, you don't understand, Ganga." Arnavs cheeks reddened. "What Mahesh Trivedi says is law. He has here, all in the palm of your hand. I'm sorry that I couldn't help but you're not the only one who so what happened."
I nodded and stood up. "Nice holiday, arnav."
The next day I went to the Vishwanath temple and left me again in triv edis office. Also today I had to wait. I had hoped. I pulled the stolen glass bottle out of his pocket and presented them to the other on the desk.
Trivedi greeted me with balanced expression. "You wanted to speak to me, Miss Ganga?"
"I am here to apologize, Pandit-ji. It was not for me, without clear evidence to suspect. I pulled my consequences as a result of the matter and will leave the police service."
The priest smiled thinly. "This is a very decent of you, Miss Ganga. Then we can so our resentment
buried buried?" "is the right word, Pandit-ji," I replied.
© 2017 by Lisa-Marie Reuter
Alle Rechte vorbehalten
Die nächste Story erwartet Dich am Freitag, den 8. Dezember, genau hier.
"The dogs are nervous today," said Yusuf, as he sat down next to me on the stone steps.
I unleashed my view from the gentle curve of the ghats, which is in the direction of the north-east. The brick bathing places were for centuries as a symbol of Varanasi. Three kilometers of abandoned palaces and temples, ancient stairs and smoking combustion. Sluggish bell ringing and the scent of sandalwood. In the background, the glittering skyline of New-Kashi. The Sunrise was reflected on the glass fronts of the banks and office towers, shopping malls and luxury high-rise buildings, as he once had mirrored on the waters of the Ganges at our feet. Now the river was only a trickle of a few tens of meters in diameter. Who from the steps down to the water had a stone's throw of dirty sand.
I squinted his eyes and shielded my face with his hand against the sun. A crowd on the shores balgte durrer stray dog. A bitch with hanging sucked back her boys, other dogs stood with the front-runs in the river and drank wine the oily water.
Yusuf looked at the animals, then to the sky. "Perhaps the monsoon still on time. You feel something like that."
I stifled a yawn and tapped on my i-live around. Since Apple had swallowed the Tata Group, the "i" for "India".
"No Chance, Uncle Yusuf. The predictions are clear. Definitely no rain in the next two weeks."
"Well, if your miracle box that says girl," sighed the old man and began to node the bags that he had brought with him. The rustle of thin plastic, the dogs on the ears. A few of them came closer.
"Were not here for a long time, Ganga," he continued, as he tugged and dry chapatis in pieces in a bowl of cold lentil soup single density. "Thought you wanted your big sister no longer see again, before it comes to an end with her."
Again I picked up the view to the river, whose name I wore. In fact, it was a shock, the once so powerful Ganga - a goddess on earth, if you wanted to the Hindus believe - in its current state. The unspoken hung between Yusuf and i know that this is perhaps your last summer in the holy city. In Patna, almost 300 kilometers down the river, dried up completely during the hot months you have been around for years. India, this greedy giant, had his thousand-year-old lifeline sucked almost empty.
I had guessed that it was flowing around my sister so bad, I would have perhaps previously returned to Varanasi, the city where I was born and grew up; had not waited until me Delhi, this brutal, glowing steadily proliferating juggernaut, finally joined by itself. Eight years I had tried to brute force to the outbreaks, the ostentation of obscene cruelty to get used to it, in the capital city of the day-to-day business. I had my job there, in the conviction that the living conditions in the largest city in the world for the better. A few weeks ago, I had admitted my mistake and was head over heels fled.
The dogs had detected Yusuf and intentions expressed themselves around our feet winselnd. I looked at her protruding ribs, your raudiges coat, the bleeding points behind the ears. The animals had only eyes for Yusuf, their Messiah.
"I wasn't sure whether I would meet you here," I admitted to. "You risk getting a lot since the disease..."
SECOND EXCERPT:
On a world level sought feverishly about the origin of the epidemic. The seeds were examined and classified according to their mode of the gene isolated, the lethal mutation. Would you be prepared next year. You created a list of pollutants, the growth of the single-celled organisms called, and pursuing the toxic substances back to their origins. Factory owners, always with bribes can steal from the responsibility, would be hard to account.
The GHATS were in this weeks as extinct. The inhabitants of their goddess Vara asis remained remote. For centuries, the river water, garbage and poison swallowed his patient in the service of dams and nuclear power plants, and the sins washed away by the faithful. Now it seemed the people, as if it had been destroyed him, the venerable and wanted to remember their wickedness, shortly before his death.
On the Bureau would have been the case quickly to the file. The homicide was not responsible, temple gate had proved as wrong track.
