By Dörte Hansen
Zwei Frauen, ein altes Haus und eine artwork von Familie
Das „Polackenkind“ ist die fünfjährige Vera auf dem Hof im Alten Land, wohin sie 1945 aus Ostpreußen mit ihrer Mutter geflohen ist. Ihr Leben lang fühlt sie sich fremd in dem großen, kalten Bauernhaus und kann trotzdem nicht davon lassen. Bis sechzig Jahre später plötzlich ihre Nichte Anne vor der Tür steht. Sie ist mit ihrem kleinen Sohn aus Hamburg-Ottensen geflüchtet, wo ehrgeizige Vollwert-Eltern ihre Kinder wie Preispokale durch die Straßen tragen – und wo Annes Mann eine Andere liebt. Vera und Anne sind einander fremd und haben doch viel mehr gemeinsam, als sie ahnen.
Mit scharfem Blick und trockenem Witz erzählt Dörte Hansen von zwei Einzelgängerinnen, die überraschend finden, used to be sie nie gesucht haben: eine Familie.
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Additional info for Altes Land: Roman
He thinks I should knock some heads together if I’m really So convinced everyone is such a motherFucker. I see what they mean, Hopler— one really does get tired of you. He wants to know how often I’ve been mistaken for a shrub. The Angel says if you beat someone long enough and hard enough, They will learn to love you for it.  That’s mighty big talk, isn’t it, Hopler—coming from a man who lives with his mother? Hopler, I’ve had it with all your crying and complaining. If I wanted to hear whining, I’d kick a dog.
Should I fill it with my own gold teeth? I have a blue vase but no flowers. I have no flowers. My neighbor has them all.  L I K E T H E S TA R E O F S O M E G L A S S - E Y E D G O D If we are not busy fixing what we have broken, we are busy breaking What, someday, we will need to fix. As for that which cannot be broken— As for that for which there is no fix— I wish we were patches Of that miraculous afternoon light: Bright. Unbroken. Fixed On the grass— Imagine! Being fixed on the grass. How sad .
To live in the midst of the physical, the visceral, Untroubled by the crush Of want—  6 We Cannot Love the World as It Is We cannot love the world as it is, Because the world, as it is, is impossible to love. We have only to lust for it— To lust for each other in it— And, somehow, to make that suffice.  7 Revisited No, somehow to make that sacrifice.  8 The Goddess of the Parking Lot Maybe it was Ceres I saw that day, Moving across that parking lot in breeze-blown blooms of red, flocked, cloth and not just some woman who was A credit to her dress.
Altes Land: Roman by Dörte Hansen