Tilman Rammstedt – Morgen mehr

When Tilman Rammstedt writes a novel, it creates “a monkey circus, a declaration of love to the imagination.” (Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung)

Early 1972: The whole life still lies before the narrator. He sees it all before him, he looks forward to it. The problem is, he hasn’t been born yet. To be precise, he hasn’t even been conceived, his future parents don’t know anything about each other yet, and both have completely different worries at the moment: his mother is about to fall for a melancholy Southern Frenchman, while his father is being thrown into the Main River with his feet embedded in concrete. How the narrator succeeds in bringing the two together in heartbreakingly funny, breathlessly sad adventures is the greatest taletelling firework. When Tilman Rammstedt writes a novel, we see “suddenly, tears laughing, behind the mad facade a deep truth” (F.A.Z.).