User Profile

Even the foreword strikes a nerve: "Since I started writing this novel, I’ve been amazed – and terrified – by how much of it is already coming true. A splintering Europe, the rise of authoritarian states in the West, the backlash against so-called minorities." The author wrote these words back in 2017 – let that sink in...

The plot is set only slightly ahead of our time, reaching into the 2040s. Its piercing glimpses into our present-day reality honestly gave me more than one nightmare-night when reading just before bed-time. The characters illustrate how urgent it is to begin now with what Arne Semsrott calls "prepping love": building structures and alliances, developing skills and knowledge – everything that can be shared with those who will need it. Anyone who ticks one or more boxes: queer, trans, non-binary, disabled, sex worker, BIPoC. The book presses a dystopian finger into wounds that are already open. (Side note: It’s a dystopia that isn’t centred around reproduction.) It covers the topics and representations so often missing from other novels – and that’s crucial and heartening, especially as the characters band together into a movement of resistance. But: it’s not particularly well written. Again and again, I found myself pulled out of the story – and it pains me to say so.

What doesn’t work for me: • Everything is spelled out. Characters voice and think through every message they are meant to convey, and some seem created solely for that purpose. Their traits and histories are likewise overexplained. At times, the author slips into something close to rage mode when describing them – understandable given the themes, but honestly, I’d prefer reading that tone on Mastodon. In a novel, it becomes tiresome. If the book had trusted its readers a bit more and conveyed its points with more subtlety (some might say: with more literary craft), the impact would have been even stronger. • After the halfway mark, the story starts to drag. We read it in a queer-feminist book club; 2 out of 4 of us didn’t make it to the end.

What works for me: • Pinar and Ash are characters who stay with you long after the last page. • Elias’s storyline moved me, too. (Though, admittedly, Elias mainly serves as a reminder of how dangerous it is to forget history...) • The final chapters build up real momentum – from there on, you simply can’t put the book down. • The novel aims to lift a particular message and feeling into flight – and yes, it succeeds.

[English below] Das ist so: Ich lese wirklich nicht nur Belletristik und will nicht immer nur hochtrabend über Literatur sprechen. Und vor allen Dingen unterstütze ich gerne kleine Indie-Verlage, wir können uns glücklich schätzen, in Deutschland noch einige zu haben. Dementsprechend auch grundsätzlich all meinen blauglitzernden Support für den Querverlag! Aber. Nicht das, nicht „Einmal noch“, für mich zumindest nicht (das mag ich betonen, it‘s me. Gebt ihr dem Buch bitte selbst eine Chance, es hat allgemein sehr gute Bewertungen! Meine schwankt zwischen 2,5 und 3.) - Hier wurde mit dem Anspruch geschrieben, keine platte Schmonzette, keine platte Schicksalslitanei zu schreiben. Deep soll es sein: Der Background und das zu tragende Päckchen der Figuren. Ihre Dialoge. Ihre Verantwortung füreinander. Bleibt aber eher gewollt und konstruiert, ziemlich steif und sehr frontal auserzählt und manche Fäden gehen dann doch auch verloren. - Dabei kommt all das ungefiltert; manches hätte auch eine CN verdient. Zum Beispiel gibt es: Suizidale Gedanken, starke Trauer und Trauma, häusliche Gewalt, NS-Zeit und Antisemitismus, lebensbedrohliche Krankheit, Unfallschilderung, Verstoßen werden wegen Schwul sein, Übergeben. (Und fatshaming. Das scheint aber im Autor drin zu sein und ist nicht geplottet.) Trotz allem geht es dabei um sehrsehr privilegierte Figuren. Ich konnte die Figuren nie ganz >>fühlen<<, sie bleiben im Roman immer ganz Träger*innen ihres Schicksals. Na ja und der Schluss … - Die sehr gekünstelten Dialoge haben mich wirklich jeden Nerv gekostet, I‘m sorry to say. Allein, das j e d e r Sprechakt den Vornamen der angesprochenen Person enthält. Argh! I can‘t! - Ach, naja und ich muss gestehen. Ich lese gerne schwule Sexszenen. Schade, dass die ausgespart wurden : ) Nichtsdestotrotz: Dies war mein Abend Buch vor dem Einschlafen und ich habe es dann doch noch gespannt aufgeschlagen, um zu erfahren wo Umberto - Daniele - Debora - Umberto - Debora - Daniele - Umberto mit ihren namensreichen Dialogen enden werden.

[English very well translated by AI] It's not you, dear book, it's me. We just aren’t meant for each other. Here’s the thing: I don’t exclusively read literary fiction, nor do I always want to discuss books in an overly highbrow way. And most importantly, I love supporting small indie publishers—we’re lucky to still have quite a few in Germany. So, of course, all my sparkly blue support goes to Querverlag! But. Not this one, not Einmal noch—at least not for me (and I want to emphasize that: it’s me. Please give this book a chance yourselves; it has received very positive reviews overall!). • This was written with the clear ambition not to be a shallow romance or a mere litany of tragedies. It aims to be deep: the background, the characters’ backstories, their dialogues, their responsibilities toward one another. But it feels more forced and constructed—quite stiff, very on-the-nose in its storytelling, and some narrative threads ultimately get lost. • Everything is presented unfiltered; some parts would have warranted a content note. For example, the book contains: suicidal thoughts, intense grief and trauma, domestic violence, the Nazi era and antisemitism, life-threatening illness, an accident description, being disowned for being gay, vomiting. (And fat-shaming. But that seems to come from the author rather than being an intentional plot point.) Despite all this, the characters remain very privileged. I never truly felt them; they always stayed mere carriers of their fates. And then the ending… well. • The highly artificial dialogues drove me up the wall, I’m sorry to say. Especially the fact that every single section of dialogue includes the other person’s first name oder and over again. Argh! I can’t! • Oh, and I must admit—I enjoy reading gay sex scenes. Shame they were left out. : ) That said: This was my bedtime book, and I still picked it up eagerly each night to find out where Umberto – Daniele – Debora – Umberto – Debora – Daniele – Umberto and their name-heavy dialogues would lead in the end.

#bookstodon @lesekreis@a.gup.pe