Ingo Schulze - New Lives

Did you read the article about the Lindenau Museum in our next-to-last issue? Nicoletta is behind all those plans. What’s more, she has her heart set on reconstructing Guido de Siena’s altar at the Lindenau — she’s already been to Eindhoven, where one panel is — the others are at the Louvre, in Princeton, and of course in Siena. The Dutch have evidently already agreed — a reconstruction would be a sensation! 326

As soon as my apartment is ready to be moved into, Vera is coming to Altenburg for a few weeks or months.

She has separated from Nicola, or he from her, which she would never admit — Vera’s vanity, her feminine vanity, is too easily wounded for that. Which makes it so difficult for me to console her. But she still can look very chic. No one would believe she lives out of two suitcases. Beirut turned out to be a bit too much of an adventure for her. Nicola’s mother’s constant chatter about kidnappings left her terribly anxious, the power keeps going out, generators make a deafening racket and pollute the air. There’s no such thing as a “green” movement there. The sea is a sewer, and cars speed through the streets at sixty miles per hour, brake hard, then speed away again — for fear of snipers. Compared to West Beirut, West Berlin is as expansive as a prairie. The only thing that worked to her advantage was that she was baptized. That’s accepted. But please, no atheism!

Nicola thinks he’s about to make some big money. His oracle is a glazier: if people are buying window glass, there’s hope for peace. So people are sure to buy up everything he has in stock.

She definitely doesn’t want to go back to Dresden, and she no longer has a job in Berlin — in her beautiful West Berlin. She’s giving up her apartment and closing out Nicola’s shop, dumping everything at a loss. And if her luck runs out she may even end up with debts to pay. So you’ll be seeing each other here.

Give yourself and Franziska a couple of weeks to get acclimatized. As far as the business goes, the baron takes a very down-to-earth view of things. Don’t let it bother you. I’ve already written you about my first meeting with him. Pringel and Frau Schorba have no reservations whatever, and as far as our élèves 327 are concerned, you’re a celebrity already. They’ll probably fight over who gets to initiate you in the arcana of layout. Jörg is jealous of you because of the book. He and Marion really didn’t expect to see someone like you at my side.

Anton Larschen, who was on the verge of turning into an evil spirit, is back to extracting fine items from his backpack. Your suggested changes are “correct from start to finish.” Frau Schorba will be typing the text into the computer this weekend.

Let me worry about the business end of things. Time is on our side. We’ll pay for your driving classes, and you no longer need to get on a waiting list. Come autumn, then, you’ll be driving the LeBaron.

You’ll be able to move into your new place by September at the latest, since the construction firm has to shell out for every day of overrun past August 31st — it’s in the contract. The rent will be modest. Did I tell you that the plans are not just for a snazzy tub in the bathroom, but a real small-size whirlpool?

Just picture a late-summer afternoon, the scent of apples drifting up from below, everything up top smells a little new yet, the castle rises up before you, behind it hills and, in the distance, mountains. You’ll have enough money, no worries about the future, and each of us can peacefully pursue whatever he wants. And next year we’ll all go to Italy or fly to the U.S. for lobster.

Give Franziska a kiss for me,

Your Enrico

Tuesday, June 19, ’90

Dear Jo,

I’ve thrown myself into work — I really don’t have a choice, either. The situation is sorting itself out faster than I would have thought possible. Hardly a week has passed and already our newspaper is taking shape in the midst of all the mayhem.

And we are undergoing a transformation too. Whether it’s Frau Schorba or her husband, who’s our distribution manager, or Evi and Mona, our élèves at the computer, even our bruised Pringel — we all are not just working faster and more focused, downright impatient to tackle each new task, but we’re also more cordial and open — we have nothing to hide, nothing to lose! This is what the daily routine should always look like. Yes, this is how things should stay.

Officially Herr Schorba is still working for Wismut. But he’s been put on leave and is just waiting for termination papers and a final settlement. As a mining engineer he’s a good organizer. I enjoy watching someone attack problems with intelligence and prudence. He has papered a whole wall with maps. By his calculation we should do a printing of 120,000. Schorba assigns clearly defined tasks and supervises rigorously. When I asked Kurt how he pictured his post-July world, he replied, “Why, here with you.” Fred, on the other hand, is completely overwhelmed. Every day, almost every hour he has to patch up his distribution network because vendors go out of business or are selling fewer and fewer copies, so that it’s no longer worth the drive.

Plus we’re calculating on the basis of ten or even a hundred times larger accounts. Jörg and Marion are kids playing store. My dear Jo, it’s the start of a new life! Our articles have, if at all, raised some dust now and then, but it always settles quickly. But now we’re really going to set some things in motion. Our ads are the motor. We’re going to be changing the world. Just imagine our publishing house, and the passage we’ll build to connect with Market Square. And above all: Who else is going to pull it off — a free paper, and in every household? Jörg reminds me of the eternal loser sitting at the roulette table, studying and analyzing the numbers, and when he does bet, he loses again. But we’re going to win at this game. Because we have probability and time on our side. And the more money we have, the less chance chance has to muck things up. Just let Jörg go on studying and analyzing and writing about it; in the meantime we’re playing a new game for him to study and analyze. How lucky we are to start all over again with a clear head. 328

I was only too happy to accede to the baron’s request that, after all the uproar and confusion involved in our project, we go back and recheck every detail from start to finish. Amid the muddle of trying to accomplish everything all at one time, we’re likely to lose the thread. I had assumed it would be a working dinner, but he saw me as giving my report in the mundane space of our editorial office. Suddenly I knew what needed to be done: every single person in the office had to be assigned his or her role and make an appearance onstage. And I was the director.

For four days I did almost nothing else but talk with everyone. Nothing was to be accepted without question.

Fred and Ilona, who were happy to be spared such “gimmicks” at first, are now feeling neglected. Ilona looks like a cross-eyed magpie every time I assign a task to Frau Schorba. Besides which, the “Rolex affair” is about to drive her crazy. People come into the office and slam the “piece of junk” on her desk — either it’s stopped running or the new subscriber has figured out it’s not a real Rolex. Some of them refuse to leave until they get their money back. And then Ilona’s explanation that the ad never mentioned a Rolex, but simply read, “You will receive this watch…” really drives them up the wall. Ilona’s only port in the storm is the wolf she’s always disparaged; since the commotion usually wakes Astrid up, she often yawns — and shows her fangs. Her white blind eye likewise instills respect in hoodwinked subscribers. Thank God that nuisance isn’t our problem. We don’t have to woo subscribers. Isn’t that a marvelous emancipation from our readers?