The day after the funeral of Yusuf, i went to the river. I used my identity card, in order to get behind the barriers, and stomped over the glowing sand to the shore. There Ganga-Jal pureTM i pulled the bottle out of his pocket and let the synthetic content seep into the ground. I bent down and filled the bottle with water and screwed the lid back to real gear.
I complaint against Mahesh Trivedi and was not surprised that my superiors returned the thing under the carpet. I accepted the silence, the man offered me money, and pulled out the accusations.
Arnav went out of my way. After all, I was there, in the canteen at his table.
"I have canceled."
"It is … what a pity, Ganga. As it is now for you?"
"I don't know yet. Once out of the city. If you come back from the holiday, I'm already gone."
an escape. You will be good at it, girl.
Arnav swallowed. "When I asked you, whether … So, you can still come."
I laughed mirthlessly. "Seriously, arnav?"
"I like you, Ganga. As a friend. Even if you think…"
"Thou hast made me run into the knife. You knew what Trivedi was doing."
"I also knew that he would do you no harm. He wanted to intimidate you, just as he did with all power. Show you who is in charge. After he had let it be good grope."
"I see."
"No, you don't understand, Ganga." Arnavs cheeks reddened. "What Mahesh Trivedi says is law. He has here, all in the palm of your hand. I'm sorry that I couldn't help but you're not the only one who so what happened."
I nodded and stood up. "Nice holiday, arnav."
The next day I went to the Vishwanath temple and left me again in triv edis office. Also today I had to wait. I had hoped. I pulled the stolen glass bottle out of his pocket and presented them to the other on the desk.
Trivedi greeted me with balanced expression. "You wanted to speak to me, Miss Ganga?"
"I am here to apologize, Pandit-ji. It was not for me, without clear evidence to suspect. I pulled my consequences as a result of the matter and will leave the police service."
The priest smiled thinly. "This is a very decent of you, Miss Ganga. Then we can so our resentment
buried buried?" "is the right word, Pandit-ji," I replied.
© 2017 by Lisa-Marie Reuter
Alle Rechte vorbehalten
Die nächste Story erwartet Dich am Freitag, den 8. Dezember, genau hier.
Über die Autorin / ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The author was born in 1987 in Germany and still lives there.
Lisa-Marie Reuter wurde 1987 geboren und schreibt seit ihrer Schulzeit Fantasygeschichten. Ihren ersten Roman »Die Herrschaft der Xarquen« brachte sie Anfang 2016 im Selbstverlag heraus und veröffentlichte seitdem weitere Kurzgeschichten im Rahmen verschiedener Anthologie-Projekte. Während ihres Indologie-Studiums lernte sie den unbeschreiblichen indischen Subkontinent auf mehreren ausgedehnten Reisen kennen und lieben. Varanasi, Schauplatz der vorliegenden Erzählung, hat sie bisher drei Mal besucht und war dabei stets überwältigt von der Dynamik, mit der verschiedenste Lebenswelten an diesem Ort koexistieren.
www.lisamariereuter.de
www.paerlonien.com
www.lisamariereuter.de
www.paerlonien.com
3 comments:
Vor einiger Zeit startete Fischer Tor einen Kurzgeschichtenwettbewerb zum Thema Climate Fiction. Für mich war das ein ganz und gar neuer Begriff. Aus der Beschreibung erfuhr ich, dass es in der Cli-Fi um fiktionale Zukunftsszenarien geht, in denen der Klimawandel eine zentrale Rolle spielt. Pärlonien schied damit als Handlungsort aus. Zum Glück gibt es noch ein zweites Land, in dem ich mich häufig und gern aufhalte, und das mir als Setting geradezu prädestiniert schien.
Vor einiger Zeit startete Fischer Tor einen Kurzgeschichtenwettbewerb zum Thema Climate Fiction. Für mich war das ein ganz und gar neuer Begriff. Aus der Beschreibung erfuhr ich, dass es in der Cli-Fi um fiktionale Zukunftsszenarien geht, in denen der Klimawandel eine zentrale Rolle spielt. Pärlonien schied damit als Handlungsort aus. Zum Glück gibt es noch ein zweites Land, in dem ich mich häufig und gern aufhalte, und das mir als Setting geradezu prädestiniert schien.
http://cli-fi-books.blogspot.tw/2017/12/lisa-marie-reuter-in-germany-wins-tor.html - Lisa Marie Reuter in Germany wins TOR books cli-fi short story contest: Link to her story here: Dass Fantasy oftmals ein bewährtes Mittel ist, auf gesellschaftliche Probleme, aktuelle politische Themen oder gängige soziokulturelle Muster hinzuweisen, dürfte weithin bekannt sein.
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